In three days time I leave the Solomon Islands for the first time since my arrival here, and head down to Sydney to meet my folks and younger sis (sorry Iso that you can’t get out of helping sick people and come too). Aside from how nice it will be to be reunited with my true and original wantok, there is also something very appealing about the prospect of a couple of weeks of hot water, nice restaurants and the buzz of wandering an international and ‘rich-country’ city.It is hard to believe that it is now almost nine months since I stepped off the plane into the muggy heat of what is now my home. For all those considering making a pikinini of your own, I can assure you that 9 months is a cinch – it has absolutely flown by. Yet reading the first couple of entries of this blog reminds me too how much has happened. The epic journey to get here, first surreal days and first ventures beyond the Honiara boundaries all now seem like they happened in another lifetime. For me, when travelling, this is a recurrent characteristic of the mysterious concept that is time. It is a seeming paradox that on closer inspection proves not to be. For in the present, on a day-to-day level, the old adage ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ kicks in and you watch with dismay as the weeks and months flash by. In retrospective, however, as a rule the more you fit in your days and weeks the longer that period in your life will seem.
It has been a while since I last wrote, which I hope will not turn out to be a long-term trend. Part of the reason is that it has been an eventful last 3 or 4 weeks. But as I run around these last few days trying to get things done at work and preparing the red carpet (or at least the mosquito coils and beds) ready for the English arrival, my mind is turning already to holidays ahead and it seems that the moment has passed for a detailed evocation of what’s been going on. For records sake, and for my own memory, it is however worth mentioning a few of the things I’ve been up to.
A few weekends ago I made a return to Savo, accompanied by my trusty translator Fiona. The motivation, apart from the refreshment of a couple of nights of traditional island life, was the village’s celebration of their patron saint St Peter, accompanied by a typical mixture of traditional dancing by men dressed as bushes and the regimented marching of the Church’s ‘Marching Band’ (I have video 
clips of these which I am yet to find time to download). The following weekend was the considerably bigger celebration of the country’s Independence (quite incredibly just 29 years - only a couple of years older than I am). These were held on Malaita, the most populated of the nation’s islands and about three hours away by express boat. Though only a small number live in the provincial capital of Auki, it seemed like half the island had turned up to join in the festivities, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in such a small town – unless you count 
people in a Glastonbury field. When night fell, with the ground everywhere wet and muddy (to a degree that would make Glasto itself proud) and with no way to get home, the wooden sidewalks were thick with families nesting down for the night and hoping to get a truck home in the morning.I’ve also been graced with the presence of two English friends, Kate and Asim, who’ve been in Honiara for the past couple of weeks and staying with me in the Mbokona Motel for half of that (we met them on Lola island at Christmas). Was a delight to have them, watch them relish the bright lights of the capital (they are teaching in a church school out in the bush in the
province of Makira), and to compare tales of life in the Solos and of bygone days in the mother country. All the best to them in their next six months in Pamua – and click here for a short video they made of the school for the Melanesian Mission's annual conference. Finally, also in the last couple of weeks, the IMF has been paying us another visit to set us on the path for a pretty major overhaul of our Monetary and Financial reporting, a project with which I have been closely involved. With meetings and workshops every day it has been hard to find time to keep correspondence with friends and family as much as I’d like (e.g. Apologies Connell for missing your birthday – I put something in the post yesterday though; Kerrie, I got your fantastic letter, a reply will happen before you can say "southseamutterings"...)With holidays coming I’m unlikely to write anything for about three weeks. But be reassured that when I return you’ll be getting the uncensored low-down of holidays witim wantok, a first taste of which I can give you with the photo below – the last time I saw my dear graduate sister Em.
Photos from top: Arriving at Auki by boat; traditional dancing and singing from Savo boys; the women's church singing group fused with traditional dancing; boys lined up for communion outside church in Savo, with the girls' lined up on the other side of them; Wantok from the hood; Emily celebrating her graduation in typical style.
