adventures in vanuatu: what a day for a daydream

Just finished training! It feels so great! We’re in Port Vila for the week taking tests and getting medical check ups to make sure we’re ready for the real thing. We swear in as real volunteers on march 26 and then off to our islands on the 31st! I have some posts I need to stick on here this week, hope you enjoy the good reads. Shoot me an email if you want to say hello because after this week, letter writing it is! I’ll update my address this week too with my Ambae address. Thanks for all of the letters so far! Oh, and I’ll upload pictures here once I figure out how to do so!

second half of Sunai training

These past couple of weeks have flown. It’s amazing how quickly “strange” lifestyles and foreign activities can become normal and before you know it, time has passed us by. It’s Tuesday of our last week in Sunai and I’m not ready to say goodbye.

This is a special place and full of many of my firsts on this journey. I’m looking forward to coming back for a visit, but I’m also excited for what’s ahead: my one week wokabaot at my permanent site and part 2 of training in Epau. It’s a much larger village so that’ll take some getting used to, but the health volunteers say it’s a great place… and I have no option, so Epau or bust! Here are a few stories from time here in Sunai -

Sunai (and I’m pretty sure most Vanuatu villages) is home to three overlapping worlds: the people, the dogs, and the chickens. And the secret afterdark world of rats, but I won’t get into that yet. One of my biggest challenges here has been accepting the way that the Ni-Vanuatu treat the dogs. If they aren’t used for hunting, the dogs are seen as pests instead of pets. My family has two dogs, Gypsy and Brownie, and both are pretty disheveled with scars, gashes, and missing ears. When I arrived, I saw that Gypsy had four 3-week old pups – I didn’t find this out until day 4 because they lived under firewood outside the bush kitchen. I thought the pups were a mess, but really, I was the mess. I couldn’t wrap my head around the way island dogs are seen here. I’ve now gotten used to the way dogs are perceived and treated. I no longer gasp when someone hits a dog or, when it rains, run to move the puppies to shelter. They’re survivors and I shouldn’t disturb The Way Things Are simply because it’s different than what I’m used to.

That doesn’t mean we don’t celebrate the small victories here! My little cousin Nola doesn’t pick the puppies up by their ears and tails anymore and my grandpa doesn’t stone Gypsy when she begs for food – well at least not while I’m around! We’ve all decided that the dogs are as fat as they’ll ever be right now because we’re all guilty of sneaking plenty of food their way. You would, too!

My family saw that I actually acknowledged the puppies and told me to name one for them. So I picked the plumpest, most hopeful-for-survival pup and named him Bob, a good ol’ American name. And plus I like the name Bob because in Bislama, it’s spelled b-a-b, which happens to be the same spelling/pronunciation for Barb – this cracks me up! Anyways, Bab was a good pup until one day he disappeared and I was the only one to notice. After a few days we decided he died.. and I realized that the blind, mangy, runtish one named Mr. Kray (not my doing) outlived my little Bab. Waita go Bab! But wait… curveball! After a week my grandpa remembered to tell me that my aunt came and took him to Vila! So Bab lives on! And is probably enjoying city life.

I do have to admit, I have become immune to puppy cuteness. There are so many puppies in Sunai that they’ve lost their sparkle. It’s a weird thing. But I’m sure things will change once I get one of my own at site!

mama gypsy

3 weeks old

mr. kray - shit or get off the pot

And on that note, my friend Kelsey came into her room the other day to find three slimy crawling creatures and one large placenta. And her cat Elfy! Who had just given birth under Kelsey’s bed. The kittens are now adorable and the mess is cleaned up, don’t worry.

One phenomenon in Vanuatu is called coconut wireless. Everyone knows everything about everyone, all the time. It’s like in the telephone game where you pass on what you heard, whether it’s accurate or not, except it’s not an ice breaker game here- it’s real life! It’s remarkable really. And it’s not just within the village, we’ve already witnessed it cross-village and -island, too! One example in Taseriki is about Robert, an older dude in our group who did peace corps Cambodia a few years ago. He was in the water looking for his flip flop and snorkeling about. word traveled to his family’s house across the village that he had drowned. His papa came running to the saltwater, only to find him sitting in the sand with his brothers. We found out about this in Sunai later that day, too. It’s amazing how twisted stories can get. this was a good lesson in making sure I’m clear with my words and actions unless I want someone else to have creative license on my whereabouts!

Oh! Before I forget – if you get a chance, go to Google Earth and search Efate, Vanuatu. To the north there should be a small island named Tranquility Island. Zoom in… Keeeep zooming. There are two villages in the south, the one towards the east is Sunai! And the eastern most, very last house is my family’s home. Hello!

One interesting topic we’ve learned about is nakaemas (nah-kye-mahs) or black magic. Witchcraft is a thing in Vanuatu, and on some islands, it’s a really big thing. Elinda, our kick ass Bislama and culture teacher, shared with us several stories of nakaemas – evil spirits taking over people’s bodies, houses collapsing in the night, men going crazy… So it’s safe to say I was pretty fascinated by the whole thing. That night I went home and was having a good time talking with my family. At one point I said, “Mi wantem lanem nakaemas” and everyone went quiet and stared. My papa stood up and said “Bae yu no lanem nakaemas” or “You will not learn black magic” and walked away. I knew my papa’s shoulder had been hurting, but at this point my mom explained that it was because a man at my papa’s work didn’t like him and put a spell on him. Oh. It wasn’t until the next day when I told my friends that my parents acted super weird that I realized I made a Bislama mistake. I meant to tell them that I wanted to hear some stories about black magic, but I actually said, “I want to learn black magic.” Nice work, Alison! So I went home and apologized for the confusion and it felt like they understood, which is good.

A few nights later I came home and there was a weird energy in the air. My mama was out back with my papa and aunt and she was shaken up. She said her whole body felt weak and finally admitted she thought it was witchcraft. And this was not the time to tell her that if you let your son wipe his snot on your face when he has the flu, you may just catch it. So now both of my parents think they’re cursed and here I am, the curious/nonfluent foreigner who asked about black magic. What a lovely scenario! It’s difficult to analyze people when it’s night time and they’re speaking local language, so I made a small test. I offered my mama some tylenol from my med kit – if she decided to take it without hesitation or language chatter, I knew they wouldn’t be too suspicious of me. It worked! As she happily gulped down my medicine, I think I breathed for the first time since arriving back at my house. I slept with my knife just in case they decided I was in fact a witch and needed to be removed. Not that a pocket knife would have protected me from bush knife experts, but it helped me sleep! Elinda told me that nakaemas isn’t a big thing on Ambae, so I’m hoping my witchcraft slip ups are finished. I now have to train myself to not describe this beautiful place as magical!

my first hand wash!

crab, it's what's for dinner

jon & kirk's birthday bash

kelsey (leisalei aka leisa-slay) wringing its neck

mike learning to dress it

the beginnings of chicken noodle soup

On the second Saturday we had a culture night with the village. Our families all taught us a Bislama and a language song and we performed them for everyone on a little stage where we usually have class. Along with the Vanuatu-inspired night of song and dance, we included some nostalgia from home! No culture night is complete without YMCA and Cotton Eyed Joe! Jen led us in “Take me out to the ball game” and we made guacamole for the village to taste (is guac a small stretch for American culture night?) Mike, who has truly become the Sunai dancer, did a little jig on stage in a kastom leaf outfit and cracked everyone up! It was a fun night indeed. My parents taught me a Bislama pikinini singsing (children’s song) about a goat and a rabbit. Also, my papa taught me the food prayer in local language and I sang it once with him and then with the whole village at the end of culture night. I’m not really one to get on stage and perform -and I’m certainly not a singer with a voice like mine- so it’s pretty funny that I have now sang the food prayer a few dozen times since culture night. A foreigner singing a traditional song of their village, they eat it up! Pun intended!

The next day my family woke up super early and we took a boat over to mainland, then headed to Sama village where my mama grew up. We stopped at a store and it was at this point that I saw my first refrigeration system in a few weeks. With a very cold coca cola inside begging me to drink it. I obliged. I’m not much of a soda drinker but you better believe I was that day! It must have been the coldest drink of my life. Refreshing is an understatement! It’s hard having a long distant relationship with ice.

We got to Sama and I met about 25 new family members. My Apu woman (grandmother) gifted me an island dress and we went to church. It was a hot day, so thank the Lord (literally, Amen) for little pikininis who are so fascinated by white man that they fan you throughout service! After surviving the hot box, we went back to apu’s house for lunch. We had a delicious meal and storian’d all afternoon.

After lunch my uncle and mama took me down to a spot where we scratched some coconuts and spread the shavings across a field. After a few minutes, dozens of green birds with brown wings flew down to eat the snack and soon enough, the whole space was covered in these girl scout birds! I probably immediately decided to call them girl scout birds because a) I’ve been craving samoas since I’ve arrived and b) their green/brown coats reminded me of my super cool sash and vest from back in my scout days! Anyways, it was absolutely beautiful. Then they led me to a place called top rock where we had a great view of the surrounding islands. We headed back to Sunai that evening and passed out early, bellies full with good food from my Apu woman!

Those were some highlights, though every day here presents new stories. We all had to fill our cultural passport booklets with the lessons we learned throughout training – everything from burial rituals to identifying plants for kastom medicine. One night our friend Nathan (who was in the group in Taseriki, the other group on Moso) came and spent the night in Sunai! His family wasn’t the most welcoming and we decided a fun night was in order. A few of us cooked fried rice (with onion, garlic, egg, veggies, happiness) and feasted! We had a dance party and gave Mike, the usual entertainment, a run for his money.

the olfala jif (former chief) who had a laugh like rafiki

the hang out spot in front of my family's home

Finished this during wokabaot -

For our final night, the community had a ceremony for us. We were all given gifts from our families and danced and ate afterwards. My family gave me a palm leaf tote bag with my name woven into it – one side says “Leiwia” and the other says “Aliceson” which rocks! If you sound out Alison, it could totally be spelled that way. A good laugh and a great memory! I’ll think of them every day when I carry my school things (what exactly do you bring to class?) to class!

matching island dresses and shirts!

will dance for food

My uncle siki is a wood carver, learning the skill from his grandpa when he was a little boy. we would end up chatting about our grandparents and the fun memories. i brought some family pictures so the whole fam knew who dami was when i talked about her! at the end of my stay, siki gave me a walking stick. i was like, hell yeah! but he told me it was for dami! which is even cooler. i am going to sand and stain it & bring it back when i return home for a visit.

ankel siki & the walking stick

The next morning I woke up and drank tea at 3:30 am with my mama. She helped me pack up my mosquito net and mattress and bring it to the landing. We all said our goodbyes, which luckily everyone was half asleep so not too painful, and headed off to the airport! Everyone wore the matching island dresses and button downs they sewed up for us… we looked pretty damn good. Did some good relaxing there and then off to Ambae!

Sunai was a great place to start. A tight nit community excited to teach us about their world: a tiny village on the edge of a little island, full of people and stories! I’ll never forget the way the sky looked from Sunai. When the day darkened, we’d stand in the water and watch as the sun set and the moon rose simultaneously over the strip of water separating Moso and Efate. Such a beautiful feeling.

Alright, it’s Ambae time. Hope all is well, wherever you are. Let me know how you’re doing!

Until next time