Walkabout week 2: Welcome to Tongariki
2015-05-26
There is one truck on Tongariki, which is owned by the aid post on the island. Once ashore we waited at the bottom of the mountain for the truck to come. Someone had brought down some yams with coconut milk for us, which I appreciated since I had missed lunch. I tried to chat with some of the children who waited with us, who were both very curious about me but also very shy when I'd try talking to them. After maybe half an hour of waiting, we loaded up our bags and rode up. Do I even need to mention the road was narrow, full of switchbacks, deeply rutted and bumpy at this point? Annette even let me sit in the front seat with her this time.
We came to a stop at a flat space, the first one I'd seen, near the Coconak K-6 primary school. The area is what we call a saddle in the U.S., that gentle arc between two mountains. When I tried to describe it, I learned there is no word for saddle in Bislama, and they call it a "ples blog sid daon long hos" (the place where you sit on a horse). They do have horses in Vanuatu, and I have to think horse people have a term for saddle. But not on Tongariki.
The saddle area has unobstructed views east and west to the ocean. In the distance are the mountainous nearby islands. You're basically overlooking Jurassic Park. A breeze blows constantly and it is lush and beautiful. Papaya, guava, yam, manioc, taro, kumala (sweet potato), coconuts, grapefruit and bananas are all grown here. There are no snakes, no poisonous anythings, no millipedes (the ones on the other islands of Vanuatu give painful bites), no centipedes, no wasps, no bees, and no frogs. There are rats, of course. A few people have cows, goats or pigs, which are slaughtered for special occasions.
We waited for about an hour, during which I met Ben Mawa. It turns out that the school principal and teacher is out on maternity leave in Port Vila, and Mawa is a substitute teacher and temporary principal. We exchanged contact info. I learned that substitute teachers aren't paid by the government, but the community pitches in to pay him something. I'm sure it isn't much. Mawa is someone you just like right away, and I was glad we ran into him.
It wasn't a coincidence. Mawa led us up one of the hills, right into a welcome ceremony for me. I'd arrived at the village of Lakilia, and this is what happened. They had created a gate into the nakamal (community area) with an arrangement of coconut leaves. At first the gate was closed, but then one man split open one of the leaves, opening the gate. A group of about a dozen villagers started singing and dancing, moving slowly toward the nakamal, and somehow they made it clear I should follow, which I did.
We then passed through a second coconut leaf gate, and after some more singing and dancing, I was asked to sit down. A couple people welcomed me with kind words and introduced my host family to me. They draped some calico fabric over me. They gave me my island (or "kastom") name of "Riki". Then they asked me to say a few words. My Bislama still isn't any good, though I can say a few things, and I hadn't prepared anything, I wasn't expecting this. Crap. So I winged it, and in broken but apparently comprehensible Bislama told them I was happy to be there and appreciated the warm welcome. Or something like that. They all smiled and clapped anyway.
Then they walked me to my new house, which had a separate bush kitchen and outhouse, and was fenced by a post and wire fence, and decorated with small trees all around. It looked cute. I don't know if it was already there or built for me. We all ceremoniously walked in through the gate and some more words that I'm sure were important were said by someone I'm sure is important. I was basically asked, "Looks alright?" to which I responded with a yes, and the ceremony was over and everyone but my host parents (Winnie and Mac) left.
Winnie, Mac and I hung my mosquito net and a solar light appeared from somewhere. I've been shown how to use the light half a dozen times now, even though it is just a light, has one button, and all the lights in Vanuatu work the same. It is all just being helpful. They don't know what I know, and some of the things I don't know how to do surprise them. For example every male here has carried a knife since the age of 3 or so. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. Little kids run around with knives. At a certain age they get a bush knife, and they always carry that. So they're really good with their bush knives. I'm new to bush knives and amuse them when I use mine.
By now it was dark. We headed to the nakamal for dinner, which included the skip jack tuna caught that morning. The other featured item was yams. Yams and laplap yam. Laplap is a class of dish made of a number of different ingredients, including manioc, banana (laplap banana, made with sweet bananas, is by far the best) and now I know, the yam. The other yams were boiled and served with coconut milk.
I think I just went to bed after that. It was 8:00 or so, making it pretty late. In general here, people get up and go to bed with the sun. Well, sometimes they stay up half or all the night talking, but in general the sun sets the hours.
There is one truck on Tongariki, which is owned by the aid post on the island. Once ashore we waited at the bottom of the mountain for the truck to come. Someone had brought down some yams with coconut milk for us, which I appreciated since I had missed lunch. I tried to chat with some of the children who waited with us, who were both very curious about me but also very shy when I'd try talking to them. After maybe half an hour of waiting, we loaded up our bags and rode up. Do I even need to mention the road was narrow, full of switchbacks, deeply rutted and bumpy at this point? Annette even let me sit in the front seat with her this time.
We came to a stop at a flat space, the first one I'd seen, near the Coconak K-6 primary school. The area is what we call a saddle in the U.S., that gentle arc between two mountains. When I tried to describe it, I learned there is no word for saddle in Bislama, and they call it a "ples blog sid daon long hos" (the place where you sit on a horse). They do have horses in Vanuatu, and I have to think horse people have a term for saddle. But not on Tongariki.
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| A panoramic view of the saddle where the Coconak school and Ambroh Dispensary (blue building) are perched. On the left is due east, and on the right is due west. The place has a beautiful and calming feel. |
The saddle area has unobstructed views east and west to the ocean. In the distance are the mountainous nearby islands. You're basically overlooking Jurassic Park. A breeze blows constantly and it is lush and beautiful. Papaya, guava, yam, manioc, taro, kumala (sweet potato), coconuts, grapefruit and bananas are all grown here. There are no snakes, no poisonous anythings, no millipedes (the ones on the other islands of Vanuatu give painful bites), no centipedes, no wasps, no bees, and no frogs. There are rats, of course. A few people have cows, goats or pigs, which are slaughtered for special occasions.
We waited for about an hour, during which I met Ben Mawa. It turns out that the school principal and teacher is out on maternity leave in Port Vila, and Mawa is a substitute teacher and temporary principal. We exchanged contact info. I learned that substitute teachers aren't paid by the government, but the community pitches in to pay him something. I'm sure it isn't much. Mawa is someone you just like right away, and I was glad we ran into him.
It wasn't a coincidence. Mawa led us up one of the hills, right into a welcome ceremony for me. I'd arrived at the village of Lakilia, and this is what happened. They had created a gate into the nakamal (community area) with an arrangement of coconut leaves. At first the gate was closed, but then one man split open one of the leaves, opening the gate. A group of about a dozen villagers started singing and dancing, moving slowly toward the nakamal, and somehow they made it clear I should follow, which I did.
We then passed through a second coconut leaf gate, and after some more singing and dancing, I was asked to sit down. A couple people welcomed me with kind words and introduced my host family to me. They draped some calico fabric over me. They gave me my island (or "kastom") name of "Riki". Then they asked me to say a few words. My Bislama still isn't any good, though I can say a few things, and I hadn't prepared anything, I wasn't expecting this. Crap. So I winged it, and in broken but apparently comprehensible Bislama told them I was happy to be there and appreciated the warm welcome. Or something like that. They all smiled and clapped anyway.
Then they walked me to my new house, which had a separate bush kitchen and outhouse, and was fenced by a post and wire fence, and decorated with small trees all around. It looked cute. I don't know if it was already there or built for me. We all ceremoniously walked in through the gate and some more words that I'm sure were important were said by someone I'm sure is important. I was basically asked, "Looks alright?" to which I responded with a yes, and the ceremony was over and everyone but my host parents (Winnie and Mac) left.
Winnie, Mac and I hung my mosquito net and a solar light appeared from somewhere. I've been shown how to use the light half a dozen times now, even though it is just a light, has one button, and all the lights in Vanuatu work the same. It is all just being helpful. They don't know what I know, and some of the things I don't know how to do surprise them. For example every male here has carried a knife since the age of 3 or so. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. Little kids run around with knives. At a certain age they get a bush knife, and they always carry that. So they're really good with their bush knives. I'm new to bush knives and amuse them when I use mine.
By now it was dark. We headed to the nakamal for dinner, which included the skip jack tuna caught that morning. The other featured item was yams. Yams and laplap yam. Laplap is a class of dish made of a number of different ingredients, including manioc, banana (laplap banana, made with sweet bananas, is by far the best) and now I know, the yam. The other yams were boiled and served with coconut milk.
I think I just went to bed after that. It was 8:00 or so, making it pretty late. In general here, people get up and go to bed with the sun. Well, sometimes they stay up half or all the night talking, but in general the sun sets the hours.
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