The Native Iowan

It’s one of those “wrong place – wrong time” situations.

What brought us here? Where it is unsafe to drive down the main street of Honiara at night.

Golly, Billy Benson used to sleep comfortably at Town Ground. I once passed out (took a little nap) in front of the market, in the roots of the big christmas trees that used to be there.

But them days are long gone. Honiara is simply unsafe.

What took such a smiley little backwater and turned into such a dangerous place?

Is it simply another version of the haves vs have-nots? Is it the LDC bluezz in minor chord?

Or is there more?

Why, world-wide, are people now-a-days afraid of teenagers? Perhaps the universal social fabric has become so tattered and worn that our values have changed? And not just a little bit.

Of course the general increase in populations and the resultant pressures on society  is a contributor. I guess the urbanization of the planet is another. Concrete is bad for the soul. Modern multi-media has a lot to answer for.

So a young man dies in the streets of Honiara. Needlessly dies.

Perhaps not.

Perhaps the death of Mr. Simon Fuoo may spark enough honest thought and concern to force a change.

One can certainly hope.