The Children and Coconuts of the Solomon Islands

Adina set sail from Vanuatu, destination the island of Nende in the Solomon Islands. The trade winds were blowing and for once blowing from the right direction for us; Adina relished it, clocking up speeds we’d never seen before. A 167nm trip, we’d planned our arrival for around 8 to 9am. Come 2am we were reducing sail as we began to apply the brakes so we would see our way through a pass in which a reef sat perilously beneath the water, slap bang in the middle of the pass.

The town of Lata is where yachts can clear customs and quarantine but immigration has to wait until further north in Honiara, the capital, a place no-one seems to speak of too highly. On the edge of Lata town is a jetty not suitable for yachts and furthermore anchoring is not recommended due to foul ground. Chris Bone who runs the Oceans Watch charity, which does much good in these islands, had given us a few tips and some useful contacts. We paraded Adina up and down past the jetty hoping customs would come out. No joy. So while Tom held the boat offshore Susie took the dinghy ashore. People couldn’t have been more helpful, carrying the dinghy up the beach and then walking Susie to the customs building the other side of town. Our lucky day, immigration were in town visiting, we could go off to anchor further south on the island and all of the officials would come together to check us in later on.

After many days of rolling at anchor in Vanuatu we found a peaceful small bay and Adina sat flat – sheer relief. It’s amazing how things can change with just a 24 hour sail. The Solomon islanders are a lot lighter in complexion than the ni-Vanuatu. Betel nut is the favoured toxin resulting in virtually all adults having red lips and stained teeth. Even the houses are built differently on stilts to improve the airflow. We admit to being a little bit more nervous in these islands as yachts have had problems with robberies but we have rigged up a new super-bright deck light and a siren that will wake up Susie’s mum back in England. Robberies are mainly petty and on the main islands which we’re planning to avoid, favouring the smaller islands.

Titus on the helm of Adina

Here on Nende the people were friendly. Chris had told us to look out for a chap called Titus who helps Oceans Watch with a lot of their work and he duly turned up bearing a welcome packet of eggplant and green chillies. Let’s just say Titus simply loves yachties and he was soon cajoling us to anchor further down by his village. We were back in the world of people happily wanting to show you around not asking for a penny unlike those capitalist ni-Vanuatu we so love.

We duly agreed to move Adina and Titus slowly but surely took over our lives, taking the helm so we could get close to the reef to try and catch fish. He was ably assisted by two Brits keeping a good look-out. He accompanied us around town introducing us to his friends, showed us his village and offered to take us spearfishing at night. All we needed to do was pay for the fuel and buy a few batteries for night torches, which in a poor country like this was the least we could do. Spearfishing being male territory, Titus’ wife Margaret kept Susie company on Adina, along with baby Phini, and Susie got to learn a lot about Solomon family life and culture.

The boys of Titus escort Tom to get fresh water

Little did we know the spearfishing is a real treat in the village and Titus becomes everyone’s best friend as many want to join the trip, so a boat holding about 10 men and boys turned up to collect Tom. I’d been promised crayfish and off we sped. In I went with mask, snorkel, fins, torch and spear gun looking for crayfish, the islanders with swimming goggles, torch, bare feet, spear with rudimentary rubber and handle, finding crayfish. Indeed I was to discover they were far more interested in spearing fish and simply caught 15 crayfish to make us happy! I added a crab to the pot and then speared a few fish to save my ego the embarrassment of not being able to spot a single crayfish.

We spent the reminder of our time exploring the village, chatting to people and then had a final meal with Titus and his family before heading off to the island of Santa Ana a 36 hour sail away.

Local Village, Nende Island

Another beautiful bay, we sat flat and sheltered. Many of these islands are isolated and fish is the main source of protein. Men paddle out at dawn and dusk fishing for hours on end. As we were packing the boat away, Chief Stuart left his fishing and paddled over to the boat to introduce himself. After some general chit-chat we made arrangements to meet him on land in the morning. Chief Stuart had been brought up under the English colonial system and made no bones about how he missed it. He was highly educated, intelligent and in his time had served as a teacher, worked on numerous committees and was now retired as a church minister. He had the most English of English accents we’d ever heard in an islander and could easily have donned a tie and jacket and fitted in comfortably in one of London’s private clubs, able to hold his own in conversation about the environmental devastation caused by logging in his country. He also came with a splendid English sense of humour and we loved spending time with him.

Spirit House on Santa Ana

One of the island’s attractions is a traditional spirits’ house (not of the alcoholic type) owned by a village on the windward side of the island which Stuart duly guided us to see. Walking into the village we were amazed how windswept it was – why anyone wants to live right on the edge on the windward side of an island with trade winds blowing day-after-day was beyond us. The thatched houses clearly took a battering but Stuart explained this was where people grew up and they remained loyal to their village and family. The spirits’ house is where bones of the chiefs and elders were traditionally kept. The bodies were buried and then later dug up once the flesh had decomposed. If you were a chief your bones were then kept in a small wooden canoe or wooden carved tuna in the house. The last time a chief’s remains were placed in a canoe was in 1947; the introduction of Christianity in the islands means the house is now no more than an attraction for the odd tourist that comes this way. Only men are allowed to enter but the two houses were open ended meaning Susie didn’t miss out on skull spotting from afar. The elders’ skulls were kept in simple baskets and very visible. Unusual sight ticked off, we headed back to the leeward side of the island and enjoyed the shelter.

Running a medical clinic

The Susie medical clinics continue as we see many people with wounds that are seriously festering in the tropical environment. Even for ourselves a cut gets quickly treated as untreated they can lead to serious infection and it’s not uncommon for it to lead to death in the tropics (we heard many horror stories in Vanuatu). Children often seem more vulnerable in the villages. Susie inspects the wound and then usually cleans it with hydrogen peroxide, applies some betadine and then a plaster or wound dressing and bandage. An infected wound gets a helping of antibiotics (thank you Lulu in Havannah for the supply of antibiotics). Father Christmas, aka Tom, dips into the bag of goodies and a reward is passed depending on age and bravery – hairbands, colouring pencils and bouncing balls are the common treats.

Susie trading with local girls on the back step of Adina

For Solomon islanders learning to paddle a dugout follows swiftly after learning how to walk. It’s not uncommon to see a toddler barely able to stand helping out with a paddle. And they have this unique technique of using their feet to flick water out of their dugouts. We soon learnt that young children love to paddle out to pay a yacht a visit and in the afternoon come the end of school you hear chatty, happy voices around the boat. Attention attracting starts with whistles, clicks or even the odd hello. Ignore them and you will get some boy start to sing. Ignore that and you get loud singing. It’s not like they have busy diaries, they will stay until the white man appears. The younger children are the most fun.

The boys come out to visit

We soon worked out in Santa Ana that there was a ringleader; he paddled out with three of his mates who were making noise, laughing and teasing each other while he did some chatting. An hour later the ringleader returned paddling three girls who, smarter than the boys who just make noise, had brought a bag of little apples with them and were asking would we like them? Of course you have to be polite and trade. A packet of Oreos results in much joy. We know, we know, we shouldn’t; it’s a hard one, we don’t ever hand out sweeties but we also know while books and pens are appreciated, the kids would far rather we come to the school and do that. Toys, ok, but we’re not a toy shop with endless supplies. After hours is for fun and they row off smiling away, stopping to share the biscuits on their way back. Ringleader of course latches on to this and is back an hour later with his male friends and coconuts. The next day there he is again with the boys and this time they have twelve papaya and a live bird! It is the funniest sight as they approach the stern in their wooden dugout, half of them naked, they look up at you, all of them smiling broadly and holding up papaya and a bird. We’ll take two papaya and please release the bird. Much confusion, questioning amongst themselves why do they not want all the papaya and why do they want to release the bird. Ringleader assures them he’d rather a biscuit than a bird and they should release it. Now I’m sitting in our dinghy trying to remove the outboard to store and of course ringleader is back with friends asking if they can please have a ride. Cunning kid, got his way every time.

Local kids get Tom to take them for a dinghy ride!

Early one morning we hoisted our sails and bid farewell to Chief Stuart sitting happily in his dugout fishing, a gentleman amongst gentleman, we would miss him. Ringleader was in school no doubt rounding up some more friends and fruit and we would be missed that afternoon.

As we sail further north we keep expecting the trade winds to drop any moment but they still plied us forward, ensuring Shell’s share price would remain low. Our next destination was Wanione bay on the island of San Cristobal, not featured in any guide book but recommended by a fellow cruiser. We dropped anchor and could see around thirty people either swimming or paddling out to us. The village has a large school and we were quickly surrounded by laughing and smiling boys. Not quite sure what to do with so many people, we put out some fenders for the swimmers to hold onto and tried our best to engage them. So far we have found most Solomon islanders study English but are shy to speak it, although there are always one or two who will give it a go. Two friendly men paddled up and suggested another anchorage point that they could guide us to. We followed, fathoming it was to keep us beyond the swimming range of all the boys.

Our dinghy makes a good staging post for visitors

We knew we were still only a paddle away and come end of the school day, you could hear the chatting voices outside once more. We’ve realised leaving the dinghy off the back of Adina is a good idea as they then hang onto that rather than the sides of the boat. Most just want to look at the boat and hope one of their friends can talk to us and translate for them. But yet again it was the really young who were entrepreneurial but boys being boys they grab the first thing that comes to mind – coconuts. The problem is Adina can only hold so many coconuts. Still at the end of the day, two little chaps, naked and covering their private parts in front of Susie, approach the stern. Two little smiles, two coconuts freshly husked are offered up. You’ve got to be one mean soul to say no.

Another beautiful Solomon Island anchorage

So we pushed on, picking a few less populated islands as we looked to try and reduce our coconut stocks. Many of these islands offer nothing more than white sand beaches, coconut trees with their bright green leafy fronds bending under the weight of coconuts and lush, untouched, unexplored reefs full of fish and colour. That said, the Solomons are home to very dangerous salt water crocodiles and at each anchorage we check with locals if it’s safe to swim. Even then, the spear gun accompanies us and one time came in very handy to catch a man-eating crayfish who went very nicely on a pizza.
Having reduced our coconut load, we are now sitting on a mooring buoy in a bay in the Florida Islands. Beautiful islands, yachts started to bypass them due to greedy chiefs and problems with thefts. But one family is making a name for itself welcoming people, watching boats, helping with everything they can and it is here we have arrived. On the one side the sun is rising, lighting up the small village which sits on a white beach, the hills behind it covered in a variety of green trees including redwood and maple wood, as a full moon shines and slowly sinks on the opposite side. Might just stay here a while.