Weapons of mass destruction

The battle of supremacy in the kitchen continues. We have brought out the big weapon – our ant-proof pantry! The concept was mine based on a childhood Thai cupboard, and the craftsmanship Rob’s! The tuna cans ideal size; filled with water at each foot are the key to its effectiveness. Vigilance is still required as we discovered an invasion after a piece of cellotape fell close to the wall and the ants formed a bridge to launch a counteract!

Unfortunately we have found this pantry is not rat proof! Much to my discomfort my first encounter with the rat was alone at night, when reading a book he appeared right under my feet! To my credit the scream was not vocalised and Rob was not notified of our new adversary until morning. The next encounter resulted in his eviction. As you can see from the photos a new method (as we have no traps) was designed. Cornering him by the fridge, one route to the front door was formed and when all was ready, Rob ‘encouraged’ him to exit. Rob did say it was an amazing sight to see the rat launch himself off the balcony into the dark! (As you can also see I took the safe advantage point – for recording purposes. Unfortunately the rat moved too fast to be photographed).

Thought it might also interest you of another weapon we use to great affect – the sieve!

Of greener grass

I don’t know how else to say this, but I am in love. We have just been to the most beautiful and idyllic place I have seen yet in this country; it was everything that I hoped the Solomons would be, really. And now I am suffering from a fairly severe case of “grass is greener” syndrome. It’s all relative, I suppose, we liked Honiara well enough until we got to Auki. Now we think Honiara is a hole. We liked Auki very much until we got to Atoifi. Now, well, fill in the blanks I guess!

Steve, his trainee Willie, and I travelled over to Malaita’s second hospital over on the east coast last week. Atoifi Adventist Hospital has no road access, like most of eastern Malaita, so for us it meant a good couple of hours getting over to Atori by truck, and then a half hour in a boat to Atoifi. I felt mildly unwell after the rough ride in the truck (I’m sure the potholes were enough to induce a slight concussion), so I hate to think how the patients feel when they make it, via whatever means they can, to the hospital.

We didn’t know what to expect of the place, and thought we should prepare for the worst-case scenario – three days of sleeping on the floor, being stared at and not spoken to, eating whatever we were able to purchase locally (perhaps an exclusive diet of bananas, seeing as they don’t require cooking). What we got was a lovely (by Solomon standards, and I am okay with this!) self-contained flat, multiple warm welcomes from a number of staff, vast quantities of lovingly prepared food from several local families, and requests for further visits. As if that isn’t enough, the surrounds are peaceful, the people are friendly and the staff really want to take better care of their patients and would like our help to achieve that. More than a volunteer could hope for, really.

The evenings are even more serene than the days, and as the sun sets and brief twilight settles over the bay and its artificial islands*, the locals walk down to the small wharf (built by the EU). People set off over the quiet waters in their dugout canoes, children splash in the shallows or jump off the wharf. Somehow this doesn’t frighten the fish, who are quite content to flip around and make ripples across the mirror-like inlet. Many of the makeshift rigs (metres of line spooled around plastic bottles) still reel in enough for a little bit of protein with the evening meal. And most importantly of all, people sit down, or stroll together to engage in the national pastime, “stori stori” (talking).

When the sun departs for the day, and only the moon is left to light the sky, even then Atoifi is peaceful. The trilling of the crickets seems somehow more muted than Auki, and the silence is palpable between their songs. Only the occasional cry of a cat can be heard, and the mangy dog population I would put at less than three. I slept without ear plugs, and it was bliss.

Ah yes, the grass is very green on the other side at Atoifi, and I am very pleased to report that this first liaison is only the beginning of a beautiful friendship. There are lots of lovely things that we look forward to doing with the team there, but I won’t bore you with work talk, rather I’ll just revel in the knowledge that we get to go back.

*Malaita (and probably a number of other provinces, I’ll let you know when I’ve been there!) has many man-made islands dotted around its coast. They have been built on top of areas of reef by some very enterprising people who were struggling for land. So they made their own, out of rocks they collected and deposited at low tide. These people are the “saltwater people”, who, naturally, tend to do most of the fishing. They depend on the “bush people” for root crops such as taro and kumara, as the soil on the artificial islands is not generally amenable to growing these. There is a huge amount of anthropology and history literature available, about most of which I’m not that well informed, really. But Roger Keesing is one of the gurus, so if you’re interested, he would be a good author to look up.
Kel.

Taking the heat

After six months in the tropics, I’d say we’re about as acclimatised to the heat as we’re ever going to get. Unfortunately, I still sweat profusely with quite low levels of activity, talking to a patient, for example, or slicing our home-made bread on a Sunday afternoon. I am convinced that I sweat more than my fellow volunteers, although Rob thinks he rivals or surpasses me. That we sweat in the heat is not surprising, however we have noticed of late our increasing sensitivity to cold. Of course it never gets “cold” here in the Solomons, but our goalposts have certainly shifted.

Departing Australia in October, I remarked to Steve that it would be another 18 months before I had cold feet again. I and the other females in my family are rarely without our fleecy slippers at home, trying to prevent iciness of our extremities. Walking on chilly surfaces such as tiles in a Melbourne or Auckland winter borders on painful, but surely there would not be such problems for me in Solomon Islands? It turns out that twenty four or twenty five degrees these days is practically Arctic, and the kitchen lino in these temperatures is cold to the point of being mildly painful!

Sitting down in the evenings sees the temperature drop below thirty degrees, usually, which is comfortable. Lose a couple more degrees, and, with the fan running, I start getting cold. Steve thinks I’m crazy, and won’t let me turn the fan off, so I have been resorting to long-sleeved shirts and light trousers recently. I am not quite resorting to the winter woollies that the Solomon Islanders do, but all the same, would never have dreamed of feeling chilly here.

Our coffee and tea consumption has risen again as we have acclimatised, and we now think nothing of having a cuppa in the afternoon despite it being thirty one degrees or so. Steve’s favourite coffee mug, his Greenlane Christian Centre mug, has just lost its handle in an unfortunate fall during Steve’s haste to get himself caffeinated. He is distraught but consolable, and refuses to drink coffee from anything but the handle-less vessel. I may not be able to convince him to leave it behind when we go.

In nine weeks time, my mum, dad and brother are coming to visit. I’m hoping that they will sweat more than me….and maybe bring me a few more long sleeves.

River Fiu Adventure

Many a discussion had been made on floating down the Fiu river on a tyre and finally today was the day. After being assured by our contact the night before that the truck inner tyres required would be ready at the local work yard the next morning, we arrived to find . . . surprise, surprise, they weren’t. In fact there was only one truck tyre, the other three were hylux tyres plus a car tyre and all needed repairs and pumping up.

2 hours later, a bit despondent we assembled at the starting point. The truck tyre had become flat during the 15 min ride to the river so that left Kelly, Steve & Rob with the hylux and Lara with the car tyre. John & Dave well prepared, both had their truck tyres.

The first part of the journey was spent experimenting with positioning in the tyres and how to manoeuvre them in the current while attempting to avoid the rocks and branches. There is only one way to ride the car tyre – on your tummy like a boggie board, knees and legs up to avoid the rocks! Two of us (guess who!) became rather chilly. I was able to scavenge a thermal top and gloves off Dave and Rob ½ way. The rest found the temperature rather pleasant.

The peaceful tranquillity was often shattered by John’s rendition of “That’s why I tell you . . . you’d better be home soon” (Crowded House) The water was so clear you could see the crocs coming a mile away!

Despite sore and hungry bodies, the 4 hours & 20 mins was totally worth it. Although an increase in water flow would have created additional delight. Unfortunately due to the isolation of the river route we fear we have inadvertently caused many a pikinini to have nightmares of whiteman floating down the river!!!! One wee fella was so terrified of the 6 whitemen he sat frozen in his tree petrified crying!

Cooking Class

When accepting a request to provide a cooking session for the woman’s group, I was unsure what exactly that would involve. After extensive questioning in pijin, I continued to remain in the dark about how these sessions usually operate, how many attend, with the only expectation verbalised – make a fish curry.

Rising to the challenge I delved into my cookbook, searching for enticing, healthy recipes that can be made with readily available ingredients. Keeping in mind the local kitchen consists of a fireplace so usual forms of cooking are via frying pan, pot or steaming with the food wrapped up in banana leaves. Selecting four recipes I proceeded to translate them into pijin. I did try to have these checked by a local woman.

The anticipated day arrived. 30 mins before intended commencement time, the 3 recipes (one I had never made!) had been mentally sequenced; ingredients and kitchen had been prepared so I was able to relax with a book. 8 local women appeared as well as Kelly. And so the fun began. I launched off with sweet and savoury pinwheel scones, followed by the requested fish curry, and while it simmered created a stir fry. I had not written out the stir fry recipe figuring that it’s such a flexible dish. This was however asked for. I hesitate to suggest that the session will be recalled for its fine cuisine as I suspect the most memorable incident was when the lighter didn’t turn off, causing the container I threw it in, to alight. Blissfully focusing on the fish curry, I turned just in time to see Kelly putting the fire out! Oh well. . .

Wedding Anniversary

Yes we have made it to our first Wedding Anniversary (still no arguments)!! I’m sure relatively few ‘normal’ kiwis can boast of celebrating theirs in the Solomon Islands, having spent the last year in 3 different countries, 4 different homes and two different jobs each.

Our day was spent in Honiara as we had come over to catch up with Steve, Kris, Noah & Roman, the AVI crew and the wonderful National CBR therapists. We were shouted lunch at our favourite café – El Shaddei, and of course had the special ice coffee (best in SI). Evening meal was celebrated at the Honiara Hotel. Rob indulged on a big slab of medium rare steak, Lara enjoyed the titillating taste of fresh scallops and prawns smothered in a lime and butter sauce. Polished off with a rich chocolate mousse for desert. Guess who chose that?! This was still less than a night out in NZ.

No Guarantees

Dedicated readers have questioned our failure to dedicate any blog space to “what work is like”. Given that we are here to work, and spend about a third of our day on work, a little piece on work is entirely appropriate. Let’s visit Kilu’ufi Hospital (approximate pronunciation is “Kee-LOO-fee”)..

Our workplace is one of two hospitals in Malaita Province, the other, Ato’ifi, is over on the east coast, and I don’t know very much about it, other than that they had quite a long time without a doctor. Kilu’ufi Hospital is the major healthcare facility for Malaita. People from south Malaita, however, are sent directly to the National Referral Hospital in Honiara for logistical reasons (no roads, and the distance by boat is shorter than to come up the coast to Auki). Kilu’ufi has 127 beds (some of those belong to the national psychiatric unit), and an occupancy of about 90 each evening. There are four doctors who are all registrars, and must work without the support of consultants here. The wards are set up a little differently to what you might be used to: rather than having “co-ed” medical and surgical wards, there are instead the male and the female ward, loosely sub-divided into medical and surgical areas. There are also the maternity, children’s and isolation (tuberculosis) wards.

If you are a hospital worker, or perhaps a frequent visitor to such facilities, you may have noticed an increasing tendency towards “cheerful” décor, to the point of garishness at times. Also a feature of the modern hospital is the array of floor coverings: tiles, pavers, carpet, linoleum, and a host of non-slip surfaces. Not so at Kilu’ufi, where the scant budget dictates concrete indoors and out; it is exceptionally slippery when a brief downpour or a morning floor mopping is added. This is not to say that it is a concrete jungle – there are plenty of flower beds with pretty exotic blooms, and green, green lawns (with that tropical, broad-bladed, low-growing grass) – just that it did strike me initially as very dim and grey. The grounds are well-looked after, and received quite a makeover in the lead-up to the hospital’s 40th anniversary celebrations last year, with my favourite being the (okay, kind of kitsch) garden bed out the front that spells out in leafy green, “Kilu’ufi”.

Design features aside, this is a hospital in a developing country, and I think an appropriate motto would be “no guarantees”. Just about anything you would take for granted in a Western hospital is, here, either not available, or is on a tenuous supply. Need a blood test? The machine has broken, so there won’t be any results until further notice. Need an ultrasound? Sorry, the radiographer is on annual leave for six weeks. You child’s got meningitis? We don’t have the facilities to diagnose what bug is causing it. We probably wouldn’t have the antibiotics you need anyway, so we’ll give you the best we’ve got. Had a stroke? Maybe it was caused by atrial fibrillation (a heart rhythm disturbance) but we don’t have an ECG to check. Got a wound? It’s gauze, gauze or gauze for dressings, cut in lengths from a big roll in a very non-sterile manner, counted out on the nurse’s desk, and wrapped into paper parcels. Need a bandage to hold it all in place? There’s none on the ward, try the operating theatre, who suggest asking pharmacy. Pharmacy haven’t had any in stock for weeks. Don’t know when they might arrive.

I have seen parents, patients and relatives get angry over such trivial things in Western hospitals: a less-than-pristine bathroom, hospital food, the doctors being late on the ward round, a physiotherapist not performing treatment exactly the way they like, a wait for government funding for their mobility equipment, their favourite nurse being assigned to another patient. I wonder how long it would take for their attitudes to change in a place like this. Our children’s ward doesn’t have functional toilets, so the kids pee in the sink. Some taps in the maternity ward leak with such veracity that the staff have jammed a length of hose on the ends, and shut them off (mostly) with surgical clamps. The baby bathing sinks don’t work. Some of the ward bathroom areas don’t drain, and are constantly wet, scummy and slippery (arrgh, falls risk). The patients have to bring their own crockery and cutlery to hospital, and the food (every day) is rice, greens and a little bit of tinned tuna, maybe a slice of pawpaw if they need a special diet. There are only two or three nurses (not all RNs) looking after twenty-plus patients, and that’s providing everyone shows up for their shifts. People don’t have telephones to call in sick, or to get shifts covered, so it might be just one nurse for the ward that day. A patient is admitted with a neurological condition (undiagnosed) that has left her with lower limb paralysis, but we don’t have any wheelchairs to give out (although the village environment is not appropriate terrain anyway). Her daughter will have to keep lifting her on and off the floor where she sleeps.

There are a hundred frustrations every day, but there are rare and thrilling moments where we can help someone who wants to be helped, and make their life better. One was just last week, where Steve, Willie (Steve’s local trainee prosthetist) and I discovered the husband of our amputee patient had had a stroke recently. He was discharged from hospital with a pretty severe weakness of his right arm and leg. Steve and Willie rigged up a device (made from an old tyre inner tube) to help lift his foot, and almost instantly, he was able to walk by himself for the first time since his stroke. He is working on a therapy programme I’ve given him, and we will see him again at the end of this week.

Recently, I had a staff member come and see me with acute sciatica after injuring her back the previous evening. After about fifteen minutes, all her leg pain had gone, and she had only a little central back pain left. She was quite bewildered (and, to be honest, so was I!! As you know, I’m not a musculoskeletal physiotherapist, so it was very exciting to have someone respond so brilliantly, even better than the textbooks. It doesn’t usually happen here, as people abuse their spines in a very long-term way, and therefore take a long time to improve.) She has been doing her homework, and continues to recover well.

We hope you have enjoyed this short visit to our workplace, and will return soon.

Sarah's stay

Sarah’s guest blog entry should have alerted most of you of a new presence in our environment. Yes we had the great pleasure, of Sarah sharing our humble abode. We have offered to write references for future flatmates if required. Inside info includes frequent evenings beginning with dinner (she is still an apprentice in this area although the total master of Banooffee pies!), accompanied by pleasant and stimulating conversation. Then one would look at the clock to find it 10:30 pm! Therefore we recommend that if you need to study or work after hours flatting with Sarah might not be the most productive move.

Alas we do confirm Sarah’s suspicions of Steve and gambling but she neglected to mention her own skills at this game. The verdict is still out on Sarah’s poker playing abilities – did her two wins and second runner up indicate a skilled professional or lucky flukes? Is the reason for her always being three stages behind the rest of us a cleaver screen to lull us into a false sense of security, to disrupt the flow of the game, replace the ‘poker face’ with a ‘ditsy face’, just the way she plays (and quite successfully too!), or does the delays in response allow her time to receive her next instructions from her controllers via sophisticated camera and microphone systems? Well, as the phone is unreliable, I’m sure the communication and technology systems here will prevent the latter one from working.

One afternoon Rob, Sarah and I made our way up to the Telekom tower one of the prominent landmarks of Auki. The two Telekom workers appeared bemused when they understood we were wishing to climb the tower, they had yet to do this and it wouldn’t be anytime soon. With their permission (Rob had already got their boss’s permission earlier) we started up. You will be happy to hear no incidence occurred although OSH kept ringing through our thoughts as we descended with shaking (from tiredness) arms and no safety equipment. What a thrill and what a view!!! Great time had by all. Big Thanks to Telekom Auki for an adventure of a life time!

One of our last memories of Sarah is walking down our extremely steep road to the Ute awaiting to convey her to the airport. Laden with two heavy bags (mainly her books – thanks from bring them!) one side and the other with hot buttered jam toast. Next thing she slid over without using her hands to stop the fall! We were wondering if it was an attempt to stay longer (too injured to fly etc etc) but it appears she just couldn’t give up her toast!
Thanks again Sarah for coming and visiting us. We look forward to having you at Rob & Lara’s in NZ!!!

Life with a Knife

I remember some ripplings in the media recently about kids being overprotected in Western countries, and the adverse effects on their lives, their motor skills for example. Here in the developing world there are no such concerns – small children climb large coconut trees, walk barefoot through the jungle, and wield fearsome, curved blades known as bush knives. Yes there are a few tendon injuries and infected flesh wounds, but for the most part, Solomon Islanders are very handy with a machete, and they like to start them early.
Our little neighbour, Casper (we may have told some of you about his spectacular, vocal-cord-shredding tantrums, sometimes at three in the morning, other times, just three in a morning) couldn’t be more than two. He shuns clothing, for the most part, but loves to accessorise his minimalist look with a bush knife. The blade is almost as tall as he is, but he swings it quite handily at marauding weeds with no adult supervision. This is not an uncommon sighting here.
In fact, I am seeking advice and supervision from one of the local kids on how to use my small knife to open green coconuts. She has helped me out in the past where I have failed to breach the shell, and I am copying her technique but I just can’t do it like her. Fiona is about eight, I think, so I guess she has about eight years more experience than I do…

On the way to the hospital, I often ride past a few young guys on the side of the road, stopping for a chat, and leaning on their bush knives as they do so. When they all look up and call out “hello”, it is hard for someone from our safety-conscious culture not to be a little alarmed. It is, however, quite a normal thing here, and it is usually people without bush knives that I find more intimidating.

At the hospital, the national psychiatric unit is next door to the physiotherapy department. It is surely the only psychiatric unit in the world where the patients are allowed to wander around with 55cm machetes and open gates. It’s all in the name of gardening, you see, as everything (especially weeds) grow at a scarcely-believable rate. With a bush knife, you can “mow” the lawn, hack back the encroaching jungle, and dig small weeds out of the ground. And that’s aside from the myriad other uses – opening coconuts, husking green coconuts to drink, cutting down trees, and of course, general brandishing by children. We have also embraced life with a knife, in fact we have two – a large and a small one, for all our daily needs.

The promised entry - guest blog

Guest blog: Sarah Wattie (Kiwi/ Wellingtonian)

Well, it is my last night in the Solomon Islands and although relative peace has returned to the country, I remain in fear as Rob, Lara, Kelly and Steve have threatened that should I forget to fufill my blog obligations, there will be trouble. What this means and what they would actually be capable of is a humorous thought, since I am already in Honiara and they are stuck in Auki, devoid of transport and communication with the ‘Other Side’...

Despite their dictatorial stance towards blog duties, I will dearly miss the lot. After six weeks they are well and truly wontoks, Solomon Islands family and great mates.

I stayed with the romancing Rob and Lara, who looked after me like I was a daughter of their very own. Rob took it upon himself to give me a hard time, keeping my confidence at a healthy level. In my opinion, he asks for trouble. One moment springs to mind. We had just enjoyed a cleansing swim in a beautiful river ninety minutes uphill from Auki. Rob sees a pile of sawdust. Normal people would continue on un-phased, if they even noticed it in the first place. Rob however is a bit special and forgetting about his adulthood, took a running leap and jumped straight in, rolling around like a small terrier. Head to toe covered in peachy sawdust. From then on it was Rob a.k.a “crumbed fish.”
Lara on the other hand is a readaholic. She is perhaps the worst case I have come across. I must have known because I packed 15 sizely books into my Solomon’s luggage and she motored through them all! Rumour has it (source: her husband) that when they first arrived, she was down to one book and had to ration the pages. Suffering from withdrawal symptoms she began pacing back and forth in the lounge, lost, directionless. Things are improving but we are not sure that “handing out” books is the solution to the problem. We are worried it may lead to a further entrenched dependency (with Lara asking for more and more books) but there is no easy answer.

Steve on the other hand has tendencies to gambling. It is a good thing we play with chips. If he and Kelly weren’t volunteers there could be room for concern. Always the first to casually suggest a night of poker and next thing you know, game on! It is man against man, in a battle of skill, risk and courage. They say in a developing country it is all about relationships, but there is no room for relationship-building here. On a positive note, he is a really helpful bloke. I have problematic toes (rather knobby and lanky) so using his talents in prosthetics; he gave me some firm but fair advice over one of Kelly’s beautifully cooked meals. You see, it might sound weird to you but the air in the Solomon Islands encourages conversation and lots of it and one easily forgets their inhibitions, resorting to engaging debate on toes and other quirky matters.

I know I know, I am going on and on and I haven’t even mentioned Kelly yet. Please don’t make a big thing of this but a couple of times Rob, Lara and I had to baby sit her while Steve was in Honiara. Babysitting a mid-twenty year old is an interesting job, requiring quite unique skills. It was a first for me but actually rather fun and I am wondering whether there is any employment in this area back in New Zealand? I don’t want to paint the wrong picture though… Kelly shows much maturity in other areas. She is a dedicated, hardworking and intelligent woman (making babysitting an intimidating job at times) so this should not remain too much of an issue.

Now that the truth is uncovered, you might be wondering what my business is, perhaps even thinking that this is all a bit cheeky? All in love, all in love. I may have even exaggerated a little.

My business in Auki for the past six weeks has been as a World Vision volunteer for the peace building project in Malaita. This has been a huge time of growing, learning and broadening my horizons. I have been honoured to share many experiences with team of other Solomon Island peace faciliators. However I will leave the details for another blog.

For now, Rodliea to the Solomon Islands and to the famous four (Rob, Lara, Kelly and Steve). So many fond memories and you will be in my thoughts and my prayers always. :)