We gave rudimentary first aid today to a child from the village on Gigila Island. She had a hand sized scold on on her stomach, blistered in areas. Janette, aged about 5 year old, was paddled out to our boat by her mother. She was tiny and tough as nails she was silent as we applied burn gel. I asked if she was in pain and her mother translated. Her answer; no. We gave them Bactroban Topical and some amoxy we had in our medical stash in case it got infected.

I reckon the villagers would have to be near death to seek real medical attention. It is also difficult to get. A canoe paddle to the school is about 5ks away, a ham radio call to Nimoa,  50ks away, and if urgent enough several hours wait for the Nimoa water ambulance. If it is just painful, like the childs burn, it is just grin and bear it until things get worse. Hopefully they wont.


The day before yesterday we went for a dive in the gold rush channel at the eastern entrance to the Calvados Chain. The edge of this snaking channel was bordered with reef and fell into 60m of clear blue water. The reef jutted out like a shelf in places with a 10m overhang. In places there were holes you could swim through up to the reef flat. Jamie and I went in together ' to decrease the probability of death by shark by half'. It was spooky as hell and very beautiful.

                                            Children on Gigila Island

We are in Tryon bay, Rossel Island.


I've been getting into the spirit of the barter economy, and I had been eyeing off the chickens in the villages and saying to Jamie "we should get our hands on a chicken". Trust me to open my big mouth. Fast forward to yesterday afternoon and that is precisely what I had my hands, a trussed live chicken.


I had to hold it while Jamie paid for it with buckets. Waves of guilt, pity and fear of the impending act of butchery washed over me as I held the poor thing, the islanders looked on slightly amused. Simon, the purveyor of the bird told me he fed it on coconuts and that it was 'good gris', a pidgin term for generally excellent and very fatty.  


Moments later the transaction done, I walked the captive to the gallows, where Jamie held a machete and an oar as a chopping block. I had a foolish wish to give our dinner one last pleasure on earth, a walk around the deck perhaps? Then my mind screamed at me  'Darren it's a chicken, and you're on a boat, get a grip!" We covered it's eyes with a shirt, the machete fell. Gruesome death throws ensued. I am thinking I can see why this job has been outsourced, top work INGHAM. More gruesome plucking by your faithfull correspondent. Then into the pot, chicken soup. How was it? It was very good gris.

In the 20 years I have known Jamie, I have often had cause to ponder 'have we gone too far this time?' 


This occurred to me again as we scrambled over boulders, climbing up a swollen creek in the north of Sudest yesterday. Our  purpose? Paning for gold. The archipeligo saw a gold rush in the turn of the last century and another in the last 15 years, which still has some way to run. Jamie has met locals on previous trips who have asked for help to mine for it.


The attitude toward big mining varies from island to island, in Sudest they have apparently rejected the advances of the multinationals. Maybe the Misima mine, about 60 miles north across the Solomon Sea was example enough; a cash injection, yes, but a large tract of the island is now un suitable for agriculture or villages. I am guessing but maybe the money didn't trickle down far from the board room? A case of once bitten?


So there we were up a creek in the middle of no where on an island in the middle of no where, paning for gold. Did we find any? No, but i found a nice rock.


In the galley today. . . Dinner was seared fresh yellow fin tuna (Rossell reef) on a bed of sweet potato mash (Motorina Island) with a a garlic onion tomato ragu (Woolies tinned italian) and cracked black pepper. Drinks: Bundy rum and orange juice (wala island) served in a plastic cup.

Mission visit was interesting. We saw the mission funded hospital, it was basic but functional. We also the school which, after being destroyed by a cyclone was rebuilt with funds donations from a gold mine now de-commissioned on Misima Island.


Word of mouth accounts told us that the mine was a corrupt and destructive enterprise but this 'good' deed may have deflected the bad press, that is if there was any bad press.  
Father Young (aged 75) is in charge of the mission, but was absent as he's visiting his ill mother in Australia. She is close to 100. 


We talked to a tutor, Simon Paul, who gave us details of two potential projects, lighting the mission school with solar lights (the older students quite often study at night using expensive to run hurrican lamps ) and also an extension building for the school - a much more complex undertaking and not sure if it's in the scope of this trip.

We are at anchor by a Catholic mission on Nimoa Island. 


The gastronomique tour continues; we had giant mud crab stir fried in chilli, lime and fish sauce for dinner. This was courtesy of Samson, a villager from Panatinane Island, and James; who was bitten by it during it's capture, much to the amusement of the islanders and I. It tasted better than anything I have bougt in a restaurant, period. James managed to scoff his with one finger held out and bound in plaster. We paid for the crab with buckets and clothes. 


The number of islanders we are meeting with Anglo-Christian names has been increasing steadily as we neared the mission; Samson, Maria, Teresa, Noah, David and also a cluster of Gilberts?? 


We are going ashore tomorrow, trying to gather information  for our project and also watch the weekly soccer match which apparently draws players and spectators from across the archipeligo. We saw the first electric lights we have seen since arriving, and they shine invitingly across the water.