eyebrows, bush knives, and worms

The ni-Vanuatu are the masters of non-verbals. We learned a little bit about this during cultural training, but it really hit me once I got to site and saw it in action. First off, there is no need to say “yes” in this country. When you raise your eyebrows, you are letting everyone around you know that that’s what you mean. It’s like a head nod with your brows! People even do it when it’s dark outside – the pause signifies that the brows were raised, you just couldn’t visually confirm their uplift. This took me a while to get used to. I was confused why no one was responding to me until I realized that I just wasn’t looking! It’s been a good lesson in eye contact and giving my full attention to whomever I’m communicating with. I practice the brow-raising move whenever I remember to do so, and I’m hoping it will become natural soon enough! Another thing they’ve got down is the hand signals. I’ve watched 2+ minute long conversations happen with just the strategic flutterings of the hand. Explaining where you’re going with the point, swirling the finger around to say you’re coming back, and other movements to show what you’ll be doing, how long you’ll be gone, and even who you’ll be with! It’s wild! I try this method of communication out with my papa and brother O’Brien, but it usually ends in laughter and verbal explanations. An eyebrow raise for effort!

I haven’t come across anything as therapeutic as doing yard work with bush knife. When it’s time to trim down the pathway of nalalas behind my house or tame the hibiscus bush tree out front, I just grab my machete and get to hacking. If I want the extra kick, I’ll sharpen my knife and really feel its overwhelming power over the ever-growing greenery! I think it goes without saying that this can lead to an enjoyable game of Going Overboard, which happens more times than not. But guess what! When you’ve got the A+ combination of rich volcanic soil, South Pacific sun, and fresh rain water, it all grows back faster than you could believe. Which only means another chance to whip out the big boy and manicure that lawn, so a big thank you to the elements on this one! Because after a good session with my bush knife, I’m feeling refreshed, revived, and ready for whatever curve balls this place is always throwing atcha.

Not sure if I’ve spent any time talking about the bush knife presence here in Vanuatu, but it’s at least 2:1 to people. Maybe more like 3 or 4:1 now that I think about it! I probably use my bush knife every day – either to crack open a coconut, shave off the pineapple armor, yard work, or cutting shit down to make things. And of course when you go up to the gardens, you’d be silly not to carry it. Sometimes on hikes I’ll have it with me, too, just in casies. Every student at my school has his or her own bush knife. They come to school with them for work parties and are all experts with tools such as this one. Basically every person you pass on the big road is holding a bush knife, heading to their garden or town or any place they please. It’s just part of life here, not taboo or illegal or scary, just practical. And everyone knows his or her own knife. When there are many lying around together, I’ll watch someone pick one up, check the grooves and nicks in the blade, go to the next one, and eventually come upon his familiar friend.

The other day I was swimming and realized how easily it is to take for granted that the Pacific Ocean is a 3 minute walk from the back door. Too many days have passed that I haven’t gone down to take a dip! Now don’t get me wrong, I do my fair share of swimming in the cold parts and soaking in the hot springs, but I know that in the future, I may just look back and slap myself for not milking the shit out of it! So October and November I’m been participating in a one man ocean challenge. Just get your toes in the water every day you’re at site, Alison! But you can’t really just put your toes in cuz once you’re down there, it’s immediate bliss mode. I just recently found out that there is a beautiful reef past the tide pools, so I’ve been snorkeling about over there. Rolin, a woman living in a neighboring village, has a beautiful rocky shore where you can fish, snorkel, and see turtles before sunset! So I’ve been spending time there. This place is nothing short of magical, but I’ve found that sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of that when it becomes your normal routine, your home, your life! So the ocean challenge has helped me break out of that and remember to return to a place of fascination instead of normalcy. How vast and immense the Pacific Ocean is, how its waters come and go in sync with the bigfala moon above, and no matter how big some problems feel, we are still just tiny specks of sparkle drifting along its shores.

Speaking of remarkable oceanic things, October marked a strange thing – the palolo worms. On the nights before the October full moon every year, millions of small noodle-lookin’ worms (I guess they all look like noodles now that I think about it) show up along the shores in Vanuatu. You go down to the waters with your family and collect the squirming spaghetti with nets and buckets, bring them on top, and boil them. They all form together like a black bean burger. Then you eat them. I tasted them, but couldn’t get past the mental block of the blue/red veiny worms mushed together in my mouth. But an experience indeed! My mami grin thamb told me the Ambae kastom behind it. In October, the ocean “like a cow” fills up with the worms in its belly and they venture out to shore to explore. But when the full moon comes, the light shines on the worms and they have to return home to the belly until next year. Or something along those lines! So salty worm patties aren’t my cup of meat, but every ni-Van I’ve encountered thinks they are fantastic! Even if I didn’t enjoy the idea of them going into my belly, I had the chance to watch dozens of people happily devour them for a week straight. Which is all I needed to get my fill!