I rather like to think of it as a blessing…my ability to chitchat with anyone…anywhere. I find that genuine conversations and questions can provoke valuable information and insights into lives that are different than our own. And, I love this.
I was sitting in the bank waiting for Tom to conduct his business when a woman from the Island of Malaita sat down next to me. I didn’t know that was where she was from until I asked her. And I wouldn’t have thought to ask her until I saw the makings on her face. Malaita is an Island East of Guadalcanal and is still considered one of the last unexplored frontiers.
And, as I learned while chatting in the bank, facial scarring and tattooing still occurs to identify the Malaitian tribe members. It seems that while the infants are young a distinct pattern is cut into their face and ink from a particular bark is spread into the open wounds where it will permanently stay. The markings represent the village that they are from and the fact that they do it identifies them as Malaitains.
As we chatted I learned so much more about their tribal life. I also know they are very connected to their wantooks (clansmen) and each person is given a piece of the family history. It is only when they are together that the entire history is known. Each member having only his valuable piece to contribute thus ensuring the continued connections and legacies being handed down. There is no written account.
I was brought up to speed on some other local customs…the chewing of betel nut for example. The nut is grown on trees and cracked open by mouth to obtain the most potent amount. In combination with the juice of a lime and the leaf from a local plant one can receive an instant jolt of energy. It often turns the teeth red and then black and this becomes a permanent stain. We see everyone doing it and we were told that often people do this instead of lunch…refreshing them for the rest of their day.
Education and health care are almost non-existent and the average grade completed is about the 5th grade. Our friend Tony who drives a cab is an exception to the rule as far as being an entrepreneur goes. He comes from a family of nine sons where only the first four could receive any education.
He worked very hard to learn to drive and then drove for six months without pay for the opportunity to buy his own cab-which he now owns. He cares for this car like a mother cares for her infant and drove us whenever we needed a lift. He filled us in on the history, customs, social problems, and life in general on the Islands. We thoroughly enjoyed getting to know him.
We received a couple of invitations to visit and to stay with their wantooks and who knows…we just might sometime.
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