Goatless Goat Island, Because Erro Just Isn’t Small Enough.

That big blob is the island we live on, Erromango. It is only about 20 miles wide, and not much taller. To someone from the giant continental USA, it’s minuscule. But do you see the tiny little dot on the upper right corner? That’s Goat Island, as we affectionately call it (Vete Manung Island on this map). And we’ve wanted to visit it since we laid eyes on it.

Our Erromangan family and neighbors refer to this speck as Goat Island because someone used to keep their goats there. Given how difficult it is to get on and off this rock, they were more or less left alone. Their population grew and grew until they pretty much decimated all vegetation on the island. Then they were moved back to Erro. Since then, this place rarely gets any visitors.

When we said we wanted to stay the night sometime, our host papa’s eyes grew big and he paused in silence…then he recovered and said “No problem. I’ll go with you.” That was some time last year. Since then, we learned that our island neighbor is thought to be haunted, and that no one has spent the night there in anyone’s memory. Naturally, we were even more intrigued. Besides, Pappa Joe assured us that it was just superstition and silliness. Pffft.

So finally it came to pass that we made the journey. We did not end up staying the night (children were with us for goodness sake!), but had an incredible time anyway. Below is the visual evidence. Enjoy.

On our way. Poor Esther was terrified on the way out, clinging to Sambat. But you’d never guess she was afraid once she hit land again~ that girl will climb cliffs.

Course set straight for the speck of rock in the distance.

We had to go to the other side of it to find somewhere we could jump off the boat and onto the island. In the background you can see Erro.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get pictures of getting off the boat and onto the island. Imagine standing on the front of the boat, waiting for the water, the boat, and the slippery wet lava rock to all line up just right so you can make your jump. Good times.

Ever visited tidal pools nearly untouched by humans? Peter and I were the last off the boat, and before we could even catch our balance on the rocks, every person who had come with us had either a fish or crab (or both) in each hand. So rich in life.

Tidal pools.

Then we turned around and began to climb to the top. (See Pappa Joe up there? Esther climbed straight up that rock face fearlessly.) All of this black rock is lava rock~ but once you get around the corner, the color changes drastically.

See what I mean? Suddenly we were in southern Utah.

Made it to the top!

Even up here, the first thing Nesi did was attack the ground until he had this huge crab wrapped safely in its leafy restraints.

Then into the tangle of trees, Nesi and his bush knife leading the way.

Beautiful and TALL trees.

Did I mention that this would happen with every other step we took? All those amazing trees, and the birds here BURROW and nest underground. Wedge-tailed Shearwaters, I think. Made it difficult to explore, but obvious that the ground was untouched by humans (at least for quite some time).

Time to climb to the top of the top! See that little person in the middle? That’s our little sister, Esther. You can see Pappa Joe’s red shirt on the top right.

She waited so we could catch up and enjoy this incredible Banyon.

A bigger and equally incredible banyon tree.

After the experience that was more like climbing a tree (due to having to pull ourselves up the steep incline using the trees that were strongly rooted to the rocks) than hiking up a hill, we made it to the top!

Yay!

The camera doesn’t do justice to the view of Erromango.

Um. Time to hike back down?

Enjoy the view for a bit first.

Looking for some eggs….I was equally relieved and disappointed when we didn’t find any. It would have been neat to be able to see this mysterious bird’s giant eggs, but I don’t know how I would have felt about eating them.

What happens when you don’t harvest pandanas? It turns into a beautiful backdrop for this photo. 🙂

Canopy shot.

Esther is nesting.

Beautiful.

Father and son. I LOVE this picture.

Warrior Pappa Joe.

Urchins? They moved and tickled my hand as I held them.

Sambat the Queen Fisher.

On top of the world!

Snack time~ peanut butter and biscuits.

Ok. Time to get back on the boat. We can do this. (Seriously though, this was terrifying. Especially to watch the kids get tossed over.)

The boat had to continuously maneuver itself to line up juuust right with the rocks without crashing into them with the current. The mere moments where everything was just right were the opportunities we had to get person after person on the boat.

And as you can see, the kids were basically just tossed, one pappa to another. They were too little to make the jump. Luckily, Peter and I managed on our own.

So that was our adventure to Goat Island. It was totally worth the incredible sunburn and even the infected foot wounds (in my opinion…hopefully Peter agrees with me. They were his feet…). I hope you enjoyed joining us on the adventure via these photographs.

Aelan Kakae–A sampling of an island garden

A very small sampling, for anyone curious. Most gardens here include a minimum of: several kinds of bananas (usually harvested while still green, flavorless, and nutrition-less), taro, manioc/cassava, several types of yam, sometimes kumala (sweet potato), papaya, and usually plenty of island cabbage. Less common but still around are things like garlic, local curry, spring onion, tomatoes, grapefruit, mango, passionfruit, etc. Much out of the latter list is very seasonal.

I don’t have many pictures, but here’s what I have for a visual:

Taro

Baby banana, island cabbage, etc…I think there’s a papaya tree in there somewhere….

Island Cabbage

Leaking into Tuesday

Journal entry 4 June 2014 (Cont’d from 3 June)

“The hives still haven’t gone away–does this expose my complete lack of faith? Faith as my faith healers would understand it, anyway.

“So this guy may not have been Jesus himself or even a saint conducting miracles, but I appreciated the sentiment, the cultural experience, and the opportunity to share it with people I love.

“Not long after that spectacle was concluded, it was time for Peter and I to go back to the school for study hour with combined classes 3+4. Peter started with some genuine English exercises, but eventually they started asking about their health homework. Since we’ve been talking about teeth and eyes, etc. (we had done preliminary eye screening for that class the day before), eventually we were talking about Peter’s and my glasses and how the lens relates to the microscope they looked through the day before, etc. Before long, my glasses were being passed around, each student trying them on for a fraction of a second before everyone would disintegrate into giggles. Over and over again we laughed and laughed. Then I dared them to try to walk around the room wearing them. Moses (the tallest, oldest, and shyest in the class) was the first to take up the dare–and we all laughed harder than ever when he only made it a few steps before swiping the glasses off his face and rubbing his eyes. This went on almost until the study hour was over.

That was one of the best moments I’ve ever had with those kids.

Then it was time to walk home. It was dark so our little brother Nesi and a friend (Lina) kept running ahead, hiding, and trying to jump out to scare us. By the end of the walk I was chasing them down the road, both of them screaming and laughing their heads off.

“Then we ate dinner with Nesi and Alisia (ages 9 and 11) and they told us stories of visions people have had, and how kids were being led around the village praying to scare away the devils. Much like when my American brothers and I were kids, they could hardly get their stories out because they kept getting so excited and talking over each other. Peter and I just did our best to keep up and remain enthusiastic listeners.

“Much of it was hard to follow as they told us about a devil that was wandering through the village that night–he wore a hood with horns coming out and huge teeth stuck out of his face. Nesi recalled for us the path that was taken as the pray-ers chased him out fo the village–also something about digging up a yam, someone’s hand in the ground swelling up because of this devil, then running away–another story about being in church with ‘the Healer’ from the day before, and how as everyone had their eyes close he described a vision to them–something about Jesus or the Holy Ghost pouring a cup of water on him to clean him–maybe he was the one whose hand swelled?–and when everyone opened their eyes, he was all wet.

“Then seamlessly these two kids went into telling us about a movie they saw where someone was decapitated and someone else washed his blood. Then a girl was tied down to a table, her arms and legs tied down and a ball gag put in her mouth…..

“‘That’s enough of that! I’m too scared to hear more~’ Thank you Peter for not letting that go on. Alisia admitted she had run away when they watched this movie.

“Movies are rarely a one or two person event here. When there’s a movie playing, half the village is watching. Kids and all.

“Of all the events of the day, from the faith healing onward, playing and connecting with the kids was by far the most touching part that filled me full of love for everyone there. Two kids telling us about their devout community–men, women, and children alike–watching a movie such as that described above was by far the most frightening.

“Feeling integrated, all in a day’s work, after 1.5 years of trying.”

Just another Monday

Journal entry, 3 June 2014

“If today wasn’t evidence of being integrated, I don’t know what would be (apart from maybe participating in a serious kastom ceremony–which no one in my village does anymore).

“I have had chronic hives since I was 12 or 13 years old. Sometimes they’re small itchy bumps, maybe one or two here and there, and sometimes they cover me crown to toe, leaving welts all over my skin so I look like someone beat me with a 2×4 until their arms fell off.

“This morning I woke up somewhere in the middle. Enough hives to not want to go sing and dance at a kindy with forty <6 year olds, but not enough to take steroids. So because I didn’t go to the pre-school, Uyo Rachel (and the rest of the planet Port Narvin and its visitors) knew I was some sort of sick.

“The Presbyterian youth group from the other side of the island has been here for nearly a week now, singing each night away in the church and around the village. Accompanying them is the infamous (on Erromango, in the Presbyterian church) Healer. He is known for his gift of faith healing. Uyo summoned him as soon as she was able, thus doing everything she knows how to do to help me.

“Eventually he arrived in our kitchen with Uyo, Peter’s counterpart Don, and another young woman I don’t know. The healer sat on one of our wooden chairs while the rest of us settled on a mat on the floor.

“Our healer began by quoting a few verses from the bible about faith and resting in the care of Jesus. Then he asked me about my ailment–how long/often I have it, if it causes pain, what other irritations it causes, etc. This part was fairly conversational between he and I.

“Then he returned to Bible references, speaking fast enough that I could just keep up. He talked about the church being important, but more important is our personal relationship with Jesus and the Father (I think Uyo must have tipped him off for this part since this is nearly word for word what I had said about why I don’t attend church–all except specifically referencing ‘Jesus’ and ‘the Father’).

“Next he announced that together we would all say individual prayers of forgiveness. I hadn’t thought it was Presbyterian, but I remembered one of the churches here doing the we-all-pray-out-loud-simultaneously thing, making it sound and feel like a seance. He said this prayer was to call down the ‘tabu spirit’ or holy ghost to come join us.

“As we all began to pray, I had no idea what to say. I felt so disingenuous and stupid–but to call it off would have not only been more awkward, but very rude and relationship-destroying.

“As far as I could tell, they were all praying in Bislama, whispered ‘Jesus’es here and there. I began to mumble awkwardly in English, not knowing what to say. I mostly commented aloud about how lucky I was to have such a unique experience and that I’d likely never experience something like it again. I tried to throw in a few phrases in there of asking–someone–for forgiveness for–stuff. It was a ‘forgiveness’ prayer after all.

“The prayer finally came to an end and the healer continued with the Bible references. Lay your ills at Jesus’ feet and with faith he will take care of us, etc. etc. And our ailments are mountains for us to climb, challenges for us to face–and hives have been my trouble since I was a teenager, so now He sent this guy to relieve me (I’m glad I didn’t tell him about the GI troubles and resulting discomforts I was also dealing with). He told me that the Holy Ghost and Jesus had the power to clean my blood (they’re all about dirty in the blood causing ailments) and cleanse my skin of my ailment. Then it was time to pray again.

“The young woman placed a beat-up Bible in my hands and they all gathered around me, each with a hand on me–one hand on my knee, one on my shoulder, and one on my arm–and the praying began again. At first I had pray-ers’ block…but finally I began muttering with them. This time the words came easier. I talked about gratitude for these people who were doing so much for me in these two years of my life-changing experience; that I wish for them the same positive opportunities to expand their perpective and understanding; that as awkward as I felt, I was glad to be experiencing something so exceptional and that I have so much gratitude for the effort they are making for my benefit…then finally the prayer came to an end.

“For the first time (outside of prayer) someone other than the healer spoke up, but in the local language (which had to be translated for me). She said she had a vision of a beam of light shining down on me. I smiled and otherwise left that alone–she has a right to her own experiences without questioning or even comment from me. But the healer was not to be outdone (that’s how it felt to me anyway) and he told of his vision of the holy ghost, like he was washing dishes, wiping my skin clean. This time it did take an effort not to raise an eyebrow at him. Uyo even let out a small giggle.

“He then went on to tell us that God has a supply of blood in heaven, and if you come to him with your troubles and have faith in him, he will relieve you of your diseased blood and replace it with this blood supply. There’s a similar supply of skin for the same purpose. There’s a supply of every body part that could ever ail. Through all of this I didn’t know what else to do but look up at him as he talked and smile.

“Finally we came to the final prayer. The words came relatively easily this time, saying much of the same things, hoping the people surrounding me couldn’t’ feel how disingenuous and stupid I felt–guilty even.

“Afterward we all smiled. The Healer said if I get a hive again, I can put my hand on it and focus my faith on asking Jesus for relief and he will wash me clean. We all shook hands, saying ‘God bless’ and they left.

“Afterward, I felt anxious, awkward, and even a little shaky. It made my hives start to itch.”

To be continued….

We need a bigger shovel!

A quick story from my journal:

16 May~

“The last night I have to myself before Peter comes back–well I think so far I’ve handled it quite well.

“A month or so ago I experienced the passing of my first cyclone. It was intense, but we never got within about 100 kilometers of the eye, so we managed. I was too caught up in preparing for potentially being hit by Cyclone Lusi and taking care of Peter who had a high fever (dengue?) at the time to keep a journaled record of the experience [but you can read the account I wrote later here].  But seeing as how I’m sitting here along with nothing to do tonight, I may as well record tonight’s experiences.

“It’s been raining for a solid week now. Ok fine, it has taken short breaks, at times was nothing more than a mist, and even took a full day’s break to allow us to do laundry–but it has been wetter than wet. Especially considering we’re supposed to be firmly in dry season now.

“It’s Friday, so it’s my last evening to cook dinner for myself before Peter comes back from Vila. [We cook for ourselves Friday night-Sunday. The rest of the time we eat with our host family.] Friday is also the day for ‘go long bot’–for drinking, whether it’s alcohol or kava. [I usually bring a light alcoholic beverage to enjoy while everyone else drinks kava, which my body has officially and firmly rejected.]

“I announced this fact earlier to the few people still in the village–most are on holiday somewhere else on the island for the school spel. So it’s mostly just been Mama Sonia, Daddy Bob, Uyo, Fabian (pregnant) and Auntie Yam (with newborn)–and only them I had to invite to join me. It was only raining lightly at the time, but still I wondered about the likelihood of them joining me in my kitchen without kava to entice them. And as the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the time approached to start a fire to begin cooking, the rain started coming down in buckets.

“I already knew that this meant no one would be venturing out to join me, but I also learned (in this order):

1. That our kitchen AND swim house can flood.
2. That Peter’s “rain coat” is a wind breaker at best, and not at all water proof.
3. That we need to replace our solar lights–they don’t work anymore.
4. That we need a bigger shovel.

“Number 3 actually probably came first, since it was already dark when our kitchen flooded.

“If all that alone does not tell you tonight’s story, I’ll also tell you the aftermath:

“There are now random holes in the ground between our sleeping house and the kitchen, but there’s a decent barrier that is keeping more water from getting into the kitchen, at least for now. The swim house too is no longer flooded.

“I enjoyed my drink and my meal of already-cold cheesy quinoa while every inch of me dripped onto the kitchen floor. Then I took a hurried, luke-warm (from previously boiled water) bucket bath, taking more time than I wanted to scrub the mud off my legs, feet, and flip-flops. Then I got into dry clothes, and crawled into bed.

“Here I am now. The rain is still pouring. I left the kitchen open so that Nalla would have somewhere (relatively) dry to sleep. I hope the dirt barriers and trenches that I made in the dark keep the water out of the kitchen for the night. We shall see.

“All this on the one night that I fill myself with alcoholic fluids. And, I’ll remind anyone who reads this, we do NOT have indoor plumbing.”

Our house–all still buried in the coconut leaves put there to protect it from Cyclone Lusi. On the left you can see the doorway to our sleeping house. On the right you can see how far I had to walk to get to the toilet. In between is the kitchen.

 

Grassroot Soccer: Limbo Style!

My favorite and definitely one of the most photogenic of SKILLZ practices: HIV Limbo! The height of the string represents the age difference between you and your partner. (or having one at all.) These are definitely some of my favorite pics.

Introducing Grassroot Soccer to the South Pacific!

I read about this program Grassroot Soccer (GRS) in a Peace Corps publication called WorldView. GRS uses soccer to teach youth about HIV, life skills, and general sexual health. Given my host country’s incredibly high STI and early pregnancy rates as well as their adoration for soccer, I naturally found it quite intriguing. Knowing how much she loves soccer, I called my fellow PCV, Syd, to see what she thought of it. She said she’d let me know when she had a chance to read about it. That was at the end of last year. Time passed.

Then one day I get a message from her saying “Let’s join our Community Health powers and do this thing!” Since the program has not yet come into the South Pacific, we decided to pilot it here in Port Vila and just see how it went. We both came into town and, in three days, had it planned and were ready to begin (and whew what a few days that was).

Long story short, IT WAS AWESOME!  So much fun, such awesome people, great venue (Wan Smolbag soccer field), and support from random places, such as Vanuatu Football Federation. Oh, and hundreds of pictures. Here’s a taste. More to come.

Behold the two bags full of hundreds of condoms that lived by my hotel bed, reminding me each morning before the event started of what was coming. 🙂

Signing the contract. The very first practice begins with establishing the rules. This allows for us to build a safe environment to discuss taboo topics in a conservative culture.

Each cone represents risky behavior–no touchy!

I really wanted to join them in doing these exercises, but I just couldn’t resist taking pictures of them.

Feeling like a coach. Weird. And cool.

Sexual network.

Meet Frank. We met him two days before the whole thing kicked off. We told him what we were doing and he committed himself to co-facilitate the whole thing with us at the drop of a hat. This man doesn’t sit still. He coaches just about every sport Wan Smolbag has to offer and is anxious to get more life-skills for youth activities into the Wan Smolbag basket. He blew us away, always there before us and always stayed late. Any glitch (and with only three days of planning, there were plenty), he was on it. Couldn’t have done it without this new insta-friend.

Syd is brilliant. She came up with the most awesometastic soccer-related icebreaker during a break between “practices”. I hope I get to work with the girl plenty–in any way. She plain and simply kicks butt in every way possible.

Cheer: FIFA WORLD CUP!”

Keep an eye out for more! So many pictures and so much fun! I intend to pilot the program yet again in the rural setting of my village on Erromango. Stay posted for stories from all these great experiences!

Bak Bakegen…Bakegen.

With less than 6 months of service to go, both Peter and I are feeling the pressure of trying to wrap up our involvement in things, not take a single minute for granted, and preparing for starting life in the States again.  For this town visit, I should be here two full weeks. I’ll try to make up for lost time with interesting posts and updates. I’m a bit pooped for anything too in-depth now though, so I’ll simply throw a bunch of pictures at you for now, then get serious later. Enjoy. 🙂

Remember when I posted the story about the wordsearch craze? Well this is what our village looked like at that time:

Then there’s that time the French Navy came to film the donation of rain tanks to villages surrounding ours (ours was the port, but not the recipient. I may have giggled like the child that I am at their tiny shorts.

An example of the exciting hand made posters I make for classrooms.

STAMPEDE! That’s me standing there like a deer-in-headlights on the right… 

This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands! This is the way…

Too adorable to leave out: our sis being justifiably proud of her sculpture that masters the art of rubber balancing. 

Papa Joe and his main man cleaning kava… you’re never too young.

Then I played sports for a while. I’m equally able to have fun as suck. Unfortunately, I’m also equally capable of injuring myself.

Just two of the 3 Stooges.             

The full 3 Stooges trio. I need to get video of these goofuses playing together uploaded (uploaded! click here!). I’ll figure out how to do that…someday.

Rennovation of the tippy-tap! This time the whole school got involved. Here are a bunch of kids carrying rocks/coral/sand in their shirts for the soak away (after they popped the tire on the school wheel barrow).

Testing, testing. Yes! Even the smallest student can use it! Success!

The team responsible (all class 6). [from left to right, Andrew, Netai, Shila, and Mini]

We stole the microscope from a dusty corner in the clinic, got it cleaned up, and BAM! The kids get to see an ant’s teeth for the first time. Now if only we can find a lens that can see bacteria or something… 

And the latest, Peter helping me eye screen all the primary school kids.

Christmas in Retrospect

As many of you know, we were lucky enough to get visitors over Christmas! My brother and his wife spent 10 days with us here in Vanuatu~ The first week on Erromango and the remainder in Port Vila.

Because they have much better internet back in the States, we just let them upload all of the pics and videos we compiled during the holiday and the rest of their visit.

For photos, click here.

For a really awesome video of our puddle-hopper landing at our village’s non-commercial-approved landing strip, click here.

And last but not least, click here if you’d like a bunch of our host brothers, sisters, and cousins to sing happy birthday to you. 🙂

Enjoy!

(Case in point, I tried to upload just one photo to this post, and today it’s just not going to happen. So enjoy these links!)

 

Swimming In the Rain in Vanuatu: A Quick Story

Stolen from http://www.digitaltrends.com/cool-tech/strolling-between-the-rain-drops-inside-momas-rain-room/

“God is in the rain!”

I had been saving my to-do list all week to do today, Saturday, the day there was nothing I could do for the Peace Corps office. When I stepped outside with the intention of walking all over Port Vila for the rest of the day, I was reminded how sheltering a western-style building can be (versus the bamboo walls of my house on Erromango). During my lazy morning I had been completely ignorant of the fact that it was POURING RAIN. For anyone who has spent time in Vanuatu, you know this weather is not exactly conducive to being productive.

Most people who know me know that I used to adore a good downpour. When grooming dogs, if I noticed bucketfuls of rain pouring from the sky, I would put my dog away and take a moment to dance in the rain, with onlooking co-workers and clients probably wondering what was wrong with me. Rain simply evoked my need to embrace that very moment and otherwise not have a care in the world.

Due to no longer having the convenience of power dryers at my disposal, rain has since become, at best, an excuse to hide in my house, and at worse, a hindrance to accomplishing anything at all until the sun peeked out again, with the promise of extreme humidity, high levels of mosquitoes, and plenty of mud.

So, faced with a thunderstorm with a long walk ahead of me this morning, I decided to recall and embrace my Portland-Enlightened self and rejoice in the rain. I turned away from the bus stop and started walking.

Within minutes my glasses were rendered useless, so I took them off. Suddenly the ground was much further away and I was towering over the mud and rivers beneath my feet. I felt like I was on top of the world! Feeling euphoric and full of glee, I grinned and waved at every person I passed. Lucky for not wearing my glasses, I could only see them wave back without seeing how many facial expressions were communicating my perceived insanity.

Apart from the waving I could make out from under awnings, inside buildings, and inside vehicles, I took note of the buses that were passing by me. There was quite a bit of traffic swooshing past me on the half flooded road–and every single one of them went out of their way (sometimes WAY out of their way) to not spray the muddy lake on the road onto me. It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to notice the continual small things humans do for each other. It felt SO good.

Long story short, as I was simply enveloped by the wet embrace of the rain, I was reminded that whenever I so choose, I–and everyone and everything I encounter–can tower over the muck and simply bath in the goodness of the moment.

Who needs therapy when we have rain?

p.s. To read about the last time I so thoroughly enjoyed puddle diving, click here and read about Peter’s and my one evening in Chicago.