March 13th, 2020 – Lakatoro

This Friday the 13th has been pretty intense. Last night (early this morning here), Macron announced the closure of all schools in France, and an extension of the country’s containment strategy. Not knowing what is next on the cards, we decided whatever happens, at this point, as family, Jen, Hunter and I need to reunite as soon as possible. Initially the plan was to fly them down to the Southern hemisphere, I could come and join them in New Zealand, and we could sit tight and ride out any troubles ahead from there. Jen tried to book tickets, but the website rejected her payment. And then doubt crept in as to the validity of the plan. Jen slept on it, and I went to work, and both of us started to have second thoughts. As Jen puts it, we need to do what feels right. And flying Jen and Hunter across the world to hanker down in a country which we both once called home just didn’t feel right. So the change of plan is for me to fly back to Cotignac as soon as practicable. Ultimately, as they say, home is where the heart is, and so it makes sense to listen to our hearts on this one. This latest decision may not be the wisest course of action, but it feels much better.

Regretfully, it means I will have to abandon my assignment ahead of schedule, although I think I have laid enough groundwork that I hope to be able to finish my assignment remotely. However, anyone who has worked one of these assignments can tell you that the assignment is only really half the job. Capacity building, soft diplomacy, and relationship forging are all part of what makes a volunteer placement so special and rewarding. None of those can be accomplished remotely.

Having taken the decision, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, and coincidentally I received a message from Andrea informing me that the Peace Corps volunteers (Americans) tend to meet on Friday afternoons at a certain café, and spending time with them could be a good remedy for island isolation if I wanted to join. So I went along, and met with these young guys and girls. The Peace Corps has a policy of placing their volunteers in truly remote locations, with no electricity or water, which by comparison makes my digs seem luxurious. Given I will soon be leaving the island, I still had nearly a full case of beer in the fridge which needed emptying, so I invited them for a sundowner at mine, and they were happy to oblige.

I had been saving a La Tuf IPA which I’d brought with me from Cotignac for a special occasion. It felt right, maybe due to all the other beers I’d had to drink, to open it and enjoy the bittersweet taste, knowing I’m heading home soon.

I’ve heard tell there is a competition for a photo of a bottle of La Tuf the furthest distance from Cotignac. I think that strictly, New Zealand is actually further away, but I think Lakatoro, Malekula deserves a nod as the most remote place a bottle has ever been enjoyed, and likely that record will stand for some time.

Just as the beer found its way to this remote location, now I must figure out a way back home, which is no straightforward task. But the situation has clarified one thing in my mind: for better or for worse, Cotignac is my home.

To you Cotignacéens, à très bientôt, j’espère. To those of you in Vanuatu, ale tata lo naoa, be meibi mimi kam bakagen wan dei. To those of you elsewhere, stay safe, and keep fighting the good fight.