It’s hard to describe our feelings.  Two weeks ago we were merrily living out our tour with Peace Corps in Lolowai. Beth and I had both talked about how comfortable we were feeling in the community.  We talked positively about how work was going and how she had developed her program for our remaining time in Ambae.  The day she presented her program to the provincial health manager and to the health promotion officer is the day I was also told that because of my bad back that Peace Corps was giving us the boot. It came as a real shock to both of us.

The above is as far as I made it writing this final entry.  I just couldn’t figure out what to say and now it is five weeks later, and after a step down trip to New Zealand for two weeks we are home to cold (for us) Newport but happily in the embrace of family and friends.  We don’t regret our time with Peace Corps, we leave it only with the regret that we weren’t able to finish.  It was a great experience living in another culture even though we felt (perceived?) great hardships at times. We look forward to staying home a while and whether this was our final adventure or just another in a series we will just have to wait and see.  It’s good to be home.  It’s great to have made friends of a wonderful people,friends of other Peace Corps volunteers who certainly kept us feeling young (sometimes old too but we ignore that), and the Peace Corps staff that was great to us especially as we were preparing to leave.

So that’s it for now.  A couple of photos of the days before our departure, a few from NZ which I recommend to anyone who wants a great holiday with lots to do and great scenery. Coincidentally, my camera fell into a glacial spring and drowned so there are no photos after that.  A silly irony I suppose.

I don’t feel like writing much more.  Thanks for all who gave us support while we were gone. It was much needed and much appreciated and we wouldn’t begin to know how to repay it.

Final kakae preparation

Come to wish us well

Mathias - my counterpart

Just before boarding to leave forever?

8 hours after we leave Vanuatu - park in Medford New Zealand - snow

More snow - just couldn't adjust that quickly

Southern Alps

Lake Tekapo and the Southern Alps

Just to prove I was at Lake Tekapo too

Little Church in Lake Tekapo

A view on the way to Milford Sound

Milford Sound - Hobbit land

Thanks

13 September 2010

It’s not our 1^st year anniversary as a Peace Corps Volunteer but it is our 1^st anniversary of being in the Peace Corps, the first year anniversary of having arrived in Vanuatu, the first year anniversary of being away from the U.S., Newport, our home, family and friends.  This is a milestone, a monument to perseverance for us both in that it seems we’ve spent half our days, and I mean that without exaggeration, wishing we were home, wondering what we are doing here, worrying that we aren’t accomplishing anything, fretting that we are doing more damage than good, actually.  We realize now that we’ll never be fluent in Bislama, probably the easiest of foreign languages to learn.

On the other hand we’ve learned to live without things and realized we didn’t need them in the first place.  What were once necessities are now relegated to the closet of luxury items, and it’s not that we don’t want or even crave some of them, only that we accept now they are not essential to living, actually living quite well.  The rub is that it is such different living.

Bucket baths are common, hot showers are indeed a luxury, but when given the opportunity have a Wow effect.  Open pit toilets are common, we enjoy the luxury of a flush toilet if the water is on, otherwise it’s flush with a bucket.  We have the luxury of electricity three hours a day, but for the first three months we lived in a place without electricity.  We both did well without it and sometimes comment on how much simpler life was without it.  No worrying about charging phones, ipods or computers.  You worried only that the lantern had kerosene and you had a few hours life left in the flashlight, enough to get you through the night with a little reading or writing time.  We have a gas cook top, a luxury, one I must say we enjoy without regret to those days when we had a bush kitchen where an open wood fire had to be started just to boil water.  Living with mosquitoes, eye flies, ants, wasps, huge roaches, huge spiders, and geckos is reduced to a mere annoyance, though Beth impulsively has to kill spiders and I the same with the roaches.

We enjoy the sometimes absolute quiet, when even the chickens and dogs are sleeping, and the sea is so calm the waves make no sound coming to shore. Even a whisper of a breeze is heard as a blowing gale.  The night is so dark that from inside our bedroom the stars, all billions and billions of them collectively create a soft glow; and, when it is cloudy, the darkness is so complete that I have to wiggle my fingers or toes to know they are still where my brain thinks they should be.

For the moment we live in a house that overlooks a large lagoon and when the occasional sailboat comes inside I imagine they must think the island mostly unoccupied.  Except for a shack or two or one of a couple of small brick buildings visible on the shore, or maybe the telltale sign of smoke from a bush kitchen the sailors wouldn’t see that buried beneath the bush only a few yards from shore are perhaps a hundred bush houses. The view from the water is of pristine untouched land. Largely it’s true.   From our vantage we enjoy every morning with a pot (thanks to my brother John for the coffee press that is the envy of every Peace Corps volunteer) of coffee and a view that Sheraton Hotels would perhaps charge $1000 a night for a room, and would if it could. It’s just that it’s so far away from everything nobody comes here; lucky for the people here there is no profit yet in despoiling this island.

Life at times can be and is still frustrating.  We often, but not as often as before but more than it will be six months from now, forget the slow deliberate pace of the Ni-Van and rush to do this or that, only to realize that it is only us that are in a hurry, and the Ni-Van don’t really care that whatever it is we are doing gets done today or tomorrow or later. It’s the island way.  What’s wrong with that?  I often ponder that it’s us “western” civilized peoples who have missed the whole point of living.  Just because I can’t adapt doesn’t mean they have it wrong.

Ni-Van life is uncomplicated, and but for the inevitable onslaught of the western world (for it is in the western world’s DNA to conquer) that I fear will one day completely corrupt and denude the culture of the people, life would remain this way for the indefinite future as it has for the several thousand years they have occupied these islands.

Two days ago, I went on a small bush walk with Stephen, a local boy of maybe ten.  We had only our bush knives, mine was ornamental only for in the end I didn’t use it but maybe to ineffectively and unnecessarily whack  a weed or two.  Stephen’s bush knife on the other hand was used to break open and extract navale (nuts), cut down green coconuts from a tree, efficiently clear a path to walk, and if we wanted or needed to, he would have cut down a banana tree, got us some passion fruit, cut open sugar cane for a sweet treat, or bamboo for fresh water all of which were there on our walk.  He knows these things at age 10.  He would mostly certainly be able to live in the bush.  He doesn’t need me or any other foreigner to survive well.  This is true of all Ni-Van.

This morning, as I sit here writing this before I leave for my two minute walk to work, I have witnessed yet another spectacular sunrise from behind my house that lights up the cliffs on the other side of the lagoon.  In a few minutes, Miswyn, the secretary at the health office where I work and who lives in a house just a few yards behind ours, will walk by and she will greet us, Moning Beth!  Moning Ed!  She will amble through slowly, stoop to pick up a fresh frangipani flower from beneath its tree that sits within feet of our veranda, and fragrant as it is beautiful (the country did right by making it the national flower) she will put it to her nose and inhale the beauty then adorn it in her hair. She bothers to enjoy the moment.

Last Wednesday, we went to an opening ceremony for new dispensary to open in Vandue, a village about 1 ½ hours drive from here.  It was an all day affair and though only about 5 to 6 kilometers away the trip was very slow on the rough roads endemic to this island. This was my first trip to North Ambae. Vandue sits atop a hill looking west over the Coral Sea.  I could see forever. The day was filled with speeches, prayers, congratulations and thank you’s.  The village is Seventh Day Adventist, and as is typical with most villages, they tend to affiliate with the church whose missionary who got to them first.  They are ardent believers. Always there is an abundance of island food.  As we arrived they were butchering a calf that by the time lunch was served had been reduced to a stew mixed with curry, various vegetables and served over rice, with laplap, sides of cucumbers and peanut butter bread, with store bought cookies and cake for dessert.  This menu is repeated almost without variation at all ceremonies.  The cuisine here is somewhat lacking.

Since the ceremony was health related Beth gave a short speech on cervical cancer and after spent the remaining afternoon talking with smaller groups of women, and some men.  Her Bislama may not be expert but she communicates very well in her fashion; even men were paying attention.  Our group of 6, two nurses, two section staff, the driver, Beth and I were the only ones to go to the village but we had twice as many when we returned.  That’s always the case with trucks, they pick up anyone along the way, and someone always wants to go Lolowai, it’s the big city.

We were loaded with corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, a new mat, laplap and more.  On the way back we passed a small group of three young mothers all toting babies.  The truck stopped, one of the nurses got out and, always being ready for anything, produced a cold box with vaccines, some needles and records of inoculation and proceeded then and there to give inoculations. She had their records so as to not improperly give the wrong vaccine.  I found it remarkably efficient that randomly, in the middle of the bush she was prepared to dispensed medicine.  This subtle efficiency just takes time to realize sometimes.

While inoculations were going on, some of the passengers drifted into the bush and quickly returned with armfuls of mandarins and distributed to all who wanted; everyone “storied” (chatted), there was no worry of when we would get back, or that we would be late. There really is no “being late.” These delays are expected.  Life is not in a hurry, we would get back sometime and that was good enough.  It was a somewhat poignant moment as I realized life here maybe has something over on my lifestyle.

So, in my best fashion, this is all I can do to demonstrate what a year in another culture can do.  I must still live with myself but perhaps something here has had some subtle effect on me after all.

When Beth and I went to Pentecost Island for HIV/STI followup for Peace Corps we used one of our days to go to the primary school in Melsisi.  Beth spoke on clean habits and I demonstrated a “tippy tap”, a water bottle modified to be a fun handwashing tool.  We spoke to grades 4, 5 and 6.

The day we went to Vandue for the dispensary opening, when we got there the ceremony wasn’t ready to start to Stephen, the driver, Ken, the Malaria head of section, and I decided to “spel” a little in the shade.

I’m certain this is a recurring scene especially among Peace Corps volunteers but it looked too much like a prayer flag not to call it one, instead of being underwear on the wire.

Jerry and Linda.  They had arrived in Vila and we were able to meet them at the airport.  Really nice, and I hoped they enjoyed the visit to Vanuatu.  They seemed to really enjoy the snorkeling and scuba diving to the U.S.S. Coolidge.  Jerry was impressed with the variety of fish, the reef and just about everything under the water.  High praise because I was worried with his experience it might be otherwise.  Here we met Jim and Linda when we were in Santo.  They are two volunteers with VSA from New Zealand and we get on real well with them.  They sometimes bring sanity to our insane circumstances.  We are at Deco Stop hotel just before going to dinner at the really good French restaurant in Luganville.

This is a regrettable opportunity missed.  Since Jerry and Linda were here only two full days we didn’t bother to go to our home village in Lovunivili.  It would have been an entire day for a couple hour visit.  So my host Momma, Estella, came down out of the mountains the day they were leaving just to greet them at the airport, and give them gifts of salusalus (flower lais) and woven baskets.  I forgot sometimes how much these people go out of their way to make us feel welcome. This is where I socially don’t quite get it yet.

The four of us after snorkeling at Million Dollar Point. Nice day.

Beth facilitated a workshop for the young females in Lolowai.  Three Sundays in a row.  She and Celia, a very dynamic woman who runs a restaurant here, ran a very good program.   This is only part of the contingent who attended and most of the older girls were not in this picture.

Donnie, the rooster.  Still alive and driving me nuts.

This is Billy Delancey, a PC volunteer in Vandue, receiving his ceremonial gifts of a mat and a big slab of laplap (that’s what’s gift wrapped in the banana leaves.  This is a very common thank you gift and in this case was gratitude for his work on the dispensary project.

This is the Catholic church on Melsisi and I only show it here because it’s the largest (and it’s huge) church in all of Vanuatu yet it is on  one of the remotest islands.   It’s a French speaking area so we had difficulty with the language and had to rely on Bislama (never a good idea) to communicate.  Two nuns, Sister Anne and Sister Agnes(?) run the place.  There is a Ni-Van priest too but he seemed to mostly be a pompous ass whereas the nuns were great.  We spent three nights in the nunnery they use some of the rooms as a guest house.  I fear all the holy ghosts within the place didn’t have much affect on me, or thought what’s the use. Still we had a really good time and were well taken care of by Eugene Choi, the Peace Corps volunteer who works at the school.

I’m not going to write too much on this one but post photos of Maggie’s trip to Vanuatu.  It was great, great, great having her here as I hope the photos show.  We’re back to Ambae this morning and will not likely return to Vila until October though we anticipate going to Santo in early September.

This is Maggie when she arrived.  She’s crying but we weren’t sure it was from seeing us or the miserable plane ride she had suffered through.  In the background are friends of ours from New Zealand, Jim and Linda, who had just arrived on the same flight.

This is the morning after she arrived.  A little ragged but enjoying the coffee and the view.

Maggie and Beth at Million Dollar Point after snorkeling.  Saw lots of WW II stuff but most of it had rusted away, but we saw some really big weaponry, tanks, jeeps, scuttled boats, etc.

Maggie's new friends

These are Maggie’s new friends.  She was treated like royalty by Celia, Margaret and Joyce.

Dinner at Joyce's

This is Joyce’s restaurant.  It seats 4 people so it was a packed house this night.  Peace Corps volunteer, Sandy Su, happened to be in town and she joined us. Sandy leaves in a couple of weeks and I understand she will re-up as a volunteer in China.

Me and Maggie gagging down a shell of kava

Actually, I think Maggie started developing a fondness for the stuff.  It has a very interesting effect and is ubiquitous, is the main social drink in Vanuatu and is used ceremonially. Finally, a picture of her and me, also at Million Dollar Point.Maggie and I visited the school in our former village of Lovunvilli up in the mountains.  She was asked and gladly taught a class and visited several others.  The dog is a second grader but was monitoring this class.

That’s it for now.

Photos are uploaded at the end to the extent I can.

 April ____, 2010 Why I haven’t blogged in so long? It’s because I wasn’t really doing anything but waiting in Vila while I was on a phantom sick leave. It was not feigned or nonexistent, phantom is what the right word is, at least for me. For all the world I look like a pretty healthy guy but from the inside my vertebrae are rather like paisley, kind of curly the wrong way. So I got a free trip to Australia out of it mainly to get an MRI. There are no MRI’s in Vanuatu, and I don’t know if it’s a lack of money to buy one or that to power one up might cause a brownout in Vila. Either way, we were able to spend 8 days in Brisbane. We didn’t travel outside the city such as going to the Great Barrier Reef or the Gold Coast, or the interior but we were able to visit and tour the very nice but expensive city. But, this blog wasn’t intended to be about me or Australia for that matter. It’s about….. not sure, but I know it includes Vanuatu.

When we got back to our island of Ambae, Peace Corps made us move from our village up in the mountains to Lolowai, the main city (really just a large village of a couple of hundred people) on East Ambae. So now instead of a 2-1/2 hour walk or 45 minute truck ride, I have 2-1/2 minute walk to work from our temporary housing. Temporary may mean we stay there the rest of our time in Vanuatu, or not, it’s just a matter if they get a doctor to come and reside on this island. Our temporary home is the Dr.’s house. Here is the great view of the lagoon from our house. Nothing short of spectacular on the scenery end of this place, though the housing, while the nicest place on East Ambae is somewhat wanting in certain types of amenities. Well, to be accurate all amenities.

I finally have a bicycle. It’s a GT Mountain bike, so it’s good quality. On this island only the pikinini (children) ride bikes, usually a cheap Chinese variety that tend to break down quickly and easily. So my bike is considered “flas” (flashy), with all the gears and cables that actually work. It’s a wander to me why bikes aren’t used more around here since the terrain, while hilly at times, make it easier and certainly more pleasant to get around. Since people spend a good part of their days walking it would be a great alternative. Beth and I are finally settling down in our new home – I think. You would think after almost 8 months acclimating would have come sooner but in reality, living in this other worldly place takes a lot of adjustments that kept us off guard, especially considering the distance between home and work that we did have.

We are finally starting to drift out of our self inflicted sequestration at home. Up to now home is what we craved after a day at work where we butchered the language or culturally stepped on toes or felt like we were intruding in the locals’ lives. These gains are small but significant to us. For instance, the Sunday before last, instead of lounging around the house we decided to walk to the beach in Saratamata, normally about a half hour walk on the main road. This time we took the bush road over the hills surrounding Lolowai, affording some great vistas of the lagoon and ocean. Then we walked down the other side through the jungle to the beach where we snorkeled in some very nice coral reefs, saw colorful fish after which we laid on our mat, read books and generally watched children play in the surf. Occasionally a dugout canoe would drift by but other than that there were no boats or noises of any kind to interrupt our view of our neighboring island of Maewo. Pretty nice afternoon. The weekend before that, me and about 6-7 small local boys took me over the cliff surrounding the village to a large, long beach on the other side. It’s completely secluded because it is so difficult to get to. It is about a half mile long and is completely surrounded by cliffs that jut out into the ocean on each end. So the only way to get there is by climbing down the soft side of a cliff or by canoe. We were the only ones there, and mostly I watched as the boys jumped from cliffs into the water, search for turtle eggs, go into the bush to spook out the flying fox (large bats). I had my swimming goggles with me and they loved using them. The coral here was pristine but I didn’t venture too far out.

And yesterday, this past Sunday, Beth managed to get herself invited to go to services at the Jehovah’s Witness church near the airport. Between the service and the kakae (meal) after she was gone for close to 6 hours. I was beginning to wander if I would have to an intervention to get her back. I managed not to go to church, rather, I went on my first exploratory and recreational ride on the mountain bike. I went on bush roads (that is all there is here) where I had no idea where I was going. What started out as a 1 hour ride turned into 3 hours, and thinking the whole time I wasn’t lost, I was. When I realized I was lost, it was close to midday so even the sun was no help in telling me which direction I was going. So on I rode thinking I was heading northeast and back towards my village when in fact I was heading southwest on the opposite side of the island. As it turned out I probably went around about a fifth of the island. It kind of made it feel small, but with that being said, it gives me the confidence to try to circumnavigate the island one day soon, something I’ve been thinking about since I got the bike. Most of the trip will be coastal dirt road but there are plenty of places where there are no roads and I will have to hike. But it could be fun (operative word being could).

Since we’ve moved down to Lolowai, our house has quickly become a popular stop off point for other Peace Corps volunteers who are passing through. Our house is just above the place where small boats from the other nearby islands come to drop off passengers who are going to the airport. Last Friday, Justine, a volunteer on Maewo came over on a boat and spent a couple of hours with us before heading to the airport. Two hours later she returned saying her plane had been overloaded and had no seat for her. So the next flight not being until Sunday morning we ended up spending a very pleasant weekend with her. Justine is finishing up her two years service in June so it was fun to talk with her about her feelings about her time here, her thoughts about leaving, her future plans, etc. In a way we were jealous because, even though we are settling in nicely, it brought feelings of homesickness back. Not to worry though, if we can’t go home, we are having “home” brought to us.

This week we’re having friends visit us from South Africa, friends originally from home in Dry Ridge, Kentucky. In June, our daughter Maggie is coming to visit us for two weeks, and we think sometime a little later our son, Tyler, will come visit us. That’s in addition to others in my family who have talked about coming but so far nothing has developed, but we’re hoping. A couple of weeks ago, Beth, after having returned from doing a workshop with a couple of other volunteers on North Ambae, went into a terrible funk. She had always been the sunny side of our relationship and it was not going well when she gets a disposition like mine. She had been that way for a couple of weeks actually. Too, she was having violent dreams where she’d kill people and aside from worrying about getting caught, she said she was pretty remorseless and indiscriminate in whom she’d murder. For reasons that should be obvious, I was becoming a bit concerned. Sleeping with her and her guilt free murderous rampages was slightly disconcerting to me on a visceral level. But before the axe fell so to speak, she figured out that it was her malaria medicine (it is well known for having these side effects) that was causing both of these symptoms. So she switched to my medication (a daily dose instead of her weekly dose) and within a week, all was back to normal….except she keeps walking around with this machete in her hand and a snidely grin on her face.

Beth has started finding her niche as well. Since moving down she has found herself going to schools and giving classes on female health issues. At the request of a volunteer from New Zealand who is teaching hospitality at a local rural training center, she is giving a class every week for a month. Too, she is working with the nurses at the hospital and going with them when they go to schools and villages when they are doing immunizations and physicals, also giving talks. She seems to like it very much though the trips are inconsistent and often cancelled at the last minute, such as when the truck is broken or has no fuel, or like today, the rains washed the road out to the village they were going.

Another blog entry from ED April 21, 2010

I had an interesting day yesterday. When I went to work in the morning I had forgotten that the provincial health minister and the nurse in charge had decided to visit a dispensary on the south part of the island, Sakau. A dispensary is a medical treatment clinic staffed by a nurse and a nurse aid, and is managed at the local level by a community health committee. Anyway, they were having management issues and suspicions of misuse of property. I invited myself to go along and as it turned out it was an informative meeting for me in terms of getting a perspective on attitudes and how situations are handled. In turned into an all day trip. We left at 9:30 and the first half hour of the trip was along road I am familiar and, for Ambae the road is in pretty good shape. Our hired driver, Simeon, drove us there in his late 1980’s Toyota pickup truck, explaining the regardless of how bad it looked (it did) it always started and moved, thus it was declared as dependable transportation. Solidly fortified by this information, off we went but after about 20 minutes he stopped, rooted around in a mess of tools behind his seat and came out with a tire iron stating that he felt the rear wheel coming loose. Indeed, he was right. Four of the six lug nuts were barely holding the wheel on. There probably would have 6 lug nuts loose except that there were only four lug nuts to begin with, the other two bolts had been sheered off some time ago, but he didn’t seem worried.

With that minor housekeeping measure taken care of we went off again. We knew we had left East Ambae when we came upon a fence across the road, for which we had to jump out and dismantle, then let the truck go through and then reassemble it (we had to do this 6 times on the way there). From there on we were on much worse road and progress was at a much slower rate. Small rivers had to be crossed at the bottom of steep ravines after which of course we had to climb the other side, only to repeat this process every three or four minutes. After about two hours we stopped in the middle of one of these rivers so the driver could refill the truck’s radiator that was complaining badly and belching steam. My confidence in the driver’s statement about the reliability of the truck was waning but no one else seemed to be too concerned, and I can say that it provided me a measure of comfort. After all, the worst that could happen is that we’d have to walk, something that in terms of time would not have been appreciably slower than the truck was moving.

As we were nearing the village of Sakau, our destination, we came upon a particularly steep rise out of a ravine, and as it had been raining lightly off and on but apparently hard enough to wash out part of the road. I have learned since being here that these 4 wheel drive trucks can scale just about any hill but our driver thought this one had too big a rut in it that he felt he would bottom out and get stuck. For the next 15 minutes he dug dirt out of the hillside to fill in the rut, as we looked on from our perch in the bed of the pickup truck. Conveniently he had a shovel for just such an occasion, and from his attitude this was just another everyday occurrence. Finally after close to three hours we arrived in Sakau. We ate local island food and then had a meeting with the nurse and the health committee for about 1 ½ hours, after which we were off again on our return trip. On our way back much of the same as on the trip down. This time we had to stop for water twice for the radiator, and another time we had to stop for 15 minutes or so because the truck had slide sideways in the mud just at a point where a fallen tree limb was sticking up on the side of the road. The limb became lodged into the front wheel well, ripping of part of the bumper, the front lights and part of the fender. Yet another tool was produced, a machete and the driver cut away the log and as he spun to get out of the mud, with me and others pushing and up to our knees in the mud the truck slid right even more and the taillight and fender were summarily smashed. But we were out and I must say the driver seemed completely nonplussed by all the damage. I suppose being a 1980’s truck, already in bad shape, I’m guessing the sum total of damage was maybe 15 bucks.

Anyway, a little after 5 o’clock we returned back to Lolowai none worse for the wear. Interesting fact is when I asked the driver how much distance we had driven today, he said 12 kilometers each way, a total of 24 kilometers in close up to 6 hours of travel time. The hospital manager asked me how long it would take to go that distance on American roads I told him about 10 minutes each way. He just smiled and shook his head. So did I.

Ed’s blog yet again. May 12, 2010

We are in Vila and have been here for two weeks. Last week we stayed at a remote church resort that was rustic by American standards but only twenty minutes outside of Vila. We had no electricity, certainly no internet, and spotty phone service. There we attended an HIV workshop with some village health workers brought in from other islands. Village health workers are people within a village who are minimally trained to provide very baseline medical care. A couple of these workers had never been off there island or had never been to Vila, and these were not young people by any means. Imagine living on a small island your entire life and then all of a sudden finding yourself flying in a plane and going to the city with cars, electricity, paved streets, running water, and certainly a much less modest lifestyle. It had to be overwhelming.

The entire group consisted of about 30 village aid workers and 15 PC volunteers. It went well. This week we’ve been in the city for a Peace Corps training session, and, this past week marked our 6 month service date. It’s hard to believe we are one-fourth of the way through our service. And counting our training time we’ve been in Vanuatu for 8 months.

Just before this workshop and training started we happily played tourists with Brian and Annphia, friends of ours who came to visit from South Africa. They spent a couple of days on our island after which we spent some great days touring in Santo where we snorkeled, kayaked, and hiked the Millennium Cave walk in the interior of the island. This was the highlight of the trip. The Millennium Cave is a large, high and fairly long cave that has a river through it and to hike it we basically had wade and portage down this river. It was first discovered in 2000 which gives an indication of just how remote this place is. Before entering the cave our guide painted our faces which was necessary to insure our safe passage through it. It was probably touristy schtick but it made for good fun. After the cave, we rode little kiddy inflatable rings down a slot canyon that had waterfalls coming from the rock walls, a couple of places where we could do small cliff jumping and there was one place you looked up and saw a bamboo bridge a couple of hundred feet up that crossed from one side of the canyon to the other. In several places where there were rapids we had to do some rock scaling to get around. To top off the long day, we had to climb a cascading waterfall to get out of this deep canyon. Really spectacular. Felt like we were in an Indiana Jones movie.

 A few days later we flew to Tanna where we stayed in grass huts on the ocean for two days. The day we arrived we went up to Mt. Yasur, the most active volcano in Vanuatu and relatively easy to get to. It’s a two hour truck ride that winds up and around the mountain, and we drove through ash plains (a desert looking place where all the volcanic ash falls after the volcano belches it out) and drove within a few minutes walk from the top. We were not disappointed when we arrived and this evening the volcano was particularly active. About 1 -2 times every minute it would belch out huge clouds of ash along with this brilliant hot lava. The wind was blowing away from us so we weren’t affected by the ash, but we were close enough to feel the heat, though it was very faint. Really quite impressive. After our trip to Tanna, we flew to Vila where we stayed but did quite a bit of snorkeling and went to another waterfall nearby. All in all it was a huge success of a holiday/vacation.

Millennium cave entrance

 Reason: It’s been no secret that when I came here I had had some low back issues, but they were not bothering me and they were not inhibiting me in any way. But, and apparently because of the long walks and/or rough truck rides that I have been taking everyday going to and from my place of work (2 ½ – 3 hours walk one way or a 45 minute truck ride) it has been aggravating my back. Since I was coming to Vila anyway I decided to get a checkup at the med office where they took an xray that apparently concerned the doctor. (It didn’t upset me because I’ve seen my back xrays before and it looks like a map of Vanuatu.) At first they decided to send me to Australia for a followup MRI to one I had in the States a few years ago. Apparently the med office in D. C. didn’t see it that way and said I should just be put on steroids for 10 days after which the trip to Australia will be reconsidered. Because of this the med officer here is making us stay in Vila to monitor the situation for the 10 days. So, yesterday, I took my first dose of steroids and I think by tomorrow I’ll look like this:

After I finish this regimen of steroids I will go back to looking like this:

Oh well!

The really distressing part of this is yet to come. Whether or not I go for more tests in Australia (and I won’t mind a first visit to Brisbane as a side benefit if I do have to go) the med officer has told us that we will have to move from our village, Lovunivili, to someplace near the town of Lolowai, where I work.

It is hard to explain what the effect will be on us. While we are familiar to the area we’ll be moving to, moving from a village is not like moving from one neighborhood to another as you would in the U.S. Even though we’ve only been in our village three months, life there is an adoption process of sorts. In village you don’t just move into a community, you become part of the family of the community. On the Sunday after we moved to Lovunivili, there was a welcoming ceremony where there is many handshakes, traditional hugs and kisses. There is the presentation of mats as welcoming gifts; there is the adoption of us by host families where we get our Papas and Mamas, smol brotas and smol sistas, bubus (grandparents) antis, tiwaens and assorted other relatives. There are welcoming speeches given by the chief, and there is kakae (food) and drink. It was a little disconcerting, especially when I had to give a little speech on my own, in Bislama, which was still pretty bad, and to this day I don’t know if I insulted them or made any sense at all, though I intended to be thanking them for their hospitality. They were gracious regardless.

It’s hard to imagine from an American point of view, but in village life, when you move into their community you are immediately part of the emotional fabric of the community.  You are sure to have food and shelter. Food is often brought to our house, whatever they happen to have, they share. If there is an event, which there seems to be one of at least once a week such as a nakamal (meeting house) dedication, a holiday, a welcoming home party when children come home from school, a mared (wedding) or ded (funeral), we are always told about it. Apparently it is the custom that you are not invited to any event but are told about it after which we can ask to attend or not. People often come by to storian (chat) and our host families ensure that our general needs are taken care of. For instance, my Papa built a bench under a tree near his house and I complimented him on it. Two weeks later he put a bench in front of my house for us to use. If we need firewood, we mention we are low and it shows up. We ask for coconuts, fruit or nuts currently in season, within a day or so we get some handed to us.  This is the way of village life. This is the stuff of village life.

So with this and after three months of integration we are finally getting comfortable with the community and the culture we are going to have to move.  As I said it’s not far in distance but it is yet another unexpected twist in our adjustment to life here. As of yet we don’t know where we’ll be living and may not know for a couple of weeks so for the moment we’re in a bit of limbo while decisions are made for us. Thankfully though we won’t (we don’t think) have to move to another island. At least on the same island we will be able to visit our old village.

Enough for now, and in the meantime Beth and I will do our best to look like touristy ex-pats, like everybody else here, as in this photo just taken.

Certainly nothing to complain about,eh?  Lukim yu.

Reality has set in.  I am learning a great deal about  Vanuatu.  It is very much a new country.  While there is great opportunity, there isn’t much vision.  Roads are a problem but not a problem to be fixed.  Just a problem.  They are very accepting of what they have.  They worry the most over school fees.  They feel education is important but the education the majority of Ni-vans get is not too good.  Many quit after primary school due to lack of money.  After that they work in the gardens or move to Vila to work in shops when they are old enough.  Half of the population is under age 18.  While resources are abundant now they won’t be plentiful in 50 years at the current rate of population growth.

My work is with Helen, a nurse.  She is sitting on the right of me in front of our home in the picture Ed posted on the last blog entry. She is head of the dispensary that serves 17 villages and 900 people.  She is the only one.  Her role is to do patient care,health education, school health, Immunizations, Home health visits, Prenatal and Post natal care and administrative work.  I hope to help her in record keeping and also in identifying people who are willing to volunteer  to promote community health in their villages.  My goal will be to help create awareness that health care is a community responsibility and Helen’s role is a facilitator of good health practices in the community.  I am looking forward to getting to know the people in the villages and learning the talents that lay dormant.  The idea is that Helen doesn’t do the impossible task of her job alone.  That she has a team working with her to do her work.  She doesn’t think that the probability of getting volunteers is too good.  But I am optimistic.   I think I am way to idealistic for this job but maybe that is what I will learn at the end of this (that I am way too idealistic.)

We met a New Zealand couple about the same age as us who will also be on Ambae for two years.  They are volunteering at a school that trains people in Hospitality and Tourism.  Delightful couple.  We were their guest for dinner one night  and had a very western meal complete with vodka and tonic.  More importantly the drinks were cold.  They actually have a house with a refrigerator, stove, and running water. They had better be careful.  We might move into their extra room.

We have been in Vila for two weeks.  Possibly will be here another two weeks.  Our schedule has become as erratic as the rest of the people in the country.

Last week went snorkelling.  We noticed not many people in the water. We jumped in thinking we would have the water to ourselves.  Well we found out that there were jellyfish in the water.  After being stung we made a quick exit and joined the people who were in line to get sprayed with vinegar.  It eases the stinging.  Needless to say we surviveed it well.  After 20 minutes the pain was totally gone and have not had any residual effects.  Never did see the buggers.  They say they are blue and tiny and that is why you can’t see them.

Well I hear it is very cold and snowy in Ky. We are way hot in Vanuatu.  Come visit anytime.

We so enjoy hearing everyones news.  I try to keep up with everyone on facebook. Momma get home soon.   Love to you all.

Note: January 31, 2010 – The photos attached are random ones that go back as far as training village in October. It’s very difficult to upload pictures with the inadequate bandwidth on the internet service. We are in Vila right now and have a much stronger connection (when it works which is about ½ the time). I wrote some comments on the pictures but they seem to have either disappeared or rearranged themselves but hopefully, there’s a little sense to be made. My New Year’s story is after the photos.

Saama family meets the Cincy Blues Society – who’d of thought?

Our night out!

 Friday, January 1, 2010

02:12:52 PM

Okay, we stumbled into this new year. Peace Corps warned us and warned us again on how much of a struggle the early months would be. Intellectually we knew it was coming and try as we might we prepared as best we could for it, but our emotional predisposition didn’t catch a word of it, so we’re like mules hit in between the eyes with a two by four. We’re dazed and hurt but we move forward somewhat numbly. So, that’s the pity party.

We returned from a nice week in Santo Wednesday. It was tough to leave the city life and return to the bush. Luganville had restaurants, hotels, hotels with rooms with showers, running water, electricity, internet, good phone service, skype. On the electricity, at our site we do have a generator now but gas is so expensive ($10.00/gal) and so hard to carry up the mountain that we use it sparingly, maybe for an 1-1/2 to 2 hours in the evening. (When in Luganville, I constantly had this intense urge to keep turning off the generator when I saw the lights on.) We were able to order off a menu, have a COLD beer, real wine with dinner instead of “wine based beverage” whatever that is. We could walk on sidewalks and streets made of concrete, have a seat in a car instead of the bed of truck. We were able to have our laundry done instead of having to wash clothes in a bucket and hope it doesn’t rain for a few hours while they dry. It was great!

On the last day as we prepared to go to the airport to return here, we acknowledged to each other how easy it would be to simply re-book our flight to Vila, after which to Sydney, then Los Angeles, to Cincinnati, to home. To hugs, to family, to our accustomed way to life, maybe too a sense of purpose that we lack thus far. “Maybe it’s just not worth it,” we also acknowledged, but…. with some resignation, we too acknowledged that we weren’t going to do that, not yet. We would go back to village, we would try harder, at what we don’t know. So, on we came. We arrive at Ambae’s shack of an airport and the place is full up with people coming from or going back from holidays; maybe forty people, a real crowd, plenty of transport trucks (all 4 of them).

We are back. We’re greeted by the ticket agent, after all we’re only two of about 5 or 6 white people who live here, so why wouldn’t we be recognized. But it was a warm greeting, these people are that way. Others came to us and greet us, they were there to see others off but they know us and want to say hi. One truck driver has arranged to take a family “antap” where we live and offers to let us “folem” I was still dazed but somehow, the first step onto the plane in Luganville was the hardest, it was getting easier.

It’s late in the day but we come to our village and all people are out and active, all wave, we are helped with our bags. We hibernate for the short rest of the day, putting our house back together again. Everything has been brought inside for storage, our stove top, the generator, the antennae, all pots and pans which we store outside. I have purchased a string of lights in Luganville and hang them so we’ll have light for the short time the generator is on: one light for the main room, one for the outdoor kitchen, and one for the bathroom. (I have never seen it not dark in the bathroom and I should have left it that way.) We eat left over cheese and sausage and crackers and a half bottle of wine brought back from Santo, and we call it a day, too tired to think about tomorrow.

On New Year’s Eve I go to town, we’ve got mail. WE’VE GOT MAIL. We got letters from home, we got a couple of photo CD’s, letters from the kids, letters from siblings, all great. We even got form letters from the PC office in Vila, and we thought those were great too. I thought I might get stuck in town, as the normal procedure is: trucks down in the morning and trucks back late afternoon, otherwise it’s three hours walk. I usually don’t mind but today I want to be riding and I don’t want to be tired when I get back. The village is having a New Year’s celebration and we’re expected to be there, in fact we want to be there.

I’m lucky with the ride, there is a whole family visiting from Vila and they want to go down so they hired a special truck. Too, the truck is going to bring supplies up for the church addition being built so it’s going to come right back up. That term “right back” is a loose, undefined term. In fact, it turns out to be four hours before it comes back. But on this date, for reasons I don’t know, I’m ready for it. The post office and the bank are both “in” today and I quickly finish my business. I head up to John Stil’s stoa (store) and buy wine based beverage and some beers. I return to the truck and all passengers are dispersed. I decide to start reading the cherished mail. One of the passengers returns and we talk and he tells me that the island might get internet later next year (2010). I ask when and he says next year (vague enough to cover a couple of years) but I’m excited because that’s the one thing the hospital, where I work, needs now, the ability to communicate with experts on more medically fortified islands.

So, we chat a little more and he takes off on another lark. I decided to go on one as well. I come back 15 minutes later and a couple of others have returned, and after a half hour all hands are collected. We are loaded down with produce, the visiting family can’t believe how cheap the local produce is. On an impulse the father buys about 50 lbs of cooking bananas for 250 vatu ($2.50) saying he would pay 2000 in Vila. We go to some mango trees near a school where the family, the driver and I collect hundreds of mangoes. They’re in season and delicious and free. This takes about 45 minutes though I really am not keeping time (a real milestone for me). We load these up and sit for a few minutes and suck on mangoes. We go to Saratamata, there ‘s a store there where I buy fresh baked bread and green beans. We load back up but now the driver has put 4 by 8 sheets of masonite leaning on long 2 by somethings covering the bed of the truck so we all must ride underneath or hang from the sides while holding this wood in. I opt for the outside, it’s much more comfortable than sitting in a truck bed on a bumpy dirt road. Then we start back up the hill, but we detour to an off road place to pick up fire wood. There is no road but the truck knows where it’s going for the next half mile. We must unload the truck to put the firewood in first, then the food products on top, then the wood. No room for people, the truck is overflowing, it really looks too full even without the passengers, and I wonder if I might end up walking after all. But, if there is sky above, that means people have enough room to ride on top of everything. So, the few women with us sit on top of everything. A young boy is made against his will to sit in the cab (he wants to sit on the top of the cab, the father of this family stands between piles of produce with his feet on logs half in and half out of the truck bed. I am relegated as is another fellow to ride sitting backwards on top of the cab of the truck so I can hold the wood from the top while another holds it in from the bottom while he stands on the bumper.

Off we go, very slow. But all are having fun, laughing and cutting up, and in my nascent Bislama, I actually understand a little of it. (It turns out I’m the brunt of many of their jokes, but that’s okay, I take it as they’re comfortable enough with me to do so.) No one gives our grossly overstuffed truck any funny looks, this is normal. Food is spilling and getting squashed, but there is so much of it, that nobody is concerned too much.

Four hours after we leave we’re back. Good day. I wasn’t tense, I didn’t care what time it was, whatever it was that I thought I had to get done would get done, …. or not. So, after all, coming back might have been the right thing to do after all.

I had the notion to describe a typical workday for me. It is starting to settle into a routine, if you want to call it that, because you must always be ready for contingencies, exigencies and emergencies. Describing my day is akin to asking someone how old they are? If you get an answer it would be, “I’m 50 years old give or take 30 years.” That’s how my typical day goes.

 So, I’ll describe my day of yesterday as being a typical day. I’m sure to be ready for work and walk out the door by 7 a.m. Not a big deal here as you wake up and sleep by the sun and the sun rises around 4:30 a.m. Though I leave at 7 sharp, I do so because the number of transports (trucks that haul everything, including people up and down the mountain) going from my village to Lolowai, where I work, is around 4 trucks, give or take 4. They all tell you they leave at 7:30 give or take two hours, but if a ship came to port during the night then not at all.

On this particular date, I only had to walk 5 minutes before I caught a transport, 200 vatu (good price by the way). After 45 minutes I arrive at work at 8 a.m. Since I’m working on budgeting for the hospital, I hope to write some letters requesting funding for some critically needed projects and perhaps talk with a couple of department heads to discuss their upcoming needs and projects. Of the six people who I need to talk to none show up for work. There is one I have yet to meet though I’ve been here a month, and another I met for the first time last Friday who happened to pop in for a few minutes (okay, I exaggerate – he was here for at least a half hour, give or take 20 minutes).

I go to the post office at about 9 a.m. It’s not open yet. I return to the office. This took a half hour. I do manage to transcribe two letters I had hand written at home onto an office computer before the electricity went off. We have electricity 3 hours during the day which computers can run, give or take and hour. I return to the post office and it’s still not open. It’s supposed to open at 8:30 give or take a half hour but if the airplane carrying the mail is due, the post office is at the airport waiting for mail. I say the post office as if its physical location is a portable thing. It is not. It is one guy and if he’s not in, the post office is not open. This is the post office for the entire province consisting of three islands. I figure since the plane is due in this morning then the post office is at the airport. I return to work. This takes another half hour.

I work on a management tree for the province. If your work in the province’s health care system you don’t know who works where and there is no way to look it up. You must ask someone in the system who may or may not know and would not have a way of looking it up for you. So a management tree tied to a directory of phones (which may or may not work if in fact they have a phone) might be a useful thing. To explain the province’s health care system you have to understand that besides the hospital there are about 10-11 health centers scattered over these three large islands, about an equal number of dispensaries (a lesser version of a health center) and about 25 aid posts which are little more than a shack in the bush run by someone with little more medical education than you might get in a Red Cross course, which aid posts more or less is open when he or she wants to. I don’t mean by this to disrespect any of these people. They are hard working and for the most part very dedicated, and especially in the aid post situation they get almost nothing for providing the service they do. It’s a systemic problem displaying how this country suffers from a poor health care system.

So…. a health care directory of sorts is to me a good idea, so that’s what I’m doing. I thought it was something I could compile within a week’s time since we’re talking about 100 people total, inclusive of all support staff etc. located at the central health office and the hospital. Not so. I started the project the third day I was here and it’s over a month later and I’m not even close. It’s a whole other story why.

 So, after working on that for a while and about the time the computers are going to be shut off, I decide to go to lunch and check on the mail, since I’ve heard the plane come and go already. This time I go into the other door since the post office door is shut. (The post office occupies the same room in a one room building with the National Bank of Vanuatu. The bank works on one side of the room and the post office works on the other side of the room. There are two doors to this room, one for the bank and one for the post office, though when both doors are open it’s perfectly alright to go in or our the most convenient. Yesterday, on the third try and with the post office door still closed I go into the other door and ask the bank where the post office is. She replies that the post office is sick today.

I decide to eat lunch at Celia’s restaurant. Celia is a great young lady who operates one of two restaurants in Lolowai. It is a three table affair and has an entry door maybe 5 feet high, give or take a foot (nah, take a foot but it’s no higher than 5). The other restaurant is run in the same room as the credit union; actually it operates on the porch of a house that says it’s credit union. Celia’s is a nicer place in my opinion, maybe because Celia will, after she serves you, sit and talk thus making for some nice company and an opportunity to practice my Bislama. As in all eateries on this side of the island (there are 4 in total, with the other two in the town of Saratamata, about 2 kilometers away, one of which will actually serve beer when they have it.) On Celia’s menu is a tasty rice dish with a vegetable curry and ground beef topping with a few sliced tomatoes on the side. This is the whole menu, everyday, except occasionally she will change out the ground beef for a chicken wing. I prefer the ground beef because the meat in Vanuatu is the best I’ve ever had, when I can get it.

So after I chat with Celia and eat lunch I head back to the hospital. It’s still lunch time, I don’t know how long lunch is supposed to take but for the better part of two hours the offices are empty, give or take an hour, and as of late empty means that the two or three people present this day out of ten people who are employed in this office are gone. I read a newspaper for the remainder of lunch hours and then go to my desk and review my papers one more time after which I decide I should go to the airport to retrieve my laptop computer that was sent to another island for repair. It was repaired two weeks ago but the repair guy wouldn’t give me his account number so I could pay his bill and he wouldn’t send it back until the bill is paid so I constantly wonder what I can do to fix that problem. ( I hasten to add that there are no problems here, just challenges and opportunities; somewhere in the process  they’ve learned to just skip over the “problem” phase of an issue and go straight to “challenge” or even jump straight to “opportunity.” Such as, “Houston, we’ve got an opportunity.” Anyway, on this computer thing the provincial manager, knowing how important the computer is to me and whatever work I’m trying to do here, graciously arranged to have one of his staff who was on the island where my computer was being repaired and who was coming back this day, to bring it with him, and since it was on my way home, I would just go to the airport and greet him. So I walk to the airport, 1 ½ hours walk from here. I arrive at the airport 30 minutes after the plane is due to arrive and wait another 40 minutes for the plane to arrive (The flight is only twenty-five minutes so I haven’t figured that out yet, but am now accustomed to that flight schedule, except of course when I supposed to be on the flight in which case it will be early, give or take an hour) I eagerly await my computer’s arrival and watch the plane churn out it’s 20 passengers, but not the one passenger that has my computer. I call the provincial manager and inquire about the whereabouts of his employee and he tells me he’ll find out tomorrow. (So this morning I find out his employee  was on a wait-list and I’ve learned that he’s now on a more or less on a permanent wait-list. As there is only one flight per day and a seating capacity of about 20 it might be that since I’m going to that island for Christmas next week, I will be able to pick up my computer there before it ever has a chance to be returned here.)

Thus, I decided to call it a day and began to walk towards home. It is still another 1-½ hour walk from theairport however, this day I got lucky, I walked with a pleasant couple who gave me a delicious mango to eat and after about an hour I was picked up by a truck and transported the rest of the way, arriving home at about 5 p.m. I actually got home a half hour early.

All in a day’s work here in Vanuatu. This is what they mean by “island time.”

I am excited about:
Getting to set up house. Today and tomorrow we will be buying everything we need. I want to make this place a home for us. I want it to be a place we enjoy staying. Not just a place to lay our heads down at night. I want it to be comfortable. So I am excited about that.

I am excited about seeing how we keep our nutrition up in this place where we are limited to what is local. Want to get a goat and chickens. That way we will have milk, cheese and eggs. I hope I can learn the art of bread making. That means we will have to build a oven. I am looking forward to being creative with the island food. We have been told that the villagers will probably bring us plenty of food. I will learn plenty from them. So far I don’t enjoy the food too much. The fruits are wonderful. Not crazy about the root crops, manioc and taro. Disappointed in the availability of fish. Chicken isn’t available to often. Pork only for feast. Pigs are held in high regard around here.

What I am afraid of:
Will I really be able to become a part of this community.? Will I just tolerate being here? Will I be able to contribute to their community or just be a babbling idiot? Will I just communicate with them or will I relate to them. I am so afraid of myself right now. Will I operate as an elitist or relate to them as a fellow human being ? This will be the most interesting challenge of all.

What I miss the most:

FAMILY FAMILY FAMILY FRIENDS FRIENDS FRIEND. Everything else is tolerable. I count down the days until we are finished. I don’t do that to say I can’t stand it here. I do that because I can’t wait to be with those I love. And everyday I am here I count as an accomplishment.

I have already experienced so much of what I wanted to here. I sometimes wonder at what point will I say enough it is time to go home. For now I am willing to see how I manage and grow in this next phase of the journey.