The Native Iowan

I sit in Honiara. Flew in from the land of Aus, arriving about 1pm. Was up ridiculously early, (yesterday) as one does when focused on a morning flight. 

The flight was seamless. Seductive even. Knowing well that becoming infatuated with the Solos is folly. It lies. Lures you in. This fight was easy, positive, let’s do that again real sooon. Then, next time, leaves you stuck in the departures area for 14hours. Welcome to the Happy Isles…

I head back for a big family party. It could be called a wedding. It could be called a family reunion. It could be call an Island Feast. It is many things and they are all guuuud. 

My son, Don, picked me up at the airport. He had 2 of my Dawgs with him… Big Red, the m0nster-mouthed, slobber-puss, and petit Ms Stormy. Both great dawgs. They travel around with him daily. Where he goes they walk beside him, or they sit in the air conditioned truck. Guud Dawgs, very gud dawgs.

The ride from Henderson to Point Cruz was pretty much unrecognisable. I have not been here since February 2020. A lot of “new” has happened. Noting well that there has been two major civil unrest incidents since my last visit. A lot of what was, got burnt to the ground, and is now “new”, again.

I think we might be able to spin that into a positive??? 

The town is dirty and dusty. Lots and lots of people on the roads. Lots and lots of vehicles. Driving has not improved since my last visit. Neither have the roads. Nor the vehicles. Most look to be ready for the scrap heap. One old buddy (WEIII) had a line… “there aren’t any scrap yards in the Solomon’s, instead they have a taxi fleet”. 

I am ensconced in a nice, nice, nice waterfront Hotel. Everything appears to work. So far. My family has provided for my needs. The room is large and we are stocked with grog and water. I am told the “kids” are going to come stay here, use the swimming pool, which works for me. I like the kids. I guess the water and snacks are for them. The grog for me. I’m cool.

I should go walk around. When we arrived, we stopped on the terrace and had coffee. There is a certain vibe these islands have. A lackadaisical posture, with a huge smile. I watched a security guard from my balcony… He is “patrolling” the back areas. Im sure he’s back here because there are less eyes on him. He moves like a true master at the art of artful sweating. He moves as if electromagetic magic floats his feet along the coral-gravel walk-way. He moves without lifting a foot from the ground. He moves gracefully but very slowly. His arms move little. I am sure he is burning very few calories. His head does a scan from left to right and up n down. He is floating on air.

When we sat down to have a coffee, a guy came up, beaming smile, and latched onto my right hand. He knows me form the past… “mi woka lo Yacht Club 12 years”… Thats when I remembered that the Island Style of hand shaking means you lose your hand for several minutes. It was good. I must admit I dont really remember “David”. He has a face I have seen and shall see again in others. Nothing makes me remember him. But it’s nice he remembers me and that gives him a buzz. Gives me a buzz too. His smile and positivity was infectious. 

I shall go out soon and have a look round. Find somthing to eat. 

So, as I watch standard PBS newz, let the aircon chill my shoulders, and wait for the kiddos, I shall write. Thinking tho, that as its now 617pm, my kiddos may all be otherwise occupied… It is a busy time an hang’n with Papa may not be the most attractive option this eve… They dont know I got Lindt chocolate… 

Which is OK. I shall write… Discuss my experiences and emotions as I time travel. It’s a fun opportunity to be an observer in the land I called home for so many years. 

Ha, I laugh… the customs agent that stamped my virginal Aussie Passport asked, “have you been here before?”, to which I say, “what year iu born, ia?”, he looks a bit shocked and says “1991”, to which I reply “Granpikinin blo mi old winnem iu.”. And it was fun. Nice to be back into the inarticulate world of Solomon Pijin. 

Did I say this is my first trip as a card carrying Aussie. Ive had my Aussie gold-ticket for right on 2 years… Kinda nice – so far. I like being an Aussie….

Ok, so it’s Island Time… Im going down to the Terrace… Ive got my harraches on. A faded magenta pair of shorts, an 18yr old Tommy Bahama island print shirt, and all my ink…  I like to wear my ink… I have feet, legs, arms, back, butt, neck and hands – including palms ink’d-  I do tend to get noticed.

And my ink is good. High quality… It’s excellent in fact. There is a lot of ink that aint so good…. Like country and western music… there is a shit load out there that sux. My ink is top-shelf. Thanks to Tu and Ify…

I like how folks try to surreptitiously look at my ink. It’s great when kids just openly gawk. I always make a point of commenting on others’ ink.  I never get a negative reaction. 

I’m sitting in the Terrace Lounge at the Heritage Park Hotel. On the site that used to be the Governor General’s residence. It’s a nice place. An easy 10years old now, n still nice. Classy, in that open air, semi/ always decaying humid n muggy tropical terrace kinda way. I like it.

Many ceiling fans agitate the air. A big screen TV on the wall purveys some form of information/ rhetoric/ propaganda disguised as newz. Im trying to figure out what channel it is… looks like the BBC. Or ABC…

A table of 4, drinking, happy, Solomon women are leaving. It’s a big ordeal. I assume them to be reasonably high government functionaries, having a drink after some big meeting. They are happy, polite, vocal, loud, and cannot find their flip flops. It’s a nice bit of comedic relief. 

There are a few gringos around… the place is by no means busy. I have spoke to Eve, who got me my first beer, and Ivory, who got me my second. Grace took my dinner of fish n chips away. Fish n chips in the Solos…. Steak in Iowa… not the other way around… 

The fish n kumari chips are the best meal on the menu…

The little red chillies are not green capsicum… they are hot, hot, hot… very nice…

It is sedate where I sit… low and slow music in the background, muted strings and the slow shuffle of conscientious staff. The sound of wind and surf in the near distance. The whirrr of the fans. 

The staff here are well trained. And there be a bunch of them. 

I just talked with Ivory. She asked my name – speaking pidgin – I told her, and she launched into a tale of her brother, Mike, who is a very difficult  guy… “hem drink, hem smoke marijuana, hem make mommy and daddy no happy”..  I laughed with her saying the name Mike is a curse. It was a fun laugh. She’s not afraid of me any more. 

Most folks are kinda put off by me… I walk tall, smile a lot, am an illustrated man, talking loud, and generally take control of my space quite effectively. What’s not to like? 

The islands can be good and gentle… or viciously ruthless. No middle ground – or not much. The Isles respect Strength, and trample weakness to Death. And openly gawk at my ink.

But the Isles be so, so fun loving and playful and island-like that a painted man with a funny accent that speaks fluent pidgin does get good service. I like it. It is entertaining. 

And it makes me smile…

A fine layer of coral based, lime-stone, talcum-like dust permeates. In some places it’s thick. Pervasive. But where I am, it’s a well kept secret. Numerous uniformed staff do their duties constantly. It’s a 24/7 sorta place. I am impressed how well and openly the staff engage. But then, this is the Hapi Isles… The premises around the hotel look great.

1027 pm… 927 aussie time. Im going to shower and sleep. Been up since 330. 

Life is guuud.