Change in any society is inevitable. Babies are born, children grow up. Yet some kinds of change are unexpected and we may come to view them as unwelcome. The forces of change pull at every one of us and undermine traditions which may have been in place for generations.

Three Solomon Islands women who participated in the YWCA Pacific Communications Workshop share with and prose. Through them we search for insights on the common dilemma of women around the world struggling find a balance between the security of tradition and the challenge of a more independent way of life.

Civilized Girl

Cheap perfume
Six inch heels
Skin-tight pants
Civilized girl

Steel-wool hair
Fuzzy and stiff
Now soft as a coconut husk
Held by a dozen clips

Charcoal-black skin
Painted red
Bushy eye-brows
Plucked and penciled

Who am I?
Melanesian Caucasian or
Half-caste
Make up your mind

Where am I going
Forward, backward, still?
What do I call myself
Mrs Miss or Ms?

Why do l do this?
Imitation
What's wrong with it?
Civilization.

Jully Sipolo

"In the Solomons, when people don't like what a woman wears—if her dress is too short or if she acts too friendly they say here comes the Civilized Girl.

"I wrote that poem in 1981 when there was a big controversy in the local newspaper. There was an article that said women shouldn't pluck their eyebrows. But I think if a woman wants to pluck her eyes out, what business is it of anybody else? The main thing is what's inside a person and that they are honest with themselves.."

As the first Solomon Island woman to publish a book of poetry, Jully isn't afraid to let what's inside come out in an honest and often angry manner.

General Secretary of the YWCA of the Solomon Islands for four years, Jully now edits a local paper Gizo. Of her poetry she says that she likes to write about reality in a way that doesn't put a false glow on life: "You can go around the lagoon and see blue skies and palm trees. But you have to be careful too. There can be sting rays in the water and broken glass in the sand." Her poem Solomon Blue reflects this point of view as well as both dramatic and subtle changes in the Solomon Islander's way of life. "Solomon Blue comes from a brand of tinned fish: It's the dark meat of the bonito fish. White men buy it for dog food, but we buy it to eat for ourselves."

Solomon Blue is a Japanese-owned cannery in the town of Nora. Says Jully: "They say Nora is our jewel, that it's an emerald. That much is true; it's beautiful. It has a good deep-water harbour, and the industries bring in a good amount of income for the country. But it's floating on a sea of land disputes. And the industries are bringing in problems—pollution, alcoholism and prostitution."

Jully has four children whose ages range from 7 and 14. A few years ago, she was divorced after living a prolonged violent relationship with her husband. She writes openly about the abuse she suffered in the hope that it will give other women the courage to face their own problems. "My poems are just my feelings. A lot of women write. What I do isn't any different from what a lot of women do; it's just poetry."

Solomon Blue

You reap a harvest
you did not plant
You drain my resources
in the name of development
You fish in my waters
for bonito
You pay me a little
for permission
You process your catch
compressed into cans
You pour back your waste into our
oceans
Pollution!
Then you sell back to me
at a profit
Solomon Blue.

Afu Billy

She walks with a "Where's the party?" kind of bounce to her stride. Afu Billy. Even the sound of her name makes you smile.

As an active leader in a number of women's groups including past board member of the YWCA of the Solomon Islands, Afu must be a surprise to her family. As a child she says she was always in trouble for trying to bend the rules:

"I had a very strict upbringing. On Sundays we went to church all day—we couldn't go to the movies or anything. I was very adventurous and made a lot of noise so I got punished a lot. But I think my strict upbringing has made me strong. It's helped me try things most Solomon Island women wouldn't usually do."

Born to missionary parents who wanted their daughter to receive the best possible education, Afu was sent at an early age to live with her uncle in Honiara. Growing up as a town girl, she became aware of the distance between her and village life. In "Loke", a short story written in 1981, Afu says she put a lot of herself into the character of the adventurous young town named Toia:

The chilly early morning air seemed to bite into Samania's as she walked silently through the sleeping village Toia's house. The wet sand beneath her feet further discomforted the cold girl, and she drew her lava lava>closer around her shivering body.

As she approached Toia's house, Samania could tell was still fast asleep. Toia had been brought up in town, was just home for the Christmas holidays. All the village women gossiped about her. To them, anything Toia either completely wrong or wasn't done the proper lauded at the way she swept around her father's house.

"Her back is not bent well enough. She's as stiff as the broom she is using. Not the type I'd like for a daughter-in-law" one of them said, and the others laughed

"She rarefy goes to the garden," another commented. The only time she went, she could never carry more than half bag of kumara—but even then, heroko (a rope used to support a bundle or basket on your back) kept slipping off her shoulders."

Toia was unusually slim compared to other village girls. The women thought the clothes she wore were disgraceful because they showed too much of her upper legs.

But none of these mothers' idle talk could make Samania think badly of Toia. Next to Kakabi, Tola was Samania's closest friend...

The tensions between a modern and a more traditional way of life in the Solomons are brought out in Afu's writing. They are also expressed through her own personal experiences which show how difficult it is for an independent-minded woman to be fully accepted by her community.

Afu was married in her early 20's. The first years were happy, but then the physical violence began. The last time I was beaten by my husband, it made me determined I wouldn't go back again. I took my two daughters to my family house and went to talk with my father. He didn't approve of me leaving my husband. I told him if I went back, I was afraid I'd get killed, but he replied that the Bible says there can be no divorce. I know my father is a good man. It's just that he takes the Bible very literally. He took my divorce very hard."

As president of the National Council for Women (formed to provide a link between the government and women's organizations), Afu Billy draws on her life experiences to encourage other women to talk about their problems and to empower them to take a greater role in community decision-making.

Says Afu, "In the villages we hold meetings which are usually organized through church women's groups. We try to get them to realize that decisions about their lives are always made by men. They tell us they want to vote, but their husbands say for who. Then we say just go in and drop your vote in the box, he won't see. We laugh and joke, we have fun. Sometimes the men don't like it and try to stop the women from coming. But we're not trying to put down the men. It's just that we women have to work together. We're half the population, we want to be strong."

Lemu Darcy

Lemu Darcy based her poem "housework" on the relationship between  her brother and  sister-in-law:''Even though my sister-in-law didn't say anything to me, I could still see what  was going on. it just too much."

Lemu and Afu Billy have been friends since grade school. They both worked for the government as journalists, so it seemed natural that they would both gravitate towards the same organization, the National Council of Women, when it started in 1984.

Lemu, a housewife and mother of three children has, however, taken a less visible role in the NCW than Afu. She says her church believes that people should not become too involved in politics—that politics is not the solution. So Lemu volunteers with the NCW's media committee and writes articles for the organization's newsletter. She continues to write poetry, much of which is about her own life or the changes she sees in society.

"We need to respect our traditions," says Lemu. "Most people don't care what they do, especially in the towns. Our traditions are slowly disappearing. We must think carefully about which values we want to hold onto and which ones we want to let go."

Says Lemu of life in the Pacific. "We are isolated and are like little dots in a big ocean. But the influence from the outside is great."

Housework

Work, work, work
l am tired Of marriage
He bosses me:
Do this,
Do that.
He thinks I am
A machine.

There's always plenty to do.
He is inconsiderate;
I wish he was a woman
To taste work.
Work, work, work,
l am exhausted.
I loved the family
It is everything to me:

But when in high spirits
He steps out and calls:
"Shut up!"
Please pass my love,
I am not what he thinks

Source: Common Concern
World YWCA 37 Qum Wilson 1201 Geneva Switzerland