I can do this. 

I’ve been back in Auki just over a week now and I can honestly say that this has been a trying time. I just cannot seem to catch a break. Despite this I have amazed myself at how choosing, yes choosing, to remain calm and cheerful despite everything really works. 
Except for Saturday night.
Saturday night, I may have sat in the dark, partaking in what can only be described as a snot dribbling, pathetic whaling interspersed with some (mildish) expletives before returning to a few gasping chokes for air whilst shaking my fists in the air. I realise that the picture I am painting is that of an inebriated drunkard lunatic but I lost my resolve after only one drink. 
So this is how my week panned out. I feel I need to share this with you. 
After returning from a fabulous trip to Hong Kong and China with my sister I got the boat back to Auki. This was the first sign that maybe everything was not going to go to plan. The boat left, hot and crowded as usual and I settled in for the 4 hour journey. After 2 hours we sidled alongside a heavily listing COSTCO, obviously having got its self in dire straits over night. The boat was packed and a mere five times bigger than ours. I watch in horror as every passenger leapt aboard, cramming themselves into the already confined space. An hour later, we set off at a snail’s pace on a heavy tilt, leaving a ghost ship behind. 

Here is the message I sent my friends in Honiara should they never hear from me again.
Six hours later, hot, sweaty and little stressed but alive (yay), I arrived in Auki. I was excited. I was moving into my new house. This was to be a new start, an adventure to make up for my lack of company. I had arranged for a truck and some strong strapping lads from the hospital to come and assist. The road I was moving up was a long, steep, bumpy road which needed a high clearance four-wheel drive. They sent me an old man and a decrepit truck. I quickly decided that there was no way this man nor this truck was going to get me up the hill alive. I thanked him and assured him I knew some people, who knew some people who would help me. I didn’t. So, over the next two hours, on a hot and humid day, I carted 2 big suitcases and three heavy boxes up the steep, steep, long hill chanting to myself the whole time:

 “I am an independent woman”

“You are not alone” 

“You could have got help if you needed it”

 “You put yourself in this position”

“You choose to do this”. 

And do it I did. I could barely move the next day, but do it, I did.
I discovered a bottle of Sav Blanc left to me by my lost friends, slipped it in the fridge and began to unpack. I was not going to let the fact that the house had not been cleaned get me down, I was not going to let the fact that all the bedding was missing get me down, I was not going to let the fact that half the kitchen utensils and pans had disappeared get me down nor that the TV was broken, the fan had gone, and the umbrellas’ vanished. I had a fridge. I had an oven, I had a shower. I could make tea in my underwear, sip gin on my balcony, bake bread and leave my washing up. This was it. This was life
When the electricity ran out, I did not break. When I realised my only water supply was the rain tank outside, I did not break. When I was told the gas bottle had been stolen I did not break. Even as I opened the chilled bottle of wine to discover it had been drunk and filled with water, I did not break. As I sat by candle light eating a tin of tuna, listening to the chirping insects and children laughing, watching the sun as it set over the ocean I thought “why would this break me? It is perfect”. 
I actually really enjoyed my first weekend. I lived the simple life. I ate a raw, vegan diet, showering in the rainwater outside, carrying buckets too and fro, lazing in the hammock reading my book and by night doing a jigsaw whilst listening to Christianity FM (it’s all I got) on the wireless. Life was still pretty good. 
 I now have a new found sympathy for those who are regularly late for work. In a world without a postal service or internet banking, paying your bills is not an easy feat. Nobody, but nobody has a credit card. We are cash and cheque (remember those) transactions only thank you. I need to cue for hours in the bank just to pay my rent, the same in Solomon Water to pay my water bill. For my electricity I need to give money to the nice lady at the Solomon Power shop which then gets sent to Honiara, who generates a code, which is then sent back to Solomon Power in Auki, where I need to collect it before I can put it in the meter and hey presto! Power! My gas, I found a man who can: delivered and chained where hopefully it shall stay. I am on it and sorting it, although I am always at least an hour late for work. Solomon Time.

Work is going great and I have enjoyed coming back after the Christmas period. I am the only one mind you. The rest of my office is still on leave and will be till February. I have big plans. We are planning to re-launch the Staff development office as “The Knowledge Lab” with a funky new logo and, funding depending, a little lick of paint to remove the depressing tobacco stained hue which clings to the walls.

I just want to get everyone online and learning. How hard can this be? I am astounded that this was my plan 6 months ago and I have been busy, yet achieved nothing, not a thing, nada. We plan to hold a research symposium, competitions, challenges, run incentives, showcase courses, recruit education link nurses and start a reading/discussion group as well as producing 4 learning sessions and two skills workshops a month. I say we. If there was anyone else here, I’m sure they would love to be involved. Wouldn’t they?
I have an ant obsession. Ants are everywhere, ants are in everything. Nasty tiny little biting ants: in my tea, on my toast, in my bed, on my knife, up the walls, in the bin, on the self, by the sink, in my pants, on my towel, in my bra. Arrgggghhh!!
I digress. So, despite the ants, the bills, the lost things, the broken things, no friends, no colleagues, what was it that reduced me to an unhinged, babbling nutcase?
Somebody has been coming into my house and taking my things, somebody who likes to smoke cigars and drink rum. I sometimes wonder if I am going mad. I brought some cigars back for a friend. I’m sure I left them on the windowsill but maybe I’m mistaken? Maybe I’ve put them somewhere else. But I’ve search high and low. Where can they be? I have a tin of tuna in the cupboard which I’ll have for dinner. Or at least I thought I did? In fact, I’m sure I did. But I can’t find it. Where are the chocolate cookies I bought for today’s meeting? Now, I definitely know that I had a bottle of spiced rum. Didn’t I? Who drank all the Gin? Did I? Now, I know what you’re your thinking so before you even ask, the answer is no! I definitely did not drink it all myself, pass out and forget. I didn’t. 
Maybe I should be grateful that they are not taking my laptop or that I don’t feel in any danger but it’s the violation of my privacy. Somebody is watching me. I realise that it is a strong statement and maybe I’m being a little over dramatic. I can’t complain too much or too loudly as people don’t seem to think it’s such a big thing here. If you have stuff, people will take it. Fact.  The last thing I want to do is behave like the spoilt child who got her toys stolen so I shrug my shoulders and pretend that I’m ok. 

Maybe I’m a little ashamed that after I had managed to stay so strong it was the missing bottle of rum that broke me. But I want to stamp my feet and shout: 

It Is Just Not Fair!

Today is Monday. I have had new locks fitted and there is no more alcohol or cigars left to be taken. It is a new week, new me. I will not let this break me (again). I still have my fridge, my freezer, my oven and my shower. I have planted herbs, started sprouting beans and filleted my first fish (don’t ask). I can still make breakfast in my underwear, laze in my hammock and watch the sunset over the ocean every night (unfortunately without the gin). Next week I’m hoping to get a pet pig. 

Everything is going to be OK.