IV. The Slow Sands of the Solomons

When I first touched down at the Honiara international airport, two things hit me. The first was the heat. Sydney had been quite chilly when I left for my 7 AM flight, so I was in a long sleeve shirt and Khakis… huge mistake. I soon found out that it really would not have mattered what I was wearing, as even at night, in a tank top and shorts, I am still sweating heaps (forgive me, I was with the Australians for a week, and now I work with one). The second was how small the airport was: there was a single house shaped building that had a passenger intake and outtake. After a long wait at customs in the airport under a struggling ceiling fan(there was only one desk to check the one flight in today), I finally made it through the least strenuous customs ever. After I had travelled maybe 100 yards from the plane, I was met by Archbishop Chris and Max, one of the station boys at the church. Bishop welcomed me with a lei and a handshake, and we hopped in the church truck.

As Bishop gave me the low down of Honiara and its main street, he seemed to wave at every single person we passed. The man is a true shepherd of his people. He had me shake hands with dozens of people, and I am not the best with names, but I did my best to remember. Poor Everesto has to reintroduce himself to me every time I see him (Me: “Watna name blo iu?” Everesto: “Mount Everest… you know, the mountain!”).

That night, I met Sebastian and Jeffrey, and they tried to teach me some more pijin. At first, I was doing well, but then my answer for “Iu how?” changed from “Gud!” to “Mi tired.” Haha, at some point, I remember Jeffrey asking me a question, and I looked at him blankly, and then he looked at Seba, raised his brow, and said “Go to bed!” And so I went to bed at 8:30 PM.

School dei blo mi fest wan:

Tuesday was my first taste of teaching a the Epalle school, which started at 6 AM with the Angelus bell, and a mad dash out the door of the house and down to the Holy Cross Cathedral for morning mass. Seba, now a good friend of mine—and very much my guardian angel—, led the dash down to mass under the pre-dawn sky. The mass and the Cathedral are After mass, a few of the Epalle students and friends of Bishop gathered on his porch at the “table of life” for breakfast, before Seba, Bryan (nephew of Bishop Chris), and I headed for the buses to school. Once at school, Seba brought me around to to all of the classes to introduce me, and this was my first real interaction with the students I will be working with. As the day progressed, I got to hang out mostly with the teachers at the Epalle school, before walking home with Seba and David Junior. Just like Bishop, they too seemed to know just about everyone they passed.

Everyone here smiles and waves at everyone else. Everyone. And I love it! Most are also very quick to laugh, and they are incredibly patient with one another. There is one main street that all of the commuters use, and there is always a traffic jam during peak hours, but no one honks or yells, nurturing an unsettling silence for a Bostonian or a New Yorker.

When we made it back to the house, I met a young man named Philip, who works in the Parish community, and we ‘storied’ for a good bit. At one point, he asked me if I liked to travel, and I told him yes, because I see traveling as an opportunity to learn. He then launched into a very beautiful reflection on the importance of learning, especially from other cultures, because we all seem to own a small, yet special, perspective on how the world should work. Every culture has its strengths and its weaknesses, and this is something that definitely jives with my experiences of traveling in years past.

A strength of the Solomons is their ability to be present.

As I have noticed the past few days, Solomon time is a funny thing. Time moves so slow, but in a good way. In my head, I have been here for a year. The friends I have made, I have known them forever. This, my friends, is the power of pure presence. Because I am not constantly looking at a clock of any form, I have no judgement as to the passage of time. But, this also allows me to fully experience every waking moment in this very purposeful culture. The Solomon Islanders are patient, often sitting with me through long periods of silence in conversations, as if just sitting with me will bring us closer. It does.

By sitting with me, no words are spoken, but thoughts are exchanged. When someone sits with you, and really acknowledges your presence, you can feel the warmth of acceptance and joy, which is all that most people strive to feel.

Though a patient people, they find a way to make every moment count. Complete presence translates to opportunities to do more of the little things in life, on top of the big. There is no “multi-tasking.”

In a few spare moments that I have had, I thought that it would be beneficial to read over and reflect deeper on my proposal letters after my first few days in Honiara, seeing what I was right about, and what I was hoping to experience. A few passages that I wrote stuck out, in light of these past few days—and their lessons.

From my initial proposal:

(A personal reflection on presence inspired by the work Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young) “… being present in thought is extremely important, as often we are too quick to look to the future and leave God in the present. We either envision failure, forgetting God, or we become the god of our own dreams.” We are where God wants us to be, with who God wants us to be with. Trust in Him.

From my final proposal:

“Be present. Be flexible. Be open… The importance of presence, flexibility, and openness transcends the task of engaging in service in the Solomons. Rather, the importance of these states of being lies in engaging with the Solomon Islands itself: its culture, its faith, its people. Though it counts for over 65% of their GDP, Rough Wood is not the Solomon’s prime resource. ‘The greatest resource in the Solomon Islands are [sic] its people,” reads an article provided by Sr. Rose Mary.” Presence is what the Solomon Islanders are the best at, and I have found this incredibly true.

“The best way for me to evangelize in the Solomons would be no different than evangelizing in Friartown, where I can make my mark by living the good news, or, by St. Francis Assisi’s quote, ‘preaching the Gospel, using words when necessary.’ [The best way] is by living as a neighbor to my brothers and sisters, displaying presence and proximity, as I grow in appreciation for God’s providence.” It is through keeping my mind on the present time that I can be present to my new friends in the Solomons, and through this mutual presence, we can properly learn from and push one another to grow towards a more ideal word perspective.

It would seem that the Solomon Islanders are starting to teach me to read what was written, both in my proposals and across my heart.