Chief Kerely, the Snake Dance and Vegetables in Waterfall Bay, Vanua Lava, Vanuatu

Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Tue 19 Aug 2008 23:13
13:49.627S  167:22.875E
 
Sorry for the delay, we've been enjoying civilization in Port Vila and neglecting our normal boat duties - like blog writing.  We didn't even realize the Olympics were going on until we sat down at the waterfront bar and looked up at the big screen TV to see the all-around women's gymnastics competition on display.  I'm not sure how thrilled Don was to be watching women's gymnastics, but I found it fascinating.  Actually, in our TV and general news deprived state, I think Don truly enjoyed the gymnastics too - although I'm not sure he would admit it to anyone at home.
 
Now that we are in Port Vila, it's hard to imagine that just a few days ago we were sitting with the chief outside his thatch hut, watching his family and the other villagers build new thatch structures from parts of palm trees in preparation for an upcoming festival, and discussing ways to use the nearby waterfall to generate enough electricity to run a few lights for the villagers to use at night.  Yup, hard to imagine, but here goes...Sorry in advance - this is a long one.
 
On Friday 8/8, we left Losalava on Gaua Island with the intention of going to Sola, the main town on Vanua Lava Island and also the port of entry where we needed to visit customs and obtain a new cruising permit.  As mentioned in the previous blog entry, the weather wasn't cooperating, so instead of beating into the wind to Sola, we gave up and pointed toward the west side of the island and Waterfall Bay.  We arrived at about five o'clock that afternoon, once again the only boat in the bay.  It wasn't long before the Outrigger Alert was sounded.  Don greeted Paramount Chief Kerely Malau on deck while I scrambled out of my shorts and into a more acceptable pair of crop pants.  With my thighs properly covered, I joined Don in greeting the Chief.
 
The Chief welcomed us to the bay, said we could swim and snorkel and visit the twin waterfalls as well as the yacht club and restaurant.  Other activities were available for a price, with a guide provided. He asked how long we would be staying and in the next breath asked if we had email on board.  When we told him we would be staying three nights and yes, we had email, he politely asked if we would be willing to send an email for him.  We said no problem and the Chief paddled back to shore to prepare the email with a promise to be back by 'half five'.  We grimaced a little bit as we were looking forward to a quiet happy hour in the first non-rolly anchorage we had experienced since Peterson Bay six nights before.  We postponed happy hour and the Chief was back in his canoe as promised at 5:30 with his hand-written email and Eddie, who we later decided was the Chief's right-hand man and general all-around pal.  I typed up the email while the Chief softly talked to Don (all the ni-Van people talk softly - there is positively no yelling in Vanuatu).  Eddie, meanwhile, sat quietly and didn't say a word.
 
The Chief had brought with him the yachtless yacht club 'programme', which was a thin binder with several plastic covered sheets inside printed with various things like the yacht club rules, the restaurant menu and a price list of activities and tours.  Having been to Lakona Bay on Gaua Island where all they had were soggy visitor's books and word-of-mouth, the presentation of this information in an organized fashion and professional manner was really impressive.  Impressive, especially after the Chief apologized for his poor English (it was very good) and stated that he had only gone as far as year three in school (3rd grade).  The Chief had obviously received assistance from yachties that had visited Waterfall Bay before us and printed the information for him using their computers, but knowing this didn't take away from the fact that he was industrious enough to come up with and implement the idea in the first place.
 
The yacht club menu was simple (it had to be since once again there were no roads, no boats and therefore, no supplies) and went something like this:
Breakfast:  freshly baked bread / eggs / tropical fruits / cattowit / tea or coffee
Lunch and Dinner:  island food/rice, fresh water prawns, lobster (crayfish), fruits, chicken or rooster, fried fish
We never did find out what cattowit was, or what exactly 'island food' was comprised of, but the rest wasn't far from what we had on board anyway.  We didn't sample the restaurant, but we did sail away the following Monday with an entire collection of vegetables.  More on that later.
 
The email the Chief asked us to send for him was addressed to a husband and wife on a catamaran.  It was a little difficult to tell from the way the letter was written, but we think the Chief was asking the yachties if they had received his quote for a fiberglass boat and outboard for the villagers to use for fishing.  It seemed like he was fishing for the funding of a fishing boat.  We never did receive a reply to the email.  Hmmm....
 
After the Chief finished going through the yacht club information with Don and we agreed to come to shore in the morning, he and pal Eddie climbed back into the Chief's outrigger and paddled away in the descending darkness.  We enjoyed our delayed happy hour on a boat that was thankfully not bouncing, rolling or moving in any way that could remotely be described as annoying.  We marveled over how dignified the Chief was in his quiet soft-spoken way - and how progressive he seemed to be within the confines of his people's traditional lifestyle.  Don asked if I had noticed what the dignified Chief was wearing. 
'Just a short sleeve shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts, wasn't he?'  I asked. 
'Yes, but did you notice what was on the shirt?' asked Don. 
'Nope.'
'It was the top half of a McDonald's uniform.'
'No way.'
'Yes, it was.  Golden arches and all.'
'Too funny!  How ironic.'
 
And it was.  To us anyway.  We are certain the Chief had never visited a McDonald's (believe it or not there are none in Vanuatu), nor even knew of its existence.  If so, he might not have been so willing to sport its uniform.  In fact, he wore that shirt not only on Friday, but Saturday and Sunday as well.  When he saw us off on Monday morning, we were happy to see he had changed into a different, non-McDonald's shirt.
 
Saturday morning we went ashore as planned and the Chief's pal Eddie met us on shore and helped pull the dinghy up on the black sand beach.  We entered the thatch yacht club, where flags from yachts that had visited hung from the ceiling along with a few handmade baskets for sale.  On the concrete floor was a long table and some pink plastic chairs.  All in all, quite luxurious compared to the small thatch huts with mud floors we had seen in Lakona Bay.  The Chief, his wife Elizabeth (dressed in her Sunday best Mother Hubbard), their three daughters and adopted son were waiting for us when we arrived.  The Chief indicated that we should stand on one side of the table while he and his family stood on the other.  'We will sing you a welcome song now.' he said.  And they did.  To the tune of 'My Country 'Tis of Thee', but with words appropriate to Waterfall Bay and welcoming yachties.  You just don't get this kind of treatment everywhere, now do you? 
 
After the welcome song, the Chief motioned for us to sit down.  I reviewed the yacht club 'programme' while the Chief asked Don if he had any questions about Vanua Lava, Waterfall Bay or the customs and traditions of the people.  In his soft-spoken way, the Chief acted just a bit uncomfortable when the questions came from me.  It was clear he much preferred to talk to the man of the family since his answers to my questions were always directed to Don.  I secretly forgave the Chief for this knowing it was just a cultural thing and probably wasn't meant to be taken personally.  We learned that the Chief was not elected by the people, but instead was elevated to his position through the traditional grade-taking process.  The Chief was a little vague when he explained how this was done...
Don:  How many grades of Chief are there?
Chief:  Twelve
Don:  And you are a grade two?
Chief: Yes and there is one other grade two Chief on Vanua Lava as well.
Don:  So there are no Chiefs higher than a grade two?
Chief:  No.
Don:  How do you advance to higher grades?
Chief:  I have to learn the traditional ways and customs and prove that I have learned these things.
Don:  Who do you learn these things from if there are no higher grade Chiefs?
Chief:  This is a problem.
Don:  Do you learn from the older people that remember the old ways?
Chief:  Some, but many have died.
 
This is the problem in Vanua Lava and probably other parts of Vanuatu as well.  When the missionaries arrived in the 1800's, they called for all native customs and worship practices to stop.  Some of this was good as it put an end to cannibalism and inter-tribe fighting in the Vanuatu islands, but much of the other customs, culture and verbal history of the people was lost.  The Chief's elder brother has spent over twelve years researching 'the old ways' on Vanua Lava and some of the other islands by interviewing the elderly.  Nothing is written, so the only way to gain insight is through the memories of older people.  This is not an easy task given that less than three percent of the Vanuatu population is over 65 years old.  There just aren't that many older people around.  As a result, the Chief is striving to preserve the old ways and adhere to tradition, without fully knowing what those traditions are.  Kind of a strange position to be in, but it seems he is doing his best with the help of the research his brother has done.     
 
After our lesson in Vanuatu customs, we finished reviewing the yacht club 'programme' and chose to see the old cave paintings and hear Waterfall Bay's version of water music.  The Chief's brother was assigned to take us to see the cave paintings and led us up the steep semi-path to the sacred site.  He explained that the people used to live in caves, hidden high in the bush, because of the protection they provided from the elements as well as from other unwelcome tribesmen.  He didn't know how old the paintings were and it looked like the painted figures had been retraced with new lime paint in the recent past because they were so vibrant (picture 1). The Chief's brother said no one from the village is allowed to see the cave paintings.  Only visitors, the Chief and he were allowed to the sacred site.  We decided there must be some logic to this rule, but we failed to see it.
 
The Chief's brother then took us to see the famous twin falls of Waterfall Bay.  Definitely the prettiest waterfalls we have seen so far (picture 2).  They are so perfectly formed that they look fake - like the manmade streams and falls that adorn extremely ritzy resorts in places like Hawaii and the Caribbean.  The falls are about 150 feet tall and the pool at their foot is a perfect circle of clear fresh water with an outlet that flows the short few feet directly into the sea.  We couldn't see the falls from where our boat was anchored, but we could hear their roar and when the wind was just right, we were showered with their cool spray. Not a bad thing at all.
 
In the afternoon, we came back to the village to see (hear) the water music.  The Chief led us back to the pool beneath the waterfalls where his wife, sister, daughters and yes, his pal Eddie waded into the water.  It seems that although it is taboo for a woman to show her thighs in Vanuatu, showing anything above the waist is fair game.  The Chief's wife (five months pregnant and all) and daughters entered the water topless and his sister wore only a lacy black bra (which had difficulty staying in place once the water music began in earnest, much to her and the Chief's wife's amusement).  At this point Don accused me of being sexist since I had no problem taking pictures of naked little boys and grown men's dancing butts.  He's right.  I just couldn't take pictures of the Chief's topless family.  Sorry guys.  If it makes you feel any better, the water music was a disappointment anyway.  Not only was it difficult to hear due to the roar of the falls, but it really was nothing like what we heard in Lakona Bay - not even close.  The Chief's family 'played' only one rhythm a couple of times in short bursts and that was about it.  They did seem to have fun doing it - especially with the stray lacy black bra issues.  And afterwards they all went for a swim in the fabulous waterfall pool and that looked like fun too, but the water music was really a bust (literally).
 
After the water music episode, it was time for more discussion with the Chief.  He brought the pink plastic chairs out of the yacht club and into the shade and after some halting conversation, asked Don his opinion on how best to provide a small amount of electricity to the village without having to rely on fuel from the 'outside world'.  After some thought Don suggested using the most obvious natural resource available to the village, the waterfall.  The Chief brightened and said he had thought of this and proceeded to draw a diagram in the black sand with a stick.  'There's a pool at the top of the falls that is always full of water,' he said.  'A pipe could bring the water from the pool down the 50 meter waterfall drop to power a small generator.  Don agreed this could work and asked if we could see the pool at the top of the waterfall.  'Now?' asked the Chief.  Never one to procrastinate, Don said 'Now is as good a time as any.'  The Chief rustled up Eddie, the constant, quiet companion, and the four of us set off on what turned out to be a two hour hike through the steep Vanuatu bush.  Eddie led the way, bush knife (machete) in hand, chopping a path for us as we climbed up the muddy terrain.  At times Eddie had to manhandle me up a particularly steep grade and I felt like I was being short-roped up the Hillary (sp?) Step by a Sherpa.  Eventually, sweating, we made it to the top of the waterfall where just as the Chief said, there was a nice pool of water just begging for someone to tap it and turn it into a power source.  I admired the scenery while quiet Eddie went for a swim and Don and the Chief discussed the power possibilities. 
 
After a bit we made our way back down where the Chief asked if we would type up and print out a few documents he needed for the upcoming cultural festival Waterfall Bay is hosting in early September.  In exchange for our help with the typing and printing, the email we sent, and some kava and soap we gave him (he had indicated they were out of soap and that it was one thing they didn't know how to make for themselves), we received a giant amount of vegetables from the Chief's garden - peppers, potatoes, green onions wrapped in a huge banana leaf, a papaya, and a huge bunch of unidentifiable leafy green stuff that we later found tastes like spinach when sautéed in olive oil and butter.  The Chief also threw in some eggs taken that morning from his chickens.  With this haul of vegetables and our previous fruit haul from Hog's Harbour and Gaua Island, we were set.  If it weren't for our constant junk food, ice cream and chocolate cravings and the fact that we were dangerously low on beer, we might have stayed in the northern reaches of Vanuatu for another month - living off the land and becoming one with the villagers.
 
Picture 3 - Don with the Chief (you can't see the Golden Arches, but honest, they are there), one of the Chief's daughters and the ubiquitous, quiet Eddie all standing in front of one of the village's guest bungalows.
Picture 4 - The Chief's sleeping house - it is the largest and most elaborate of the huts in the village, and like all the other structures, has a concrete floor.
Picture 5 - The yacht club, with one of the Chief's daughters sitting in the doorway on one of the pink plastic chairs.
 
On Sunday, we returned to the village in the afternoon to view the snake dance that the Chief and the men and boys of the village had agreed to perform for us.  Normally the traditional dances are not performed unless the audience is at least four people, but the Chief decided it was ok to dance for just the two of us - perhaps he thought it would be good practice for the upcoming festival.  Performing the snake dance is no small feat.  Actually, preparing for it takes significantly more time than performing the dance itself.  Half of the dancers blacken their skin with what was described by the Chief's brother as 'secret' stuff.  Then they paint white stripes on their blackened body winding all the way from neck to toe, and top it all off with elaborately prepared masks for their heads.  Once complete, these men and boys become the snakes.  The other half of the dancers don grass skirts and bits of foliage and pound an overturned dugout canoe with sticks to create the dance rhythm.  The gist of the dance is a celebration of the legend that the Vanua Lava people descended from the mighty sea snake (we saw one of the famous Vanuatu sea snakes in Peterson Bay, and we're not sure we'd want to celebrate descending from one).  Pictures 6 and 7 show the dancers and picture 8 shows the Chief in his dance costume.  A bit more dignified than the McDonald's uniform top and cut-off shorts, don't you think?  Note the pig's tusk hanging from his neck.  Pigs in Vanuatu are a sign of wealth.  The Chief boasted about the 23 pigs that he owns.  In the remote islands, pigs are used as currency and only killed and eaten for very special occasions.  This information makes the pig feast and gift of a live pig to the rally boaters back in Tanna even more significant. 
 
As a matter of fact, one of the documents the Chief asked me to type up in preparation for the festival was a kind of rules and associated penalties document.  What it said was:
 
Bad things are not allowed during the festival season:
    Stealing
    Swearing
    Drinking
    Fighting
    Quarrelling
 
If anyone breaks this order, the penalty is:
    One pig
    Money (Vatu)
 
I swear, that's what the document says.  We know because we still have the Word document on the computer.  Imagine trying to implement this form of crowd control methodology in the US.  Not sure it would be effective, but everyone might get a good giggle out of it.  I'm sure it will work well in Waterfall Bay.
 
On Monday morning, 8/11, we left Waterfall Bay after one more visit from the Chief in his canoe.  This time he delivered a list of the items he thinks he needs for the water/power system and his address on Vanua Lava Island.  Don promised to think more about the potential power system and write the Chief a letter with a more detailed plan.  We do plan to go back to Waterfall Bay next year, so I'm sure there will be more discussions with Chief Kerely at that time.
 
That was the end of our very interesting weekend in the lovely Waterfall Bay on Vanua Lava Island.  We'll try to remember not to do any bad things like steal, swear, fight or quarrel, but we might have to pay a pig or two for the drinking...
Anne
 

 

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