Friday, 15 January 2016

coconuts

If I’ve learned one thing while living in Vanuatu, it is resourcefulness. Don’t have the right part? Broken? Something’s missing? You want that to do that? No problem. The Ni-Vanuatu are the handiest bunch of humans I’ve had the pleasure of living around. I feel like the same could be said for most islanders or people living in remote places without access to everything we conveniently have around every corner. You learn (you perfect!) to work with what you’ve got, and usually the outcome is even more impressive than you could have imagined. They are masters at adapting and thriving. And after two years, I think I’ve been lucky enough to have a little of their innovative magic rub off on me, too.

The best example of this and the treasure chest of inspiration? The coconut tree: arguably the most versatile thing on the entire planet. That’s a pretty extreme statement, but time and time again I’m introduced to a new way this tree can be useful. And because I’m writing this alone underneath a few coconut trees, there’s no one to challenge my decision to deem it queen of the universe.


phil drinking airport kava



 I feel like it’s about time I write a post on coconuts as to forever seal it in my memory as nature’s masterpiece. I sat down with my parents and we tried to come up with all of the ways the coconut tree is utilized to maximize happiness. I’m without a doubt missing some and botching some basic parts-of-a-plant terms due to not paying attention in biology and re-learning nature in bislama. Here goes nothin!

young roots: medicinally to treat a sore tooth and mixed into other remedies

strong roots: local rope

trunk/stumpa: strong wood for building fences, stools, benches, bases for bush toilets. people also use the stumpa to practice climbing (and collect delicious green coconuts!)

skin of the trunk: medicinally to help lighten your too yellow pee and mixed into other remedies

green leaves/fronds: weave into baskets, mats, fans, toys, hats, a place to roast meat. also can be woven to construct your roof or walls. the curved end is a dustpan and the stem of each individual leaf can be plucked and turned into a broom or used for handicrafts. tied together as a fishing net. and of course, a key element in properly decorating for a celebration

dry leaves: my everyday kindling, stuffed into calico to make a mattress,  underneath a mat or mattress

green coconut: thirst quencher (equivalent to drinking an ORS packet, according to our pc medical officer) feed yourself, parrot or flying fox with the soft meat, and feed your soul via homebrew

dry coconut: scratch/grade for coconut milk and cook it for cream. or overcook it and enjoy caramelized coconut crumble. make coconut oil, jam, lollies, and other treats. drying out the flesh makes copra, Vanuatu’s main export. burn the meat for a local mosquito coil. feed for every animal except cows. medicinally to treat sit sit wota or diarrhea

shell of a dry coconut: bowl, cup, traditional vessel for drinking kava. they float and can be tied together to create a raft. used handicrafts and as baskets blong titis or bras!

dry husk: kindling, mulch, sponge, brush rope, toothbrush, hat for kastom dances. nailed to a tree, creating a vase for vines and other decorative plants to grow out of. a warm, safe container for abandoned chicks who don’t have their mama’s feathers to cuddle up in at night

navara: this is where the cycle for coconut trees begins and ends. navara is a dry coconut with a sprout sticking out of it – a coconut regrowing itself. The texture of the meat is hard to describe and after minutes of contemplation, laura came up with dense meringue, which sounds as close as its gonna get. it’s sweet and delicious and the pigs love it, too! use to make oil and to wash your hands after a day in the garden

flower parts: young leaf eaten before it flowers and apparently makes what my parents kept calling “toddy” and the flowers are food for flying foxes and parrots. The fibrous stalk used as a broom or rake, and the dried canoe-shaped part (again, sorry for my lack of real terms) is a toy boat for kids. all of the dried parts  make excellent tinder, too!

coconut plantation: as a collective unit, coconut trees create space for animals to graze and humans to nourish themselves. The plantation is where the communities get together and shell out copra in teams to support individual families. Shelling copra is exhausting work, but circling up for storian and copra shelling is at the heart of Vanuatu. Most islands are covered in plantations. They are a beautiful place to pass through, but look out below! because when a dry coconut is ready to drop, it doesn’t look both ways before falling.

i forgot to take a bunch of coconut pictures, but will make sure to stick them in this post once I'm back at site. Grace lives in Saratamata and works in a real live office with an ethernet cord, so she'll help me out!

Monday, 11 January 2016

mared life

Weddings, or “mareds” in Bislama, are a significant part of kastom here in Vanuatu. It usually takes a few years to save up in preparation for one. You are expected to feed the whole Northeast Ambae community a few meals and collect enough mats to pay the bride price and the new married couple. The two main elements of payment are woven pandanas mats and pig tusks. Throw in some yams, live pigs, and other island currency, and you’ve got yourself a fair payment. The value of these things add up to thousands of US dollars and are shared out among the families. Mats are kept in rotation throughout the community and the process continues with the next mared. Right now it’s wedding season! Since school let out, there have been 5 mareds in Lolovenue with a few more before February. I love mareds because they are joy-filled gatherings of dancing, laughter, tradition, and gudfala kakae. And anyone who’s anyone goes, so you get to shake hands with every man and woman and play with all the cute babies. Most recently was Dexter and Edina’s mared. They both live in Vila, but can back to have a proper island wedding. He is half man Aneityum, so a whole squad of his family and friends took ships up to Ambae to celebrate. This made it a fun fusion of kastom from both places!

On Ambae, mareds are 2-3 days long. Day one is always the pig killings. In order to have a kastom wedding, you must ceremoniously kill at least one pig, earning a chiefly title. Edina’s papa Selwyn Tavoa has a high chiefly ranking, so I was the only one surprised to see eight pigs lined up for her to kill. I found out my mama killed 10 at her wedding! Another reason, as if I needed one, to prove that she is a badass. Edina killed the pigs in the traditional way - with blows to the head with a wooden club. We all drank kava and returned home that night with fresh pig to cook for dinner.

The next morning we walked back to Lolomanganda for day 2, the kastom mared. The day always starts at the bride’s parents’ village with my favorite part, bolo. Bolo is a kastom dance where you pace back and forth in a group. There are a few men in the middle who lead the chants and stick around for the whole thing, but everyone else is free to join and leave as they please throughout the 4+ hours. A simple recipe: two steps to the left, two steps to the right, hands clapping to a complementary beat, traditional tunes sung in harmony, and everyone in high spirits. Man, I love bolo! They sing so many ancient Ambae songs and I’m sure the words are beautiful, but because I’m clueless on that end, I get to enjoy their voices as another instrument. An oldfala or two walk around passing out sips of ginger beer or palm wine or whatever was been brewed special for the event. Men and women are already drinking kava, even though it’s 10 am. I tried this at a pig killing once, but spent the whole day in hazy (albeit happy) uselessness.



At some points during bolo, the energy is uncontrollable and instead of stepping back and forth, everyone is hopping and stomping and dancing! Women are swinging pieces of calico over their heads, men are hooting and animal calling, and we’re all immersed in a dust cloud of pure joy. Bolo is a magical feeling I’ll never forget. What makes it so special is that it happens at every kastom wedding, always has, and I have no doubt that it always will. Kastom has changed and weakened in many ways, but dancing bolo will never die.

I stuck around for most of the Bolo because I know this may be one of my last chances to partake in the ritual. Until, as I’ve been made to promise over and over again, I find a man and bring him back to Ambae for a kastom mared ceremony of my own. It was a sweaty, dusty, hell of a time. I was confused when we all started shifting our bolo over to the earth ovens where they cooked some of the pig from the day before. The men started lifting up the thatched roof of the bush kitchen and we all carried it back over to the dance floor, still maintaining the two steps left, two steps right routine. We held up the roof and danced with it while everyone went wild and eventually scooted over to a burning fire and plopped the roof down on top of it. I had never seen this! I later learned that this is a rare kastom that happens when the daughter of a bigfala chief gets married. And just when I was certain that if you’ve seen a dozen bride price ceremonies, you’ve seen em all! 

The bolo continues on as the mama’s mat ceremony begins. Every time, without fail, I find myself dumbfounded as I watch endless women come out of the woodworks with mats on their heads to converge in the center of the action. This tradition is only for the married women. They unfold their mats and place them on top of each other until you’ve got a ridiculous stack of beautiful hand-woven, hand painted mats. This is only a fraction of the mats floating around the community, another fact that blows my mind. I love that mats hold currency here because they indirectly give women a sense of value – mat making is purely a woman’s sport. Once the hundreds of mats are placed on top of each other, they are folded up and will travel to the next location. Now the bride sits in a chair with a big umbrella leaf on her head and everyone lines up and puts more mats on her head. 

mats on mats on mats





Some more of my favorite wedding traditions: all of the aunts of the bride and the groom come together with the bride in a small house. They sing to her and cover her in coconut oil. After this, they each pair up with a woman from the other side of the family and cover each other in coconut oil. It’s all very silly and messy. Another auntie ritual is with a small dead pig. They pass it around, pretending it’s a baby that they are breastfeeding. Over the shirt, you’re hoping? Usually, but there is always one or two clown aunts that lift their shirt and put the mouth of the dead pig straight to her titty! She receives a roar of laughter in return. They put this dead pig on some woven coconut leaves along with taro, manioc, and yam. The women are inside the house and the uncles are outside. They begin a game of tug of war until the food has made it outside and everyone dances around it. In fact, there is a lot of dancing around things. During bolo, the women dance around it and the bride carries another dead pig on her back. 






theres a human un

little lavenda 

myra and her mama lorinette

Once all of the activities wrap up, the trucks are loaded with the mats and everyone walks to the village where the man lives. Dexter is manAneityum but his uncle married womanAmbae, so they used this village to host part 2. It was a 45 minute bush walk to Lovuitakombola. When we arrived, bolo (led by a different set of big man) was already in action, so I joined in again! My mama claims that this one sugary iced coffee drink called Breaka is her medicine. This is almost as absurd as me claiming that bolo is mine. It just feels so good!

Once everyone arrives, there are more mats and pig tusks laid out. Then close family members sit on the mats and people cover them in calico and baby powder. Have I mentioned the bizarre role of baby powder in Vanuatu culture? Whenever there is a celebration, people cover each other in it! No clue how it all started, but it’s everywhere in Vanuatu! White dust clouds cover the party and everyone loves it. Sometimes a community clown such as John Biti will have his turn and everyone goes wild while they dose him in baby powder. After all of this, the man’s parents present the bride price. They had some Aneityum mats, yams, live pigs, and a huge dead cow that they brought out! Never seen that before. There were a few speeches made by the two papas and my papa. My papa’s toktok was a long, drawn-out, half-drunken ramble about how this wedding built a bridge between Aneityum and Ambae. It was funny watching his words wander in circles, getting plenty of laughs along the way. The rest of the day was eating, drinking kava, dancing, and hanging out until the sun went down and it was time to go home.

bolo forever!

more mats!

rolin and my mama


baby powder dump
The next day is the church wedding. Sometimes this happens, sometimes not. But because the couple lives in Vila, they decided to do it in one big shebang. They kept stressing that it would begin at 10 o’clock sharp, so I was looking forward to seeing what time it would actually start. We arrived and found a shady place to sit. Around 12:30, the people from Aneityum led the wedding party to the church. Everyone looked so fancy! We decided to sit outside for the ceremony because it was too hot. After that, the couple cut the cake and there was a champagne toast! They passed out juice to the crowd and I was invited to join the wedding circle for the real stuff. Out of tiny shot glasses, we all drank the champagne and cheered for the new couple. The wedding party exited and had costume change while the food line started up. We didn’t even join it for an hour or so because it was a slow moving mess. They should’ve followed Daphne and Donald’s pre-boxed lead, but that’s a different story. Meanwhile, there was live music and dancing. After everyone ate, the Aneityum youth came out in kastom garb and performed some dances for us. They were great! They’d do a few dances then everyone would dance to a few songs (more circling around the middle of the dance floor) and then they’d come back out and share few more of their kastom dances. It was a lovely afternoon that flowed into the night.

one of our more awkward mother daughter photos

here comes the bride!


wedding party

a marriage of the cultures... tablets cameras flashes

champagne shot glass toastin


costume change

food line

aneityum kastom dance


At one point, the bride’s papa Selwyn gave a speech. The day before he had told me that some people were saying he was a poison man, or someone who does black magic, and he was deeply offended. As you can imagine, being labeled as a poison man is pretty taboo. He asked if he should bring it up and I advised him to avoid the subject and just be the kind, funny, oldfala that he is because it’s his daughter’s day. Well, when he stood up to talk, I thought “here goes!” He talked about how he cried all morning, but they were tears of joy. (everyone claps) And how lucky he was to have this beautiful celebration with the whole community. (everyone claps again) And how happy he is for his daughter and Dexter. (everyone claps and cheers) And also how he’s not a poison man. Selwyn!!!! Everyone was awkwardly silent, because what do you do? Clap? Yahoo, you’re not a poison man! It was a funny and uncomfortable moment frozen in time that soon dissipated into more music and dancing. But hilarious all the same.

Breakthrough, a Christian church group, is headquartered in Lovuitokambola. At the end of the night, they unloaded a truckload of garbage bags full of second hand clothes. They were giving them out for free. It turned into a madhouse! But a pretty civil one. Everyone was giddy with their free finds. Then they led devotion (I knew there was a catch!) and we all went home. An exhausting, but delightful 3 days! 


wan doti gel

Here’s the article I wrote for our volunteer newspaper The Van Am about the bottle brick project I’ve been working on at site. I learned about eco-bricks when I lived at PLACE, a cooperative in Oakland, before my service. Bottle bricking is a practice I’ll carry back home with me to the states and I encourage everyone to give it a try!

Oh! And “sak” means throw, “ples blo doti” means trash area, and all the other Bislama is just toktok nomo.



Wan Doti Gel

Let’s talk trash. Not the usual village gossip – “Yu bin luk karen blo Hendrixon? Hemi busi we.” or “Man. Sundei lo jej Jenista hemi bin spaeglas witim niufala fren blem.” or “Hemi go wea? Mi tink se hemi go lo Santo. Truia hemi stap ran albaot no lukaotem gud famli blo hem.” Or the many soap opera-esque stories I create in my head to entertain myself while I’m silently sitting in a bubble of language chatter. You get it. Not that kinda trash, the authentic stuff. The twisty bags, the breakfast cracker containers, the noodles wrappers. The stuff people sak out the truck window and use as fire starter. This is what I’ve been pretty fixated on lately. Things have gotten pretty dirty over here! There are few places more humbling than knee deep in someone else’s trash. Which is where I keep finding myself, getting excited (more than I’ll admit) about finding plastic. Sometimes I’ll get lucky and the plastic will be clean-ish and dry and that, of course, is cause for even more excitement! Bring out the trashy dancing! I do a little jig, stick it in my bag, and keep digging.

For the last few months or so I’ve been collecting non-biodegradable trash such as plastic, batteries, and Styrofoam and building eco-bricks with the students at my school. If you haven’t heard my rant before, eco-bricks are plastic bottles stuffed with trash and used to build anything you want. They are great because they are free, clean up the mess, and anyone can make them – even kindys with a little help. 

You fill the bottle with plastic and pack it in with a stick until there is way more trash stuffed in there then you thought possible. I mean, really, these things are like Mary Poppin’s handbag. Fill in the gaps with softer plastic. If you’ve got batteries or hard plastic, you can cut out a door near the mouth of the bottle and seal it back up when you’re done feeding it. And make sure you choose some colorful trash for the very bottom, it’ll be peeking out of your creation!

Once you’ve made a bunch of these, you can start building. There are great references out there explaining bottle bricks and how to construct with them. Specifically, ecobricks.org was super helpful and easy to follow. Our school decided to start with a little bench. There are not many plastic bottles on Ambae that aren’t being used as kava transporters, so we were a bit limited. Thanks to Seli and the staff, I had a few bags full of empties from Vila that they sent over, too! Another weird thing to be delighted about, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. Everyone in Lolowai harbor was confused and amused when I opened my freshly-delivered cargo full of… trash, and was genuinely thrilled about it.

 My friend Samantha visited and I figured that this would be an easy breezy project for us to tackle. Like almost every project I find myself tangled up in, I underestimated the work that would go into it. Sometimes I just picture things completing themselves. Mix the cement, pour it into the hole, sprinkle fairy dust, and poof! A market house! This, I have found out the slow and unfortunate way, is not so. And in the case of the bottle brick bench, the same goes. It was hard, but it was fun. One of my favorite memories of construction day was Sam singing “Vacation, all I ever wanted” and us almost peeing our pants at the truth in that. But at the end of the day we got to sit on the finished product and feel good. What didn’t feel good, however, were our fingers for the next few days. Take note: cement kakaes your skin and makes your hands covered in holes, burning, and very useless. But you just built something, so it’s time to relax anyway! 

It’s a simple little bench tucked away underneath a mandarin tree by the road. It serves its purpose as supporter of resting asses and subject of “look what the tuturani built” conversations. If results were measured by tangibility, it wouldn’t do much justice. The best things that have come out of the bottle brick project have little to do with the bench.

One noticeable change I’ve seen is how much less trash there is surrounding the school grounds. The kids picked ol ples blo doti clean! This visual difference is something – the place no longer looks like a scattered dump and the teachers and students are more conscious of what they’re saking. And I am, too. Until I scattered my own collected trash out on the classroom floor for us to pack into empties, I hadn’t realized how much waste I create and throw away. This project forced me to ask myself, “Where is away?” And I’m happier knowing that this waste has found a new home – cradle to cradle – instead of just being thrown out back or burned at the stake – cradle to grave. And to top it all off (ha!) I’ve really loved the impromptu trash talks people ask me to give. What to burn, what not to burn, what to do with batteries. My favorites are the nakamal speeches on BPA requested by this apu or that uncle whenever I show up at a kava bar with my papa. If these instances spark interest in anyone, even if it’s just a kava drunk thought trail, than that’s fantastic. That’s what it’s all about. Making us more mindful about our everyday practices and the impact of our actions. Hemia nao!

Furthermore, bottle bricking is wonderful if classroom teaching isn’t your favorite thing. I’ve gotten to talk about cleaning up the environment, actually clean up the environment, and organize trash dances, all outside of the confines of the classroom. You can get creative and throw in plenty of English literacy if that interests you, too. Use the bottles as paper and have spelling tests on them. Discuss with the older students our roles as protectors of the land and have them write a paragraph or essay about it. Write vocabulary words on the bottles and hide them like easter eggs, whoever finds and defines the most wins. Set the bottles up as pins and go bowling! If you knock down 5, you have to come up with a 5-letter word about whatever this week’s theme is. Or make a sentence with five words. Or pretend you’re a puskat for 5 meows. Whatever works! 

In fact, my favorite teaching days are what I call “free for all” when the class goes outside and collects trash. You’ll be amazed to see how exhilarating this is for the students. They all do the quiet “yes yesss” hissing and run out the door like I’ve told them they get to do probably anything other than pick up trash. I’ve even found a few gems while on these outings – a sturdy bowl that just needed a dent popped out of it and a couple of knives that could use a good sharpening. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure! And speaking of that, this project inspired some more trash to treasure projects as well. Like transforming beer bottles into hanging vases and recycling tin cans into funky wind chimes. We painted the oldfala water tank at my school and now look at an underwater mural instead of a grey cement cylinder. The students in the Niko Si aka Yu Yes aka good behavior club got to paint their sea creatures at the end of the school year, which made them super cool for being good kids. It was so fun watching their creativity flow on this huge canvas. The beautiful tank art is a reminder of the power of positive reinforcement and the joys that come with collective arts and crafts!  

So, where to start? Visit ecobricks.org and download their vision and construction PDF guides. Make a model bottle brick. Or 8. Present the idea at a staff meeting and teach them how to build them first. When I introduced it to the classes, I had a whole spiel I went through. On the board we listed out aelan kakae. I would use corn as the example and talked about the husk and how it protects the food inside. I asked the students what you do with the covering once you’re ready to eat the corn – sak it. Ok, afta? The husk rots and returns to the earth (learning the local word for ground or land helped me with this). Next we listed out kakae blong stoa. I asked what you do with the noodles wrapper once you’re ready to eat the noodles – sak it. Ok, afta? Stumped! Because, as we know, the plastic doesn’t rot and return to the earth, but I think that can be hard to conceptualize when littering is accepted and normal here. So we’d talk this out and discuss why it’s bad. And also why burning plastic is bad (get into whatever science they’re itching for!) and if burning and saking are out of the question, what do we do? We bottle brick! 

Explain the steps, the rules, the purpose, etc. and there you go. Shoot any questions you have my way and once I’m gone in March, take advantage of Caroline and Cole’s toolbox. Their bottle brick project is a huge success and I know they’ve come up with some creative elements that work for their community. 

And from one dirty girl to another, happy bricking!










yahoo!



end of a good one

I returned from New Zealand on the 20th totally refreshed and ready to get back to Ambae. On the 23rd while we were flying into Lolowai airport, I was eager and excited thinking about the final leg of this Peace Corps journey. I’d be at site for Christmas, New Years, and the beginning of January. Our COS (Close of Service) Conference is mid-January in Vila and then back home to Ambae for 2 months. I plan on leaving the island on March 14th and I’ll have a week in Vila to sort everything out and then off to Southeast Asia for a few months of traveling. And then! Back to the states to figure out what and where “next” is. 

“How simple it is to acknowledge that all the worry in the world could not control the future. How simple it is to see that we can only be happy now, and that there will never be a time when it is not now.” –Jonathan Harnisch

So for now, time to turn on savor mode and enjoy the happiest place on Earth.



I’ll tell ya what – when I stepped off the plane, it felt like someone turned on the heat, full blast. It’s like being in a sauna except there’s no exit door. 6:00 am rolls around and sweat is already rolling down my neck. You can’t leave the heat, so you just get comfortable with it. Setting up my mat or hammock down by the saltwater is my usual escape, but when the wind is sleeping, even the ocean breeze is hot.

Because of the rush of heavy rains, extra sunshine, and lack of work party students, I returned to an overgrown bush of a school grounds. My parents had spent the last three weeks in the village, so my unattended garden went from polished to wild. I tried to open the corrugated iron door and a faol squacked at me for disturbing her progress – a few days later, 14 baby chicks popped out of the garden! My apologies! My clothesline disappeared into a big island cabbage bush and the path to my toilet was gone. I’ve slowly whacked and hacked my way back into a presentable space, but I haven’t been in too big of a hurry. 

While I was turning the enclosed jungle in my front yard back into a garden, I found some surprise veggies tangled up in the others – capsicum, cayenne and presumably carrots! I haven’t planted cayenne peppers since May 2014, so that was an unexpected find. I did a little surprise veggie dance and asked my parents later to identify the potential carrot heads. Well they got a big kick out of that considering those weren’t carrots, but wild tobacco. They thought it was hilarious! They really couldn’t fathom how someone could get the leaves mixed up, forgetting I am not a fellow lifelong subsistence farming green thumb. As for other exciting garden news, the zucchini I planted sprouted up and my family got to taste it for the first time! They had as much fun saying “zucchini” as they did eating it. 

a banana tree heading to maewo

double decker truck rides


gardens gone wild

former clothesline, current food!
 
hatched
All the pups have gotten a month older and rowdier. Quinn and Fule my puskats are still alive and successfully protected my house from rat intruders while I was gone.

On Christmas Eve morning, my mama woke up early and made laplap and we walked to town to sell it at mami amina’s store. Lolowai was busy with classic last minute Christmas shopping, but with an island twist. The family store now has an icebox and generator which means ice cream and cold drinks and a rotating fan! Fans, quite the invention.

laplap transport - shadow box head

The next morning was Christmas. My family went to church and I got to relax in my own sanctuary – my hammock down by the sea. When they got back we caught two roosters to cook. Catching chickens is one of the funniest activities to participate in. Everyone finds their strategic position around the school grounds and prepares for the chase. Someone chooses the target and chases them in the direction of some anticipating hands. If you’re fortunate it works within the first few tries! My papa roasted one of them in a pot, turning it into an oven by covering it in coconut husks. I cooked the other one in a big chicken soup with homemade noodles. It was all so so delicious. Mami Amina and Uncle Glen came from Lolowai and brought a 24 pack of the new Tusker cans with them. We feasted and drank and listened to Dixie Chicks, Mami Amina’s favorite these days. In the evening we drank some kava and kale’d with wine. It was such a wonderful Christmas and one of my favorite days on Ambae.

jug wine!

classy ladies



merry christmas

The 26th is Vanuatu Family Day which is really just another excuse to enjoy each other’s company. We engaged in a little tie dye ad spent the day relaxing, eating laplap, and playing uno. My papa shot two nawimba and we had that for dinner along with some pig Uncle Glen cooked up. Another good day with good people.

laplap in action
two turtle doves... jk, wild nawimba!
peti wanting me to dye

pros!

masterpieces
 It’s back. The fruit trifecta, that is. Watermelon, Pineapple, and Mango overlap during summer and these three make the sizzling days sweeter. Before I left for New Zealand, we tasted the first watermelons from my parent’s garden this season and they were delicious. Since then we’ve emptied out their stock (somewhere around 100 watermelons!) and have been enjoying everyone else’s. People are pretty generous with fruit here. It’s one of my favorite things. Maybe I’ve talked about this before, but because the land is so rich and the produce plentiful, it allows people to give freely.  There’s nothing better than picking a bundle of mandarins and sharing them with whoever you pass on the road. And produce is cheap enough that even if you do pay the dollar for a pineapple, sharing the juicy goodness is the natural and easy thing to do. Christopher McCandless said “Happiness only real when shared” and I think that definitely applies to fruit.

fellow truck passengers
Sadly I’ve had to face a hard truth when it comes to mangos. Last year I was a bit itchy from the green skin and since then I’ve been careful. Apparently plenty of people are allergic to the skin and its usually just fine to wash your face and hands after indulging. Unfortunately this year the hot hot heat mixed with the itchiness, green or ripe mango, is unbearable and I’ve had to say farewell to one of the tastiest fruits around. It’s too hard to avoid the skin! Unless it’s peeled and chopped up, which it rarely is, I can’t even look at them without getting itchy. Such a tragic love story. One day we visited my Aunt Merelyn’s house and I decided to go all out. She has parrot mangos which are funky looking and super sweet. I ate a ridiculous amount of mangos and for an afternoon, forgot the consequences that would follow. The next few days were spent with two hands simultaneously scratching up and down my face and neck, nonstop. A small price to pay for a scrumptious snack, but not worth it. Adios mangos! We shall meet again in America where I have access to cortisone cream and an electric fan. And sadly there is the face that there are too many mangos. Even if/when everyone here ate a dozen a day, the ground would still be covered in rotten fruit. The pigs have a field day every evening underneath the mango tree at the school entrance gobbling up the fermenting grub.

rotting mangos make happy pigs

sandy the pineapple homebrew guard



 My sister Petrina and I have been conducting our first solar dryer experiments. We’ve tested out bananas, mangos, and pineapple. You chop up the fruit and boil them in sugar water, place them on the trays in the dryer, and let the sunshine do the work. So far, so good! I also did straight banana (without mixing with sugar) and made banana chips that turned out well. And I dried out cayenne and pima peppers, crushed them up, and now have some homemade chili spice! When I go to Vila I’m going to get some more recipes and ideas to bring back.

banana boil

treats

One day we went over to Lololiso, the one-house village where Auntie Merelyn lives. She is one of my favorite people here and her girls are a close second, third, fourth, and fifth. There are actually more of them – one boy and six girls – but Jeffrey lived in Vila and the other girls live in Lolowai. Anyway, they are a lovely, smart, beautiful family and I love when we spend the afternoon at their house. Jeffrey’s son Jared is visiting from Vila for December and January. Being a Vila kid/person is vastly different than being an island kid/person. City vs. country. Jared loves visiting the island and eating fruit off the trees and living bush life. We all climbed trees and played around while the adults talked. When the sun went down we danced around with ember-ended sticks and made floating designs in the sky. We were all entranced by the glow. Whoever said don’t play with fire has never done this!

jared, aunti merelyn, and hego in the back
fire!
On the 28th I went to a kastom mared pretty close to where I live. After part one in the bride’s parent’s village, everyone shifts to the man’s village. While this transition was taking place, I scooted on back home and spent the afternoon swimming and reading down by the water. It’s funny, a year ago I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving a community function early. But now I’m free to move around independently instead of being constrained by social obligations. A positive catch 22 – the more integrated you become, the less you have to integrate!

rockin the tie dye to a wedding!

8 am pig roost


dream station

 The last day of 2015 marked my first Vanuatu church wedding! I’ve been to many kastom weddings, but have never attended one that looked familiar. And to make it even better, it was Daphne and Donald’s wedding. Daphne is my next door neighbor Aunt Yvonne’s daughter and she’s the mama of my favorite bumbu Dorina and her babydoll sister Dorinette. They live in East Ambae, so we got up early and followed my Uncle Dimas’ truck over there. The wedding was darling – westernized and tacky and lovely all bundled up in one. They had the ceremony, cut the cake, took pictures, and we feasted. Usually kakae time is an overwhelming mess – feeding that many people isn’t an easy operation. We usually use leaves instead of plates, so the handling and bundling of food is all over the place. There are too many people serving, a handful of fly swatters, and a snail pace line. But! This time is was so simple. They packed Styrofoam boxes with meals ahead of time and everything was fluid and organized. It was all people could talk about! Because it was an SDA (Seventh Day Adventist) wedding, there was no drinking or kava or even dancing, but that also means no drunk yungfala breaking stuff, so no complaints.



aunti yvonne and dorinette

best friend/mom

fancy fancy


mata and petrina "witnesses" aka bridesmaids

daphne and donald

everyone sighing with ease





sweet little dorina


one in an endless series of awkward family photos

aunties

triple baby powder action

thrilled
 We left in the afternoon and got home just in time to do some sunset yoga down by the beach to say goodbye to 2015. The little cousins came over and I painted their faces and we all vowed to stay up until midnight. I drank kava with my parents, which made staying up a challenge, but I made it! We listened to music and played checkers all night and when the clock struck 12, we banged on the school bell! That day they had informed me of a kastom that when the new year comes, a white cloud will pass over where the sun rises and that means the year will be good. Hmmm. Maybe I would have been hesitant to believe this ritual a year ago. However, I’ve learned not to doubt these kinds of things and lo and behold, it happened. We cheered for the future and I passed out at approximately 12:05. A sweet and simple island new year’s eve.


new years eve joy




 The end is only the end when you forget that there’s a beginning on the other side. I am happy to say goodbye to 2015 because 2016 is full of adventure-filled promise. Who knows what this next year will bring? A lot of change and a lot of excitement, that is for certain. And this past year was wonderful! I had the opportunity to travel around to see new places and familiar faces. I got to meet my sweet nugget of a niece Lyla, share my little world with Samantha, and visit many of my best friends’ sites around Vanuatu. 2015 started in Port Vila, then Aneityum, Tanna, back home to the states, back home to Ambae, a few Santo trips, up to the Banks, over to beautiful New Zealand, and it all wrapped up in the sweetest of places. 2015 was full of tasty meals and laughs and shells of kava. It was also full of tears and growing up, thanks to Cyclone Pam and all the other detours and speed bumps I’ve encountered. And for these, too, I’m eternally grateful. Henry Miller said, “There is only one great adventure and that is inward toward the self.” I’ve learned so much about myself this past year through mindfulness and meditation and doing what I love and the journey within continues on. Cheers!


nipple mushrooms!

kindy with our vanuatu flags