Hello Everyone! Sorry I haven’t been able to update most of you, I have only been around internet for a few hours since I have been here so I guess I have to start from the beginning. Arriving in Vanuatu was surreal, to say the least. The group of everyone that I met with in LA turned out to be really fun and get along really well, which I think for a while distracted most of us from what was actually happening in our lives. Then all of a sudden we were declaring ourselves new residents at Port Vila International Airport and being greeted by an overwhelming swarm of current PCV’s and Peace Corps staff wrapping lava lava’s around our waist and shoving coconuts in our hands. For a week after that we stayed in a training camp where we were quickly forced to get used to waking up at 5:30 to the roosters and long afternoons in a hot tin building but falling asleep each night to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach; none of which I really minded.
Now fast forward and I have become the proud owner of a 24 inch bush knife, drinken kava with a village chief, and gotten used to any spider less than two inches in diameter because, well, its small. I have seen myself in a mirror a maximum of 5 times and unless I’ve just gotten out of the shower, I have hands and feet that any mother would be ashamed of. One thing we all quickly learned is that cleanliness is relative and as long as I’m not completely covered in mango juice or have saltwater in my hair, I’m good to go.
A couple weeks ago we arrived in our training village of Mangaliliu which is located in northwest Efate and is known for having some of the best snorkeling in Vanuatu (which from my experience is true) and being the site of Survivor Vanuatu which ironically my mother may be watching right this very moment. My house is extremely nice in terms of Ni-Van living as it has both an indoor flush toilet and shower and is made out of cement rather than local materials which makes it much less conducive to five inch spiders and poisonous centipedes.
Speaking of which, I did have a little visitor make a crash landing in my room the other night. I had just gotten in bed and still had my headlamp on, which even before I never slept without, and was able to make out pretty quickly that it was a rat that had decided to stop in for a visit. I have no idea where it came from since there are no holes in the ceiling but I think we were both surprised and very displeased by our meeting. After some serious pep talking with myself, I found a way to usher him out of my room and haven’t exactly slept well since. This was a pretty harsh but necessary realization that there is more than just missing all you people that I am going to have to get used to over these next couple years and it is certainly not going to be easy. Also, that I need to get a cat, asap.
Training, which will last about 4 more weeks, is notoriously hated because the days are packed full of mostly dragged out classes and technical training followed by nights having to speak Bislama with our host families and the general awkwardness that results from cultural differences. This whole area is getting better but leads me to a very important part of Ni-Van culture called storian. Anywhere else this would be called a bunch of women pretending to be working or cooking but really just sitting around talking and gossiping, maybe with a side project. Sounds great right? Well, not when you don’t fluently speak Bislama and for most of us this leads to hours of just sitting with them in silence. In their culture, women apparently don’t like to be left alone so they think they are doing you a favor just by sitting with you even if they have run out of things to talk about, whereas in American culture this seems awkward and just plain useless. It is a bit better when my host parents are around as well as the pikinini who are insanely cute, and now that they have gotten over smiling and staring at the strange white alien in their grandma’s house, love to talk and play cards and duck duck goose with me.
I am also really excited because I just found out that in a couple weeks I will be going to Ambae for my host volunteer visit. This is one of the islands I have been wanting to see most and really just going to another island at all is really exciting at this point since our training village is down a big steep hill with no cell phone service and feels really isolated. Also, Ambae is supposed to be really cool and is known for having one of the biggest active volcanoes in Vanuatu. It is tradition that everyone who climbs it gets a tattoo of the island at the bottom. The volunteer I’m visiting lives really close to it and I’ll only be there a week but if we get the chance I definitely plan to make the hike. Since my dad I’m sure is reading this, I won’t comment on the whole tattoo thing..
Overall everything else is going pretty well. I am enjoying the company of other volunteers while I can, I seem to have a pretty good handle on the language and I generally enjoy being with my host family. Every Saturday we go to the garden and I attempt to help cut down banana trees then not die on the way back as I carry a giant roll of banana leaves on my shoulder while my sisters carry that plus a couple pumpkins and bananas on their head. Ni-Van women may not be motivated to work outside the home or even brush their teeth but they are amazing in their physical and emotional strength. Then Sunday morning we all make lap lap before going to church. Lap lap is probably the most common form of the staple root crops here and also probably the most difficult to make and disgusting thing I have ever eaten. Making it not only involves the above mentioned work in the garden but also shaving about 10 coconuts, scraping the inside of about 30 bananas or taro or whatever kind you’re making, mushing it all together with coconut milk then finally shaving down the spine of the banana leaf to wrap it up in and cook on hot coals. All that work for a food that tastes at best like feet and is the consistency of paste. After last Sunday’s lap lap lunch of which I managed to eat about six bites before being “fulap tumas”- too full to eat anything else my papa asked me why blackman can eat so much more than whiteman. Rather than say what I wanted, whiteman no likem lap lap, hemi tastem olsem wan foot, I made up something about us not being used to eating root crops so we get fuller faster. That being said, don’t take your hamburgers and salads and burritos for granted, already I am dying even for just a slice of cheese.
The food is just one of many things I’m still getting used to. Another is the plethora of health problems that are just accepted as a way of life and the treatment of dogs which can range but instead of going into the details Ill stop rambling and leave you with some pictures. There will be plenty of time to talk later about fun stuff like the staff infections some volunteers got from our chief
Here is one of my favorite pikinini playing with some puppies of a family dog. I’ll only say that I am trying to teach the kids that carrying them by their tails or one of their legs is not a comfortable means of transportation for the dog.
And Tricia, to answer your question, I don’t have the luxury of a sink to brush my teeth or wash my face in, but I do it under a little spout attached to my house. This however is my view while I do, so I’m willing to make the sacrifice..
And heres one of the children in the village after we had a little Halloween party with them where we carved some pumpkins. Not only are they better with knives than we are but I'm pretty sure they think we are insane for cutting up what for them is an everyday food. Regardless, they had lots of fun
I miss you all and am thinking of everyone all the time!
