It's Relationship Territory

When I left my Sydney job last year I was rather presumptuous and suggested that my farewell gift could be a care package to be sent to me in Kiribati once I knew what I wanted or was missing. The idea was welcomed and left the organiser off the hook of what to buy this Pacific gypsy.

A heart shaped pond in my oceanic garden

Five months on in this adventure a few needs and wants came to light. Top of the list came undies, er um, this was not something I was about to put into the hands of a dear middle-aged male co-worker, so let’s investigate furthur.

It didn’t take long before my electric tooth brush wasn’t getting out of first gear and preferring not to whirl around my teeth. Knowing I would not be able to find one here that was now top of the list, also on a shopping list before departing Australia was a sour dough starter from a health food shop near work. I am over eating the one choice here of sweet bread, I was in need of some “culture” along with dried fruit and reading materials.

My dear ex-work colleague was happy with the list and went about making the purchases. Aware that the postage costs were probably going to be greater that the goods inclosed I went about seeking options for a courier. Turns out another friend from Sydney and a local I-Kiribati person were attending the same gathering in Fiji, so bingo I have a tooth fairy come international mule.

The parcel makes it to my hands, I munch on some of the dried fruit included and my teeth get a good clean. I love having a letter in my hands to read and pin up at my home at “Ocean View”, now it’s time to tackle the sourdough packet.

My bread making experience is limited and with no knowledge of how to get a sour dough culture started I eagerly read the instructions and take tips from the worldwide web. That’s the easy part, but I’m still yet to find a suitable glass bowl to sterilise or culture jar to keep the living ancient “being” let alone any bread tins !

This is Kiribati, substitutes are a way of life.

The first step know as “awaken your culture” needed military planning so I set about trying to match these steps with my daily life. Theses processes requires the culture to be nurtured, fed and tended to, initially after 24 hours then each 12 hours for 5-6 days (and this is before even attempting to make some bread !).

 Introducing the unawakened Mr Sourdough

No worries, this country was about to head into 5 days of public holidays for Independence celebrations, what better time than to enter this 120 year old chain. Sitting at the table with the ocean crashed just 25 feet away I take to matching the Independence day events I wished to attend and the needs of my new best friend Mr Sour Dough. 

 OMG, this is a serious commitment I feel like I am heading into relationship material. I haven’t considered myself desperate and dateless in Kiribati but this is serious stuff, taking on the responsibility of “awakening” this ancient sourdough from Germany (maybe just good marketing but that’s what is written on the packet) then the pressure of keeping this relationship alive and well.

Keeping in touch with family and friends is important to me and takes some dedication from this outpost. Several years ago I joined the social networking phenomena and for the most this communication has worked well, especially with my techno savvy friends and “x” generation family members.  In my online profile I had never bothered with identifying my relationship status (mostly due to my luddite ability) but with this growing sour dough commitment I decided to “come out” to this relationship. Nothing like giving the family something to talk about and an opportunity and to test if anyone actually reads my postings. 

It’s time to go from no comment to “in a relationship”, oh what fun.  

Several days later and without internet access at home I visit down the road for free wireless and an afternoon of catching up on the outside world. I have done it, found that profile page ready to edit. “It’s complicated” sounded to complex, I know this relationship is going to have some rises and possible failings but it’s time to cement this commitment and take aim, I’ve gone the whole way.

“In a relationship”

He he.....

OMG, in less than 30 minutes 10% of my friends have liked or commented already. What are they doing ? It’s mid afternoon on a working day in Australia ? Looks like catching up on social media (especially anything gossipy) is the new smoko/tea break.

I’m up for a warm and toasty relationship and will spill the beans (or sesame seeds) when I get to first base !   

UP NEXT: Dealing with death

Swimming : legless and blind

I would like to say that I go swimming in crystal clean waters teeming with colourful marine life and refreshing cool swells on a weekly bases, sadly that is not the case. The waters surrounding the atoll of Tarawa are lovely to look at, the lagoons stillness and colours can take your breath way and the ocean can be very powerful and dominating.

An atoll such as Tarawa is created by coral growing along the slopes of a sinking old oceanic volcano. Basically sands collect on the shallow reef  (the rim of the old volcano) that sits about sea level, seeds blow in and over time a impressionable ring of flat, narrow islands of sand, coral and some trees (in this case mostly coconut) all surround a shallow lagoon. Tarawa gets some protection from the erosive action of open ocean waves by an outer reef.

There are quite few such atolls sitting in the pacific, Kiribati has 33 but only 8 of them are populated and Tarawa is the most populated taking the title of being “the most densely populated piece of land in the world”.

 Welcome to Tarawa - East to West is South Tarawa, North to South is North Tarawa

 

Surrounded by water unfortunately does not mean swimming. The population and lack of sanitation sees the lagoon being the bathhouse for over 45,000 people and Westerns are advised not to swim in it while the reef on the ocean side drops off several 100 meters and posing a dumped or suffering from coral cuts at least.

Opportunities to get away and swim are grabbed quickly. My most recent adventure was with the people from my work who were hosting a couple of visitors from Australia. So into a truck went the wheel chairs, eskies, rice bags carrying everything and anything and about 25 people including babies, those who are blind, have artificial legs, able bodied or covered in sun screen (the 3 westerners). After renegotiating the pick up time (it was Saturday and 6am is a bit too early in my books!) off we set along the increasingly pot holed road to meet a boat and venture to Broken Bridge on North Tarawa. (a road bridge that has been broken for  some years, the story is that government couldn’t find the funds of $10,000 or the willingness  to fix it !) The bridge joins two smaller atolls and has water coming from the ocean into the lagoon, lovely fresh, cool clean water with the added excitement of jumping from the bridge and floating along.

I have only been to one water based Kiribati picnic before and I thought that was a treat, this one had it all. Women set about weaving mats for the picnic rugs, setting up a camp kitchen for preparing chicken and cooking rice while the men climbed coconut trees for fresh drinks, and more palm fronds. Then out come the crème le crème of entertaining cooking utilities, this was a real BBQ.    

 The hands and beautiful work of a young blind women making a picnic mat

Locals don’t seem to worry about the effect of the searing sun here and swimwear along with any other clothing range do not exist. Lava lavas (like a sarong) and a tee shirt are the universal apparel for all occasions, swimming is no exception. With domestic duties accomplished and BBQ kings cooking and keeping the coconut husks burning it’s time to take to the water and explore the bridge. Artificial limbs and walking aids are left to hold themselves against a tree, blind people tag onto a person ahead and it’s into the briny we go. The kids quickly use any person taller than themselves as a human floaty and we all lull about in the aquatic playground. I can only imagine the range of feelings and senses that change for a blind person or someone not having to bare the weight of an introduced limb when they take to this activity. The fresh water was offering me a new freedom, the joy and smiles on the faces of others seemed to suggest the same. 

The Kiribati BBQ (carried on site by a boat and a truck)

 

Swimming, eating, laughing, singing, a batch of anzac biscuits and a few speeches made up the program.  The BBQ and feast served us well, a quick shower of rain washed the pots, another swim and it’s time to board the boats and skim the lagoon back home.

Forget money hungry cruises and tiresome schedules this was real Kiribati hospitality and a treat to be part of.

UP NEXT : It’s relationship territory 

Life administration : there's nothing like hanging out in the bank !

Administrative tasks and functions that bought us such things as the ink jet printer and newspaper bills may contribute in keeping the world going round but they don’t just disappear when living in a developing country.

My life living in a big city was quite simple, I attempted not to get too caught up with annoying life admin tasks or duties and no more so than those with regard to telecommunications and financial "stuff". 

Keeping the dept collector away, the fridge full or the power going wasn’t too challenging or consuming, here, getting enough food to have a full fridge can take a day with all the stopping and starting at the road side sellers or a trip to the west end of the atoll to the supermarket. However, it’s a recent trip to the bank that takes the cake for administrative process, entertainment and

"what the f…" moments.

There is one flavour of bank here, it has Australia in it’s name but is a different “product” the one we know back home ! The one brand bank has two branches and four ATMs on the atoll. These provide a banking service to almost 50,000 people, the government and the vast number of global aid providers that are here. Credit card facilities and internet banking haven’t made it here yet so it’s pretty much a cash and coconut system. 

Kiribati became independent in 1979 but has yet to produce it’s own currency, Australia is a major aid supplier hence it runs under this dollar and the link to the bank with 3 letters.   

 Well used coins and a $2 Kiribati coin celebrating 10 years of  Independence  in 1989

A trip to the bank is normally a planned and considered adventure, the most recent trip was in response to my landlady asking to have the rent paid in advance. I may be paying more rent here for a small besser brick house on the most densely populated piece of land in the world than I paid in a “fashionable” Sydney suburb but OK I can do this for her. What I wasn’t expecting was to take 2 steps inside the bank door and not be able to move. It’s about one on a Thursday afternoon and I joined the other 100 or so people also attempting mostly simple transactions and as I breathed in and tried to assess the situation I found I had gate crashed a queue. Using my best ski lift shuffle and an I-matang look of bewilderment I joined the rush hour and hoped it would take me to the right counter before sunset.

 Just about to make it to premuim front row seating

When I first arrived in Kiribati the bank had the simple system of collecting a number and waiting to be served in order, simple, logical, civilized and appeared to work. One could take a guess at how long before your number would come up and go off doing other chores and come back. I’d like to know what high earning consultant flew in and came up with this new “efficient” system or “customer service” strategy, I bet they never actually did any banking here.

Waiting is good for the mind right ? It’s a good teacher of patience huh.

“Patience is not about how long someone can wait, 

but how well they behave while waiting” 

I found this quote recently and it’s got me into observation mode, 2 hours waiting in a bank provided much fodder to chew on. Starting with my own patch it seemed to take me half an hour to stop shaking my head and loosen that grip of disbelief. Next it was counting and number crunching, the number of people waiting in the queue in front of me (31), behind me (25) another queue (45, and hoping I wasn’t suppose to be in that one !),  and a personal favourite the number of people wearing shoes (this is a vox pop that I have taken up, reckon it’s about 45% sole less, or I should say thong less).

My maths has me aiming to get served within 2 hours (almost correct) and 20 minutes until I graduate from shuffling to a seat. The prize of scoring a seat comes with having to move along one as each person gets served and has my bottom (and everyone else’s) gracing all 27 seats !

 More people waiting to get inside the bank

I depart the bank alive and intact and battle through the queue of people still trying to get into the officially closed bank. Maybe like me they don’t wear a watch and apart from the bank closing time and the two flights to the big land this place feels like it ticks to it’s own timepiece.

Up next :    Swimming with the blind & legless :