Still Sitting in the Solomons

Woke up to a bell from shore at 5:30am and decided to embrace the non-rainy morning, as I sat on deck outside watching the sunrise, as the sound of musical pipes played from the beach. It is taking us a bit to acclimate to the heat and humidity, as we sit and sweat while doing anything, having to shut the overhead boat hatches with the rain, fans blowing directly on us. Paul stopped by and, after eating some fresh pancakes, we worked out trade for fruit, veggies, and the beautiful feather money.  

Items he was interested in were t-shirts, reading glasses, fishhooks, batteries, and sandpaper. He took us over to the vocational school grounds, where we walked around the many classrooms, homes, dorms, and churches.

I spoke to a lovely agricultural 21 year old female student who shared about her experience. We also walked over to a crystal clear freshwater spring that the community uses for bathing and laundry.

There was one mentally ill man, John, who followed along sharing that he used to be a drug dealer, spent time in jail, was a sniper, Solomon’s number one murderer, and was waiting for WW3. It was a bit unnerving, given his broken machete blade. He fed Calder some odd leaf that Paul had him spit out, said Calder would be just fine but not to eat more.

Later that afternoon, he had floats and was floating around in the anchorage singing loudly, “I am a murderer, no one wants to play with me.” It would be a hard lot in life to have schizophrenia on a remote Solomons Island, likely not much in the way of medication, counseling, or acceptance. A bit later a local panga came out, collected the floats, and John was taken back across the bay towards town.  

We have to admit that the bright red mouths from betel nut chewing is tough to get used to. Paul explained that it is like medicine to make people “healthy and strong,” though the science says differently. In the Solomon Islands, betel nut (areca nut) is commonly chewed with betel leaf and powdered lime (the mineral, not the fruit), producing a mild stimulant effect and bright-red saliva—hence the red teeth and gums and the frequent spitting; people often carry small bottles or containers to hold the lime or other chewing ingredients. It is deeply woven into social and cultural life, including hospitality and gift-giving, but regular chewing causes tooth and gum damage and substantially increases the risk of oral cancers.  It seems that every big smile we receive is bright red with poor dentition and stained teeth and gums.

That night, we had turned our VHF on 16, as we were expecting a friend’s boat to enter the anchorage at night and wanted to be on standby in case there were any issues. Just as we were tidying up the boat and getting ready for bed we hear “Pan, pan. Pan, pan” on the VHF. A different boat was coming in and had lost all power, had no working engines, and mainsail couldn’t be run due to a parted halyard; he had hit a reef briefly and was in danger of going onto the reef and shore. No option for us except to launch our dinghy and see how we could help, calling on our friends in Seaglub to do the same. Off the two dinghies went to help, with Seaglub pushing from the stern and t2 pulling from the bow; momentum was gained and the boat was brought to a safe anchoring spot. The disorienting darkness and pounding rain made it that more challenging. However, the safely anchored boat was very thankful for the assistance.

The four boats in the anchorage were invited to the beach at 4pm to listen to the bamboo band, as students held sets of PVC pipes of various lengths and diameters put together and hit with flip flops, as they sang, laughed.

Solomon Islands “bamboo bands” or percussion orchestras—traditionally made from bamboo, but now often from different-length PVC/plastic pipes, each producing a different pitch when the open end is slapped with the sole of a rubber flip-flop. The style has become a distinctive part of modern Solomon Islands music, often combining the pipes with panpipes, drums, singing, and dancing.

We watched a man in the water use a bow and arrow to try to catch fish (no luck).

Spent time chatting with a local teacher about the 60 students there (about 10 females) and areas of study of life skills, agriculture, carpentry, mechanics. The students spend a year or two at the school, followed by a year of practicum, then return for graduation. Shortly after we were at our boat, a dugout canoe stopped by; it was Hilda and her daughter Melody with a welcome basket for us.

The handwoven green basket had neatly wrapped bundles of cabbage, spinach, and mint. There were fresh flowers, coconut cakes, turmeric, ginger, tomatoes, and lemongrass. It was absolutely beautiful, made even more beautiful by the welcoming sentiments behind it as she wished us well on our journey ahead. Cooking with local ingredients is a fun challenge, as we first identify the foods gifted to us, then combine them into (usually) yummy concoctions.

Saturday morning we woke to the sounds of pipe percussion music from shore, locals jumped to action in a flurry of activity when a school of fish was near shore hauling them in. But the weather has “arrived,” a low pressure system and rain that is sitting on us. We cannot leave, as the waves have built to 3-4 meters on the beam. We are in the SPCZ (South Pacific Convection Zone). El Niño is supposed to push the SPCZ northeast and bring us drier weather, but for the past week the SPCZ has stubbornly parked itself right over the Solomons, giving us a very un-El-Niño-like run of wet weather even as the larger climate pattern shifts toward drought. It is supposed to stay like this for at least a week, and it seems that the dry season is not truly dry in Solomons currently.

Just like all of life, there are ups and downs in cruising. We have “cabin fever.” Chris and I managed to escape for a jungle walk, ducking under a tree with a squall came in, our ankles a mosquito feast. Moses offered us a ride in his canoe back to our boat when our VHF didn’t work to hail the boat. Paul stopped by and gave us a papaya; we gave him some rice. A panga full of young men swung by asking for beer; we told them we were a “dry” boat and though disappointed, they still smiled. Moving forward, we are a “dry” boat; it’s just too tempting for others to come over (and a friend boat was just boarded last night in the dark asking about alcohol). The quaint pipe music is getting repetitive, as we start to recognize song patterns; it is now going all day and into the night. There’s nearly constant rain, so we shut our hatches and sit in the boat, sweating. Then there’s a brief respite, so we open everything up for a few minutes to get some air. Good news is that we are gathering lots of rainwater using our catchment system; the water tastes great and we all get a cold shower every night to cool us off before bed. It smells like wet dog in the boat and, lacking the dog, this is unfortunate. We do laundry with all the rainwater and hang it under the cover in our cockpit, surrounded by a bunting of underwear. I work. The kids do school. Chris is working on a light/alarm security system. My Instapot suddenly stops working, which I use at daily as it makes cooking easier, no use of propane, and doesn’t put steam and heat into the air from the stove/oven. It’s been a huge improvement in daily quality of life. I put the beans, after picking out the bugs, on the stovetop instead. After two hours, they still aren’t cooked. They are bad beans. The beans, the rain, the instapot, the cabin fever…it’s the tipping point. I remind myself that I can be profoundly grateful for this life experience and still be homesick for Alaska.

We are safe and secure, sitting in the Solomons. The jungle is beautiful. Cora and I make brownies and Calder and I, between squalls, run them over to the musical students who look at me with bafflement; I am such an alien here. A few thumbs up and smiles later they dig in.  Connection made. Calder has a great interaction with the Principal, who reassures us of our safety and says we should stay as long as we need to until the weather improves. Calder gives him his old watch and he is excited to have a timepiece, since he been struggling with keeping bells and classes on schedule.

At night, we see the flashlights shining into the trees; flying fox (fruit bat) hunting for food. We hang out with the folks from the other boats here, are creating a small floating community through these “sketchier” areas of our route. We are anchored deep in the bay and near shore – the closest of all the boats.  We feel we are literally in their bathtub, as they take their nightly baths in the ocean. John, our schizophrenic friend, is back and hops on a piece of plywood, singing and paddling his way out to us. Chris visits with him for a half hour, making a good connection as he continues to float on his plywood next to the boat; we feed him a brownie and he gives us a lemon. He gives us “the code” and tells us we’re “good.”  The next day, wonderful Hilda and her daughter Melody paddle their canoe out to us with another beautiful natural basket of offerings from her personal garden. We visit for a while, Melody is happy with the fingernail polish we give her.

Our Solomons Visa is only 30 days long and today is day 8; we must make some progress north. We have a two-day passage to get into the main chain of Solomon Islands and it looks like a departure today is the best bet for the least convection (thunderstorms). The waves are not ideal. The wind looks good. With a bit of nervous anticipation, we leave here with a couple other boats.

As we leave Nendo Island I will remember the lush jungle our boat tucked into for a week, the pipe and choir music that echoed over the water, the offering of a humble lemon from John, the hoots and laughter from the students on shore, and the kindness of Hilda.