Vanuatu Nomo

"Only in Vanuatu" is the translation of the title. I found a little time today to write a blog I'd been meaning to write on some strange and funny things that happen here. And seeing as I was already in the blogging mode today earlier I'll a keep on a rollin.
I should probably start with some walkabout stories that I was unable to get out until now as I've been incommunicado for a little while. For those of you that may have forgotten walkabout was our one week site visit we had four weeks ago before swearing in as volunteers, which was yesterday.
So I wrote a little about my walkabout visit but the best stories were not from my visit. Adam, from my group, was sent to West Santo, a trip that involves a 14 hour truck ride to the bush. In fact there was a village in West Santo that a few years ago was first discovered and had not had contact with anyone from the developed world. Adam pretty much lived the life of Mowgli for a few days: spearing eels, sleeping by the river, spearing a bull and carrying it a long way back to the village.
Tim went to South Ambae were he was greeted by the Ni-Van version of rednecks. They were a rough bunch and were convinced that when Tim arrived "South Ambae i kam antop." Which can mean as little as bringing a few solar panels in. He equated his visit to a trip to the real South, but Vanuatu style.
Julie went to Luganville, Vanuatu's second biggest city to work with the provincial government. Her counterpart/boss told her upon her arrival that he did not need her services. Julie then had to describe what she was bringing to the table. Who knew she'd have a job interview for her site visit? Harsh! Things are getting worked out now and it looks like she got the job. Ridiculous...Excuse me! Peace Corps! Volunteer!?
Matt went to South Tanna where he was greeted by a village of very short people and Matt is about 6'4" and built like a lineman. His best explanation for his village was "National Geographic." The women didn't wear shirts, and people get loaded on kava starting at about noon. The man that gave him his custom name while he was out there had lost vision in one of eyes after he tried to shoot a bird out of the air with an arrow and it came down and stabbed him in the eye. Damn! What are the odds of that happening?
Nate who also stayed in Tanna shared some similar bush stories with some additions. He was placed in a satellite village of 10 people where only 3 of them spoke Bislama. You can imagine conversation can run a little thin after a while. They told Nate that they had a plate for him to use and they produced some nasty, dirty plate. They then proceeded to wash the plate which entailed taking a big mouthful of water and hosing it down. O.K., all clean now!
Nate and I found out this week that our sites were actually supposed to be switched (I was supposed to go to Tanna and he Pele) and we both agreed that each project has its big downfalls that don't make us envy one another, him with the isolation factor and me with the rat's nest of a project that I have to untangle. We agreed that at All-Vol next year we'll see who's got it worse. There's plenty of other stories I have failed to write down here but these stuck out as some Vanuatu Nomo type things.
So...onward with Vanuatu and its charm. Two weeks ago in Vila there was a jailbreak where all the cons scaled the 6 foot non-barbed wire fence and proceeded to stone government buildings and property. Six hours later they all returned on their own accord content with their mischievous behavior. Apparently these jail break then afterward returning instances are fairly common. And, I also learned of the good convict chaperoned kava times. I guess some times good convicts accompany bad convicts so they can have kava in town. How this is decided and what warrants good vs. bad, I haven't a clue.
More...I've heard of a volunteer that lives in a site where he must light a fire to signal his boat transport to pick him up across the bay. Once on the island he can be found storying with a chief who has not lost his passion for playing with toy cars! I envisioned the Hanson brothers in "Slaphot" with this one. "They brought their fucking toys...Who are these guys?!"
And now for something completely different...Remember "Reefer Madness?" Of course you do. The prohibition-era scare movie where people smoke pot then go nuts and screw everything in sight. Well although most in America have moved past this, many Ni-Vans tend to think weed makes you crazy. Thank you so much missionaries! The church has got everyone scared as hell of it but there is a large part of the youth (16-25) that poo-poo it and burn down anyway. We were driving into town the other day when we passed an obviously wacked out guy on the side of the road. "Too much marijuana" the bus driver called out. "You think weed does that to you?" I innocently asked. To which one of our Ni-Van trainers explained, "Yes, if you smoke too much weed you go crazy" with every bit of sincerity he had. How about that? Well if a Peace Corps trainer, a well educated man, nonetheless, believes it then it must be true...
Cyclones (or hurricanes as you know it) are interesting topics around here. People don't really evacuate here. Where the hell would you go anyway? I heard one story a few weeks ago about a current volunteer that was riding out one about a year or two ago. Apparently he was huddled next to one of his tin walls in his house until the wind ripped that wall off. A process he repeated for the next two walls until they blew off. I think with one wall to go he decided to cut his losses and make a run for it sporting nothing but his boxers (I guess it hit in the morning?) He was met with his family as he dashed outside and was given a baby to hold as they ran through a coconut plantation mine field (coconuts dropping from wind).
Which brings up another danger in Vanuatu: The Old Coconut to the Dome. Coconut trees are very tall sometimes and coconuts are not light when they fall. In fact there's a story of a volunteer having a coconut fall down and the force of it raked off a good portion of her face. nasty! My host uncle was gathering up vegetables one day in the bush garden when a coconut decided to crack him over the head. I guess he woke up 20 minutes later and went to the hospital for a nice concussion. He's lucky he's not dead or a little slow. So maybe we should be issued coconut helmets when we arrive. We already stick out as white people already. Why not where obnoxiously big and colorful helmets? But seriously, I tend to know when I am or are not under a coconut tree as a result of these stories.
...Ni-Vans love the megaphone for any type of announcement. The guy from our host village that is in charge of the megaphone duties is missing his front teeth. So when announcements are made the sound is so akin to the adults in the "Peanuts" shorts that you tend to think that Charles Shultz had stayed a while in my village.
Well I'm running out of Vanuatu Nomo for now and I'm thirsty. I think its time for a cold Tusker, a shitty beer, but beer indeed. Until next time...