THE SOLOMON ISLANDS AND LISA
Nobody in my life comes close to Lisa from a pure inspiration and leadership perspective. This woman is phenomenal, she is the reason that I know beyond doubt that women leading is the way forward, provided they lead like women and stop trying to be men.
Jacqui Lambie, this horrible woman, and so many others just trying to be the men around them when it is the last thing we need. The evidence of the masculine approach to leadership shows it is a categorical failure, it is pure stupidity to even think that this has the potential to take us anywhere positive at this stage.
Lisa, she is what leadership is, her motivation comes from her heart but her actions come from her brain. She does what is right regardless of the personal cost to herself and her family, she does what is right because the broader perspective is so much more important than her little bubble.
The Solomon Islands is a tough place dominated by tribal patriarchy. This sytem not only allows but encourages the abuse of everything power related and corruption is rife. The elite are minimal, the impoverished are everywhere, the elite do not see them at all. Elite in this scenario is not solely the rich, it also includes the upper ranks of the tribal hierarchy, primarily men but a few women too.
This abuse, as you might imagine, creates significant harm, many many people are left behind. For someone to stand up and say enough is unheard of, for a woman without power in a masculine dominated environment to do it just adds to the value she gives to this world.
I remain in awe of this woman.
My role in the Solomon’s was working in the olympic sport sector. I was mainly working with their top tier athletes to implement something where they could put their voices together, understand what the collective voice was saying and then represent this to the Solomon Island’s Olympic Committee, which is where I ended up doing most of my work, where I ended up working with Lisa.
It was really fitting actually as the primary outcome of my role was working with women, encouraging them to bring out their voice, share their stories, be the leadership the female athletes needed. It was a blessing to be able to do this work.
Solomon people are short, really short, I am not. I towered above everyone and where I can I walk everywhere, it keeps me fit and helps me to get to know the community I am in. My walk to work each day was about four kilometres. I went down a big hill, the bottom three or four hundred metres was the first local community/village before the main street. Every kid, every day for over six months in both directions would run up to me and stare, walk with their neck stretched up and just stare. I was a superstar just for being tall, it was a heap of fun. Eventually we all became friendly and it became even more fun, especially once they realised I knew how to speak the language, was great at sports and was working with their national soccer team.
Superstar is barely the word.
Then it all got very real and very dangerous. It got this way very quickly, there was little to no notice.
The notice came about a week beforen the meeting. The meeting that the IOC big wigs, several of them, were travelling to Honiara for two nights only, night one every representative of all the olympic sports in the Solomon’s was to attend, every one. It was non-negotiable, sport in this place was about to get a very big kick in the arse.
I had only heard stories from the sporting sector to this point, one I will share because it is the catalyst for this meeting. But other stories of corruption and abusing power in every volunteer role and organisation in the country. I knew the moment I heard these stories the sporting industry would be equally, if not more affected by corruption, it is a common theme for sport around the world.
Early meetings with people before I heard these stories made it clear that things were going to be difficult, change was not on the agenda of anybody. Even the people who emplyed me in the first place to bring change to the environment did not want it.
Everyone knew that a shit storm was coming, everybody was nervous, everybody started to behave.
The SOIC (Solomon Island Olympic Committee) did not want me in this meeting, they wanted nobody from outside the country involved. I had only had a couple of interactions with Lisa by this time and she basically demanded that I be in the room, she stood up to men that are not used to being stood up to and told them I will be there. They agreed, nervously, and said they would allow me to sit at the corner of the table and watch, I was not allowed to speak. I didn’t, I listened.
But then I spoke. After the meeting the chairman, the biggest wig that came walked directly up to me when everybody was standing huddled outside, every single person saw it, people watched, this was not what they wanted. He just asked my role, we had a brief chat about my background and what we were trying to achieve. I kept it simple, I’m working with the athletes so they build their skills to use their voice to represent themselves.
The chairman then asked me indirectly if I understood the messaging in the meeting. I made it clear that I did, I made it clear that the messaging said if you people continue to abuse the reources that are provided to you, resources that support a majority of sport in this country, one of the only outlets your young people have, we ware going to take it away. Not only are we going to take it away we are going to strip you of your Olynpic status.
The stripping of the Olympic status not only means the stripping of all funds and professional development support received for this Olympic cycle it continues and continues until the country can prove it can sustainably meet the criteria again. The process can take decades. Olympic funding is the primary source, or was the primary source of preventative health funding in the Solomon’s and it was all for sport, it was more than necessary, it was absolutely vital it be maintained.
Lisa knew this, her brain ticking over after could be seen all over her face, she was worried, really really worried.
The meeting came about as the Mini Pacific Games were coming up in about seven weeks, they were being held in Vanuatu. It is basically the Pacific’s version of the Commonwealth Games, one of the two. The SOIC had made no progress in submitting a team or completing the necessary administrative processes to confirm anything, attendance even.
Alarm bells clearly rang, the lack of activity was clearly a repetition of the past, a past which the IOC came to the country to put an end to. They didn’t realise what they were asking of us, me and Lisa in particular, but they did at the same time. Without knowing it thety just hired the two best possible people for the job, what job?
The job to change generations of a culture of abuse in just seven weeks.
In the past to events like these the SOIC would send a team of 250 people, it would be lucky if 100 were athletes. A majority of spots were taken by friends, staff, politicians, some blokes mate that seems to be a good guy because he drives a fancy car and therefore has money and might give me some, that sort of thing. The instructions for this time around was to reverse it and then some. 175 athletes was demanded.
It was the fight of a lifetime, it was so hard. For seven weeks me and Lisa worked 16 hour days mostly, travelled all over Honiara continuosly, had meetings with people, met with the athletes, politicians, everybody and everyone involved in this thing. We were pretty exhausted by the end.
Originally there were three of us, four, there was three throughout but the third was a support to us in a few things and wasn’t involved in the planning and administration, that was all me, Lisa and Francis. Francis!
Three weeks in it is very hard, we are telling people they are not getting what they usually do every moment of the day, people who have abused this system for decades are starting to get angry. We are literally being abused for not allowing people to abuse the system anymore, not allowing a team bloody assistant coach on the list of people who are going before athletes.
It is hard work, the next day I walk into work and Lisa is already there, Francis is not. Halo Lisa, hao nao yu? Wea nao Francis? ‘Gudfala mone Frederick, mi gut. Francis, me no save wea.’ This was the answer for over a week from everybody to everybody before Francis finally got in contact and told us all that he had gone back to his village in his home province.
Thank you buddy.
One more note, once we had everything settled and were in Vanuatu he tried to get us to sign off on him coming over to attend the games, stay in the village, eat free food and have a bloody good time. Just a brief example of the privileges which have continuously destroyed this environment for everybody.
We had enemies everywhere, the number one was the women who was the manager of the disabled sports team, the aunty of Lisa. This woman, because we would not let her take an entourage of four people, not including the two athletes, started to threaten both me and Lisa. We were threatened with promises of physical violence, verbally abused consistently, were being abused by faces I had never seen before. Lisa, no different and Lisa was her niece.
Lisa stood up at every turn, she did not back down, she did not get angry and lash out. She cried, only a few times I saw her tears but her eyes showed it. She could not hide it from me, when I looked in the mirror I saw exactly the same thing. Neither of us could understand how people could be this way when everybody, the broader everybody knew, we were doing the right thing, the only thing we could do.
Lisa has a family, a beautiful husband, and her four or so year-old daughter glows with light in everything she does, she is a reflection of the beauty in the world around her. Lisa and, I cannot remember her husband’s name, these two are the beauty. Lisa has this, she also has a 12-month scholarship that she won, no she earned, in New York coming up, she has every reason not to continue but she does. This is what courage is, she is my example that I wanted to try and emulate, phenomenal woman.
Eventually we got the job done, a day or two before the flights needed to leave, we got it all done, unbelievable. The team, we didn’t quite meet the IOC demand but they allowed leeway, we did a great job, in the end we were only able to get about 165/170 athlete’s on the flight. I am pretty sure I cried when it got signed off, I doubt I would have been the only one.
Lisa flies to Vanuatu the moment it is signed, she is the chef de mision, the most important person on the team. She attends the meetings and is the spokesperson, is responsible overall for the athletes and how the team conducts themselves. I am the team manager, I just look after the athletes and nothing else, I help where I can of course but the team being able to do my thing is my focus.
I get to the airport, there are two flights, I am on the first. I get to the airport, I give my passport, ‘ummm, Mr Frederick you are not on the flight.’ Okay, what about the second one? ‘No, not on that one either.
I start to hear murmuring, I walk around and there are a bunch of people gathered who were not on the team list. Lots of them, all these people are being passed through security. There are a bunch of us, including the team manager, 10 or 15 athletes and some other support people who are no longer on the plane.
It turns out that Lisa’s Auntie has written up an alternative itinerary and handed it to the politician who is organising the flight. The politician is also her relative and comes under her in the hierarchy of their tribe. Yeah, this stuff happens, this is I know for sure.
I make some calls and things start to change. As soon as I get word that the itinerary is being fixed, all the people from the original list will be on I move over to the people who were not on the list. I am not angry, I walk over calmy, they are waiting for me, they are all smiling like thye have won something.
I tell them without hesitating that the itinerary is being fixed for the people who need to be on the flights to be on the flights. Anybody who was not on the original itinerary who gets on the plane will not have accommodation in Vanuatu, we neither have the beds or the funds for you. If you go you are there on your own, we will do nothing for you.
They all laughed at me, sniggered, said rubbish as I walked away. They were used to this rubbish, people telling them something and then changing their minds as soon as they get pressured a little.
A group of six did not listen, the rest did, not this six however. Sadly, one of the people this woman bullied to stay and fly was an athlete who did not make the team, he wasn’t even an emergency, Matthew. He was never going to compete. It was sad, one of the best runners in the country but was out of form or coming back from an injury, whatever it was he did not qualify, he was never going to compete, the lady convinced him he would and that he would have a bed and food and everything.
We touched down in Vanuatu and they found out I was not joking or messing around. I did not budge, they screamed and yelled, had their friends scream and yell, made an almighty embarrassing scene at the airport. Busy busy airport, Solomon Island flags everywher, big convoy, photos being taken, and this mess is turning this into a facade because whe isn’t being allowed to abuse a system which is there to support her fellow countrymen. Disgusting display.
The first death threat came here, it was not directed to me, it was directed to Lisa, it came out of the mouth of her Aunty. She then turned to me, looked me in the eye, and spat the exact same line.
We left, sheltered the athletes as much as possible. The next two weeks were hectic, awesome hectic. I attended the opening and closing ceremony, for hours and hours watched country after country perform dances and sing, have a ridiculously awesome time and they hadn’t even entered the stadium, this was all happening in the queue waiting for each team to be announced. Standing there within the athletes, then looking around from the middle of a stadium, on the grass, at an event like this. What an experience!
I attended every sport, watched every athlete, I was a big part of this team. The athlete’s questioned me one day about Matthew, as a collective, every single one of them together questioned me publicly about Matthew in a meeting. They were upset, the top female runner was very upset, it was a really tough thing for me and Lisa. It was the only option though, I told them why, they already knew what happened at the airports, they knew that what we were doing these games was important, they just didn’t understand why their mate had to be collateral damage.
He was collateral damage, not our fault but our fault too. When we have to make a stand we make a stand, our heart strings were pulled in every direction, I could see the pain in Lisa’s face every time she said no to him but doing the right thing was the only thing that meant anything. We needed to make a change, not jsut because we were asked to help, because change was needed.
I explained this as best I could in about thirty seconds, I must have done alright because we all got on with our business and it wasn’t brought up again. I don’t remember Matthew himself asking after that. We helped him out of course, gave food vouchers and as much as we could but we did not bend on letting him into the village.
If I had a regret it would be Matthew, if we did let him stay the regret would have been significantly larger.
About 11 days in, the same female runner, came and sat down with me, just the two of us. Culturally Solomon’s people find it hard to maintain eye contact, this lady was an extension, never ever did, extermely shy, extremely strong leadership skills, the primary athlete I was working with prior to the IOC getting their knickers in a twist.
Sharon, that’s her name, sat down next to me and took a little while to start talking. I knew she had something to say so I just waited, there were tears in her eyes. ‘Frederick, I really want to say thank you for this, everything here. Never in any of our life times did we think we would be able to come to an event and enjoy ourself, have fun, focus on sport. It has always been drama, this is beautiful, thank you.’ She stood up and left.
Two weightlifter’s, the two top athlete’s, both women asked me and Lisa to dinner the night before they flew out. In fact, the year after these games, or a few years later, one of these two won the country’s first ever Commonwealth Games Medal. Weightlifters, it was amazing to watch the weightlifting team, it is the only place in the Olympic scene at the time where they were competitive and they were more than competitive.
The whole weightlifting at the games was a highlight actually, there were multiple world class athletes in attendance including olympic medallists.
During the dinner both of the ladies spent a good portion of it crying, trying to talk and say thank you but just crying, the message was the same as I received from Sharon.
Lisa and I did nothing but what was right, and this is the outcome. I do not know what has happened since then but I know we made a difference. I did bugger all in this except support the most phenomenal of phenomenal people while she did her thing, watching it was one of the most improtant highlights of my life.
A few days before flying home the final threats came, this time with clear instructions that we would be met at the airport when we returned home, we would not see another sunrise. Lisa and I talked about it, do we involve the police and all that. She said no, whatever happens will happen, I will not let her make me afraid. So we didn’t do a thing, we cleared customs and walked out, straight to our waiting cars.
Nobody was waiting for us, we called this woman’s rubbish every step of the way, we showed her what courage is, we showed her she is not it. Well, Lisa did anyway, I just rode the wave, it was awesome.
Actually, one person was waiting for us, but she wasn’t waiting for us at all, she was just waiting. I cried, I could not stop myself, I still find it hard to stop myself.
Remember how I mentioned the woman making the treats was the manager of the disabled team? Well this woman waiting was one of the athletes, intellectual disability, it is dark, 10pm maybe. Honiara near the airport at night is not a a place for a lone woman with a bag full of shit and has learning difficulties.
I asked, ‘are you okay? Where is your team, the support people?’ They all left. ‘They all left? How are you getting home?’ I don’t know.
I don’t know. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW. It almost flooded out of me on the spot, this terrible terrible woman not only threatens her niece’s life but then leaves the most vulnerable athlete on the team in the most vulnerable position imaginable. It was easy to justify every single one of my actions along the way after this.
We, Sarah (my ex-wife) and I took her home, just to make sure you know she stayed safe.
Pretty sure Lisa offered first, we said we had this one, have a rest.
Lisa, this woman, she should be flooding the television, magazines, every single thing that influences anybody. She should be the role model for our children, what a different world we would live in.
Instead we only have dim wits and dumb shits. Swift’s, Cyrus’s, Bieber’s and many more.
There is an important detail omitted. Lisa did not want to do this, she did not want to be the Chef de MIssion (CdM). Lisa had an involvement in basketball but was focusing on other things, she wanted to represent women in politics or the publlic service, she wanted to represent integrity, being involved in sport outside basketball was not an interest.
One of the IOC’s conditions was the she be the CdM, they would not accept any other nomination. Lisa accepted or the Solomon Island’s IOC future is in doubt. She had a choice but an extremely tough one, she did not need to put herself through what she did, nobody else could have done the job she did.
Perfect for the job, perfect to lead in the top job over there I would confidently proclaim.
Eyebrow
Solomon Islands was the very best of the best times. My marriage did not survive it but that was only a slight inconvenience in an otherwise extraordinary seven/eight months. We gave the relationship one more go in Darwin.
I cut the time working in the Solomon’s short post Vanuata. When I got home, S.I. home, I told the Australian Volunteers for International Development (AViD) that I would like to stay in country for another five weeks, continue to get paid and go on a holiday for a month or so.
AViD knew the story behind the request and off ya go Freddy was the response, have a bloody good time mate. I bloody well did.
Most was annual leave anyway, wasn’t much of a stretch.
Here, we start to explore the patriarchal and tribal systems. The examples will show you the harm in abusing the system and the beauty when it works for the people, the occasional times it works for the people. Currently abuse of power is the primary symptom of the system.
Before we start on all that rubbish however, I absolutely love the way Pacific Islanders, pretty much all of them, greet one another, say yes, agree. I continue to do it, women, men, kids, everyone, I started doing it one day and it stuck. When it started to leave my life I brought it back.
Did it to a beautiful young lady today who was ogling me from her car, was hoping she would stop the ogle and pull over. She didn’t.
You walk past an Islander and all they do is lift their eyebrows, both of them, no words. Ask a question that the answer is a simple yes to, up go the eyebrows. In agreement, yep, to the sky the eyebrows fly.
There is no eye in the action with the exception of looking the person you are talking to in the eye. Your eyes meet in the Pacific nations, no matter who they meet with, and their brow raises, you really should raise yours back. If you’re not comfortable to do it or coordinated enough give them a thumbs up instead, at worst smile and say g’day. The worst is equal with the best in this scenario, no stress sunshine.
I only have one eyebrow when I do not maintain it, even then it is big. When my brow and the sky meet it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. I wish I had a photo of my Grandfather so you could see what I would be in for if I didn’t maintain it, keep it to two. Umbrella, a big umbrella, is a good comparison.
When I started to do it everyone loved it, loved it all the way through but when I started, this big arse bushy brow learning to naturally go high without including the white man’s eye.
You will be white in the Solomon Islands, even if you are black most likely, this white man is all about skin tone. I am darker than maybe 0.001% of Solomon people, yeah, fucking black mate.
I got it right though and reduced the words I needed to say by about 75%, it was great. I didn’t have to say hello again, how are you, what’s going on, let’s be friends. Nope, this one gesture says it all, it says I am white bloke in your country doing my best to live like you do, I’m giving it a red hot crack.
There will be themes here repeating heavily with the First Nations conversation. Exactly the same outcomes intended, simply different stories telling the same tale. It’s fun, let’s give it a whirl together.
For example, the first similarity, try to fit in when working in other countries, especially volunteering. Live as the community you work for lives to the best of your comfort.
You do not need to live in a shack, shed, tent, under a tree. But you can. You can live comfortably within your walls, as comfortably as you want, separate you from the people you work with completely. Who cares what you do in private. Remember not to take the privilege aspects of private public and you’ll be fine, fit in, have a great bloody time.
Just like I did good buddies, death threats and everything.
Mount Popomanaseu and the white ghosts.
There are white ghosts in the jungles of the Solomon Islands, there are other fables which we will get to but this one is a confirmed sighting, five confirmed sitings actually.
Me and my four mates are the confirmed sitings. The first white people to mount this fucking bitch in 35 or more years, possibly still the last to do it. Mount which bitch? The Solomon Islands that’s who, this bitch, we mounted her good, but only after she mounted us, or me and Marcus, better.
Mount Popomanaseu is the highest peak in the South Pacific with the exception of New Guinea and its related islands. It is a mountain within a mountain to climb. The actual climbing part is as difficult as any other mountain that has not been climbed for 35 years I imagine, extremely difficult. Just getting to the starting point might as well have been stepping foot on the peaks of the Annapurnas, passing the first gate, Everest.
We will get back to all of this, it’s how I get you to understand the patriarchal and tribal systems, how harmful they are but in an awesome way, with a ridiculous tale.
Only one part I want to talk about now. Day one of our walk, getting close to sunset, we stop on the outskirts of a little village, there are three shacks. One is empty with the exception of a few mattresses, enough for one each and more, they are not there for us but they are too.
We are asked to wait while our guide Stanley and one of the guys from the village walk on ahead, they need to get permission from the main village for us to come further in, enter the village and stay the night.
We have already walked 10 hours.
Stanley and his mate return after about three hours and we are given the thumbs up. We move on, the main village is another hour, maybe hour and half walk. There are no roads, only footpaths.
To get to the village, on top of the 12 hours walking, we drove an hour from Honiara, took a right and drove for about two hours from the starting point, we are a long way from help.
We did not need help but the distance, the 12 hours total walking for five very fit people doing this for fun, and the drive in, how crazily isolated this village is I would like you to remember for a later time.
Six of us left the first camp, 12 entered the village. People are fascinated by white people doing white people things, you’ll attract a crowd no matter where you go but in a place like this, well, let me continue.
We reach the main square and all of a sudden 30 children from the ages of about seven and down start bawling their eyes out. Kids were running, hiding under their mothers skirts, jumping straight into the bush, looking for anything at all they could use a duck hide. There were chants and prayers. screaming, howling, begging for us to leave. It was phenomenal, absolutely phenomenal the reaction, we were not heroes.
It took the village a good 30 minutes to settle down. All the kids had to come to understand that five ghosts didn’t just enter their homes, we are people just like them, our skin is just a different colour.
The kids came up and started playing with us, not straight away, took a while. Staring to start with, idling a little closer, one getting up the courage to touch, next they all got involved. We were okay now.
We are so far away from any form of civilisation, shop, hospital, technology, everything we take for granted. These young children, some of them seven, even older, 10 or 11, had never seen a white person before. Did not know they existed.
There is nothing in the scope of a human being to understand this experience unless you have experienced it. We had no idea where we were going, what villages we would come across, who we would encounter. Every step of Mount Popomanaseu was an adventure in itself. Getting to the start of it, as I mentioned, everest.
We mounted the bitch anyway.
Stanley
Stanley, our guide and friend, never made it to the top of Mount P, nor the bottom. Stanley was not allowed to continue further beyond the village. Therefore, we cannot be 100% sure we mounted this bitch, only pretty bloody sure, but not confirmed.
For three months Stanley worked his backside off to get us up that hill, he worked his backside off to get to the village with us, he sat on his backside the following 48 hours. He was heartbroken, he wanted us to continue, encouraged us, we did.
There were three villages Stanley needed to negotiate to get us onto the track, the first step beyond the gate. Constantly he was going back and forward between Honiara and the villages, on the phone, organising, organising, organising.
We are all sitting together about six weeks into the process having dinner, Me, Stanley, Marcus, Ludo and two others, an Australian and a French lady. Final two names escape me at the moment. Stanley trying to explain to us the process of getting all three villages to let us through on the same day, making sure the right people are manning the checkpoints, the right person waiting at the starting point.
Actually no, Aussie lady wasn’t there yet. She came a few days before we started the hike, friend of the other guys from before my time.
It is terribly confusing, there are five really smart people listening to this story shaking their heads, looking at one another, WTF. To Stanley it is kindergarten speak, rolling off the tongue like he has to deal with this type of politics before breakfast. Sadly, he does.
Before I continue, we were not abusing Stanley or asking him to put the effort in he did. It was his job, a hiking guide, he did his best because it meant the world to him. He also did his best many other times, working with the authorities to rescue stranded people from a very big jungle, beautiful man.
Stanley’s wife died a year or two before I met him, he is left raising a child on his own in a country that has no social welfare system. The following detail I am sure is true, but not 100% confident.
Generally when S.I. people get married the woman will move in with the man’s family, the family in return will send gifts as compensation for the hands that have been lost. The compensation is both a thank you for your beautiful daughter and we are sorry that it will cost you the labour.
Everyone in the villages work together to look after the village. The little fishing villages are completely sustainable, it works because everyone works as one. When a tribe loses a paior of hands, adult hands, to marriage or to their young people going to the city it creates extra work for the remaining village members. The work gets a little harder. This part is 100% accurate.
This part, not 100% sure, Stanley went the other way, moved to the wife’s family near Honiara, there are much better financial opportunities there. Some time had gone by since she died and the surrounding properties started to put pressure on Stanley, this house was their families, Stanley’s wife was not there anymore, it should return. Son and all, didn’t matter.
Stanley was somewhat ostracised because of this, one villager made it hard to get the permission he required to walk from the house to the road. Stanley no longer had access to the greater village, he had to fend for himself and his child. Every day he went through this rubbish.
He had experience, this was child’s play to him, to us it was quantum physics 35 years from now.
It was child’s play until it wasn’t, shit got pretty bad, the moment we stepped away from our guide and trusted friend was the dumbest of dumb shit. Nothing happened to us but the stories from this area of the Solomon Islands are horrendous, it’s a great place to hide bodies, absolutely no chance they will be found. White people are the prime targets.
Driving in, village one responsible and white people responsible. White people reponsible for abusing village people’s lack of education is much much more accurate. Sound familiar Aussies? A phenomenally beautiful lake which was once a pinnacle of the people’s lives can never be touched by human hands again, let alone swim in it. The gold mine seaped all their rubbish in it, made it permanently toxic as fuck, never cleaned it up like they were supposed to.
This didn’t matter now though, all that mattered was money, this village was pure greed. If Stanley didn’t talk to the head honcho amongst everybody saying they were the head honcho we weren’t getting through without handing out more cash than we were willing to. Yeah, we had to buy our way through and not in the $20 entry fee type of way.
AViD were cautious about my request, understandably so. I told them the truth, experienced hikers, fit, great trustworthy guide. Omitted the part about going for a walk on my sister’s five acre property one day with the dogs, getting more lost than the TV show and walking back through the door four hours later.
So, good buddies we are making our way there, getting dark, need to read and make sure it is readable before I lose the light.
Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite. Yep, said regularly to us when we were kids, happens.
Let’s see
Quito, did not give too much attention to the altitude, figured it will be right, no issue in the Annapurna’s until high camp 4400 metres or so. Have the headache though, the altitude one, it started like it is now at high camp. Not too bad, tomorrow I’ll wake up and feel better, two days seems to do the trick at this stage, two days waiting. If not, moving on tomorrow to lower altitude. The moment you starting dropping in altitude the better we start to feel.
The point of Manang, wait here until the little headache you have goes away, do little walks without the pack daily, bring yourself higher slowly. The headache was pretty yucky by the time I hit the pass, 800metres more, have the headache in Manang and one has 2700 metres to go, shit can get really bad. Altitude sickness is real, there are awful stories from an accident perspective, awful stories from a mental perspective, people wigging out stupidly.
There is a video on YouTube taken live that shows what I am talking about, it’s a gentle version of altitude sickness starting affect people’s minds. Patience is really important when hiking mountains.
Patience was also important in the water prior to the sharks, they were simply the main event all though I am not sure that is true either. There were three main events. Dessert Dessert Dessert. You would think three desserts in a row is too much dessert, but, not all the time. The island of Rendova.
Sarah, the guide and myself hop in the water and swim a little out to sea. Okay sign, we start to descend, slowly slowly.
If you haven’t experienced altitude sickness but know the little headache that comes sometimes when diving deep or scuba diving, they are very similar.
Stop and wait at about five metres, the sea bed another five metres below. Guide instructs us all to breathe together, really really calmy, slow the heartbeat all the way down, relax.
BOOM!
Heartbeat fires. Guide brings us back to calm.
BOOM!.
Smiles, fucking god-damn it was amazing.
BOOM!
Tears almost came to my eyes.
BOOM!
30, maybe 40 kilometres away a small volcano is continuously errupting.
BOOM!
The feeling through the body, the sound through the ears, there is nothing I know like it from a pure physical experience. God, it was beautiful.
It’s how I also know the stuff regarding intergenerational trauma with my Brothers and Sisters from Australia. I felt her, every bit of her, that volcano. Her power, love, feel, expression of pure freedom, she was not restricted. My mother, I know she was, I know I felt her like this. I know I could see shadows through the tissue, as I can see shadows through murky water. It all makes sense, too much sense to not take any blame for what I am doing now.
Show two. the sharks.
Number three, the most phenomenal coral garden, anything garden, that has ever passed through my eyes, one of the last places they grow like this. This phenomenally beautifully colourfully in ways I never thought possibel living being. That’s what she is, coral, a living being.
Colour shows health, it shows life, it shows the being has what it needs to thrive. Grey, white, no colour, means it is dead, just dead. The Great Barrier Reef for example, oh boy oh boy oh boy, how does it not break your heart as it does mine what is happening to her?
Your’s Solomons, golly gosh, never seen anything like it, it is already showing signs of fatigue. Let’s not let it go too.
Scuba diving in the Solomon Islands, god people, some say it is the best in the world, I do not care to bother trying. I don’t give a shot if there is better out there than the above experience, I am bloody content with it. To me the Solomon Islands is the very best place in the world to Scuba.
There is plane crashes, little ships, massive ships, coral farms, massive rocks to explore and the water is clear than fuck, ridiculous is not the words for this place under the water. Some things cannot be unexperienced.
Nor can some of the things that happen above ground be unexperienced.
Stanley’s number two village was an easy task. They provided guide number one, obviously means good money. Ended up two guides in the end, and of course both needed to be paid the same. Worth it absolutely, family in both villages, really made day one of the journey super duper easy. The walk ridiculously beautiful, no point even talking about it.
Unless it is in a different way, these women, oh my goodness, mainly women, sometimes pregnant women. Talk about strong human beings. Their child is sick, you obviously know what they do? Put them on their shoulder, walk for god knows how long to get to the dirtroad, another two hours driving worth of walking to the road and then, if they have money, can get a bus into the hospital. Holy guacamole.
There is a bus that does the runs I am pretty sure for medical purposes but it is only twice a day, in and the out.
The very end of the walk, we had a car waiting for us. We were not allowed to leave, the keys needed to be handed over to three cars of men who had pulled Stanley and our two original guides aside on the return.
Stanley was worried, had not seen him like this, came over and updated us once and twice. These guys say they are the chief’s of the villages and we didn’t get permission. Trying to explain we did and who we talked to but each one of them is saying they are the boss.
‘Stanley, we are not paying more money’, stated Marcus.
Yes, I have told them, continue to tell them. We need to be patient.
The men were serious, really serious, it was not a great position to be in.
An hour or so later the driver’s keys are thrown to him and Stanley is ushering us from behind his back to sit in, we do. Stanley walks over calmy and gets in the back tray with me and Marcus, takes a deep breath and knocks on the roof, we are out of there.
Two of the vehicles didn’t move, the other did. Followed us all the way to Honiara, waited for an hour where we palked to make sure we weren’t handing anything to Stanley without giving him too. It was really disgusting, really dangerous, awful.
Finally he left, and we were definitely will to shell out a heap more cash, just in a different direction. The bloody honest, integrity, full of love version.
This shit, this patriarchal tribal shit is awful when money comes into it, just terrible and it is a reflection of almost every position of power in the Solomons, right up to the top. The country has so much potential but has so little guidance, so little integrity, so little care for human beings within its own walls.
The villages, beautiful villages that are benefitted highly by tourism but do not rely on it, maintain their practices show how the system works absolutely beautifully. The town all looks after and supports each other, they support the tourists, fix things within their walls.
A young fella stole my mask and snorkel, Sarah and I knew who it was. Did not care, but also it was an inconvenience. Wasn’t 100% sure either, it was the boys activity watching us that was suspicious, bit more than general white person curiosity. I mentioned to our host I had lost it and if there was somewhere it may show up.
We were about to leave and there wasn’t time to get it back unless she acted now, she mentioned it was likely the boy, had seen him too. We said no, it does not matter, keep it when it shows up, use it in the village. We didn’t ask them to pursue because how beautifully the village was functional made it clear they addressed matters like this, petty thieving and silly issues adding up puts stress where stress is not required.
They wouldn’t have been hard on him, possession and ownership is not the same concept as it is to us, there is none. None of my partner, or towards my children, we are all individuals working together as one big team. The words to call the team come after the making it work part. Most likely reminders of trust within the community, boundaries and looking after our guests (customers), the money they provide makes our work even easier, allows the purchase of tools, more.
Really, villages in these communities are so beautiful, but, they can be completely terrible too.
Not sure what the solution is, or maybe we do, let’s see.
It does not matter
The start was equally difficult as the end, was mind-boggling really. Village one, the village Stanley did most of the negotiating with were the first problem and then some.
Old mate manning the gate would not let us in. Stanley took him through the whole scenario. Nobody told me, what you got for me? More or less anyway, nothing bud was the answer.
We had Simon with us, stupidly smart, a lawyer, spoke the languages needed. An hour of negotiation without handing over shit and we are finally through.
The walk itself uneventful, down ridiculous steepness, cross a gushing river, scramble up a huge wall, walk through sapling forests, thick forests, from fucking hot to stupidly cold, sleep the night, walk another few kilometres into a cloud forest and Bob is your Uncle, Mt P mounted.
All of the above, clearly, stupidly beautiful, no point going into it. Ridiculously hard, well harder than it needed to be. I mentioned it almost mounted me and Marcus first so I better expand a little.
For some reason of pure stupidity I decided not to take the hammock with me to the Solomons. No real idea why, Sarah and I wanted to do stuff together, maybe that was it, but still stupid. Literally we took everything with us but the kitchen sink, considered the kitchen sink, we read way too much before going. Had everything we needed at least, bar, of course, the hammock.
It’s all I did too, this walk, that one, hike here, there and every-bloody-where. Regretted not taking it within days. Six hours into the big climb day really regretted it. Took a makeshift camp instead, a blanket for one part, a blanket which filled up with sweat and kept filling up with it. My pack was very very heavy, I was very very exhausted. Almost gave up, almost.
Looked in the pack, took out the bedding and yep, I can give it another shot. 10 kilograms extra at least the blanket took on over the course of the morning. Hard hard work.
I am sitting there just exhausted and Marcus is also sitting there equally exhausted, don’t know if I can continue Fred. ‘Me neither mate.’ We took some time, relaxed, ate food, drank water, let ourselves settle, took a few steps, a few more steps and then every step needed. So, nothing outlandish from this part, just exhaustion, it happens, prepare better and it makes shit easier. My only real mistake, poor prep.
That, and, of course, leaving without our guide. The third village flat out refused to let Stanley come up, he has done it before but they flat out refused, would not budge. It is this reason we do not know if we went to Mt. P or another Mt. It does not matter, it was a great tale to tell a story that needed to be told.