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!
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