High in the rugged mountains of Garaina, where roads fade into footpaths and technology barely reaches, real music is being taught the old way — by hand, by heart, and through sacrifice.
At the centre of this quiet transformation is Dennis Mcrooh Wura, a musician originally from East Sepik Province who has become part of the Garaina community through marriage.
“This story gives me great inspiration,” Wura says. “I am a musician, but more than that, I believe music is life.”
Wura is the founder and trainer of Lebora Dii Music Training School, a grassroots initiative training youths from Ono Parish under the ELC Garaina Circuit. With no government funding, no district or LLG support, and no backing from community leaders, the school survives purely on determination, faith, and the commitment of the youths themselves.
“I travel up and down the mountains carrying school materials and live instruments,” he says. “Sometimes I negotiate with company management just to move these items. I do this with the help of youths people once labelled as murderers and drug users.”
The instruments used at the school were not donated. Instead, the youths organised themselves, saved money, and purchased a full set on their own. Wura then began teaching them proper music lessons — including theory, discipline, and practice — in one of the most remote parts of the country.
“There was no funding support at all. Not even community leaders assisted,” he says. “But I always trust that God can do what people cannot.”
At a time when artificial intelligence is rapidly reshaping the global music industry, Wura believes teaching real music skills is more important than ever.
“Music is one of the biggest movements in the world,” he says. “Real music is important because people can prove themselves. They can earn an income anytime, anywhere. Without real music skills, people lose hope.”
For Wura, the greatest impact of the training is the transformation he sees in the youths. Many were once overlooked — not involved in church activities, not recognised in government programs, and often dismissed by their own communities.
“When I started training these young people, they were nobody in church or government activities,” he says. “But after their final assessments, they became somebody. The community now respects them.”
He recalls how many of his students once only listened to music from radios and speakers, quietly dreaming of playing instruments themselves.
“They didn’t know how to play music at all,” Wura says. “They listened and dreamed about playing real music. This school came in and fulfilled those dreams.”
To Wura, preserving real music is about more than sound — it is about humanity itself.
“Preserving real music is important because it is natural,” he says. “It is a powerful tool that moves the human mind and heart.”
Today, as his students continue to grow in confidence and skill, Wura feels proud watching them earn respect and build pathways to sustain their lives.
“I am proud of these youths,” he says. “From nothing, they can now create something and sustain themselves.”
In a place untouched by trends and algorithms, real music continues to grow — carried by faith, belief, and the hands of a man determined to keep it alive.
