(Last jumper of nagol or land diving set to go)
(Pentecost Gang from left to right: upper row: Jeremiah, Carol, Laura, Alexia, Arthur, Jack, Liz, Tim. lower row: Lizzie, Bridgett, Chris, Me and Erica’s dog Sniper.)
(Chillin’ on the nagol hill)Written April 27, 2009
Alright, so it’s taken me a little while to be able to sit down and write this, but I think it’s good to do a blog on the trip to Pentecost a group of of volunteers and I made in the beginning of April. Since I have gotten back from the trip (around mid April) I have been bogged down with work and am just now able to write this.
In the weeks before our trip to Pentecost we, Peace Corps volunteers, had various conferences, pertaining to our work areas, held in Vila we had to attend . I had a close of service conference and another conference about community development strategies where I was a bit bored because if you don’t know them now, after two years, it’s a bit late as we’re going back soon. But, because a lot of volunteers were in town we were able to rally a group of 12 volunteers, including me, to go on our Pentecost trip afterwards.
The Boat Ride:
In order to save money we decided to take a passenger boat, The Fresh Cargo, to the island rather than fly. This boat is supposed to be the new speedy (relatively) way to travel by boat as your other options are to go by cargo ship (not always the most fun from what I’ve heard). So on the evening of the 3rd, after running around and getting supplies for the week, we boarded the 60ft catamaran in Mele Bay, and headed out. But wait, we were to make a stop on the other end of Mele Bay first. We chugged to the other end of the bay for what reason we did not know, but you kind of go with the flow when you’re traveling in Vanuatu. When we got to the other end of the bay night was falling as we saw a small dinghy approaching us. Were we picking up more passengers? As the dinghy got closer we saw that the three men in the boat were not propelling the boat with oars, but with planks of wood. Too funny. And it turns out the dinghy was the dinghy that belonged to the boat, and we were picking it up first. Why it was on the other end of the bay, and why it was not picked up earlier when they were probably fueling up at the nearby fueling port? Well, see that would make too much sense.
Once the dinghy arrived it was hoisted, not by ropes, but by physically lifting atop the second story of the boat. The catamaran’s engine (there are two, but only one was working) fired up and we were ready to go … or not. Now the boat was stuck in the sand as the captain had brought us too far shore to receive the damn dinghy. So what next? call the tugboat? What tugboat? This is Vanuatu. Instead a 20ft fiberglass boat with a small outboard engine was called in for the job. So they threw a line to the small boat, attached it stern to stern and we watched atop the roof deck at the long drawn out process of David trying to pull Goliath off a sandbar. After about 20 minutes the we finally got some purchase off the sand and were on our way. We headed out of Mele Bay after over 3hrs. of fiasco and into the open night sea.
(Me with hands outstretched motioning towards the small boat trying to pull us off the sand and saying, “Only in Vanuatu!” as we all were laughing about the situation)We, volunteers, assembled on the roof deck, fully prepared with playing cards, dominoes, Scrabble, and of course booze to make the games and conversation more lively. The sea was holding a light chop so we were having a good time for the first couple of hours. Then a squall rolled in and things got a little rough. During a game of dominoes one large swell threw the dominoes all over the place, and one of my dominoes was never to be found again, probably at the bottom of the sea now. The swells got larger and more intense as we were hanging on to ropes and coolers up top as security. Eventually, some of us decided it better to go below to the passenger seats. We assembled in a rag tag fashion trying to find places to sleep where we could. The seats weren’t that comfortable and sleep was a loose term as the swells were really kicking around the boat, and every time you would be about to nod off entirely a crew member would open the engine hatch (to check things) releasing a torrent of engine noise. I’m usually pretty good about not getting sea sick, but the thrashing of the boat was making my stomach cough up the occasional verp (vomit burp for those who are wondering).
I continued on like this for about 8 hours until I was aroused by some commotion behind me. The only other non- Ni-Vanuatu passenger, a French tourist, was asking me and a couple volunteers near me if we know how to deliver a baby. “Nope, no doctors or nurses out of the 12 of us.” A woman heading for Malekula apparently decided it would be a good idea to jump aboard a small boat when she was 9 months pregnant. She was now going into labor, but luckily her water hadn’t broken already. It became clear that the only person on our boat that had ever helped deliver a baby was an older man that had once delivered a baby in a village. I suggested that we see if we’ve got cell phone coverage, and call Brenda, our Peace Corps nurse. Bridgett, one of the PC volunteers, called her and got through. Brenda set us up with a bunch of instructions to make a makeshift delivery area in the galley, and we all set about collecting towels and whatever else was available.
I was cutting up strips of a sweatshirt for something that was needed and damn near lost my lunch when trying to focus on the sweatshirt in a heavily rocking boat. Bridgett and Chris were working with the woman, now surrounded by a tent-like form of clean towels and blankets, to help her out with breathing instructions and also helping her relax. Bridgett and Chris were the two we elected to help the older man with any delivering if necessary, as the galley was pretty small, and more people in the small space would have just confused things. It was a bit tense for a bit as we really were thinking the baby was going to be born on the boat, but eventually the woman’s contractions went down, and the captain agreed to put her at the closest clinic to us at that point, on Ambrym Island.
The woman, at first refused to go as she said told Bridgett and Chris that she trusted them and wanted to have the baby on the boat. To understand the woman’s seemingly crazy opinion on the subject you have to understand a couple things. First of all, people do not like visiting other islands for fear of black magic waged on them from other islanders. When you talk about delivering a baby, with all the possible complications, on a strange island, this black magic fear intensifies quite a bit. Now take Ambrym Island, known as the black magic center and capital of Vanuatu (many believe black magic originated here, and people train in sorcery here), and add that to an already existent fear of black magic and whammo! you’ve got some deep seated fear of delivering a baby there.
OK, now the second reason the woman probably wanted Chris and Bridgett to deliver the baby is that she probably truly did trust them in knowing how to deliver a baby. Even though you may explain that you have no idea of what you are doing, many Ni-Vanuatu will trust that you do just based on the fact that you are white, and have probably received a good education and so on. There is also a lot race inferiority that many Ni-Vanuatu feel and you see it when many talk about it in referring to things in “black man style” vs. “white man style.” Much of this is probably left over from colonial days, and is a very hard concept to refute now matter how much you try, and we try a lot.
So back to the story, Chris and Bridgett convinced the woman finally that the boat was not a safe place to have the baby, and we pulled onto shore in Ambrym just as light was coming into the morning, and a small fiberglass boat met us to take the woman to a local clinic. We later heard that the woman delivered a healthy baby boy in the clinic the next day. Needless to say, we were all glad to hear the news. I think we were also all very relieved that the woman didn’t have to deliver on the boat. Phew!
Pentecost Hooo:
A little later in the morning, now Saturday, we arrived on the shore of Pentecost. The boat couldn’t get too close too shore so we had to lower the dinghy which consisted of two guys throwing the dinghy off the roof and into the water. We all charted a pick-up truck and took a 15 minute ride to our base for the next week in Pangi. This is where we were set to watch the land diving on Monday morning. Once in Pangi, a Erica a PC volunteer’s site (she was to join us later as she was finishing up some stuff in Vila), we met the woman who was going to look after us, Edna. Edna was a very nice lady and very familiar to us as she had spent most of her life in a village on Efate that many of the volunteers there had their training in. We then set up our tent city in their camping area, and had a lazy day of swimming, and hanging out.
Me and the rest of the guys there were allowed to go have a look at the land diving tower they were constructing, now putting the finishing touches on. Women aren’t allowed to see the tower until the day of the ceremony, and they are never allowed to touch the tower. The custom of nagol (pronounced nan-goal, the “nan” like the pronunciation of Indian nan bread) or land diving is only done in southern Pentecost, and is thought to be where people got the idea of bungy jumping. There are only about three villages that do the nagol, and of those three only one still does the diving for custom reasons the other two do it for tourism only. The village where we were going to witness the nagol does it for tourism, but we decided to see it there as it would be a lot cheaper for us to piggy back on a cruise ship day than shell out a big chunk of money for us to see one in the custom village. The basic custom of the nagol (there’s a lot of information besides this) is that the young men jump to ensure a good yam harvest in the coming months.
The tower is built entirely of local materials: local wood for supports, cross beams, and platforms, local rope from vines and tree bark to fasten things, and vines as support lines going off to other nearby tree trunks. There are two types of towers that can be built. The first is a male tower, the kind they built where we saw the nagol. In this tower the tower is built with the tower bowing out from the platforms when you look at it in side profile. Jumpers from a male tower jump from a standing position.
The second type of tower, a female tower (we did not get the chance to see one of these) is built with no bowing out in a side profile and jumpers leave the tower from a squatting position and roll forward.
(picture of tower from front view)
(picture of tower with surrounding area)
(me with the tower to show size and the side profile of the “man” tower. You can see that the tower follows the vertical plane of the tree trunk second from the left of me, and gradually as it comes to the ground bows out more in the direction of the hill slope. You can also see a couple of the support vines well above my head).After the relaxing day and tower visit we capped off the evening with a few shells of kava.
The next day, Sunday, we did some snorkeling which included trying to locate unsuccessfully, the dugong we saw just off shore. We then decided it would be a good idea to go to church out of respect for the community. We were hoping for a relatively short service but were treated to about three hours of worship. It was a little hard for most of us, and I’m used to the 45 minute speedy service on Pele. After church some of us walked down to the village wharf where they receive cruise boats for land diving. In that area there is a plaque that commemorates Queen Elizabeth’s visit in February of 1974. This visit has a small story associated with it as a young man died during the land diving presentation the village made for the queen. The common belief is that as the queen came at a time outside of land diving or nagol, as its called, season, the vines weren’t strong enough yet, and that’s why the vine snapped and the man died. The typical nagol season is from April until late May or early June.
(Queen Elizabeth’s visit plaque)We continued walking for a while and Edna, our tour guide for the day took us to a fresh water river spot. The river wasn’t running that full so the best we could do was find a small pool about 4 feet deep to play in. But we had a blast in that small pool! We found vines to swing into the pool, we had water fights, and then Edna showed us some techniques she had picked up from the water music makers of Gaua Island. The woman that do this have traveled internationally to show off their stuff. I’ve seen video of it and it’s very impressive: it’s basically a symphony of water music that the women make entirely with hands and their bodies as they maneuver the water to make various pitches. So we learned a couple ways to make slaps and bass sounds with the water and wore ourselves out with both water slapping and laughter. The sun falling, we left our small river spot with ear to ear grins as if we were magically transformed back to being 8 years old at a fun water hole. What an awesome day that was!
Nagol (Land Diving) Day:
(Liz playing tour guide)On the day that the nagol was set to go we relaxed about in the early morning and swam, and then readied ourselves for the onslaught of 2000+ tourists coming into the village of Pangi, whose population was around 200 people. Erica, had just gotten back from Vila the day before and she was going to run a booth to sell postcards to tourists as a fundraiser. We watched as the first few groups of tourists came through. The village had their racket down well with groups of children and women singing and dancing in different areas for donations and there were little booths to sell crafts and such. We, volunteers, opted to go to the nagol site so as to get a good sitting place to watch the dives.
We sat up on top of the hill as the villagers said we could, and tried not to grit our teeth too much as we watched some of the actions of a few tourists. There were idiots trying to climb the nagol tower (very taboo), another idiot trying to dance with the custom dancers during the ceremony (also not cool), one woman just started grabbing stacks from a downed shelter without asking, and just a general lack of cultural sensitivity in actions, manner, and dress. Now, I know we, as volunteers, have been here for a while so yes, we know better in some ways, but there are some really innate things we all know about going into another culture foreign from yours and stepping lightly. And it seems that some of these people were just plain brain-dead to this. The problem too, is that it is not really in Ni-Vanuatu culture to speak out directly to people about cultural mishaps they may be making so this stuff just goes on. We, the volunteers, did speak out in a couple instances where it was just ridiculous, but for the most part we tried to ignore a lot of the stuff. It was hard sometimes though.
In some ways it felt like we were at a concert or festival with swarms of people everywhere. Once the nagol started though and we could focus on the diving it was pretty amazing. There were 8 divers in all and each one jumped from a platform of successive height, starting at about 10ft going up to the last jumper at about 40ft. Before each jump and during the custom dancers would chant and dance atop the hill that held the tower.
(Here’s a picture of the custom dancers)Each jumper has vines affixed to his ankles, and a man, standing lower on the tower, holds the vines in place so that they don’t get tangled before the jump. Before each jump the chanting gets louder and the boy or young man usually goes through a series of meditative and display motions before he jumps. One of the display-type moves involved waving the frayed vines that have been cut off as extra once the vines are secured to the feet, and sometimes a back arch or no hands display on the platform.
(a young man displaying with frayed vine ends held out) When the boy or young man is set to jump the chanting gets a little louder then quieter when he is right about to jump. The jump is quick. It is more a fall forward than a jump and a well measured vine will make it so the young man grazes his head on the softened dirt below, then snap! the vines break a small piece of wood on the platform, perpendicular to the ropes, and designed to break in order to cushion the jerk a bit. But, the cushion is very little as you can see the whip force the vines put on the body. The person doesn’t bounce back as in bungee jumping, but rather gets jerked back towards the tower by about five feet. Then some other men help the young man to his feet, with a big applause from the crowd. The most impressive jump was the last one as that was the highest jump, and it appeared that the vines were best measured as the young man’s head did graze the ground then his shoulders grazed before he was jerked back to the tower.
(Here’s a picture of the last jumper displaying before he goes)Injuries, as I found out later over kava, are not uncommon in doing this. Of the five men I was talking to later, four of them said they incurred serious injuries when they were younger. Injuries varied from ruptured spleens to broken backs and other big breaks. Thankfully, there were no injuries the day we watched, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. And the village does get a good amount of money from the tourists but I can guarantee you that’s not going to hazard pay for these jumpers.
All in all it was great to see a display of a very cool custom that these people from South Pentecost have probably been doing for at least a couple thousand years. Seeing the dives made me very glad I took part in the trip to go see this. After the dives we ventured down to see some custom dancing that the schoolchildren put on. Liz went and checked out them practicing the day before the cruise boat came and snapped this cool shot of a girl in her coconut husk hat:
(Here’s the kids dancing on the day of the event)
The dance was a lot of foot stamping in lines of children choreographed to move in and out of each other all while a man in custom dress (far right in picture) is keeping time with a wooden tam tam. It was cool to watch, especially when watching the bold colors that the dancers were wearing move in and out of the lines.
By about 1pm all the tourists were now in the water, and the quiet beach we had rested looked a little like Fourth of July in a San Diego beach so most of us found other things to do. Some went to go check out the amazing water taro gardens. Liz, Chris, and I all went down to a point down the way to go snorkel and check out a submerged propeller engine from a WWII fighter plane. It was cool to check out and we also saw the hull of a small ship that had been sunk there about 20 years ago. What really took us for a loop though came when we were walking out to the point and one of the local guys pointed out the inscription that Captain Cook had made in a boulder in the 1700s during his exploratory visits in the South Pacific (sorry no picture, but I’ll try to get the pic from Liz as she took it on her camera). How cool is that?
The following day we all hired a truck to take us to a village that had a large waterfall nearby. So for the better part of the day we hung out in the pools below a 150ft waterfall and jumped off nearby rocks into the pools.
(The Waterfall)In the afternoon we chilled out on a nearby beach, and then headed back to Pangi in the early evening. That night we made some good Indian food from some sauce packets we bought in Vila and later had a camp fire with S'mores and all.
Poinkros Village:
The next day we hired a boat to take us to Poinkros village in the far South of Pentecost. This village is also occupied by a Peace Corps volunteer, Lauren, but she too was still in Vila tying up work stuff. She said we could use her house to crash, and Erica had been there before and knew some of the villagers. There is no truck road to get there, and we heard that traveling along the walking trail is not a good idea with heavy packs. So we set out by sea, and Man! It was rough out there that day. We were just in a little fiberglass boat and there were definitely some white knuckle moments as some of the large swells really rocked the boat. Two hours later we made it to Poinkros in one piece, and greeted the villagers on the beach. We then charged uphill as the entire village is built on steep, rolling hills. This village layout owing to a big tsunami that hit them early in this decade and did a lot of damage to their previous village, centered more on flat land.
(Here’s a picture showing some of the terrain of Poinkros village)After we got our tents set up in Lauren’s yard and had settled in, we enjoyed a beautiful sunset straight out of Tales from the South Pacific with purples and pinks and oranges mixed in a sky with swaying coconut trees and the rugged Pentecost coastline in the foreground and the profile of Ambrym a ways in the distance.
(The Poinkros sunset)After taking in the great sunset some of us headed down to the nakamal for some kava. We, who went were treated to a really cool, different kava ceremony where they showed us how they used to use coral stone to grind the kava. Even the new style that they use, ramming the kava in a cylinder, is different than the meat grinders that they use on Efate and Pele so that was exciting to watch and take part in. And the way they served the kava was really cool too, as about 8 men would be working the kava, each on their own small table, and only one man would be the one that would make shells for you during the night. The kava was clean tasting and strong, the nakamal conversation was great, and we all sat back stoned and enjoying our new surrounds.
The following day some of us went down to the playing field to work off the kava from the night before. We borrowed a tennis ball from the school, and I asked a local guy, Moses, Lauren’s host papa, to help me find a good straight stick to use as a bat. We found one easily, tapered it a bit at the end for a handle, and then I taught some of the local guys how to play Over-The-Line, an old San Diego favorite that is like a 3 on 3 way of playing baseball. It wasn’t long before more guys showed up, and we had enough to play reduced squad baseball. They picked up the game quickly and we all had a great time playing ball for a couple hours.
We broke for lunch then set out to a nice river spot that heads out towards the gardens of Poinkros. To get there we took the bush route up and down hills for a while and over some creek crossings
(Here’s Bridgett and Erica (behind) crossing over a creek crossing that was a balance beam constructed by a coconut palm trunk)After going through some cool garden areas we arrived at our river spot that had plenty of cool places to jump off ledges and into the fresh water pool. One of the local guys showed us how they use places like this to train for the nagol.
(Poinkros man demonstrating the nagol dive form)After a nice day at the river we followed the river to its nearby mouth, meeting up with some mamas along the way. Moses explained that they had just come from a 3hrs walk in from their gardens and that this is pretty normal. You could see that this was indeed somewhat of a routine by looking at the mamas’ calf muscles. Damn! One of the mamas was straight ripped!
(A picture of the mamas walking over the estuary area where the river meets the sea)
(A picture of the river as seen from the beach)That evening we had another round of good kava at the nakamal and hung out for a while at Lauren’s place before nodding off. The next morning we said our goodbyes to the great people of Poinkros and departed again by boat, but this time, thankfully, with much calmer seas.
Back in Pangi and the Water Taro Gardens:
When we got back to Pangi there was another cruise boat in for the nagol. I guess they get about 6 per year. We hung around the village, and then hatched the scheme to trade our money to tourists for beer at their tent near the wharf. The tourist boat sold beer and soda but only on the swipey card system for boat patrons. So we, cold beer starved volunteers, traded our vatu for Australian dollars at some of the donation booths and then traded Aus dollars for beer. The plan worked brilliantly and I even had a nice tourist buy me a beer.
Nearby, the string band was getting fired up so we, the volunteers, got our string bang boogey on, and tried to get villagers to dance, but could only get a few in on the action. Then we tried to get the tourists that were waiting in line to get on the ferry boats dancing. We had limited success, but some started dancing, and we were having a good time, and that’s what’s important.
That evening we were going to have a Mexican food night (once again we brought some supplies from Vila), and we made tacos from fresh fish and freshwater prawns caught that day. I was in heaven, and then Liz rolled out a cake she had made for me for my birthday and a bottle of Tequila, Oh My! My birthday was the next day, but we would be on the Fresh Cargo all day so the celebration was set for the night before. And what a great celebration too: good friends, Mexican food, tasty REAL cake, and a bottle of tequila. It was a great cap to an even greater trip.
The next morning Tim and I went to go check out the water gardens before we left. I had heard such adjectives as “majestic” being used by the volunteers who had seen them earlier in the week so I figured I had to fit them in for a peek. We walked for about ten minutes before we reached the gardens and they were truly amazing. The villagers have dammed up and diverted flows so the river flows slowly through the steppe-style, hydroponically grown taro. The steppes and dams are all built of smallish stones and the villagers say they have to reconstruct them after big flows or floods of the river. The benefit though, is no weeding as the water is always running and weeds cannot grow in the slowly moving water. The gardens are really big and the local engineering to make the gardens flow right is damn impressive (no pun intended).
(the river with the water taro steppes on either side)
(one of the dams for the garden)As we were walking along local guys offered to show us how they harvest the water taro and use the stalk directly as the planting for the next crop.
(here’s the guys a few steppes up from where the shot was taken. It’s hard to see the stone wall steppes through the vegetation of the taro plants)Going Home and Easter:
The same day that Tim and I checked out the water gardens, the gang that was left (most of us as some had dropped off earlier in the week and Liz was flying back to Ambae) boarded the Fresh Cargo after waiting over 10hrs for the damn thing (We were just about to give up on it when we saw it’s lights coming shore). The seas were even rougher than before and I got a weird fever in the middle of the trip and ended up emptying my lunch into the sea. The good news was I felt great after that. We endured another 13hr trip and made it back to Vila early Easter morning.
While on the boat we made a plan to have an Easter dinner at a PC volunteer, Evan’s house in Vila, and once we got ashore we arranged the particulars and bought the food so we could lounge poolside in the early afternoon at a local resort in order to get our energy back that the boat drained from us. That evening we had a great Easter dinner complete with an Easter egg piñata game at night.
So yeah, that’s about it. I realize that this is a pretty long blog this time but it was a fantastic trip and there was a lot to write about.
