My last story of 2025…
I like the idea that sedatives, pain killers, drugs often save the day. From penicillin to chloroquine to morphine, drugs often do save the day. But who ever thought that 2 simple, basic, measly Panadols would be the day’s hero? I know a lady who survived having her arm taken off by a croc, with the aid of Tufella Panadol. It’s a good tale. But first…
My last story of 2025 is nominally entitled “The Wild Boys of The Marovo Lagoon”…
Jani and Patu were two good friends, both now passed, both from the Marovo Lagoon. Both were wild. As were most of the folks in the North Marovo Lagoon. A remote, distant, isolated, magnificent place on this glorious planet. Worth a visit if you ever get the chance.
Jani was long and lanky and strong as I have ever seen, Indefatigable. He spoke seldom. Skilled in many schools of craftsmanship. He was Patu’s right-hand man.
Patu was short and dark skinned, bandy-legged and talked a lot. A trained builder/ carpenter/ joiner/ shipbuilder. He had many, many great skills.
Jani and Patu and I worked on a lot of projects together. We played, drank, hunted, fished, raised families together for over 10years. I was the “Contractor”. Patu and Jani were the “work force”. I’d get a “job” and the guys would come and we’d do a job, make some money, have some fun. We built wharfs, reclaimed swamps, rebuilt remote fuel depots, fished a lot, raised gorgeous children and had a lot of fun.
Most of our projects lasted months. A couple were full year-long gigs. And after every project, money in hand, the boys would travel back into the Marova, back home, and go wild, be wild until the next gig.
One memorable tale about the wild boys of the Morovo…
Jani and Patu were out in a 21ft/ 7mtr alloy runabout. Powered by a 30hp outboard, it was a sleek, fast, maneuverable craft. The boys had money, their respective wives were happy. They had a good boat and fuel, so they were out being wild. They were fishing, hunting, prospecting in many ways. Out traveling the shore line and the river mouths and the estuaries and the mangrove swaps for food. For anything eatable.
It is a beautiful day, fine seas, just the sort of a day to be happily wild. A short distance up a river mouth they spot a large croc sunning on the bank. Without thought, with no conscious reasoning at all, Patu picks up a hefty 12ft/ 2mtr long mangrove tree/stick with a 1ft/300mm sharpened bit of re-rod sticking of it, and skews the croc deeply.
Now Patu thought he was a clever bugger when he installed a one-way barb on the tip of his big spear. A simple piece of bent to-fit stainless steel, with a pin through the re-rod. The spear would go in but the barb would make it hard to pull out. Patu thought he was clever as could be with his invention, modification.
So, I recreate the scene… Jani in the stern of the light boat, running the outboard motor. Patu is in front and has just tossed his long, heavy, sharp spear deep into the body of a big, heavy, strong, dangerous lizard. I note for detail that the big, heavy spear is tied by a length or good stout hemp line to the boat.
Patu was proud of his spear and what he could kill with it. He was a good hunter, a keen killer.
So the croc decides to jump in the water and swim quickly out to sea at a rate of knots…
This of course upset the seamen in the boat. Patu is tossed half-overboard. Jani is thrown to the floor boards.
By the time they regain some state of composure the stout line is taught, the bow of the light craft is plowing water. Janet attempts to make use of the outboard and hold the boat steady. The croc is too strong. It is pulling them through the lagoon and out to sea. In telling the tale to me Patu said “me close up cut’em line”… but he didnt, and he regretted it. It was a long, harrowing trip/ tow thought the lagoon that day. Between bailing out the boat, keeping it from swamping, the two had reason to regret not cutting the line quickly.
It was well after dark when something in the system that made up the spear, the barb, the stout line failed. The boys had long since stopped running the outboard. They had fuel, they knew where they were, basically. Off shore an Island we knew well, Rovana. No emergency. All was well, sorta. They had been towed for a couple hours. Now they had to limp home, minus a stout spear, empty handed.
Their wives would be unhappy with them for being gone all day and returning, limping home with nothing to show for their efforts.
Which leads me to my end-year, 2-for-one special…. An fine tale from my partner in crime, W.E.
A tale about a Marovo lady, Patu’s sister, who arm wrestled a croc… https://rosebyanyothernameblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/19/the-crocodile-and-tufala-panadol/
And, lastly… a cherry on top… Fishing with Frigates, Sleeping under Sago….
See you next year
The Native Iowan 
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