Sticky Situations

I don't know about you, but I love seeing other people's awkward moments. Okay, that sounds kind of harsh ... but let me explain before you judge me. I don't love seeing people stumble or do something stupid because I like making fun of them (although if you are a friend of mine, guaranteed I will, because that's what real friends do). I like seeing them because then I am reminded that I'm not alone in my awkwardness. The best times are when you see someone who seems just so put together, someone who intimidates you, when you notice them trip over their own two feet or accidentlly let a little fart slip (or 'brus' I should say).

I think whether you want to admit it or not, we all kind of revel in other people's awkwardness at least a little bit. (That's why magazines with articles about "Celebrities without make-up!!!" and "Stars go to the grocery store just like us!!" and "Which famous bums have cellulite?!" are in existence) Maybe it is connected to that natural loneliness we all share (see my past postings for more on that), the confirmation that we are human, all the same. 

Thing is, that more often than not people don't even notice your awkward moments, or if they do they often don't care all that much. (And if they are the sort of person who DOES judge people overly on those little slip-ups they are probably just super insecure themselves anyways or, like I said before, a good friend who is just waiting for a good opportunity to get something that they can hang over your head for the rest of your life.) We are most often are our own biggest critics.

That all being said, I have a couple stories to share of encounters with my own clumsiness. (I figured after my last two slightly depressing posts I should lighten the mood a bit to prove that I haven't turned into some sort of emo-island-dwelling-hippie during my time in the Solomons!)

Story numba one:

The barge: in the background you can see another WWII wreckage

The other weekend I walked to the "side sea" with a few of the kids who live here on the SWIM base. It seems to me that locals refer to "side sea" as the nearest beach area. The nearest beach area to us is about a ten minute walk away, through a logging company property where all the workers live as well. So, inevitably as you walk through the yard, each house you pass by more children join the trek to the beach and by the time we got to the beach there were quite a few of us. Being the only "adult" there (I put "adult" because I still have a hard time thinking of myself as one of those), at any given time I was in the water I had at the very least 3 little kids hanging off me . So that gave me a bit of workout.

On this beach there is an old rusty barge, left from WWII, that the kids jump off of. I figured that I should at least jump of the barge one time, because how often does one get the opportunity to play on a little piece of history? Now, there is only really one way up for me (there was another way but that way was a small hole that only a small child could fit through- not really an option for this lady.) and this way was to climb up two little logs that were resting up against the side of the barge. These logs were slippery I should add. For an agile, small, active child something like this was not much of a barrier, but for a clumsy person like myself it was a bit more an obstacle. But I tried anyways. 

I got about halfway up with not too much effort, but I soon found myself a bit stuck. So here I was, halfway up a slippery log, hanging onto it for dear life not really knowing what my next move should be. Meanwhile I had about twenty kids watching me  (the awkward white lady) from every angle, coaxing me in Pijin to get up onto the rusty barge. I remember thinking, wow is this ACTUALLY happening right now? But, I did end up getting up on top and I got to walk about the top of the barge. But, my un-callused  feet couldn't handle too much of the burning hot rusty iron and I jumped into the refreshing sea.

 

Story numba two.

Last Saturday, most of the SWIM base headed out to the beach. (It sounds like all I do is go out to the beach- but honestly I do a bit more than that! Promise.) We had a lovely time frolicking in the water and looking at all the pretty fishes and coral and we topped off a great morning at beach by stopping for ice cream on the way home! So half of the group stayed by the truck while the other half of us went into the shop to get the ice cream. The plan was that each of us would get a cone for ourselves and one for someone else.

Mikey

Now, I need to briefly paint a picture of the scene here. The truck is parked on the opposite side of the street to the ice cream shop. So, we had to cross the busy highway on a Saturday afternoon, which is always an experience in itself- remember there is not one traffic light in the country. It's also hot, really hot. The type of hot that ice cream becomes simply "cream" within a matter of moments.

So here I am, on one side of the street waiting for a big enough break in traffic with a ice cream cone in each hand, in the hot sun. Of course by the time I got across, despite my best efforts, I had sticky brown ice cream streaming down one arm and sticky pink ice cream streaming down the other. (I mean, its not like you can exactly lick someone else's ice cream cone, that’s just a bit rude) As I hurried as best I could down to where the truck was I could feel my lava lava (aka sarong) starting to slip and as my hands were a bit full and sticky there wasn't much I could do to remedy the situation… quite the sticky situation I must say. (Sorry I HAD to say that!)

Theresa got nearly as messy as i did with her ice cream!

So, now I'm awkwardly waddling over to the truck (in some sort of strange attempt to keep my lava lava on), while I'm shifting between  licking the ice cream on my arms and my own ice cream itself and also flicking my head in various directions attempting to keep my loose hair out of the sticky mess. (Ya, I had stupidly forgotten to tie it up. So foolish.) But, despite my waddling  efforts my lava lava still managed to come loose and start trailing behind me. It wasn't a huge deal for it to come off as I was wearing shorts underneath that by western standards they weren’t all that short of shorts, yet by Solomon standards they were pretty short. Of course though all of this occurred not only in front of everyone in the truck and on the street, but also in front of a construction site. Not surprisingly I got a few calls and yells from this. So that was a bit embarrassing to say the least. Thankfully, soon someone came to my aid and I before I knew it I was in the truck bed eating my chocolate ice cream pretending that the past few minutes had never occurred.

Wanted

Today I heard a story. It's a story I've heard before. It's a story that we've all heard before. It's a story about abandonment, about neglect, about not being wanted.

Not being wanted.

It is truly heartbreaking. And like I said, It's a story that I've heard, we've all heard, countless times, about countless people all over the world. It's a story that we hear and we often feel a bit distraught about for a few moments but largely we've become desensitized to it. Or at least that’s what I've found to be the case for myself.

What's different about this story? In many ways not much. But in many ways so much. The girl in the story is someone that I have gotten to know a bit over the last number of weeks. And she is just that, a girl, a young woman, fifteen years old. It's a story that's not over yet, It's literally playing out before my eyes. When I heard her story it hit me in a way that stories like just like hers don't always do. Inevitably, I thought about how very blessed I am to BE wanted. To know without a doubt that there is a place I can come home to, a family and parents who will love me unconditionally. It's no new revelation to me, it's something that I'm reminded of regularly, but today has been one of those days where it's hit me again, really sunk in. I've realized again how rare a story I have.

Really breaks your heart for people. It makes me wish that you could just wave a wand or people to feel the love that Christ has for them.  But you can't, it's a knowledge that each person has to come to on their own. Sure, there are things you can do or say that can help people along, but in the end its just between them and God. Maybe I'm just getting a bit nostalgic or emo or something like that, but it's just been one of those moments that makes you really think.

So that's what's been on my mind today. Here is the chorus to one of my favourite songs. It's a song that represents one of my biggest prayers for this trip (and life in general too).

Give me Your eyes for just one second

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Lord give me Your eyes

 

 -Brandon Heath 

A bit of a side story about this song: When I was in Dadala village, I was sitting on the beach just doing a little journaling and such. As usual, I wasn't alone for very long and I was soon surrounded by a bunch of kids wanting to see what I was doing. One of the boys started reading aloud what I was writing down. Even though I am pretty sure that he and the other children didn't understand much of what he was reading, there is something really vulnerable about having your personal thoughts read allowed for everyone to hear. So I quickly put an end to that by flipping to pages in my journal that have the lyrics to worship songs, quotes and scripture written on them and let him read those pages aloud instead. Even though it was a simple thing, for me it was a powerful moment. There was something about hearing a child read those lyrics aloud and with such childlike innocence that nearly brought me to tears. Like I said, I have no idea how much that boy or the other children around us could understand, but nevertheless it was beautiful.

Refocusing

We all have those days. Those days where you just feel on the outside, not yourself and frankly, alone. Sometimes there seems to be a lot of those days and other times many days go by before you experience one. Whatever the case may be, I think that it is safe to say that everyone knows what it feels like to feel alone. I think that is a large part of being human.

I had a few of those days this past week. There is probably a number of reasons to why this was the case, one though being the fact that I had a cold and just laid low for those days. (Quick side note: having a cold in a hot place is really weird. 'Cause you have all the classic symptoms of a cold; headache, sore throat, runny nose etc. BUT you are not cold, you are freakishly HOT and sweating. Just weird.)

Now, I know what you are thinking. "DUDE you are on a freaking TROPICAL ISLAND right now, you do NOT have the right to complain about anything right now. I DON'T CARE if you are feeling a bit lonely or feeling a bit under weather. GET OVER IT."

There is a point to sharing this other than complaining I promise.

Someone once posted this quote as their facebook status on the subject of loneliness that I just think is fantastic. So here it is:

"A thought on loneliness: As humans we crave belonging, we need the connectedness to others that brings security- but this connectedness can prevent the natural movement and evolution that we need in our lives. It can also get in the way of creativity and stifle the natural loneliness that pushes us to discover something new, that pushes us closer to God. This loneliness is the loneliness of the individual who steps out of the group, who takes a chance on what can be discovered and done outside of the norm"

-Jean Vanier

There is a lot of reasons why we, as people, can get lonely. And as I said above part of the reason I've felt a bit down is due to the fact that due to my cold I spent a bit too much time on my own. But, I think that there is a bit more to it as well. As I have been reflecting a bit on my week, I was struck by something. It became clear that my focus had shifted, shifted away from my God. I have been forgetting to include Him in all that I am doing. I have been trying to go on ahead and do things on my own strength and in my own way rather than focusing on the whole reason that I am here in the first place.

As, the quote above suggests, a little loneliness is natural, is healthy even. It is this that forces us to get closer to God, to cling to Him. And that is certainly my prayer for the rest of my time here. That I can remember to include God in ALL of it. To let Him guide me. To let myself learn what He has to teach me. 

  

Bieber, Bruce and Barbossa

Whenever I "stori" with any locals about Canada, I am sure to make it clear that we are an Independent country; as in we are NOT part of the United States. I have to admit that we are indeed North Americans but then I again have to stress that we are NOT  Americans, (just to make sure they understand the difference!)

I need to apologize to all my Canadian friends though. I'm afraid that after I've made sure that everyone knows the difference between Canadians and Americans, I go on to talk about Canadian weather. By the time the conversation is finished, no matter what I all say or explain, I pretty sure the only thing they remember is that  Canada gets really cold. Oh, and the other thing I leave them with is that Justin Bieber and Celine Dion are from Canada. So, now Solomon Islanders are under the impression that Canada is a frozen tundra with a really bad taste in music. (Which I suppose, is actually a decently accurate description of some parts of the country...)

Little fun fact for you; "brus" (pronounced like the name 'Bruce') is the pijin word for fart. Yup, that’s right! Fart. So if your name is Bruce and you want to visit the Solomon's, you may want to consider going by a nickname during your stay. Don't ask me how they came up 'brus,' maybe there was a guy named Bruce back in the day who had a gas problem?

Another fun fact; there is not a single traffic light in all of the Solomon Islands. Naturally, that makes crossing the street a bit of an experience. And when I say 'street' here I DO mean a paved highway with quite a number of vehicles speeding by.

Driving here in general is a bit of experience here in itself. Traffic laws can be best be summarized by a quote from a favourite movie of mine; in that they are "more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules." It's not total chaos by any means though, people just calmly steer out of the way or slow down when necessary. I haven't seen any road rage here, people screaming and flipping the bird at each-other, well, at least none of the locals. If you do see any negative reaction to stupid driving, it will more often than not come from a weatman!

Kokorako

We have these neighbours. They live across the street. (And by street I mean, the little dirt road in front of the SWIM base) They come from the Republic of Kiribati, which is made up of many islands in the South Pacific. Some of these islands are sinking (possibly somewhat due to the ice caps melting and all the fun stuff climate change brings) which has forced many to flee to find new homes.

The Kiribati people love to sing and dance. There is nothing wrong with this of course, singing and dancing is a beautiful thing. I mean, I love to sing and dance (although when I sing and dance it's not exactly a beautiful thing). And in their singing and dancing they are worshiping God and that's an even more beautiful thing. 

But there is this little problem. They sing at STUPID hours.

What do I consider to be stupid hours? Well, take the other night for example. It was someone's birthday. (We knew this because at 10pm we heard the "Happy Birthday Song" in their language, every word was in their own language except for the actual words "Happy Birthday" and "Hip, Hip HORRAY!", it was fun to listen too.) At 10pm they started singing.

And for the record when I say singing, I mean SINGING. The kind of singing that comes from your gut. The kind that is really yelling and screaming to a melody. I mean that in the best way possible, they really do have lovely songs and voices, they just have tons of power and volume to go with it.

The "leaf house," where I am currently staying.

I went to bed around 11 or 12pm, and somehow at some-point, I managed to fall asleep. Only to be awoken  at 3am the sounds of the Kiribati people singing away. I lay awake for awhile. (this partly had to do with the singing and partly to do with the fact that somehow, for the first time in the 4 or 5 years that I've had my nose pierced, I managed to pull out my nosering when I woke up in the night. And then I had to spend half an hour in front of the mirror trying to force the dang thing back in because I didn't want to lose the ring or have the hole close too much and make it even more difficult. So THAT was fun.) I was relieved when the singing ceased and the party seemed to be over and I rolled over and fell asleep. But, their party was not over and either a new group started singing or the old one just took a little break and carried on. Whatever the case was, I was again awoken and when I looked at my clock, it was 5am. 5AM! And they just kept on going 'till morning. Needless to say, I didn't get a ton of sleep that night.

THAT is what I mean by stupid hours. Oh, and this isn't just like a one time occurrence. They will be singing at stupid hours at least once or twice a week. 

So, don't tell me that climate change isn't a problem. It is because of it that I don't get a good sleep at night. And that's a problem, and not just for me, for the people around me. Both because they aren't getting sleep either AND that I get cranky with lack of sleep. 

So, PEOPLE, listen up! Reduce, Reuse and Recycle;  don't pollute; play nice with our earth and everything in it; ride a bike; hug a tree. It's important for many reasons, but right now it's important so I can get some freekin' SLEEP!

I have managed to acquire a nice pair of earplugs, which has been a wonderful blessing. I can actually get a bit of sleep now! Yet, there are times when I can still hear the singing and I have still been woken up! It's ridiculous. But such is life I suppose.

My Nemesis

While I'm on the subject of sleep, or rather lack there of, I have to briefly rant about roosters. There is this myth that roosters crow at dawn. I say myth because it is implied that roosters ONLY crow at dawn and that they only crow three or so times. (At least that is what I have been led to believe all these years) And they DON’T. Roosters crow any freeking time they WANT TO. Yes, they will crow at dawn, AFTER they've crowed at 4am and 5am before and then they will CONTINUE for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. I hate roosters. Fortunately, I have only encountered these fowl beasts (pun most defiantly intended there) when in Dadala village and not here at the SWIM base. So that has been a blessing at least. But I still want to make sure that the myth of Roosters is all cleared up for anyone who has been in the dark on this most solemn subject. O ya, and while i'm on the subject of annoying animals, I shouldn't leave out the dogs. They, like most dogs around the world, love to start barking JUST when your at that fragile halfway point between being awake and asleep. And it's even better when a female (I will refrain from using the proper word for it here lest I offend a fragile soul who may be reading this...)is in heat, 'cause then all the males have to fight and that's another fantastic thing.

I should probably end on a positive note, because I don't want to be a downer and complain. Wait... I'm NOT trying to complain, I just simply wish to INFORM. There's a difference. Anyways,I'm going to tell you one of my favourite things about the pijin language. There are a number of things, but one is the word "save," meaning know. It is pronounced like 'savvy' or 'savie' or 'savey'… as in the way I imagine pirates say it. Needless to say, whenever I say "save" I feel like a pirate. It's awesome.

PS "Kokorako" is pijin for chicken. Just so you "save". ARRRRRRRRRR!!! (that is my attempt at typing out a pirate's fearsome call)

Kaikai and Kumara

"Kaikai" is the Pijin word meaning 'eat' or 'food'. What does the average Solomon Islander kaikai you ask?

Well, the simplest answer to that would be Kumara.  Kumara, kumara and rice and rice more kumara and rice. 

When I was in Dadala I ate with the family and naturally, then, ate what they ate. (Which was more often than not kumara- SURPRISE!) There is a traditional order of eating  here; guests first, then the men, then women and lastly the children. So, as culture has it, I found myself eating first (usually joined by the men though) while the women of the house sat waiting and watching. Even though I was not surprised about this, as I had experienced the same tradition when at a homestay in Samoa, it still was slightly uncomfortable for me. Despite this family being seemingly more loving and gracious to all family members (as compared to other families I have heard about), there is still a visible hierarchy.

Eating my last meal with the family

This family has actually built a separate dining house, with a big table. (I don't think this is very common here- especially in a village!) So this is where we ate many of our meals. Although on occasion, particularly later in the evening, after dark, I would eat straight in their kitchen. (Which, despite it being having a dirt floor and fire pit for a stove, is very big- even for North American standards!) The last meal I had with the family before I boarded my ferry back to Dadala, Mary and Mamai (who were the only women around at the time) sat and ate with me and the men at the table (after some coaxing) and that was nice.

Back to kumara though. (Can't get away from it!) If you don't know, kumara is a sweet potato. And if I hadn't made it clear, they eat a lot of it here in the Solomons. I don't think I can stress that enough.

However, they DO have a few other things for kaikai. They have pana, which is similar to kumara but a bit less starchy, along with a number of other root veggies like yams and taro. Quick note; I don't particularly have a problem with root veggies, (I don't think I'm allowed to be seeing as my father is a potato farmer- even though that fact has could also lead to me having a massive problem with root veggies- but that is a totally separate rant for another time. I digress..) honestly I don't. My issue is that they are only cooked in a limited number of ways. They either boil them in water/coconut milk or bake them in their traditional ovens (aka wrapped in big leafs and placed in the middle of a pile of hot stones) and then served plain. I really did love  the kumara/pana soup they made with coconut milk, onions and salt. (Although it would be STELLAR with a little corn and bacon!! Mmmm bacon!)

Another staple in a Solomon's kitchen is rice. Of course, isn't a traditional food here (brought in with the Weatman- the Asian's are considered to be Weatman as well FYI) , but nevertheless it is very popular here. Usually served plain (surprise!), but if there are some chicken or beef noodles around you may be served your rice with noodles on-top (often with some beans or onions mixed in as well)

A Solomon "piknik" which the family (and seemingly half the village) so graciously made for us! We went to a separate little island about a 10 minute canoe ride from Dadala, where the family is in the process of building homestay facilities.

Fish, (or "Phish" if you are Dadi Henry who constantly mixed up his 'P's' and 'F's'- pretty cute actually!) is another thing  I ate "staka" (much) of! Being from a province that is totally land-locked and decently far from the ocean, fish isn't exactly the first thing on my favourite list. But I must admit that fresh fish is pretty darn tasty! Although I couldn't quite bring myself to eat the fish soup and defiantly not the eyes of the fish.

Of course you can't forget the fresh fruit; pineapple, papaya, mangoes, bananas, star fruit and the like! SOOO good. SOOO sweet and DELICIOUS!! Yum. I could go on about this almost as long as kumara, but I will restrain my emotions this time. 

I don't mean to complain or disregard  another culture's food (because I seriously have enjoyed some great food here), but after a week of meal after meal of kumara, pana, rice, noodles and fish; I was very excited to return to my pasta, buns, bread and CHEESE!! I'm giving myself a week free of kumara before I allow myself to consume any more. (Which is actually ending tomorrow I've just realized! I don't know if I'm mentally prepared for this though…)

While on the topic of food, I must mention a little problem that one must face while cooking in this country. Ants. These little buggers get into freekin' everything!! Upon returning to the base and acquiring various ingredients for my kitchen, I too soon learned the importance of putting things in handy dandy tupperware. I've also learned that the best way to get a bazillion ants out of your muesli or sugar is to place it in the hot sun! I've also learned to accept the fact that regardless of how hard you try, it is inevitable that you will still consume ants in any given meal.

Dadala

Last week I boarded the 360 Discovery ferry and sailed off to Gela Island where I was to spend a week at a village called Dadala. To give you a little picture of what things are like in the Solomon's, I will tell you my very first experience at this village:

After the 2 hour or so ferry ride, I was informed by Lauretta that our stop was next.  As we stood on the back of the ferry I was unable to see where exactly the ferry was headed to, however, looking out to amount of sea there was between our ferry and the shore I remember wondering how we could be so close to any sort of dock. No sooner as I thought "Ha! I can totally imagine them just slowing the ship down just enough to toss us and our bags ashore as we float by" the ferry engine was shut off. After I got over my momentary confusion, I looked down over the edge down to the sea and saw a little canoe floating just below us. I am pretty sure I simply burst out laughing at this point. Classic Solomons.

So- I awkwardly lowered myself into this canoe with the help of both the men on the ferry and those in the canoe, while in a skirt,  with my poor balancing skills, with they eyes of every passenger on us (inevitably to see if the white girls would fall into the sea) and the camera lenses of the few token white and asian guys pointed in our direction- and we paddled our way to Dadala.

Over the next seven days I had the honor of getting to know and falling in love with the Takosi family. Mami (Kathryn), Dadi (Henry) and their children "Small" Henry, Philip, Hellen, Mary, Fanny, their grandson "Little" Henry as well as their friend Chris (who is currently staying with them). All these people have become near and dear to my heart and welcomed me so graciously into their home. (Well, maybe not "little" Henry seeing as the baby literally cried in fear every time I came near)

Three young children canoe past at dusk (defiantly wouldn't happen in our part of the world!)

Much of my time in Dadala was spent 'resting'. More often then not despite efforts to help out, I was told "iu go rest nao." Although, I spent much time reading, sitting by the sea and "stori" (talk) with the villagers, that was certainly not all I did.

First though, I would like to spend some time describing the bathing situation here.  It strikes me as ironic, that, for a country and village where modesty is so important (I couldn't even wear long shorts in this village, only knee length and longer skirts were appropriate) that they shower right out in the open. So whenever I wanted to "suim" I had to trudge out to the tap on the side of their house with only my lavalava wrapped around me hoping and praying that the clothing pin holding it in place, would, infact hold it in place. Never mind the experience of attempting to discreetly remove a wet lavalava while holding a towel around yourself.

Did I mention that you could count on at least a couple chickens and possibly a pig being within feet of you? As well as the eyes of at least a few curious children?

I have never felt more like a foolish "weatman" in these moments.

Despite the downfalls to a public, outdoor shower, there are fantastic benefits as well. Having a cool shower in evening after a full day in the hot sun, under a bright nearly full moon, watching fireflies dance among the starry night sky was one of those simply beautiful moments. THAT'S why one has an outdoor shower.

House where the women of the home sleep

Far left is the kitchen, the dining room (YES I said dining room!) and right is the boy's hut

But, enough about showering, back to me proving that I did more than just laze about.

A couple times I took the fifteen minute canoe and fifteen minute hike up to the family's garden. Now, when I say garden, I'm NOT talking about a couple tomato plants in pots on the back deck or the four by four plots with a row of carrots, beans and lettuce and a few herbs, that we proudly refer to as 'gardens' in the west. I'm talking about a few Acers spread out over hills in the middle of the bush packed with kumara, pana, cabbage, beans, banana, pineapple, betel nut, coconut and pawpaw.

It was awe inspiring.

Just one part of the garden!

Of course, this garden is the primary source of food for this family, so its size is understandable.  O ya, did I mention this garden is for ONE family? And is mainly maintained by Mami and Mary, with only their hands and a few bush knives? I spent a few hours weeding one afternoon and did not cover a very large area. Kinda sad really. However, weeding with a bush knife adds a "cool" factor ('cause everything is cooler with a large knife) as well as a "danger" factor. (danger of chopping off one's own toes)

But, I cannot believe the amount of work that is put into this garden. Mami goes there every day (except Sunday) to get a bag full of kumara and pana to feed her family for the day. SUCH a hardworking family.

And I'm referring to the men as well (which is not always the case), who are currently working on the church building (the scafolding they constructed would send a western health and safety inspector into shock!) as well as a new home for "Small" Henry and his family.  

A hardworking family and a well-kept village like Dadala, unfortunately, is not all that common. Before the white people came in this was more-or-less the traditional way of life for most Solomon Islanders. White people, who taught them to become dependant on hand-outs and thus not take ownership of property and thus become lazy. It is truly a sad story that can be seen repeated in many of what we call "developing nations."

I learned much during my stay. Practical things like 'scratching' coconuts, fishing with a rubber band and metal spear, showering in public, a little more of the pijin language and cooking kumara. But also, and probably more importantly, I learned more about people and culture. I was reminded that communication has little to do with words, that smiles and a warm demeanor can build relationships. I witnessed how the way one makes a living as a lifestyle, rather than simply an occupation. I saw a glimpse of how I, as a "weatman" is perceived by the people in this country.

 I experienced some of the truly beautiful and horrible ugly parts of this country and these people. All of them however, I am grateful for and count myself to be very blessed.

 

(Left to right) Me, Chris, Mary, Dadi, Mami, Hellen and Philip

 PS: If you noticed something different about the title of this blog you would be right, because I changed it. "Aregumane" (it is probably not spelt that way, but its not really like I have a pijin dictionary on hand to look up the proper spelling) is (apparently) a word of surprise. This word was taught to me by some people in Dadala and every time I said it everyone around me would burst into laughter. Now, there could be many reasons for this: one; it really is just a funny word to say or two; in reality it is some sort of dirty word, or three; my attempt at a Malaysian accent sounds more like a terrible impression of Mario or Luigi, or four; some or all of the above. Whatever way, I've had some good moments with this word and would like to give it a place of honor as the title.