|
We flew down
under the low cloud cover. Green, lush
foliage covered high, angular hills. There is nothing in the
continental U. S. like the Pacific islands.
I also saw from the airplane a
few flat areas, squared off into fields. I had heard that
Vanuatu has a beef industry, but it seemed odd to see a couple herds
of cattle pasturing in a tropical paradise of plants. Coconut palms
sprout out of flat areas.
It's good
to be back again in the South Seas.
I took quite a lot of caffeine on
the last flight this morning, and I think that's the only thing
keeping me going right now. Every once in a while I have the sensation
my head's filled with helium, about to float away. They tell me it's
the jet lag. Sheesh. I don't remember jet lag like that. Good thing I
started adjusting me schedule a few nights early, like I did.
The first sound I
noticed the next morning was the roosters. They crow the same in every
country of the world, and the familiar sound is welcome in an
unfamiliar land. Each bird proclaimed to the other, “Sun.”
“SUN!” “Sun.” “SUNNNN!” Hundreds of them picked up the cry
throughout the hills. Still, the sun came on its appointed schedule a
half hour later, heedless of the fowl.
Close by my open
window, a cricket chirped a tempo like a snare drum, marking off four,
five, or six ticks, then rolling: ta ta ta ta ta trrrr ta ta ta ta ta
trrrr ta ta ta ta ta…It rested once. Another with a higher pitch
took up the beat, but lasted only a few moments. The first started
where it left off.
A baby cried
briefly somewhere. A quiet buzz, like a cicada, provided undertones. A
dog yelped as it ran away.
In the distance a
trumpet sounded. It
wasn’t what the U. S. army played, but maybe it filled the same
purpose. I learned later it’s a recording, as I guessed. The cricket
tired of its rhythm, and I realized birds were chirping in the trees.
They sounded like a flock of blackbirds in Michigan, before they
migrate south for the winter.
A Different Kind
of Church
A “bus” took
us to church. In Vanuatu, these are minivans you can flag down like a
taxi. The license plates are marked “B” front and back. The driver
will find the shortest way to your destination, taking into account
the destinations of the passengers he already has. The price is very
economical, less than a dollar. I am told those with a little more
money will buy a bus as an investment, and get a relative to drive it.
Taxis, which have license plates marked with a “T”, can also be
found, but they are more expensive than buses.
We went to a
church made up of people from Southeast Ambrym. We came relatively
early. I asked if Leigh would like to keep the seat next to him open
for his wife to sit next to him, but he said “No,” with emphasis.
In their culture, men associate with other men of their own age. The
women do the same, though mothers usually have young children with
them. As a result, it would look funny to them if Leigh spent too much
time near his wife in public. I took the seat next to him.
A “bell”
sounded, the first of three. The bell is actually a fire extinguisher
painted gray. This bell said to finish up cooking. The second, about
half an hour later, said to get cleaned up and get changed. The third
announced that the church is singing, and you should already be there.
They spoke in
Bislama, the national language. It is based on English vocabulary, and
very similar to Tok Pisin. I followed more of it than Spanish in
Mexico. The Scripture reading was in English. Hearing it, after
working hard to understand Bislama, was like giving me a cup of cold
water on a hot day. But I can’t help English was the opposite
experience for those who follow some English. For them it might be
like eating crackers without water.
The hymns were
European, translated into Bislama. The first was “How Great Thou
Art.” They sang acappella, in three or four part harmony. They have
a good ear and sing well.
The church
building was open on two sides, and made out of corrugated tin. Wood
planks formed benches, and concrete blocks served as seats. True to
culture, the men sit on one side, and the women sit on the other. The
children, when they weren’t off running somewhere else, sat with the
women. The building held a couple dozen. Out back one of the women put
down a woven mat.
Most of the
people put in coins when the offering plate went by. I didn’t have
the amount I wanted to give. Later Leigh loaned me a bill. When I gave
it to the elder, he looked at me as though it were the gift of a
wealthy man. It was worth about $1.33.
After church, the
people fed us. To my surprise, they offered me my choice of the plates
of food. They all had a bed of rice, but differed in toppings. The one
I selected had a vegetable like spinach, though it tasted different.
On top was a small amount of “tin fish”, or mackerel. I liked the
fish. On the side was a piece of taro that tasted a little like
potato.
I also had a
piece of “lap lap”, which is basically a ground rule mashed and
shredded, placed in broad leaves with shredded coconut, and steamed.
It’s not something I would make for myself, but I had no problem
eating all it politely.
A Kind of
Goodwill
At first I
thought it was thunder, but the sound grew. I thought, that jet’s
flying awful low! But what kind of airliner made that kind of sound?
The jet from New Zealand was only a 737. The noise grew still
louder. A fighter boomed over the hill and overhead, then another,
then another. People stopped in the middle of the road and watched. A
kid said he thought there were eighteen of them. Some adults said no,
two or three were circling around.
After several
minutes they were gone. A ni-Vanuatu (Vanuatu citizen) said it had
never happened before. Some thought they might be French fighters from
New Caledonia. One or two suggested they were American jets. I had a
hard time believing that. What would the American military be doing in
this part of the world?
We found out
today they were four American marine F-14s, on a “goodwill” trip.
So what do I know?
Mele-Cascades
Near here are the
Mele-Cascades Waterfalls. I went with a family from California. We
caught a “bus”, which is a van that a guy uses like a taxi, to get
there. The family has two boys, and I could imagine my boys climbing
on the rocks like them, swimming in the pools, and sitting at the
bottom of the falls. The falls are about 60 meters high, or about 180
feet.
The temperatures
are somewhere in the 70s (F), and too chilly for me to go swimming.
The water was as clear as it could be. The white rocks in the riverbed
gave the water a slight creamy color. The deeper pools were a blue
green. I thought I could just stick my head in under the falls. Yeah,
right. I got within a couple of feet and got drenched. Although the
water doesn’t drop from the full height, it still pounds the head
pretty good.
Fortunately the
water was a degree or two warmer than the air. But once we started
back I was cold. One of California boys was grinning, but his teeth
were chattering. It would be a great place to go in the summer heat,
rather than go in the cool season.
We were
walking back about 4:00. The hills and mountains are covered with
coconut trees, banana plants the size of our oak trees, and thousands
of plants I don’t know. We passed a bamboo plant at one point in the
path. With some many kinds of plants, there must be about nineteen
different shades of green.
Some of the
ni-Vanuatu were walking back from their gardens. They had banana
leaves rolled up—banana leaves are at least three feet long, and
more than a foot wide. Within the banana leaf rolls were other things
I couldn’t see. Probably dinner of some sort: yams, taro, manioc, or
other garden plants.
One man of about
sixty was carrying a child of about four years old. The man carried a
machete. I started chatting with him in Bislama, walking ahead of him.
When I looked back the machete was gone. Then I smiled. He held the
machete so his arm was hiding it. I told him in poor Bislama, “Me
lookim, me tingting yu loosim machete blong yu,” which means, “I
looked, I thought you lost your machete.” He laughed. He said
many people are afraid of the machete. I said, “Me no fret. Me fret
yu loosim machete blong yu,” meaning, “I’m not afraid. I was
afraid you lost your machete.” He laughed heartily at that.
Hideaway Island
The sun came out while I was talking
to a colleague named David. From all accounts, the fish are more beautiful
when the sun rays come through the water, so we decided to go to
Hideaway Island. The clouds had rolled back in by the time we arrived.
Oh well.
I figured we would have to swim out always to see the fish. I put my
mask on, and got used to the snorkel. I had forgotten how easy it is
to float in salt water. I hadn't yet tried the flippers when David
said, "stingray." Just a couple of feet away from me was a
brown stingray, hovering near the bottom. I used my arms to swim away
from it.
Then I started to look around. I was in the middle of several kinds of
tropical fish, none of them small. I felt as though I had been put
into the middle of an aquarium, only the ocean swayed and moved me.
David told me the names of the most common. The blue and white striped
one was a parrotfish. He said the flesh is soft, and bones are
translucent green. He didn't know it, but that's what the Ambrym fed
us for lunch last Sunday. They're very good. He says the white
parrotfish are better.
I was surprised that such fish were not afraid of us. David said
they're part of a preserve.
We floated about some more, sometimes over the coral. The most amazing
thing I saw was a blue starfish, clinging to the side of some brown
coral. I got within a couple of feet of it. It was probably a foot
across.
I looked up and saw clouds and rain on the mountains across the bay.
David says he loves the mountains, but I don't think he saw them the
way I did. He had grown up with them.
David bought an orange juice for me at the bar
and he chatted with the bartender in Bislama for close to half an
hour. We learned he played cricket semiprofessionally. The bartender
was about the only ni-Vanuatu person we saw there. The rest of them
were white, mostly Australian and New Zealanders. A Japanese woman was
also there.
We returned home and the sun came back out. Oh well. It's like
planning around the weather in Michigan. You can't.
© S. A. Miller, 2002
|