Sunday, November 7, 2010,
Our eight weeks of training is over and I am now a Peace Corps volunteer. Let's begin and the beginning. My group of 41 trainees left Los Angeles on September 10 and arrived in Port Villa, Vanuatu on September 12, having missed the 11th when flying over the international dateline. After a warm (literally) welcome, we were shuffled off to a IDS camp in the nearby town of Pango on the edge of Port Villa. There, we lived barracks style for a week while attending the first of what would become many classes, workshops, and training sessions. That's also when my metabolism started to kick in to high gear, but more on that latter.
After a week at the IDS camp facilities, Group 23, as we're called, was sent to training villages in North Efate. The five villages were about as far from Port Villa as you can get while staying on the same island. They included the well established Paunangisu and Epau as well as the small and seemingly more distant Ekipe as well as Takara A and my village, the smaller, newer encampment of Takara B. Only 5 of our group of 41 were sent to Takara B and we had a great time of it. Under the tutelage of George, our language instructor from Ambae, and with the help of my host parents Thomas and Fatima, I was able to learn a good deal about the culture and custom of Vanuatu as well as pick up a significant amount of Bislama.
The stories we five have from Takara B could fill a few pages by themselves. Just a few worth mentioning include the time when we became surprise guests of honor at the opening of the new road-side market and the official renaming of the village to Natakoma Komuniti. After repeated suggestions from the villagers, we took a small boat over to the nearby island of Emau, where the residents of the Takaras hail from originally. Then there was the time Andrew, my Mama, Chief Sam, and I climbed nearby Quinn Hill overlooking the whole area so that we could view the remnants of the old US military installation on top. It was an excellent place to put a “bigfalla musket” to shoot at approaching ships, as we learned from the chief. Of course, Andrew and I were referred to by the kustom names we had received on our second week in the village. He is Caul Fal (New Man) while I'm Tai Wia (Good Brother).
In between lessons and on the weekends, we tried to learn as much as we could from the villagers. I think I have a handle of taro and yam growing and look forward to making my own garden at my new site. Cleaning clothes with a basin of soapy water, a board, and a stiff brush is a time consuming task that I'll just have to get used to. I've drank enough kava now to know I should avoid it and I think I have good handle on how it's made.
The kava bars in the village cut the root and grind it in a mince meet grinder before adding the water and squeezing it, while the folks on Tanna used a noticeably different approach. At about week 5, all the trainees were sent on host-volunteer visits on different islands where we could see how a current volunteer lived and worked. I was set to go to Tanna with one other business volunteer, but he was medically separated just before so it was just me with Arthur in Middle Bush, Tanna followed by a day with Marion in Lenekel, Tanna. In addition to kustom dancing until dawn, roasting coffee in a metal drum, collected and eating wild pumkin, chasing horses in a truck, bathing in a waterfall, inspecting water pumps, chewing on whole vanilla beans, and eating, eating, eating, I was treated to some homebrew kava, Tanna style. First, the adult men (far away from the women who are forbidden from participating) chew the peeled kava root for a long time and spit the softened mush onto banana leaves. Next you have to get a boy. On Tanna, the men are forbidden from squeezing coconut shavings or kava so a boy must do it for you. The watered, squeezed kava juice was enough to fill four small bowls. We didn't have actual coconut shells this time. That stuff really makes the evening cicadas seem like a racket.
Back in Natakoma, we prepared to go to our new sites and say our goodbyes to our host village. The last night in the village got more emotional than we were prepared for. The village mamas had prepared a big “lask kakae” feast for everyone. Speeches were made and gifts given and the slightly formal manner of the islands. My fellow trainees more or less “volunteered” me to make a little speech on our behalf and then the hand shakes, hugs, and crying began.
The next morning we were off to Port Villa where I am now, preparing to go to site. 39 of us will be heading out, having lost one more person who I am led to believe quit for here own reasons. Swearing in last Thursday, was a great even from what I've been told. I was there, sworn in, and am now a fully fledged volunteer, but I was so sick that I wasn't really concentrating much on the speeches and presentations. Bit of a shame to, as I was supposed to give the big Bislama speech on behalf of our class, but was unable to. I'm glad I got to attend. I'm fine now. It was just another weird bug in a long list of ailments I've had here. They come and go fast.
So, here's the big news. On Wednesday, I'm going to the island of Epi. I will be living in a thatched roof house in the village of Alek near Rovo Bay. My job is to work with a few counterparts in the Shefa Provincial council to conduct community surveys and assessments on the island as well as help build the business capacity of the people in the area as well as the council itself. Yes, it's a bit vague, but most of the positions are. I'm a frontier capitalist riding through the territories with a fistful of ideas, squaring off with any and all comers who want help.
For those wondering about creature comforts: I will be growing a garden, but buying localing grown food until that comes in. There is no electricity in my village, but there usually is in Lamon Bay, a one and a half hour walk North. There is a potable water tap close to my little house. My host parents, whom I believe are in their thirties live nearby. My “smol haos” is seperate and bucket showers will continue to be the norm. I bough a small gas stove for about 9,000 Vatu ($90) and will be cooking with gas when I don't want to collect firewood. Lastly, I guess I'll be eating a lot of the local peanuts and pumpkins.
More to Come.
- Daniel
