village stay: the end first

It was only when I was sitting in the plane, explaining what I'd been doing to the curious and oblivious white lady beside me, with my seat belt firmly fitted in place, that I wondered, when in all that excitement, did I take off my jersey??

I have never felt quite so joyful as that moment when we heard the plane landed and the little boy cried out to me, "quick, follow me, watch out for the mud, be careful about the branches..." and I ran, laughing, bubbling over with joy.

So this is a backwards story. I think when analysing and telling the story of our village stay, I can only start at the end with the last twenty four hours. We learnt alot during our village stay - about Solomon culture, our culture, ourselves. We might not have learnt or experienced everything we wanted to learn. I think God had different plans about what He wanted to teach us. So anyway, I'm telling this story from the end to the beginning. You see, by the end of two weeks we were ready to go.

Ready to go, not because we were tired of roughing it, or because we were dying for our own food, or we didn't want to face another squat toilet. We were ready to go because in true Solomon Islands hospitality, they treated us like royalty and we had had enough holiday. Maybe that sounds bad. I've been tossing and toiling for the last ten minutes of how to explain the reason for our "readiness" and that's probably the most polite. We were overwhelmed with their hospitality, but we wanted to walk in their shoes, or in this case, jandals (well, they call them slippers). But as I said, God had other ideas about what He wanted us to learn.

So on Monday night, we listened eagerly to the radio at five to seven to find out the flight information for the next day - praying that it would be a morning flight not an afternoon flight. It was a morning flight - yay, we thought, praise the Lord! Tuesday morning came, we packed everything, gave out our gifts, left the house just after nine, got in the canoe to paddle over to the hospital and airfield office. We weighed our baggage (and had to get weighed ourselves too!!) and sat outside to wait.

Then a thunder storm came. It poured with rain, there was lightning and thunder that literally roared as it rolled through the heavens. It was terrifying, really. And all the while, it rained mice and elephants. Then we heard that the plane couldn't come because the weather was rather inclement (the plane was only going to be a dodgy little 8 seater...) but they said it might come back at 5pm. So our host decided that we would go to another friend's house to wait. They lived about a five minute walk from the airfield. So when it stopped raining (by this time about 12pm) we walked there.

There was a stream to cross - except by this time it had expanded into a raging torrent of muddy water. We waded through, skirts pulled up to our bottoms. Then we walked and scrambled up the muddy, slippery hill to their house were we waited. There were about five hours to go. We had lunch of rice and noodles and the rain kept coming. The thunder and lightning got worse. Sometimes it was so loud, it resonated in your ears. We were a bit fed up and disillusioned and disappointed. We just wanted to go home that day. I kept praying, please may the weather clear so that the plane can land. But the weather got worse - the visibility decreasing to only being able to see the next house.

The women came and said, oh well, it looks like the plane won't come. don't worry, you stay here, we'll walk to the office and find out what time it'll come tomorrow.

I kept praying and yet was very aware that I had to submit to God's plan, even if that meant bunking down for another night. Well, at about 4:15 the rain stopped and the clouds looked a little less foreboding, but it wasn't that much better. At ten to five, the women said, well, let's just go down to the airfield just in case. If it doesn't come by six, then just come back again. So we all left the house, scrambled back down the hill and walked to the edge of the stream. it was certainly raging and there was no way we could wade through with our bags. It was over waist deep on one of the women who tried to cross (they don't have bridges - it's usually ankle deep) and she was struggling to walk. then someone said, "I hear the tractor coming, taking passengers to the airfield."

So the guy whose house we had lunch at took a canoe, put our bags in it and then rowed up a few metres and then let the current and a few deft strokes with the paddle and landed safely on the other side. It looked so effortless but we realised he was incredibly skillful. then Jair got in this little canoe with him. It looked so freaky, but he too, got to the other side safely. Then I had to get in. I was sure it would tip (these local canoes feel so unstable) but he took me safely to the other side. Then Francis came over with our bed rolls and we were standing there on the shore, looking at our friends on the other side who were going to get a ride one by one as well, still thinking that the plane wouldn't come, that this adventure was all a bit futile and that we'd just be waiting around with the other hopeful passengers, when we heard a plane!

I cannot quite describe the joy I felt when I heard the plane. All of a sudden, a little boy grabbed the bags and said, "quick follow me." So we ran through this ankle deep muddy path, dodging low branches, him shouting all the way, "oh be careful, don't fall in, watch out for the branch, this way now", and me just laughing all the way, giggling, thanking God so much that the plane had come. I couldn't get rid of the gleeful smile on my face. It was exhilarating. I didn't care that my legs had mud all over them. I just ran through, puffing and laughing till we got through the clearing and there was a plane - a bigger one who had detoured from its journey to pick us up - passengers all ready to go. They grabbed our tickets, didn't even ask for our tickets and we jumped on and left.

The whole thing, from leaving the house to getting on the plane, was only 15 minutes - yet what a range of emotions! And then I was chatting to this white lady, realising that I could still speak English and I wondered, when, in all the excitement, did I take off my jersey??

happenings

Hi! It's a hot Saturday morning. Well, Saturday mornings are always hot. They feel hotter than other mornings, but I think the issue is that we take it a bit slower on a Saturday so then we notice the heat more. But I've got a little retro kind of desk fan blowing at me so I shall survive!

We've had a busy week this week because we're planning to go to a village next week for two weeks, so there are lots of jobs that we needed to complete before going. Jair has been getting busy fixing cars and a motorbike. Repairs are often put on hold until he can find the part so he finally found some parts and got cracking! Today, as you see in the photo, he's been pottering around on the deck we're building. It gets rather warm inside so we're looking forward to relaxing in the deck which will catch a bit of the passing breeze! Note the old rusty ship piston Jair is using as a pillar for the deck. It was a mission getting it in cement because it weight at least 250 kgs!

This week I ventured out into the wild by myself - well, not into the wild, but out of the relative civilisation of Honiara, and I wasn't by myself completely either! I had to go to a village about 45 minutes drive away, through the palm oil plantations, and then through some other bumpy dusty roads and villages to a place called Bemuta. I've been organising for a team that is going to do a children's program there so I had to go in and bring a letter to confirm it. I didn't quite know the way, but between Florrie, who came with me, and me, and any locals we could find wandering around, we managed to find it. Remind me next time to check the petrol level before I leave. I got to close to the village and noticed we were almost on empty! eek. But we made it home alright.

We only stayed at the village for a short time, just chatting, but it was really tranquil out there. It's that kind of moment that you can't capture on camera. You know, sitting on this wooden bench on a verandah, watching the pigs snouting and scuffing in the grass near by, the variety of butterflies flitting from tropical flower to tropical flower. Seeing wild parrots chasing each other overhead.

I couldn't quite get over the butterflies. They were just so beautiful. Like there was one that was probably the size of my hand, if it flattened out its wings, or even bigger. It was a deep, dark blue colour with a cream coloured body. The thing that amazes me is that very few people out of the 6 or 7 billion people we share planet earth with get to experience beautiful butterflies. It's like tropical fish. You don't realise how many beautiful fish there are in the sea until you put on a mask and snorkel and find some reef or a shipwreck and see for yourself, nemo and all his cousins, angel fish, sword fish peering at you, dark purple fish (I mean, have you ever seen a dark purple fish before?), and fish that a sparkling dots in the big blue ocean. And yet very few people see them. Partly because few people live in places where the sea is teaming with beautiful fish, and those that do live there rarely have masks and snorkels!

And yet, God made all these beautiful things, butterflies and fish, that nobody ever sees. Who knows what else is out there whose beauty only God sees?! It simply astounds me that there is so much beauty that is there just for the sake of being beautiful! All these thoughts tumbled in my brain as I sat there on this wooden bench enjoying the butterflies in the distance.

So, as I said, we are going out to a village next Tuesday. It was going to be yesterday but we had to change the date. We're very excited about going, but then there's a bit of nervous anticipation as well. I mean, life will be very different there. For example, missionaries talk about having three weights - your back at "home" weight (which is the highest), then your town weight in your host country (which is lower), then your village weight (which is even lower). It's so hot here, and you sweat so much and use so much energy to just do normal activities, that I'm already very skinny (again!) so I don't know how I can lose any more! It's not that they don't feed you enough in the village, but that their way of eating is so drastically different from ours. However, we want to experience village life, so rather than taking our own supplies of food, we're going to suck it in, ask for another coconut if we're really hungry, and eat what they eat!

I've enjoyed having my hair in small plaits all week - it is cool (in temperature) and solves the problem of my hair molting

But we're quite excited about going as well. Everyone we've talked to who has ever been there (locals that is) say it's a beautiful village - right by the sea, it's a sand beach with surf (which is surprising in this country) and you eat turtle meat. So, it'll be an experience.

The purpose of going is to experience their way of life, to do what they do, eat what they eat, live where they live. There's a temptation to go into this kind of venture thinking, oh I can do this for them, and repair that engine and teach them this, but we want to avoid that. We're

aware of the fact that we need to be the ones learning from them about their culture, their language, their way of life, rather than be the ones

who are experts. To be able to bond with the people of this country, we need to live as they do, if only for two short weeks. When you rely on your own confidences and competencies you will not bond with the host people. In fact they will be shy of you even more.

So you won't hear from us for just over two weeks. We plan to come back on the 22nd of June. Please pray for safety, but even more than that, that this village stay would be beneficial for us - learning their way of life and language, and growing in understanding and love for the Solomon Island people as a result. a flower I would love to pick, but it closes when picked!

Whit Mande

Hello and apologies for not writing for a while. I've been unbusy and then very busy. So, let me just tell you about two things.

Firstly our whit Monday adventures. Whit Monday is a public holiday here and there's an Ausie team here at the moment so Susan, our fellow missionary who works Bethesda Disability Centre thought it'd be a nice idea to take them out to some beautiful water falls that she's been too. So we loaded all the ausies onto the truck along with some of the Solomon Islanders who live at Bethesda and here at SWIM and Jair drove. Well, it was quite a way out and eventually we left the tarsealed road to go on a gravel, rocky, dirt road. It was a good road, as Susan assured us, but very hilly! It was quite fun, roaring along in the big old blue beast of a truck.

But then, on one particularly big hill, we stopped, smoke billowing forth from under the cab where the motor sits. One guy almost pounced off the side of the truck -ready for any kind of emergency. He wasn't going to sit around waiting to get blown up. Well, it wasn't as bad as that, but it was bad. The bottom radiator hose had burst bigtime! Everyone piled back off the truck (rather quickly) and the leader of the ausies wisely recommended all the white skins to go stand in the shade. While Jair and another guy from the team diagnosed the problem, the rest of the team discussed whether they should walk the next 4 kms in the heat to the beginning of the waterfall track, or whether they should go back.

At first there were questions. The initial plan was to walk back to the main road and walk back towards Honiara until we could catch a bus then go to SWIM, get another vehicle and try find a spare radiator hose. Finding a spare part here in the Solomons is hard enough on a normal day, let alone a public holiday!

Meanwhile, Jair and Ross (that was his name) were busy trying to extract this broken part of hose. They had no tools. Someone had a bush knife which they started using and a pair of tweesers and scissors from a first aid kit . And they had one spanner in the truck. And then one guy came up with a screwdriver which he had in his pocket. Praise the Lord! So then Jair and Ross had something with which to undo the hose clamps which held the radiator hose. I didn't photograph the hose pipe but it was a decent rupture - a scar in the shape of a half circle about 7 or 8 cm in length from the top of the semicircle to the other side. Well, someone came up with the idea of bandaging the pipe back.

Then the team decided they'd walk back to the main road, back to water, back to food, back to toilets and civilisation. And if worse came to worse, which I think they thought it would come to, they would meet us at a beach on the way back. They left us with a strap, a shirt (kindly donated from Susan) and we also raided the first aid kit for strong tape. You see, first aid kits aren't only for humans - nor are bandages.

So then Jair and Ross and the other 4 of us left behind, cut and bandaged and strapped this broken hose pipe, securing it with tape and cable ties. Then the two of them got back underneath the truck and reattached the bandaged pipe. George topped up the water (cleaning Jair and Ross at the same time...) and then we were pretty much set to go. So like, fifteen minutes after the team of brave ausies walked down the hill back to Honiara, we did a three point turn and came roaring, or rather rolling, back down the hill to pick them up. They were rather suprised, and I think, rather relieved.

Then we went to Bonegi beach, where there is the wreck of a Japanese freight ship from WW2, to do some eating, swimming and snorkling. All along the journey back we stopped every now and again to top up the water.

So that was Monday's big adventure. Jair has since replaced the bandaged hose pipe with a new massey ferguson tractor hose and now the old beast is as good as new, well, rusty and old, but she still goes!

The second thing I wanted to say, is that we're planning to go to a village for two weeks starting on the 4th of June. The lady whose house we're going to stay at is a bit nervous about having us because she wasn't sure if her humble leaf house where they just eat kumara and other vegies will be fit for us. But I assured her that we want to experience her way of life, so not to change anything at all.

It certainly got me thinking. You see, by our standards, they live very humbly. They probably have a spring, or stanpipe, or stream which they swim in, wash their clothes and dishes in, collect water from. They grow their own food. They live in leaf houses. There's no toilet apart from the bush or the sea (I don't know which one it will be in this village). So it's very different.

Someone asked me the other week if she could come to SWIM to fill up her water bottles because they were struggling to get enough water in their area. Quite a few people wander over to SWIM to collect water and one person once said to me, a bit worried and anxiously, "what happens when we run out?"

But as I was thinking about this water issue, and my friend Joy and her humble way of life, I thought, you know, Jesus lived like this. Jesus had to fill His water jug up at someone else's tap, or in His case, well. He didn't have His own house, or even bed, but slept on the ground somewhere. He didn't have a flushing toilet, or a shower where the water could stream down His back, cleaning His skin and refreshing Him. We live like kings in comparison, and yet it is He who is the King. But in His humility, He was not afraid to live without.

So then, how could I possibly balk at the idea of living for two short weeks without a toilet, or a shower, having to wash my clothes by hand. How could we begrudge anyone who comes to fill up their water when even Jesus had to go to someone to get water for each day.

It's not like we're going to build a little leaf house to live in. This is about changing our mindset. Not to expect comfort and luxury all the time. Certainly, be thankful if you have it, but then thankful when you don't. How can I complain that I don't like my couch when I think that Jesus didn't even have one! How can I complain that I would love a glass of juice when Jesus had to ask even for water? How can I bemoan the absence of a flushing toilet, when Jesus didn't have one either.

I told Joy, "Sapos hambol wei fitim laef blo Jisas, bae hem fitim mi tu." - If it was fit for Jesus, it's fit for me.

for that day

I have had a garden here for about a month now, but now, finally, I've actually got something growing in it!! The two gardeners gave us some plants and their expertise!! These are little bok choi plants with these cute little tents made from leaves to provide them shelter from the devastatingly hot sun! The fence is to stop the chooks from indulging in my little plants.

But that's not the point of my blog today. Last night we went to youth group because the youth had put on a culture night. They had split into groups to present dance and costumes (and quirky facts) about other 16 different cultures. I was amazed at how much they could do with the little they had. It really was a dessert for the vision - a Japanese lady, walking sedately, fanning herself accompanied by a ninja! A Maori woman doing a poi dance with a warrior doing the haka (as a kiwi this was very fun to watch!). Dancers from Tonga, Papua New Guinea, Kiribati, Fiji, Vanuatu, all clothed in various types of grass skirts or flowing gowns, but all showing their unique differences. A tea-towel headed Saudi Arabian man with his completely shrouded wife. A Kenyan woman, tall, brightly coloured, with all the regal splendor that comes with a African nations. The rappers from the USA and the giggling girl in jeans. It was amazing seeing how these Solomon Island youth from our church transformed themselves to dress and dance like other cultures.

There were two things that really struck me that night, apart from the wonderful performance.

After each pair from the different cultures came in, they showed a few slides with information about the flag, the population/language/currency, what the country is famous for, what their religions are and what their prayer needs are. What a novel thought! Praying for a country. Can't say I'd really thought about that before. I mean, not just prayed for the persecuted people in a country, but prayed, about a problem in a country. Anyway, the thing that struck me is this. That of the sixteen nations that were represented, most of them (apart from Saudi Arabia and Japan, I think) had high percentages of "Christianity". Solomon Islands was 97%. Other Pacific Islands had similarly high percentages. USA was 70 something, NZ 40 something percent. Now I don't know where they got the numbers from and it's obvious that none of them are accurate. You can't look at how many people tick "Christian" on a poll and say, well that's the percentage of Christians. I mean, why would I be in the Solomon Islands if 97% of the people were faithful, God-fearing Christians?!! In addition I highly doubt if NZ even has 20% of people who are faithful to God.

One of the locals had told me that a New Zealander had told her recently that NZ is predominantly Christian. Well, you've got to be pretty blind to think that's true! We might have some kind of lose Christian historic heritage, we might have public holidays on Easter and Christmas, but you ask anyone on the street (let alone look at their lives) and you can bet on the dirt underneath your boots (not that we bet...), they won't be living a life that honours Jesus as their Master. The closest they may ever have come God is going into a remodelled church building that has become a classy cafe,

My point is that it just struck me how easily we accept those stats, or how easily we think, I live in a Christian country when there are so many people blindly walking to an eternal fate of damnation! I think those statistics lull us into thinking that the problem is not that bad. Anyone would believe the world is predominately Christian and yet it is painfully obvious that this is not so. Maybe it's one of Satan's tactics to make us lazy. There's no work to be done - everyone's already a Christian! Little do we know...

Secondly, and more hopefully, at the end of the individual country displays, each of the representatives of the cultures came on stage and dramatised a song about how one day on that day, when Jesus returns, people of every culture and race will gather together praising their King. What an inspiring message that was - seeing those people dressed as Tongans and Africans and Indians and Arabs and Asians joined in a dance depicting the way we will all bow down in praise and adoration of our King. (It also reminded me of how deluded we can be to think that most of the Church today is white... I can't remember the facts, but I think there are more Asian Christians than white ones!) Oh what a glorious day that will be, when our cultural differences don't separate us because we will truly be one people of God. It made me long for heaven, again, and filled me with joy at the prospect of bowing before God, in utter, sheer amazement, together with everyone else in God's kingdom, of different colour or culture, but now to find our unity in the Kingdom of God. Will every country be represented on that day? will every city in every country be represented? Will every family be represented in that city on that day? Lord of harvest send forth reapers!

This week I read that Martin Luther had only two days on his calender. Today and that day. "I want to live today for that day".

plated hair and malaria

This is going to be a random blog - one which outlines some more of the random normal things that have happened lately. As I write, Laki is whining, so I whine back, trying to communicate to him to be quiet. I told him no one else is going to come to his pity party. But he doesn't seem to get the point!! He also doesn't understand the phrase "be quiet".

Anyway. A lot of the locals around here have been getting their hair plaited recently. It looks pretty sweet and I'm sure it's a lot cooler for them. They do it really quickly, which I was surprised at considering how curly their hair is! Anyway, Jair wanted to give it a go...

I think it looks pretty cool! So he sported that look for a few days, before it got fuzzy!

We went out for a day trip with Machi and a local Occupational Therapist to visit a school out in the bush. The road there was 4wd driving quality, so Jair was pretty stoked, sliding and skidding around in the ute on the mud. Thanks, once again, to the National Diaconnate Committee whose donation made it possible to help purchase a hardy Toyota Hilux!

Our mate Michael goes fishing as his favourite pastime, so he gave us a fish which we cooked. I've only dealt with fillets before so cooking a whole fish was news to me... But boy did it taste delicious!! I think I feel another episode of "Dinner at the Duinkerke's" coming up.

We had another crab visitor. While cooking the fish, I spied Laki sniffing curiously by the generator shed. He was checking out this whopping big crab (the other one disappeared... or maybe grew up). So I dutifully took a photo. No doubt someone would have found it by now and picked it up and cooked it and gobbled it up. Crab is a delicacy here!

I'd like to introduce you to two handy kitchen tools. That's right, the mortar and pestle, for crushing biscuits for my apricot fudge slice (mmmmm....). You can't really go wrong with a tomato sauce bottle (except for the hollow in the centre underneath - the crumbs kind of skirted inside and didn't get crumbed very quickly...) and the plastic container (from which rained out a large amount of crumbs). But the slice was good.

On Saturday, Jair took a roof panel off and replaced it with "plastic copper" - a sheet of corrugated clearlite. So now, we don't have a dark dismal lounge but a nice bright one. It rained on Sunday and the new roof piece didn't even leak. Good job Jair!

They even celebrate ANZAC day here, well, not with a public holiday. But a whole lot of Ausie and NZers (and interested Solomon Islanders) gather around the cenitaph for the dawn service. AUSAID funds the bacon and egg breakfast afterwards so we made sure we didn't miss out on that! First time we've had bacon for months!

After that, I felt awfully sick. I just thought it was because I was tired from the early morning for the dawn service. Achy. Fever. No appetite. Felt like spewing. Or fainting! Well, Monday morning I went to get my blood checked.... and I've got Malaria. Kevin shook my hand and said, "Congratulations! You're now officially a missionary here in the Solomon Islands!" ;)

Su'u: part tu'u

The second part of our adventures at Su'u at Easter weekend (which now, admittedly, was a long time ago) will take a different angle than our first. You see, there were alot of things we thought about and observed at SWIM, but then there was the actual experience of being thrown into the world outside Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands. So this is the story, how we felt it.

We woke up very early on Good Friday to go to the wharf and catch a ship. You must understand that it was only on the Tuesday that we actually firmly decided to go, so it was still all a bit new. We certainly didn't know quite what to expect. We did have breakfast, but it's hard to eat quantity at 4am! So anyway, we jumped on the ship (an ex NZ catamaran) and got to Su'u school at about 10:30am. When the whole group and all the materials for the tiling job had arrived, we had some "tea" with "biscuits". I learnt that biscuits are actually hard navy crackers, and to make them palatable, you've got to let them bathe in your tea so that you can bite and chew them. I think this is a fairly common Solomon Island breakfast. We were under the (wrong) impression that it was morning tea. Ahh, we had so much to learn...

Then the leader said, "well, we won't have time for lunch today; so we'll meet back at dinner." Well, this got me worried. I mean, what about afternoon tea? Let alone lunch! So we tried to eat as much 'biscuits" as we could and prepared ourselves for the long haul. That first day was quite hard. Not only was Su'u run down, nobody explained things like how to get water (it didn't come out of the tap - I don't think it occurred to them that this was new to us, that we come from a place where water always comes out of a tap), where to shower, go to the toilet, when food would be, how to shower, what to do. We thought there'd be tonnes of work and so I (Lauretta writing) felt bad for napping in the afternoon, but then, most people were...

Around "dinner time" we were starving, but we first had to do a play practice... but the women had already eaten. Well, in our western eyes it seemed so rude! Eventually we ate our dinner but there was no prayer, no sense of fellowship and being together while enjoying food. You just get your massive plate of rice and eat. It's part of Solomon Island culture that you eat at dinner and talk afterwards; but we realised our culture was different - dinner was a time when you talked and ate simultaneously!! So it opened our eyes to our culture and theirs.

After dinner eventually (everything takes a while), we went to the main dining hall, they had a bit of a Good Friday service with the students. Jair got an instant migraine because he was a bit dehydrated. The group we were with performed their easter play. More singing. More speeches. I started getting just a tad restless and tired! I mean, it was coming on 10:30 and the principal was still going full speed ahead! After it finished, we dragged our feet to bed and collapsed on our thin mattresses, looking up at the gigantic hole in the ceiling, hoping that the rats wouldn't come through in swarms, listening to the laughter and talking of the Solomon Islanders sharing the house with us.

Saturday didn't start much better. We were (rudely) awoken at 5:45am with the beating of the drum to tell the students to wake up. Well, after that there was a series of drums at different intervals. We didn't get out until 7ish and had our breakfast of "tea" and "biscuits". There weren't really any jobs for the women, apart from preparing food, but there were plenty of women. It all kind of came crashing in. We felt so out of place - everything was different. The eating patterns were different, the daily schedule was different - wake up early, nap in the afternoon, stay up late. Water and electricity were intermittent and you never quite knew when it would be on. Lunch and Dinner were always rice with noodles, taio (tuna) and slippery cabbage on top. Every meal was the same. Despite this being a country where fruit and vegies grow well, they didn't use that many fruit and vegies. So on Saturday morning, we were pretty lonely and culture shocked and sad and disappointed, missing our home and our people and our way of doing things. One lady said to me, "oh, you're probably finding this difficult, aren't you?" I couldn't have said it better.

I was almost hoping that a ship would be going back to the relative civilisation of Honiara!

But....

then we started talking to people, finding out about their lives, sharing ourselves with them, learning about their families, their experiences, their difficulties, appreciating their efforts. We spent more time with people, relaxing and working and we started appreciating them for who they are and their culture for what it is.

On Saturday morning, Jair was hard at work with the tiling and I went with a bunch of other youth to buy some chickens for the Saturday Feast that they do at Easter.

The chicken train...

So we went "wokabaot" to a village nearby. They instructed me that I was walking too fast; that I had to do the Solomon walk, slow, relaxed, gentle strolling. The scenery was so beautiful, walking close to the sea, through the jungle.

Five chickens soberly waiting in line to attain the same fate as the one at the back

In the afternoon I watched and talked to the women as they prepared the food in a motu. A motu is kind of like a hangi except that it's above ground. They light a fire and then let it die out a bit (I think) and then put rocks on it, then layers of banana leaf, then all the food, often wrapped in banana leaf, then they put another layer of banana leaf on top with bits of wood to hold it down. And it just cooks. In the end, when we ate it at the feast, it tasted great (although it can be a bit dry). The tables were laid with these dark red leaves. It was really quite festive.

Saturday night feast

Sunday we had two church services. It really poured down with rain while we were in there. We walked to the river on Sunday but it was too dirty to swim in because of the rain. Monday we played sports. Jair joined the boys playing soccor and I joined the girls playing netball. Many Solomon Islanders are short, so I had a bit of an advantage with my height.

Even netball is different here

Even the netball is different. No concrete court. We played on grass, with etchings of dirt to mark the boundaries! Before we went to Su'u everyone told us that the river was so nice to swim in, but every day so far it had rained so it was dirty. Well, on Monday, after netball, we went down and swum in the river. It was beautiful! Clean, fast flowing but still shallow. You swim against the current and it's like going on a breast stroke treadmill! In the late afternoon I went for another swim (and everyone said I was so strong, to be able to go for two swims a day... I still don't know what they meant...). The word "swim" in pijin usually means washing yourself (I wonder what people think we do at SWIM?!?), so I had two baths that day. I must say, there's nothing better than lathering yourself up, washing your hair and then sitting on a rock, leaning back and letting the water run over you. So refreshing. We had a "Solomon walk" back home as the sun set on the sea behind us.

Tuesday morning we were up even earlier than Friday - 3am this time. It was dark when we got to the wharf and I reveled in the still, calm night sky. Other people slept on the way over, but to me, what's the point in getting up at 3am and not staying awake to see the sun come up. It was just exhilarating. This photo only captures a slice of the beautiful colours rolling through the sky. I think this photo nicely finishes off our adventures - in the end, even in the middle, we had a great time. We may have had a bumpy start but we adjusted and learnt to appreciate these beautiful people of God!

This was worth waking up early for...

So Su'u

It's difficult to describe our experiences at Su'u school in just one short blog. What should we say? Do we talk about the purpose of the institute? The sobering message white missionaries can take from the history of Su'u? Do we write factually about what we did there? or how we felt when we were there? And how do we do all of this without boring you, our audience? I'm not at all sure, but I think I'll have to do this in two parts - part one: Su'u school.

Su'u school has been running for quite a few decades now. It is a Christian boarding school for boys and girls and is also a National Secondary School in the Solomon Islands (there aren't very many). It is near the coast on the island of Malaita. At the moment there are just under 300 students there but at its peak there were close to 700 (apparantly). Fees are comparatively high, so its privilege to attend as long as it is affordable for you.

Originally, there were many white teachers at Su'u who came over as missionaries to teach. It was founded by kiwis back in the 60s. Discipline was strong. The site was well managed. The "old boys" who were there in that time look back with fond memories. Among this group of early students are some important people in this nation - politicians, doctors, businessmen, university lecturers. Many people have gone through Su'u school and have gone on to make a big impact in their nation.

I think anyone would be saddened to see Su'u now, but this sadness must be acute for the people who spent their lives setting it up and those who first went through. We were sad to see the state of Su'u. Most of the buildings are dilapidated and decrepit. Many will certainly fall down in the next few years. The roofs are so dirty and rusty that people get sick drinking the rain water that is caught in rat infested gutters. The fields, once filled with cows, chickens, vegetables, fruit trees, now lie dormant, filled with grass so high you can't walk through.

The water system is lacking, with only running water 2-3 hours twice a day. Your can imagine the state of the bathrooms when the water hasn't been flowing for a few hours!

We managed to locate a reliable and clean flushing toilet at Su'u (I think this is a secret - it's only for staff but we snuck in and used it...). Horticulture at Su'u means trees growing in the gutter. Machinery breaks and is left to rust. Rats scurry through the houses and through the fields. The ablution blocks are septic - algae growing on whatever that liquid was on the ground. Squat toilets are overflowing. The wood is rotting on buildings that are still used. The chronic electrical system that has already claimed one life.

So this is Su'u. It's certainly sobering to think that at one stage it was a paradise, a hive of activity (they actually had bees and sold the honey as income), clean neat paths, maintained buildings, students involved in growing their own vegies. It certainly begs the question, how did it get like this? Why did it decline? How can we make sure that things we do as missionaries, ex-pats, don't fall to waste? I think the answers are long term answers. We're too young and inexperienced as missionaries to hazard good sound solutions. Then again, as someone once said, everything is bright at the beginning of the project. It's in the middle that most of life takes place and it's in the middle that it's the hardest.

So, Su'u is in the middle. In the middle of being after when it was established and whatever is in the future. What is being done in the middle?

Well, the old boy's association organises some projects, such as the purchase of the truck, or the building of the chapel (which is what we were involved in). The board, as ever, are working at improving things. Different short term mission teams come over at times to do small jobs. But it's hard to look at the place and do a small term job. Where do you start? How do you hold up the building that's falling down while you erect a new one?!

In a way, we're just keen to see what we can do to try get the tractor going so that they can cut the grass, plough the field and start growing their own vegies. The students aren't very healthy, living on rice, taio (tuna) and noodles but there is an enormous agricultural potential at Su'u. Huge untaped resources at their fingertips but they buy in 90% of their food. Aargh!

In fact, there's a lot of potential at Su'u in many avenues. But Su'u tells the story (at least we think it does) of people coming in, doing their bit and leaving. And then it's left to its own devices again. So Su'u cautions us to be wise in the way we give. Giving can hurt. You can't throw money at a problem and expect it to go away. What are the answers? We're not sure. We're only just finding out the questions.