ship venture

I am currently somewhere between Ambae and Santo on the Tina 1, riding the South seas on this sunny day. When I reach santo, I'll be wrapped up in happy times with great friends. Today's the 6 month anniversary of our time in country, so tonight we'll celebrate proper. 

Holy smokes! Half a year of swan diving out of my comfort zone, morphing culture shock into everyday life, readily going out on a limb (this one a bit literal- I can't get enough of the mandarins!) and laughing through the stumbles - and look! I'm still both happy and healthy. 

After a few setbacks of figuring out the ship schedule, I'm finally aboard and heading to Luganville. One piece of trivia for all you fact feigns - during World War 2, America's second largest Pacific base was Luganville, Santo, Vanuatu (Called New Hebrides at the time) the main road through Luganville was built wide enough so that two US tanks could drive (do you drive a tank?) down it together! There's a great scuba/snorkel spot on Santo called Million Dollar Point where the ever environmentally conscious US dumped all the big equipment they didn't want to schlep back to the states with. We're planning on checking it out this week!

Anyways. The ship finally arrived to Lolowai early Saturday morning at 2:30, but decided to sleep in the bay until daylight because the winds were too intense to go back out. During the week I had heard from johnathan the booker in Lolowai that Tina would arrive anywhere from late Wedneday night to eventually 11 pm Friday. The rough sea and all the stops make timing not as accurate as we're used to at home! Before arriving to Ambae, the ship stopped at 14 different sandbeaches along Pentecost collecting kava root! 

I slept at my Mami Amina and Uncle Glen's house in Lolowai and they kept me safe until it was time to board. I think we ended up leaving Lolowai around 9 am and off we went along the northern coast of Ambae, wrapping around the top and stopping at the last point, the West Ambae port, before heading across to Santo. 

So the Tina 1. What's it like? Picture the fanciest cruise ship you can think up. Now forget that imagine, and envision a big dirty cargo ship and you've got it! Just for kicks, I'm still referring to it as a cruise and this being cruise ship day, Kate said they'd send the limo for me when I arrive in Santo. It's the least they can do. 

 loadin up

lolowai bay

The main members of our voyage are humans, cargo, pigs, and kava. I found a good bench on the top deck near the captain's room (it probably has a name, I just can't think of it) and have enjoyed some reading. I had to quit reading when the sad and disturbing pig squeals started getting to me, so I decided to plug in to some tunes and write down some things instead. One gal close to me is a bit sea sick and won't take my advice to look at the horizon. Instead, she just drank two fantas and is now yacking up orange goo. People watching is limited, but quite entertaining because you've got people from all of the different islands. My favorite thing I've seen today is an old man wearing a Walt Disney Mom 1995 shirt. Classic. 

Everyone has been mostly friendly, but some folks have been on board for 3 days and are probably sick of people in general so I'm not taking it personally. 

When we got up to West Ambae, the waters got rough while we passed Devil's Rock. I was asking my bench neighbors what was going on, but no one would answer me. One woman was posing for a picture with it like it was the Eiffel Tower, so I figured it was something worth learning about. Not until we safely reached beach did someone inform me that it's taboo to talk while passing the rock. Lovely! Add it to the list of accidental cultural faux pas (the other day I told my mom I liked the style of a bush kitchen we were passing and she told me it was actually a raised grave...) 

Once everyone was convinced that Devil's Rock wasn't going to wreck our shit, one woman proudly told me the kastom stories concerning the massive bay blocker. It's tradition to stay quiet in passing, quietly whispering soris to your ancestors and dropping off a little love gift at the boulder's feet. While I was yapping away (it probably wasn't that bad, right?!) the crew sacrificed a bag of kava root to Devil's Rock and we've been truckin along  safely so far! Only a couple hours of this 7 hour journey to go. The waves are big, but the boat is bigger. No one seems to be concerned, so onward we go!

Ambae behind us and Santo on the near horizon 

see you soon ambae!

I finished Damien the Leper and can now switch my focus strictly to A Prayer for Owen Meany. Such a good book! Far too much Catholic undertone (being about Catholic missionaries in Hawaii long ago) but the fascinating tales outweighs the propoganda. I'm hoping the Laufenbergs can send me home with a good book, too. Along with a big jacket for the overnight ship ride home!

Here's some shots of us on the top deck. A rowdy bunch! I couldn't help but get a picture of myself bracing the windy seas. I'm sure I was just begging for people to chat me up looking like this..

 

sea snoozes

a friendly buffer

Ok we're pulling into Luganville Harbor! An easy ride, totally worth the 30 bucks. Now time to hop on land and catch a ride to the Santo Rodeo - an annual rodeo where my friends are currently stationed

Yee haw! 

here comes the bride

I recently attended a wedding in the village! They call them merids (marrieds) here and they sure know how to throw em! And it wasn't any exception for the marid of Joann and Ench.  I've actually met a few Enochs, Ezras, and Yaels here. They love my sister's name Shoshana and I've already been promised by pregnant mamas that if the next ones a girl, it'll be a Shoshana. Ha! And that's about the extent of the Jewish presence in Vanuatu. 

Because there aren't defined or maintained truck paths up to the villages on top, we had a nice 2 hour offroading adventure! It takes about an and a half on foot, but we were bringing wedding goodies, so four wheel drive was the only option. They put me inside the cabin and my uncle Braun filled me in on the villages and land that we passed on the journey up. There were two times we all had to get out of the truck to get it over a messy spot, but Braun is a skilled driver and only had to smoke a cigarette after one of those feats. 

We arrived and dropped our stuff off at my mama's childhood home. I got to look around my bumbu's house and the area surrounding where my mama grew up. My bumbu's bush kitchen is the size of my house and home to some delicious laplap! 

We headed to the ceremony and first thing I noticed was all of these women carrying their offerings to the pot. Not a woman would pass without a stack of mats resting steadily on her head.

The kastom bride price on Ambae is primarily mats and pig tusks, and man were there plenty of both. The Ambae mats are long and narrow and the women weave them with dried pandanus leaves all year long. My mama says it's very therapeutic (well not that word, but that's what she was getting at) I'll have to go through that tedious process in a future entry because these women work extremely hard to produce all these mats. Hundreds of mats stacked on top of each other - I was blown away. It would have been unbelievable seeing that many store bought mats, but knowing how much effort was put into each one really made me step back in awe and appreciation for the craft. 

those are seriously all mats!

I tried to take pictures for my own memory bank without being intrusive. Everyone pushed me forward and told me it was important to capture these moments, but I usually feel that things are better cherished when you're participating instead of observing. And I was the white man taking pictures at a kastom celebration, which always feels ridiculous. However, there was a villager using a laptop to video tape the ceremony so that made me feel a little better! 

I've mentioned before how important and valuable pig tusks are here. There's a special part of the ceremony where the chief pays respect to the pigs. One fun fact (well, depends on your definition of fun. I think it's pretty fun!) I learned recently is the local language word "ala" means the last twist of the pig tusk. And striving for ala is a thing - like doing your best to reach the ideal, the last curl of the tusk. My school's name is Qwatuneala, named after an old Ambae warrior leader named Qwatu who was deeply respected, so they referred to him as Qwatuneala.  Fun! 

bags of pig tusks

 

So part one was paying the bride price at the village of the bride Joann. All the women family members of both sides of the wedding party got up and filed into a small nakamal. They draped a mat over my shoulders and told me to come along, so I happily did. I got into the dark enclosed space and saw that Joann was in the center covered with namele leaves. The namele leaf is a sacred symbol in Vanuatu that represents protection. You'll see the "tabu leaf" on conservation areas, personal fruit trees, or on the doors of new households. It's even on the flag! 

Anyways, my mama passed out coconut oil to all of the other women and everyone sang a beautiful kastom song while covering Joann with the oil. Hair, head, arms, toes - the whole shabang. Everyone reloaded on oil, and found a woman who belonged to the other side of the wedding party until everyone was paired up. My mama later explained that this part of the ceremony signifies the joining of the whole family through the love and care of the women. Turns out I'm an aunt, too, and was included in the ceremony! One of Enoch's aunts partnered up with me and they gave me some coconut oil. Now all the women sang another sweet song, covering each other in the oil! I think that my pal wanted me to forever remember my first bridal ceremony because she doused me good- it took atleast a week for me to get the oil out and for my hair to feel like hair again. Everyone got a kick out of that. The ceremony was very special and I'm happy that I got to participate!

All was going well until the yungfalas (usually misfit boys around 18-25 years old) who were plastered on home brew strolled in yelling out, hitting walls, knocking over cooked food, and trying to be super cool and drunk-like. I was finding it easy to avoid this commotion until one yungfala (who I found out is the brother of the bride) decided he wanted to kick this pregnant dog - hard enough for the dog to fly in the air and crash into something 5 feet away. Everyone around me acknowledged that it happened and laughed and thought nothing of it and I was left to face this stupid animal abuse by myself. I couldn't believe that no one mentioned how horrible it was, just laughed to themselves and returned their attention to the main event. At that moment, there was a lonely feeling in my heart. That among a sea of humans, I was the only one who felt sympathy for this animal. There are reckless yungfala in every society, but it's hard to accept their disruption of the island harmony you find in Vanuatu. 

I found out the next day that two of the yungfala (including the brother that hurt the dog) had to go down to lolowai hospital. One punched a bamboo hut and a piece stuck into his hand and the other punched something else he probably wasn't supposed to be punching and a 2 inch nail went through his palm. 

Those sad feelings were definitely acknowledged by myself and by those around me - community members who will hopefully take my sincere emotion as something deeper than the natural acceptance of these reckless yungfala. That weird time soon passed and we were off to more celebration. I guess I could have easily skipped over that low of the day, but I think that it's important to share both the roses and the thorns of this little world floating in the Pacific. 

After the bride price was finished, we walked over to Enoch's home village which was conveniently located 1 minute away. On the walk over my mama told me that sometimes you must walk over an hour to get to the groom's village! And if the bride's papa is healthy enough and she's not too fatfat (saying "fatfat" here isn't an insult, just a description) than he will carry her on his back to the groom's home!

When we got there, men were finished up their afternoon-long  kastom dances. There were big piles of gifts to the new couple. My favorite one was the massive laplap wrapped in everything a new bride could need - mats, fabric, and plants for the home! It reminded me of the diaper cake made for baby showers in the states!

that's a lot of thank you notes..

We were given a meal of fresh beef and delicious susut (like zucchini) and cake and I wanted to eat it all, but saved most of it for post kava. A big kava rule, especially with extra strong merid kava, is that you're not supposed to drink kava on a full belly. 

The sunset and night was quickly sweeping in. We watch the family members give blessings and wa-la merid complete! Mama, papa, and I walked home with the torchlights on our phones and made a few pit stops for kava shells on the way down. 

Really looking forward to my Mami Amina's wedding in December!

all the leaves are brown

just kidding, everything is still in full bloom, but it's cold! 

When the southern folks were telling me they were sleeping in socks and sweatpants I was baffled. I had just started using a sheet and couldn't fathom actually being cold enough to put on socks. But! I've now had a few sockful nights and am not complaining - the chilly air is a refreshing treat. My house has two sets of windows facing each other so the double crosswind action is so satisfying! Winter only lasts for a couple months, so I'm planning on soaking up this time when the sun drops and I can whip out my long sleeves and my peace corps issued fleece blanket at night. 

The blanket, the notorious blanket. 

At the beginning of training we were given a mix of things we'd definitely need- a bucket, mattress, pillow, detergent, soap, sheet, brush, and so on. Among these necessary items was a big fleece blanket, though none of us saw it as a crucial or even useful item. I lugged it around and almost gave it to my training host family. Why the hell would I need a blanket, I kept thinking to myself.  I fall asleep and wake up sweating, spending most of the other time doing the same as well.. that was the cruel rainy season that pre-service training was marked with. But still it came with me to site, just to be tossed under my bed and left to rot until just this week. One night I woke up from my coldness and realized the blanket would soon be making an appearance. So I washed it (plunged it) and let it dry for two days before sliding it under my mosquito net into the dream station. It has become the comfiest softest fluffiest thing I own and I love it! It's far too warm and jumbo sized (2 meters by 2 meters!) but I still can't believe I almost gave this gem away. It's plushness fills a void - this country doesn't believe in sofas couches or padding, which is probably for the best if you start to think of what would live inside them. 

What it lacks in appearance, it makes up in ability, i assure you. I would never spoil the allure and mystery of the blanket with a mere picture. I'll leave you with my description and let the rest be created in the imagination! It's maroon, pink, and gold with a 70s pattern bordering it and a huge plant vase design in the middle. The golden twine is supposed to resemble something from the Mediterranean I think, but the potted plant in the center reminds me of something my grandmother would have in her house. I have no idea where it came from. Well minus what the tag tells me: the Good People's Republic of China. Or when the grand design was thought of, approved, manufactured, and shipped away. How did this blanket become part of the issued supplies? And who do I thank for such an act?

You'd think that cold weather would bring along flu season - not here! Flu season is every season, and if you're sick, it's definitely the flu. It doesn't matter if it's a headache, sore belly, itchy eyes, or the elevens that are bothering you, it's immediately confirmed by anyone you encounter as the flu and that's that. One time I was'nt feeling good and casually mentioned that I must've caught a stomach bug. Everyone looked up and stared at me (that's nothing new!) There was a collective sigh of relief when I realized my mistake and explained it wasn't an actual bug, just another name for stomach flu. Ahhh. The flu- that they understand. 

The best part of chilly season is the hot spring sitting behind my house. Nothing better than a nice soak in the big tub. On such a winter's day... 

recent happenings

More stories from my sliver of the pie! 

The World Cup started up while I was in Vila for training and it was very fun watching it with friends over a cold beer, even if that refreshing drink was enjoyed while watching the 3 am, 6 am, or 9 am games! The real joy arrived back at site while crowded around a small tv with handfuls of people from the community! My headmaster rented a satellite (still a question if the school was the one who rented it or the headmaster.. as are most things dealing with school money unfortunately) In the school dining hall, we'd watch the games, everyone with their favorite teams. Viewers would pay 100 vatu an adult or 20 vatu a kid (a buck or 20 cents) to help pay for the generator. The generator magically worked perfectly for every game, even though it's been "sick" plenty of times beforehand.. also questionable.

hey scooby

Anyways, it was a great and busy few weeks with men and women coming & going! The light in my house would wake me up at 3 am (life without an on/off switch) and I'd make hot chocolate and go watch the game as the sun rose around us. If the games were during school like the semi-finals and finals, we'd have morning assembly hovering the television! Soccer is a big part of life here and the World Cup brought a spirit to the islands that I loved. And the spirit lives on! For Children's Day until Vanuatu Independence, fulap celebration happen all over the country. In North Ambae, they've temporarily named the fields where the sports and dancing will be held "Sao Paolo Stadium" and we're suddenly back in World Cup mode!

I'm pretty sure my house is going to be an ongoing 2 year project. Which is great news for someone who loves crafts! Here are a few things I've been working on

It's taken a while, but I've finally finished painting my main room. I love it! A very long process of mixing, spilling, cursing, laughing, and of course painting - but a gudfala memory indeed. I've never been good at coloring inside the lines, so it was no surprise when I got impatient and made some paint splash here and there. I blame good music and bad dance moves, mainly. Needless to say, the house is bright and colorful and, most of all, it feels like it's my own. 

the gift of giving!

Laura enouraged me to make a fun fund. It works like this: you seal it up, you randomly put money in it, and you open it up when a trip arises! Our fun funds are staying locked up until the October trip down to Tanna and Aneityum. I found some beat up books on the verge of becoming fire starter for my headmaster and got to pastin'. Here she is! The patterns from the books inspired me to paint the area behind my front door. Wa-la! Tacked up some poems, letters, and quotes that friends have sent me (thank you Amanda Powell and Lauren Kurtz!!) and now I've got another favorite part of my home. 

The door into my bedroom stays open all the time and it asked me for a new purpose. I got out my handy dandy painter's tape (which I failed to use elsewhere, hence all the paint in the wrong places) and made a chalkboard planner! I bought a tin of chalkboard paint in Vila and painted a couple boxes throughout the house. The quote bubble on top is going to house a new quote every week. I really like quotes. Actually, if you have a chance, send me your favorites!

Anyways, the door planner is brand new and hasn't been put to use yet. I'll list which classes I meet with each day and any school events on the horizon. Looks like my busy, overworked life will finally be organized.. Haha... 

A nice reminder. What's a home without a motto?!

Some projects coming up are my new bed, a reading bench, and a swing for the big nakatambol tree outside my parent's house. Also, I need to finally set my solar up on top of my roof. The Peace Corps provides satellite phones and solar systems to those of us with shitty phone reception. Gotta be prepared for all of nature's unexpected visits while living on the coast of a volcano where earthquakes happen on the reg! That ring of fire...

As for fruit, nakavika are currently in season - crispy little wild apples! When the season starts, the tree bursts into bright magenta fireworks frozen in time. It's wonderful! Eventually it sheds the pink all over the place and it looks like a shag carpet the pink panther would have. Once the last petal joins the rest, the nakavika tree is ready to bare fruit. And what delicious fruit it shares! I've been eating them every day with honey for the past 3 weeks and I'm definitely not ready to let up. My family thinks I'm a little crazy for the apple honey combo (they clearly don't know the best part of rosh hashanah: apples and honey for a sweet new year!) they also think I'm nuts for eating peanut butter with my bananas, so it's obvious that we have different tastes. 

nakavika for days!

I'm sad to say that mandarin season is coming to an end. We've been eating those things like they're going out of style! Which, in fact, they are. In about a month. The mandarins here come in all forms: jumbo, bitty, soft, juicy, extra sweet, mild, and everything in between. The ones the ship carries from West Ambae are very delicious, so it's always a treat when my family on West sends us a citrus love gift. There hasn't been a day that I haven't eaten a mandarin (some days it's more like 10+) and pissing like a maniac in response! I've religiously been singing a part of a phish song called wombat that I can't stop listening to: 

Spit out the seeds

Gnaw on the pulp

Suck on the juice

Simmer the rinds 

Once I start peeling, it's habit to start singing. My brother Vira wanted to learn it, so now I have fun overhearing him repeating the mandarin mantra, too. I don't think I will ever forget the association of the song with this season!

Before mandarins, it was nakatambol. Little yellow balls a little bigger than a ping pong that really don't do much for me, but they love them here. There's a tree outside my house and kids were climbing all over it to collect the nakatambol. I ate my fair share, but they didn't have much taste and were hard and chewy. Oh well! Can't win us all, nakatambol! 

wag more bark less

After one of the World Cup games, I was enjoying the first tomatoes off the vine and a boy from my parent's village told me to come look inside Mr. Allen's (my teacher-neighbor who refuses to live on campus and walks an hour to school everyday)'s kitchen. Inside was an absolutely terrified tiny black and white puppy. I was then told that they killed the mama dog because she had "rubbish fashion" and now this dog was mine. Just your everyday acquisition!

During training when I was binging on fruit, mainly because I hadn't adapted to the lovely variety of island food, I decided to honor this period of chalkdust torture and shocking meat from a tin by naming a dog pamplemus after the grapefruit/lemon ish fruit I devoured daily. Thanks, by the way, Elizabeth Owen for letting me know that pamplemousse is the French world for grapefruit. The juicy origins of pidgin language! 

So little Mus it is. 

He's a cute little man! He's very puppy like- hardcore playtime and then a spontaneous pass out for a nap. My family dog Lucky just had two boy pups and the three of them have been having play dates. Lucky's pups are super fat and althought a few weeks younger than Mus, tackle him with their bowling ball bodies. Very entertaining! The black one is Livu (leevu) which is a hunting term in local language. He's my family's 4th Livu (2 other ones are still alive) but apparently reminds my family of the original badass Livu, so he had to take on the name as well. I named the other one Kilo because he's such a fattie. At first they were rightfully selfish with their mama's milk, but now I've seen Mus sliding into the feeding sessions unbothered!

those crazy eyes

Lava and Kwen are warming up to him, but aren't really digging his constant playful energy. Unless he's sleeping, which is a Mus mode I think we all really like! 

sniffin out the new guy

cuddle buddies

Dogs have a hard time surviving here, whether it's due to neglect or disease. I'm putting some faith in Mus, but trying not to get too attached just yet. I knew I wanted a dog here, but was hesitant after seeing how animals are treated. I don't know how fair it would be to bring a dog back with me to America where freedom via island life can't be achieved (especially for 4 legged animals!) but the thought of leaving one here to be hit and kicked sickens me. I'm trying to use my time here to actively model how important it is to treat animals with kindness. I don't know how many times I've given a friendly rant on how dogs are "man's best friend" and forever loyal, concepts not always well-accepted here. I make a point to pet dogs (who always immediately back away from fear of me hitting them and then finally accept me) and to give them a belly rub here and there! Everyone makes scrunched up faces, laughs, points, and says sori because the dogs are dirty, but I just say they need love, too. In this world of domestic, child, and animal abuse, I'm just hoping to show them that giving love is easy and really feels good! We'll see what situations and conversations arise with this challenge I'm taking on. 

A bumper sticker I never minded being behind and a creed we should all consider considering - wag more, bark less!

My dear friend and laughing partner in daily text banter Dave is a volunteer on Tanna. He told me tonight that he ate cat after kava as a wasemaot (wash 'em out.. snacks that help you forget the taste of the shell you just downed) and was informed of his doings after swallowing several pieces. Yikes! He's being a good sport about it, but definitely a bit freaked out. For the record, Dave said it tasted "a lot like chicken, but the guilt that accompanied it gave it an astringent aftertaste that was decidedly unpleasant." What a catastrophe!

That reminded me of Jen who is on Aneityum. She went to a village to get a puskat and asked the woman behind the counter at the store if she had any.  Aneityum inhabitants are notorious for eating dogs and cats on the reg, so once she said 100 vatu and went to the back shelves, Jen was afraid the woman thought she meant cat for eating. Instead, the woman brought back biscuits and they realized how much  local accent "puskat" sounds like "biscuit!" Classic mixup. The shopkeeper had kittens to give away, too, so Jen left the village with her new little kitten who she of course named Biscuit.  

I slept at Jessie Rae and Nathan's last night to get ready for my voyage. They live much closer to port, and I know I've mentioned it before, but they are such good company! I'm so glad to have them close by and can't imagine how many less laughs my life would have if I didn't know them. 

my second home

As we were sitting around storying, we heard their puskat Pistol make a wild noise. We ran outside and discovered that she had gotten spooked (our theory is the sketchy neighborhood cat tried to woo her) and fell into the well in their front yard! This well is bout 10 feet across and 20 feet deep - envision an absurdly deep kiddie pool. 

the witch's cauldron/kitty pool

So the well used to be used for drinking water, but after a while (like many wells here) it got contaminated and filled with everything under the sun. And then the Rayles arrived! So everyone uses it for their water seal toilets here and it's close to drying up completely. Once that happens, they're going to clean it out and build a cover to keep it usable. Really gotta thank the lack of rain dances because the water in there was just enough for Pistol to tread along without drowning. 

A dramatic scene onfolded- Nathan has the bucket trying to scoop the screaming cat, but has little luck. At one point he got halfway up the wall with cat in tow until she plopped out and continued her ear-splitting wailing. The neighbor comes over with a wire and attempts hooking the puskat up by the belly. Meanwhile, Jessie Rae and I are peering over the edge of the well dodging cockroaches, shining flashlights, and hysterically cracking up at what we're witnessing. It was too alarming and strange and unlike life as we know it to not lose it completely. All the while, Pistol is swimming laps, attempting to scale the wall and failing, and making the most cringeworthy sounds of dispair. And all of this, with the realization that we shouldn't be laughing but helping Nathan save the puskat, made us laugh even harder! 

Somehow the neighbor with the wire, which we all thought was a lost cause, got the cat and raised it to safety! No animals were harmed during this rescue. Except most likely Pistol having difficulty coughing up a fattie furball after licking herself clean for endless hours afterwards. 

That's all the big updates in animal world! Lava and Kwen are still being badass puskats, constantly on the prowl for snacks. They're good company and haven't developed the annoying meow sequence that Jessie Rae and Nathan's cats are pros at. Amen!

rat, it's what's for breakfast

foot over the head and a pig's tooth.. very casual

technological difficulties and reliefs

Mid May my watch kicked the can. I am currently experiencing the effects of watch liberation and loving it! The days both fly by and crawl along, but in a pleasant way. I still use my phone alarm to wake up in the morning- my brain has successfully learned to ignore the sound of early morning cockadoodle dooing (or coo coo reh tu, the Vanuatu cockadoodledoo) I do miss the two daily beep blasts that helped ensure I was eating my malaria meds, but I haven't actually missed too many days, so that's something. 

The plunger washing machine works great! Or atleast it works better than not washing my clothes at all! Put the clothes in the bucket with detergent, soak em in the sun for a bit, and give it a dozen good plunges (is that the right verb for the plunger?) every 15 minutes. Twist, dunk in clean water, twist again, and hang to dry! Gotta love basic technology. 

Speaking of, my fried laptop, which is not as tasty as a fried green tomato, is in Port Vila under operation to remove the hard drive. It is being repurposed and recycled and that's the end of that ride. I guess typing out my thoughts on this old iPhone is the closest I can get to watching an episode of something good! 

Computerlessness just means more time for other activities such as learning to tie various knots, observing chicken laying patterns, and teaching myself how to pluck a guitar. Additionally, more time for the alternate universe that books provide! I've happily devoured some more great books this past month- 

The World According to Garp by John Irving

Dharma Bums and On The Road by John Kerouac 

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

I'm elbow deep in both A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving and Damien the Leper by John Farrow. One's on the kindle for night time reading and the other is a paperback that satisfies the need to hold an actual book. Both stories are so good that I can't put either down to finish the other, so it's a big swirl of storyline overlap. I think John Irving is becoming one of my favorite authors and I hope to get through more of his stuff while I'm here! 

I was high with anticipation because my new laptop was supposed to be on it's way from the states to Vanuatu! I guess the word "supposed" gives away the unfavorable fate that sometimes accompanies the things we want most. (You can't always get what you waaant..) 

One extendee volunteer, Michael Stafford, was home for a wedding and was planning on bringing Laura and my computers (that were shipped to his folks' home) back to the islands. Sadly, I was informed last night that something happened with FedEx, and 2 day shipping turned into 3 weeks. The laptops got to Michael's house the day after he left to come back here. Womp womp.

As frustrating as it is, I will gladly admit how lucky I am that this is my biggest "problem" right now. Rerouting is underway and detours are being made - I guess that a business degree in Supply Chain Management is coming in handy, mom and dad! The computers are now being sent to Dave's family and he'll bring them back in September after his brother's wedding. End of October, I'll get to meet my new laptop when I go into Vila for my trip South! Let's see what kind of house projects and how many books I can get myself wrapped up in until then... 

kakae part 2

food!

I'll start this entry with the banana song that I sing at least once a week because the kids go nuts (I wasn't going to say bananas) over it. Just another good ol camp song 

Bananas come together! Bananas separate! And now you... 

Go bananas, go go bananas (x2)

Nao yu pilim ko lo left, yu pilim ko lo raet

Yu pilim ko lo midel, afta - mmm kakae! mmm kakae!

They're usually shy going bananas during the first round of singing, so this forces the song leader (you guessed it, me) to go extra super bananas. This encourages full banana-going during the second time around. And trust me, you never sing the banana song just once

My lovely friend Laura has taught me some cooking tricks and given me bigfala inspiration to experiment with whatever's around. During training we made tacos for our counterparts, so I've been making tortillas here and filling them with whatever's growing! The first family taco night (I use the word taco lightly considering it's not good ol fashioned Mexican tacos at site) I made susut (tastes like zucchini) onion pepper tacos with spicy salsa and papaya salad. Next I made kumala (sweet potato) tacos with a citrusy salsa. Round 3 was fish and lobster tacos with the another mix of salsa. Everything has been delicious! My perception of the actual tastes might be clouded by my excitement for cooking, but everyone cleared their plates which is something to be happy about! When I made spaghetti in training, my family tried a bite and then just stated at it as if I had just served themmermaid guts. 

So tortillas are pretty easy and always satisfying. And I use the leftover ones for breakfast tacos! Next time the butcher has mince meat, I'm cooking real deal tacos - my mama hasn't stopped talking about them since Vila town! And cilantro. She says she's never tasted anything like it, so I'll have to find some seeds for our garden. 

I've been using my bush kitchen a lot lately! I usually boil water in the morning for coffee and put it in the thermos for a cup of afternoon tea (and round 2 of coffee, gotta make those grounds last!) or add to my bucket bath water for a hot swim! I call bush kitchen time "campfire delight" because at camp that's what we'd call building a fire and roasting marshmallows with a bunch of kids. 

When it comes to things other than water, cooking can be tricky. It's not just starting and maintaining the fire, but also managing the heat so that you don't crispy fry everything. I really enjoy my daily campfire delight! On Mondays during work party, the kids will collect firewood and dry coconut leaves for me. The leaves are the best kindling and virtually endless in coconut country! Coconut husks burn wonderfully, too, and make great tools for earth ovens. I've gotta write a whole entry on coconut trees and their uses because it's pretty unbelievable! 

A funny last side note - Laura was on a ridiculous quiche kick for the last few months. However, she has now confirmed that frittata is the new quiche! So I must trust her and continue learning her ways in the bush kitchen. 

suffixes soris and sneezes

My Anti Yvonne next door has a granddaughter who she on and off cares for while her daughter teaches in south Ambae. Dorina has been featured on here as the January photo of my future babies with knives calendar. If you've forgotten, here's another one of her and a bui biti (small knife in language, one of Dorina's favorite phrases)

Dorina's mama just had a baby and now the whole gang is staying on school grounds for a couple of weeks. I love little Dorina and miss her when she's back with her mama, so her presence trumps the new ever-crying 2 week old baby sister. This brings me to one of the funny things going on in Vanuatu - Dorina's little sister's name is Dorinette! 

When they told me, I wasn't even surprised. Simply sisters sharing everything but a suffix. People love doing that here, giving their kids far too similar-sounding names! And it usually starts with the same letter as the papa's name (Donald in this case) which makes it fun to guess the variations possible for offspring. A couple examples close to home:

The headmaster at my school, Mr. Brent, is the brother of Braun, Brenton, Braunel, Braunson, and Belinda!

My uncle Colin is proud father of Clifton, Clinton, Clara, Clemson, and Coliamson  

My uncle Edmonson is papa to Edinson, Edrino, Edriano, Ediano, and Jonas. Poor Jonas! Or lucky Jonas? I can't decide. 

Dorina's grandparents, Yvonne and Uncle Dimas have Denson, Dixon, Dennison, Dinickson, Densley, and Daphne

My aunt Hemilton (Mama Green Thumb) and her husband Fred are the parents of Florinda, Flonette, and Flonickson (who goes by Vira and lives with my mama and papa while the girls live in West Ambae)

It cracks me up! But I guess they could say the same about a culture that names their children directly after the parents. We've got enough juniors and treys and the fourths at home to match the population of Vanuatu! 

When I first met Dorina in march, she cried at the sight of me - I'm the first tuturani or white man she's ever seen. But slowly she's warming up to bumbu Alison. Bumbu (boom-boo) is the term used for grandparent, great aunt, great uncle, all the greats and grands, including grandchildren! So Dorina is my bumbu, too!

happy go lucky

No more crying and running away with complete terror on her face and now, four months later, we're almost to the point of her allowing me to hold her! Slow progress is better than none. She loves saying my name, al-son, and even likes my animals from a distance. She'll come sit on my porch singing out to them and running away when they try to play. She affectionately calls all of them "lava" now... "all" as in all animals - not just lava, kwen, and mus. Whoops!

Dorina's language is a mix of local, Bislama, and baby toktok. She'll blabber something off and everyone will laugh. I'll ask them what she said and half the time it's something funny in local language and the other half it's just baby chat. Everyone, especially me, finds it funny that I'm in the weird position of not knowing the difference! 

do do bird in my kitchen!

Another part of life here is saying you're sorry. All day you'll here "sorrrri" this and "oh! sori" that. Sori basically means I feel bad for you in some way, whether it's because I'm stepping in front you to get somewhere or I just finished my meal. When I made my first wakobaot to Lolowai with Mami (aunt) Amina, she said sori the whole way- both because I hadn't walked to town yet and because I was having to make the trek. I'll offer to scratch some coconuts for the laplap and multiple people will say sori during the process. I have to remind them that I chose to scratch and they shouldn't be sori, and they always find this funny. Most things are funny here. He who laughs, lasts! 

A prime example of sori is my now short hair. Without exaggeration, every day since returning to site from training part 2, someone has asked me (already knowing the answer) if I've cut my hair. Without fail, my "yes" is always followed by a "sori." Every time! It's amazing! I tell them not to feel sori, that I cut it short on purpose and that I love it - it's not as hot with short hair and bucket baths are cut in half. They still say sori and make me promise not to spoil my hair again. 

So something some friends and I talked about in Vila is what happens when something bad happens and you really want to say a good sincere sorry? The power of the word is lost among the sea of unnecessary soris! And for this unfortunate thought, we all simultaneously said a good ol "sori!"

Sorry ceremonies are kastom and still used today. If there's a feud or someone acted with really bad fashion, the chief will bring the families together in the nakamal for a ceremony. Everything that happened is said out loud and there's an exchange of pig tusks. After this, all is good. Well on the surface, I imagine. It rids the community of tension, but it doesn't change the underlying problems. I respect the tradition and understand its purpose, but I've heard about some sorry ceremonies and I'm shocked that things are "okay" now between everyone. I guess that's life for ya though. 

Sneeze closure. I never knew it was a tissue (whoops, I mean an issue - haha had to) until I got here. No one says bless you after a sneeze! During training part 2 some of us talked about how bizarre it is, both that we need sneeze closure and that it's missing here. 

You just made a ridiculous sound and facial movement and then you're stranded out there waiting for someone to acknowledge your near death experience. Though I'm pretty sure that's one of those things we take as true but never really look into for ourselves. Like if a dog's mouth is actually cleaner than a human's. Also not true. 

It's not like there's not enough sneezing going on to constitute an acceptable method of recognition. Trust me, plenty of snot. My friend Michelle kept referring to "the 11's" and I finally asked and found out that it's the two lines of snot coming down from all the little noses. Yum! 

And the funny part is how it's second nature for us to say bless you. So of course I still say it out of life habit. But here everyone stares and laughs and mumbles something in language, probably about the white man doing black magic. 

So now I just go with it. Sometimes I throw out a gazunteight to make them laugh and it always reminds me of my dad (not because he's German- quite far from it! But he's always been a loyal gazunteighter)

growing