The crucial but hard-learned importance of walking slowly in the Solomons…

As the name may suggest to those Spanish speakers among you, it is hot in the Solomons. Blazingly, wiltingly, drenchingly hot. Not as humidly suffocating as the Paraguayan summer, the sun not as piercingly bright and relentless as in Jordan, but nonetheless a heat as intense as any I can remember experiencing. At midday, whether on the beach, out in the dusty streets, or most of all when aboard a little boat out in the endless expanse of dazzling sea, the light of the huge Pacific sky above seems to take malicious pleasure in directing its rays at you from all angles.

Midday, unfortunately, is exactly the time when my belly starts rumbling and I head out for my daily fish and chips, fish curry, fish stir-fry or the delicious raw fish of the Fijian kokoda. Only mad dogs and Englishman… the saying goes. Well, that does not apply in these parts, for at lunchtime the streets are as crowded as at any other time. More true, perhaps, is that only mad dogs and Englishman would attempt to flee something as inevitable as the sunshine. In my early and naïve days I was like a panicking Spanish ant desperately trying to escape little Juan and his magnifying glass. I would step out into the battering ram of heat and, immediately overwhelmed, put my head down and hurry off, accelerating my pace increasingly as I got more and more befuddled. Big mistake. Within 50 metres your face turns bright red, you break into a sweat and by the time you reach your destination your back and your shirt have become inseparable.

Over the course of my first few weeks I soon learnt the error of my ways. It is a steep, and sweaty, learning curve, but over time my technique has become increasingly refined, modelled on the languid ambling masters all around me. Walking slowly, of course, is essential, but is not enough in itself. I have realised that the trick is to focus your mind on using as few muscles as possible. With your head up, leaning back ever so slightly, you lift your legs as if strings are attached to your knees while your arms naturally swing in slow wide arcs by your side. A bit like swaying to a reggae beat. The rest of your body meanwhile should stay as relaxed as possible, in particular the mind, for which wearing sunglasses is essential. And that, basically, is that. In this way you can saunter the streets, somehow staying cool(ish) despite the heat pressing from all sides, protected by the cucumber cool mental barrier you erect around you.

I always think of Edinburgh when walking in this way. Heading to uni during winter, an icy wind sweeping across the meadows, the exact opposite applied. On the criss-crossing diagonals you join the lines of students trudging purposefully in both directions, barely speaking, heads down, hoods up, reluctant to look up even to appreciate the beautiful and imposing bulk of Arthur’s Seat, in the knowledge that you are liable to get a blast of cold air down the neck. In this environment, I remember a friend wisely noting on one particularly wet and cold afternoon, as you brace every sinew to keep warm and get out of the cold the toe muscles in particular can provide an extra few inches to each step.

Other news this week:

• As you no doubt saw on the front page of The Guardian, the winner of Solomon Islands Pop Idol 2006 was….. Mark Vision! I was there of course, die-hard Pop Idol fan that I am (along with half of Honiara, many of whom couldn't afford the 70p to get in so watched through the walls, see photo below). And even though he just pipped my own favourite, a certain Faye Indu, to first spot, it was hard to begrudge him his moment of glory. Though a young and relatively simply dressed chap he was clearly the crowd’s favourite, partly for his deep crooning voice and partly for his eyes screwed shut, slightly hunched-over posture as he went full whack at “sending prayers to the lord”, clicking his fingers all the way. I happened to be sitting next to one of his wantak, and when he did his final song I could barely hear a word for the barrage of whistles, whoops of excitement and crys of “Mark Vision, Mark Vision” about a foot from my earhole.

• I am now the proud owner of 136 (perhaps!) ripe bananas after a huge bunch ripened on one of my trees. Averaging only two per day myself, I’m not quite sure what to do with them, aside from gaze at them fondly nestled in the corner of my kitchen. I’ve already given several bunches to neighbours and colleagues, though the geckos also seem to have taken a liking to the mushy ones at the bottom. Other fruit with which my little Eden has stocked my fridge this week include 10 guavas (at the price of getting attacked by the huge red ants that seem to think the tree is theirs), one large papaya and several bunches of little red chilli peppers.
  

• I’m heading off for Christmas in the West(ern Province) from next Saturday, so won’t be writing for a little while, but I’m returning on New Years eve to see what the bright lights of Honiara have to offer. In case I don’t get a chance to write before I leave, Merry Christmas to all of you, wherever you may be. In particular, a big surreal Season’s Greetings to those among you who, like me, will be spending Christmas away from family in a hot climate and will be barbequing their Christmas grub (South Pacific, Middle-East, Africa and South America). And please remember, as I’m frequently reminded by circulars on the work intranet, it is important at this time of year not to forget the real reason for Christmas. Which in the eyes of a heathen like me is of course… eat like a pigpig and get spaka. All love. xx