Escape Logistics

February 18th, 2020 – Lakatoro

…make peanut butter!

Continuing my efforts to only eat produce made in Vanuatu, I shelled some raw peanuts, roasted them in the oven, and crushed them with my blender.

I took most of the advice from the internet of how to do it, but I think there maybe a problem with the variety of peanut used. The peanuts don’t even taste like peanuts, they’re more like dried peas. Putting them in the oven and then blending just resulted in roasted and mashed dried peas. They didn’t seem to have a very high oil content, so while the internet said you don’t have to add oil, the peanuts will contain enough, that definitely was not the case with these ones, and to get them to blend properly I had to add about three quarters of a cup of coconut oil. The final nut butter doesn’t taste unpleasant, but tastes more like a pea and coconut paste than peanut butter.

In other culinary feats, tonight I made myself a tomato and spring onion curry, served on a bed of mashed kumala (the Vanuatu name for kumera).

Today started out quite badly, with my counterpart Kevin dumping some pretty dissatisfying work (work that isn’t part of my assignment, and that he could’ve done himself, but clearly didn’t want to) on my desk, and then disappearing for much of the day.

But the free time (I did a rush job of the work he left me, on the basis that if you do a job badly enough, you don’t get asked to do it again) allowed me to meet with the council president – a francophone ni-Vanuatu guy. He has a name, but everyone just calls him Pres. He is very charismatic, apparently a shrewd businessman, and compared to everyone else I’ve met here seems to have a much more Western mentality. He was educated in Nouméa, and his French education visibly outstrips that of his fellow countrymen.

Speaking of charismatic elected officials, here in Vanuatu we are in prime campaign mode for the forthcoming national elections on March 17th. Coincidentally, I think this is when the mayoral elections for Cotignac are happening. The same type of campaigning for both locations (Cotignac and Vanuatu) is creating an election buzz on my Facebook page, and amusingly, the same cynical remarks from the locals (e.g. the only reason the water system is working this month is because elections are next month, etc…). Down by the market today, Ralph Regenvanu, a longstanding ni-Vanuatu MP was campaigning with a loudspeaker. Those of you back in Cotignac who watched my pre-departure presentation may remember him from the video clip I played. I think he sounds very convincing, but word on the street is that he is all talk, and he hasn’t been able to resolve the problems he initially set out to, despite two terms in office already.

The day ended better than it had begun, with Kevin returning, apologising profusely for his sudden departure, and explaining there had been a death in his wife’s family (his nephew-in-law). Only 19 years old, apparently. Tragic, and the family still very unclear as to the precise circumstances surrounding the death. Kevin was very keen for me to go out today and have a traditional kava welcoming ceremony. We hadn’t had it last week, as Kevin doesn’t actually drink the stuff, and the Pres was away. We drove out to a nakamal (kava bar), words of welcome were pronounced, and I had a couple of shells of kava. It was a bit of a sacred moment, and I didn’t want to spoil it by taking photos, but on the way back I asked Pres to stop the truck so that I could take a photo of the sunset through the coconut plantation.

I go to bed now remembering how even days that start off poorly can come good.

Feb 16th, 2020 – Lakatoro

Even though I’ve spent much of the weekend sleeping, it has nonetheless been quite eventful. The heat, the bugs and the unfamiliar make even simple tasks become endeavours.

Sticking with my “made in Vanuatu” only challenge, on Saturday morning I cracked open a coconut I had put in the freezer the night before (a tip I’d read on the internet – only average results, don’t think I’ll bother next time), and put its milk and flesh into the blender along with a few ripe bananas and a some squeezed limes to make a pretty delicious breakfast smoothie.

As I was throwing the coconut shell and fruit peels out in the garden compost pile, I espied a coconut which must have fallen from the tree during the night. I picked it up, and figured I would have a go at de-husking it using my machete. It turns out de-husking a coconut isn’t an especially simple task, so I was making quite a lot of noise hacking away at it and the neighbour, Kathleen, came over to see what I was doing. She laughed at my pitiful white man attempts, and instructed her 12 year-old daughter, Jennifer, to show me how it was done. I actually think I’d done most of the hard work, Jennifer just stole my glory by tidying it up a little. Anyway, I now have a coconut foraged from my own garden in the fridge, which is a win! Kathleen stayed for a couple of hours chatting (quick visits aren’t very Vanuatu), and invited me to go with her to church on Sunday.

Then Andrea and Dave, currently the only other white people in Lakatoro, dropped by to see how I was settling in. I fed them some iced lime juice, and they explained they are leaving on Tuesday for a couple of weeks to attend a wedding back in NZ, which leaves me as the only white man in Lakatoro. I mentioned how I’d been bitten by a giant centipede, and they were surprised, as they hadn’t seen one in the six months they’d been here. After they said farewell, I head back to the bedroom, and guess what I see crawling all over the mozzie net?

Having disposed of Monsieur Milpat (one of the few Bislama words taken from French rather than English), I cooked myself dinner of eggs, chips and beans, Lakatoro-style.

The following morning, after getting dressed for church, I found something had left a dead gecko on the front doorstep, and it was being consumed by ants. I don’t mind a dead gecko, but I can’t help be a little afraid that something pretty big must’ve done this guy in.

Then I went off to church, a block or so down the road. A Presbyterian church, which is apparently the majority religion here. The service started well, almost entirely in Bislama except for the readings, but I was more or less keeping up, and the singing was wonderful. Then at one point during his service, the elder (actually a young chap), put his forehead down on the pulpit. I figured he was praying, and nobody else seemed to react. After a minute or so, he looked up and continued his sermon, but only saying maybe a sentence each minute – again, I figured this was part of the prayer. He put his head on the pulpit a second time, and stayed down a bit longer before carrying on, even slower than before. The third time, there was a bit of a kerfuffle from the congregation, than somebody rushed to him with a bottle of water. One of the other elders at that point assisted him to a chair on the side, and he put his head down on a table while the other elder finished the service. At the end of the service, I was invited/told to stand next to the elder and to shake everyone’s hand as they departed. Everyone filed out, and I asked the elder if the young guy was ok. He looked and me and told me not to worry, he was “just stressed”. Nobody else seemed too concerned, so I suspect it has happened before. I hope he overcomes his stresses.

After all the stress of church, I came home and rested, before reheating some laplap (national dish) I’d bought at the market. Apparently it’s a mission to make laplap, involving peeling, pounding, grating mashing, wrapping in leaves and cooking in the fire. I can say with some certainty it’s not remotely worth the effort. Tastes a bit like a very dense polenta cake wrapped in cabbage leaves.

And then this evening, I’ve tried roasting the taro I had instead of boiling or frying it. Will let you know if it works out any better, but don’t hold your breath.

Feb 14th, 2020 (Valentine’s Day) – Lakatoro

So today I had my first day at work. It wasn’t too exciting, I just spent the day reading through dozens of policy documents, all of which will feed into the investment policy for Malampa province, which is one of my assignment goals.

In the above photo, that’s pretty much my entire office, which is across the entryway from Kevin’s (my counterpart). I’ve never had my own private office before, and quite like it, apart from the ants.

The office location is on top of a hill, and all the government buildings are grouped together in a sort of government compound. It’s no surprise that they are in the nicest part of town, and the grounds are well kept with some beautiful trees dotted around.

Then after work, I picked up a few more things from the market, which is at its busiest on Fridays, as most of the island closes for the weekend. I came home and hung my mozzie net. There was one here, but it didn’t reach to the ground, so I kept having to try to tuck it under the mattress, which wasn’t successful. My new one is great, though. And then I rose to my self-imposed ‘made in Vanuatu’ challenge, and cooked myself dinner using only local ingredients.

It was pretty successful, although those yams are pretty flavourless, and taste like great big blobs of dried starch – I think it would have been better if I’d diced them into much smaller cubes so they could pick up more of the lime flavour. Ah well, next time I’ll know. Particularly impressed with how spicy the fresh chilli was – I only used a single one out of my bag of about 50, and it was plenty hot enough. Don’t know how I’ll get through the whole bag before they rot! The green beans were the biggest winner of the day, tasting fresh and sweet.

Not too sure what I’ll be doing for the weekend, although missing my darling wife so much this Valentine’s Day, so tonight I’m going to extend my data allowance and see if I can stream a romantic movie, wishing she were here with me.

Feb 13th, 2020 – Lakatoro

Whilst here, I keep on venting my frustration to others that although the markets are awash with fresh produce, going into any store one is presented solely with processed goods (coconut oil, peanut butter, pineapple juice) which have been imported. It’s crazy to see the locals paying 600 vatu for a carton of Del Monte pineapple juice, when the mamas across the road are selling fresh pineapples for 50 vatu each. They grow coffee both on the islands of Tanna and Aore, a mere 10 mins flight away, a few hours by boat, and yet the only coffee you can buy on Malekula is Nescafé or some Indonesian brand called Indocafé.

So today, after witnessing this for the umpteenth time, I thought enough is enough, and I took a decision: whilst on Malekula, I’m going to try to survive purely on produce made/grown in Vanuatu. To that end, I went shopping at the market, and bought:

And I was pleased to track down a factory where they make coconut oil, along with nangai and tamanu oils (I hadn’t heard of these last two, and they were more expensive – I might try them some other time). All up, my shopping including the coconut oil cost me around 1500 vatu, or $15 USD. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to stick with this regime all the time, as honestly the economy is so ridiculously import-heavy here, but I can be pretty stubborn, and really want to make a go of it. It doesn’t seem right to be offering investment advice on how the island can produce and export more while simultaneously chowing down on Maggi Pot Noodles and Oreo cookies. It also should be beneficial for my health, and significantly cheaper. I’ll keep you informed of my success (or not) as the assignment progresses.

Separately, while I am trying to eat only made in Vanuatu goods, it turns out Vanuatu is trying it’s best to eat me. Those of you who follow me on Facebook will have seen my spider photo, so I shan’t reproduce it here. I also was bitten on the heel tonight by what I’m told by the cheerful neighbour was probably a Vanuatu Giant Centipede:

And then my left buttock is peppered with a few dozen itchy bites from some insect – I suspect bedbugs from one of the places I started in Santo. Fortunately for you, I’ll spare you the photo of them!

Feb 12th, 2020 – Lakatoro

So I’ve finally made it to the village of Lakatoro, on the island of Malekula, where my assignment is to be based!

It was a very sunny day, temps well into the 30s, but with all the water about after the last few days, I can honestly say I’ve had drier steam baths, and so the apparent temperature was well into the 40s.

I had a relaxed breakfast on the balcony of the digs I had been in for the last few days, and then Brigitte came to pick me up to take me to Santo airport.

This time, there was no stopping us! We checked in, weighing ourselves again, and after a few hot hours wait, we got to board the plane! A twin-otter, it was the smallest plane I’ve ever flown on. The flight was only fifteen minutes long, making it the shortest flight I’ve ever been on, too. So many firsts in one day!

Kevin is my counterpart. He works for the Provincial Government of Malampa, and it is therefore alongside and with him that I’m going to be working. He seems a solid chap so far, and I’m really looking forward to getting to know him better.

Kevin apologised, but he had to do some work, so he took us to my lodgings, and then Brigitte gave us a walking tour of the village of Lakatoro. I’ve taken quite a few photos, but the village is quite spread out through the jungle, so it’s not easy to capture in a single photo.

The road from the airport and through the village is tarred – it was sealed last year, apparently, financed and built by the Chinese.

After exploring the town, we went for a meal with the only other two VSA volunteers on Malekula, Dave and Andrea, wine growers from Marlborough who as I understand it are trying to help a farming project here on the island. I look forward to getting to know them, although after the coming weekend they are returning to NZ for a couple of weeks to attend a wedding, so I’ll be the only VSA on the island, which is both a touch scary and exhilarating.

Jen and H are leaving for a holiday with Nana and Grandpa in Cuba today. I’m missing them sorely. I guess I’ll be busy over the next couple of days settling in, so at least that will take my mind off them. Further blog postings to follow as I discover new things here!

Feb 9th, 2020 (7th Wedding Anniversary) – Luganville

Those of you who have been following closely may recall that today I was supposed to go to Malekula. Well there was a good bit of tropical rain yesterday, and this morning in particular the sheer volume of water falling from the sky had me pretty awestruck. There’s been a tropical cyclone, cyclone Uesi, brewing in the neighborhood – it’s forecast to miss most of Vanuatu and strike New Caledonia in the coming days. But while that means Vanuatu is by and large out of the danger zone when it comes to destructive winds, we are getting a dumping of precipitation from the periphery of the nascent cyclone like you wouldn’t believe.

So faced with this weather, I sent a message to Brigitte asking whether we were still due to fly out or not. She initially said not, as the plane had flown in from Vila this morning, had tried to land on Santo three times, then given up and gone back to Vila to refuel. But then she showed up at the front door, and said that the plane had refueled and successfully landed at Santo, so we were going to head out to the airport and load up the plane, waiting for a break in the rain to fly. The flight to Malekula is only 15 minutes, so we didn’t need much.

On arrival at the airport, we saw the plane was indeed on the runway.

It was going to be the first time I’d ever traveled in a light aircraft. At check-in, after weighing the checked baggage, the passengers then have to stand on the scales with their carry-on so the pilot can calculate the correct load!

Then we sat down at the airport café to wait for a break in the rain.

Alas, after a couple hours wait, we were told it wasn’t going to happen today, and that we’re going to have to try again tomorrow. On the plus side, I didn’t really fancy spending a night in the place I had been all week, as it isn’t really fit for spending more than a couple of nights, so I mentioned it to the programme managers, and they agreed to find me somewhere more pleasant to stay. I’m now at a place which is much less cell-like, and feeling much more human as a result.

And I’m told NZ won the cricket, so it’s all looking positive, despite the rain.

Feb 8th, 2020 – Luganville

So having received a couple of comments from the cheap seats about how cushy my travels are sounding (no finger-pointing, hey Aunt Lynn, Mother Dearest, and others…), I figured I’d use this post to describe some of the darker sides of Vanuatu which I’ve witnessed so far. Don’t get me wrong, it is a privilege to be here, and my overall impression so far is that this is a uniquely beautiful country, but my readers need to understand that it isn’t all sunset cocktails at plush resorts.

First off, climate. Thomas, a VSA volunteer at the Santo tourist office, said he found a brochure which describes the climate here as “oppressive”, which was hardly selling it. Maybe not promotional, but the word is very apt. The combination of high temperatures and extreme humidity means every waking moment is a shower of sweat, even in the middle of the night. aircon doesn’t really exist except in a couple of exclusive locations. I’ve been trying to capture the extreme rainfall in a photo, but it is tricky to do so with a phone camera.

Put it this way, though, everything I own is damp. Toilet paper lasts about a day before disintegrating. The Bislama photocopies my teacher Gaelle gave me this week are limp and ripped. I put some biscuits on a saucer to serve to Gael the other day, and within half an hour of opening the packet, you couldn’t pick the biscuits up, as they had soaked up so much moisture they would collapse under their own soggy weight.

The constant humidity results in another problem – the local fauna. Mosquitoes thrive in this environment, and typically for about four hours in the morning and four hours in the evening (so for half the waking day), the mozzies feast on my sweet pakeha flesh. I slather on the DEET, but the sweat soon washes it away. Despite all the jabs prior to arrival, and the daily dose of malaria prophylaxis there are a number of mozzy-borne diseases which could well get me before the end of the assignment (malaria, dengue, zika, to name but a few examples). Despite recent efforts to improve waste management, rats and vermin are ubiquitous. If you hear rustling in a tree, it’s likely rats gnawing the branches to get the fruit to fall to the ground. Ants are simply everywhere. If you leave any food or even other consumables (they were all over my toothpaste) on a countertop overnight, it will be swarming with ants by morning. When I lie in bed writing this blog, they climb into the bedsheets and up my body approximately every half hour.

On the social side, I’d barely been here 24 hours before I was approached by a prostitute offering me her services. And the other day I witnessed a teenage elder sister beating her approximately 1-year old baby brother with a stick because he had toddled off in the wrong direction. VSA policy is to not intervene when faced with such situations, but I nonetheless had an internal struggle with my conscience. The attitude to domestic animal care is similarly violent.

The above are just some of the downsides I’ve experienced so far. There are others which I’m told I’ll no doubt experience before I leave, especially as tomorrow, I’m due to fly to Malekula which is more remote and inaccessible, but I’ll wait until I see them with my own eyes before sharing.

As mentioned, I’m so privileged to be here, and I’m loving my time here. But it’s important to realise that it isn’t all fun and games, and there are some things they don’t mention at the tourist office. To end on a lighter note, here’s a selfie of me still enjoying myself, despite the downsides:

February 7th, 2020 – Luganville

So I missed sending an update to the blog yesterday, as it was Waitangi Day (NZ day of colonial significance), and Trevor and Michelle had invited all the volunteers round to their house to celebrate.

Trevor had cooked up a really good dinner, but before we plated up, some good formalities took place to mark the occasion. Firstly, Wayne, as most senior person present, was selected to read out the NZ high commissioner’s speech which the high commissioner was delivering simultaneously at the high commission in Port Vila. It was a well-written speech, although to my mind it focused a little too much on the difficulties and challenges that international diplomacy hopes to overcome. This meant there was quite a lot of doom and gloom before getting to the lighter stuff.

Then followed a couple of waiata (Maori songs) led by Thomas. After that, we tucked into the delicious food (coconut curry with paratha), followed by some tropical fruit for pudding.

I had bought a bottle of that Vanuatu whiskey (see previous blog post) as a gift to say thank you to Trevor and Michelle for having us, and I cheekily asked for a taste, as I was curious to know if it was any good. It was drinkable, but not in large quantities, and you’d want to mix it with something first. I felt it tasted weaker than the (handwritten) 36% sticker on the label would suggest. I suspect it is simply distilled sugar cane, cut with water and then with food colouring and caramel flavouring added rather than actual whiskey, but hey, I’m glad I got to try it.

It was while at the Waitangi meal that Brigitte told me I wouldn’t be flying out to Malekula on Friday as planned, but that the schedule had been pushed back a couple of days, and now the plan is to leave on Sunday. A tad disappointing, as I’m eager to get started in my role, but it allowed me to get another load of laundry done before leaving for parts remote.

During supper, the rain started to come down pretty hard (it had been raining on and off the last couple of days), and then throughout the night and most of the next day, it rained and rained with a ferocity unfamiliar to those of us who don’t live in the tropics.

Fortunately, there was a brief break in the rain around sunset, which meant all the volunteers once again gathered, this time at the Deco Stop resort, which I’m told is the usual Friday night hangout. I took my togs and went for a swim, which was most refreshing.

Now it’s started raining again. Things are getting pretty wet and muddy. The other volunteers are pretty blasé about it, recounting stories of heavier rain when in other tropical locations, but I think this is a pretty extraordinary amount of water coming down no matter where you’re from. The road through town is deteriorating at such a rate that there won’t be much road left if the rain carries on like this for another week or so. So long as the plane can take me to Malekula on Sunday…

Feb 5th, 2020 – Luganville

Gaelle came to my bungalow at eight o’clock and continued her teachings. I think I’m an alright student, but it’s a pretty intense (Bislama: “ful on”) course that I’m on this week, with four hours a day of tuition. My concentration starts to wane after the first couple of hours, but Gaelle is patient and we slogged through it.

During our lunch break, we went into town and chatted away in Bislama as she showed me round the market. At some point, she asked me whether I liked “germinated coconuts” (Bislama: “navara”, as pretty much the only Bislama words which don’t have English roots are the words for local foods and plants). My blank stares prompted her to buy a bunch (half a dozen for 100 vatu, about a dollar US). Borrowing a bush knife from a market lady, she cracked one open and showed me the insides. I was expecting coconut water to spray everywhere, but it turns out the coconut water gets used up by the germinating plant, and the nut is filled with a soft, sweet flesh, which I’d describe as a less sweet cross between a marshmallow and an apple. More information on this weird, but tasty, fruit can be found on Wikipedia: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sprouted_coconut

After that, the rest of the day has been uneventful (yet another unsuccessful trip to the bank followed – they want more paperwork and won’t accept any digital copies), so I think I’ll populate the rest of the blog post with pictures of the local drinks I’ve been consuming in order to start refreshed and rehydrated:

Cheers all!

Feb 4th, 2020 – Luganville

Today, in the early hours of the morning, the rain started to come down. This was a relief, as it lowered temperatures significantly down to a reasonable 25 degrees. Annoyingly though, I discovered I’d forgotten my travel poncho in France. I went across the road in the morning for a Bislama lesson, and the rain was spitting down every so often during the lesson.

Our lesson was interrupted by the arrival at the resort of a big tour group – apparently the Radiance of the Seas (one of those giant cruise liners) had docked, and the resort was a coffee stop for one of their excursions.

As I bid my teacher Gaelle goodbye, she confirmed that we would have the afternoon lesson at one o’clock in my bungalow, to avoid getting interrupted by the cruise ship tourists. Possibly my Bislama comprehension was at fault, because at one o’clock she wasn’t anywhere to be seen, although in fairness the rain had started coming down really hard. I waited half an hour, then went across to the resort to check she wasn’t there. I waited 20 minutes to see if she would show up, and then gave up waiting and decided to try to get into town to open a bank account with the National Bank of Vanuatu. The rain was still bucketing down, so I put my phone, wallet and passport into a drybag (good tip from Brendan to buy one in NZ) and went and waited for a bus/taxi (the distinction between the two is vague here). Got to the bank pretty wet, and after a few minutes of waiting, at about 2:05pm, I managed to ask a cashier about opening an account. He was apologetic, but said there was a cut-off for opening new accounts at 2pm. No idea why, the bank was open for another three hours, but he said the bank’s smaller branch 500m up the road had no such cutoff.

So I walked the 500m up the road, although the rain had intensified at this point, and in the three minutes it took me to walk, I was soaked down to my underpants. Filled out half a dozen application forms, but he wasn’t able to accept my application as I’d left my visa letter at home, so I’ll have to swing by again tomorrow.

A subsequent trip to the medical clinic confirmed that there is no HepB vaccine on the island of Santo, so for my third dose due in a couple of weeks I’m going to have to figure out a way to get it from Port-Vila to Malekula. The street the clinic was on seemed quite a posh part of town with some nice houses on it.

Finally, still with wet underpants, I got a bus home only to find the following note from Gaelle:

And so I did my homework whilst eating a supper I made of chilli beans on toast. All in all, the rain, the waiting and the missed timings has lowered my spirits a bit, so I might now go to the next door nakamal (thatched kava bar) to see if they’ll sell me a beer or some kava to cheer me up.