Pondering the “good life”

Working with ADRA in the Solomon Islands causes Matt Brown to refl ect that how much “stuff” we have is not necessarily an indicator of happiness.

It’s funny how luxuries turn into necessities over time. Things once regarded as “bonuses” are eventually taken for granted and become something we can’t seem to live without.

Having recently come to the Solomon Islands with my wife to work for the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA), I started thinking about what is really necessary in life. And I began comparing my life in Australia to the one I see in the Solomon Islands.

We have a house in Australia. It has running water and a number of taps around the property. It has electricity that allows us to do things like power a fridge, turn lights on and run any number of appliances. We have a phone that enables almost anyone in Australia to call us and an internet connection that allows us to surf the Web. We have a mailbox and postal service so that our personal mail can be delivered directly to us.

Is there anything special about our house? I don’t think so. It would be rare to find a house in Australia without a telephone, electricity or running water.

These services are considered absolute necessities—things that we could not possibly get by without. Have you ever thought how you would contact people, especially in an emergency, if there were no postal service or telephone? Or what you would do with your food if you had no electricity or fridge? And then my mind returns to the Solomon Islands, and how life is here.

Most houses in rural Solomon Islands are not like those in Australia, New Zealand or much of the developed world. Most of them are “leaf huts”—simple wooden frames with woven leaves covering them. Some of the houses are relatively big, but most are just a few small rooms with a storage space for kitchen utensils. Families generally eat outside, in a space next to or under the hut. The windows are open spaces in the walls, covered by hinged thatch that can be propped open from the bottom with a stick. There are usually no beds, with everyone sleeping on mats on the floor. Leaf huts last between four and eight years, depending on how thick the leaves are and how heavy the rainfall has been. Leaf huts don’t have running water.

They don’t have electricity, which means no fridges, lights or other appliances and they don’t have a phone or internet connection.

In thinking about what these people live with—or, more precisely, without—I compare it to what we have in Australia. I think of the toys and games with which we shower our children, the cost and size of the houses we build and the cars that are on our roads.

Comparing what we have in Australia to what they have in the Solomon Islands, I’m struck by how cheerful Solomon Islanders appear and how they are always smiling. I remember the many happy smiles I received on a recent trip to a village. Happiness just seemed to radiate from the villagers. Everyone seemed to wear the same face and exude the same cheerfulness. These people have so little compared to Australians, but seem so much happier.

Another thing I noted was that Solomon Islanders are rarely alone. They are social people and I think this has a lot to do with their happiness. I think that, in being social and connected, people are able to share and carry each other’s burdens, which makes life easier. When one member of the community is struggling, people around them pitch in to support and care for them.

In contrast, when in Australia, I used to spend three hours a day travelling to and from work by train. In that time, I saw a lot of faces. But many of the faces I saw weren’t smiling or cheerful— and most of the people seemed to want to be alone. I noticed on most of my train trips, the majority of fellow passengers would do one of three things: put an MP3 player in their ears; a newspaper or book in front of their face; or open their laptop across their knees. To me, all these things seem to say, “This is my space. Please leave me alone.” Australians and most people in the developed world have access to so many things to try to satisfy our wants, wishes and desires. Our consumerist culture does a good job of convincing us that we need the latest product or gadget. Which brings me back to my first thought: It’s funny how over time luxuries turn into necessities. How many times do services and products start as extravagances and eventually become something we cannot do without? And the problem with this is that the more luxuries we put into our lives, the more complex life becomes—and the harder we need to work to pay for it.

Life in the Solomon Islands is not easy, and we need to do all we can to support the development of communities and families so they can access more opportunities to improve their lives. But in being here, I have learned to see what really matters in life. From my experience, Solomon Islanders have learned to be content with what they have, and to find happiness in relationships and community support. My wife and I are blessed to share in this experience—and to be so often reminded of what is truly important to a fulfilling life.