|19 Sep 2004 @ 04:46, by Salama Shaquana|
This article starts.....
We had not long returned from the New Georgia group, where I had just bought a beautiful tropical island with white sand beaches and coconut palms, and we were desperately in need of new rental accommodation on Guadalcanal. My best friend Joseph had been helping me find a house that was preferably outside the Honiara area. As there was a shortage of livable housing, it had almost come to the point of taking what we could get.
Joseph told me of a house that he knew of at his village but he thought it wouldn't suit me as I'm a white man. I told him to stop that kind of rubbish thinking and that we should go and have a look. I knew of Joseph's village, but I couldn't place the house that he had been describing to me as we drove the roughly 70-kilometre journey westward along the coast from Honiara.
Upon arriving at Cape Esperance, Joseph pointed to the quaint little three-bedroom timber house that was on the eastern extremity of the village. It had a cement floor and a galvanised iron roof with an out-house near the grass-hut kitchen, and the most beautiful island sea view that anyone could wish for. There was a tap and shower outside with perpetual mountain spring water. It didn't bother me that there was no electricity, as I had a generator. I made up my mind to take the house, as I didn't have too many options left. While I was inspecting the house, the divorced woman who owned the house arrived, and so I formalised an agreement to move in the next day.
Late the next afternoon, we arrived at the house with a six-tonne truck and proceeded to unload all our possessions into the house. This attracted the attention of a good portion of the village folk, as I was the only white man ever to have come to live in their area.
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