The Native Iowan

The day ends as my favorite little girl dances in front of the TV. Angelina is 6. She and Anna, 4, came over today. Angelina insisted on “sleeping over”.

One of her favorite movies is the production of Mamma Mia. She knows all the songs and steps. Her harmonies are very good. Her moves even better.

So I have company for the night.

Life is guud

Back in Honiara.

Noon on Saturday. I flew in afternoon Thursday. I must say its a fun change from the regulated Land of Oz…

I have written about Oz before. The pros and cons of a life there. My experience is limited but I know Oz to be one of the most regulated lands on the planet… there is a regulation for about everything that moves. Life styles and the social system in Oz rate high everywhere. It is a true “nanny-state”. So regulation makes sense in a regulated way…

Of course, Solomon Islands is a respected member of the “least developed nations” club…

Least developed country (LDC) is the name given to a country which, according to the United Nations, exhibits the lowest indicators of socioeconomic development, with the lowest Human Development Index ratings of all countries in the world. The concept of LDCs originated in the late 1960s and the first group of LDCs was listed by the UN in its resolution 2768 (XXVI) of 18 November 1971.^[1] A country is classified as a Least Developed Country if it meets three criteria^[2][3]:

• low-income (three-year average GNI per capita of less than US $905, which must exceed $1,086 to leave the list)
• human resource weakness (based on indicators of nutrition, health, education and adult literacy) and
• economic vulnerability (based on instability of agricultural production, instability of exports of goods and services, economic importance of non-traditional activities, merchandise export concentration, handicap of economic smallness, and the percentage of population displaced by natural disasters)

A club I enjoy being a member of. There is something about the bad roads, the sporadic if at all social services, a drunken, noisy neighbor… I was just recently writing about the early morning blues syndrome… a nearby neighbor is heading full speed into a sad Sunday morning… They’re just rewinding the tape to play that “one” song, again, and again, and again…

I am soooo hapi to be back in the islands.

It’s a hot, humid day. I sit on the upstairs deck of our Honiara pad. The light outside of the roof’s shade is glaringly bright. My old friend, Chew-Dog, just came up to be with me. (the other dogs are strangely afraid or incapable of the stairs thus Beanie is at the landing crying) A very nice breeze cools the skin and rustles the vegetation. Carol, the gardener, is making noise with a wheel barrow and rake. I am certain though it is for my benefit, not the gardens.

I just got a “yeeeehhhhoooo” outta the neighbors. It’s early still, a long time to go before that Sunday morning day after bluuzz…

I was in town doing some running. Well, indeed, running is the wrong word…

I was stuck crossing the metaniko bridge and for many minutes the guy walking next to my car, heading the same direction, was gaining on me. The recent month or so of heavy rain… I know one day last month Honiara saw 750 mm or 30 inches of rain… has made the roads here go from really bad to frigg’n terrible. I actually took a joy-ride through Ranadi. Very interesting, and the roads there are nothing more than a mention of a track. Not honestly a road at all.

And I like it. I head to Gizo next week and do, do look forward to it all. Call me an old LDC junkie…

So hanging out waiting for my 6 and 4 yr old granddaughters to come over and play. We’ll crank up the bbq, rile the dogs, play in the pool and generally waste the afternoon. It’ll be fun and I will take pictures…

more later

I come in peace. I come from the planet SUBURB.  At times it does feel like another planet. The clean streets. The polite neighbors. The quiet calm that pervades. I blame it on Prozac. High property values and exorbitant taxes contribute. My corner of my planet is kidz Ville. Scooters and skateboards. Bikes and balls. Kidz rule

I think of Gizo on a quiet Sunday morn… Everywhere in the Solomons there is a damn rooster that starts at 4am and cockadoodles, on the hour until 7am. There is a small child that starts about the same time and carries on longer. There is that general bustle of life, fluid, and noisy.

My morn has been productive. And fun. Convinced the boys that sorting their rooms was worth doing. The candy wrappers under the bed. The dirty shirt under the sheets. The clean clothes pushed in the corner. All easy to police-up. A bit of pride in the completion of a job very well done. Well done.

I think the my “home-village”, Susuka. A Sunday morning. Holding numerous agendas… Sunday school for the kids. Big motu started early by the old woman. It’ll be ready to open and eat after church. Children singing. Damn rooster still crowing. A dog involved somewhere. The old woman squawking at some kids. Noisy, lively, and fun.

My planet SUBURB is a free democratic land. But it’s highly regulated. In my corner of my planet we pay more to be regulated more. As an immigrant to SUBURB I still find this perplexing. To pay to be regulated. We pay for “free education”. We pay for good roads. Quiet streets, and cable TV.

I think of modern-day Honiara. The noise started in earnest on Saturday. The loud music. Forced laughter. Same CD being played over and over again. And the one, over-played number (probably red-red-wine) that brings all to voice. By Sunday morn we’d been through it all. We’d been through it all.

The yelling and tears and fighting and fucking and things being broken. The crying children. Then the quite that comes when all pass-out. There is one guy in a pair of dirty jeans passed-out on the road, by the betel-nut stall. That damn roosters is still here. The kids too.  We’d been through it all.

The Suburbian life perplexes. I paid to immigrate here. Chose my corner of my planet well. It still perplexes me. I understand the noise and confusion of life well. It is the quiet I am confused by. Quiet kids don’t make sense. A quiet life? Maybe why I have two fast bikes in the garage?

Sunday afternoon bike ride through the Blackhall range… sounds like a good idea.

scoot’n around on the river-ferry system. Kinda cool…

Don’t you juz love it when the supposed leaders get in hot water and invariably state “I will clear my name”…

They don’t say I didn’t do it, or I did and I am sorry… they say “I will clear my name”. I find it confusing, sadly predictable and strangely incongruous… ifn you be  a politician yer name is pretty shite from the gi-go, ain’t it?

Former PM vows to clear his name

I hear a number of the young mothers of my eclectic extended family  talk of their children being sick a lot. I hear Alayna dealing with bugs and teething. I hear Tracey talk of her busy kids being bugged up and ill…

I tender some advice for the young mothers out there…

I found essential oils ages ago. They have become the foundation for my tribes well-being. I have thrown out all other topical ointments and tinctures. I strongly suggest you young mothers go out and buy immediately:

Tea Tree Oil, the most antiseptic item found naturally. Used in hospitals where bugs grow in a near sterile environment. When all the hard-core antibiotics fail the hospitals use Tea Tree. You can put a few drops in the bath and let your kids steam their sinus, clean all skins, bruises, and scratches. I have in fcat use a drop on sore teeth/ gums. I know a lot of people do not like the smell of Tea Tree but I reckon it to be a miracle oil. Note that like most oils it can burn the skin so either a few drops in the bath or a few drops in some carrier oil then apply to skin. Use neat carefully.

Lavender Oil, may well be the swiss army knife of oils. It relaxes, reduces swelling, makes sore muscle better. Makes you smile and feel drowsy. My last trip to Montana I nailed my elbow a beauty in a short fall down a big mountain and ended up with classic bursitis. Within a couple of hours of the injury I got liberal amounts of lavender on it and kept the treatment going. It made all the difference. With the teething baby… a drop on your finger, rub it into your thumb then rub finger and thumb behind the ears, behind the neck and on the line of the jaw. Forehead and temples are nice too. You can rub a drop on the gum as well but the taste is usually to much for a kid.

I can discuss other oils: Rose, Eucalyptus, Lang Lang… they are all good but, in all seriousness Tea Tree and Lavender do it all.

Grab a small bottle, a drop of lavender to get strated… put a bit on a wet wash cloth and wash your face and neck… it is sooo refreshing. And soo gud for you.

rough weather on the way…

First day of school in the land of OZ for the fearsome flying gecko brothers…

I’ll wager that many of my faithful readers watch, or have watched “Top Gear”.

Remember the one where Clarkson drove an Audi V8 from London to Edinburgh on one tank of gas. The ending of this clip had JC running on what the vehicle reports as “O” fuel.

I drive a little Audi.  And just the other day, I should have ran out of gas. For a fair distance the car’s onboard computer told me I had “O” ks left in the gas tank.

Was stressful to say the lease. Stupid in many ways. But I am glad I have a car that literally runs on empty.

more later

Like all women,

Mother Nature is such a show-off

Not to sound like I am bragging but…

And you old Island hands, remember, there is indeed nothing in the world like a solomon’s pineapple… how literally mind blowingly sweet these were…