Solomon Grassroot E-Book

Ann Lindvall Arika

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 349

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The autobiography Solomon Grassroot describes what it is like to move to a new country on the other side of the globe, from an industrialized, so-called developed country to an agrarian one. The author Ann Lindvall Arika has taken the step from Sweden to Solomon Islands in Melanesia, Pacific Ocean, where she married a man from the ethnic group Kwaio on the east coast of Malaita Island. We can take part in her everyday life on a grassroots level. She portrays episodes from her daily living, both in the capital city of Honiara and in her husband's village. She brings up essential cultural aspects and background facts about the nation as a whole. Photos and maps complete this unusual story. The book is a translation and further elaboration of two published books in Swedish: Korallbaltet - resor i Melanesien och Mikronesien 2008 and Harhemma i Honiara - mitt liv i Salomonoarna 2011.

Leseprobe

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With these words, I want to thank iufala evriwan, ‘all of you’, who have helped me make this book come true.

A special thanks goes to Anne-Maree Schwarz, Suzanne Feary – both of them living in Honiara – Jean Hudson and Gloria Webb, who have given valuable comments and suggestions. Thanks also to my wantoks, ‘one-talk, same language’, Björn Svensson and Eva Carlsson, as well as Janet Fenwick, Jean Schellhart, Karen Graybeal, Rosebud Armstrong and Shanti Dorairaju Fowler for the same reasons.

Thanks, Lime Lounge and YWCA, both in Honiara, for their great helpfulness.

Last, but not least, a big thanks to my husband Robert Arika, all my family members, relatives, friends and neighbours for explanations, advice and encouragement.

Taggio tumas, evriwan.

Bao le’a baita, famoru te’efou.

REVIEWS

‘I read this book before starting to work in Honiara and it was a great introduction to life in “The Hapi Isles”. This is essential reading for anyone who wants a deeper understanding of contemporary life in Solomon Islands.’ Björn Svensson, Australia. Volunteer, Tourism Advisor in Solomon Islands (‘The Hapi Isles’)

‘I met Ann Lindvall Arika in Honiara in 2012 and again in 2019. Helping her with editing and translating has been a great pleasure and a privilege, not only because it can now be read by a wider audience but because it opened my eyes to so much about Solomon Islands and her people. This book is about her life; how she came to understand and adapt to Solomon Islands culture and society and to flourish in a place that has many challenges. It is the most fascinating, honest and accurate insight into Solomon Islands culture that I have ever come across, and, in my view, should be read by everyone intending to get there. I will be recommending that the Australian Volunteer programme make the book essential reading for future volunteers going on assignment to Solomon Islands.’ Suzanne Feary, Australia. PhD in Archaeology. Assisting the Ministry of Culture & Tourism in Solomon Islands

‘A great “culture guide” with lots of useful dos and don’ts.’ John Berggren, Sweden

‘Ann Lindvall Arika tells us not only what she observes but also how she feels, with honesty and humour ... She has quietly adopted Solomon Islands ways and lives as Solomon Islanders do. If you are a visitor to Solomon Islands, this book will give you additional insights to enrich your own experiences.’ Anne-Maree Schwarz, New Zealand. PhD. Collaborator on Marine Resource Management, Solomon Islands

‘I could not stop reading... Your writing means a lot to me, for it is like scratching under the surface, trying to understand our complex culture. Getting down to the Melanesian mind set can be very difficult for most people of other cultures, but you are able to do it quite well. I congratulate you Ann. I want you to write more.’ Dr. Lazarus Tavichikai, Solomon Islands

My linguist friend and colleague at Malmö University, Sweden, Ann Lindvall Arika, who has chronicled many of her travels over the years, tells us about everyday life in her adopted country. Her story is about day-to-day happenings enhanced by her own insightful reflections on events and characters in this Pacific nation.’ Jean Hudson, Prof. em. on English Linguistics, Sweden

‘Somewhat the same theme as in The White Masai by Corinne Hofmann, but with a different end...’ Lisa Lundqvist, Sweden

‘Why would a highly experienced and world travel writer as Ann Lindvall Arika from Sweden, a developed country, want to marry someone in East Kwaio and spend her entire life in Solomon Islands? – That’s my question.’ Julian Maka’a, Writer for Island Sun, Solomon Islands

‘Ann Lindvall Arika’s book Solomon Grassroot pulled me into a journey into another world. The ‘former’ picture of the South Pacific is substituted with a new and fresher picture than the one many of us have been ‘fed’ with. Not only her knowledge but also her experience as a traveller give a new dimension to travelling as an art, with a warm and active participation in other cultures – a travel story which ends up in emigration. The people around her are an important element, where ‘Respect’ is one of her mottoes. She also touches the negative impacts of the Western World, important to emphasize. I as a reader am really getting even more interested in this part of the world, and the desire to travel is, after this reading, almost irresistible.’ Maria Veneke Ylikomi, Language Consultant, Writer for Maia, former Publisher, Sweden

‘Replanting oneself in new soil is nothing unusual, but doing it in so different soil is unusual. The writer and Ph.D.-linguist Ann Lindvall Arika writes from her and her husband’s palm leaf house in Solomon Islands’ capital Honiara. She paints house, surroundings, people, animals, daily duties; That is the life in a country where nobody is in a hurry but where everybody has something to do. Interpersonal relations are the important issue, not strive after individual success.

Lindvall Arika sees herself as an ordinary ‘grassroot’ in a Solomon version. But she is of course not so ’ordinary’. She is a well-educated, European woman who manages the piece feat of neither romanticizing nor give way for exoticism, a balance act which I think few would manage. She is doing it with a maintained integrity. She tells in a simple way how it is; about people around her, and also about political, social and economic conditions in a country, which, as it appears, may have similarities with any old agrarian country. That is the exciting point with her book – to see everyday life so far away, to understand the feeling of home-coming which is the point of departure of the book. The book awakes thoughts about our own society; do we have it best? Ann Lindvall Arika has a personal answer to that question.

Solomon Grassroot is written in a vivid and fresh style. Rich background facts and many photos complete this unusual emigrant story.

Kerstin Gansmark, Culture Reviewer, Sweden

FOREWORD

Solomon Grassroot is a translation and further elaboration of two published autobiographic books in Swedish: Korallbältet – vresor i Melanesien och Mikronesien [The Coral Belt – Travelling in Melanesia and Micronesia] 2008 and Härhemma i Honiara – mitt liv i Salomonöarna [Here at Home in Honiara – My Life in Solomon Islands] 2011. Part I is based on the first book covering the years 2006-2007, when I was still travelling. Part II is based on the second book covering 20082011, where I mainly depict my own living environment in Honiara and in East Kwaio. Part III covers the following years 2011-2020. Statistics, prices etc. are always from 2020, even in Part I and II.

Then, who am I? I am a Swedish woman and have been based almost all my life in Sweden. (I have travelled quite a lot, though.) Solomon Islands is my new home country and the capital Honiara my new home city. Via my marriage, I have been given a big family, and this book describes everyday life here – mine and theirs – as a Solomon ‘grassroot’. My family belongs to the ethnic group Kwaio, living on the east coast of Malaita Island in Solomon Islands. Consequently, I want to give a deeper insight into the Kwaio culture, as well as background facts about the nation as a whole.

The autobiography is an attempt to answer the questions: Why did I take the step? What is everyday life like? What kind of happiness and sorrows do the people have? How do the different cultures meet? Is the culture ‘totally different’, ‘enormously exotic’, etc.? How can a foreigner feel at home here? (My friends who emigrated from Sweden to Australia describe their step as a move to the neighbour’s house, compared to mine.)

I have tried to be neutral and objective, but still, all my impressions are interpreted through my Swedish eyes; anything else is not possible. But now, come with me and have a look yourself!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Reviews

Foreword

Table of Contents

Where Do I Live?

PART I: THE WAY HOME

FIRST STOP POLYNESIA

Writing, languages and travelling

Bienvenue à Tahiti

Cook Islands

Auckland, New Zealand

The Pacific

A SCENT OF MELANESIA

Welkam to Vanuatu

Cultural Center

Mele Maat

Bonjour Nouvelle-Calédonie

KING SOLOMON’S HIDDEN TREASURE

A new country to love

Solomon Islands in short

The capital Honiara

Towards Malaita!

Christmas in Gounabusu

Dolphin Center and Kwai Island

Auki

Back to Honiara

Happy New Year!

Gizo

Munda

Nusa Roviana with the stone dog

Holopuru Falls

Skull houses on Kundu Island

Honiara revisited

TO AND FRO IN THE PACIFIC

Marshall Islands, Micronesia

Back in Honiara

Bula Fiji

An important meeting

A Declaration of Love

Fiji again

Reunion with Tonga

Intercultural problems in Samoa

PART II: AT HOME!

EVERYDAY LIFE IN HONIARA

Tristesse

Honiara in summary

The people in Solomon Islands

Arrival

The house

Koa Hill and its inhabitants

Residence permit

Daily life

At the market

Pets

Pigs

Water and culture

The battle about the energy

Guadalcanal and war movies

Palm felling

Bugs and other annoyances

The new veranda

MALAITA

At sea

East Kwaio

Fousisigi

Friday market in Wa’ini

Christmas in Fousisigi

Village life

Food and meals

To the gardens

Handicraft

Canoe sealing

The hidden people

Gender roles and femininity

Clothes

Floating families

Child rearing

Conflict

Folk belief

An academic family

Shell money

Our ‘holiday house’

Truck adventure

TIME GOES BY

Back in town

Natural catastrophes

Our own ethnic tensions

House girls

Vanuatu, a Duty-Free paradise?

Europe

Tourist life

Compensation

Kastom and wantok

The Colonial Ghost

A death

A church wedding

A kastom wedding

A third wedding

PART III: EVER AFTER

DYNAMICS AND PEACE

New house

Economy and paradoxes

The Big Flood

Alcohol and other drugs

Violence

Languages in Melanesia

Solomon Pijin

Names, kin terms and ways of addressing

Focus on age

Parliament election

Media

Health and ill-health

Soap and craft

Economic equality

Another culture?

Development of society

Here I Live

Afterword

Photos

Maps

Contact the Author

Where Do I Live?

The sun is sending its first rays through the coconut palm and makes the leaves in the walls shine golden yellow. From my mattress I look up to the beautiful woven ceiling. It has been daylight – or big day as we say here – for a long time, but as the house here in Koa Hill is shaded by a mountain top, it takes some time for the sun to reach the house. I slip out from the mosquito net, quiet so as not to wake anybody up, wrap a lavalava, sarong, around me and go out on the veranda. Pussy is rubbing her body up against me. She is hungry and meows heartbreakingly.

Above the house, the slope rises sharply towards the American Memorial, the monument for fallen US soldiers during World War II. Below the house runs the Mataniko River, having emerged from the mountains behind Vara Creek. The river will continue under the Mataniko Bridge, the bridge that separates Chinatown from Honiara’s centre, leisurely pass Chinatown where some Chinese women hang their laundry and some Melanesian men chew betel nut, and then end up in the ocean.

Back to the house. On the other side of the river, looking south, dizzying green heights are outlined, and behind them is Guadalcanal in all its mute isolation.

Koa Hill, south-west of Chinatown, is a suburb of Honiara. Honiara is situated on the north coast of the main island of Guadalcanal and is the capital of Solomon Islands. Solomon Islands is situated just under the equator, east of Papua New Guinea and north-east of Australia, far out in the Pacific Ocean.

This is where I live. This is my home.

The way home has been long.

PART I: THE WAY HOME

First Stop Polynesia

Writing, languages and travelling

Everything in my life has circled around three areas: writing, languages and travelling. So what was more natural than I became a writer of language textbooks, a travel writer and a lecturer in ‘International Migration and Ethnic Relations’. And took a PhD in Linguistics.

Almost all of my life I have been based in Lund, a university town in southern of Sweden, characterized by an extensive ethnic and cultural diversity. Early on I was curious to see the world. My compass led me to Europe, Asia, Africa, North and Central America (while South America is still to be done) and, of course, Oceania. If they still stamped the passports, I would count 61 stamps by now.

In 2006 I was planning to get material for my book about travelling in Melanesia and Micronesia. This long journey needed thorough planning. I had to do several stopovers in places where I had been before and fallen in love with, so it suited me well. I had six months to burn. So via Copenhagen, London and New York I started with French Polynesia.

Bienvenue à Tahiti

Around midnight between 1st and 2nd October 2006 I took my first steps on the rain-wet tarmac at Faaa, Tahiti’s International Airport. Tahiti is the main island in French Polynesia and the site of the capital Papeete. At the hostel Chez Fifi I threw myself on the bed. Although I was deadly tired, I could not sleep: my mind was racing, thinking about everything. For example, where I was, and where I was heading.

I had been to seven countries in the Pacific: French Polynesia, Cook Islands, New Zealand, Fiji, Tonga, Samoa and Hawai’i, and now I was planning Vanuatu, New Caledonia, Solomon Islands, Marshall Islands, Kiribati and Nauru. I thought that I would cover the Pacific fairly well with 13 countries, until I found out that there are 22! Or rather countries and territories. Not all of them are independent nations, but it doesn’t stop them from having a very particular identity. And I thought I had a reasonable idea about Pacific culture as a whole, characterised by a strong social affinity focused on the family and their own ethnic group.

The Pacific, Papua New Guinea, Australia and New Zealand make together up the continent of Oceania. The total population of the Pacific in 2020 was c. 3 million, not including Hawai’i or Easter Island (which are, in spite of indigenous Polynesian populations, counted as parts of the USA and Chile, respectively).

It was my third visit to French Polynesia, and I spent some weeks visiting my old ‘hunting grounds’ from where I had Nice Memories: the capital Papeete, around the island of Tahiti by bus, and Tahiti’s sister island Moorea with its Tiki Village Theatre. The latter is a kind of open museum with old style houses, artefacts, exhibitions and dance performances. The dances are a miracle of grace and beauty. Black pearls!

I took a flight to the atoll island of Rangiroa in the Tuamotu archipelago, where I had also been before. I longed to see something new, to travel even deeper into the country, to feel the suction of the Big Blue. But I had to give up the plans, because French Polynesia is so, so big, and the communications so, so sparse. I would have needed six months for French Polynesia alone.

Cook Islands

After French Polynesia I spent a few weeks in Cook Islands with the same purpose as in French Polynesia: to see my old ‘haunts’. I thus saw the mini-capital Avarua, as well as Muri Beach, had an appointment with the famous naturopath and tour guide Pa, and saw more dances. The dances in Cook Islands are even more beautiful than those in French Polynesia. Then something new: Aitutaki, ‘the world’s most beautiful lagoon’ according to the brochures. Yes, it qualifies. And at four o’clock in the morning the plane set off to New Zealand.

Auckland, New Zealand

After one month in Polynesia, I had, to say the least, a culture shock at my meeting with the metropolitan city of Auckland. High, high houses, many, many cars, hurry, hurry. Well, I would only stay there for two days waiting for the flight to Vanuatu, New Caledonia and Solomon Islands. Melanesia!

Solomon Islands – I was indeed hesitating as to whether I should go there. Lonely Planet and BBC had made me scared with reports of riots, curfews, criminality, foreign military presence, ‘don’t-travel-outsidethe-capital’, etc. Even the name Honiara sounded threatening. I would surely be robbed/raped/killed as soon as I put my nose outside the door. What was I getting into? Not only Solomon Islands; the whole of Melanesia seemed threatening – a lot of dos and don’ts: don’t touch that plant, don’t step over drains, don’t go there if you are woman and...

A staff member, David, at the backpacker hostel in Auckland, was from Solomon Islands. He was happy to hear that I was going there and gave a lot of tips brochures and his mother’s email address, and I thought that if people there were as nice as he, then it could not be that bad. I was beginning to look forward to Solomon Islands. But now Vanuatu was first in line.

The Pacific

Polynesia, Melanesia, Micronesia. The names flicker by. All three are parts of the Pacific Ocean, and all three are Greek words, which reveals that they are named by Europeans.

Polynesia – meaning ‘many islands’ – is situated in the eastern part of the Pacific Ocean and occupies the largest area, from Hawai’i in the north to New Zealand (or the indigenous name Aotearoa) in the south, from Tonga in the west to Easter Island (or Rapanui) in the east. It is one of the world’s largest geographical areas, and there are indeed many islands. On the other hand, it is one of the most sparsely-populated, since most of its surface consists of water. In the east, the islands are atolls; in the west, they are volcanic islands, intensely green, with a mountain peak in the middle. Polynesia includes New Zealand/ Aotearoa, Cook Islands, French Polynesia (under France), Hawai’i (under USA), Niue, Easter Island/Rapanui (under Chile), Samoa, American Samoa (under USA), Tokelau (under New Zealand), Tonga, Tuvalu and Wallis-Futuna (under France).

Melanesia – ‘black islands’ – is situated in the south-west part of the Pacific, south of the equator, north-east of Australia and south-east of Papua New Guinea. The name Melanesia is controversial. Some scholars claim that it refers to the people, since they are much darker than in the rest of the Pacific. Another interpretation is that it is the islands that are black, not the people. The islands are high and mountainous, and from a distance they appear black against the horizon. Melanesia includes Fiji, New Caledonia (under France), Solomon Islands and Vanuatu, and sometimes Papua New Guinea.

Fiji has an exceptional position. Geographically Fiji is a country in Melanesia, and ethnically speaking the Fijians are Melanesians. On the other hand, culturally and historically, Fiji has much more in common with Polynesia. There are numerous legends and myths that tie Fiji to Samoa and Tonga.

Micronesia – ‘small islands’ – is situated north of Melanesia, just north of the equator and east of the Philippines. And most certainly they are small: small atolls which hardly stick their nose above the water surface. The bedrock consists of coral or limestone. The countries are: Federated States of Micronesia (sometimes simply ‘Micronesia’), Guam (under USA), Kiribati, Marshall Islands, Nauru and Palau.

A Scent of Melanesia

Welkam to Vanuatu

Melanesia hit me like a fist in the stomach. Certainly a kind fist, but nevertheless a powerful one. Actually, I had no expectations in advance; still, I immediately felt on arrival that this would not be like anything else I had experienced so far. But I felt welkam, the word for ‘welcome’.

When the plane dropped over the coconut plantations, I was terrified. Here I had never been before. The guidebook warnings as well as my own fear returned to my mind; ‘the whole of Melanesia seemed threatening’, etc. But the tension released when we landed at Bauerfield Airport in the capital Port Vila. In the arrival hall an amusing music group was performing, in blue flowery shirts, green flowery lavalavas and with wreaths of flowers on their head. They were playing string band, some kind of swinging Dixie, which I would forever after associate with Vanuatu.

‘...walk a hundred meters to the exit where the main road leaves the airport parking lot and wait for a regular public bus’. Those were the instructions in Lonely Planet. I walked a hundred metres; a middle-aged woman with a little girl stopped a regular public bus and helped me ‘on board’. The woman, sturdy, dark-skinned with afro-hair, was sun-shine all through, and the girl, with long, black hair, had the most de-lightful grace in her little face. This was my first meeting with Melanesians.

And there would be more meetings, for example at the conference at the Cultural Center in Port Vila (or Kaljoral Senta as it is written in Bislama, one of the three official languages in Vanuatu).

Cultural Center

The Cultural Center, a building built in a modern style, is located right opposite the Parliament. The conference had been arranged to gather ongoing research about Vanuatu. There were anthropologists, archaeologists, cultural workers, linguists, social scientists and gender researchers from all over the world, as well as from Vanuatu, of course. It is Vanuatu, together with Solomon Islands, that displays the largest cultural variation in the whole Pacific.

To my disappointment, most of the presentations were held in Bislama, which is quite different from English. And this in spite of the fact that the titles in the programme sheet were in English.

During the breaks they showed documentary films. One touching, almost poetic, film was about the searching for a song, and I began to understand in earnest that this was Melanesia, not Polynesia but something different, something deeper.

And I learnt something more. In Vanuatu, as well as in the rest of Melanesia, there are two parallel legal systems: the local kastom system and the colonial-inspired central administration. Minor conflicts are usually solved locally, while serious crimes are referred to central courts. Kastom (Eng. Custom, Fr. Coutume) is a generic term for everything deriving from the own traditional culture, before foreign influence.

The cement for Melanesian kastom is the wantok system, obligations to help somebody with the same language. Wantok means literally ‘one-talk’, that is ‘same language’. Since Melanesia in general is characterized by an abundance of local languages, the language forms a kind of affinity. Somebody with the same language is almost a relative.

In addition to the conference room, the Cultural Center also includes a research library and a museum. The museum displays artefacts from all the islands of Vanuatu: canoes, baskets, spears, bark works, masks. Some masks and other cult artefacts radiate strong power and are eerie. Still, the ‘strongest’ artefacts, the ‘magic stones’, are locked up in the museum vault. These are artefacts you can use to harm other people.

The farewell party offered traditional dances by a troupe from Pentecost. The dances were striking; performed in the light from fire and solely with male dancers. Men in loincloths of grass and woven panda-nus leaves and with rattling shell chains danced to drums as the sole instrument. The rhythm was hard and fiery. Sweaty backs shone in the lanterns. The dances were warlike, radiating power, not soft and erotic like the Polynesian ones, not intended to please but to frighten.

And it was needed. The whole Pacific has been the subject of European influence: ‘discoverers’, traders, missionaries and colonizers. To some extent, this contact brought a mutual exchange, but also – with or without intention – a great deal of damage. One example is the so- called blackbirding in the 19th century. Some 29,000 islanders from the whole Pacific, but mostly Melanesia, were recruited or kidnapped to go to Australia or Fiji to work in the sugar plantations.

This unprecedented contact with the wider world meant that the islanders also contracted its sicknesses and died like flies. By 1920, Vanuatu’s population had dropped from 500,000 to only 40,000. The islanders resisted as much as they could, and warfare with head-hunting and cannibalism made Melanesia a dangerous part of the world.

Mele Maat

After the conference I wanted to learn a little more about the country and chose to stay in the village of Mele Maat in their small-scale model of tourism – Village Stay. Chief David and his wife welcomed me with dignity, humour and warmth. I was shown around and presented to everyone in the village, and it was quite a big village. I was put into a little cottage, made of leaves from the sago palm.

As a gift to Chief David, I had brought some kava roots. The crushed roots from the kava bush are mixed with water for drinking. It is commonly used in the Pacific, especially in Vanuatu, Fiji, Tonga and Samoa and gives a mild intoxication. Kava plays an important cultural role, and the preparation and drinking are ritualized.

In the afternoon there was a ceremony for three deaths, which had occurred one year earlier, with bible-reading and mild singing in Bislama. After this, I was invited to go with the villagers to the burial site and to place some flowers. At first, I felt the super-Swedish fear of imposing, but on the contrary, they were honoured by my presence and shared their flowers with me. It was an old man and two little twin girls who had died almost at the same time. We placed the flowers and stood by the graves for a while. The widow wept silently. The mother of the two little girls did not seem, in my eyes, very affected.

‘It’s all right,’ she smiled.

Self-control is a virtue in Melanesia. Or the infant mortality is so high that nobody really counts their children under a certain age.

Then I walked around and studied the simple tombstones. Strikingly many had died young, at 40, 30, and yes, 20. The villagers told me that she or he had been perfectly well but one day just fell down and died, and they also knew why: sorcery, witchcraft.

Outside Mele Maat I visited The Secret Garden or Mele Cultural Centre and Nature Reserve – a botanical and cultural park. There were traditional houses and canoes, and everywhere I could see signs with information about the pre-Christian Vanuatu, about the history of Melanesia and Mele Maat and about the all-prevailing kastom system.

Vanuatu has a wild history with extensive cannibalism, of which the latest known case happened in 1969. Cannibalism has taken place in many parts of the world, for many reasons. One strong factor in the Pacific has been the need to get access to mana, spiritual power. Eating the enemy is the ultimate conquer. More base reasons like the need for protein cannot be excluded either, and in Vanuatu there are stories that the meat of ‘long-pig’ simply was tasty, tastier than pork. Therefore, they kept humans as, yes, cattle and commodities. To get over the psychological barrier to eat other fellow humans, they thus identified the victims as ‘different’, either slaves or enemies.

More tales and creepy legends. Blood, body parts, death. Finally, it just became too much. I had some kind of mental short-circuit from all the experiences. I felt that I could not take anymore. I could not be the monkey in the cage, I could not be the sensation of the village, and I thought that if there came one more person wanting to shake hands or one more child shouting ‘hello’, then I didn’t know what I would do. I could not get angry with those sweet people. And all those questions: ‘How many children do you have?’ (Not: ‘Do you have children?’) ‘Where is your husband?’ (Not: ‘Are you married?’) Culturally bound questions that demanded culturally bound answers, which I could not give. You are not supposed to be single and childless.

Bonjour Nouvelle-Calédonie

The next Melanesian country in my travel plan was Nouvelle-Calédonie, or New Caledonia, a territory still under France. The capital Noumea is a kind of ‘Little Paris’. It is a multi-cultural town. Here are Kanaks, i.e., the indigenous inhabitants, as well as French, Tahitians, Chinese, Vietnamese and Javanese. Surprisingly to me, there were many Polynesians. They even have their own shop, Tahiti. My roommate from the youth hostel confirmed that 10% of Noumea’s population are from French Polynesia. They come there to work.

‘It’s so easy,’ she said, ‘same currency (i.e., XPF, Pacific-francs) and same language (that is French). And so close, only a five-hour flight.’ That is exactly what she said: ‘only a five-hour flight’. I, being from the small-scale Europe, have other definitions of ‘close’...

After a few days in Noumea I took a speed boat to Ile des Pins, a smaller island where I stayed at the locally-owned accommodation Gîte Nataiwatch. I had rented a tent which I shared with Megan, a woman from Switzerland I met there.

Not far from Gîte Nataiwatch you can see Le Rocher or The Rock inside the water a few meters from the shore. There was something magic about it; the rock, as well as the water, changed colour according to the daylight. One afternoon I snorkelled around it. I found myself in an enormous school of fish, silvery, similar to herring, and suddenly I felt like I was inside a symphony. Millions of fish, over, under, before or behind me, the largest school I had ever seen, let alone swum inside. Suddenly, the school disappeared, and the corals were visible. Light blue-purple and turquoise branch corals shone towards me, as well as all kinds of fish you could ever imagine. But the water was cold.

The Rock was fascinating. Chiselled into the rock was a landing with two carved poles. It must be some sort of tourist decoration. Some rough steps led there; I would have to climb a little. But the landing was an altar, and I understood, felt, that this wasn’t a tourist ploy. This wasn’t for me. The sense of gravity made me turn and go back.

Later I read in a brochure that it is forbidden to climb the rock; it is sacred. Yet later I heard that a Japanese woman had been killed because she had climbed it. Some said that there were signs with warnings in French, but that she didn’t know French. But I hadn’t seen any signs. And yet later I heard from the local woman at the tourist information centre in the nearby town Vao, that the ancestral spirits live there. Yes, the carved poles, resembling the traditional Kanak rooftop spears, represent the ancestral spirits. That explains it. It also explains the sense of worship and magic I felt.

On the maps, the rock is only named Le Rocher or The Rock. I asked a man about its real name; he hesitated and then said that he had ‘forgotten’. Too sacred to be even uttered perhaps, especially for strangers?

Back in Noumea, I took the bus to Centre Culturel Tjibaou. The centre is located outside Noumea, a futuristic building with three towers reminding me of giant corsets. It is named after the independence leader Jean Marie Tjibaou, who was assassinated in 1989, and includes art exhibitions, media displays and a botanic-cultural park. Along an arranged path named Chemin Kanak or Kanak Road, informative signs tell visitors about the plants, their names and their medical and cultural importance. The use of the coconut palm is endless. Trunk, leaves, nuts – everything is used in some way. Pandanus is not edible, but the leaves are used for mats and baskets. Croton, especially red, is a shrub which is planted in the whole of Pacific to mark land borders and graves.

From New Caledonia I returned to Vanuatu in order to change flights to Solomon Islands. The reunion with Vanuatu was warm, both temperature-wise and emotionally. The same string band played at the airport. Imagine, I arrived here six weeks ago – how unsure I felt, how little I knew, how new everything was. Now it was as if I had lived in Melanesia my whole life.

When checking in at Bauerfield Airport there were only five other passengers for Honiara, all Caucasians or ‘Whites’ as they are referred to in Melanesia. Hmm, is it so bad in Solomon Islands that nobody goes there? New riots? But I shouldn’t have worried; half an hour before departure, all the Melanesian passengers poured forth, both from Vanuatu and from Solomon Islands. Of course. Only people from less relaxed parts of the world, come two hours before departure.

King Solomon’s Hidden Treasure

A new country to love

The origin of the name Solomon Islands is obscured in layers of history. This group of islands was, according to legends, known among the Inca population in Peru already in the 16th century. The Spanish colonizers in Peru called them Islas Salomón, because they believed that it was the country where King Solomon’s treasure was hidden. On that basis they convinced the Spanish King Philip II to pay for an expedition, led by Captain Don Álvaro de Mendaña de Neira. Mendaña thus ‘discovered’ the group of islands in 1568 for Europe. (That is, despite the country already having been discovered by the people who lived there, as well as by the Incas in Peru.) In English, the name became Solomon Islands.

A new country to love. How much I had feared it, and now after 14 years, this is my home country.

Solomon Islands shares history and culture to a large extent with Vanuatu. Here, too, people used to live in small ethnic groups on the islands, sometimes violently with head-hunting and cannibalism, and here, too, the society is built upon the traditional kastom and wantok systems. And here, too, came traders, blackbirders, missionaries and colonizers who would affect the future of the country forever.

According to Lonely Planet, I could take a bus from Henderson Airport to Honiara ‘under the trees by the main road’. ‘Under the trees by the main road,’ I chanted to myself as I walked with my baggage. Look, a big road and look, trees and look, a minibus! The driver asked me with his eyebrows, as they do in Melanesia, if I wanted to go with his bus, and I confirmed, also with the eyebrows. But in what direction was Honiara? I could not ask lest I breach the Traveller’s Rule 1A:

‘When you arrive at a place for the first time, act as if you have been there hundreds of times before and know all rules and prices and don’t intend to be cheated.’

I had a 50% chance to succeed... And in Honiara centre they dropped me at the little six-cornered green kiosk of the Visitors Bureau. There worked an Angel, who gave me maps, brochures, phoned Bulaia Lodge, which I had got tips about in Sweden, and drove me there! In that way I arrived at a cosy guest house with only local guests, a kaleidoscope of islanders. It is situated in Chinatown, a blue two-storey building with the cheerful sign Bulaia Backpacker Lodge. But I never saw any backpackers. An airy sitting-room with high ceilings and a little kitchen. I got a bed in a dorm for four, all by myself. ‘Dorm’ is called ‘transit room’ here.

The receptionist Shirley showed me ‘the burnt city’, the ruins after the burnt Chinese stores from the riots five months earlier. This now made up my view. Distorted iron skeletons still poked up from the rich green of tropical plants, which had taken over the grounds of the buildings. Bulaia Lodge, too, had been seriously threatened by the fire. The riots were aimed at the Chinese-owned stores, and Bulaia Lodge is Solomon-owned, but what does fire care about nationalities?

I lay on the bed, while the sun was setting and the cicadas were bellowing. In the evening it was a bit noisy outside, and some guests were obviously drinking. Maybe not the best place after all? It could be cleaner. But anyway, I had reached my goal. Zzzz...

Solomon Islands in short

After Captain Mendaña’s visit in 1568, it was another 200 years (called ‘The Great Peace’ by the islanders) until European conquerors and missionaries began the colonization. Solomon Islands, too, was affected by the blackbirding. In the 1890s the country was established as a British protectorate. During World War II, Solomon Islands was the site for severe battles between Japan and the Allied forces.

Solomon Islands gained independence in 1978, but the country has remained as a member of the Commonwealth, with Queen Elizabeth II of England as Head of State. The regime is parliamentarian. Several internal disturbances have shaken the country. The ethnic tensions in 1998-2003, mostly between Guadalcanalians and Malaitans, were in practice a civil war with a death toll of several hundred. It was mostly Malaitans living in Guadalcanal who were killed. Even today, Malaitans won't dare to go into the inner areas of Guadalcanal.

These ethnic tensions led to the establishment of Regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands (RAMSI) in 2003, an Australian-led peacekeeping mission consisting of 15 countries to secure the country’s stability. The fighting ceased the same year, but RAMSI stayed until 2018. RAMSI’s role was controversial. For example, there were participants from Fiji (which recently had had a coup d’état), from Tonga (which recently had had riots) and Papua New Guinea (which had severe criminality). A drunk RAMSI-soldier on leave in New Caledonia shot and killed a woman. Two drunk drivers ran over and killed people on the road in Malaita. Talk about sweep your own floor first.

Most islanders live off agriculture and fishing. The most important raw materials are timber and fish but also copra (dried meat of coconut), palm oil, gold and minerals. Tourism is marginal. The country is situated in the ‘Ring of Fire’ (i.e., the countries surrounding the Pacific Ocean) with innumerable volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, but the country is largely spared from major cyclones. The climate is tropical.

Solomon Islands consists of six larger islands and c. 900 smaller ones. There are nine provinces: Central Province, Choiseul, Guadalcanal (or ‘Guale’ or ‘Galekana’), Isabel, Makira, Malaita, Rennell & Bellona (or ‘Renbel’), Temotu and Western Province. Understanding the geography is complicated by the fact that the old Spanish and English names are mixed with the local ones. For example, the Spanish-named island and province of ‘San Cristobal’ is nowadays referred to as ‘Makira’. Maps and guide books are inconsistent; some use the Spanish name, some the English and some the local. Guadalcanal is named by a member of Captain Mendaña’s crew after his village in Spain (which in its turn might have been named by the Arab conquerors)!

The nation has in 2020 c. 690,000 inhabitants, of which c. 90,000 live in Honiara.

The capital Honiara

Honiara was recently ‘crowned’ the dirtiest capital in the whole Pacific. Hm, well maybe. But they didn’t say anything about the humblest taxidrivers and the most honest market vendors. And the most wonderful people in the Pacific – yes, in the whole world.

Slowly I walked across the old bridge over the Mataniko River towards the city centre, smiling and being smiled at in return. The road was, and is, shaded by large flame trees. The main street, or actually the street, wears the elegant name Mendana Avenue and stretches along the coast, parallel with the harbour.

The town’s marketplace, Honiara Central Market, was larger than the market in Port Vila, and in addition to vegetables, they also had a section for handicraft. No haggling over prices, always the correct change. Beside the fish market, some children were swimming at the pier. Outside the market I met a couple from the Vanuatu flight, who would sail and dive in Solomon Islands. They complained about the heat and that there were ‘so many people’. Yes, it was quite crowded. They seriously thought that the main industry in this country was tourism. Haha-ha. Instead, it is agriculture and fishing with simple tools, a fishtinning industry, a brewery with the tasty beer Solbrew and foreign logging companies. The country had in 2006 c. 11,500 visitors (in 2019 c. 27,900), compared to Fiji’s annual almost 900,000 visitors.

I had planned to look around in Solomon Islands, and therefore I raced around like a scalded cat between Solomon Airlines in the town centre and the speed boat company Solomon Express east of town. This was four days before Christmas; it was like trying to get a train ticket in Sweden during the same time. Everything was full, and travel was seemingly impossible, but at last I stepped out from Solomon Express’ office with my gems in my hand: boat tickets to Auki in Malaita over Christmas and to Gizo in Western Province (both provincial capitals) after New Year.