Just a quick post today. Shortly after I arrived home following my big trek yesterday, a neighbour came by to say that the plane had brought my Hep-B vaccine earlier that day, and then he had brought it to my house, but I wasn’t in. I gladly took it from him and popped it in the fridge.
Brigitte had very kindly kept it in an ice-box, so the vaccine’s cold chain was uninterrupted since it had begun its Vanuatu journey about 10 days ago in Port Vila.
This morning, the government driver agreed to take me to the hospital in Norsup to have it injected (it came in a pre-filled syringe, so I had considered self-injecting, but chose not to risk it). The hospital seemed to be quite a good setup, fronting onto the ocean and kept nice and clean. The doctor was friendly, and said for a volunteer with his own syringe, there would be no charge.
The hospital main waiting room.
Apparently they are well-staffed with qualified personnel, but like all developing countries, they face shortages of medical supplies and technology, and so for serious cases, they arrange evacuation to Port-Vila. I think, and my doctor in France had advised, that I will be exceedingly unlikely to contract Hep-B in Vanuatu unless I get up to any funny business with the local girls, but VSA insisted on the vaccination, I think mainly for insurance purposes. I can now funny business away with my new-found immunity (only joking, Jen!).
The road just outside the hospital gate. I did enjoy hearing the waves breaking from within the hospital wards – while open air ventilation may not be the most hygienic imaginable from a medical standpoint, it definitely beats any London hospital I’ve been to in terms of patient mood lifting.
That’s really all I have by way of news today, but I figured I’d try to see if I could manage to post a video from my walk yesterday, and if successful, I might take a few more videos in future:
Video taken on my trek yesterday. Turns out it was quite a hassle uploading the video, so I don’t think I’ll be sharing many videos unless they are terrific ones.
There was a fair bit of rain last night, and in the morning, temperatures were a little cooler (although humidity was close to 100%!), so I figured I’d try to embark on a little adventure I’d been planning. Malekula they say is shaped like a sitting dog – I can sort of see it – and Lakatoro, where I stay, is pretty much on the east side of the dog’s collar.
I’d heard tell that there was a dirt road running East-West along the dog’s collar, crossing the island at its narrowest. I’d also heard tell that there was a settlement called Losinwei on the other side, and when reading about Losinwei, the scant info I found out about suggested it had some spectacular cascades to see.
So my plan was thus. Pack water, bananas, reef shoes, bush knife and set off on foot to Losinwei. Some map studying told me it was about 25km to Losinwei, which would be too much to do a return journey, but I was hoping I might be able to travel at least some of the way by hitching a ride on a truck, or if no truck to be found (there really isn’t much traffic on Sundays), I could always turn back if I was getting worried about the return journey.
So I put the plan into action, although managed to forget my bushknife in the kitchen, which was a bummer. I also had meant to pack my drybag, which turned out later to be a problem too.
Lakatoro, as I was setting off. Note the low cloud in the high ground, which was bringing some respite from the temperatures of the past week.Shortly after finding the dirt road to Losinwei. You can tell I hadn’t been walking long in this photo, as about 30 minutes after setting out, the sweat drenched my clothes.I like this photo so much, I think I’ll make it the blog cover photo.A short while into the walk. As mentioned, was drenched in sweat by this point.
I’d been walking about 2 hours, and hadn’t seen a single truck on the road, so was contemplating maybe turning back, but then as luck would have it, a truck came trundling along with a couple of guys in it. They weren’t going the whole way to Losinwei, and were turning off after about 8km to go to the village of Lambumbu (sic), but terrain was pretty tough at this point, and I hopped on. Was a good call, because it still left me a pleasant walk to Losinwei, but the bit on the truck was definitely through the most challenging terrain (steep hills and very muddy) of the day.
Selfie en route to Losinwei.A wild banana tree by the side of the road (bananas near the top). If I’m ever in a wilderness survival situation, I’d quite like it to be in Vanuatu. Even a muggins like me could find food and water.
And then, after a steep descent, I found myself in Losinwei. The settlement is pretty small, about 10 grass huts, which all seemed to be deserted, but the location is one of the most stunning places I’ve ever visited in the world. The sea cuts into the jungle hills in a narrow channel almost like a fjord, and then there’s a pristine beach wherever the land meets the water. I was pretty toasty by this point, it being around 1:30pm, so I staggered into one of the deserted huts and sat down in the shade. The hut was beautifully designed, with the thatched roof supported by timber beams, but crucially open on all four sides, allowing a cool ocean breeze to flow through as well as an uninterrupted view of the beachfront.
Just near the top of the descent down to Losinwei.View from the hut at LosinweiThe hut at Losinwei. Traditional, attractive, and functional. I wish my digs in Lakatoro were to a similar design.A cow on the beach. Note to the right of the photo, just through the leaves of the tree you can see a canoe, hand carved from a single tree trunk, with an outrigger attached. I saw some guys take it out to sea later, but I was swimming in the sea so didn’t have my camera with me. The way of life in Losinwei appears barely changed since early times.
After waiting in the hut to cool off, a man came swimming out of the sea, saw me and greeted me. I told him in my best Bislama that I’d like to see the waterfall, and he asked me to wait and he’d see if he could find someone to take me there. I suggested I could take a dip in the sea while I waited, and he thought that was a good plan. I’m still peeling from the sunburn I sustained snorkeling last weekend, and my clothes were soaked with sweat anyway, so I just went in fully clothed. Was luscious, warm like a bath, so clear I could see the coral without a bath, and with simply one of the most stunning views back to shore.
When I got out, the guy I had spoken to before introduced me to Chief Setla, and it turns out Chief Setla wanted to take me to the waterfall. In conversation during the walk (all in Bislama, Jif Selta no toktok English), the chief told me he was 87 years old, that all the land of Losinwei belonged to him, including the trek up the river to the falls. I was expecting this to be a short 15 minute trip, but it was more like 50 minutes through some of the densest jungle terrain I’ve ever encountered. The chief was hacking and slashing with his bushknife, which made me jolly upset I’d left mine at home. We crossed the river multiple times, and my reef shoes took a beating, as did my now-bleeding ankles. Needless to say, the chief wasn’t even breaking a sweat and was barefoot. He is one tough chap.
Jif Setla, 87 years old.Walking upriver.Me telling the chief to smile. Turns out that is his smile, I wouldn’t like to see him cross.Finally, arrived at the falls. Went swimming in the cool freshwater, much cooler than the sea.Returned to the hut.
When we were sat at the falls, catching my breath before the descent back to Losinwei, the chief got all serious (he already is the most serious person I know), and asked me for my opinion as to whether he should consider selling part of his land to the white men (he knew I am working for the province, trying to raise money from foreign investors), as apparently he had been approached and offered vast sums of money for a resort to be built at Losinwei. I thought about it briefly, and my verdict was that if he needed the money for something (typically school fees or medicine are the only two expenses faced by these off-grid types), then he could certainly consider selling, but in the meantime, he and his family were getting more use, joy and life out of the land than he would get out of a million dollars. He sat in silence for a while then harrumphed his agreement and we set off back to the village. I think this is a bit of an internal conflict I’m facing since my arrival here. Everyone, including the VSA, seems keen to help Vanuatu develop, but I’m not actually certain it’s in the Ni-Vanuatu’s best interests to develop. Vanuatu is quite unlike any other poor country I’ve ever been to. The thing is, the islands are sparsely populated, meaning everyone owns land. And the land is unbelievably fertile, meaning no-one ever goes hungry, nor does anyone have to work if they don’t feel like it. As a result, the vast majority of Ni-Van are pretty happy with their lot, hence the very high scores on country happiness indices. The downsides to this utopia are the urban centres which are more developed, but uglier and harsher as a result. I truly think closed border self-isolation may not be such a bad thing for a country like Vanuatu. But the holders of power (the UN, foreign governments, and domestic politicians) all disagree with me, and so I must continue my role here of helping the ni-Vans have development thrust upon them.
At the hut in Losinwei, Setla had two of these carved stone statues. I thought they looked Polynesian, like the Easter island ones, but he tells me they are carved in Ambrym, the next island along from Malekula.Leaving Losinwei, I walked back up the hillside, and took this photo. I wish Lakatoro was on the western side so I could see the sunsets. It was going to be a good one tonight, I could tell.
I was fearful of not being able to get a truck back and facing a five hour slog back home, but fortunately one came along shortly after I reached the top of the hill. It was already fit to bursting, with 6 passengers in the cab and 9 in the bed, but they enthusiastically waved me on to the back (standing room only). No photos, as I was hanging onto the two inches of the steel roll bar that they had vacated specially for me. The driver was on a mission to travel the potholed dirt road as quickly as possible, and it was a pretty hairy ride. They dropped me at the junction, as they were going off to Norsup, and I walked the last few kilometres back home. Arrived at home horrifically sweaty, with sore feet, and quite dehydrated, but man did it feel good to have embarked on an adventure and returned with all objectives complete.
Fish and chips, Lakatoro-style.
I cooked myself dinner, and am now about to drift off to sleep. Going to sleep well tonight, I feel.
So the last few days have been a bit bipolar. Either everything is going terrifically well, or everything is going disastrously. Tonight, all is terrific, and I’ll explain why in a moment. Firstly, let me go back to Tuesday; a French company had been in touch with the province, as they are hoping to commence a petroleum storage operation on the South side of the island. With tales and dreams of untold wealth, the province had decided to assist these investors in every way possible, and had managed to negotiate with three tribal landowners to sign a contract effectively granting the investors’ company eternal use of their land (according to the Vanuatu constitution, all land of Vanuatu belongs to the people of Vanuatu, so an outright sale isn’t possible). They were to fly in on a charter plane on Tuesday, sign a memorandum of understanding with the province officials and then fly out again, flying down to the South side of the island the following day to sign the contract with the tribal landowners and then fly out again. Their arrival and signing on Tuesday went swimmingly.
The French investors and the tribal landowners all wearing leis, and province officials and me not wearing leis. Despite the stifling heat, I was told by Kevin to wear jeans to look smart.French investor shaking the hand of a custom landowner (with beard). The French are paying the three landowners jointly approx 1 million USD for the use of their land, around 500 hectares. It’s impossible for me to evaluate whether that’s a good price or not with the limited information I’ve seen, and I wasn’t privy to negotiations. But for now, everyone is happy with the deal.The charter plane as they were leaving.
After the investors departed, the landowners and the province officials wanted to celebrate with a kava session, so we all went to a nakamal (kava bar), and started consuming the stuff in a big way. For those who aren’t aware, kava is an intoxicating drink made from stewing a locally-grown root of some sort. It is the colour of grey clay, and tastes a bit like liquorice boiled in mud and then watered down. Its effect is somewhere between marijuana and alcohol. It is an anti-stress analgesic, and makes your mouth go a bit numb after drinking. All in all, I don’t enjoy the feeling so much, but it does get you very intoxicated for not much money (as opposed to beer, which is relatively expensive). The norm is to have around 3 shells (traditionally half coconut shells, now Chinese melamine noodle bowls for reasons unknown) in an evening, but that night everyone was celebrating the first appearance of the French investors, so we had more than 5 and I started to lose count, as well as the ability to use my tongue. You will have seen my blog post from that night.
The following day, we were supposed to depart very early indeed to drive down to the South for the contract signing with the landowners. Apparently it’s a 3-4 hour drive, depending on the roads, so I was told to be ready at 4am, and a truck would come and pick me up. 3:45, I awoke, still slightly under a kava haze, and got dressed and ready to depart at 4. By 4:30, I was still waiting, and trying to figure out a way to top up the credit on my phone so that I could call Kevin. By 5:30, I figured they weren’t going to come, and gave up using the top-up system (it involves scratching codes off scraps of paper), and tried ringing Kevin using my Skype account instead. Got through, but was instantly cut off. By 6:30, I went back to bed, pretty hacked off.
Spent most of the day recovering from lack of sleep, and still pretty upset that they hadn’t picked me up. To make matters worse, it was Hunter’s Birthday, and I experienced a full-on bout of homesickness. Rather than celebrating my boy’s fifth birthday, I was sweltering in a cockroach infested dive where the people I’m supposed to be helping couldn’t even be bothered to pick me up in a truck. I was not happy at all. The following day, still no contact with Kevin, he was nowhere to be found, although I did find another councilman who explained that they realised about 2 hours into the drive that they had forgotten to pick me up. Not cool.
I was told once again that my Hep B jab would be put on a plane in the afternoon, so I hitched a ride to the airstrip, and was excited to see 2 planes arrive at the same time! Both flying the same route apparently, within 5 minutes of each other, which seems pretty nonsensical. After a few hours faff, it was determined that my vaccination was not on either plane.
One plane wing on the left of shot, the other plane on the right. Like buses, no planes all day and then two come at once!
So, forgotten about, uncontacted, and once again defeated by the logistics of getting my vaccination, Thursday was also a pretty poor day for me. Started wondering whether I should just throw the towel and fly to be with Jen and Hunter. A call with the VSA programme manager, Trevor, put me in a slightly better frame of mind, but I was still pretty miserable.
Then this morning, I’d be damned if I was going to traipse up the hill just to find Kevin not in his office again, so I started to plan a hike as something for me to do during the day. Just as I was about to depart, I got a call from the council President (Kevin was previously the only one who knew my number, so he must have been too embarrassed to call me directly, and asked the president to do it) asking my whereabouts. When I told him I was at home, he said not to move, he was coming with Kevin to see me. Kevin showed up at my front door deeply apologetic, and even gave me half an orange to say sorry (sharing food is a ni-Van expression of friendship). He said we should sit down that afternoon and make a schedule so mishaps like forgetting me don’t reoccur. Apology accepted, I went to the office in the afternoon, and we actually achieved a decent bit of work together on the investment policy. I’m not certain the momentum will last, but while he was apologetic today, he was at his most willing to please, which helped cooperation greatly. It was a good day, and as I headed back to my house in the afternoon, I figured I needed to make some more friends here, so ventured to a local nakamal. They were nice people, but it was pretty hard work trying to strike up a friendship with my shaky Bislama. Just as I was attempting to ask one of the locals how many children they had (a decent cross-culture conversation point), the council President drove past and asked me if I’d like to join him for a shell at his preferred nakamal. I went along, and had a good conversation with the nakamal owner who is standing for election next month. He was frankly pretty lame on policy, repeating over and over how honest he was and not much else, but honesty being the big issue in Vanuatu politics right now (the exiting prime minister and 5 cronies have just received a jail sentence for criminal behaviour while in office, although they are intending to appeal and stand for election again anyway), maybe this guy was on to something.
In conversation with the council President earlier in the week, I had mentioned I hadn’t yet had a chance to eat a coconut crab (local delicacy, similar to lobster). Apparently today, he had tracked down a huge one and given he wasn’t returning to his home on the other side of the island till tomorrow, he was looking for someone with whom to share it. He wanted to know if he could come round to my place, and we could cook it on my hob. I was very willing, and it was a pretty amazing experience to sit down with the provincial council President, and get stuck into kitchen duty together.
President displaying the crab he’d bought. I reckon the crab weighed about 2.5 kg.Action shot of him incapacitating the crab on my balcony. Given the crabs are land crabs, they don’t die when caught, and are sold tied, but very much alive. You have to be careful when untying that a) they don’t scuttle away and b) they don’t pinch you with their enormous claws, capable of crushing coconuts.Cooked in coconut milk, seasoned with local turmeric, ginger, spring onion and chilli.
All in all, it was a great evening, and it was a unique experience. Can’t even do the washing up tonight, as the water is off until the morning. Filled with delicious crab and quite content. Goodnight all.
No island news in this post, I just want to celebrate my boy’s birthday by sharing some of the photos I have of him. I love him so much, I wish I were with him today to gather him in my arms and tell him how special he is. Days like these are the toughest for homesickness, but the thought of him keeps me going strong.
Sausage, everyday we are thankful for having you in our lives. You are a truly special boy and my love for you defines me. Keep being you, and especially… have a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Today was a day full of promise, but it started going wrong pretty much as I woke up and headed to the shower, only to find the largest cockroach I have ever seen crawling along the wall at head height. So large, I thought it was a mouse at first. A giant among cockroaches. He wasn’t hanging around either, so no photo, but I was able to grab the bug spray and get him with a direct sustained hit. Didn’t do a thing, apart from make him seem a bit more agitated, and dash between my legs in an attempt to escape. So I found the best use for the bug spray was to try to squash him with the base of the can, which at first just seemed to tick him off a little, and he kept right on going the moment I lifted the can. After a few squashes, however, he lost whatever demon was in him, and finally yielded.
Now I figured that a possible source of this cockroach (although there are many possibilities) could well be the uncovered shower drain, a 10cm brown hole in the floor which does wonders for water conservation on Malekula, as it makes a shower a thoroughly unpleasant experience which the sooner ended, the better. I would definitely buy a drain cover for this repulsive hole given the chance, only this being Malekula, there aren’t any.
Cockroach eliminated, I headed up the hill to my office. We were supposed to have had an important meeting with some potential investors today, but apparently one of their team couldn’t make it, so they postponed till tomorrow. Kevin still had to prepare paperwork for them to sign tomorrow, though, and was busy doing that, and couldn’t really spend time looking at the investment policy with me. Fair enough, I figured I’d use the morning to investigate the library that I’d heard from other volunteers existed on the island, and rumour is that it is surprisingly plentiful for a library on a remote island in Vanuatu, even though nobody seems to know of its existence. I eventually found the building that houses it, only to find it locked. Asking at province HQ, they said the cleaning ladies might have a key, but nobody had seen the cleaning ladies today, and there was no way of contacting them.
So giving up on that idea, I headed to market. There is often a portion problem with the market produce, in that you cannot buy say one single avocado, you must buy them by the dozen. Or not a handful of limes, you need to buy 30. If you ask the market sellers if you can just have a few, they stare at you with blank incomprehension. Well today, the only kumala (the Bislama name for sweet potato) was being sold wrapped in a woven coconut basket weighing about 5kg. I like sweet potato, but I’m not sure I like it that much. I bought it anyway, and have hung it from the rafters on the verandah in the hope that the rats won’t be able to get to it there.
A lot of sweet potato!Hanging from the rafters. Regardless of the enormous portion sizes, the coconut leaf baskets are undeniably cool.
Then in the afternoon, I had mentioned to Kevin that I needed to go and meet the airplane from Santo, as it was hopefully going to be bringing my final dose of Hep-B vaccination, and from the airport I could cross the road to the clinic and have it injected into me. This plan was going to work out nicely, as the Secretary General (SG) needed to get the same plane off the island, so I was able to travel in the official province truck with the government driver. Arrived at the airfield, and as I was waiting for the plane to arrive, I received a message from Brigitte saying she wasn’t going to be able to get my jab onto the plane after all, as it was locked in the VSA office, and she didn’t have a key at the moment. So I wished the SG a safe onward voyage, and headed back to the province office with the driver. When we got there, though, Kevin had finished his paperwork for tomorrow, and wanted to get the SG’s signature on it before he left. So we raced back to the airport only to find the plane had already left.
All was not lost, however. On the way back, I asked the driver to leave me at one of the island shops, as I had had enough of sitting in the sweltering truck and needed to pick up some eggs for dinner. As I was buying my eggs, I had a peek at some of the goods for sale, and my gaze alighted on something in the hardware section. There, tucked under some old plumbing bits and bobs, for the bargain price of 1,860 vatu, was a cellophane wrapped, stainless steel, 10cm-diameter SHOWER DRAIN COVER! It was the only one in the shop, and I pounced on it like Gollum on his ring. I carefully carried it home, feeling much more protective of it than of the eggs I had bought. Once home, I unwrapped it with awe and hope, not daring to get too excited in case it didn’t fit and my hopes were dashed. And indeed, when I tried to fit it at first, it seemed just too wide by a couple of millimetres. I went and had my supper, staring at it dejectedly, wondering if I could knock the extra millimetres in with a hammer or something, and noticed that it was actually comprised of two pieces, an inner ring and an outer ring. Excitedly, I unscrewed the outer ring, and was left with a drain cover just a bit smaller than the original – I went to the shower and tried it, and it fitted absolutely perfectly!
It is a marked improvement. The gratings, while not apparently that narrow, will nonetheless provide an effective barrier for mouse-sized cockroaches.
Very chuffed with that, I had a shower and retired for the evening on a high.
Went to church this morning, due to a desire for human contact rather than any religious fervour. It was an unusual service today, led entirely by women from the congregation. It is quite funny that in any Christian church, in any language, the reading of church notices are the dullest five minutes you will have to listen to all week. I’m glad I went, as my counterpart Kevin was there, and although we were supposed to have a meeting in Lamap (a village which is a three hour drive away) on Monday morning, for which I was getting ready to be picked up at silly o’clock in the morning, he told me the meeting has been cancelled, and so he would buy me a fish instead – I didn’t understand the segue either, but hey, free fish!
Then after a long siesta in the stifling heat of the afternoon, once things started to cool down a bit, I decided to go for a walk to explore a bit further down the road and to stretch my legs.
A petrol station I came across. Diesel is about 190 vatu/litre, so about the same as back in Europe.This kindergarten definitely has the best-kept grounds in town. The grass was trimmed, the walls painted, everything looks very smart. H would’ve loved the playhouse, visible to the left.I’m trying to find access to the sea closer to the house, at Brendan’s recommendation. Here was a small stretch of seafront, but it was still quite a way to get to, and I had to trespass over someone’s garden to get there.Built by the Japanese in 1988, apparently.The wharf commercial centre as it stands today, abandoned. Commercial activity on Malekula just doesn’t seem to work very well. I don’t think I’m going to change that by writing an investment policy.The sunset I’d walked to see!
Wishing you all a great week ahead.
Oh, and for those of you concerned, apparently H is finally on the mend, having polished off five pancakes at breakfast.
Just a brief blog post today, as it’s the weekend and so with everything closed, and with my sunburn from yesterday still feeling a bit raw, I spent most of the day reading.
However, I am very proud of my evening meal. I made a curry using spring onion, red peppers, yesterday’s corn (stripped from the cob), some home-made coconut cream and a mashed banana to sweeten, curried with local turmeric, ginger and pepper. Accompanied by roasted spiced kumala cubes and an avocado, ripe at last and dressed with lime juice. 100% vegan, 100% gluten-free and 100% made in Malekula! To celebrate, I had a Tusker beer alongside (made in Port Vila, albeit not with local ingredients). Really chuffed with how it turned out!
My finest culinary creation so far!
I write this as one of the nearby churches (possibly the Adventists, it being Saturday night) blasts out worship music through the jungle. Speaking of which, please spare a prayer for my son, he is really not very well at all, and needs all the support he can get. Photo of him looking miserable in a clinic here:
We thought he was better, but after a day of seeming recovered, he has relapsed with a high fever.
Today marks one week since I’ve been on Malekula. It feels a lot longer. As if to make sure that my first week wasn’t too intense, today was a public holiday. Father Lini Day, in remembrance of one of the champions of independence. I was hoping for parades and festivities of some sort, but on Malekula it just meant everything closed.
Yesterday the council held its first tri-annual cabinet meeting, and as my counterpart Kevin was giving a presentation about some potential investors visiting the island next week to the council, and my assignment goal of writing the province’s investment policy was an agenda item, we were both invited to observe the cabinet meeting.
The cabinet meeting in full swing. Kevin is at the back, standing for his presentation.
It was conducted in Bislama, the only common language of all the councilmen (a couple are francophones, most are anglophones). Shortly before lunch, we left the room to discover my office had been turned into a refreshment zone. I was pleased to see the refreshments were all local produce, not an Oreo in sight!
If you note the woven basket the coconuts are in, that is quite common here. They have a total ban on single use plastic bags, so the mamas at the market often sell things in woven baskets instead.
Unfortunately after lunch, it appeared that the refreshment ladies hadn’t cleaned much of the refreshment mess and then gone home, so my office was covered in fruit peels and fruit juice stains which had brought the ants back again (I had managed to get rid of them during the week with a liberal application of bug spray). Nonetheless I got a bit of work done and then called it a day. Walking back home, about a 10 minute walk from the office, I decided to go for a walk to see some new surroundings and stretch my legs, as I hadn’t had any exercise all week. I walked a couple of km only to Litslits wharf, hoping there might be a bit more to Lakatoro then I’d seen so far, but nope, that’s pretty much it, the rest is dense jungle.
Jungle, as seen on my walk.A cow enjoying the grass at the roadside.
This morning, after a few household chores – had to do my laundry in the sink – still feeling the urge for both exercise and exploration, I decided to try to get to the beach – it is back near the airport, about 7km away. I figured I’d wave down a passing truck, which is the way public transport works here, but it being a public holiday, there weren’t any trucks out and about on Malekula’s one road. So I ended up walking in the hot hot sun, and was very glad to finally get to the beach when I did. It was pretty spectacular, and I had my reef shoes (good tip, Brendan), and snorkel, so I went out snorkeling along the reef. Wonderful snorkeling, comparable to the Red Sea reef where I learned to scuba dive. My phone isn’t waterproof, so no underwater photos, I’m afraid.
The approach to the beach!The beach. Some parts were sandy, but most were crushed coral like this.After my snorkeling. Happy and refreshed.
On the way back, I was fortunate enough to not have to wait too long before a truck came, which I flagged down. Being the old man I was, I had to lower the rear tailgate to get in – the locals just vault over the side!
Once home, I decided to try to prepare some corn I bought at the market a few days back. Vanuatu corn is not like sweetcorn – it looks the same, but even if boiled for hours it remains hard and not especially pleasant. I had looked online and some suggested soaking it for a few hours with a spoonful of sugar might help. I didn’t have any sugar (only imported sugar can be bought here, despite cane apparently growing plentifully), so decided to crush a banana into the water instead. It didn’t soften the corn, but I don’t think sugar would’ve done either. Whilst threshing the corn, though, and removing it from the stems, I thought I might be able to use the stems and the husks to fashion coathangers. There is a long hanger rail along one wall of my bedroom, but I’ve checked every shop in the village, and none sell coathangers, so I am unable to hang my shirts.
A coathanger, fashioned from a corn stem and tied to the rail with corn husk.Success!
Delicious looking corn, along with some vegetable patties made from leftovers. If anyone has any idea of how to get the corn even remotely digestible, shout now!
I made three of them, and then ran out of corn stems. Have about 8 shirts to hang altogether, so might need to buy some more corn, although I wish it wasn’t so nasty to eat. The worst is that it looks like the most delicious sweetcorn – the disappointment reminds me of when they served us liver at boarding school, which looked like a delicious well-cooked steak but tasted instead like institutionally cooked liver.
Although I used sunscreen when snorkeling, I wasn’t able to reach down to my lower back, and forgot to cover the backs of my legs, so have a mild bit of sunburn. But I was able to lift my spirits with a long phone call with Mother, so that was a good end to the day, even if it does hurt a bit to lie down.
Today, as I arrived at work, I was told that a council meeting was about to take place in the large room across the road, and I asked if I could join.
It turns out that it was a meeting which had been called by the tribal chiefs of a particular tribe who were disputing the precise boundary of their land with the state land of the village, land currently leased out to some villagers of another tribe. The council meeting was preceded and closed with a prayer session, led by my counterpart Kevin. I think Kevin gets invited to these council meetings even though he is an investment officer (so nothing to do with land disputes), by virtue of his religious seniority. The council President explained to the tribesmen that land boundary decisions are matters for the national courts, not the council, but that pending any judgement received from the courts, the council would inform both sides of the boundary that the land was in dispute and therefore it couldn’t be used for daily activity. The tribesmen were happy, and after the closing prayer, filed out. Then the provincial government officials, myself included, hopped into the back of a truck and sped down the hill to inform the neighbouring tribe of the council’s decision. These second tribesmen said it was unacceptable as the first tribe had been trying to claim the land for three years now, and pressured one of the councilmen to put a time limit on hearing back from the courts. The councilman crumbled, and said he would give the first tribe one month to produce a valid legal judgement that the land belongs to them, otherwise after a month the second tribe could continue to use it. This was a mistake, if you ask me, as to try to get a judgment out of a Vanuatu court in under a month is about as likely as finding a cheesemonger at the local market (no dairy produced in Vanuatu). I asked Kevin later whether either tribe would turn violent if the land dispute didn’t go their way, and he laughed and said they would likely both get violent, yes.
During the meeting in the village with the second tribe, I had one of those moments whereby I was able to observe myself and the scene where we were all (about 20 people in total, me being the only white guy) sat under the shade of a Nangai tree, getting eaten by mozzies, discussing a tribal boundary dispute in Bislama, and I just thought “Wow. This is one of those moments that are completely unique. Nobody else will share this experience with me, ever. All the events that have occurred in my life have led me to this moment”. It was an amazing privilege to be there.
Anyway, it wouldn’t have been appropriate to take photos, so I thought I’d just illustrate this blog post instead with various signs I’ve found on Malekula.
The Bislama translates word-for-word as “Don’t chuck dirty in place here”, or more concisely “No littering”. The bit underneath means “You could get a fine of 50,000 vatu”.Your guess is as good as mine!The Malekula shipping wharf is at Litslits, apparently. I find the name funny, slightly rude sounding.The P.P.P. party office roof is one bird mounting another. Not sure why, but it’s certainly unique!Oh, and before I sign off, here is a coconut shell I filled with blended mango, coconut water and coconut flesh, orange juice and lime juice and popped in the freezer to make a sorbet. The sorbet was the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in 2020.
