A piece of brass July 2009 An old male passenger who sat in front of the MV Solomone 1 in June this year attracted my attention. Not that he was handsome or performed any extraordinary act or anything like that.  It was a short piece of brass, a few centimeters long, which he used to pound what must be his first serve of betel nut that early morning when we anchored in the Ubuna Bay, Arosi 2, west Makira to drop off some passengers. There was nothing strange about what he was doing. Pounding betel nut in such a manner is very common among old Solomon Islanders who’ve lost all their teeth. But the piece of brass interested me. Where did it come from? I asked in my mind and made my way to the front of the ship – I was sitting in the middle - where he was sitting among some young men pounding and occasionally mixing in custard and lime. Once it was well mixed and turned red, he lifted the piece of brass out and licked the red bits that got stuck to the edge of the piece of brass. When finished he pounded some more but much lighter than when he started, turning and churning the mixed betel nut. As soon as I reached him, I asked where he had gotten the piece of brass without beating around the bush. “Oh, this?” he started and held it up, looking at me. “This came from an old ship that sunk in this part of Makira long ago, during the trading days – even before Blackbirding,” he said and looked down to slowly pound away again. I apologized for asking like that without introducing my name and extended my right hand to shake his hand. At the same time he said his name was Leonard Koi, from the Marou Bay area, close by to Ubuna and shook my hand. Now that we knew each other, I further probed about the piece of brass and the trading ship he mentioned. “As I said, this came from a sailing boat which sunk between Ubuna and Marou Bay during the trading days. Tales passed down to us by our old people said it was a huge ship with tall masts and very big sails. And very long and wide. Do you know the trading days? It was right after the discovery period, I think,” he said after I said I knew it through reading. “The boat, as the tales related, was not new to the area. It had been trading copra with the communities of Anuta and this part of Makira and was well known. Sorry, they didn’t give us its name. You know, that was when our people were heathens and very active in tribal fighting and cannibalism. And of course, there was no need for people to worry about names or even read and write,” he chuckled and smiled, revealing his toothless gums. “But being known as such in the area, the ship had established two copra agents on Anuta Island. This time around, however, the communities of Anuta Island and nearby mainland ones were busy making a custom feast. So when the ship arrived and the chief of Anuta apologized that there was no copra, the trader got very angry and ordered his crew to burn down some houses on the island and then sailed east along the coast of the mainland. “As it approached Rohu village, an old woman called To’oaniha’a signaled the boat through a fire to go ashore. When the boat anchored and a dinghy went ashore, she told the trader that she had a few bags of copra they could buy. But, sadly, the trader – perhaps because he was still mad about the treatment his two Anuta agents had given him – told her to use her copra to start fires with in the mornings. Then it sailed away towards Marau Sound on Guadalcanal. “To’oaniha’a, naturally, was disappointed, very angry in fact. And all she said after the ship sailed away was, ‘that’s OK, go away in our boat’ and went back to her house. Soon, people of Rohu saw a small dark cloud develop in front of the ship and slowly drift towards it. “As soon as the ship reached the dark cloud the people were surprised to see it being driven by strong cyclone-like winds towards the mainland smashing it on the reefs at a spot called Baba’aoa. Unfortunately because it was all timber, the ship quickly rotted and disappeared. Some of the timbers were taken by locals for firewood but other parts made of brass and irons didn’t and were collected by the people of the area. However, bigger and heavier parts weren’t. I am not sure if any of those are still in the water and would be useful for divers to come and see. “So this piece of brass came from that ship,” he said and held it up again. “ But you know,” added Koi, “the people of Makira were still cannibals at the time so crew members who were alive and tried to swim ashore on the reefs were all killed and eaten,” he said. “Another important thing that came from that ship was a golden alter cross which was allegedly taken  much, much later by a bloke called John Arau, an ex Rabaul student - the first indigenous from this area to have gone overseas for studies. He studied anthropology. It was said Arau was the last person known to have taken it but unfortunately no one knew where he hid it today. The second man from this area to have travelled overseas for studies was Awaehaka, Peter Baewai’s father. Mr Awaehaka went to study in England and later returned to be promoted to Inspector level. Peter Baewai was a former Makira-Ulawa Premier and Member of the Provincial Assembly.” I apologized a second time because I had kept him talking so he forgot to have his first morning serve of betel nut and walked back to the middle of MV Solomone 1 as the sun rose to properly expose the reefs that make up the Marou Bay coastline. Leonard Koi and the piece of brass