A Fierce Reality

The Day I Defined Admiration

2011-10-28T18:00:00.000+13:00

We often take hours thinking about people we envy. Here
is what I wrote after meeting a person who is now a
very good friend of mine. Photo:Goggle.

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

A sight of you reminded me of the $2000 worth canon camera I saw at PROUDS*the other day. I’ve always wanted to own a camera that can capture my everyday life in style so that I’ll have a store of memories to look back to in the future. Do I have that amount to give me the title to that high tech cam? Poor me, now I just have to settle down with the wish that one day I’ll get to have that substantial amount so that I’ll get to pay that stunning canon product.

You have the smile of a down to earth girl. You appear to have no problem falling in a conversation with anyone-just anyone at all. Those were my first impressions of you. When I first sighted you, I decided not to allow myself to fall for your beauty. People say looks can be deceiving. So I took a stand on the way side to give myself time to see you in person.

The girl that my eyes were set on has a magnetic aura around her. Her ways are worth dying for. She has a good sense of humor. She talks and laughs in a friendly way. She’s natural. She doesn’t choose to enhance her looks with make ups. Donned with a pretty smile, she was quick to get on the wagon when our topic flew from our usual island way of introduction to the tones of jokes I had in store. I’ve decided to act as if we’ve met each other before. Hence I resort to man the conversation with more jokes. She contributed nicely and I could see the calmness in her eyes.

Somewhere in each person’s heart, there are wishes. One of those is the wish to find someone you’ll get to share your life with.

I ran into you by accident, but after settling down to have my eyes see for themselves the beauty within you, I knew I had something to say about you. Was it love? Well I opted to again take the stand on the way side. I have a reason for doing that-what if the person I’m eyeing is already taken? It’s shameful to come in unexpectedly between two people, isn’t it?

We can’t stop events from appealing to our minds, but even though how much you admire them, face the reality. Not all of them will be yours no matter how much you wish. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to own such an iconic camera. May be a year or 2? Oh perhaps not at all. Well it’s not wrong to admire something when it looks good. I’d be happy if I don’t get to have the camera after all. At least I was fascinated by the amount of wonders it can do in the world of photography. May be I am meant to go with my laid back SUMSUNG brand that is laying around at my Waimanu* flat.

The accident I went through by coming across you was indeed an exciting one. I knew I met a kind hearted person. Thanks for nourishing my life with all those smiles. We own the key to our own hearts and the task of opening it is only done when the person who is knocking is the one you want him in. I don’t want to knock at your door today because I don’t want to draw your attention from the one you already have inside. I’m just passing by your dwelling to admire its architecture. Thanks for inspiring me. I will always keep a smile inside to remember the day I met you.

Bye,

Mr. Aimless Admirer (Harold Maesulia)

*PROUDS is a one of the world class shops in Suva.

*Waimanu is the name of the street I live in at Suva.

A Lesson from Kinoya

2011-10-08T15:27:00.007+12:00

Kasa (far left) and some members of the MBBS III class.
Photo: Harold Maesulia

Ask any of the MBBS III (Bachelor of Medicine, and Bachelor of Surgery) students at the Fiji School of Medicine how they feel about Community Public Health classes on Wednesdays and you’ll get a mixed reaction. Besides the loyal who always turn up as early as 8 am each Wednesday to catch the school bus to Tamavua, you’ll surely find a group of students who remain uninterested in joining the fun of bus riding up and down the hills.

While concentration was perhaps a battle I fought to win during each class, it turned out after all that my attendance record for these classes was good because I enjoyed what was supposed not to be the whole point of each Wednesday morning. Well, I couldn’t help it but I was so hooked on the euphoria that comes with the morning bus rides.

By Harold Maesulia
Follow me on twitter.

So when one of those classes was replaced by a field trip to the Tamavua Water Treatment Plant and the Sewage Treatment Plant at Kinoya, I headed to the Chinese Shop a few yards from home to load my camera with some Energizer Batteries. Because I was so sure that this time the bus ride would be longer.

With the camera diagonally strapped across my body, I headed to Pasifika (our school campus) quite early with Mathew and Maria. We were quite excited and perhaps the excitement hit me more than my two colleagues because within minutes after living the comfort of our flat, I popped into an Indian Eatery to get us some sandwiches for lunch.

The trip up to Tamavua was refreshing. With the beautiful tunes from Legend FM’s breakfast show hitting me from my ear phones plus the busy but beautiful Suva traffic building up massively along the way, I sat back in awe as if I was on a holiday.

What awaits us at the Water Treatment Plant was a story told to us by actually walking us through the amazing plant. Segmented into areas where water takes time to go through each cleaning process, we were shown what actually happens at each stage.

The final filter before the water actually goes for chlorination was the bit I found to be quite puzzling. “What?” I whispered to myself after our tour guard told us that it’s the final filter. Well, it was the color of the water that alarmed me. It was like mud. “This stage uses a specially imported sand to clean the water-even bacteria are removed here,” our tour guard emphasized.

It was not long after that when I settled down to agree with the gentle man. The end product of the filter was so crystal clear. My camera agreed so I allowed it to do its job. Its shutter clicked and went the FLASH!

We headed up the building to see where chlorination occurs. It was breath taking from the top of the building. The whole plant from up there looked like a park of ferry wheels.

We were supposed to bag the whole lot of information imparted on us by the friendly tour guard, but most of us didn’t. I was so carried away with my photographing endeavor that I later disliked myself for acting like a photographer who had to cover an event for a paper. Well, blame photo fanatics like Kasanita and Maria who followed the camera like it’s their bread and butter. Boy, these beings just want to be in every photo…Kasa would probably be given some mercy, because while in Fiji, that’s my Tau.

Only at Kinoya...The sewage is
turned into harmless forms before they’re disposed
into the sea. Photo: Harold Maesulia.

When we came down, we were made to have lunch before heading for Kinoya. I overheard from someone that we have to eat before heading to Kinoya because that’s where whatever is deposited when one visits the toilet ends up to be turned into harmless forms before they’re disposed into the sea.

The smell was kind of different when we arrived there. I opted not to cover my nose although the methane seemed to touch the nerves that are responsible for bringing one’s hands to his nose to keep them out of the smell’s reach.

Everything appeared to be functioning the usual way for the guys at the sewage treatment plant. A man in overalls was cutting the grass outside the main office with all smiles. He didn’t wear any masks.

The security officer at the front gate looked just like the ones at Pasifika. He too was without a mask.

Well, I said to myself, why worry, let’s enjoy the environment! I followed nothing whatsoever that was said during that time because I was either taking photos or enjoying the fun of getting use to the smell.

I whispered to myself “boy if I can handle this smell, I can handle anything!”

Singing the Slaying of a Martyr

2011-10-06T16:26:00.007+12:00

By Harold Maesulia
Follow me on twitter.

If only the gleeful sounds of a highland church choir could appear in a dream to the inhabitants of Nukapu in 1871, they could perhaps be merciful to Bishop John Coleridge Patteson.

If only they could see us now, congregating happily every Sunday, singing our hearts out, they could have probably marveled at the joy we have inside. Instead of sweating our guts out feeding pigs, which would later be offered in worship of ancestral spirits, Christian faith has made us forfeit those practices, which in the past, only a selected few would at the end of the day part take of the meat, ripping the sweats of women who kicked all over the place to fetch food to feed the animals. A revelation about these insights perhaps could have rung a bell somewhere up their brains not to stop “THE MEN OF GOD” from performing their duties.

Bishop John Coleridge Patteson

Not until the 1800s, the Islands of Solomons were untouched by Christianity. There appeared to be a rush hour around that era when different churches with head offices in countries like New Zealand and Australia tasked some of their men to sail the seas for the islands. The prime aim then was to plant the gospel seed on the various Pacific islands. The urge was high to send brave men who would go and farm the untouched Pacific with the word of God.

Known for its cannibalism, our Solomon Islands became a hostile ground for some of these missionaries. Some died trying to show the light to the heathen islanders.

One of them, whom Anglicans around the world remembered as a Christian Martyr, was Bishop John Coleridge Patteson-the first bishop of Melanesia.

He landed on Nukapu , a tiny island in Temotu Province, on the 20th of September 1871(also his day of death which Anglicans regard as Bishop Patteson’s Day). In 1855, Bishop George Selwyn of New Zealand uttered a call for volunteers to go to the South Pacific to preach the Gospel. John Coleridge Patteson, originally from England, responded to the call and set sail for the islands with the goal of Christianizing the islanders.

I was adamant to dig the details of what Bishop Patteson’s Day is. That’s not because I’m not interested in historical events, but I thought it’ll be quite hectic trying to run around for information about someone like that whom Anglican devotees set aside the 20th of September each year to remember his death.

The bit that fascinates me was how he actually died. When my friend told me that he was found dead in a canoe on an island in the Solomon Islands, I broke free from my adamant mind, thinking to myself that it’d surely make a good find if I opted to dig out some more information.

Bishop Patteson’s mission to the islands was barricaded by a wall-the existence of so many languages. One has no choice but to learn and master the local vocabulary. Because that’s the only means by which the islanders could receive their salvation message.

With his new job, came an aim. And the aim for Bishop Patteson was to get the local boys and send them overseas to be educated in Western Christian cultures. The purpose was to nourish more seeds so that they’ll get to grow the gospel in the islands, but probably it hit the wrong button on the islanders’ side. Some probably misread the movement for kidnapping. But the initial aim was to arm them with the gospel knowledge so that upon their return, which they later did, they’d help spread the gospel. That made the task of learning the local languages a must for him.

He made it his goal to learn as many languages as he could. And he succeeded. He became fluent in twenty three languages that were spoken in both Melanesia and Polynesia.

It appeared as if the islanders failed to see the good work that Bishop Patteson was preparing their boys for. They probably failed to read the splendid task he would get them to do at Norfolk Island-learning to read and write, the arts which would later prove vital in their pastoral work in their various islands.

But who would blame them? The inhuman treatment suffered by some of these islanders was still fresh when he (Bishop Patteson) was around sailing on his mission. The stealing of islanders for distant labor, known to us as the Blackbirding days, was so inhuman that so many died while they were struggled into the boats.

Some historians believed that the Nukapuans took the duty of slaying Bishop Patteson in revenge for the abduction of some natives by these illegal labor recruiters.

In the Chapel of Merton College in Oxford, Thomas Woolner made a memorial to honor Bishop Patteson. The memorial depicts his portrait surrounded by fronds, beneath which he is shown lying in the canoe. It stands as a remembrance to a person who was slain while on duty spreading the word of God to the unreached.

While many of us would not probably get to see it in person, what we have today of what these missionaries had laid long ago should be enough to remind us of the loyalty they had towards the task of converting our forefathers to Christianity.

When the voices in a Sago palm thatched church erupted in a spirited choir, we ought to stop and thank God for people like Bishop John Coleridge Patteson. Indeed, it was through their sacrifice that good news found its way to our beautiful islands. That good news did turn our war-minded men into different kind of soldiers. The kind of soldiers who no longer wage war against other tribes’ men, but soldiers who stand alongside their wives to raise their kids in the way of the Almighty one, winning others into the church with their new found attitudes.

When someone smiles and offers you food or a place to sleep, why not stop and thank God for people like Bishop John Coleridge Patteson? Indeed, their aim of planting the seed of salvation in the hearts of our people had bore fruits. Some people have instilled in them a place where the love of God thrives.

I joined my Solomon friends in Suva a couple of weeks back to mark Bishop Patteson’s Day. I went to observe how the day was celebrated, but when I saw my Malaitan wantoks ( nicely defined by Danica Newton) entering the church in their traditional attires, I stared in admiration. As they danced the Mao (a Malaitan dance) along to the sounds of Melanesian hymns, I could not help but envy the spirit they’ve put into the preparations for the day. It might not look spiritual, but to me, it portrays a celebration by a people who have gratitude in their hearts for the great work done by the pioneers of gospel on their islands.

Sing along friends! Sing to celebrate the arrival of salvation on our isles. Since the first day it landed on these shores, salvation hasn’t failed a bit to find happy hearts. Gloriously, it did encode in those hearts a song. That song can be heard everywhere you go in the Solomons. It is heard loudest in the hills and valleys where people, who call the heavenly God their father, live.

Outside My Window!

2011-08-31T09:14:00.006+12:00

Some of the things I enjoy seeing from my window every day. Enjoy!

My Malaitan Song

2011-08-17T20:28:00.005+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

The children of Malaita.
Photo courtesy of corbisimages.com

Malaita.You have so many children!

Out of the lot, some strive to become tradesmen. Others find themselves in government offices working as public servants while others become key figures in private companies. I can see pride in your eyes when your children excel because not only do they create new lives for themselves but in their on ways, many are making an impact in others' lives.

Oh how I wish we have the power to reverse time. We want to go back and wipe the tears from your loving eyes brought about when some of us took the law into our own hands. The deeds of the black sheep portion of your family often bring you disgrace. And look at the names people are calling you now!

Oh how forgiving you are Malaita. You have children who've turned against you with their disgraceful attitudes but never at any moment did I see you disallow them from stepping on your shores. Many run away from you to other islands where life is lived with ease, but you forget them not and when they stepped out from the MV Pelican Express on their return home, you still have your small but bustling Auki awaiting them to shop and mingle with their own kind.

We could only pray that people out there don't judge your entire family from the naughty acts of some. There are still kind hearten people in your villages. So kind that they can still smile and give anyone food without asking from them any money. I can still see people who doesn't return wrongs with wrong in some of your villages because the love of God has mold them into peace makers. Oh how I wish that others would come to see the genuineness of the love that thrives in the hearts of some of your children. They take the other road. The road you want all your children to take. The road has Malaitans who have no discrimination in their hearts. In their eyes, Malaita, Guadalcanal and all the islands that make up Solomon Islands doesn't exist, because everyone is a brother and a sister to them.

Who will question the self reliance that exists in the hearts of your Polynesian decents? On the atolls of Ontong Java and Sikaiana, you still houses people who ask little from others let alone their will power to strive for a living with the little that they have around them.

Malaita, as you celebrate your 28th birthday we could only wish that the good found in some of your children will flourish, become infectious so that it'll get to infect everyone.

Happy birthday Mala!

A Slice of "Fijian Hospitality"

2011-08-15T20:49:00.008+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

Bogivitu and Sainimili at work during our screening
night.

Matailobau, a highland village in the Province of Naitasiri has been our home for half of last week. We were on a mission to assess the health status of the community. After analysing the data we've collected, we came up with priority areas selected by the villagers on which we based our intervention program on.

The villagers chose to have a community water tank after learning from our presentation that their water source is unsafe for drinking.

Our visit last week was probably going to be our last to the village. So we brought with us our educational health materials which we used to provide health education on selected nights.

I always look at this project as a small way in which we can reach out to the needy communities around us. But, when we got to the village, the warmth and hospitality offered by the Matailobauns deeply touched us. They gave us more than what we were there to give them. From the togetherness of the women taking time out to prepare delicious meals for us to the friendly smiles we got hanging around the neatly set village, all of my group members, even the Indo-Fijians, felt part of the community.

My host family regarded me as their son. I was made to call the head of the household dad and his lovely wife mum. They spoke little English but I spoke with those who can and shared a lot of jokes.

We made it to the Wainimala river for a swim and gosh it was cold. But the excitement brought about by the Bilibili ride was second to none.

...and then the bilibili ride.

We were given a bundle of dalo each when we left and as we waved the lovely villagers goodbye I said to myself, "this is what real hospitality is!"

Goodbye Matailobau. See you soon.

My Soccer Fear

2011-08-08T17:41:00.004+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

"We need a team which can score goals..."
Photo courtesy of centralmalaita.blogspot.com

The Pacific Games is just around the corner. But look at the development so far by our men's senior soccer team.

I can't agree much with the belief that we have a big pool of talented players who can give us something to cheer about. The recent S-League has unveiled some.

But I have a fear that even with this pool of talents, we won't be able to make it in Noumea this year. We need a professional coach who can direct the boys with a form of play that can help us win. We need a coach who can read another team's style of play and make appropriate changes so that the boys can score goals.

Yes, we need a team which can score goals because that's how we will win. It only takes a professional coach to pick the best out of the best to make the 11 member army.

Some one needs to tell me what Jacob Moli has achieved so far because I have a fear that we're going no where with a national squad under such a person's wings.

A Song of Happiness

2011-08-01T12:52:00.004+12:00

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

..dad is a simple happy man
because he loves the lord.

If dad has a way to tell us what true happiness is, it's surely going to be his choice of song. An old man who has toiled all his life doing classroom teaching in the primary schools in the highlands of Central Malaita should be weary at the age of 53. But that is not the song on daddy's lips.

When work commitments call, the dark skinned highlander can still gets up early as 4 to take the long 2 hours walk down the jungles to Busurata where a pick up truck could be boarded for a rough ride down the gravel road to Malaita's bustling capital, Auki. On his way home via the same route, he can still shoulder a bag of rice up the rain forest-covered hills to where our Okwala nestles.

He is full of hard work. Incorporated into his daily chores is a sense of calm which seems to be his tool of choice when ever he's in business either teaching his heart out in the classroom or just spending the afternoon away in his vegetable garden.

He's not so into clean looking clothes. But when he has the chance, he gives little attention to the luck. He, however, loves to act as if there's no possession to his name at all. He jokes just like any body in the village. And when it comes to community work, he's one of the center machines. I couldn't get to where his heart is not until he told me to repeat this song, which he said was his favourite, on my CD player.

Now every time I turn my ears to this song, something tend to tell me that dad is a simple happy man because he loves the lord.

While the world looks upon me

as I struggle along

They say I have nothing

but they are so wrong

In my heart I'm rejoicing

how I wish they could see

Thank you Lord for your blessings on me

Chorus:

Cause there's a roof up above me

I've a good place to sleep

There's food on my table

and shoes on my feet

You gave me your love Lord

and a fine family

Thank you Lord for your blessings on me

I know I'm not wealthy

and these clothes they're not new

And I don't have much money

but Lord I have you

And that's all that matters

though the world may not see

Thank you Lord for your blessings on me

Chorus:

There's a roof up above me I've a good place to sleep

There's food on my table and shoes on my feet

You gave me your love Lord and a fine family

And I thank you Lord for your blessings on me

"Thank You Lord for Your Blessings on Me"-Jeff and Sheri Easter

Celebrating a Hard Life

2011-07-29T16:39:00.004+12:00

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter

It doesn’t feel that different at all being thirty three.

Pay a visit to the remotest parts of Solomon Islands and get to see the real life out there.

In villages that nestle amidst lush tropical vegetation, many Solomon Islanders still rely on their environment for a living.

Visit a heathen village in the jungles of east Kwaio and you’ll witness people who are still walking around with hardly a thread on.

Jump on MV Isabella and pay some of the remotest highland villages up in the mountains of Maringe and Hograno and you’ll get to see young Isabellians who’ve never been to Honiara yet they are happy with the simplicity that thrives in their communities.

In the far eastern Solomons, an island continues to shear the detrimental forces of nature giving life to its inhabitants. Described by BBC as one of the remotest islands in the world, Anuta still nurtures life on its shores despite the fact that it rarely gets shipping services from the capital Honiara.

How these people came to survive is in deed a story to tell and hear. Over the years the difficult life on the island has equipped the islanders with specialties which range from unique fishing techniques to special arts of catching birds at night for consumption.

The happy face of kids surfing on waves and the sun tan men in their lavalavas pushing a canoe to the shore from a fishing trip speak volume of the care free life that thrives on this remote island.

The only way to get to urban centers for some of our 900 plus islands is either by a day’s walk down the rugged hills across rivers that retain their pristine beauty over the years or by hours on the water rowing man made canoes to get their produces for sale in centers which in turn will enable them to purchase kerosene and perhaps soap– a few of the things we regard as basic needs in a typical rural village. A truck lift is evident on islands like Guadalcanal and Malaita but that’s a rare fantasy on islands like Temotu, Choiseul and even our longest chain Isabel.

Getting one’s child to school is not always pleasant. Sometimes the poor parents have to sacrifice most of their earnings for just a single kid when he reaches the higher stages of secondary education. Do you think $4000 is attainable for a rural man who calls gardening his trade?

What could be more rewarding than taking time out to appreciate how things can be quite complicated to handle on our scattered islands. Nothing has shown up to dethrone the contentment in the hearts of some of our people. They are out of line when you talk about fashion. They go with simple stuff that they can afford. But do you find them overwhelmed with anxiousness? Get time to watch them the next day, they’ll be up and running again. Some will be out tending their gardens while for others it’ll be another day out in the sea fishing.

As a country, we haven’t got much to shout about development wise but there’s one we should embrace. And that is the infamous struggle we face each day.

It may look fitting to call it the survival of the fittest, but I always like to look at the positive side of things. The struggles have turned many into self reliant people. And you can see that in the eyes of many parents who've toiled their hearts out to see that their kids get the best out of Education. As a student, that is my reason to celebrate this year's 33th Independence Anniversary.

Limitless!

2011-04-19T12:02:00.005+12:00

"Claim the freedom to do what you love..."

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

When I first saw Limitless in an advert on The Fiji Times announcing the imminent screening of the 2011 American techno-thriller, I got my mind hocked on the tittle. I started making up the scenes in my head. May be the movie would feature something moving, say a story of how someone finds his way out of struggles to arrive at his dreams? May be it would be a story of a poor boy whom through his struggles finds a fortune that would change his life and that of his family for good?

None of my assumptions hit the target as I continued to read on. It turned out to be a film about a writer who has recently been dumped by his girlfriend but who is now creating a new image for himself after being offered a drug by a drug dealer which increases his intelligence. I lost interest after reading that and didn't get to watch it after all because I'm not so into science fiction. But the tittle makes me think of something else to write about.

Limitless! What will I learn from the word?

It makes me think of what I'm good at, my interests or hobbies so to speak. Ranging from writing to socializing with friends, it became obvious that my hobbies revolve around my personality. But that's not the point. Limitless! Am I really that free in expressing myself? People use hobbies as a means of expression. And everyone knows them by that because that's what they love. Isn't it common to hear people say "oh John is a very good soccer player?"

In singing, it is important to master the art of putting into song emotions that matches the message you want to put across to your listeners. In a stanza that carries a sad message, people will be touched if the singer takes them through it with a soft but clear voice that reflects the situation. In a game of soccer, people will cheer their heart out for a player who graces the field with skills in handling the ball. Well, a singer who soaks your eyes with tears and a mesmerizing soccer player who dribbles with perfection loves what they're doing. For sure they've trained for sometimes to get this far and most probably endured moments when discouragement seemed to turn them back.

I like the word limitless when I talk about what I love doing because it actually pushes me to enjoy myself and what I’m doing. Limitless to me means I mustn't place a barrier that will stop me from doing what I love.

We have different hobbies. What is yours? Are you a singer, a writer or just someone who loves helping the needy, a smiling person who blesses people with smiles every time he meets them? Your motivation today is limitless. Claim the freedom to do what you love. Never ever allow anything that may come in a form of discouragement and criticism barred you from being at your best in what you love. Fill yourself with freedom to write as much as you can if you’re interested in it because who knows, one of these days one of your writings will probably cheer someone up. Or if you’re a type who just loves to help others, take heart and grab the freedom to put a smile on others’ faces.

I like what Isaac Asimov said, and I quote, "Never let your sense of morals prevents you from doing what's right."

The Benefits of a Regret-free Life

2011-03-28T16:59:00.003+12:00

"...we live now, not yesterday, not tomorrow."

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

I've recently overwhelmed myself thinking about all the mistakes I've done in my life. If I had tried that harder, I thought to myself, I should be a couple of steps up the ladder already. I went as far as trying to locate where the danger button was. I must have pressed it by mistake? Or may be by deliberation, who knows?

I became frustrated after all because revisiting my past just seemed to add weight to the feeling of guilt that was already in me.

But inspirational thoughts from a friend freed me from that guilt. In fact he actually helped me view the idea of regret in another perspective, which I want to share it with you just to free your mind.

To make it simple for you to understand where I'm coming from, do this simple experiment. Wake up tomorrow morning and start your day off thinking about the most regrettable thing you've done the other day, or if you like, over the week or even over the years. Leave out no details. Uproot the detail of how you came to perform that silly act. What time you did it, bringing into light the people you've hurt and perhaps how it sort of spoke badly of you as a person. I bet that by the time you try to think of how you should have avoided it, you'd be feeling kind of low already.

That's exactly where my friend have decided to hit the nail. Each day is a gift. We are supposed not to tie ourselves to the events of yesterday. Although they can be used as a lesson to help us know where things can possibly go wrong, we must never forget that our lives depend on what we do now. The bottom line is we live now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

Experience the happiness that life can give you by living each day at a time. Don't allow the pressures of yesterday ruin what you're supposed to enjoy today. When you allow the past to become part of your present, you won't be at your best in what ever you do now.

So the secret of retreating from regret is dedicating yourself to your present. Bad encounters do happen in life but we must realize that we are incapable of changing what has already occurred.

Tomorrow may never be ours. Sometimes we allow our minds to wonder about all the mishaps we've done in life. We grieve over the chances we've lost and predict that they'll make our future miserable. But what guarantee do we have that we will still be alive tomorrow?

Make your life simple and more productive by concentrating on what you're doing now. Make it your art to have fun in everything you do each day. Take away yesterday and tomorrow from your mind and totally place yourself in the present. By doing so, you will have more strength and passion to do your daily chores. Even simple duties like brushing your teeth will be performed with a lot of delight.

Removing regret from our lives allows us to enjoy the hobbies we hold dear to our hearts. It makes exercise enjoyable. It takes away the idea that we exercise to look good but instill in us the art of enjoying what we love. It motivates us to do things with passion, because yesterday and tomorrow are not there to pollute our thoughts with their worries. It frees us to be at our best each day. And it nourishes our hearts with an excitement that every new day comes with Divine freshness.

Take away regret from your life and be motivated as you enjoy the blessings of each day.

Keep the Faith

2011-02-23T14:48:00.010+13:00

"You tried many times but you keep failing."
Photo: Harold Maesulia.

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

You are stacked. There’s no single clue in solving the equation. You tried many times but you keep failing. You want to change that ill-mannered attitude, but your attempts always prove futile. You take the most travelled road trying to forget the down side part of your life, but comfort distances itself from you. In your quest to find a way out, you choose to give up because everything looks uncertain.

That’s a troubled person who has to put on a lot of courage to keep his feet on the ground.

Does it ever occur to you that prayer keeps one at peace when one is overwhelmed with the storms of life?

I found comfort saying a little prayer of help when I had my share of the storm of life.

It was a song which gave me the hope to at least smile when everything was looking uncertain.When we think that God is late in answering our prayers, the song says that he is just on time. His timing is not ours and we should persistantly keep the faith when we ask a favour from him because he knows just the best time to answer our prayers.

Thanks friends for helping me keep the faith.

Kind Regards,

Harold

An Emotional Story of Muana Primary School

2010-11-05T11:55:00.007+13:00

A view from Patuboma mountain looking across to
Kolomola village (behind the green hills)
Photos: Courtesy of Osborn Cains.

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

If you had a hard time feeding on a dry piece of cassava (a kind of local root crop) when you’re at boarding school, rethink the idea that that’s when one gets to experience life at its worse away from parents because that’s the very life of primary school children at Muana Primary School-a remote highland boarding school in the Hograno district of Santa Isabel, the longest island in the Solomon Islands.

Seven communities that sourced the school with children have to send their kids for boarding as early as pre-school as the distance of the school is stationed to be at the centre where all the communities will have equal walking distance to it.

Because of the distance, children are sent to be housed at the school throughout the week for classes. There they are subjected to be trained the hard way with an aim that appears to be a move to mold the children into independent individuals who’ll fear God and rely on hard work to earn a living.

Hicks Bule, whose late dad taught at the school when he was in Primary school and part of his secondary life, recalled his experiences at Muana in a moving story.

Life at Muana Primary School for children around the area started when they reach pre-school age. Sad and bitter as it sounds, they have to leave home and become part of a new life at a boarding school, undergoing discipline suggested to be of good to them.

Class 5 and 6 students are expected to be leaders and some are chosen as prefects to look after the little ones.

And looking after the flock of kids is as mandatory as being the one who must sleep close to the door so that whenever one wants to visit the Lo in the night, he or she will accompany him or her.

And apart from that they do have the duty of following a roster which they have to cook for the little ones in their different bush hats, which consist of children of the same community. Everyone is expected to be obedient and coming to church services is a must.

And so when Fridays come, lunch no longer finds a place in the minds of the children, because that’s the time they’re going home to spend the whole weekend with parents.

Some villages are well into the interior and one can get there by night fall if he or she starts from Muana at 1 pm.

But these robust kids sometimes travel in group of friends to meet their parents in their food gardens where they would travel home together later in the evening.

Spirit of Independence

A sight of a little kid armed with a bush knife bending down to trim the grasses in the huge school campus as part of a morning work session can wear you out of your imaginations. In fact, questions like, why does life has to be experienced at such an age which tender care and love should be offered at home by parents should have rightly toppled the rest, but one thing became eminent in the kids.

Hicks Bule, a living example
of Muana

When a group of mandated girls wake up at 5:30am on selected days to do a motu (a traditional food oven) for that day’s lunch, one can clearly pick out the spirit of self reliance from the innocent hearts who have to leave home at a young age in the name of classroom education.

When the Kaipito river floods and they have to cook using the dirty water to boil the Kumaras (sweet potatoes), a diet which appears to be what they have daily, perseverance can be clearly isolated from the young hearts.

Sometimes emotional stories of these kids finding their own way through the bushes along the river to find Kasume (a type of wild fern that can be eaten) to make an evening meal tasty can be too hearty to hear but strength and acts of self reliance are again shown in class there.

A spirited choir sprouted from the Muana green hills recently and earring oneself to these young voices will steer one’s soul in admiration. Innocent and childish as they are, the young hearts carry their innocence in the hymns that are perfectly curved by their unworn voices showing the Christian upbringing that they are mandated to bend themselves to.

Parents and Students

Children of Alualu village (one of the catchment areas of
Muanaschool) in the Farigae river.

It is easy to guess what a young age kid would feel like being away from parents and when it comes to the Muana kids, the scene on Wednesdays is an emotional one. That’s the day of the week when parents are allowed to bring food for their children. It’s sad to witness the departure of parents after delivering food, “the little children sometimes cling to their parents crying and sometimes its hard to console them as they watch their parents depart in tears,” recalled Hicks, who stayed at the school when his dad was a teacher there.

According to him, parents had a hard time thinking about their children, “At such a young age, you just don’t know what will happen to your kids.”

But what could be more inspirational as the heart of the parents, despite the pain they feel inside, the desire to see a future for their children cost them that step of faith to give their kids to the care of a place like Muana where a child is never too young to be taught like an adult.

The quest of good things in some areas, said Hicks, is a trade en route in style and comfort but when it comes to my area, it is difficult and overwhelming.

The 23 year medical student from Kolomola, one of the villages that is served by Muana, said that struggle is always part of their lives, but it has turned them into hardworking people.

So much has happened at Muana recently but it is still a boarding school.

Major changes like the addition of a secondary school at Muana is a mile stone which has been a benefit for the locals around the area. But perhaps the biggest milestone of all is seeing former Muanans ending up in tertiary institutions like Hicks Bule. It must be a great sigh of relief for the locals. Perhaps, parents of those who made it to that level, have at last acknowledged the role played by Mauana in the life of their children.

But on the other side of the coin, the silent cries of the little ones at Muana must not be forgotten. Perhaps the task for the current government is to ensure that these children have access to education close to their homes where they won’t be deprived of the daily loving care of their parents.+

Only if I had listened...

2010-09-17T11:28:00.025+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

"..he was groomed to read and write at the village school."

Author's note: The name used in this story is fictitious and any relation to any living person is coincidental. The author observes true experiences of a number of people and compiles them into a single story. Set in in his own local Malaitan village in the beautiful isles of Solomon Islands, it takes place with an imaginary family scene to herald what sometimes happens to local kids when they break free from the watchful eyes of their parents to attain higher education in distance schools. Its sole aim is for education and should be portrayed as such.

The sweaty break he had within minutes of gasping for breath, as if he's a frightened child yelling for dear life, told him that he is heading up that way again.

It’s been a rough 6 months. All these months life was nothing but half-filled plates of white rice and noodles, lonesome nights of aching empty stomachs, and days of swaying oneself to the tough school rules.

Surely those tribulations will now be put to rest for some refreshing 4 weeks for it’s yet another school break from the tiring secondary school life he's been carving himself to for the last 5 years. The way up the stiff bush track was once exciting to him as a child but now it is seemed like vinegar forced down his throat. The thought of his peers from school overrode the joy he once had for life in the village.

Everyone knew the green hills and have come to call it the “sweaty highway” for its steepness had in it litres of sweaty sessions because of the energy that must be shed before one gets home. Whether one likes it or not that's the only way to get to his highland habitat because truck-accessed road is not a fantasy there.

He was born and bred in Okwala, a highland village in central Malaita which is many miles from where he’s resting now. Even at the tender age of 5, with barely a thread on his body, he had walked his gut out yielding to life the way it is done up there and groomed to read and write at the village school before finding himself where he had just come back from.

Now 18, Leonard Maefasia (not his real name) had grown some muscles which he confidently offered to have them on show by half covering them with an sleeveless t-shirt. He cut the long sleeves off so that his biceps could enjoy the attention of others, which to him would be the young girls in the village. You should see how much effort he had put into developing those, from press-ups to lifting bricks at the school. He was determined as if that was going to be life for him.

When he set off for form one at Su’u National Secondary School in 2000, his tearful parents farewelled him with a hearty lecture loaded with stern warnings. Just as hard as seeing their only boy depart for boarding school, finding ways to keep him at school would certainly be a job they would sweat their guts out to attain. An old bare-footed gray haired man, bare-chested and sun tanned to a highly brown color came up to him and spoke softly into his right ear, “Son this is our investment for you, I will do all I can to find ways to earn money to keep your a-thousand dollar plus fee paid each year.”

He was childish when he set out from home, he cried bitterly like a helpless piece of ice in the steaming sun. The comfort he received from fellow roommates didn’t hit him with consolation. And it was a month long transition for the country boy as he found his way through the burden of missing home.

But succumbing to the might of puberty came with little notice and he easily found himself becoming drawn to peers of his age. They entertained themselves with topics to excite their vulnerable minds that they frequently butted heads with the school prefects.

Although he managed a few A grades during his early years in secondary school, something startling emerged and gripped Leo, shaking him to step on and put behind him the values he learned as a little kid. That was the day he thought to himself that the world was his and he could step off the barrier he is barred as a son in the village based on the newfound ideologies the light of classroom education handed him.

With the combination of modern thoughts peppered with some traditional lifestyles sprouted self-attained freedom for young Leo to explore on new talking habits.

In June 2004 the highlands of central Kwara’ae was unlucky. There was mud everywhere because rain has been falling for weeks.Not much had changed in the village though; you could still appreciate the intricate sky and flocks of morning birds singing noisily in the morning. But he had little appreciation for the quietness in the village. Because of his changed morals, he is no longer a fun little boy mom used to know, he now talks like a master and loves flirting with arguments that he always comes up a lot of bizzare ideas making himself look like a power-hungry prime minister on a sprawl trying to win the attention of parliament. His illiterate parents knew little of the fact that Leo is trying to tell everyone that education to him is better than the custom ways.

Dad's smoking pipe was used to be a piece of iron to Leo, but now when the gray haired old man smokes around him, he would get up and leave.

But dad’s world has never been any better. From sharing an evening joke with old village folks to working tirelessly like a busy ant alongside mom on the family food garden, he still remains the same happy old man well known to everyone as the joker who never goes without a smile on his face.

Mom’s no different either. She still wakes up at cockcrow to cook a pot of Kumara for everyone to break the night long fast with. And at around 7 am, she’d be off to church for morning devotion, comes back and sets everyone for the same old Kumara morning feed before hitting the road for another day at the garden.

Leo used to be a small boy who accompanies his two sisters after school to help his parents in the garden. But now he feels more grown up and thinks that he should be allowed to decide on what to do. His holiday job now starts at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. He would start off with a few press ups in his room to wake up his biceps, and then off he goes for an evening game of soccer.

Time for the family now tussles with his puberty-driven life.An exciting time for him now is a big gathering in the village like a Saint Day because nearby villagers would come and join the celebration. When the evening segment of the program is in progress, beardless Leo would be seen standing at the dark corners eyeing the young girls.

Standing alongside gray-haired old men like his dad is something he now dislikes becasue he thinks he is better looking than them.

Gradually, the much talked about charming attitudes Leo used to has as a kid didn’t catch the eyes of fellow villagers. From his ignorance of wise counsel from parents to being more close to the Maruana users of the village, he continues to be regarded as a good boy who decides to wreck his own life with the fantasies of life.

Four weeks passed and SIBC carried the service message for the return of students at Su’u. He received it with much excitement because finally he would be away from the watchful eyes of his parents. Childhood life was hard and he used to get it from his parents when he did something wrong but now that he has grown up, such moments are less frequent.

When the delight of returning to school glossed his mind like a colorful paint, news got home 2 days before departure, Agnes a girl in his class got pregnant and the Principal advised Leo not to return to school.

“Leo, what we’ve given you is supposed not to be given back to us. It’s yours to keep,” his dad regrouped himself to out pour his disappointment.

“I was so afraid to let anything happen to my one and only boy but in the course of doing so I just couldn’t bear seeing my dear son being engulfed by the pressures of a young man’s life. I had tried my best to offer counsel from my poor man’s seat, but the son born of my very own blood has already driven miles away to even lend me an ear. I’ve tried to catch you but the song of becoming a father has finally done so,” said the tearful daddy.

The shocked Leo felt as if nothing was there to hide his body. He might be thoughtless before but that day something punctuated his life with regret for being stubborn.

His life now will be the norm he mastered during childhood. The dream of becoming a journalist now rests in the gutter. He will now work hard to earn a living. He felt as if he has operated a machine without reading the manufacturer's manual.

Now when sweat comes from trekking the hills finding his luck to grow something in the gardens, he knows too well that the load will be doubled because someone else is there for him to support.

He knows too well now that he is no longer single and that life is now on the serious part.

The thought of being a father as a teenager brought tears to his eyes. The tears felt more bitter than those he had when he first left home for Su’u.

“Only if I had listened at the first place, I wouldn't be sitting here crying!”

Special thanks to Jane Kanas for editing part of the story.

A Reason for Fiji to Smile Some More

2010-09-13T10:24:00.005+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

Smile some more Fiji:Maesulia.

When the recent economic recess griped the entire world with alarm bells, Fiji found no way through the exit as everyone else and had to braze itself with the naked reality. Among other concerns, the 12% devaluation of the Fijian dollar took many by storm with well-known complains of rocketing prices in shops and markets. I rightly had this perception when I first came here in 2008 that things are way too developed over here compared to the easy and laid back life we have in the Solomon Islands and so I wasn’t at all at ease to swallow what I heard of the struggling life here.

When I stepped out of my first flight at Nadi International Airport, I was succumbed to the idea of keeping a tied lip about the range of new things I was about to discover then, let alone my eyes and mind to take stock of what would be new for me then that I must sway myself to know and get used to.

I was silently amused even when making my way to the arrivals’ section for some of the things I have only come to see and know of from movies came live to me then. And so the journey to Suva was an exciting 30 minutes flight through Nausori which added such an adventurous story to my first ever experience here.

A peaceful evening walk along Suva’s famous sea wall is as rewarding as any stress buster you may think of that is needed to unwind one from a hard day at work. Despite its close proximity to the noisy traffic of roaring vehicles, a sight of a colorful sunset over the peaceful Suva harbor overwhelms all that heft bringing me close to my rural life where tranquility is so absorbed in the nature around that peace is the closest feeling to come by.

And with strings I had gotten from the affection I received from people’s hospitality, I was driven to tie a knot between the beautiful local scenery and hospitality, arriving at a realization that Fiji is an exciting place for a first year medical student to kick off his studies.

Stationed on a hill top, the Fiji School of Medicine to some extent is a smaller version of USP consisting of students from all over the Pacific. I had my real experience with local students there from which I later went on to explore more.

I had a hard time fitting in at first because the way of life here to me is on a different bar from ours.

My biggest struggle at first was trying to get in the flow with everyone else. While English remained a barrier for me then communication wise, I found a lot of finger-biting moments going on being around my foreign friends because I hate being portrayed differently when we’re out having a pizza or to see the latest movie.

Thank God, the environment was so conducive that I found a quick come back during the next few months which I did comfortably.

When I want a fast ride downtown, cabs are accessible just minutes from my hostel but when the ego of going at my own pace overwhelms my student mind, I shout to myself, “what the heck!” and enjoy a slow ride on a typical Suva bus to get glossaries from MHCC supermarket.

The luxury of shopping is an activity I think shoppers would die for in Suva. Although I’m not a stylish shopper, I found a lot of well stocked shops here that anyone with the money can attain a good value for his bucks. I however, had a terrific time even when sticking with the low-standard shops for clothes and food.

You would be surprised to discover that the many amenities you people are having here at ease is a comfort most of us back home only had through so much sweat.

And if you ever get to Honiara, our capital city, you’d be surprised to realize that electricity doesn’t get anywhere further from the bounds of the International airport, which is just about 20 minutes ride from the town center.

Life in the Solomons is simple yet challenging. Without the luxury of road facilities, power and other modern amenities, 80% of the population lives in the rural areas and thrives on their skills to fish and farm to keep their heads above the water. Difficult life in some areas like my highland village, which to this day is yet to be accessed by road facility, is as hard as getting stuffs from shops in town over the shoulder up the stiff hills through thick rain forests. And with an ailing economy, a 20kg bag of rice is around $200 plus.

If a rural Solomon Islander can find peace enjoying the comfort of a traditionally thatched house after a hectic day in the farm, you people should be happier for some of the effort we put into all these to you is replaced with technology. If we can come away with a smile at the end of the day having gone through the flame of mind boggling inflation, you people should be steady and accept the little changes on the ground.

That’s why Fiji should smile because challenge here is still comfort in some areas.

When Culture Becomes a Barrier: Selu Maezama

2010-09-10T10:15:00.005+12:00

Selu Maezama
Photo:Solomon Times.

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

Everyone has a downside in life.But it is advisable not to dwell on your weaker side of life when you want to make that leap in life. The feeling you'll get if you do so is discouragement. That brought to my mind one question, should I point someone in the eye to tell him his wrongs? I guess no because I might be worse in some aspects compared to him.

I always believe that. But there is one exception. When the old talk some sense into me for doing wrong, I prefer to listen than giggle. I believe that the old knows too well the experiences on this journey and they should be well armed to focus on what we should expect in this life.

My perception of Solomon Islands scholarship officers was never given this insight until yesterday when the director of the National Training Unit (NTU) Selu Maezama, gave an eye opening counsel on his visit to the Solomon students at the Fiji School of Medicine.

The soft speaking man from Western Province has never shown such a class in any of his meetings I’ve attended and while I listened attentively during his explanation of SIG’s role in the local scholarships, his take of what the role of students in the cycle was the portion that took me by storm.

Personally it was a hit in the heart and I would say that it was one of the inspirational thoughts I’ve ever received since coming here.

It was short, simple but straight to the mark. Blended with his English style of pidgin, he spoke of cultural changes.

From what I perceived of his talk, culture to him means the way you do things on a daily basis. And it makes you the person you're and people around you understands you by it because that's your way of life. He opened the door for us to realize that sometimes people change their in-built morals when they're exposed to a new environment, bringing along new found cultures which always doesn't cling in well with the way life is supposed to flow for them. I arrived at the point with him when he got there and I realized that his lesson was, sometimes the little attitudes that we call life to us are the very things that will stand in our way from attaining what we're supposed to in life. Ranging from little concern for time management to over socializing, he added with jokes that student life can sometimes ends in turmoil if one fails to realize the need to prioritize wants from needs.

Life at University especially here in Fiji could almost not equal what is in your mind if you’ve never been here or never told an honest story of life in a city like Suva.

While it is nonsense to dwell on what is honestly everyone’s personal issue, the blindness that comes with these endeavours is what I’d like to acknowledge Mr.Selu for. He somehow opened my eyes to see somewhat clearer.

When I personally take the merry ride, enjoying the view and all the splendour that surrounds me, Selu’s words came just in time to tell me of my humble calling and that is to stand up and take stock of the long gone song sung to me by someone I forgot. When he tried to elaborate on his point, the song came fresh to my mind that every move I make here is supposed to be a leap to take me closer to the point of standing in the place of someone who is holding the post of my dreams, but who is now old and needed a lift.

I was thinking at the end of the short session, what is there within me that can possibly become a block in barring me from aspiring any further? And if you're reading this, what is yours? What could be more rewarding like a look into our own lives as individuals? Sometimes what you fail to spot in your life can be clearly picked out by a neighbour and that's why I was grateful for Selu's advice. But change, why is it necessary? Perhaps the change we are going to make now is going to be a life safer for someone in the future. So don't give into the second thought when there is a must for you to make that much needed change in your life.

The Passion for Music in the Happy Isles

2010-08-17T15:11:00.012+12:00

One Tox- Solomon Islands' well known RNB band.

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

I've seen Radio Australia's Pacific Break Competition as another step on which our home grown artists can stand to portray their music, and perhaps our passion for music, to the world out there.

Solomon Islands has recently been through a lot. The ordeal brought about by the ethnic tension in the late 90s crippled most of the income-earning sectors of our beloved nation. Sadly, we're economically wrecked. On the other hand, the good name we used to have was tarnished. And from the "hapi isles" we were dubbed by others as the "troubled isles".

But amidst these troubles, two aspects of life that many seem to hold dear to their hearts continue to thrive. To many it's their way of life and I can't imagine a Solomon Islander without these two-soccer and music.

The following that our local music is having both locally and regionally is tremendous. Our local hit songs are no strangers to cities like Port Morsbey and Suva.

Sharzy is one of the local stars who gain stardom in PNG over the years. Recently, Kekene plus other bands in the likes of One Tox and the stylish Door Man's Project a.k.a DMP stamped their own names in the music industry of the neighbouring nation.

Culturally, Solomon Islands is a diverse country. The chain of archipelago houses Melanesians, Micronesians and even Polynesians. The diversity interestingly comes with some unique ways of making music. The most famous is the renowned traditional bamboo bands which uses bamboos to produce music. Some local groups who master this art have recently acclaimed international firm taking their music to nearby countries and as far as Europe.

But how did modern music start in the islands? Western-influenced music started a humble journey in the 60s. It was born as "local string bands." Inspired by country pioneers like Hank Williams, String band pioneers like Fred Maedola produce songs in pidgin and the local languages. With his guitar, he went on to make a name for himself in PNG and the New Hebrides now called Vanuatu.

The trend developed interestingly. One of the interesting twist was Tom Stranger's take of Charlie Bright's style of singing.

With the emergence of modern musical instruments, music then took another turn in the islands. Aspired to reflect their international idols, many local artists came up with rock n roll records which became big hits among the locals.

The evidence of what has started long ago is showing today. Every time I listen to a melodious local tune on the local radio stations, I marvel at the amazing talents some of these locals have. With the aid of technology, some artists are creating for themselves new names. Today songs from Santa Isabel are hitting the airwaves in style. People dance to their beat to celebrate events. And even on islands like Malaita, you'll get to see people who find it pleasurable listening to the "Gema" hits while having a cold beer.

Like soccer, music has a way of uniting the people. When a favourite band plays in town, people will flock the concert in numbers to watch it live. Music appears to be part of people's lives. Some love to knock the day off armed with a guitar and a song on their lips while the sun beautifully sets behind the horizon. On public buses, local songs can be heard playing. While in the rural villages, even the kids can be heard singing along to the words of the latest local song on the airwaves-thanks to the promotion these songs are getting from our local FM stations.

You have to come to the Solomons to experience this passion.

A Lesson from Friends

2010-06-14T20:53:00.013+12:00

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

I must honestly declare that a big portion of the meaning of my life comes not from me. If I could numerically rate it, an honest 99.9% of the peace of mind, comfort and joy that I enjoy each day are from the living fountain that springs from God and my beloved devoted friends.

When I recently rambled under one of my life’s terrible situations, the feeling I got when my friends didn’t manage to recognize my state (which is so much my own fault for not informing them) was so degrading that I hooked myself up in bed almost for a whole day skipping breakfast and lunch because the feeling of loneliness had overwhelmed me with bad thoughts that I had no craving whatsoever for anything I use to regard as good.

Everyone has, somewhere down the line, a place where even the usual smile that use to bring you delight won’t give you that free giveaway.

I hated myself and remembered writing offensively to describe myself in my journal. The bitterest thing that I’d do as person is to hate someone and be a bad impression.
A recently almost knocked my friends over to the enemy’s camp after an action that hold nothing close to things which should bind friends together.

I woke up the next morning feeling a great rush of guilt flowing through my veins as if I was alone on an island. I shed bitter tears cos that to me was our parting time. I felt that I was such a bad person, for I did things without thinking about how they’ll affect my neighbors. So locking me indoors for a whole day was an option I chose.

I didn’t know if my friends could ever talk to me anymore, but I remember praying for a soft heart so that they’d realize that I am just a human and that I can make it up to them if given another chance.

Facebook was my point of going out into the world then. Some of my friends came across weird looking notes on my page and inquired what I was up to. I held back a lot cos I didn’t want to speculate that much but I was up with lots of “what the hell is wrong with me” and all these to beautify my facebook page.

It was two days after going around with that feeling that an action from one of my friends, one of which I thought I hurt, changed my world altogether. It was dinner time and as I walked in he was sitting alone on a table. I saw him but pretended as if I didn’t notice his presence. But as I proceeded to be served, he shouted my name and I noticed that he was giving me a smile. I went over ashamed with a kid-looking smile to shake his hand. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m good!” said I as I started to feel forgiveness coming from my friend a thing which I thought would be shared by the others.

I apologised to my friends afterwards for being a nausiance.

Well why the hell am I telling you all these? I got a feeling that learning is the best weapon if you want to be good at something.

We can't be always perfect and it doesn't need a very long time for anything ill in nature to sprout up to swallow the cordial relationship you have with someone, whether it be sexual or just a friend friend kind of relationship, the one which I'm talking about here.

You won't really get the whole picture of what I'm talking about until you feel as if you've screwded up everything that you won't be of any matter to anyone. Cos only then will you acknowledge the fact that friends will always be friends and we need them to give us reasons to stay around.

I'll advise you to give way for consideration as a friend. Think of what you're going to do before even doing it. Is it gonna be healthy for you and your friends? Keep in mind that the legacy behind your deeds is what will affect you the most. So don't always go for short term amusements.

From the side of my very loyal friends, we should learn to take home the message that humans are all bound to make mistakes and we need to bend with the weather if keeping a good relationship is a goal.

That's why it's worth having friends and keeping them. If you're yet to find any, start looking for means to make some.

Life is complete when you have people around you to get you going with life.

Find Your Shoulder to Cry On

2010-06-02T13:29:00.012+12:00

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

Neither the looks nor the age that life gives us will deny us from the right of becoming special to someone.

People who are special to you will take time to cry with you when you are down. When you are sick, they'll come down to your very self and experience the pain with you.

When the road you're walking seems to have no where else to turn, they'll come to your aid and give you that much needed lift to see just where the narrow road surfaced.

When giving up becomes the nearest option to lip, they'll stop by to cheer you up with words to give you reasons to try some more.

When your world turns to boredom, they'll enlighten you with laughter just to forget the whole lot of mess in life.

That special one can be a brother, a sister, a friend (which doesn't necessarily have to be someone of the opposite sex) or even a total stranger whom you've just met but actually converted him or her into a best friend and that doesn't leave out those who sought help from their soul mates.

Find that special one today and help motivate yourself to an enjoyable life.

Picture: Courtesy of http://www.usefilm.com/image/1354430.html

Show the Love

2010-05-31T15:07:00.011+12:00

Post written by Harold Maesulia. Follow me on twitter.

Take time to ponder upon the possibility of you becoming a relief to those around you and start making people's day today.

You need not to be a huge influential person to make someone happy. Instead, all you need is the naturally in-built personality that you have within you.

We don't have the same personalities as human beings, which should be a bonus anyways, because it makes the job of offering assistance such an amazing and rewarding one.

Enlighten a downhearted friend with kind words. If he or she is low in spirit, reveal to him or her the very exciting parts of her life.

For the unfortunate, share with them what you have that they don't. Make them feel comfortable with the power of sharing.

Everyone gets his or her turn in life to be ill. That's why we must not wait to be summoned before we act. Get in contact with your friends and know how they're doing cos in that way you'll get to rule out the arrival of illness at their door step. For a sick friend, even a cool piece of towel applied with sincerity on the forehead to curb a severe head ache is enough to tell him or her that you care.

I did this to a friend recently who was in an acute fibril attract, and felt rewarded when he actually thanked me with wet eyes for leaving my studies behind and got him to the hospital after cooling him off with just a cool piece of cloth to lower his very high temperature.

I'm not a perfect person and I'm not preaching out the message either that I do great stuffs than anybody. But I hope my mind wondering has seen some insights of how we should share the love in this cruel world.

Those thoughts are there as guidelines for you and me to search some more for those who may still be needing our assistance.

Picture: Courtesy of http://paulandsherimcwilliams.com/page/2/

Realize the Worth of Your Life’s Basics and be Happy

2010-05-21T11:21:00.007+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on Twitter.

Like they use to say

You never MISS the water till the well runs dry,

I got to find some real sense in that a few weeks back.

Many unfortunate encounters in life come with the string of regret. Triggered by the sense of losing what is dear to one’s heart is so much a pain that some resort to punish themselves for being careless.

I’ve recently broken part of my sandwich maker while trying to have it wiped after trying my luck with the art of arriving at a delicious sandwich piece to dump my mouth-watering hunger.

I didn’t put on my eye glasses then, and I should be blamed for that. When I attempted a reach into the sink to moisten the sponge to clean the surface of my 2 year old sandwich maker, I falsely perceived a fizz- looking flash coming towards me, which probably just the unwelcome bizarre encounters of my myopic eyes.

I jumped defensively to try and take my stand but the next thing I knew was that the sandwich maker had slipped off my hands and found itself on the floor tattered with a broken leg.

I was devastated for I’ve just damaged one of my utensils which I’ve been using since buying it 2 years ago to help me taste the makings of my own hands the very way I like them.

I always disregard the talk others use to tell me, “you got a nice sandwich maker” thinking that it was merely something to make me feel happy.

Although I did thank people who actually confess me owning a nice sandwich maker, I gave little attention to that fact, thinking that because of its cheap price (FD$29.95), others, which could do a better job, are still out there.

But my narrow mindedness was given a window to appreciate the horizon when I held a partly damaged sandwich maker in my hands. I thought to myself “had I truly content with the work my piece of machine has been doing for me all these two years, I wouldn’t be this devastated cos by then I would be satisfied with the tremendous work it has been doing.”

My injured sandwich maker taught me a lesion. And that is to be content and make use of what I have in hand now. Perhaps something important on top of that is to realize the worth of whatever I have in life.

It wasn’t totally out of order. It can still do the same work of what others are doing but the problem is, it can’t stand stably cos one of its legs, or whatever you’d like to call it, was disabled during the fall.

If there’s a surgery-like shop somewhere where my beloved S.Maker can be given another hope of standing a stable stand, I’ll go for it. But the topic of contentment hits me again when thinking of it. I have to enjoy the well now while it is still full.

Reliving the Advice of Zenhabits

2010-05-13T15:43:00.002+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on Twitter

Inspired by an article by Zenhabits, I want to write a short piece today just to admit the trueness of Leo Babauta's words that "even the most motivated of us — you, me, Tony Robbins — can feel unmotivated at times."

I crippled myself lately with an exam result which I thought was a direct slap on my face for I've prepared well (at least for the very first time for a summative paper in the last 3 years) and on top of that the paper was one of the first straight-forward ones I've ever come across.

Leo's words hit me in spirit after walking around down hearted for the last few days trying to reason what else to do to pick myself up.

If Zenhabit's advice is the one I'll come by, which I want to, I'm so gonna try my very best to give my self time to try and try some more.

If you're in the same boat as me, I'll advice you to keep reminding yourself of human's proneness to failure and try to boast yourself with all the positive things.

Have time to talk to others and resort to sound advice from people you think will help ease your broken heart. I'd love to hear from you. Whether you want to drop by with an advice to inspire me or talk over something, I can be contacted on this address iroasi86@gmail.com

Andrew's Reason for Clinging to Music

2010-05-13T10:52:00.020+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on Twitter. Music must be something of some worth, because had it not for that, the sick Andrew Tahunimake won’t be devoting his not-so-enough spare time finding his niche in the move of mastering it.

He may look like an amateur, but to him, it’s a level he only dreamed of reaching way back in the glorious past.

I wrote an article about his heart problem last year. What I found as tattering in nature appears not to after seeing him getting along with life as excited as ever with the very things he hold dear to his heart.

An excited hobby which started with him as a young rural villager in Kiu, a coastal village in West Are ‘are on Malaita, took him with passion. He started as an observer in church, but craving made him jumped to have his own fingers on his life’s fantasy, “the keyboard.”

As relayed by him, it was the embarrassment of getting it from the old that boosted his moral in opting for a chance to be known. And through so much trying, he was rewarded with recognition to entail his hobby in church as one of the musical instrument players.

He practised on his own or better said, self-taught. Like many Solomon Islanders, he plays by listening to the tune and then regroups the whole piece to pick his way through with the cords. To practise in a typical rural Solomon setting like his, is to buy batteries, get the keyboard working, and have the fingers rolling to try and mimic the sound of a song.

When the time came for him to leave home in search for education as a secondary year student, Andrew's love for music initially seemed not to be quite visible which guessingly could be a brain washed negligence of those of us around him back then who had pinned him with a kid with not-much-to-watch-out-for from the little pidgin that he spoke then. "I started learning pidgin when I came to live with my uncle in Honiara as a student of Florence Young Christian School," revealed Andrew as he flashed back on the memories of those enjoyable years of his adolescence.

The time for his gifts to sprout came at the surprise of many.“We were in KG VI School in 2008 and there was this Christian group who came outreaching at the school. Andrew shocked us when he went up, took on his position besides the keyboard and got it goin'," said Rolland Niu, one of his fellow classmates who only came to know of his keyboarding skills at that time.

Coming to Fiji turned out to be an icing on the cake for the young radiographic student. My uncle showed me some Fruity loops tips (a software for creating musical sounds) way back in High school and when I showed him the basics of going about how to create a song, Andrew, who by then just started learning the basics of computing, got hold of them and flew away beyond my reach.

I came to find him one day only to be stunned. He had learned so much that he seemed to outclassed my somewhat simple yet unsophisticated tutorial creating sounds that even I couldn't able to make up a mind to create.He surprised me with his version of Leona Lewis’ famous “Better in Time”, which to this day had comfortably find a place in my laptop for my most loved evening sing alongs.

For the 22 year old with a not so healthy heart valves, what is keeping him at bay? Well the smiles he wears each day is not so a sign of a person with problems to the body’s most vital organ. But I queried him to find out what keeps him moving with music.

“I don’t really know how to explain it, but music to me is peace, it gives me comfort and it just makes me feel good- a feeling I don’t know how to explain,” said an emotional Andrew who seemed to show signs of strong-mindedness from the battle he is fighting inside as a cardiac patient.

He owed a lot of thanks to people who’ve shared the excitement of inspiring him to try out keyboarding. “I love piano, the sound is so good even when I first heard it…there’s this guy in our village whose love for the keyboard had sort of inspired me to imitate him.”

But the trying Tahunimake makes way for honesty and hid nothing when I asked him what areas he still needs to pull his socks up on.

“I think country and classic are my areas to work on,” said Andrew who plans to try his best to become a good keyboard player of the two in the near future.

For the music lover, his health is still a priority although much is personally done to try and have his mind concentrate on the good side of things. “I appeared good to many people aye? But I’m trying my very best each day to live that way cos I want to be happy instead of spending time worrying about my heart problem.

“I’m still scared to think of going under the knife one day, but according to the doctor, I’m still healthy to live without surgery for another 10 years so while that is coming, I’ll spend today living happily,” said Tahunimake.

Well can we say Andrew is breaking new grounds? Some would say he only can if his love for music reaches the four corners of Solomon Islands like the home grown Wantoks band. I would say otherwise because to me, he’s a golden example of how finding your passion in the things you love will drive you in the right path.

He may not sound like an expert, but the little he is using to turn his sick world upside down is a lesson we should take home. Find your true passion cos you may never know how it’ll heal your inner being.

My Mum Still Matters

2010-05-10T15:10:00.013+12:00

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This post may have come a little late than expected but it has in no way equal its lateness.

I woke up on Sunday feeling the need to talk to my beloved mum but the inconvenience of inaccessibility communication wise has denied me the right to do so.

I however, remembered my mum silently in a reflective way that got me thinking what I must do to repay all the hard work she has done to see me this far.

Dad has an influence in my life too but since this is mother's day I give mum the chance today.

My mum is an absolute delight. I grew up under her loving wings to experience how to love and be loved.

Her childhood was a sad tale. She narrated how things had inconveniently happened pushing her and the siblings to the limit of staying under a single parent roof.

" I grew up under a tense environment...I learned to act when told because my father was a strick person and resorting to getting you wiped was the first option. So we avoided it by being obedient," said mum one day as she pushed us to realize why we should comfortably take advantage of our relaxed environment (with not so much wipes to come by) to listen to the good counsel of her and dad.

Mum's words entered my childish brain way back then only to exit the next moment. I realized their importance not until I had my proper thinking caps on, but by then lots of avoidable traps got me already.

If there is going to be anything I'd tell mum today, it's going to be a huge sorry. I heard from her in person that I'm her favourite which however doesn't put me in any position to over run the right of my siblings to as well call her mum.

Mum, your expectations from me are not always lived up to, that's why I'm wearing my true-self coat today to tell you that in spite of whatever you're always dear to me.

No one can't substitute your place in my heart and I know you'll always remain deep within no matter what happens.

When the world turns against me, you're next to God. How deserted sometimes I become when you're so far away for me to hear from you.

You're comforting and loving and I wouldn't trade you for anything else-no, no, not even money.

On such a special day like this I'll pray for you to have strength to keep keeping on the good fight. Mum you still matters in my life.

Your dearest son,

Harold

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Photo: My mum and grandpa (dad's uncle). Copyright©2010, Harold.

A War Lession at Ghaobata

2010-05-05T16:43:00.022+12:00

By Harold Maesulia. Follow me on Twitter.
I never grew up in Honiara, but at the age of 11 towards the end of my staggering primary years, my father decided to have us moved to Honiara for a reason which I think was a way to forget the sad death of my older sister who died a teen ager in 1996.

We settled in an outskirt community behind Honiara where my father had engaged an uncle to build a three bedroom house for us while we were still on Malaita.

My father was a primary school teacher and although I pretty much hate it, he was never stationary and year after year we would be toasted here and there in different villages just to allow him to do his work.

When we came to Honiara in 1997, the trend continued unstoppably. Although that wasn't new, I had a hard time chewing it because Guadalcanal would never be Malaita and I need a lot of adapting at that time cos even pidgin was still a tongue twister for the country boy who spent all his childhood years grazing with the Kwara’ae language.

My father’s first Guadalcanal post was at Ghaobata Primary School-a 10 minutes drive towards the sea away from the then CDC 1 SIPL substation now called GIPPOL 1.

Isolated and laid back as it was, I came to learn of what to expect from my dad before we moved in for he went there by himself during the first few days to see where we’d be staying.

Getting to bath from the well wasn't a strange thing at all cos we were forewarned by dad. And it took no time at all for us to be acquainted. We mastered the art of pumping water from the ditch to keep life going for the family in just days-a trade which we all shared enthusiastically as a family.

The school lies beside the flowing Ngalibiu River and is home to students from the surrounding grass covered areas as far as Koli Point.

The Guadalcanal planes gave birth to a wonderful piece of flat landscape for the well arranged Guadalcanal school. As we drove into the school’s green driveway on our first day, the piece of cement housed by a locally thatched roof besides the road snapped my attention.

What possibly that could be was my adventurous thought. It was not long when dad offered us that much needed orientation.

“This school had sprouted from the American’s World War II base,” said dad as we entered a galvanized-covered house, which looks to be tattering in age and looks but which would be ours for the whole of 1998.

I missed my rural Malaitan life already but childhood ego got me into discovering and it was from there that I came to know the story of the big piece of cement that stunned me earlier.

A close gaze saw two openings beneath the platform which then was merely a store of coconut husks and a breeding place for mosquitoes. It wasn't at all anything of little significant, although my childish mind then wasn't able to come to that term.

As we piped inside, someone told me that it’s an underground hideout for US soldiers back in the war days when they were in full force securing their airfield known as Koli Field just across the road but which by then was overgrown by grasses already.

As I piped over, a half cylindrical wear out steel depicting something like a house,which seemed to stand all the tests of times, remained upright among the swaying grasses in the cool welcoming Galekana (pidgin version of Guadalcanal) breeze.

Small strips of butamen marking the Koli field could still be visualized back then and while it stood there aimless and seemingly unworthy to most, its treasure was made known to me one day by an adventurous tourist. He came on a bike to the school and requested my dad if he could take a look at the field which seemed to stress as far as Koli point where the sea was.

We followed him noisily as he enjoyed a ride through the beautiful grassland much to our innocent delight.

According to history the airfield was built for b-24 Liberator heavy boomer operations, primarily by the Thirteen Airforce. The single strip run approximately NE to SW (parallel to Carney Airfield) and had several taxi ways off both sides. Surfaced by butamen with metal, Marsden Matting-like material for heavy aircraft it was completed in the middle of 1943 and was an added aid to America's campaign against the Japanese on Guadalcanal.

When we left at the end of the year, my childish mind was happy to escape the weird environment where not much was happening around to entertain a growing child. But now when I look back into history, I am more than glad to have a little bit of taste of what WW II remains look like.

I’ve slept on the very concretes laid by the 1940 soldiers (remember the school houses were just built on top of the original WW II concrete slaps. Not much has been done to change their shapes and sizes) and had come to see some of their neglected aminations which then were obtainable in the coconut plantations.

Whether Ghaobata has seen some sort of changes lately or not is but a thing which is beyond my reach to confirm now. I however wonder whether the locals in the area have ever taken any steps to preserve the historical sites for the future children to see because that's history in a making!

Photos: Top:Courtesy of Guadalcanal.com Above: Koli field today. Photo courtesy of http://guadalcanal.homestead.com/index.html