Solomon Star (newspaper)

Having travelled around the world it fascinates me what is considered ‘news worthy’. And how the media is utilised. So here are some snippets from the Solomon Star newspaper. The majority of the Christmas editions were dedicated for businesses, government departments and non-governmental organisations to write Christmas and New Year blessings.

International news includes NZ woman with text message thumb, Japan to build elderly-friendly jails and stolen boomerang comes back.

Advertising uncovers a goldmine of information. No fashion or clothes appear anywhere, but new and used vehicles dominate.

Lists of names appear announcing students with successful schooling qualifications to listing people’s job interview times with the lucky candidate identified in a following edition. Private views are commonly expressed from anonymous authors expressing concern about the corruption of managers of the national soccer team and identifying their own preferred players, to a previously convicted criminal writing a half a page article to defend his reputation when arrested by police and later released without charge.

Public notices also appear from matters of administer the estate of the deceased, hurricane warnings to timetables of sports leagues and entertainment clubs.

‘Street talk’ is a column which asks the option of different members of the public (photos included). The following is a 12-13 year old boy’s comment on –
How about the soccer riots?
“I think that in future soccer tournaments, they should have shared it to the provinces. This is because of neutrality. There are many soccer fans in the provinces that would like to see quality soccer. Therefore, by decentralising soccer to the other parts of the country, I hope that we will have the chance of avoiding riots.” Mmm . . . those are definitely the words of a preadolescent male!

Delightful quote:
“The southern provinces [of the Solomon Islands] are no longer a threat to cyclone Funa.”

Solomon Sandwich

Mmm feeling like a sandwich you go to the fridge. Oh dear there’s no more bread. At this point many may turn back and make do with lunching on pineapple, pawpaw and watermelon. But if not . . . the next option would be to check out the hot bread shop. Luckily for us we can look out our bathroom window to see it’s red door which confirms what we already assumed – it’s closed (just like the last 2 months).
Only those craving for bread (and Auki AVI volunteers) would continue on to the next stage . . . making the bread. Equipped with bread recipe (starting to become second nature) the process starts. Shifting the flour is a necessary inclusion as it captures the weevils, bugs and occasional string. Even with this slight movement sweat rolls down your face. Depending on if your recipe requires milk powder or milk you will be making up the milk as more often than not, it too has run out. As the geckos chuckle from their vantage point oil is substituted for butter, extra yeast added for bread improver and you circumnavigate the rice in the salt which is trying to absorb the moisture from the air. Mixing completed, the bread is left to rise. 1½ hours later into the oven. Technical hitches threaten in the form of ovens that only do one temperature, the size of oven so small that the top of the bread may stick to the grill and gas that may run out at any time.

You sniff the air. . . aaaaah scent from heaven! And Volia!! 3 hours later your sandwich! It sure tastes great after all that work.

looking through the window

Looking through ‘the windows’ during “Playschool” brings back memories of anticipation and excitement. And now in our new house we have our own Solomon magic window. And from our window what can we see . . .
Canoes surfing on the reef.
A fight starting at the market place.
If the hot bread shop is open!
The fire engines lights flashing in it’s stop by the police station.
A man dressed in black cowboy hat, black with gold glitter cowboy shirt and trousers with sandals.
And a view worth millions!!!
So from our picture what can you see . . .

The view from Rob & Lara's over Auki town. A storm hits the Florida Islands in the distance, and Lilisiana fishing village settles down for the night...

The same storm as seen from Steve & Kel's

Lilisiana fishing village from Rob & Lara's deck

January 8th, 2008

I awoke this morning very reluctant to partake in this particular Wednesday. I spent three hours last night proofreading Lara’s report on the Community Based Rehabilitation service, and despite being brain-addlingly tired at almost 11.30pm when I went to bed, was unable to sleep. From somewhere in town (although even through ear plugs it could have been next door) blared a country music riff that would play no more than twelve bars, then pause and loop back to the start. The canine choir were well warmed up, and filling in the gaps. The dread of another working day with only me bothering to turn up for the required hours was heavy. More than a few frustrated words about my apathetic colleagues escaped as I limped my way out of bed in the morning.

It was same old, same old. I was there at 8am. The boss turned up (for the second time this year) a quarter after nine, and the other physio only a few minutes prior to him. They wandered off to different corners of the hospital to chat. I went to see patients on the ward. Blah blah blah, poor me, so it went on.

By lunchtime I was threatening to leave early, to make up for the extra time I had put in the previous day. Lara was very encouraging of this, but didn’t stay to hold me to my promise. I ended up staying longer than I should because the boss never came back from whatever mystery mission he disappeared to go undertake at 11.30am. Instead, I stayed and kept doing all of his work (as I have been for the last month, due to his lack of attendance, grrrr), but the appreciative patients were not my only reward.

Billy, the hospital secretary came by the department just as I had finished with what turned out to be my last available patient. He came bearing stationery supplies (even these are exciting at Kilu’ufi Hospital, the budget is so strained), a white envelope, a small pink card, and a flat cardboard parcel. A quick glimpse at the latter showed it to be a book from amazon.com, the lack of which Lara lamented that very morning! The envelope bore some very familiar handwriting, and unfamiliar stamp and postmark with a US address. Billy watched me get teary at the sight of this, and so of course I had to explain it was from my big sister, Erika, who left for New York just before we arrived in the Solomons. (He was, I’ll have you know, very impressed to hear about her PhD and spectacular intellect, and how she is single-handedly responsible for the astronomic growth of her company in America. That’s pretty accurate, I would say.) The pink card was to allow us to collect, for just $18 (why??), THREE parcels at the Auki Post Office!!!

Needless to say, it was a very hurried bike ride home to summon Steve and go to pick up the packages. Thank you so, so much to our wonderful family for transforming my day! Steve’s mum, Pat, was responsible for two of the parcels, and Steve’s sister Leanne sent the very promising looking (i.e. large and it rattles) third box. (My mum is also worthy of a mention, as we received a big envelope from her yesterday.) They’re not really even for me (well, I hear some things are), but I don’t care, the excitement is just as great. We are waiting until after dinner and a much needed shower to open them.

This was a rather unnecessarily detailed way of saying that we appreciate enormously the contact we receive from our friends and family at home. We get excited over e-mails, no matter how short. We get excited over the Christmas cards that have just started to arrive (thanks Sally and Anna!). The ultimate, of course, are the wondrous possibilities contained in a box. Some of the realities of working in this culture are really hitting home at the moment, but we are so encouraged to receive thoughts, words and goodies from home. Thank you all.

Cheers, Kel

Sartorial Splendour in the Solomons

The clothing situation is an interesting one here. The vast majority of what is on offer comes from good people like yourselves who send cast-offs to charity. Bales of clothing arrive weekly, and in Honiara, at least amongst the Westerners, it is a battle involving sharply thrust elbows, to get the pick of the bunch. I am yet to experience this soothing consumer experience, and plan to delay it as long as possible.

The Westerners, of course, are fairly deliberate in their combinations of pattern, style and colour. The Solomon Islanders take a different approach, which is fair enough given that most own about as many items as a Westerner would wear in a day. All the same, we have observed some outfits worthy of mention, and more than a few T-shirt slogans that have induced mild horror.

You can spot the T-shirts that were Christmas presents that people were quick to slip in the bottom of the big pink plastic bag (for a Tuesday pick-up, or at least that's what happens in NZ). These are the T-shirts that are in mint condition, bearing slogans such as “F.B.I – Female Body Inspector”, anything describing the wearer as a b@%#h, a dumb blonde (invariably on a very dark and very brunette girl!) or “over the hill”. It is a little shocking to see these on Solomon Islanders (given the completely counter-cultural nature of these slogans), until you realise that they won't have understood what the words mean. Then it just hits home how crass Western society can be.

It is not unusual to see boys, even adolescent ones, in mainly pink Disney T-shirts bearing such manly icons as Snow White and Cinderella. Indeed, the appearance of quite a few otherwise tough-looking cookies is softened by their feminine shirts. Up at Dukwasi, I desperately wanted to photograph, but felt it was mean to do so, a twenty-something man who looked mostly like a cool sort of guy. He had his chin-length hair braided in perfect sharp rows, a short goatee, wore a green soccer shirt and baggy jeans – all familiar so far, right? The sight of him, however, tenderly holding a little girl (his daughter, I presume), and wearing a crown woven from coconut palm leaves complete with swishy leafy bits and pink orchids, was just too sweet for words.

You and I might be hesitant to combine florals with spots, or wear clashing stripes. Not so here, these are a commonplace sighting, even all three on one person. Another Dukwasi pearler was an elderly lady sitting in church, wearing a white broderie anglaise nightdress backwards, over a black-and-grey zebra stripe crepe skirt. It sounds insane. It looks bizarre, but really, it fulfils a lot of the comfort and modesty requirements. The humble nightie was sleeved (typical, especially in older women), loose-fitting, and wearing it reversed meant its slightly revealing vee-neck was at the back, keeping everything well-covered. I'm not too sure about the zebra stripe thing, though.

People seem to embrace the concept of wearing feminine night attire in public. Just this week, I had one of my outpatients (a thirty-ish male) turn up in what was unmistakably a women’s pyjama top. It was, in his defence, a t-shirt top, but really, a teddy bear print?? One big central teddy bear with a red bow around his neck was printed on the front, with smaller versions below. That and the red overlocked detail around the neck and hems….I am at a loss to explain that one!

It looks as though you guys ought to keep the autumn and winter items coming, because the moment the temperature stays below 32 degrees or so, the long-sleeves are out. And hey, any day is a good day for a woolly beanie. (And jeans. And a flannellette shirt.) There is one chap around Auki who is quite fond of his bright purple fake fur cap, worn without any sense of irony. One thing you don't see often, however, is shorts above the knee. Only on Solomon Islands Santa (see picture somewhere on this site, although it doesn't show his legs) have I ever seen anyone, man or woman, in shorts exposing the thigh (it is actually tabu [taboo] for women).

Right, it's time to get ready for church. Wonder what our fellow congregation members will be wearing today..
Cheers, Kelly

For those of you who don't particularly like spiders, this one has made its home
under our house - she's a beauty!

Lead up to Christmas

It is a funny lead-up to Christmas here – there are a few things to remind us of the season but not many. The hospital wards have little Christmas trees, complete with climatically impossible, snowy-looking decorations. The two radio stations are having a competition to see who can play Mariah Carey's warbling take on “O Holy Night” most. There are several minutes worth of ads each hour where businesses, MPs, you name it, wish all and sundry a merry Christmas. Otherwise, it is business (and I use the term loosely) as usual.

We, of course, are thinking about what our families are doing around this time, and it is impossible not to miss them madly. In particular, we are pining for our niece and two nephews, who we relished spending time with in Melbourne. If you are not a Melburnian or a family member, you may not have seen our lovely little poppets, who are undoubtedly the three most beautiful kiddliwinks in the world. (I will make sure a photo goes in the album at some point.) So, Benjamin, Isaac and Mikaela, Uncle Steve and Aunty Kelly send you a big Solomon Islands hello and a hug. We are working on something special for you...xoxoxoxo

The Music (Torture) of the Night!

We have been requested to share our immense experience of the Auki nocturnal sounds. The first notes begin between 6:10 to 6:20 pm when on mass the cricket’s reverberation fill the night. This becomes the string section that the frogs and bats join in creating a peaceful tropical melody continuing till dawn. The brass section intrudes onto this in the roar of vehicle engines; the length and time of these appear random, one evening the sounds of a car outside our bedroom window trying to negotiate the clay slope started at 3 am continuing for 30 mins (until he slide sideways and got stuck). As for the roosters, I can’t fathom how starting at 3am will help their cause!

The woodwind: sounds of movies from our neighbours (great for movie trivia) at reasonable hours of the night, or an accompanied ghetto-blaster at unreasonable hours of the morning pumping out Shania Twain or the latest Solomon hits which include a Danish boy-band style song that coons the profound words “I am not an actor or a star, I do not even have a car . . .” (add two further lines of the same quality and repeat song 10 times!)

Percussion section: Depending on the weather, a gentle fall of water maybe heard with the heavier dropping of overflowing guttering and tanks or if a storm the pounding of rain with the crash and rumble of thunder and lightening. The fridge and water pump sound intermittingly.

Solo performances come in a variety of forms –bamboo and kerosene explosions (like fireworks), raging parties with 80’s style music, to the running of feet and screaming of a women in distress (luckily the neighbours came to her rescue).

However this is just the accompaniment, for the true performers are the neighbouring dogs (3 dogs belonging to neighbours above, 5 strays staking out the house under our bedroom window plus the many others whom they attract). Like prima donnas they via to out yowl each other. Each with their own form of vibrato, Rob can recognise each by howl. Not content with serenading us (our bedroom window provides the surround sound experience!) they often extend their audience to the rest of the region by setting off the dogs in the neighbouring areas – the ‘Solomon Wave’.

These nocturnal performances have resulted in 2-3 hours sleep per night which we endured for 5 weeks. However due to the impact on our ability to function, drastic measures were taken. Resulting in our plans to abandon our wannabe opera singers and move house! Countdown is on with moving day 5 January 2008! Yaay Sleep!!!! P.s. did I mention we are wearing ear plugs, and close the windows during all this?
Happy Dreams and a very Merry Christmas! Lara & Rob (& Steve & Kel)

The stock rock pile used to scatter the dogs who gather at the house below each night!

The nun, the bananas and the property boundary.

Some weeks back, Steve called out from the other end of the house, because there was a nun in our backyard trying to pick mangoes. Of course being the delegated Pijin spokesperson, I was sent out the back to ask her politely what she thought she was doing. Well, as it turned out, she had planted the mango tree, so it belonged to her. Who was I to argue with a seventy-something-year-old nun? Even though the mango tree is huge, given her elderly appearance, she could very well have planted it. She proceeded to inform me that the pawpaw trees next to it were hers, as were the banana trees, including the one with about six or so hands of bananas that I had been checking daily for signs of ripening. I must have looked suitably downcast, because she said I could have some pawpaw (and indeed she knocked on the door a little later with a large and a small fruit for us). Later, I asked David, our security guard about the fruit. He confirmed that the mango tree did indeed belong to Sister Bernadina, but that the banana trees behind the tank belonged to us, as they fell inside the property boundary that went from that coconut tree to that betel nut palm to that….. I was lost. Anyhow, I was looking forward to having our very own bananas, so preferred David’s take on the situation.

A couple of weeks later, I was working on a report at home, but noticed in the afternoon that the banana tree, along with its fruit, had fallen over. Big red ants, however, were quick-marching in formation up and down the bananas. I popped back inside to fetch our recently-acquired bush knife, and brandished it at the banana tree. The ants were unperturbed, and continued marching, some of them onto the bush knife as I began to hack, and some of them onto my jandals. After much sweaty chopping, I managed to free the bananas from the tree, and lug them (incredibly heavy!) from the slippery clay bank onto the concrete slab next to the outside laundry sink. I had already slipped in that spot this morning, and I did so again, but at least didn't sustain any further shin wounds on the second accident, but did kick the concrete particularly hard with my right big toe. (The slipperiness of the concrete prevented a theatrical hopping around in a circle-type affair, but I did emit a couple of wordless groans but not loud enough for the neighbours to hear.)

The wretched ants, however, continued their circuits of the bananas. I thought I could put them in one of the laundry sinks and run water over them, but I couldn’t physically heft the bananas off the ground. I tried sloshing buckets of water over the bananas, but I should have realised that ants are used to tropical downpours. That did nothing. Next up was the coconut broom (made from a bundle of the “spines” from coconut palm leaves), which was reasonably successful although I did manage to send quite a few of the ants onto my feet and legs. Eventually I decided to leave the bananas there on the concrete until Steve came home. I was wracked with guilt and worry that Sister Bernadina might come knocking on the door demanding her bananas (especially seeing as she had arrived spontaneously on the doorstep only a week or so ago with a bag of bananas for us. I wondered if it was a hint of some sort).

Steve arrived home, swept a few extra ants off the bananas, then carried them through to the front balcony, where he gave them a dose of his favourite fly spray. Even he found them a little difficult to lift, I might add. Then, being the wonderfully inventive orthotist that he is, Steve rigged up some Velcro straps and we hung the bananas from a rafter over the balcony. After about a week and a half, some were ripe enough to cut down. They are, I am sad to say after all that effort, not the most awesome bananas I have tasted. They are almost like a hybrid with cooking bananas, being a little on the starchy side. But hey, they’re ours (I think), and I am eating them on my cornflakes each morning. I took some over to the nuns’ place, but no-one was home, so did an anonymous drop-off of two and a half hands of the bananas. I also took some to a couple of the other neighbours, as several of the hands began to ripen simultaneously, and there are only so many starchy bananas a small household needs. I haven’t seen Sister Bernadina since, and am not sure whether to broach the subject of fruit next time I do…

The four of us returning from Alite Reef (see www.golongsolo.com/photos for a few more reef pics)

Auki Arrival/Solomon seasoning.

Hi everyone,
We have finally made it to Auki yaay! (well a couple of weeks ago on 26/10!)

A beautiful town whose main street, as others have previously commented to us, would be an ideal setting for a Western gunfight. Shopping reminds me of ‘little house on the prairie’ where entering you’re surrounded floor to ceiling with a massive assortment of items from tinned food, pots, hammers to toiletries in no particular order. Great figure-ground perceptual practice! Everything is behind the counter and after being served (there are no perceived queues) you load up your bags, the locals cleverly recycling rice sacks. The bus system is great here where you pay $2 for as long as you like. Wonder if it’ll work in Auckland?

We are slowly setting up our home in the new yellow house on the hill, (our address!) everyone seems to know it so if you are in the area, feel free to visit! Being so new our first weekend was spent on a single mattress and sofa cushions before we entertained the locals by buying a double mattress and carrying it home on our heads!

The battle of the ants has begun! They have fierce red ones that bite through paper packaging to attack food and people. After a few skirmishes we now have the upper hand resulting in a reduction of ‘Solomon seasoning’ to our food. We do have a long term plan that hopefully will result in domination of our kitchen, but we await time and resources prior to its execution.

Our first two weeks at Kilufi Hospital have been very insightful. In preparation for their 40th Anniversary all the staff (including doctors) are beautifying the grounds by designing and planting gardens and paths. It is looking great.

After being there for two weeks we are starting to get the picture of how much strain the hospital is under to even come remotely close to functioning properly. There are approx 160,000 people on the Island of Mialita & only four doctors. 95% of the people live in remote villages and can spend up to 3-4 days walking or going by boat just to get to the hospital.

If we had to hand in stats for work, Lara’s would look appalling. A lot of observation on culture, how things work in Solomon’s and CBR (Community Based Rehab) and rehab team, but extremely little hands on. In contrast Rob has been identified as Mr Fix-it with following projects completed: toilet repair, lab blood testing machine, dentist sterilizer machine, quote for painting all the hospital roofs and removing a water tank, just to name a few.

Everyone here has been so friendly and helpful. When our boxes arrived on the ship, a group of hospital staff and neighbours helped load and drive them to their destinations. Very overwhelming. Best be going to enjoy our downpour of rain.
Take care, Rob & Lara.

Who doesn't like to be on camera? (Rob down at a remote village)

The Pelican Experience (or travelling to Auki by fast boat)

Steve, Lara and I left Honiara on the morning of Friday October 26th, a few minutes early, even, on the Pelican express boat to Auki. Rob unfortunately had to stay in Honiara several hours longer to continue the seemingly impossible task of forwarding our only-just-cleared-by-customs shipment to Auki. One's job is difficult when you are told each time you front at the customs office that another form is required, and that it is only available in the bookshop next to the pharmacy (there are three bookshops, all next door to pharmacies...). If Rob was writing this, he would tell you that was only the beginning of the mission. Anyhow, the eventual conclusion to all this was successful, and he was able to catch a flight to Auki in the afternoon, with the news that the shipping would arrive on the following Tuesday. (We'll try to get Rob to write about the Solomons Shipping Saga one day!)

We other three, however, had our own adventure to undertake. Our Pijin language teacher, Jonathan, is a Malaitan, and decided to coincide his trip home with our move. He is a tall, gentle, strong man; a self-employed builder with betelnut-stained teeth, a slight underbite, a very sweet and slightly nervous sounding giggle, and a wardrobe that is apparently entirely navy blue. He kindly helped us with our heavy suitcases, and sneaked us into first-class, where he assured us we would be more comfortable. The air-conditioning, he told us, did not always work in economy, and the section was often crowded. The air-conditioning, we found, works extraordinarily well in first-class, to the point where I am convinced I had mild hypothermia (it took half an hour of sitting on top of the boat in the sun for me to start shivering again, and for my toenails to turn pink).

I thought I was being clever in grabbing the window seat in our row of four, but the window seat receives the lion's share of the glacial blasts from that wretched air-conditioner. Lara, as we mentioned in the previous post, is easily chilled at the best of times, and she was in the next-coldest seat. Steve, next to her, was only mildly chilly in shorts and a light shirt. At the time, he couldn't understand why I had his jacket wrapped around my head, insisted he was fine, and kept laughing at me. The boat and the air-con was too loud for me to explain that the sudden cold had caused an almost-instant, quite spectacular headache, plus numb ears (I had visual images of an ear being accidentally bumped, and it shattering, a little like Terminator 2). The fairly obvious moral of the story is, when catching the express boat, don't sneak into first class, but if you must, avoid the window seat unless you have your thermals and beanie with you...unlikely on a sojourn in a tropical country, I imagine. The small consolation for me was the three dophins I saw leaping from the sea just out of Honiara. No one else saw them....can you get hallucinations with hypothermia?? Maybe that was it.

Stay tuned for more on Auki life..

Kel

A classic dugout canoe by the gorgeous Langalanga Lagoon on the west coast of Malaita.