The Peace Corps divides its projects into three areas of expertise: Education, Community Health, and Business. During our pre-service training, we typically had 4 days of training common to all areas (Bislama class, safety & security, policies and procedures, culture) with 1 day when we would split up to focus on work / training specific to our project area.
The Education Project is known as SHREP – Strengthening Human Resources through Education Programs. SHREP volunteers work throughout Vanuatu educating students, building the capacity of teachers, strengthening institutions / developing educational resources, and developing communities. This could entail anything and everything from hands-on teaching at elementary, secondary, or university; writing curriculum that can be implemented by teachers throughout the country; provide teacher training; or perhaps even working with an institution to gain certification. Group 23 has 15 SHREP volunteers.
The Community Health Project has volunteers in both the Shefa and Penama provinces of Vanuatu. Volunteers support health and hygiene programs throughout the country by working with village health workers; strengthening village health committees and aid post committees; organizing and facilitating health awareness workshops; and working with village water committees to improve water systems throughout the country. Group 23 has 14 community health volunteers.
The Business Project is known as the PEACE (Provincial Economic and Community Empowerment) Project. PEACE volunteers work with existing organizations to meet their objectives and achieve self-sufficiency; assist Provincial Area Administrators conduct community assessments; organize and conduct training and workshops; and assist and train community leaders. Group 23 started with 12 volunteers. However, four people have either been medically separated or chose to return to America, so there are currently 8 volunteers within this project – including me.
I started work as a PEACE volunteer on November 8 with ACTIV Association – a non-government organization (similar to a non-profit in the U.S.). ACTIV stands for "Alternative Communities Trade in Vanuatu and works to market and sell Vanuatu products. Some of these products are being grown or produced within areas currently served by other Peace Corps volunteers, so it’s likely that I’ll have business as well as personal contact with volunteers scattered throughout the islands. One of the major things ACTIV is considering is certification as an organic cocoa bean exporter – which will be a major effort to complete. But ACTIV also works to market and sell vanilla beans; pepper; various oils; honey; hand woven mats, baskets, and portfolios; and even grass skirts. Since starting, I’ve been busy completing a product inventory and getting ready for the annual Christmas Exhibition which runs the last week in November and the first week in December. Over the next two years I look forward to working with the organization to develop and implement its strategic plan, streamline day-to-day business activities, explore opportunities for funding, and seek out ways to improve visibility within the community.
The office is about a 25-minute walk from my apartment, and I work 5 days a week from 8 am to 4:30 pm every day. However, like other businesses in Port Vila, the office is closed each day from 11:30-1:30, so I get a wonderful mid-day break to do whatever! The office is only a block away from the Peace Corps office, which is great because I can drop in to check on mail, packages, and work on my Blog and Facebook – or just hang out with other volunteers. The Medical Office is also there, so it’s easy for me to pick up my favorite new fragrance: Eau de Deet!!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
SITE ANNOUNCEMENTS - GOODBYE EKIPE…FINAL EXAMS…AND SWEARING-IN
Although there were some moments when I wondered what the heck I was doing here and whether or not I had a brain in my head for following this dream (when at times it felt like a nightmare), I made it through pre-service training (PST) in Ekipe. Don’t get me wrong, the people were absolutely wonderful to me – and I had it no worse than anybody else in PST – but nonetheless, it was sometimes a struggle.
Things as simple as walking to class each day were a challenge. Honestly, the paths were quite primitive and were embedded with things like tree roots, large rocks, or coral – just waiting to trip the unwary walker. Add to that the occasional wild pigs, chickens, or cows that you had to look out for and it’s an accident waiting to happen!
Those of you who know me already understand that my middle name is “Klutz” – well, let’s just say that I earned it many times over in Ekipe! I’ll never forget the day that our site assignments were announced. Everybody had speculated the entire 8 weeks about where we would be assigned, so site announcement day was something to behold. We all gathered at the Ekipe Community Center and were huddled together on mats while the Country Director called out each person’s name and announced where they would be working. There were smiles (some genuine/some frozen on the face), gasps of surprise or dismay, and lots of laughter and hugs – followed by the reality that OH MY GOD – we are each heading out on our own now!! Some wonderful friendships have been formed throughout training, and we are all counting on that to get us through the next two years. Thankfully, the local cell phone provider – Digicel – has made an arrangement with Peace Corps for “Team Talk” wherein we can call each other and talk as long as we want without being charged for the minutes used. So that will be a God-send. However, the other reality is that some people will be in remote locales with spotty cell coverage – difficulty in finding a way to even charge their cell phones – and some will have to rely on satellite phones. So, it will be a bit of a learning curve and adjustment as reality sets in for all of us.
Just after the announcement, I was dashing back to my bungalow to tell my Mama and Papa that I would be stationed in Port Vila (they had prayed for that every day for the last 3 weeks). Well, rather than carefully watching where I was walking – I was “dashing” while trying to call my family on the phone – and at the same time flagging down a fellow volunteer ahead of me on the trail. Yep, you can picture it…the next thing I knew I was flat on the ground – arms skinned from the wrist to elbow and both knees banged up. The only thing I was worried about was whether or not my cell phone was working since it was in 2 pieces on the ground! Well, the good news is that the cell phone did work after reassembly – and the better news is that after some scrubbing with betadine and bandaging, I was also good to go!!
After site announcements, we had about a week left in our respective villages. Saturday evening, October 30th, each village had a big send off for its volunteers. The chief reflected on what it meant to the village to have volunteers in its midst, and I was asked to say a few words on behalf of our group in Ekipe. Then each volunteer was called forward when his or her family spoke about their 8 weeks with the volunteer and presented each with parting gifts – typically a mat, a swath of fabric (kaliko), a lovely flower lei, and sometimes some other handmade items. Each member of the family then embraced their volunteer. It was terribly emotional – we were their son or daughter going off to another place. It didn’t matter that I was nearly 20 years older than my Mama and Papa, I was still their daughter. After the formalities, we enjoyed a big feast, string music, dancing, and much merriment. Then just as we were ready to head home, it started the thunder, lightning, and rain began.
Sunday morning dawned along with torrential downpours of rain. Fortunately I brought a rain parka that covers my backpack, so after a breakfast of crackers and tea, we made our way to the church with all my stuff where it would be picked up by a truck for transport to Port Vila. Then we all met once again at the community center for yet another tearful goodbye. By the time we left Ekipe on Sunday morning, we were exhausted and ready for some rest.
But it was Halloween – so a party was being planned at a saloon just outside of Port Vila. Yes – I said a saloon. A couple from Colorado opened a micro-brewery, saloon, and restaurant on the outskirts of town, so a Halloween party was scheduled there that evening. Some volunteers went off to the party, while others (me and a few other volunteers) walked to a lovely restaurant on the water and had a couple bottles of wine with a fabulous dinner. It felt so luxurious – and so wonderful to have successfully moved to the next phase of Peace Corps. We had made it…now we just had to get through the exams prior to Swearing In.
Spread over the next couple of days, we had two written exams – one covering medical issues and one covering safety and security. Then we each had a one-on-one oral Bislama interview/exam. I’m happy to say that I passed everything and was heading off to Swearing-In!
November 4th – Swearing-In – dawned sunny and hot. But thankfully, it wasn’t raining! Each village decided to select a specific color and print fabric and have matching island dresses and shirts sewn for the Mama, Papa, and volunteer. So, it was a site to behold to sit up on the stage at Swearing In and look out over the crowd to spot the swaths of color-coded villagers with big smiles beaming back at us. Peace Corps provided transportation for families from each village into Port Vila. Despite the sweltering heat inside the building, everything went well. There were numerous speakers, but at last the big moment arrived. We all stood solemnly and repeated the oath after a Peace Corps Regional Director from Washington, DC. I recited the oath as follows:
Whoa – suddenly it all paid off. We had our certificates, our official Peace Corps pin, and we were now sworn to service. We made it!! Hip-hip hooorayyyy for Group 23!! (Although, I'm still worried about the part that says that I will "defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies..." I think I might need something bigger than a bush knife!!!)
Things as simple as walking to class each day were a challenge. Honestly, the paths were quite primitive and were embedded with things like tree roots, large rocks, or coral – just waiting to trip the unwary walker. Add to that the occasional wild pigs, chickens, or cows that you had to look out for and it’s an accident waiting to happen!
Those of you who know me already understand that my middle name is “Klutz” – well, let’s just say that I earned it many times over in Ekipe! I’ll never forget the day that our site assignments were announced. Everybody had speculated the entire 8 weeks about where we would be assigned, so site announcement day was something to behold. We all gathered at the Ekipe Community Center and were huddled together on mats while the Country Director called out each person’s name and announced where they would be working. There were smiles (some genuine/some frozen on the face), gasps of surprise or dismay, and lots of laughter and hugs – followed by the reality that OH MY GOD – we are each heading out on our own now!! Some wonderful friendships have been formed throughout training, and we are all counting on that to get us through the next two years. Thankfully, the local cell phone provider – Digicel – has made an arrangement with Peace Corps for “Team Talk” wherein we can call each other and talk as long as we want without being charged for the minutes used. So that will be a God-send. However, the other reality is that some people will be in remote locales with spotty cell coverage – difficulty in finding a way to even charge their cell phones – and some will have to rely on satellite phones. So, it will be a bit of a learning curve and adjustment as reality sets in for all of us.
Just after the announcement, I was dashing back to my bungalow to tell my Mama and Papa that I would be stationed in Port Vila (they had prayed for that every day for the last 3 weeks). Well, rather than carefully watching where I was walking – I was “dashing” while trying to call my family on the phone – and at the same time flagging down a fellow volunteer ahead of me on the trail. Yep, you can picture it…the next thing I knew I was flat on the ground – arms skinned from the wrist to elbow and both knees banged up. The only thing I was worried about was whether or not my cell phone was working since it was in 2 pieces on the ground! Well, the good news is that the cell phone did work after reassembly – and the better news is that after some scrubbing with betadine and bandaging, I was also good to go!!
After site announcements, we had about a week left in our respective villages. Saturday evening, October 30th, each village had a big send off for its volunteers. The chief reflected on what it meant to the village to have volunteers in its midst, and I was asked to say a few words on behalf of our group in Ekipe. Then each volunteer was called forward when his or her family spoke about their 8 weeks with the volunteer and presented each with parting gifts – typically a mat, a swath of fabric (kaliko), a lovely flower lei, and sometimes some other handmade items. Each member of the family then embraced their volunteer. It was terribly emotional – we were their son or daughter going off to another place. It didn’t matter that I was nearly 20 years older than my Mama and Papa, I was still their daughter. After the formalities, we enjoyed a big feast, string music, dancing, and much merriment. Then just as we were ready to head home, it started the thunder, lightning, and rain began.
Sunday morning dawned along with torrential downpours of rain. Fortunately I brought a rain parka that covers my backpack, so after a breakfast of crackers and tea, we made our way to the church with all my stuff where it would be picked up by a truck for transport to Port Vila. Then we all met once again at the community center for yet another tearful goodbye. By the time we left Ekipe on Sunday morning, we were exhausted and ready for some rest.
But it was Halloween – so a party was being planned at a saloon just outside of Port Vila. Yes – I said a saloon. A couple from Colorado opened a micro-brewery, saloon, and restaurant on the outskirts of town, so a Halloween party was scheduled there that evening. Some volunteers went off to the party, while others (me and a few other volunteers) walked to a lovely restaurant on the water and had a couple bottles of wine with a fabulous dinner. It felt so luxurious – and so wonderful to have successfully moved to the next phase of Peace Corps. We had made it…now we just had to get through the exams prior to Swearing In.
Spread over the next couple of days, we had two written exams – one covering medical issues and one covering safety and security. Then we each had a one-on-one oral Bislama interview/exam. I’m happy to say that I passed everything and was heading off to Swearing-In!
November 4th – Swearing-In – dawned sunny and hot. But thankfully, it wasn’t raining! Each village decided to select a specific color and print fabric and have matching island dresses and shirts sewn for the Mama, Papa, and volunteer. So, it was a site to behold to sit up on the stage at Swearing In and look out over the crowd to spot the swaths of color-coded villagers with big smiles beaming back at us. Peace Corps provided transportation for families from each village into Port Vila. Despite the sweltering heat inside the building, everything went well. There were numerous speakers, but at last the big moment arrived. We all stood solemnly and repeated the oath after a Peace Corps Regional Director from Washington, DC. I recited the oath as follows:
I, Carla Sanda, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, domestic or foreign, that I take this obligation freely, and without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties in the Peace Corps, so help me God.
WOKBOAT LONG PAAMA (Walk-About to Paama)
PST (pre-service training) week 5 arrived and everybody was soooo excited – this is the week that each of us gets to fly off to another island to spend a few nights with a current volunteer. Yippppeeeee – we get to leave our training village for the “outside world”! The Peace Corps has about 90 volunteers scattered throughout Vanuatu – but not on all 83 or so islands. Some islands have multiple volunteers while others may have just one. In years past, trainees would be dispatched to their proposed assigned site so that they could check it out and get familiar with things. However, this year we were assigned to random sites – so I was off to Paama! Paama is a tiny little speck of an island north of Efate and situated just between the island of Epi (home of the dugongs – or sea cows) and Ambrym – home of twin volcanoes. Depending upon their destination island, volunteers were scheduled to leave on Saturday, October 15th, or Sunday, October 16th.
My big day was Saturday, October 16th. If I haven’t mentioned it before, I’ll tell you now that traditional alarm clocks are not needed in Vanuatu – nature also provides that in the form of “gangs” of crowing roosters. (I call them gangs because flock is just too soft and gentle for these roosters!!) Now, these birds start crowing sometimes as early as 1:30 am and continue until the wee hours – not to mention tearing around all day through the village strutting their stuff and crowing some more!! So, I was awake before sunup! Several other volunteers in the village were also leaving on Saturday – so we all headed out together at about 5:15 along with our host families and sleepy kids in tow for the short walk from our houses along a path to the paved road that circles Efate. It was pretty dark still and drizzling just a bit, so we were trying to juggle our bags, solar lanterns, umbrellas – and in my case, the requisite life preserver since my trip would involve a boat ride to the village on Paama.
I left Port Vila on a very teeny plane for a short 45-minute flight to Paama. However, as we approached the island I was foolishly looking for the runway. There was none in sight – but just about 10 seconds before landing I realized that we were heading for a mowed grassy strip that went UPHILL from the ocean towards the jungle. Yes, folks, that was the runway! Now I don’t know if you’ve ever landed on a runway that goes uphill – let’s just say that for a moment there I wished that I had a rosary with me!! At any rate, we bumped along, slowed down, and stopped just at the edge of the jungle. The airport building was just a small white open-air “house”. As I stepped out of the plane, I saw Amy Chan waving and heading towards me with a beautiful warm, welcoming smile. Amy has been on Paama as a volunteer for two years and has worked with the Mamas in her village to produce and sell handmade fabric “baskets” under the program aptly named “Baskets 4 Change”. Amy greeted me along with her sister from the village of Tahi, and then we were off.
Hauling everything, we walked about ¼ mile over quite a rocky terrain to a small boat that took us from the airport to Tahi. Tahi is a very small village located along the western side of Paama and sits in the hills just along and above a beautiful black sand beach. As we pulled up to the beach, we got everything out of the boat and started the short walk to Amy’s house when we heard something. Amy and I looked at each other and realized it was the sound of women wailing. From the time she had left Tahi to meet me at the airport and returned, one of the village Mamas had died. I had no idea what to expect…but did realize that I was about to experience and learn about a very important island ritual.
Amy’s house is literally “perched” on a ledge at the top of a fairly steep climb. The front of her house looks out over the Rural Training Center and the main path leading from the village to the church, school, and beach. The back is literally at the edge of very dense jungle. Her house has been existence for quite awhile and was the home of another Peace Corps volunteer before she arrived. It consists of a combination living room/kitchen – with counter top 3-burner gas stove – and a small separate bedroom. Just outside she has a small room that is her “bath house” where I took a bucket bath each evening. A bucket bath entails filling a bucket with water, pouring water over your head and body, soaping and shampooing up, then following up with pouring more water from the bucket over your head and body to rinse. The toilet was an outhouse located about 1/3 of the way back down the steep hill. Believe me, at 3 in the morning it is no small feat to maneuver safely down a steep, wet, slippery hill to the outhouse and back. The first night I danged near ended up on my head at the bottom of the hill – thankfully I was able to stop my slide by grabbing onto a banana tree and then carefully found my way to/from the outhouse.
Shortly after our arrival, we went on a walking tour of the village and stopped at the home of the woman who had recently died. Upon our arrival, many of the village women were gathered around the body and as we stood on the grassy lawn, more and more women joined the group to wail. The body was fully covered and wrapped in grass mats, but many of the women also brought an additional mat or blanket and wrapped it around as well. Meanwhile, the men in the village were at the church digging the grave for the burial that would take place later in the day. The wailing continued throughout the day.
About mid-afternoon, Amy and I joined the congregants of the Seventh Day Adventist church for a picnic on the grounds of the church. Everybody smiled and welcomed me to the group. All the Mamas had cooked and brought several kinds of lap-lap, rice, island cabbage and other things that I had never seen and dished up heaping plates for everybody. I was sitting with the group chatting and eating when suddenly out of nowhere we heard extremely loud roosters squawking – and within a split second one of the roosters was either flung or jumped onto my back – with one very large foot on my left forearm – and then sprung off across the food and into the bush. Yes, I was attacked by a wild rooster! There must have been 50-75 people there – but that rooster somehow ended up on me. I carried around a fairly large abrasion and claw marks for about two weeks – but no infection and no lasting scar.
Then around 4:30 or so, the villagers began gathering at the home of the deceased Mama. About 6 or 8 men took strips of fabric (kaliko) and placed it under and around the body. They were the pallbearers and led a procession from the house to the cemetery. Amy and I joined in the procession as it wound past the path to her house. Upon our arrival at the cemetery, the pastor said a few words, and then each person there – including me – walked to the grave site and tossed in a handful of dirt. The wailing got even louder and continued until the grave was fully covered. Then the men placed large palm fronds at each corner of the site while the women put flowers on top. At that point, the women were asked to walk to the beach and begin carrying rocks back to cover the grave. So we made a couple of trips to/from the ocean’s edge carrying rocks that were placed upon the grave. Family members then formed a receiving line while all attendees shook each person’s hand with great solemnity. Just as we were filing away from the grave site, the men in the immediate family began their wailing. The funeral was capped with a community dinner at the nakamael (community center). So, this was my first day on Paama and my introduction to one of the important rituals of island life.
Over the next two days, Amy and I had several meals with her wonderful host Mama, Papa, 2 sisters and brother – and spent some time at the beach. One of my most memorable, awe-inspiring moments since arriving in Vanuatu occurred just after sunset on the beach. As I looked to my left, I could see the shadow of Epi – and to my right the shadow of Ambrym. But oh my God – I could also see the fire and orange steam coming off one of the volcanoes. I am not kidding, it felt like I was in Jurassic Park. At that moment I was so grateful for being in Vanuatu – how many people ever in their lifetime have an opportunity to see a site like that?? I feel very blessed.
Amy was a wonderful hostess, and it was so great to stay up late just chatting away with somebody who could tell it like it is because she has “been there / done that”. Amy is a very special person, and I’ll never forget the time I spent with her. Amy has now completed her two years with the Peace Corps and is enjoying a well-deserved break before heading on to the next chapter in life.
My big day was Saturday, October 16th. If I haven’t mentioned it before, I’ll tell you now that traditional alarm clocks are not needed in Vanuatu – nature also provides that in the form of “gangs” of crowing roosters. (I call them gangs because flock is just too soft and gentle for these roosters!!) Now, these birds start crowing sometimes as early as 1:30 am and continue until the wee hours – not to mention tearing around all day through the village strutting their stuff and crowing some more!! So, I was awake before sunup! Several other volunteers in the village were also leaving on Saturday – so we all headed out together at about 5:15 along with our host families and sleepy kids in tow for the short walk from our houses along a path to the paved road that circles Efate. It was pretty dark still and drizzling just a bit, so we were trying to juggle our bags, solar lanterns, umbrellas – and in my case, the requisite life preserver since my trip would involve a boat ride to the village on Paama.
I left Port Vila on a very teeny plane for a short 45-minute flight to Paama. However, as we approached the island I was foolishly looking for the runway. There was none in sight – but just about 10 seconds before landing I realized that we were heading for a mowed grassy strip that went UPHILL from the ocean towards the jungle. Yes, folks, that was the runway! Now I don’t know if you’ve ever landed on a runway that goes uphill – let’s just say that for a moment there I wished that I had a rosary with me!! At any rate, we bumped along, slowed down, and stopped just at the edge of the jungle. The airport building was just a small white open-air “house”. As I stepped out of the plane, I saw Amy Chan waving and heading towards me with a beautiful warm, welcoming smile. Amy has been on Paama as a volunteer for two years and has worked with the Mamas in her village to produce and sell handmade fabric “baskets” under the program aptly named “Baskets 4 Change”. Amy greeted me along with her sister from the village of Tahi, and then we were off.
Hauling everything, we walked about ¼ mile over quite a rocky terrain to a small boat that took us from the airport to Tahi. Tahi is a very small village located along the western side of Paama and sits in the hills just along and above a beautiful black sand beach. As we pulled up to the beach, we got everything out of the boat and started the short walk to Amy’s house when we heard something. Amy and I looked at each other and realized it was the sound of women wailing. From the time she had left Tahi to meet me at the airport and returned, one of the village Mamas had died. I had no idea what to expect…but did realize that I was about to experience and learn about a very important island ritual.
Amy’s house is literally “perched” on a ledge at the top of a fairly steep climb. The front of her house looks out over the Rural Training Center and the main path leading from the village to the church, school, and beach. The back is literally at the edge of very dense jungle. Her house has been existence for quite awhile and was the home of another Peace Corps volunteer before she arrived. It consists of a combination living room/kitchen – with counter top 3-burner gas stove – and a small separate bedroom. Just outside she has a small room that is her “bath house” where I took a bucket bath each evening. A bucket bath entails filling a bucket with water, pouring water over your head and body, soaping and shampooing up, then following up with pouring more water from the bucket over your head and body to rinse. The toilet was an outhouse located about 1/3 of the way back down the steep hill. Believe me, at 3 in the morning it is no small feat to maneuver safely down a steep, wet, slippery hill to the outhouse and back. The first night I danged near ended up on my head at the bottom of the hill – thankfully I was able to stop my slide by grabbing onto a banana tree and then carefully found my way to/from the outhouse.
Shortly after our arrival, we went on a walking tour of the village and stopped at the home of the woman who had recently died. Upon our arrival, many of the village women were gathered around the body and as we stood on the grassy lawn, more and more women joined the group to wail. The body was fully covered and wrapped in grass mats, but many of the women also brought an additional mat or blanket and wrapped it around as well. Meanwhile, the men in the village were at the church digging the grave for the burial that would take place later in the day. The wailing continued throughout the day.
About mid-afternoon, Amy and I joined the congregants of the Seventh Day Adventist church for a picnic on the grounds of the church. Everybody smiled and welcomed me to the group. All the Mamas had cooked and brought several kinds of lap-lap, rice, island cabbage and other things that I had never seen and dished up heaping plates for everybody. I was sitting with the group chatting and eating when suddenly out of nowhere we heard extremely loud roosters squawking – and within a split second one of the roosters was either flung or jumped onto my back – with one very large foot on my left forearm – and then sprung off across the food and into the bush. Yes, I was attacked by a wild rooster! There must have been 50-75 people there – but that rooster somehow ended up on me. I carried around a fairly large abrasion and claw marks for about two weeks – but no infection and no lasting scar.
Then around 4:30 or so, the villagers began gathering at the home of the deceased Mama. About 6 or 8 men took strips of fabric (kaliko) and placed it under and around the body. They were the pallbearers and led a procession from the house to the cemetery. Amy and I joined in the procession as it wound past the path to her house. Upon our arrival at the cemetery, the pastor said a few words, and then each person there – including me – walked to the grave site and tossed in a handful of dirt. The wailing got even louder and continued until the grave was fully covered. Then the men placed large palm fronds at each corner of the site while the women put flowers on top. At that point, the women were asked to walk to the beach and begin carrying rocks back to cover the grave. So we made a couple of trips to/from the ocean’s edge carrying rocks that were placed upon the grave. Family members then formed a receiving line while all attendees shook each person’s hand with great solemnity. Just as we were filing away from the grave site, the men in the immediate family began their wailing. The funeral was capped with a community dinner at the nakamael (community center). So, this was my first day on Paama and my introduction to one of the important rituals of island life.
Over the next two days, Amy and I had several meals with her wonderful host Mama, Papa, 2 sisters and brother – and spent some time at the beach. One of my most memorable, awe-inspiring moments since arriving in Vanuatu occurred just after sunset on the beach. As I looked to my left, I could see the shadow of Epi – and to my right the shadow of Ambrym. But oh my God – I could also see the fire and orange steam coming off one of the volcanoes. I am not kidding, it felt like I was in Jurassic Park. At that moment I was so grateful for being in Vanuatu – how many people ever in their lifetime have an opportunity to see a site like that?? I feel very blessed.
Amy was a wonderful hostess, and it was so great to stay up late just chatting away with somebody who could tell it like it is because she has “been there / done that”. Amy is a very special person, and I’ll never forget the time I spent with her. Amy has now completed her two years with the Peace Corps and is enjoying a well-deserved break before heading on to the next chapter in life.
Good Luck Amy!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
BISWHATTA???
Now that we were all established in our training villages, we began to “knuckle down” with our Bislama classes. Although Bislama is the national language of the Republic of Vanuatu, it’s important to also realize that there are more than 100 other recognized languages spoken by the ~220,000 Ni Vanuatu people – in addition to English and French. Believe me, it is more than a little humbling to live in a village that is in all reality still quite primitive in its lifestyle – yet the people typically speak 3 or 4 languages…quite fluently!
Most of the residents of Ekipe originated in Tongoriki, so their first language is the native language of Tongoriki. My first few days in the village, I was getting totally confused and more than a little upset because my family was not only speaking in Bislama – and correcting everything I would say in Bislama – but they were also insisting that I learn how to say most things in their native language as well. I finally mentioned to my language teacher, Kevin, that my family was insisting on teaching me 2 languages – and then many of the other trainees chimed in and said the same thing was happening to them! So, Kevin went around to each of the households and explained that Bislama was the only language being taught and to limit the immersion training to Bislama only. Things improved a bit after that. However, immersion language training was a challenge the entire 8 weeks because the family really only used Bislama when speaking directly to me. The rest of the time all conversing was within their Tongoriki language.
Bislama is known as a “pidgin” language – which originated with the “broken English” of early day whalers and traders. However, I have to say that I was pretty naïve in thinking that Bislama was going to be quite easy to learn. I began studying the basics before leaving the states – and since many of the words were the same or similar to English, I didn’t think it would be much of a challenge. But in reality, that is precisely what makes it such a challenge. Often times when speaking, I’ll stutter around trying to think of how to say something in Bislama when it is actually the English word…or some derivation of an English word. The other confusing thing about Bislama is that when asking a question, it is completely the opposite of how we would typically phrase a question. As an example, if you or I would want to know where the store is, we would just ask “Where’s the store?” But in Bislama, it is asked “Lo stoa i wea?” (The store is where?) Additionally, many of the words in Bislama have multiple meanings. As an example, the word “olsem” could mean: like, such as, to be as if, just as, as, like this, like that, like the one previously, for example, how…or just “ummmm”.
But perhaps the hardest part of it was that most of us felt very silly when we initially started speaking Bislama because we felt like we were about 2 years old. As an example, instead of saying “I like…”, in Bislama, it’s “Mi laekem” (me likem) – or I don’t like (Mi no laekem). Or, if something isn’t nice, in Bislama you would say “I no naes” – meaning “It’s not nice”. So, we would sometimes get out 1 or 2 words and then just start laughing and snorting uncontrollably.
So, to say that it was a challenge to me is truly an understatement. Language classes were typically first thing in the morning and usually lasted anywhere from 90 minutes to 2 hours. Classrooms are non-existent, so we typically carried a woven mat with us to somewhere under a tree or behind somebody’s house. It was hot and dirty – not to mention quite hard on the back and butt to sit on the ground with no back support. Or maybe that was only the case for an “Ol fala” (old person) like me! It was further compounded by flies, bugs, spiders and mosquitos that were unrelenting. On the other hand, at 9 am break, we usually snacked on some delicious fresh-picked fruit, so it wasn’t all bad.
I do remember one particular morning in Bislama class. We were about half way through the class trying to grasp the concept that “stap” (pronounced as stop) in Bislama does not mean STOP. Instead, it means “to be at”, “to stay”, “to stay at”, or “to live”. I was still trying to keep that straight in my head when we moved on to “finis” and “finism” – which could mean “have already”, “to have finished”, “finished”, or “then”. I don’t know if it was the sweltering heat, the “stap” or “finis” or “finism”, the flies and gnats, or the very loud and scary dog fight that broke out just a few feet away from where I was sitting – but the frustration of it all took over and I couldn’t take it another minute! I felt my throat closing and knew that croaking sobs weren’t far behind – so I just jumped up (as fast as I could jump up that is) off my mat, rolled it up, and tore out of class back to my little bungalow and let ‘er rip. I felt better after about an hour – and went back to class the next day. One of my classmats stopped by that afternoon and we commisserated together -- but finally ended up in howling laughter about where we were, how we were living, and that we were now reduced to talking like a toddler!
Yes, “Biswhatta” has been a challenge – so some of us teamed up to study together or to ask the language instructors for some additional sessions. One of the most helpful things for me was to stay after class and read the newspaper – and then tell the teacher in Bislama what the article was about. It was non-threatening, and it was a way to actually just talk back and forth and learn by talking.
I guess the old adage “all’s well that end’s well” really is true. I passed each of my weekly oral tests as well as the final oral examination. I’m by no means fully fluent even now, but am confident that I can speak well enough to be understood – and can ask a native speaker to slow down just a bit so that I can understand and respond – and can introduce myself:
Most of the residents of Ekipe originated in Tongoriki, so their first language is the native language of Tongoriki. My first few days in the village, I was getting totally confused and more than a little upset because my family was not only speaking in Bislama – and correcting everything I would say in Bislama – but they were also insisting that I learn how to say most things in their native language as well. I finally mentioned to my language teacher, Kevin, that my family was insisting on teaching me 2 languages – and then many of the other trainees chimed in and said the same thing was happening to them! So, Kevin went around to each of the households and explained that Bislama was the only language being taught and to limit the immersion training to Bislama only. Things improved a bit after that. However, immersion language training was a challenge the entire 8 weeks because the family really only used Bislama when speaking directly to me. The rest of the time all conversing was within their Tongoriki language.
Bislama is known as a “pidgin” language – which originated with the “broken English” of early day whalers and traders. However, I have to say that I was pretty naïve in thinking that Bislama was going to be quite easy to learn. I began studying the basics before leaving the states – and since many of the words were the same or similar to English, I didn’t think it would be much of a challenge. But in reality, that is precisely what makes it such a challenge. Often times when speaking, I’ll stutter around trying to think of how to say something in Bislama when it is actually the English word…or some derivation of an English word. The other confusing thing about Bislama is that when asking a question, it is completely the opposite of how we would typically phrase a question. As an example, if you or I would want to know where the store is, we would just ask “Where’s the store?” But in Bislama, it is asked “Lo stoa i wea?” (The store is where?) Additionally, many of the words in Bislama have multiple meanings. As an example, the word “olsem” could mean: like, such as, to be as if, just as, as, like this, like that, like the one previously, for example, how…or just “ummmm”.
But perhaps the hardest part of it was that most of us felt very silly when we initially started speaking Bislama because we felt like we were about 2 years old. As an example, instead of saying “I like…”, in Bislama, it’s “Mi laekem” (me likem) – or I don’t like (Mi no laekem). Or, if something isn’t nice, in Bislama you would say “I no naes” – meaning “It’s not nice”. So, we would sometimes get out 1 or 2 words and then just start laughing and snorting uncontrollably.
So, to say that it was a challenge to me is truly an understatement. Language classes were typically first thing in the morning and usually lasted anywhere from 90 minutes to 2 hours. Classrooms are non-existent, so we typically carried a woven mat with us to somewhere under a tree or behind somebody’s house. It was hot and dirty – not to mention quite hard on the back and butt to sit on the ground with no back support. Or maybe that was only the case for an “Ol fala” (old person) like me! It was further compounded by flies, bugs, spiders and mosquitos that were unrelenting. On the other hand, at 9 am break, we usually snacked on some delicious fresh-picked fruit, so it wasn’t all bad.
I do remember one particular morning in Bislama class. We were about half way through the class trying to grasp the concept that “stap” (pronounced as stop) in Bislama does not mean STOP. Instead, it means “to be at”, “to stay”, “to stay at”, or “to live”. I was still trying to keep that straight in my head when we moved on to “finis” and “finism” – which could mean “have already”, “to have finished”, “finished”, or “then”. I don’t know if it was the sweltering heat, the “stap” or “finis” or “finism”, the flies and gnats, or the very loud and scary dog fight that broke out just a few feet away from where I was sitting – but the frustration of it all took over and I couldn’t take it another minute! I felt my throat closing and knew that croaking sobs weren’t far behind – so I just jumped up (as fast as I could jump up that is) off my mat, rolled it up, and tore out of class back to my little bungalow and let ‘er rip. I felt better after about an hour – and went back to class the next day. One of my classmats stopped by that afternoon and we commisserated together -- but finally ended up in howling laughter about where we were, how we were living, and that we were now reduced to talking like a toddler!
Yes, “Biswhatta” has been a challenge – so some of us teamed up to study together or to ask the language instructors for some additional sessions. One of the most helpful things for me was to stay after class and read the newspaper – and then tell the teacher in Bislama what the article was about. It was non-threatening, and it was a way to actually just talk back and forth and learn by talking.
I guess the old adage “all’s well that end’s well” really is true. I passed each of my weekly oral tests as well as the final oral examination. I’m by no means fully fluent even now, but am confident that I can speak well enough to be understood – and can ask a native speaker to slow down just a bit so that I can understand and respond – and can introduce myself:
Nem blong me lo Vanuatu: Leiso. Nem blong me lo America: Carla. Mi wan pis kop voluntia mo mi stap lo Vanuatu lo 27 manis. Mi wok witem ACTIV lo maket mo expot produk lo Vanuatu.
SAFETY AND SECURITY...OR YIKES!!!
As if we didn’t have enough to worry about with things like sit-sit wota (diarrhea), malaria, fungal infections, head lice, scabies, or intestinal worms, we also had lots and lots of classroom instruction and exercises dealing with all the aspects of safety and security in Vanuatu.
When thinking of safety and security during my Peace Corps deployment, I focused primarily on potential bad things like assault, theft or rape. And yes, those are all concerns. In fact, there were hours spent in various role plays having to do with recognizing and avoiding potential situations that could lead to crimes against a Peace Corps volunteer – particularly a female volunteer. We learned all the statistics along with the tactics to use to avoid putting ourselves in harm’s way, and what to do if something actually should occur.
Well…one night during my last week in the village of Ekipe, I was sound asleep in my bungalow. There was a window on the same wall as the head of my bed and just to the right. I always kept the “trap-door” window propped open because the window was screened. At any rate, I was pretty sound asleep when I was awakened at about 11:15 by a sound at my window. In a haze of sleep I thought I heard somebody mumbling my name – and before I was fully awake I muttered something like “Yeah…who is it?” I heard my name again and within a split second I was wide awake and looked up at the window to see a face staring in at me and then a bright flashlight was shown in my eyes. I leapt out of bed and shouted “Hey…get away” – and then at the top of my lungs I screamed “GET THE HELL AWAY!!!” I immediately sent a text message to the cultural trainer in our village asking him to text me if he was awake. Within seconds I got a return message asking “what’s wrong”. I texted back that a man was just looking in my window. Again within seconds, he texted me back explaining that I had just experienced an element of Peace Corps training aimed at examining how I would react if I was “creeped”. I didn’t know whether to be relieved…or “pissed off”. Within minutes my Mama and Papa were at the door of my bungalow asking if I was alright and then explaining that the Peace Corps had given them a heads up that this was going to happen.
For those of you who have never heard of “creeping”, it is apparently a fairly common thing to happen here in Vanuatu – and it can happen to either a man or a woman. Sometimes, it only means that a person is interested in getting to know you – or it could also mean that they want to come in for a toss in the “hay”. It is always a reportable incident both to your village and to the Peace Corps. I’m happy to report that I’ve never been “creeped” – but after that incident, I’m pretty sure I can handle it!! Besides, all the windows in my apartment have bars on the outside, so no creepers are comin’ in after me!
Depending upon where you are based in Vanuatu, there may be any number of safety concerns. Vanuatu lies squarely on top of the Pacific Ring of Fire, and is on the edge of the Pacific tectonic plate – which is being forced up and over the Indo-Australian plate. This action causes frequent earthquakes – not to mention volcanic eruptions! There have been 4 earthquakes just since I arrived in September – none stronger than 6.2 on the Richter scale, but some in the past have actually caused tsunamis. Peace Corps training focused on earthquakes and how to react – and the importance of knowing the high ground or consolidation point designated for each of our villages in the event of a major earthquake that could trigger a tsunami. Vanuatu also has 9 active volcanoes – 7 on land and 2 under the ocean. We spent a good deal of time understanding what to watch for as well as how to react in the event of an earthquake, volcano eruption, tsunami, or cyclone.
Since Vanuatu is an island nation, we were also issued a life preserver that we are required to take with us anytime we are traveling inter-island by boat. One of our hands-on training sessions focused on water safety. The actual training was supposed to teach us how to effectively don our life preservers, jump into the water and maneuver to safety – or provide aid to others in the water. However, on the particular day and time that our training was taking place, the tide was pretty far out. So, instead of doing the typical training, our trainer modified it to be a water relay race of sorts as a competition between Team A and Team B. The idea was to race through the water to the trainer – grab a life preserver – put it over the head of your teammate who had run ahead of you – and then hold on to the life preserver and the teammate to get them safely back to shore. Well, as I was waiting my turn to race through the water, I looked at the water and thought “This really isn’t safe. By the time it’s my turn, the water is going to be so churned up that I won’t be able to see where the coral is – and somebody could get hurt.” Well, guess what?? Along with 6 or 8 other people, I ended up face first in the water with coral cuts on both knees, down my shins – and even on my big toe!! Suffice it to say, this was not my idea of water “safety” training. To add insult to injury, we then had to walk about a mile back to the village where we finally were able to scrub the coral out of our legs and apply some first aid. At any rate, we all survived with no major infections – I have a few more battle scars on my knees, but who’s counting??
When thinking of safety and security during my Peace Corps deployment, I focused primarily on potential bad things like assault, theft or rape. And yes, those are all concerns. In fact, there were hours spent in various role plays having to do with recognizing and avoiding potential situations that could lead to crimes against a Peace Corps volunteer – particularly a female volunteer. We learned all the statistics along with the tactics to use to avoid putting ourselves in harm’s way, and what to do if something actually should occur.
Well…one night during my last week in the village of Ekipe, I was sound asleep in my bungalow. There was a window on the same wall as the head of my bed and just to the right. I always kept the “trap-door” window propped open because the window was screened. At any rate, I was pretty sound asleep when I was awakened at about 11:15 by a sound at my window. In a haze of sleep I thought I heard somebody mumbling my name – and before I was fully awake I muttered something like “Yeah…who is it?” I heard my name again and within a split second I was wide awake and looked up at the window to see a face staring in at me and then a bright flashlight was shown in my eyes. I leapt out of bed and shouted “Hey…get away” – and then at the top of my lungs I screamed “GET THE HELL AWAY!!!” I immediately sent a text message to the cultural trainer in our village asking him to text me if he was awake. Within seconds I got a return message asking “what’s wrong”. I texted back that a man was just looking in my window. Again within seconds, he texted me back explaining that I had just experienced an element of Peace Corps training aimed at examining how I would react if I was “creeped”. I didn’t know whether to be relieved…or “pissed off”. Within minutes my Mama and Papa were at the door of my bungalow asking if I was alright and then explaining that the Peace Corps had given them a heads up that this was going to happen.
For those of you who have never heard of “creeping”, it is apparently a fairly common thing to happen here in Vanuatu – and it can happen to either a man or a woman. Sometimes, it only means that a person is interested in getting to know you – or it could also mean that they want to come in for a toss in the “hay”. It is always a reportable incident both to your village and to the Peace Corps. I’m happy to report that I’ve never been “creeped” – but after that incident, I’m pretty sure I can handle it!! Besides, all the windows in my apartment have bars on the outside, so no creepers are comin’ in after me!
Depending upon where you are based in Vanuatu, there may be any number of safety concerns. Vanuatu lies squarely on top of the Pacific Ring of Fire, and is on the edge of the Pacific tectonic plate – which is being forced up and over the Indo-Australian plate. This action causes frequent earthquakes – not to mention volcanic eruptions! There have been 4 earthquakes just since I arrived in September – none stronger than 6.2 on the Richter scale, but some in the past have actually caused tsunamis. Peace Corps training focused on earthquakes and how to react – and the importance of knowing the high ground or consolidation point designated for each of our villages in the event of a major earthquake that could trigger a tsunami. Vanuatu also has 9 active volcanoes – 7 on land and 2 under the ocean. We spent a good deal of time understanding what to watch for as well as how to react in the event of an earthquake, volcano eruption, tsunami, or cyclone.
Since Vanuatu is an island nation, we were also issued a life preserver that we are required to take with us anytime we are traveling inter-island by boat. One of our hands-on training sessions focused on water safety. The actual training was supposed to teach us how to effectively don our life preservers, jump into the water and maneuver to safety – or provide aid to others in the water. However, on the particular day and time that our training was taking place, the tide was pretty far out. So, instead of doing the typical training, our trainer modified it to be a water relay race of sorts as a competition between Team A and Team B. The idea was to race through the water to the trainer – grab a life preserver – put it over the head of your teammate who had run ahead of you – and then hold on to the life preserver and the teammate to get them safely back to shore. Well, as I was waiting my turn to race through the water, I looked at the water and thought “This really isn’t safe. By the time it’s my turn, the water is going to be so churned up that I won’t be able to see where the coral is – and somebody could get hurt.” Well, guess what?? Along with 6 or 8 other people, I ended up face first in the water with coral cuts on both knees, down my shins – and even on my big toe!! Suffice it to say, this was not my idea of water “safety” training. To add insult to injury, we then had to walk about a mile back to the village where we finally were able to scrub the coral out of our legs and apply some first aid. At any rate, we all survived with no major infections – I have a few more battle scars on my knees, but who’s counting??
Saturday, November 20, 2010
VILLAGE LIFE
Many of you have asked what the day-to-day life has been like in Vanuatu. Well, I can tell you that it is quite different than anything I have ever experienced – some of it I love…while some of it “not so much”! The first hurdle I had to get over was the unconscious expectation that basic, everyday things would probably be similar. Well, in some ways they were – kids tease, fight with each other, and sass their parents just like they do anywhere else. Much to my surprise, everybody seems to have a cell phone! Digicell Vanuatu has done a great job constructing cell phone towers throughout most of Vanuatu’s islands – so now people with no electricity, form of transportation, or even modern health care have a digital phone! Families seem to have the same challenges anywhere – not enough money to get what they would like to get for their children, they must scrape together money for school uniforms and fees, gardens don’t always produce what we expect – and so on. But in so many ways, island life in this part of the world takes some getting used to.
Some of the things I had to learn to ignore were kids with continually running noses – with mother’s flicking off the snot with their fingers and then continuing to grate the vegetable for lap-lap like nothing happened…or kids who butter the bread for everybody at breakfast while licking the knife between every spread…or people who put a chicken wing into their mouths and eat everything (crunching bones and all)! But perhaps the single most challenging thing of all was the lack of privacy in village life. People here simply do not comprehend that anybody would choose to be alone – or ever want to live alone. So, unless your door is closed, there is always somebody around wanting to talk – or kids wanting to play – or even kids stroking your hair and lifting up sections of your hair checking for head llice! Yes – it happens all the time!!!
On the other hand, I must explain that when this family invited me into their home and gave me a “kastom” name, it was not simply fulfilling their obligation as a Peace Corps host family. Oh no – it honest-to-God meant that I am now…and forever will be…a member of their family. No questions asked – I am now a part of their family forever. They would give me the last bit of food that they had on the table – or the last piece of clothing available – or the last cent of money in their pocket if I needed it. The bungalow they built for me will forever be my home with them – and will be the home of anybody in my family from America who may come to visit. I’m pretty sure that the clothes I brought with me equate to more than the entire family has together. Yet, they gave me two island dresses upon my arrival – and towards the end of my stay with them Mama presented me with her favorite dress – one from New Caledonia. This was a prized possession – the only one like it in the village. Even though it is a simple cotton dress, I will forever treasure it.
The children in my village have no toys – yet I’ve never heard them say they were bored. They run, play, laugh – and always find some way to have fun. Baby Jerry plays with pieces of coral...digs in the dirt with a spoon, and entertains himself for hours with an empty peanut butter jar and lid. Shockingly, nobody seems to worry about the fact that he also plays with a butcher knife too!
There are no cars in the village – no television sets – no 401Ks – yet, they are joyous, fulfilled people. They honestly have everything they need to raise their families – eat organic food – and look to the future as a daily gift from God. It is just amazing!
Does that mean that I loved every minute of village life? Noooo – but I did gain a certain respect for their culture and values. I remember thinking that I didn’t believe my feet and toenails would ever be clean again, but after some soaking in a bucket with laundry detergent and a brush they were good enough!
Some of the things I had to learn to ignore were kids with continually running noses – with mother’s flicking off the snot with their fingers and then continuing to grate the vegetable for lap-lap like nothing happened…or kids who butter the bread for everybody at breakfast while licking the knife between every spread…or people who put a chicken wing into their mouths and eat everything (crunching bones and all)! But perhaps the single most challenging thing of all was the lack of privacy in village life. People here simply do not comprehend that anybody would choose to be alone – or ever want to live alone. So, unless your door is closed, there is always somebody around wanting to talk – or kids wanting to play – or even kids stroking your hair and lifting up sections of your hair checking for head llice! Yes – it happens all the time!!!
On the other hand, I must explain that when this family invited me into their home and gave me a “kastom” name, it was not simply fulfilling their obligation as a Peace Corps host family. Oh no – it honest-to-God meant that I am now…and forever will be…a member of their family. No questions asked – I am now a part of their family forever. They would give me the last bit of food that they had on the table – or the last piece of clothing available – or the last cent of money in their pocket if I needed it. The bungalow they built for me will forever be my home with them – and will be the home of anybody in my family from America who may come to visit. I’m pretty sure that the clothes I brought with me equate to more than the entire family has together. Yet, they gave me two island dresses upon my arrival – and towards the end of my stay with them Mama presented me with her favorite dress – one from New Caledonia. This was a prized possession – the only one like it in the village. Even though it is a simple cotton dress, I will forever treasure it.
The children in my village have no toys – yet I’ve never heard them say they were bored. They run, play, laugh – and always find some way to have fun. Baby Jerry plays with pieces of coral...digs in the dirt with a spoon, and entertains himself for hours with an empty peanut butter jar and lid. Shockingly, nobody seems to worry about the fact that he also plays with a butcher knife too!
There are no cars in the village – no television sets – no 401Ks – yet, they are joyous, fulfilled people. They honestly have everything they need to raise their families – eat organic food – and look to the future as a daily gift from God. It is just amazing!
Does that mean that I loved every minute of village life? Noooo – but I did gain a certain respect for their culture and values. I remember thinking that I didn’t believe my feet and toenails would ever be clean again, but after some soaking in a bucket with laundry detergent and a brush they were good enough!
QUIET SUNDAYS
Each weekend, we trainees had activities designed to help us get to know our families better and to more fully integrate with the village, its culture and way of life. The first weekend we were assigned the task of getting to know the family, attending church, and talking to them about their ancestry and then actually drawing a family tree – all in Bislama mind you!! So, even though I’ve been working on family trees for 25+ years, this was definitely going to be a challenge!
Ekipe is a fairly small village comprised of 75 households with ~350 people. My immediate family consisted of Mama Marie and Papa Paul – Mama Marie is younger than my oldest son, and Papa Paul is just 49 – so believe me by village standards, I am wan oldfala wuman (one old woman)!! Living at home with Mama and Papa is Papa’s father, Abu (Vanuatu designation for grandfather), 3 daughters: Anita (12), Harriet (7), and Sandrine (5); one baby son: Jerry (15 months), and two sons living nearby with an Uncle: Sethstone (18), and Robert (21). By the time I was finished preparing the family tree, it was clear that everybody in the village is related in some way. With the exception of just a few, all people in Ekipe were originally from the island of Tongoriki. So, most people in Ekipe speak Bislama, English, French, and a language indigenous to Tongoriki. In fact, throughout Vanuatu there are more than 120 local languages. So, at first glance the people may look and seem primitive and untrained, the fact that they are fluent in 4 languages and live an entirely self-sufficient life is truly a humbling experience. I suddenly felt pretty inadequate.
My first Sunday, the family was up by 5 am to start the morning fire. Nearly every breakfast was quite simple – either bread spread with peanut butter and margarine or breakfast crackers along with sweetened orange-leaf tea (hot water steeped with orange leaves from a nearby tree). That tea is absolutely delicious. But on Sunday morning, the family was busy preparing their big mid-day meal early in the morning so that it could be eaten immediately following church. Church began anywhere from 9-9:30 am. My Papa was the Pastor of the CMC church – an old, dilapidated open-air building just at the end of the path leading to our house. Services opened with a hearty welcome from Papa followed by beautiful singing featuring his baritone voice and complimented by Mama’s perfect harmony. He also played the guitar and everybody in the church would join in singing along. The congregation was pretty small – it varied between 8-15 people. Ekipe had several churches – Seventh Day Adventist, Presbyterian, and Church of the Covenant. On my first Sunday at church, Papa welcomed me and another trainee by calling us to the front of the church and draping a wide swath of kaliko (calico) around us.
After church, we came home and sat under the mango tree to cool off a bit and just chatted – as much as I could in pretty basic Bislama and lots of English scattered through. Dinner was served and then everybody took a nap for the hot part of the afternoon. The rest of Sunday is pretty much family time – people would stroll around to visit – kids would play endless games like “patty-cake” or other rhyming games – and families would generally just hang out. Dinner was usually cold leftovers from lunch along with some bread.
After dinner on my first Sunday there, Mama looked at me and said “You go swim now?”. Since it was early evening, I really didn’t want to head to the ocean, so I replied “No, I don’t think so” – to which she followed up with…”You swim later??” – to which I replied, “Oh maybe tomorrow or another day.” There was a fairly awkward period of silence when finally the kids understood what was happening. They started laughing and said “Leiso…you swim there” and pointed at the shower. Their word for shower … or bath…is “swim”!! So, I started laughing and said “Yes, bae mi go swim naoia! (Yes, I’ll go swim now)!” I think they were pretty relieved to know that I wasn’t going to be the dirtiest, smelliest white woman they had ever met!
Ekipe is a fairly small village comprised of 75 households with ~350 people. My immediate family consisted of Mama Marie and Papa Paul – Mama Marie is younger than my oldest son, and Papa Paul is just 49 – so believe me by village standards, I am wan oldfala wuman (one old woman)!! Living at home with Mama and Papa is Papa’s father, Abu (Vanuatu designation for grandfather), 3 daughters: Anita (12), Harriet (7), and Sandrine (5); one baby son: Jerry (15 months), and two sons living nearby with an Uncle: Sethstone (18), and Robert (21). By the time I was finished preparing the family tree, it was clear that everybody in the village is related in some way. With the exception of just a few, all people in Ekipe were originally from the island of Tongoriki. So, most people in Ekipe speak Bislama, English, French, and a language indigenous to Tongoriki. In fact, throughout Vanuatu there are more than 120 local languages. So, at first glance the people may look and seem primitive and untrained, the fact that they are fluent in 4 languages and live an entirely self-sufficient life is truly a humbling experience. I suddenly felt pretty inadequate.
My first Sunday, the family was up by 5 am to start the morning fire. Nearly every breakfast was quite simple – either bread spread with peanut butter and margarine or breakfast crackers along with sweetened orange-leaf tea (hot water steeped with orange leaves from a nearby tree). That tea is absolutely delicious. But on Sunday morning, the family was busy preparing their big mid-day meal early in the morning so that it could be eaten immediately following church. Church began anywhere from 9-9:30 am. My Papa was the Pastor of the CMC church – an old, dilapidated open-air building just at the end of the path leading to our house. Services opened with a hearty welcome from Papa followed by beautiful singing featuring his baritone voice and complimented by Mama’s perfect harmony. He also played the guitar and everybody in the church would join in singing along. The congregation was pretty small – it varied between 8-15 people. Ekipe had several churches – Seventh Day Adventist, Presbyterian, and Church of the Covenant. On my first Sunday at church, Papa welcomed me and another trainee by calling us to the front of the church and draping a wide swath of kaliko (calico) around us.
After church, we came home and sat under the mango tree to cool off a bit and just chatted – as much as I could in pretty basic Bislama and lots of English scattered through. Dinner was served and then everybody took a nap for the hot part of the afternoon. The rest of Sunday is pretty much family time – people would stroll around to visit – kids would play endless games like “patty-cake” or other rhyming games – and families would generally just hang out. Dinner was usually cold leftovers from lunch along with some bread.
After dinner on my first Sunday there, Mama looked at me and said “You go swim now?”. Since it was early evening, I really didn’t want to head to the ocean, so I replied “No, I don’t think so” – to which she followed up with…”You swim later??” – to which I replied, “Oh maybe tomorrow or another day.” There was a fairly awkward period of silence when finally the kids understood what was happening. They started laughing and said “Leiso…you swim there” and pointed at the shower. Their word for shower … or bath…is “swim”!! So, I started laughing and said “Yes, bae mi go swim naoia! (Yes, I’ll go swim now)!” I think they were pretty relieved to know that I wasn’t going to be the dirtiest, smelliest white woman they had ever met!
OFF TO OUR VILLAGES...THE BEGINNING!
Friday morning, September 17th, couldn’t come soon enough! We are known as Group 23 – since we’re the 23rd set of trainees to hit the shores of Vanuatu – and since Group 23 is so large, we are divided up into several villages about an hour’s drive north of Port Vila for the remainder of our pre-service training (or PST in Peace Corps lingo). I’m headed for the lovely village of Ekipe – while others will be headed for Epau, Takara A, Takara B, or Paunangisu. Although we’ll be attending classes as within each of our respective villages, each Friday all of Group 23 will get together for a “This Was the Week That Was” and any debriefing info that PC has for us. So, we gave our “buds” a big hug and headed off to the north!
Upon our arrival at Ekipe, we got out of the van, pulled on our backpacks and then noticed a group of women in island dresses forming an entry way with palm leaves for all of us to walk through for the big welcome into the community center…or nakamael. When we entered the nakamael, all our host families were waiting – and chairs were lined up at the front of the room each labeled with a trainee’s name. Once we were all assembled, one of the 7 village chiefs welcomed us – and the festivities began! The air was so full of excitement – and every person in the village had the broadest, most infectious smile that I’ve ever seen. One darling toddler was dancing around the room and smiling at us with big sparkling eyes – while some of the other children were clearly unsure about all the white people at the front of the room and were peering out from behind their Papa’s back or peeking through their Mama’s arm as she held them tightly.
After 5 days of Bislama training, we had learned how to introduce ourselves along with a few other key phrases and felt pretty confident that we were ready for the village life. Well, that confidence drained out in about 2 minutes. The host “Papa” opened with a prayer and then began talking so fast that I thought he was actually an auctioneer who had shown up at the wrong place on the wrong day! As it turned out, the host Papa was Papa blong mi (my Papa) – and I suddenly realized that I couldn’t understand one damned thing he was saying. But like every other trainee, I kept the pasted-on smile and just nodded and laughed when everybody else did. Then each volunteer was called out individually – presented with a kastom (local ) name and was introduced to his or her host family – who then pulled an island shirt or dress over the volunteer’s head. We were already hot and overheated, but by the time the opening ceremonies were finished and we all had on 2 sets of clothes, I think we were bordering on heat stroke. But the fun had just begun – it was time to eat! Ahh – I saw some luscious-looking papaya (popo) and fresh, juicy grapefruit (pamplemousse) and some beautiful bananas (banana) – but what I didn’t realize is that the main dishes were steamed rice (which was fine) – topped with island cabbage (aelan kabis) soup – followed by several different kinds of yes, you guessed it – THE DREADED LAP-LAP!!
Finally, it was time to head to our respective homes for the next 8 weeks. Each of us waved goodbye to our colleagues, and headed off in various directions down a jungle path. Papa blong mi, Mama, and all the kids trudged along – with some help from the village boys to hoist my 2 large duffle bags, small suitcase, and Peace Corps-issued things: regulation 2” single-sized foam mattress, mosquito net, pillow, sheets, bucket (for whatever we need it for), medical kits, books, and assorted stuff. When we arrived at my host family’s home, I couldn’t believe my eyes. They had built me a small wooden bungalow with thatched (made of pandanu leaves) roof, the inside walls were covered with purple-print fabric (kaliko), and the floor was coral with locally-woven mats as a floor covering. My little bungalow consisted of 2 rooms – a small entry room with table and stool for studying, and a bedroom with a raised wooden platform bed just waiting for the mattress and mosquito net, and a small bookshelf. One of the kids had made a lovely bouquet of flowers and placed it on a little shelf just above my study table – fresh ginger flowers and banana leaves beautifully arranged in an empty peanut butter jar. Just seeing the smile on the kids’ faces as they showed me the flowers made it the most beautiful flower arrangement I’ve ever received.
Mama blong mi also had purchased a second island dress for me – which was ready and hanging inside my bungalow. Just a little aside here – an island dress is kind of like a stylized muumuu dress. It is made of bright, tropical-print kaliko, always has a full, gathered skirt – quite shapeless actually, with little points (called wings) of kaliko sewn around the waistband. These were introduced by the early missionaries as a modest covering for the local island women. They’re big, boxy, and ensure that no “curves” or other feminine features can be detected! One of the things that was stressed in our pre-packing lists and instructions was that pants or shorts were inappropriate for women in villages – you may get away with it in Port Vila, but skirts or dresses should be fairly loose and go to at least mid-calf -- or island dresses were the accepted dress code for the villages.
So, I took some time to unpack and get my little bungalow all situated and then rejoined the family outside for a tour of their “homestead”. They were so excited to show me their brand new outdoor dining area – a rough-hewn picnic table and bench built inside an open-aired thatched roof enclosure with a coral floor. There were some screens on two sides of the seating area – but I noticed two very large, gaping holes in the screen. One of the kids quickly told me “Wan bigfala rot hemi kakae scrin” (a big rat “ate” the screen)! (I was suddenly grateful that my bed was raised off the ground by a few feet.) I was also shown their “cook house” – a rectangular area with walls on one large side and one small side with a few shelves to store fresh food. All cooking was done within this roughly-constructed “house” over an open fire in the dirt. They also showed me the toilet and shower – yes, I did say shower! I was one of the very lucky few PC trainees in our village to have an actual shower. OK, it was cold river water piped from the hills – but nonetheless, it was a shower! We also had a toilet next to the shower – called a water-sealed toilet. It looked like a regular “john” – but there was a faucet inside the outhouse – once you were “finished” you filled the bucket with water and poured it into the bowl to flush the toilet. Believe me, it was absolutely wonderful to have a “flushable” toilet – some people did not have that luxury! There was even a small basin – with soap and a towel - balanced inside a tire mounted on a tree trunk outside the toilet as a hand-washing station. Papa Paul was also the village health care worker, so he was a believer in hand-washing. The running water in the village was only for washing clothes, showering, or toilet flushing – drinking water was obtained from a nearby well. Although a couple of homes in the village had a small solar panel, nearly everybody else used kerosene lanterns for light. No electricity is available yet in these northern villages.
By the time supper was finished (yep, you guessed it – more lap-lap left over from lunch), I had run through every single thing I knew or could understand in Bislama and was beginning to look and act like a mime – so by the time it was dark around 7 pm, I turned in for my first night’s sleep in Ekipe. Just before hopping into my little rustic bed, I stepped back outside my bungalow with water bottle in hand to brush my teeth. I thought I knew what “dark” was – but boy was I wrong. With no light to “pollute” the sky, the stars were simply phenomenal – but I actually had to go back into my bungalow for my small PC-issued solar lantern to be able to see where to walk to brush my teeth and spit! I lingered outside for a few moments just to drink in the darkness, the sounds of the palm trees blowing, and the sound of the ocean (about a 5-minute walk away). I have to say that I felt pretty small and insignificant – and very far from home.
So, I settled in for a good night’s rest. I awoke at about 5:30 am to hear the sounds of the fire being started and the kids outside playing. As extroverted as I may seem, the opposite is often quite true. I suddenly got this feeling in the pit of my stomach – and the first thought I had was “God, don’t make me go outside this bungalow today!” So, I just lay quietly within my mosquito-netted not-so-quite Westin Heavenly Bed trying to decide what to do next. Within 30 minutes or so, I noticed some loud whispers outside my bungalow…”Leiso…Leiso”. I thought the kids were playing some game…but then a tap came on my door with a much more insistent “LEISOOOO”! OMG – that’s now my name – I’m no longer Carla…I’m now LEISO!! I replied with a fairly anemic-sounding…”Yesss??” – which was followed by “Leiso…yumi kaekae naoia” (Leiso…we eat now). With that I got out of bed, pulled on some clothes and went out for the first of many breakfasts…as Leiso!
Upon our arrival at Ekipe, we got out of the van, pulled on our backpacks and then noticed a group of women in island dresses forming an entry way with palm leaves for all of us to walk through for the big welcome into the community center…or nakamael. When we entered the nakamael, all our host families were waiting – and chairs were lined up at the front of the room each labeled with a trainee’s name. Once we were all assembled, one of the 7 village chiefs welcomed us – and the festivities began! The air was so full of excitement – and every person in the village had the broadest, most infectious smile that I’ve ever seen. One darling toddler was dancing around the room and smiling at us with big sparkling eyes – while some of the other children were clearly unsure about all the white people at the front of the room and were peering out from behind their Papa’s back or peeking through their Mama’s arm as she held them tightly.
After 5 days of Bislama training, we had learned how to introduce ourselves along with a few other key phrases and felt pretty confident that we were ready for the village life. Well, that confidence drained out in about 2 minutes. The host “Papa” opened with a prayer and then began talking so fast that I thought he was actually an auctioneer who had shown up at the wrong place on the wrong day! As it turned out, the host Papa was Papa blong mi (my Papa) – and I suddenly realized that I couldn’t understand one damned thing he was saying. But like every other trainee, I kept the pasted-on smile and just nodded and laughed when everybody else did. Then each volunteer was called out individually – presented with a kastom (local ) name and was introduced to his or her host family – who then pulled an island shirt or dress over the volunteer’s head. We were already hot and overheated, but by the time the opening ceremonies were finished and we all had on 2 sets of clothes, I think we were bordering on heat stroke. But the fun had just begun – it was time to eat! Ahh – I saw some luscious-looking papaya (popo) and fresh, juicy grapefruit (pamplemousse) and some beautiful bananas (banana) – but what I didn’t realize is that the main dishes were steamed rice (which was fine) – topped with island cabbage (aelan kabis) soup – followed by several different kinds of yes, you guessed it – THE DREADED LAP-LAP!!
Finally, it was time to head to our respective homes for the next 8 weeks. Each of us waved goodbye to our colleagues, and headed off in various directions down a jungle path. Papa blong mi, Mama, and all the kids trudged along – with some help from the village boys to hoist my 2 large duffle bags, small suitcase, and Peace Corps-issued things: regulation 2” single-sized foam mattress, mosquito net, pillow, sheets, bucket (for whatever we need it for), medical kits, books, and assorted stuff. When we arrived at my host family’s home, I couldn’t believe my eyes. They had built me a small wooden bungalow with thatched (made of pandanu leaves) roof, the inside walls were covered with purple-print fabric (kaliko), and the floor was coral with locally-woven mats as a floor covering. My little bungalow consisted of 2 rooms – a small entry room with table and stool for studying, and a bedroom with a raised wooden platform bed just waiting for the mattress and mosquito net, and a small bookshelf. One of the kids had made a lovely bouquet of flowers and placed it on a little shelf just above my study table – fresh ginger flowers and banana leaves beautifully arranged in an empty peanut butter jar. Just seeing the smile on the kids’ faces as they showed me the flowers made it the most beautiful flower arrangement I’ve ever received.
Mama blong mi also had purchased a second island dress for me – which was ready and hanging inside my bungalow. Just a little aside here – an island dress is kind of like a stylized muumuu dress. It is made of bright, tropical-print kaliko, always has a full, gathered skirt – quite shapeless actually, with little points (called wings) of kaliko sewn around the waistband. These were introduced by the early missionaries as a modest covering for the local island women. They’re big, boxy, and ensure that no “curves” or other feminine features can be detected! One of the things that was stressed in our pre-packing lists and instructions was that pants or shorts were inappropriate for women in villages – you may get away with it in Port Vila, but skirts or dresses should be fairly loose and go to at least mid-calf -- or island dresses were the accepted dress code for the villages.
So, I took some time to unpack and get my little bungalow all situated and then rejoined the family outside for a tour of their “homestead”. They were so excited to show me their brand new outdoor dining area – a rough-hewn picnic table and bench built inside an open-aired thatched roof enclosure with a coral floor. There were some screens on two sides of the seating area – but I noticed two very large, gaping holes in the screen. One of the kids quickly told me “Wan bigfala rot hemi kakae scrin” (a big rat “ate” the screen)! (I was suddenly grateful that my bed was raised off the ground by a few feet.) I was also shown their “cook house” – a rectangular area with walls on one large side and one small side with a few shelves to store fresh food. All cooking was done within this roughly-constructed “house” over an open fire in the dirt. They also showed me the toilet and shower – yes, I did say shower! I was one of the very lucky few PC trainees in our village to have an actual shower. OK, it was cold river water piped from the hills – but nonetheless, it was a shower! We also had a toilet next to the shower – called a water-sealed toilet. It looked like a regular “john” – but there was a faucet inside the outhouse – once you were “finished” you filled the bucket with water and poured it into the bowl to flush the toilet. Believe me, it was absolutely wonderful to have a “flushable” toilet – some people did not have that luxury! There was even a small basin – with soap and a towel - balanced inside a tire mounted on a tree trunk outside the toilet as a hand-washing station. Papa Paul was also the village health care worker, so he was a believer in hand-washing. The running water in the village was only for washing clothes, showering, or toilet flushing – drinking water was obtained from a nearby well. Although a couple of homes in the village had a small solar panel, nearly everybody else used kerosene lanterns for light. No electricity is available yet in these northern villages.
By the time supper was finished (yep, you guessed it – more lap-lap left over from lunch), I had run through every single thing I knew or could understand in Bislama and was beginning to look and act like a mime – so by the time it was dark around 7 pm, I turned in for my first night’s sleep in Ekipe. Just before hopping into my little rustic bed, I stepped back outside my bungalow with water bottle in hand to brush my teeth. I thought I knew what “dark” was – but boy was I wrong. With no light to “pollute” the sky, the stars were simply phenomenal – but I actually had to go back into my bungalow for my small PC-issued solar lantern to be able to see where to walk to brush my teeth and spit! I lingered outside for a few moments just to drink in the darkness, the sounds of the palm trees blowing, and the sound of the ocean (about a 5-minute walk away). I have to say that I felt pretty small and insignificant – and very far from home.
So, I settled in for a good night’s rest. I awoke at about 5:30 am to hear the sounds of the fire being started and the kids outside playing. As extroverted as I may seem, the opposite is often quite true. I suddenly got this feeling in the pit of my stomach – and the first thought I had was “God, don’t make me go outside this bungalow today!” So, I just lay quietly within my mosquito-netted not-so-quite Westin Heavenly Bed trying to decide what to do next. Within 30 minutes or so, I noticed some loud whispers outside my bungalow…”Leiso…Leiso”. I thought the kids were playing some game…but then a tap came on my door with a much more insistent “LEISOOOO”! OMG – that’s now my name – I’m no longer Carla…I’m now LEISO!! I replied with a fairly anemic-sounding…”Yesss??” – which was followed by “Leiso…yumi kaekae naoia” (Leiso…we eat now). With that I got out of bed, pulled on some clothes and went out for the first of many breakfasts…as Leiso!
WHERE THE HECK IS PANGO??
Bauer Field International Airport in Port Vila, Vanuatu sounds like a big place, huh – well, let’s just say that there are no jet ways…or air conditioned lobbies here! After 25 years of visiting the South Pacific, this is the first time where I’m told to complete the customs form as a “resident” and cue up in the “resident” line for a passport check. I think it began to dawn on all of us that we’re here to stay…no turning back now!! Since nearly everybody brought spices and teas, all of us had to endure a bag check through Customs. Everybody’s spices were confiscated – but after 10 minutes of searching and pulling things out of my 2 duffel bags, the customs agent finally gave up with a smile and said “I OK – you mo spice blong you go naoia! (It’s OK - You and your spices can now go!)
With that we headed outside to a huge welcome from the Vanuatu PC staff and volunteers. And what a welcome it was – hugs, flower leis, sarongs for everybody, and fresh coconut juice in the shell. I’ve gotta tell you that it was a teary, emotional moment for many of us. After such a long wait, we were HERE…ACTUALLY HERE!! It was a beautiful sunny, hot Sunday morning in Vanuatu – yes Sunday the 12th. Since we had crossed the International Date Line, we had missed Saturday! We chatted with everybody, had a group photo shot, and then boarded vans for a quick drive-through tour of Port Vila and headed for the IDS Camp in Pango…wherever the heck that is! Pango, as it turns out is a small village on the outskirts of Port Vila – and the Peace Corps had arranged for “lodging” at the IDS Bible Camp for our first 5 days in Vanuatu. The camp was very close to the ocean on a wide expanse of green with lots of towering palm trees.
Reality about our PC service hit us pretty quickly when we realized that the women were being housed in tiny bungalows consisting of an entry room and 2 other small rooms. Two people slept in beds in the entry room, while 4 of us shared each of the small rooms in mosquito-shrouded bunk beds. The men we were housed in an Army barracks-type building in bunk beds. We thought we were roughing it when we realized there was no hot water – just cold showers (3 for the women) – and electricity for just a few hours in the evening. Without realizing it, we were being “eased in” to the Vanuatu lifestyle.
We spent the next 5 days at Pango with classes from 8:30 – 4:30 each day. Bislama language class started, and it dawned on me that I was a total idiot when it came to learning a foreign language. Fortunately, many of us felt the same way, so at least we had somebody to commiserate with! Much of the classwork focused on Safety and Security – we learned how to discourage the custom of “creeping” – which means that we could be awakened at night by a local man appearing at our window – or calling to us from outside our house.
We also started learning about all the medical things that we need to understand – things like choosing a malaria-prevention medication, starting our inoculations against things like typhoid, hepatitis A&B and Gawd knows what else – not to mention the likelihood that we will all have worms at some point in our service…and probably even head lice!! Oh yes, we were also issued two extensive PC-issued medical kits that contained just about everything a small dispensary in the states would have – including deworming pills – as well as a malaria test kit with which to test ourselves for malaria at the first signs of illness – complete with sharps and a glass slide on which to smear one’s blood. Each of us had to do the test in class…complete with piercing our finger and spreading the blood onto the slide. Thankfully, none of us tested positive for malaria at this point – although the nurse said it was likely that some of us already had the malaria “bug” already in our liver – but that the anti-malarial medication would keep it from manifesting itself into full-blown malaria. It was at this point when I began to wonder just whose bright idea this was for me to join the Peace Corps anyway??? We also learned a good bit about each other as part of our frank and candid lessons and discussions related to sexual health and STDs – and how to avoid any problems during our 27-month stay in this island paradise.
One of the good things about the training was that each of us got a short medical check while we were being given our vaccinations. The doc listened to my cough – and finally diagnosed me correctly with an ear infection in both ears as well as a sinus infection – and promptly started me on a 10-day routine of amoxicillin. I started feeling … and sounding… better within a few days, so my fears of being sent home with whooping cough were totally unfounded!
Reality also hit me in the face late one afternoon when I headed into the shower only to be greeted by a “bigfala spyder” (huge spider) on the wall. And I do mean BIGFALA – it’s body was about the size of a half-dollar and it’s leg span was as big as my hand span. After running out of the building fully terrorized I realized that there was nobody there to run in and kill the spider for me – and at last I went back in and took my shower. Bigfala spider was still on the wall after I left – and I was none the worse for the terror!
The other big adjustment at Pango was the food! Local “Mamas” came to IDS each day to prepare breakfast, lunch, and supper for us. Breakfast usually consisted of tea or hot chocolate with either bread or breakfast crackers – and sometimes some fresh fruit. Lunch and dinner usually consisted of steamed rice, some kind of “soup” to put on the rice – and usually some form of “lap-lap”. No that wasn’t a typo…it was lap-lap – a local dish made of grated manioc (cassava) mixed with water, and then steamed inside a banana leaf. There was no seasoning in it – and I’m here to tell you that it tasted and chewed kind of like a piece of soft rubber. Now anybody who knows me knows that I am pretty adventurous when it comes to food – but I’m not sure this was food!! At any rate, we all smiled, ate it, and swallowed! However, we were all counting the days until we got to our village where we would get “real” food.
During our 5-day stop-over at Pango, Eddie Stice (the PC Country Director) and his wife had all of us to their home one evening for a wonderful dinner – topped off with a kava ceremony. Now kava is a uniquely-South Pacific beverage. It is made from the ground…or chewed-up…root of the kava plant – which is then mixed with water and served. I’ve had kava several other times in the islands, so I opted not to indulge this evening. But, stay tuned – I’m sure there will be more about kava later!
After a wonderful evening, it was back to Pango. All of us were counting the days until we left Pango for our respective villages.
With that we headed outside to a huge welcome from the Vanuatu PC staff and volunteers. And what a welcome it was – hugs, flower leis, sarongs for everybody, and fresh coconut juice in the shell. I’ve gotta tell you that it was a teary, emotional moment for many of us. After such a long wait, we were HERE…ACTUALLY HERE!! It was a beautiful sunny, hot Sunday morning in Vanuatu – yes Sunday the 12th. Since we had crossed the International Date Line, we had missed Saturday! We chatted with everybody, had a group photo shot, and then boarded vans for a quick drive-through tour of Port Vila and headed for the IDS Camp in Pango…wherever the heck that is! Pango, as it turns out is a small village on the outskirts of Port Vila – and the Peace Corps had arranged for “lodging” at the IDS Bible Camp for our first 5 days in Vanuatu. The camp was very close to the ocean on a wide expanse of green with lots of towering palm trees.
Reality about our PC service hit us pretty quickly when we realized that the women were being housed in tiny bungalows consisting of an entry room and 2 other small rooms. Two people slept in beds in the entry room, while 4 of us shared each of the small rooms in mosquito-shrouded bunk beds. The men we were housed in an Army barracks-type building in bunk beds. We thought we were roughing it when we realized there was no hot water – just cold showers (3 for the women) – and electricity for just a few hours in the evening. Without realizing it, we were being “eased in” to the Vanuatu lifestyle.
We spent the next 5 days at Pango with classes from 8:30 – 4:30 each day. Bislama language class started, and it dawned on me that I was a total idiot when it came to learning a foreign language. Fortunately, many of us felt the same way, so at least we had somebody to commiserate with! Much of the classwork focused on Safety and Security – we learned how to discourage the custom of “creeping” – which means that we could be awakened at night by a local man appearing at our window – or calling to us from outside our house.
We also started learning about all the medical things that we need to understand – things like choosing a malaria-prevention medication, starting our inoculations against things like typhoid, hepatitis A&B and Gawd knows what else – not to mention the likelihood that we will all have worms at some point in our service…and probably even head lice!! Oh yes, we were also issued two extensive PC-issued medical kits that contained just about everything a small dispensary in the states would have – including deworming pills – as well as a malaria test kit with which to test ourselves for malaria at the first signs of illness – complete with sharps and a glass slide on which to smear one’s blood. Each of us had to do the test in class…complete with piercing our finger and spreading the blood onto the slide. Thankfully, none of us tested positive for malaria at this point – although the nurse said it was likely that some of us already had the malaria “bug” already in our liver – but that the anti-malarial medication would keep it from manifesting itself into full-blown malaria. It was at this point when I began to wonder just whose bright idea this was for me to join the Peace Corps anyway??? We also learned a good bit about each other as part of our frank and candid lessons and discussions related to sexual health and STDs – and how to avoid any problems during our 27-month stay in this island paradise.
One of the good things about the training was that each of us got a short medical check while we were being given our vaccinations. The doc listened to my cough – and finally diagnosed me correctly with an ear infection in both ears as well as a sinus infection – and promptly started me on a 10-day routine of amoxicillin. I started feeling … and sounding… better within a few days, so my fears of being sent home with whooping cough were totally unfounded!
Reality also hit me in the face late one afternoon when I headed into the shower only to be greeted by a “bigfala spyder” (huge spider) on the wall. And I do mean BIGFALA – it’s body was about the size of a half-dollar and it’s leg span was as big as my hand span. After running out of the building fully terrorized I realized that there was nobody there to run in and kill the spider for me – and at last I went back in and took my shower. Bigfala spider was still on the wall after I left – and I was none the worse for the terror!
The other big adjustment at Pango was the food! Local “Mamas” came to IDS each day to prepare breakfast, lunch, and supper for us. Breakfast usually consisted of tea or hot chocolate with either bread or breakfast crackers – and sometimes some fresh fruit. Lunch and dinner usually consisted of steamed rice, some kind of “soup” to put on the rice – and usually some form of “lap-lap”. No that wasn’t a typo…it was lap-lap – a local dish made of grated manioc (cassava) mixed with water, and then steamed inside a banana leaf. There was no seasoning in it – and I’m here to tell you that it tasted and chewed kind of like a piece of soft rubber. Now anybody who knows me knows that I am pretty adventurous when it comes to food – but I’m not sure this was food!! At any rate, we all smiled, ate it, and swallowed! However, we were all counting the days until we got to our village where we would get “real” food.
During our 5-day stop-over at Pango, Eddie Stice (the PC Country Director) and his wife had all of us to their home one evening for a wonderful dinner – topped off with a kava ceremony. Now kava is a uniquely-South Pacific beverage. It is made from the ground…or chewed-up…root of the kava plant – which is then mixed with water and served. I’ve had kava several other times in the islands, so I opted not to indulge this evening. But, stay tuned – I’m sure there will be more about kava later!
After a wonderful evening, it was back to Pango. All of us were counting the days until we left Pango for our respective villages.
SEPTEMBER 9-10, 2010 - STAGING...And Away We Go!
My last week in Denver was busy with final preparations for the big day. I packed and repacked my bags and believe it or not I got everything that I think I’ll need for the next two years into two duffel bags that will be checked, one small carry-on, and my backpack. Not only that, but it also met the weight limitations! Lucy, my kitty, is starting to settle in with Sue and Brian’s menagerie – although there have been a few turf battles between her and Phoebe!
The biggest worry that I’ve had over the last several weeks is the fact that I haven’t been able to get rid of an upper respiratory infection – despite the fact that I’ve been to the doctor 3 times, finished 3 different types of prescriptions, and downed countless shots of vodka – per my brother Kelly’s advice. Although the vodka hasn’t cured the cough – I haven’t minded it as much!! But seriously, I am worried that the Peace Corps personnel at the “Staging” event in Los Angeles may not allow me to board the plane because I honestly sound like somebody who has whooping cough! I’m taking lots of Hall’s Mentholyptus and hoping for the best!
Well, September 9th dawned, the furniture and car is in storage, and my goodbyes have been said – so it’s off to Los Angeles to meet everybody else heading to Vanuatu. As I boarded the hotel van at Los Angeles International Airport, I thought I spotted two other people who were volunteers – and later it was confirmed when I saw them in line at the Peace Corps registration desk.
The only thing scheduled after our arrival on Thursday, the 9th, was final completion of the mountain of forms that we’re required to bring with us and get them checked off by the 3 Peace Corps trainers and then get acquainted with everybody else in the group. We have 41 volunteers heading to Vanuatu – with a wide range of backgrounds…and ages. I might add that I am not the oldest person in the group. In fact, there are 8 of us who fall within the 50+ category of recruits, so I’m relieved to know that I’m likely not the only “Grandma” in the group. We pretty much take over the bar and grill at the hotel and spend a couple of hours over pizza and beer to get acquainted. I am absolutely amazed at the background of some of these “kids”. Some of them have already worked or volunteered in very remote locales throughout the world – Africa, South America, Mexico, Europe. It really seems to be an amazing group of people.
Friday, September 10th, we all meet in the conference room to get started at 8:30. Today is primarily spent on various break-out sessions and ice-breakers to get acquainted, and in turn learn about the history of the Peace Corps, its objectives, and its expectations of us as volunteers. As we wrap up for the day, the excitement in the room is palpable – all of us are “chomping at the bit” to head out. Thankfully the staff didn’t tell me that I had to go home because of my cough, so I was ready to go!
At last the buses pull up, and we begin to load the literal mountains of luggage. Our itinerary says that we are flying on a United flight operated by Air New Zealand – so the buses pull up in front of the United terminal at Los Angeles International. The lead person on our bus asks the bus driver if this is in fact the correct place to be, since it looks like we might need to be at the Air New Zealand terminal. He assures everybody that we are in the right place and begins unloading all the bags. So, in we trek – and line up for check-in. Well, yes – you’ve guessed it – we were in the wrong terminal. By now the buses are nowhere in site – and we’re left with figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B. If you have never traveled through Los Angeles International, let me just say that it is pretty big and it’s not particularly easy to get from one end to the other with so many bags. There was no way that we could possibly load all the bags onto the airport bus that came by, so we found carts and walked all the way around the terminal grounds – cutting through parking lots and Lord knows what else to finally arrive at the Air New Zealand counter. It took about 2 hours for everybody to get checked in – and after a few more beers and some snacks at one of the restaurants we were at last ready to board!
Thirteen hours later, we arrive at Auckland International Airport in the wee morning hours on Sunday, September 12th – because we crossed the International Date Line, Saturday, the 11th, was nowhere to be found! After a layover of a few hours, at last we boarded the plane for the 3-hour flight to Port Vila, Vanuatu.
I was listening to music on the plane’s headphones, and just as the first of Vanuatu’s islands came into site, Susan Boyle’s rendition of I Dreamed a Dream started playing. It was uncanny because I was thinking of all those years ago when Frank and I had first entertained the idea of Peace Corps – and this song began to play. As I squeezed my eyes tight to keep the tears from coming I realized that there was no doubt that he was right next to me with his nose pressed against the window just waiting for our next adventure to begin…so away we go!
The biggest worry that I’ve had over the last several weeks is the fact that I haven’t been able to get rid of an upper respiratory infection – despite the fact that I’ve been to the doctor 3 times, finished 3 different types of prescriptions, and downed countless shots of vodka – per my brother Kelly’s advice. Although the vodka hasn’t cured the cough – I haven’t minded it as much!! But seriously, I am worried that the Peace Corps personnel at the “Staging” event in Los Angeles may not allow me to board the plane because I honestly sound like somebody who has whooping cough! I’m taking lots of Hall’s Mentholyptus and hoping for the best!
Well, September 9th dawned, the furniture and car is in storage, and my goodbyes have been said – so it’s off to Los Angeles to meet everybody else heading to Vanuatu. As I boarded the hotel van at Los Angeles International Airport, I thought I spotted two other people who were volunteers – and later it was confirmed when I saw them in line at the Peace Corps registration desk.
The only thing scheduled after our arrival on Thursday, the 9th, was final completion of the mountain of forms that we’re required to bring with us and get them checked off by the 3 Peace Corps trainers and then get acquainted with everybody else in the group. We have 41 volunteers heading to Vanuatu – with a wide range of backgrounds…and ages. I might add that I am not the oldest person in the group. In fact, there are 8 of us who fall within the 50+ category of recruits, so I’m relieved to know that I’m likely not the only “Grandma” in the group. We pretty much take over the bar and grill at the hotel and spend a couple of hours over pizza and beer to get acquainted. I am absolutely amazed at the background of some of these “kids”. Some of them have already worked or volunteered in very remote locales throughout the world – Africa, South America, Mexico, Europe. It really seems to be an amazing group of people.
Friday, September 10th, we all meet in the conference room to get started at 8:30. Today is primarily spent on various break-out sessions and ice-breakers to get acquainted, and in turn learn about the history of the Peace Corps, its objectives, and its expectations of us as volunteers. As we wrap up for the day, the excitement in the room is palpable – all of us are “chomping at the bit” to head out. Thankfully the staff didn’t tell me that I had to go home because of my cough, so I was ready to go!
At last the buses pull up, and we begin to load the literal mountains of luggage. Our itinerary says that we are flying on a United flight operated by Air New Zealand – so the buses pull up in front of the United terminal at Los Angeles International. The lead person on our bus asks the bus driver if this is in fact the correct place to be, since it looks like we might need to be at the Air New Zealand terminal. He assures everybody that we are in the right place and begins unloading all the bags. So, in we trek – and line up for check-in. Well, yes – you’ve guessed it – we were in the wrong terminal. By now the buses are nowhere in site – and we’re left with figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B. If you have never traveled through Los Angeles International, let me just say that it is pretty big and it’s not particularly easy to get from one end to the other with so many bags. There was no way that we could possibly load all the bags onto the airport bus that came by, so we found carts and walked all the way around the terminal grounds – cutting through parking lots and Lord knows what else to finally arrive at the Air New Zealand counter. It took about 2 hours for everybody to get checked in – and after a few more beers and some snacks at one of the restaurants we were at last ready to board!
Thirteen hours later, we arrive at Auckland International Airport in the wee morning hours on Sunday, September 12th – because we crossed the International Date Line, Saturday, the 11th, was nowhere to be found! After a layover of a few hours, at last we boarded the plane for the 3-hour flight to Port Vila, Vanuatu.
I was listening to music on the plane’s headphones, and just as the first of Vanuatu’s islands came into site, Susan Boyle’s rendition of I Dreamed a Dream started playing. It was uncanny because I was thinking of all those years ago when Frank and I had first entertained the idea of Peace Corps – and this song began to play. As I squeezed my eyes tight to keep the tears from coming I realized that there was no doubt that he was right next to me with his nose pressed against the window just waiting for our next adventure to begin…so away we go!
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