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.