Buckets of culture
Storyteller
Tue 2 Sep 2008 21:49
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Port Vila (still)
Fairly strong trade winds, right on the nose, have
kept us in Vila longer than we had intended, but with a decent forecast from
Bruce our plan is to check out of Vanuatu today and head off tomorrow for the
Loyalty Islands in New Caledonia. So out with the French dictionary! The
experience of Southern Princess who encountered awful conditions on their
sail to New Caledonia last week made us very glad we and our friends Don and
Anne on the American yacht, Harmonie, delayed our departure. So instead of
sailing South to the island of Tanna, we flew down to see the famous volcano and
experience some of the local culture. Stupidly, I neglected to consult the
Lonely Planet, and booked a trip through the closest travel agent.Big mistake! I
should have realised all was not well when I was handed plane tickets with the
names of another couple on them and told not to worry about it.That summed up
the tone of the whole trip. When we arrived at Tanna we rattled across
incredibly rutted 'roads' for a couple of hours, with a pile of Ni Vans (the
local people) in the tray of the ute. After crossing a huge ash desert, we
arrived at our bungalow--a tiny grass hut with no door, no electricity, no
sheets, and the most uncomfortable bed I have ever slept on. No problem if we
had known, but we were paying serious money for this. What was worse was that it
was my birthday and we had neglected to bring even a beer or a bottle of water
with us. Luckily a very nice couple from Christchurch were on the trip and we
were able to laugh at the Fawlty Towers of Tanna.
The volcano itself was in fine form, shooting up
great boulders of moulten rock and rumbling in a very scary way. We were told
that it was much more active than usual which was borne out when all the
vulcanologists ran for their hard hats. We'd gone up at dusk, as the
volcano looks most spectacular at night. Of course no torches were
providedby our hosts, so the trip back down the steep side of the boulder-strewn
volcano in the dark was quite a challenge. Those on official tours were provided
with yellow vests, which made an awful lot of sense. Vanuatu not being a
nanny state, there no barriers of any sort. We were told though never to turn
our backs and run from the exploding rocks, as the previous week a French
tourist had been badly injured as she ran and tripped over a
boulder.
After a very basic meal there was nothing to do but
retire at 8.30 with a flickering candle to our salubrious
accommodation. Negotiating a trip to the bathroom in the dark was a
real challenge--no basin, no mirror, non-flushing loo. We emerged next
morning feeling as though we had a massive hangover after an
almost sleepless night punctuated by the thunder-like claps from the
volcano, the rustling of rats and the coughing of the villagers sleeping
nearby. We were supposed to see kastom dancing in another village, but
this was cancelled due to the recent death of the chief. Instead we trekked
up a steep path to view the corpse lying in state on a platform, surrounded by
grieving elders. On the way up the track, we were surprised by heavily
camouflaged spear-carrying young men leaping out at us from behind trees.
The idea was that we were missionaries being challenged on their way through the
jungle. After visiting the site where cannibal ceremonies took place--a
wonderful view of the volcano-- we did feel for the missionaries.
Next day a circumcision ceremony was planned for the 7-year
boys--performed with a piece of bamboo. Everwhere we went even the youngest
boys played homemade ukelele-like instruments. the young men were never seen
without a mobile phone. It was very amusing to see Digicel mobile
phone signs on grass huts. The men were all heavily involved in the election
campaign. We do hope that the government minister who has recently written
off 5 cars and beaten up his wife does not get reelected!
We jolted our way on the long journey back to
the airport, this time the resort owner riding in state in the front seat of the
ute, with the guests stuck in the tray at the back--a fitting finish to the
trip. Of course we had a wonderful view of the villages and the local
people who live a subsistence existence. They all seem to be fit and
healthy, and the only difference from their lives a hundred years ago is the
wearing of western clothes. The children are a delight, but you wouldn't want to
be a woman in this society.
We were very lucky to be able to an example of
women's customs when we went to see a group from the island of
Gaua in the remote north of Vanuatu play
their Water Music, an amazing performance where about eight women use the hands
and arms in the sea (a swimming pool at the EU Residence in this
case) to produce extraordinary sounds. The closest I could think of was
Rolfe Harris' wobble board. The group, who had never even been to Port Vila
before, had just returned from a trip to Spain where they had performed at a
wealthy family's celebaration. As young people would say.'How cool was
that!'
In contrast to all this, we drove to other side of
the island yesterday (a holiday for the election) to have lunch at one of the
loveliest little resorts we have ever seen.
Of all the Pacific countries we've been to, Vanuatu
is the most interesting and varied. We hope to return next
winter.
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