Former Governor General the Late Sir David Vunagi GCMG KStJ was given a State Funeral at the St Barnabas Cathedral and was laid to rest yesterday. The following is an excerpt of the Eulogy as told by Vice Chancellor of the University of the Solomon Islands, Prof Dr Transform Aqorau
Today, we come together not only to mourn the passing of Sir David Vunagi but to celebrate a life of unwavering integrity, quiet strength, and extraordinary service.
There are people who pass through this world and leave only shadows behind. Then there are those rare few, like Sir David, who leave behind light—a glow that endures long after they have left us.
Sir David was a teacher, a mentor, a friend, a statesman, and above all, a man of faith. His legacy is etched not in monuments, but in the hearts of those he taught, led, and loved.
The poet Longfellow once wrote:
“Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.”
Sir David’s footprints are deep and permanent—in the classrooms of KGVI, in the halls of the church, in the corridors of government, and in the fabric of our national identity.
A Humble Beginning, A Towering Legacy
Born in Samasodu Village, Ysabel Province, in 1950, Sir David’s life was shaped by struggle, resilience, and an unshakable belief in education. In his autobiography, Laef Blo Bifoa, he tells of the long distances he walked just to attend school, of the sacrifices his family made, and of the knowledge that education was his key to a future beyond the limitations of his time.
He was a student of Maravovo Senior Primary School and King George VI School (KGVI), where he first demonstrated the intelligence, discipline, and leadership that would define his entire life. Later, his pursuit of knowledge took him to the University of the South Pacific (USP) and the University of Papua New Guinea (UPNG), where he studied science education.
“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” – W.B. Yeats
Sir David did not just seek education for himself—he dedicated his life to lighting the fire of knowledge in others.
A Protector, A Brother, A Moral Compass
For those who studied with him, Sir David was more than a classmate—he was a protector, a moral compass, and a brother to many. He was not just a leader in the formal sense; he embodied leadership in his character, in his discipline, and in the way he treated others.
Ruth Liloqula, his classmate at KGVI, recalls how Sir David shielded her from the struggles of being the only female student in a class full of boys. She remembers that he and the late Hudson Siota ensured she was never bullied, and because of their example, the rest of the class followed. Sir David never sought attention for his leadership, but his actions shaped the culture around him—making others kinder, fairer, and more just.
Another of his lifelong friends and brothers in learning, Daniel Fa’alimae, recalls their years together at King George VI School and the University of the South Pacific. They were classmates in Form 3 in 1971, and both won scholarships to USP, where they studied together for their Diploma in Education. Later, they found themselves once again in the same class at the School of Natural Resources at Laucala Bay. Daniel remembers Sir David as an upright young man, dedicated, kind, honest, and steadfast in his values.
“All the years I have known him, I have never seen him smoke a cigarette, drink a beer, or do any of the silly things students of our age usually did. He never entered a Suva nightclub. He was always an upright young man, unwavering in his discipline.”
Daniel and Sir David parted ways in 1975, with Daniel going to Papua New Guinea to study for a Diploma in Agriculture, while Sir David continued at USP, later graduating with a Diploma in Education in Science. Their careers took them down different paths, and they never got the chance to reunite in later years. Yet, as Daniel reflects,
“Life olsm na. Only the memories linger on. It has been a privilege to know you during those early years, bro. Rest in peace.”
Sir David’s life was a testament to the idea that true character is not shaped by what one does when the world is watching, but by the choices one makes when no one is looking. He stood apart—not because he sought to be different, but because he remained true to himself and to his values.
He was not only a moral compass for himself but for those around him. And that is the mark of a truly great man.
My First Encounters with Sir David
My first encounter with Sir David Vunagi was in 1977, when he arrived at King George VI School (KGVI) as a practicum teacher from the University of the South Pacific (USP). I was only 13 years old, a young and impressionable Form 2 student, and like my classmates, I held university students in awe. In those days, university graduates were revered figures—their presence on campus was akin to witnessing men who had returned from a higher realm of wisdom. They were the beacon of knowledge and discipline, the embodiment of what we aspired to be, and Sir David was no exception.
He carried himself with a quiet, effortless confidence—never boastful, never seeking attention, yet his presence filled a room. He was a man of measured words, but there was something in his calm demeanour, in his steady, unshakable aura, that commanded deep respect. His discipline was evident not just in his studies, but in the way he moved, the way he stood with quiet authority, and the way he treated everyone with dignity—whether they were teachers, students, or staff.
What fascinated me most, however, was that he was also a martial artist—practicing Karate or Kung Fu. At a time when martial arts were the stuff of legends, when Bruce Lee’s films were making waves across the Pacific, here was a real-life warrior among us. The idea that this stoic, composed university student could also deliver a well-placed strike or execute a graceful but deadly manoeuvre made him all the more intriguing. We young boys would whisper among ourselves, half in awe and half in mischief, imagining what kind of Karate skills he must possess!
At the time, I could never have imagined that this young USP student, whom we admired from a distance, would one day rise to become the head of the Anglican Church in the Solomon Islands and later the representative of the Head of State as Governor-General. But even then, his leadership was apparent—he never needed to assert his authority, yet people naturally followed him. He commanded respect without ever demanding it—a mark of a leader whose strength lay in his integrity, not in his title.
Laughter and Leadership: His Love for Humour
In 1980, he returned to KGVI as a fully qualified teacher. Though he never taught me directly, my respect for him only deepened. His unshakable moral compass, his quiet wisdom, and his natural ability to lead left a lasting impression. He was the kind of teacher who did not need to raise his voice to be heard—his very presence was enough to command attention and respect.
Yet, for all his seriousness and discipline, Sir David had an infectious sense of humour. He understood the power of laughter, how it could bridge divides, ease tensions, and draw people closer together.
One day, as I lay in bed at Mendana House, I heard his distinct laughter echo through the corridors. He was walking past with the late Ezekiel Vave, both of them engaged in boisterous, uncontrollable laughter. There was something unbreakable about their friendship, something pure in the joy they found in each other’s company. It was moments like these that made Sir David unforgettable—not just as a leader, but as a friend.
At UPNG, he had a special way of teasing the younger students, like Don Tolia and Patrick Piro. His teasing was never mean-spirited—it was always playful, always lighthearted, a way of making them feel included. His sense of humour was a gift, something that turned even the most mundane moments into memories worth cherishing.
One of Sir David’s closest and oldest friends, Rex Horoi, who walked alongside him from KGVI to USP and UPNG, captures this balance best when he says:
“Sir David was a serious man, but he was also funny and humorous.”
This was the paradox of Sir David’s personality—a man who carried the weight of leadership, the burden of responsibility, yet never lost his ability to laugh, to tease, and to spread joy among those around him.
Rex, who mourns from Fiji, extends his deepest condolences to Lady Mary, their children, grandchildren, and the extended family, sharing that he has known Sir David for more than 50 years and was shocked and saddened by his passing. He recalls one of the last times they met—after Sir David had been appointed Governor-General, while he and Lady Mary were staying at the Heritage Hotel as their official residence was being renovated.
Even in this formal and prestigious role, Sir David remained the same warm and unpretentious friend. Their meeting, which should have been a diplomatic courtesy call, quickly turned into a reunion of old friends, full of storytelling, laughter, and of course, Sir David’s signature clergy jokes—ones, as Rex recalls, were only reserved for trusted company.
After a sumptuous seafood lunch lovingly prepared by Lady Mary, and over a glass of wine, Rex turned to him and said, “It’s been a long time since I heard a joke from you. Tell me a few of those clergy ones from the top shelf.”
Without hesitation, Sir David cleared his throat and began:
Sunday School Wisdom:
A Sunday School teacher asked her class, “What must you do to go to heaven?”
Emma raised her hand and proudly answered, “I help my mum sweep around the altar and put flowers every Sunday!”
The teacher nodded approvingly.
Peter then added, “I share my pocket money with my friends to buy lollies from the school canteen on Mondays!”
Again, the teacher commended him.
Then, from the back of the class, Little Johnny shot his hand up and yelled, “You got to die first before you go to heaven!”
The class erupted in laughter—and so did Rex and Sir David that day.
The River of Spirits:
On another occasion, in the presence of the late Frank Porara, the late Abraham Baenasia, Mathew Fakaia, and Rex Horoi, He asked Archbishop David if clergy ever tell jokes during a Synod meeting, or if it was always serious business.
Without skipping a beat, Sir David shared the story of an African Bishop who was preaching passionately about the evils of alcohol.
The sermon lasted over 40 minutes, as he quoted scripture after scripture, warning of the dangers of drink.
Finally, sweating from his own conviction, he took out a handkerchief, wiped his forehead, and declared:
“If I had all the beer in the world, I would pour it into the river!”
“If I had all the wine in the world, I would pour it into the river!”
“If I had all the whiskey in the world, I would pour it into the river!”
As the congregation sat in stunned silence, the choir master stood up and announced, “Let us all stand and sing the final hymn: ‘Let us Gather at the Mouth of the River.’”
The entire room, including the Archbishop, roared with laughter.
This was Sir David’s gift—even as a leader of great responsibility, he never lost his warmth, his wit, or his ability to bring joy to those around him. As Mark Twain once said:
“The human race has only one really effective weapon, and that is laughter.”
Sir David understood this well. He used humour to disarm, to connect, and to remind us all that even in positions of great authority, there is always space for joy, for light-heartedness, and for shared moments of laughter.
American author Mark Twain once wrote:
“Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.”
Sir David understood this deeply. He knew that humour was not just an escape, but a force—one that could unite people, soften hearts, and remind us of all that even in the most serious moments, there is always room for joy.
His legacy is not just in the wisdom he imparted, the leadership he provided, or the faith he embodied—but also in the laughter he shared, the light-heartedness that made him approachable, and the friendship he so generously gave.
He was a leader, a mentor, a statesman—but he was also, simply, a man who knew how to laugh.
And that, perhaps, is the greatest lesson of all.
Rest well, dear friend, knowing that your laughter, your warmth, and your unwavering spirit will echo in our hearts forever.
A Teacher Who Saw Potential in Every Student
He did not just educate minds—he inspired hearts.
Michell Lam recalls that a single moment changed her life. As her Form Master in Form 1 Green, Sir David once told her, “You have great potential.” She had been an average student, but his words ignited something in her, pushing her to achieve excellence.
C R Maui Hatingongo, who sat in his biology class in 1979, remembers his habit of stroking his beard thoughtfully while teaching. That simple image remains with him to this day, a reminder of a teacher whose lessons went beyond textbooks.
Mason Alatala, remembering Sir David’s teaching practice in 1975, recalls how he gave each student in Form 1 Red a packet of lollies—a small but meaningful act of kindness.
A Final Farewell to a Noble Soul
As we gather here today, we are not merely bidding farewell—we are bearing witness to a life of deep purpose, a life well-lived, a life devoted to service.
To speak of Sir David Vunagi is to speak of wisdom wrapped in humility, of strength clothed in gentleness, of a leader who sought no throne but led with the quiet power of his convictions.
“To live in the hearts of those we leave behind is not to die.” – Thomas Campbell
And Sir David lives on—in the lessons he taught, in the moral compass he provided, and in the enduring love and respect of those whose lives he touched.
His legacy is not measured in titles or accolades. No, his true legacy is seen in the students who once sat in his classroom, who now walk in his footsteps as leaders, educators, and citizens striving to make a difference. It is felt in the unity he fostered, the peace he brokered, and the dignity with which he carried himself in service to God and country.
It is said that a leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, and they will say: ‘We did it ourselves.'”
Sir David, this is your legacy—not one of command, but of quiet inspiration. Not one of self-promotion, but of selfless service.
His Work Continues Through Us
“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” – Albert Pike
Sir David’s mission does not end here. His spirit lives in the institutions he strengthened, in the minds he nurtured, in the faith he deepened, and in the community he held dear.
For those of us who sat in his classroom, who worked alongside him, who followed his example, we must now ask ourselves:
How do we carry forward his light? How do we Honor his memory, not just with words, but with action?
To the educators—may you teach with his patience, his wisdom, and his belief in every student’s potential.
To the leaders—may you serve with his humility, his dignity, and his unwavering integrity.
To the youth—may you remember that greatness is not measured by wealth or status, but by the lives you uplift and the values you uphold.
To Lady Mary Vunagi, and his family—your grief is ours, but so too is your pride. Know that Sir David was a gift to this nation, a light to its people, and a guiding star to its future.
And to every Solomon Islander gathered here today, let us promise to uphold the ideals Sir David embodied: faith, service, kindness, and an unyielding commitment to building a better world.
A Journey Completed, A Legacy That Lives On
As we gather here today, we are not merely bidding farewell—we are bearing witness to a life of deep purpose, a life well-lived, a life devoted to service.
To speak of Sir David Vunagi is to speak of wisdom wrapped in humility, of strength clothed in gentleness, of a leader who sought no throne but led with the quiet power of his convictions.
His journey did not start in palaces or in great halls of learning. It began in a small village in Isabel, beneath the branches of an ‘okete’ tree, where he first learned the values of family, community, and faith. But his impact was never confined by geography—it stretched far beyond our shores, across the Pacific, into the Anglican Communion worldwide, where he was revered not only as a leader of the Church but as a voice of reason, reconciliation, and faith in action.
He was a bridge between cultures, a diplomat in times of tension, and a shepherd of people whose lives were changed by his counsel. His leadership was not bound by titles—it was bound by trust. And that trust was not given to him because he demanded it, but because he earned it, over and over again, through his unwavering commitment to truth, justice, and kindness.
But if there is one role in which Sir David shined the brightest, it was as a mentor and role model.
He did not just lead—he nurtured.
He did not just teach—he inspired.
He did not just preach—he lived his faith.
His mentorship shaped not just students, but leaders. And today, many of those he taught, encouraged, and guided now serve as teachers, pastors, administrators, and policymakers across our nation and beyond. His influence is eternal because it lives in those he empowered.
And yet, for all his achievements, for all the positions he held, and for all the people who looked up to him, Sir David was first and foremost a friend.
For me, he was a teacher, a guide, and an elder brother. He was someone whose quiet presence could command a room without needing to speak, whose laughter could soften even the hardest of hearts, and whose simple words of encouragement could change the course of a life.
Sir David, I will always carry with me the lessons you unknowingly taught me—that humility is the highest form of leadership, that laughter is the greatest healer, and that true service requires no reward. You were, and will always be, my teacher, my elder brother, and my friend.
And so, though the shadows have lengthened, and the evening has come, we take comfort in knowing that Sir David’s light will never go out.
It shines in every student he taught.
It shines in every life he touched.
It shines in the faith he carried so steadfastly.
Rest well, dear friend, beloved teacher, and noble leader. The race is won. The work is complete. And your light will guide us always.
With deepest respect, admiration, and love,
Professor Transform Aqorau
Vice Chancellor, Solomon Islands National University
