Beautiful Pain

Chapter 4

"Let us form one body, one heart, and defend to the last warrior our country, our homes, our liberty, and the graves of our fathers."

-Tecumseh

Solomon felt the familiar tug of regret, as he left the Cimbu lady's house. She had struggled without a man in her life, and done the best she could with what the world had dished out. He made his way to the small coke tucker box at the base of the settlement to buy an Anchor chocolate milk.

He felt sorry for the mother. He knew that what-ever the news was, it wouldn't be good. He would make it his responsibility to be the one to advise her either way. The poor woman had already been through enough, losing her husband and raising those boys on her own.

Solomon was from Silo1, in Kerema. He stood six foot seven. He knew he was still strong, but at 49, he could feel his body start to ache now and then. His knuckles would swell in the evenings, his left shoulder and his back gave him hell every afternoon until he finally shut his eyes each night.

He did not smoke, he did not chew, and he rarely drank booze. He felt these things made it harder for him to stay focussed, harder to stay alert. They were weaknesses, and costly unnecessary bourdons. So at a young age, he made the conscious decision to not partake in such activities. His one weakness was chocolate milk, thus giving rise to his nickname in the force "Susu Solomon". Susu meaning 'milk' in the local language - tok pisin, but also meaning 'woman's breast' or 'mother's breast milk', so his colleagues enjoyed the humour in his nickname. He did not mind. He stood a clear foot above most men, and if pushed too far, everyone who knew him, knew what he was physically capable of. Mostly only his close friends dared to call him Susu to his face.

Solomon was the tallest in his family. He was told he took after his great grandfather on his fathers' side. His people thought he was the image of him. His great grandfather was reputed to have been a formidable warrior. Solomon always had an inexplicable urge to protect others. He wanted to make his ancestors proud, for to Solomon, as with most Melanesians, ancestors are not dead, merely transformed into spirits to guide and watch over the living.

From a young age, Solomon had wanted to protect the weak. He felt the best place to do this was in the police force. He lied about his age, and at 16, already standing over six feet in height, he applied for the force. He attained the list of all the tests he would have to pass and dedicated his time after school for six months to studying PNG law, and exercising to make sure he was both physically and mentally fit to pass all the tests.

Every afternoon he ran the streets of Port Moresby. He could not afford shoes, so he ran bare footed, rain or shine, he ran. He climbed trees, and used branches to practice pull ups, he could complete twenty five full stretch under arm pull-ups and a further fifteen over arm by the time he was ready to sit his tests to enter the training academy. When he finally sat the tests, he passed with flying colours.

He was married once, but his young wife had died giving birth to his premature son, who had struggled on without his mother for two days, and finally decided to join his mother. The doctors had said the boys lungs had not fully developed. But Solomon always felt his son had died of a broken heart from losing his mother.

He had met his wife Laho when she was fourteen at church, she was of mixed parentage, Milne Bay and Kerema. She was fair skinned, tall and slim. Her eyes were a light brown colour, her hair had tinges of gold and her teeth were perfect snow white, and she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Solomon quietly and secretively admired her at church from afar. Never knowing her name, but watching her gentle movements, her kind gestures towards others and watching her smile. The day she caught him stealing a furtive glance, his heart had pounded. He had resisted the urge to look away, instead, he held his ground and continued to stare, until he saw her blush and smile, then glance away for a moment, then return to look at him again. That was when he knew he had a chance. He never missed church, and volunteered to participate in the youth group's prayer squad just to be near her. He was a terrible singer. His voice too deep, too flat, too ordinary, but Laho sang like an angel, making him fall more deeply in love than he thought humanly possible.