When someone seems eccentric, the locals whisper, ‘It’s time to wear a hibiscus flower in the ear.’ But these enticing blooms aren’t loony like the modern weather. They keep their faces and serenity intact until they fall. They’re always in nature, and men away: that makes the difference. Only human hands crush them for hair oil, shampoo, shoe polish... Their breasts are open for butterflies. Sunbirds are tempted, who kiss the petals reddened by nature’s love. Their twittering among twigs is a language, though unintelligible as Rotokas. Sweet undecipherable emotions. * Rotokas is a rare language spoken by about 4,320 people on the island of Bougainville. First published in The Literary Hatchet.