By Ware Aulakua, as told to Fred Lubang
PORT MORESBY, Papua New Guinea (MindaNews 01 June) — They say the game rugby in Papua New Guinea (PNG) is like a second religion. Some days, it feels like the first.
From the Highlands to the islands, kids shape makeshift rugby balls out of bundled plastic bags. They tackle on dirt, sprint barefoot, and keep score in memory. It is not just a sport. It is a national identity stitched together through bruises and joy.
Why rugby? Maybe it reflects the rawness of life here. It is fast, tough, and relentless. Maybe it is because the Australians feel it when they play us. We bring more than just skill. We bring pride.
Some say our obsession started in Bougainville. Stories say that on September 16, 1945, Australian troops stationed there began playing rugby while waiting for ships to take them home after the war. That moment, simple as it was, may have planted a lasting seed. Today, when State of Origin (an annual best-of-three series) rolls around, PNG watches like it is a holy ritual. TV and radios turn up, streets go quiet, and homes turn into stadiums. Tempers flare, friendships pause, and people take sides with fierce loyalty.
Back in 2003, during my final year at the University of Papua New Guinea, I played in the university competition with my provincial team. My team, the Simbu Spiders B Grade, went up against the Mt. Hagen Norths. We were behind, ten to four. One of my teammates made a break and was tackled near the goal line. Just before going down, he offloaded the ball to me.
I could feel a massive figure closing in from my left side. I tucked the ball behind him, freed my right arm, and slipped a pass to our fearless fullback from the Southern Highlands. He scored under the posts. Ten all. Then, in the dying seconds of the game, the Norths kicked a field goal. They won eleven to ten.
I left the field in tears. I never played competitively again. Since then, I only watch. But my love for the game has not faded.
In PNG, rugby goes beyond the field. It enters the conversation about fairness and opportunity. Many talented Papua New Guineans dream of making it to the National Rugby League. But the system often keeps that dream out of reach. As I shared to you, it is like a religion but unfriendly practices continue to deny many talented players from PNG ever making it to the NRL system. Some players are of mixed descent, like half-PNG and half-Australian playing in the NRL. Others who often choose to play for the Kumuls were either Australians born in PNG or one of their parents were. But there have also been full-blooded PNG athletes who made it. The truth is, talent alone has not always been enough.
You smiled and shared something from the Philippines. There, the word “rugby” means something very different. It refers to a kind of glue that some street children sniff to get high. You call them rugby boys! What rugby means in PNG could not be further from that.
Our national team, the Kumuls, is named after the bird of paradise. When they win, we celebrate as one nation. It is a rare kind of unity in a country divided by hundreds of languages and identities. The Kumuls carry more than a ball. They carry our hopes, our pride and our identity as a nation.
For instance, in 2017 when the Hunters, our team currently playing in the Queensland local competition, won the Queensland Cup, it was a fairytale and is etched into our rugby league history forever.
In Papua New Guinea, rugby is more than just a game. It brings people together. It teaches us to keep going, even when we fall. And it is something we all chase with heart, side by side.
*Ware Aulakua is from the Highlands of Papua New Guinea and works with one of the country’s government agencies. A lifelong rugby enthusiast, he carries with him both the pride of his team and the deep personal memories that the game has shaped over the years. Rugby, for him, is not just a sport — it’s part of who they are as a people. This year 2025 marks the 50th Anniversary of PNG’s Independence.
(Fred Lubang, a listener from Surigao del Sur, gathers stories told to him in quiet corners, walks, over shared meals, and spends time in many communities. In this space, he shares the voices of others—memories, laughter, lessons— as they were told to him, across islands and generations. Fred is a PhD candidate at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, in partnership with Paññāsāstra University of Cambodia, where he is developing a decoloniality framework for humanitarian disarmament. In 2022, Fred was awarded the Sean MacBride Peace Prize in recognition of his “unwavering work and commitment toward peace, disarmament, common security, and nonviolence. He is now in Papua New Guinea for a short visit).
