David drew up a plan to woo fellow architect Kawai: 500 Solomon Islanders helped

After Sydney architects Kawai Yeung, 45, and David Kaunitz, 48, met in 2009, he was completely besotted, whereas she couldn’t have been less interested. It took an extraordinary effort, on his part, to win her over.

Kawai Yeung and David Kaunitz. “Kawai has a special kind of charisma,” says Kaunitz. “She’s incredibly positive, with the openness and optimism you need to get through life.” Credit: Louie Douvis

David: I met Kawai in 2009 after a presentation I gave at the Australian Institute of Architects in Sydney. I’d been living like Robinson Crusoe in the Solomon Islands, working for Emergency Architects Australia on post-disaster reconstruction after a huge earthquake – one of the largest ever recorded – hit in 2007. I was rarely in Sydney, so friends and family came to the talk. Kawai came up afterwards and asked a question; I thought she was cute.

I invited her to the group dinner afterwards and she sat next to my mum. Mum is indecisive about ordering and Kawai helped her. Afterwards, heading home, I rang a close friend, Lea, and told her I thought I’d met my future wife. Kawai didn’t believe this when she heard it later, but Lea doesn’t lie. We went on a few dates, but Kawai was completely disinterested. Once, we went out for dinner and she left halfway through to watch a DVD at a friend’s house.

‘When Kawai reached Ranongga, 500 people were waiting to welcome her. It was like an Elvis movie.’

David Kaunitz

I went back to the Solomons, working on Ranongga and Simbo, two very remote islands in the country’s Western Province. One day, on a group email, Kawai unexpectedly said she’d like to visit. I went to extraordinary efforts to woo her while she was there. A friend, who lived in Honiara [the capital], and I rang the head of the airline to change the time of Kawai’s connecting flight to Gizo [Western Province’s capital] so that she’d have to stay with him and his family in Honiara for a night and gain a good impression of me. One of the kids gave her a block of chocolate and said, “Can you give this to David? It’s his favourite.”

When she reached Ranongga – a community that had been at its lowest ebb for two years – 500 people were waiting to welcome her. It was like an Elvis movie. Two months later, she picked me up at Sydney airport and that was the start.

Kawai has a special kind of charisma; she’s incredibly positive, with the openness and optimism you need to get through life. She’s authentic and loyal; there’s no sugar-coating. I’m the only grandchild of four Holocaust survivors. My father was born while my grandmother was in hiding during the Nazi occupation of Budapest. I feel the importance of making life count. We’re very different people, but we share the same values. We have two sons now, 9 and 7, and Kawai’s an amazing mum. She taught herself piano to teach it to our oldest; she taught him to read music.

Her only fault is her untidiness. I was raised by a single mum, so everything got put away. When we design our house, it will need to be free of all horizontal surfaces because anything in Kawai’s hand is put down and never put away.

Living and working in the Solomons changed the entire course of my life. The whole foundation of our architectural practice [Kaunitz Yeung Architecture, which focuses on humane architecture for disadvantaged communities] really came out of that time. When we started the business, it was a fantasy – a delusion, maybe – but it works; we employ people. Without Kawai, none of it would have been possible.

Kawai Yeung and David Kaunitz at their custom wedding on Rannonga Island, in the Solomons, in 2013. The bag of rice on the ground is a dowry.

Kawai: When I met David in 2009, I’d just finished doing some volunteering work in India, building houses in a slum. I had a lot more questions than answers after that trip. As an architect, I thought, “I’m sure I can use my skills to improve life in different communities.”

I heard about this talk by the late architect Paul Pholeros [a campaigner for improving Indigenous housing] and David was a speaker. I went to visit him in the Solomons as I was genuinely curious about his work, but I fell in love with him there. He’d say he didn’t know whether I was in love or not, but now he can read me better than anyone.

After our wedding in Sydney in 2013, my family, who live in Hong Kong, said, “We have to go to the Solomons!” We travelled from Gizo, with my parents, sister, brother and his wife, in a motorised, dug-out canoe to Ranongga. It can take two to three hours with the water constantly splashing you. My dad had his head down the whole time, trying to stay dry.

‘Every day, David would call and check, “Are you coming home for dinner?”; “What time will you be home?” It was extremely sweet.’

Kawai Yeung

When we reached the shore, 50 villagers were there. They got the bride wrong initially as they lifted up my sister-in-law. When they realised, they said, “Oh no,” put her down and lifted me up. There was a massive feast with lots of beautiful fish, a speech from the village chief and a gift-giving, like a dowry. I’m worth two bags of rice, some sugar and some coconut.

When David got back from the Solomons in 2009, it was a difficult but amazing period. He knew he didn’t want to go back to corporate architecture. The business started on our second-hand dinner table in a rented flat in Potts Point. I kept working at an architecture firm. Every day, David would call and check, “Are you coming home for dinner?”; “What time will you be home?” It was extremely sweet. He does great mushroom pasta and chocolate mousse.

There was a point when he was thinking, “Maybe I should get a job?” and I said, “Just keep going.” We just worked on paying the rent: we’ve never been motivated by material goods.

Eighteen months before our eldest son was born, we had a miscarriage. I also had to have surgery to remove a fibroid and we weren’t sure whether we’d be able to get pregnant again. David always put me first; he didn’t show a lot of his own grief. I took a little walk after the surgery, but it was very painful. I was slowly walking across a pedestrian crossing and a driver got very impatient and beeped. David got so angry; it was the angriest I’ve ever seen him. Usually, it would be hard to find anyone calmer.

He’s this really interesting combination: he’s got a massive heart, but he can also be extremely rational and strategic. He’s very aware of the quality of life – not in material terms, but whether it’s fulfilling. There’s a quote by the French writer Émile Zola, “I would rather die of passion than of boredom.” That’s David.

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