I am back in Gizo. Last time I was here was Easter 2011. Been too long. What a great place to wake up! The day is overcast. Not much colour in the sky and sea. Muted is the word that comes to mind. Loads of weather around and it rained heaps yesterday.   I sit on my verandah high on the Gizo hill. I am being accosted by skeeters n sand flies.

I guess all the rain has been good for them little critters that sting n bite.

A young cat purrs around my ankles. Flocks of birds flash past my views, the wind is nonexistent, there is little sound. A chain saw in the distance. A car grinding its way up the hill. An OBM in the harbour. The incessant almost silent vibratory sound of the waves on the reef to the south. A plane just landed on Nusatupe.

Sooooo goooood to be in Gizo!

Yesterday: I loaded the car and left the house about 1215. Took about 10 minutes to get to Point Cruz. Took another 50 minutes to get to Henderson. When my daughter told me to allow an hour to get to the airport I thought she was joking.

Henderson is much the same. Much the same as it was in the 80s, and 90s, and into 2000. A few things have changed but not much. The toilets were “clean” by island standards. They searched my carry on bag before boarding but let me keep the knife on my belt. The pilots have all changed. I used to know the pilots, not any more. But the aircraft have not changed. I am very familiar with the aircraft. It was good to see an old friend.

We left on time and I dozed until outside of Munda. I had thought it’d be nice to look out the window and see if I could recognise the various landmarks I used to know so well. But the plexiglass window was faded and degraded to the point where you can’t see out of it. So dozing was 2nd best choice.

The flight to Munda was uneventful. Lots of weather, which is OK for me, but uneventful.

At Munda a 150kg iKiribati woman with a sick baby came and squeezed me into the corner.

They had been in hospital and were being sent to Honiara.

They had that sick, disinfectant hospital smell of slow death.

It was blazing hot. So for the 15 minutes in the T’wotter it took to get from Munda to Gizo; I was breathing through my nose, sweating bullets and trying not to lose my cookies.

Got to Gizo and raced out of the plane.Was so stomach-sick I didn’t  even want a beer.

One thing I always do when I hit Gizo is get down to the sea-side and have a good look and smell around the place. The Gizo harbour smell always has that mariner friendly mix of rotting high tide mark with the tang of salt air and the lingering, back of the throat, taste of outboard motor exhaust.

It was nice.

I was smiling ear to ear as I hopped on a boat owned by my buddy, Hans Mergozzi. Hans has a nice resort on Mbambanga Island.

San Bis is an honest 4 star resort.

Hans is a Swiss guy with high standards.

Whats he doing in the Solomons? Long story. One worth about half a dozen solbrews at his, over the water, bar.

http://www.sanbisresort.com/

Thats where I went to say g’day. Have a brew and wait for my son, Don, to come pick me up.

So Hans and I catch up on local gossip. It was well past dark, about 630pm when Don showed up. Rain squalls were racing over us. Don arrived soaked n cold. He went next to the wood fired pizza oven, and like a good islander, warmed up.

Coming across the water in the oily black darkness, the air rich with moisture, was a flash back in time. I have done this run so many times. Coming back from fishing or playing or drinking or working. Come past Kennedy island, into the slot next to Nusatupe, bear left and use the hospital as you guided through the slot in the reef there.  I am aware of hundreds of propellers that got dinged when I, or someone, got this feat of navigation wrong.

These days the guys use GPS. Saves heaps on propellers.

The seas almost dead flat. The sound of the last squall still audible to the south. The GPS casting a ghostly glow on Don as we snaked through the reefs.

Gizo was lit up like I’d never seen. A feast for the senses. A fairly land of imagination and mystery floating on the black, black sea.

The place looks like a happening and fun venue. Lots of lights. The big, new hospital. All the new houses on the hills. The water front. All cranking and making noise. A new big 2 story pub down on the old KHY corner. PT 109 looking worn but still lit up and open for bizzyness.

The smell of kitchen fires, potatoes roasting and boiling fish. The sour-sweet smell of the effluent rich mangroves which still serve as communal toilets for this bursting metropolis.

It was a sweet welcome home.

So, its about 10am. I should finish my coffee n wander down the road. Maybe take a small boat out for some scouting. See what activity I can find down by the Naru pass or maybe jump into the Vona Vona and check out the islands there. It really doesn’t matter.

The big, fancy boat is not being cooperative and only one engine is working…So the plan of spending a few days on the water ain’t happening.

But that’s Ok. life is gooood

Just talking to a friend about life and magic and the future and dreaming and being human…

A couple good lines came from this…

dreams are what make daily drudgery possible… imagine being a coal miner… hard to dream 4000 feet under ground, or is it? maybe all you do there is dream?

easy to dream in these islands… your horizons are so vast, dreams come handily

.. tells us trouble is brewing.

The word is that a “protest march” from Burns Creek to the government offices is taking place.

The town is shutting down. Schools are being let out. Shop keepers are shitting themselves.People are rushing from East to West/ West to East to get home before the trouble start.

The choppers fly low, long arcs over the town. Rumour has it they have HD photography on these birds and are able to identify perps from 1000 feet.

I spoke to a young guy last night that pointed out to me that the people are not unfairly disgruntled. Millions of dollars have been received for the disaster relief after the floods but people have seen little more than bags of rice. I am told each PM, all 50 of them, each collected a large payment to assist their constituencies. Where is the money?

It is the blatant misuse and abuse that people are rioting over. It is the boredom of youthful life and the lack of opportunities that makes the young folks flock to these get-togethers.

Sore lo Solomoni

Ok, I feel a bit weird in that I can refer back, in both memory and photos, to what is now something like two decades of riot tourism.

Do you remember PJ O’Rourke”s Holidays in Hell book? I kind’a feel like that. Being a tourist to a riot… and it’s not the first time… Thats the sad part

I recall distinctly the Police Station stoned to tinder after a soccer match between Malaita and Ren-Bel. I am thinking that was 1994. It was a saturday and I’d been golfing. As I came home about 5pm the rioters cleared a path so I could drive through. I love polite rioters.

Was it about 96/ 97 when the market was trashed by someone writing swear words in Malaitan at the Market?

Golly, was it the late 80s when the prisoners broke out n ran through town smashing windows and getting drunk?

I had family visiting from overseas in December 98 when the first shots were fired. We were being tourists and hanging around the main market when shots were fired and crowed rushed in the direction of the firing. My brother was a lifer- army officer and was shocked, dismayed and instinctively ran the other direction. My mother, ever the super-mom, and like a fine island matron, started off with the crowds to see what was happening.

And from there on… like a bad habit one can’t break: Something happens; a sporting event, a concert, an election, a natural disaster… and we riot.

Not a good habit. Worse than biting your nails or even farting public.

But as I do this day’s riot tourism trek I see business as usual for a slow Sunday in the big Mango. Little evidence of the riots can be seen but for the gutted store fronts at the KGVI corner…

Mendana Ave, Pt Cruz:

Central Market:

Heading over the Mataniko:

Down prince Philip Highway:

KGVI corner, burnt out shops on the left:

Funny one… last night my 30 yr old daughter went out. I was a bit concerned but who can tell children, let alone 30 yr olds, what to do. I stayed up late to hear her come home. And it was late. Well after midnight. I spoke to her this morn and asked if she was at all concerned. Her reply made perfect Island Sense… “It was raining so there would be no trouble. Rioters won’t go out in the rain”.

Sad buy funny.

And strangely life is good. Confused. Fudged up. Unpredictable, but good.

http://solomonstarnews.com/news/national/1954-friday-night-s-rioting-is-well-planned

FIRE FIGHTERS STRUGGLE TO PUT OUT THE FIRE ON FRIDAY NIGHT. (PHOTO: DANNY NAMOSUAIA & CARLOS ARUAFU)

The rioting that occurred on Friday night seemed well planned and speaks volume of the lawlessness that still exists in the country and especially in certain communities like Burns Creek.

Late Friday afternoon, it was reported that certain individuals went and stole some money from one of the shops at the King George area.

In Chinatown, shop owners who were alerted of the threat quickly closed their doors and called it a day.

By 7.30pm disgruntled men broke into shops just opposite to the King George bus stop(formerly known as Uncle Alick) and started looting.

The looters went and served themselves with whatever they can get hold of.

Along the road to Burns Creek you can see men, women and children carrying what are believed to be stolen from the shops.

After the looters emptied the shop around 8.30pm, they set the building on fire.

Eye witnesses said they were surprised to see these looters loot with ease, comfort, without fearing anything.

“They acted like people just walking away with something they own and went back home,” one eye witness said.

“Surprisingly there was no presence of the police the whole time this incident happened. Police came nearly four hours later when the building was already emptied and set alight,” another eye witness said.

Describing it as a moment of madness, the police and authorities totally failed the business people whose properties were destroyed.

Sources close to this paper revealed that those involved in the Friday night rioting were disgruntled men from the recent flash floods who used to reside at the Panatina pavilion, whose demands were not met by the government and relevant authorities.

The incident seemed to have shocked and caught the police by surprise.

On their arrival the Police Response team managed to move the angry mob back to the Burns Creek Area.

The fire service too were there trying to put out the fire, but they came too late.

The Sunday Star closely followed the police as they took on the mob.

As fire fighters worked to put off the fire, the Police Response Team (PRT) too was facing resistance from the angry mob who put a few road blocks starting from the SIFF academy and on towards Burns Creek.

Although the fire fighters tried to save part of the building, they couldn’t for reasons that they were only using two fire trucks and that they havd to ran all the way to collect water from an outlet near Tanakake road close to Bishop Brothers warehouse which took too much time.

Two fire trucks were seen on the night but could not save the building. However the fire fighters managed to control the fire from spreading to other nearby buildings.

Whilst the fire fighters were struggling with the fire, the Police Response Team(PRT) continued to push the angry mob backwards using tear gas.

It was a very tense and dangerous situation ever to happen at night and in the mob’s territory which posed a very high risk to police’ lives.

The assistance of a chopper flying over the scene helped the police to find their targets.

During the course of the encounter, the rioters nearly overthrew the PRT, forcing them to retreat from the King George Market to the King George bus stop a much safer place for the police to station with watchful eyes.

It was a really tense and testing time for the PRT who for the first time faced such a situation, having to do all they could to keep the angry mob from causing any more problems to innocent people and properties.

The PRT remained alert for the entire night till day break.

The roads were cleared for traffic at 7am on Saturday.

The incident left many people stranded on both ends of town.

This paper, which is printed at our Lungga centre, could not make it to print until 8am yesterday.

The rioters made several road blocks from the KG Sixth school to Burns Creek but these were cleared off by daybreak.

BY DANIEL NAMOSUAIA

While I was in my hermitage the town was rioting…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAM-5nbCSv0&noredirect=1

http://tvnz.co.nz/world-news/flood-victims-riot-in-solomon-islands-5974284

Sore lo Solomoni

It’s been over a month since huge amounts of rain caused huge amounts of damage in Honiara.

And my tank is empty.

I find reference to some 1500mm, 1.5 meters, or almost 6 feet of rain falling in this region the 3rd, 4th and 5th of April. That is huge, huge, huge in real terms… 6 feet of water falling in under 72 hours… !!!

I bought water yesterday.

It rained a bit last night. It has been threatening to rain all day. The sky is promising. There is weather in the wind…

But it only drizzles here.

I have been bouncing around Honiara these last few days. I admit I am not “good” for the long, difficult trips “through” town. I guess I am a fair-weather friend of Honiara. I park at the post office and ensure I don’t need anything from the east side of the Mataniko. If I do I send my Admin Manager/ my daughter.

What do I see…

Lots of people. Thats for sure. This is not the Honiara of the 80s or 90s or even the 2000s. This is a busy, active, mobile Honiara.

I was thinking today, as I sat in the very nice and clean Solomon Telekom offices getting my phone service sorted out, how bitch’n the girls look. I’m not coming from a dirty old-guy/ perv position. No, the girls, ladies, females of the town are by and large pretty classy looking. High-ish heels, nice outfits, big smiles and nice hair-doos. I like it a lot considering that when I hit these streets the female standard dress code was a cotton mother hubbard type affair. Straight from the methodist style gurus of the day.

I see a middle class. I see an urban middle class.

I bumped into an old buddy from the Gizo days of the 80s… Gabby was a police man. Originally from Makira, Gabe was walking past Rove on his way to town. I surprised him by calling his name. It’d been a decade or two since we have met. So I holler at him as he walks to the main road… An ugly white guy in a dirty truck… I think my voice more than my looks triggered his recognition. It was a short but meaningful encounter: Gabe is retired and happy to be such. He owns a place above Rove, has educated 4 kids through university level, and now helps care for some 6 grandkids. I asked him about “home”, going “back” to Makira. His reply? “Here now home, ia”.

I see a lot of hanging around. A lot of what appears to be aimless loitering. A policeman I know calls it loitering with intent. I’m not sure. I smell a boredom. A less than articulate-able illness. Most young guys I have seen show no sign of self-respect in their dress. I, perhaps unfairly, feel a loss, a helpless, a disenfranchisement which goes to the male bone of these young men. But I see that childish Solomoni twinkle in they eyes and capitalise on it.

My upper body is 100% inked. It’s taken me 30 years or so to achieve this but the body-art from my elbows, up and over to my chest and back are, I feel, quite eye-catching. My ink is of the Maori tradition, Te Moko”. Lots of curves and obscure symbols, flowing like the ocean or the fern or the meaning of life. All in monochrome. No cartoons, no names or colour. Just, what I like to feel is, traditional ink.

I “wear” my ink so am knocking around town in a cotton singlet. I get a lot of these “lost-guys” engaging with me solely because  they are attracted to the ink. I note that most westerners will basically ignore the ink. Act as though its common or nothing to comment upon. But here it is different. The tribal nature of my ink brings smiles n comments. So I briefly engage with a fair number of folks as I walk Mendana Avenue. And it is positive.

The roads are dirty, dusty, unkept, uncared for. The round-a-bouts n median strips are often sponsored by some business. These are rather nice but they glare in the light of the unkept-ness of it all.

There are terrible blots, like festering sores, on the landscape… The concrete monstrosity that used to be Town Ground.  A general con deal. Who was conning whom is unclear but the town lost a parkland and now has a huge, ugly, unfinished mess. As well, the old, old, old buildings that are still in use accost the senses. The old Pink Palaces are slums of a highaccord. Lord knows what the interior of these places are but I’d think that 4 stories of life without power or water may be a bit dire.

There is not adequate parking in town, and with the large number of cars on the minimal roads, the inevitable result is chaos. Cars park on sidewalks, any and all spare mud puddles, and even in the road-way. A lot of town has seen open places, sold off, fenced off and closed to the public. There is little public land any more so a two lane road with parking on the shoulder becomes 2 lanes of confused parking and a snarl or traffic along side.

But I still like it. Though I no longer belong to the culture of the streets of Honiara, I don’t feel threatened. I see a lot of families, young gals, et al walking the byways. I see mostly smiles. And the absence of a smile normally comes from an obviously disgruntled male. I met one on Hibiscus Avenue. A big bloke. A snarl on his face. My guess is he was a bit drunk. He made a bee-line for me as I walked between cars parked on the side of the road. A white man was a target for this guy and I was it. As I came around the cars and walked up to him, his face changed to a beaming smile. My ink had made him smile. He wanted some. He wanted to talk, be my friend.

And it made me smile.

Next week!

We all do it. Don’t lie.

And this is what it looks like…

A broken right toe for my efforts. Hurts like the dickens…

I guess this land, filled with poetry and raw beauty, brings the best out of me…

A hot morning. Blistering sun and it’s only 9am. The wooden deck is quite hot as I walk to refill my coffee cup. I live in a compound and the kitchen is on the lower level. My house is on the second level. So, cup in hand, I stroll down past the pool.

I am commenting to myself that it is a day filled with humidity. The air is so thick n moist it creates a haze. I glance up and see a large Solomoni Sea Eagle. I originally learned these were called Sanford’s Eagle.  When I arrived in the early 80s these were very rare to see, noting that in my first couple years I only spied, maybe 3 or 4 birds and all in very remote locations. The good news is they are not all that uncommon these days. Something that makes me inordinately hapi.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanford’s_Sea_Eagle

My biologically correct friends now a days call this the Solomoni Eagle, not sure when or where it got the name change.

So my day starts with a huge smile as I watch this large bird soar above the coast line. A small tug, half way between here and Gela, flashes orange and white in the bright sun.

And thus we have hazy skies, the eagle flies n’ a tug on the water…

Noting of course the pict doesn’t show the eagle or the tug…

more later

Back in Honiara after a couple month absence. Since I was last here we have seen floods, tidal waves, earth quakes n loss n destruction. And it shows… it shows in the topography and the bad roads n the washed out rivers. But, as the Solomons are known for… it does not show in the faces of the people. As far as I can fathom it’s all business as usual in the Big Mango…

The interesting thing about the above shot is two-fold… a) there is a guy sleeping on the pile of rice, and b) in traffic, sitting still, the blue truck has no lights in the rear at all.

I like bill boards as they tell us what is happening in the market place… above is a sign for “Discount Auto” spare parts.

Outside the #9 facility… No Smoking, finally! But it took a bloody big sign.

I like this one because it advertising BIOMETRIC voting casting

Considering it took half an hour/ 30 minutes to travel from the Anglican Church to Town COuncil, the need for a Highway Patrol is real, evident, and immediate

The “new” Commonwealth Avenue

And Point Cruz…

Just doing some work in the shed n have this lineup of “British Babes” to share…

Starting on the left: 63 T120R flat tracker; 1952 stock Thunderbird; 1972 pristine X75 Hurricane; 1957 T100 pre-unit on Norton featherbed frame… an original and illusive Triton; 2013 Thruxton.

For me, from the 52 to the 57 was an amazing period of 2-wheeled speed. The 60s brought more speed and, of course, the 72 was the “last of the mohicans” when it comes to old school Brit babes on 2-wheels.

Ok, So the R9T is getting broke in. Weather has been quite good. A bit on the cold side but clear skies n good riding.

8 year old Mendozza reckons it’s a nice set of wheels…

I am writing this with the intention of posting onto Carpy’s CB Cafe site, thus, I write in public voice, addressing the owner of the site, Mr. Steve Carpenter…

I’m looking for Carpy’s thoughts on this bike. There is a lot good about it but, and I get ahead of myself, there is some bad.

“Carpy” and I share a lot of similar philosophies when it comes to 2-wheels. I really dig his work and have talked bikes and riding with Carpy and know we’re in agreement as per what it means to call ourselves “Cafe Racers”.

The Story:

I recently swapped a lovely but heavy BMW R1200RT SE …

for a 90th anniversary BMW R Nine T …

http://blog.motorcycle.com/2013/10/16/manufacturers/bmw/2014-bmw-r-ninet-celebrates-90-years-bmw-motorrad/

Though a cool, cool bike it is always a bit suss when yet another manufacturer tenders its version of a retro-cafe-racer. I am very much into BMW bikes noting that Carpy and I once agreed they were the “dependable” machines of the old days,before the Japanese 2-wheeled invasion.

I heard of the R9T last year and was told I’d have to wait until March 2014 to see one. I read reviews (good and bad) and contacted the 2 big BMW dealers here putting my name down for a test ride. I even tried getting a sneak preview in the LA BMW shops in March, but no go.

About a month ago my “local’ dealer told me they had a demo model I could ride. I grabbed my helmet n a jacket and drove straight over. And I was impressed. Though not what I call a “cafe-ride” it was a nice bike. Light n fast and balanced, well-balanced, and easy to sit.

So I did a deal to swap my never-used big full-dress tourer for the “NINET”.

I picked mine up last eve and now have 200ks, maybe 2.5 hours in its saddle. And my initial assumption remains… a nice bike but no cafe racer.

The handle bars are too high. I can’t drop my elbows down to my knees. The front foot pegs are too far forward and the back pegs are too high to use as reverse highway pegs. Noting that I can and will make some changes to modify the above referenced dislikes. I’ll make this work but it is not a cafe-racer.

I do like the balance of the bike. It is well powered by a 108hp standard Bmmrr engine. It has a huge tank, 20 litres (something I bemoan about my well used Thruxton whose range is minimal at best), and the ABS brakes are double brembos on front and a decent (which I never use) single disc brake on the rear.

So good speed and good, good braking capabilities.

The R 9 T is a killer bike that rides nice and gets heaps of head-turning attention. It fits nicely in my collection which records the history 2-wheeled speed… the history of man pushing that 2-wheeled envelope… from the 1952 Triumph T Bird, (where it really started in my opinion) to the 1957 Triton, to the 1972 Triumph X-75, to the 2013 Bimota 3D TESI, to the 2013 Thruxton and, now, the 2014 NINET.

Funny ending here is I got a call from the dealer in Brisbane today. Asked if I was interested in a ride on a NINET. I had to tell him I’d just picked mine up and was very pleased with it. Made me smile.

Love that 2-wheeld VRRROOOOMM…

Sitting in Pasadena and am a bit weary.  Just did about 4000 miles of driving in 10 days. Yesterday we did 9 hours of drive time and in the past three days we did over 2000 miles…

Of course this was after a flight from Brisbane to Los Angeles…

So in the past 10 days we have traveled over 11,000 miles.

Like I said… a bit weary…