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The Real Estate Client
A Tale Of Two Islands(Part 1 of Two)
James Patton, CRS
A Long Time Ago, On an Island Far, Far
Away,
The Solomon Islanders,
In The Remote Solomon Islands Sea, Named An Island For James...
Here's What Happened.
"James Island" is a very small, formerly nameless island.
It's a few hundred yards from Kennedy Island of PT 109 fame in the endless Solomon Islands Sea. The story began in 1979, when I asked a simple question of a friend, Nikolo Kuriti. I had met Nikolo in Honiara, the capitol city of the Solomon Islands. By arrangement, I sailed from Guadalcanal to the very distant port city of Gizo and re-connected with Nikolo who had gone ahead. We were now en route on a commercial vessel to Nikolo's home island to spend the Christmas season. Nikolo's father was the "big man" or chief of their large, lush volcanic island of towering mountains, waterfront homes, and coastal white sand beaches.Nikolo caught my attention and pointed from the ship's bow:
"Over there," he said, "is an island special to you Americans…your President Kennedy's island." The watery battle site, where PT-109 went down and John F. Kennedy emerged a hero in World War II, was almost under our feet. Caught by surprise, I contemplated what I knew of this famous history. More than intrigued, I asked Nikolo the name of the lone coral island "right next to Kennedy's."Nikolo smiled and said calmly
"That 'island,' as you call it, is much too small to have a name. It doesn't even have fruit." He laughed heartily and said "We are not like the Americans...we don't name islands that don't have any use!" A crewmember, overhearing the conversation, laughed and shouted "It's James Island!" Soon, everyone on the ship was laughing and slapping me on the back in good-natured fun about "my" island. Just as soon, everyone forgot about it, including me, and we went about our various businesses. Then, a couple weeks later...A couple weeks later at Nikolo's island [Rarumana], I was leading a very interesting lifestyle, albeit temporary.
For example, Nikolo and I harvested wild sprouting coconuts to sell at the port city (Gizo) as seeds. We carefully piled the delicate, tentacled coconuts into a small, open motorboat. Friends eagerly climbed on board to tag along and drink beer at the port. With Nikolo at command under a cloudless sky, we set course over the great sunny sea to our destination over the horizon.On the way, a tropical storm erupted.
Land was not visible in any direction. The sky blackened with uncharacteristic quickness, and Nikolo put the boat at full power. High winds tossed us like toys, while the rain and waves drenched our bones and filled our little boat like a bottle. Trying to steer in any particular direction became useless. Nikolo shut the engine off to conserve fuel -- and pray. In despair, we were aimless flotsam looking for a second chance as the typhoon continued to bud... (To be continued next month: A Tale Of Two Islands, Part 2) James Patton, CRSToll Free (800) 997 - 8701
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