Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Bislama Gems

When I first got to Vanuatu, I remember Bislama sounding like an awesome foreign language; later I learned that was because I was hearing a Puerto Rican speaking it and that added an extra flair. Bislama is basically mispronouncing the English language. Once you learn Bislama it loses all of its grandeur. The one good thing is that Ni-Vanuatu really appreciate the ability to speak in Bislama and that makes the language endearing, but the best part of the language is trying to discover how to explain things with limited word choice (i.e. the immune system, HIV/AIDS, family planning). In 2000, Bislama had approximately 3,500 words opposed to English, which had approximately 35,000. Following is a list of my favorite Bislama words and phrases with their appropriate pronunciations and translations – some of these, in my opinion, are very creative. Remember, I have a very juvenile sense of humor – and spent most of Pre-service Training laughing at these – so don’t be overly serious as you read. In that same vein, some of these aren’t very appropriate (or are slang).

Bislama (Pronunciation) – Translation

Gat Hed (Got Head) – to be intelligent

Blong Mi (Blow Me) – mine

Woman Blong Mi (Woman Blow Me) – my wife

Naoia ia Nao (Now ya ya Now) – the time is now

Dikim Hol (Dick-mm Hole) – dig a hole

Givim Titi (Give-mm Titty) – to breastfeed

Titi Botl (Titty Bottle) – baby bottle

Faetem Kok (Fight-mm Cock) – masturbate

Rod Blong Sitsit (Road Blow Sit Sit) – colon

Rod Blong Pikinini (Road Blow Pick i nin i) – vagina

Plen i Foldaon (Plane e Fall Down) – the plane landed

Ek i Foldaon (Egg e Fall Down) – a woman is fertile 

Monday, February 27, 2012

Observations: Women

Now to begin, this is not psychoanalysis of the female mind. I am far from qualified to perform such a task both academically and socially. Hell, I don’t even have a basic understanding of the female mind. I am far, far, far under qualified to tell you “what women want”. I don’t mean to be overly self-deprecating, but it should be stated beforehand that I am lousy at understanding women. Even my closest relationships with women commonly contain heated arguments and unfathomable misunderstandings. Seriously, I’m bad; so, going into this, just remember: I’m just making an observation.

Back in the States, women were confusing, but they at least made sense. I knew when they were angry, sad, happy, you know, general emotions, but here in Vanuatu, the land of passive-aggression and backwards emotions (if emotions are shown at all) I do not have a chance. In Port Vila it is many times easier. Port Vila has the heavy Western influence though – not so much on the outer islands. This brings me to my main point: Yangfala Gel (Young Girls) – girls ranging from mid-teens to my age and older (if they are still not married). You would think I would connect better with girls my own age opposed to being good friends with all the Mamas, who are 30 – 50+ with multiple children, but no, the opposite is true. I also fall into a different age bracket. While my age and single status qualifies me as a Yangfala, my education and position in the village push me up to Olfala – so I am like an Old Guy in a Young Guys body with the mentality of a Young Guy (somewhat). But to get back to the point: the women of my general age in the village. Generally, I am met with curious stares and nervous giggles. While at any of their houses with their parents (Young Women don’t move out of home until they are married) I am constantly pampered like I am unable to function on my own. Recently, during a health talk I made on Sexual Reproductive Health with the village in which I split the Talks into four groups – Young Girls, Mamas, Young Boys, and Papas –, I was confronted with the full range of emotions. While waiting for answers, which were extracted like pulling teeth (if at all), I was met with intense nervous giggles and eyes refusing to make any form of eye contact. While talking, I was met with random burst of nervous giggles and stares that immediately shied if I even glanced that direction.

Normally when I am met with laughter while making a speech, I presume that I said something wrong or stupid. So I’m standing there wondering if my fly is down – not the case – so WTF!? with the random bursts of giggles (it’s like they have hysterical hiccups). I just can’t grasp it; all the different emotions I can think of just don’t seem to fit. I believe they are just incredibly nervous around me, but that answer I just can’t understand. I believe they would go out of their way to avoid even hinting at a disparaging remark or action, so that would eliminate laughing at me. Maybe the subject matter, but no I’ve made groups of them explode into nervous giggles and quick, under-the-breath, local language conversations just by looking and saying ‘Hello’. This is a normal and common reaction that leaves me bewildered. How would I ever court (yes I used the word ‘court’ and I will damn well use it again) a woman in Naviso? If I ever tried talking to her, the conversation would be one-sided and she would be attacked by random fits of giggles. Besides the fact that courting would involve me coming in the night and knocking at her house until she came outside (this act is very appropriately called ‘creeping’). But if she is going to burst into giggles the moment I talk to her that will probably wake up the rest of the house – so much for being inconspicuous (defeating the purpose of creeping in the first place). Hell, I can even make some of the Mamas burst with giggles with a timed and concentrated look.

One time as I was walking to the other side, myself and two of my brothers passed a group of the Yangfala Gel on their way back over; we were going down a hill, them up the hill. As we reached the bottom and started climbing the other side out of the small valley, I glanced behind to find each and everyone looking at me and my brothers. At a prompting from my brother I asked, in local language, “What are you looking at?” The answer I received? “You.” – a clear and definitive “You.” Well, I don’t have the beginning of a clue. I’m not even sure you can call this an observation: I can’t even hypothesize based on this.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Observations: Hurricane Holy-SHIT-Fuck – Epic Tropical Low

Epic Tropical Low!? Gnarly Depression!? Yeah those don’t sound nearly as cool as Epic Hurricane and Gnarly Cyclone, but who uses the word Gnarly anymore anyway??

On Monday, January 30th, after a nice rainstorm overnight and into the morning and after my second to last ‘Healthy Woman, Healthy Children, Health Family’ Talk, Nurse Nicholas informs me that the radio has reported a hurricane (‘cyclone’ in this part of the world) over Efate heading South. Over the next day and a half I hear the same thing as we get pounded mercilessly by winds and rain – I mean coconut trees were bending practically in half before snapping up straight when the winds died down a little bit. People were strapping down for a hurricane: preparing houses, repairing old and new damage – Hurricane Holy-SHIT-Fuck is on the way and we’re ready. Well, the Peace Corps Office finally gets back to me on that wonderful gadget they gave us: the Satellite Phone. I can’t begin to decry the SAT Phone now, it would take an entire blog, but I can at least say that, you would think – you would think – setting up a network of satellites for the use of advanced phone networks would mean that the same ingenuity would go into designing the actual phone and its functions, but, unfortunately, no. They could take some pointers from the Cell Phone companies. In an actual emergency, I think I would walk the hour up the hill to use my cell phone instead of waiting on the SAT Phone. Now, to get back to the point, the Peace Corps Office gets back to me and tells me that Hurricane Holy-SHIT-Fuck is actually a Tropical Low – Tropical Low Holy-SHIT-Fuck?? – and is, in fact, not over Efate, but next to us. The Epic Tropical Low was, at that time, hovering over Santo – much closer to Maewo, which would explain the shit storm that hit us. I have never seen this amount of rain or wind. People who had gone to the gardens came back to find the river a raging torrent and were unable to get across. The following day the river had torn apart the surrounding land and practically doubled in width. The ocean had destroyed the beach and scattered coral and coconut trees all over. Worst of all, I found that my toilet had flooded. This was discovered as I realized the toilet paper wasn’t going very far down. With a handy flashlight, I found that my toilet’s pit – not even half full the day before – was filled with water mixed with excrement and almost to the top – Holy-SHIT-Fuck! In my estimation, that qualifies as a natural disaster, but that’s just my observation.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Observations: A Problem of Perspective

Besides the obvious frustration of failing to get my Parents to Maewo – I mean we could SEE the island! SEE IT!!! – after getting them all the way to Vanuatu, I have also had to tell the sad story to every person on Maewo (word spreads fast). Retelling the tale over and over again has resulted in me reliving the frustration constantly. While this is, at times, trying, the real problem arises in the Ni-Vanuatu lacking a sense of time. Americans fear time. We constantly live in time’s shadow, procrastinating and loathing the passage of time as we near deadlines. From the time we’re born we start counting the days until the end. Some even choose to spend their lives counting down to the end of the world (December 20, 2012. Duh!). Ni-Vanuatu do not share this dread of time’s passage. I believe they actually appreciate the passage of time – time passes very slowly out here. The island life, day to day living, never hurrying is at complete odds with the American life of planning months and years in advance, always rushing to meet deadlines, and sticking to stringent schedules. Nic Thiltges later recollected to me that his host family was completely shocked and could not understand my hurry as I rushed out of the village on my way to Naviso and eventually back to my Parents on Ambae.

Many times, Ni-Vanuatu will travel between the islands because of work or family. Transportation in this country, to use a cliché, will cost you an arm and a leg – it’s severely expensive. This, obviously, is a disadvantage for a nation filled with 83 small islands. Luckily, following the various cargo ships from port to port is cheap. Unfortunately, riding on a cargo ship might be the single most unpleasant experience ever. Cargo ships here are not glorious modern marvels, but usually a decommissioned Chinese-owned ship used in the Solomon Islands that was shipped down here and fixed up-to-grade for cargo. This is not to say all the cargo ships are like this, some are newer ships and all are locally-owned, but these are not ships that exude comfort and relaxation on the open sea; more often these ships exude bad smells, hunger, and vomiting. Almost every Peace Corps in Vanuatu has a horror story of ship travel. Everyone tries at least once, if not multiple times because it is significantly cheaper than all other forms of travel (Plane, Boat, Truck, etc.). But we must remember that the cheap costs are because the owners of the ships don’t care about you – they care about their cargo and profit. This is not to say they are inhuman, but they have a profit-motive and your schedule or rumbling belly doesn’t mean much in comparison. Thus, your ride will never be pleasant. You might have to sleep on a bag of kava; your trip might go from an expected 4 days to 2 weeks and with a lack of food your husband might have to call his friend, who happens to be the chef on the boat, so that you and your 1-year old don’t starve to death; you may spend 30-hours continuously rocked by the South Seas just wanting to vomit; you may find that, after going Number-2, the ship does not stock their toilets with toilet paper; you may find that running water in the faucets of the toilets was not thought important enough; you may find that comfort is much more important than saving money; you may find that being a badass riding a cargo ship in the South Pacific is a passing feeling. Ultimately, riding a ship is a majestic feeling, but is short-lived when confronted with living on a boat for more than a day. To get back the point, cargo ships can take excessive amounts of time to get places: Schedules are flexible, break downs happen frequently, and it takes a long time to traverse Vanuatu in these ships. Thus, when Ni-Vanuatu travel from the outer islands they rarely have a set schedule and never know when they will come back. In one instance I met a man from my village at a Maewo Kava Bar in Port Vila in August – I had no idea he had left Naviso, the last time I saw him was in March on his way to Lolowai Hospital on Ambae and he apparently jumped a ship to Port Vila – and he told me he would be back by September; upon taking my Dad to his first kava at the same kava bar, in later October, the same man hands me my kava – he eventually got back to Maewo in late November. Basically, very frequently, Ni-Vanuatu leave for unknown extended periods and just come back whenever.

Well this kind of leisure is not afforded by Travel Agents and thus my Parents were stuck in a Don’t you dare try changing me or the fell agents of the Travel Industry will fall open you like locusts and the rivers will run red with blood  Travel Schedule. Just trying to shift the entire package ahead a day, months in advance, risked incurring the wrath of the Galactic Empire known as Azumano Travel and the Collective Airline Agencies, but fees were the least of the problem: everything had to fall into place exactly as the Travel Agency had planned it – this can be problematic in the developing world, especially in an island nation with less than satisfactory transportation and unpredictable weather (we’re on the Ring of Fire people!! Check a map – we’re a disaster zone). Vice versa, the Ni-Vanuatu do not grasp this kind of stringent, no excuses, no tardiness schedule. Thus my biggest problem with telling everyone that my Parents couldn’t make it is the constant questions of when will they try again and why couldn’t they wait on Ambae until the weather was better. Well, the exorbitant prices and my Mom would kill me, to answer those respectively. Unfortunately, those don’t really sate their questions. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but the idea that they only had a small window of time to get to Naviso and that the window passed and they missed it has been nearly impossible to convey. I believe some people understand that it was a one-shot deal and wasn’t possible, but the majority cannot grasp why they could get to Vanuatu, but not to Maewo – the Peace Corps Volunteer got there, why not his parents? I’ve found that this is one of the biggest cultural barriers I’ve confronted while trying to reach understanding. After being here for a year, I too do not understand why travel schedules are so stringent and inflexible. While the cost in Vanuatu for transportation is highway robbery, at least they don’t make you pay fees every time you need to change your schedule – at least you can change your schedule. I think flexibility is something America could benefit from – just an observation. 

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Wok i Kik: A Work Update

I follow a number of different blogs: friends of mine from before Peace Corps and PCVs I am currently serving with. Everyone I follow is a friend or past acquaintance of mine working internationally, in some shape or form, as an Aid/Development worker and I’ve started to notice a trend: I feel like the only ‘blogger’ – yeah, that is a horrible word – that never starts a blog with “Today at the office…” This is made impossible by my situation; when I wake up for work, it is completely up to me and my own independent thoughts to decide what work I will do – sounds great, huh? I can’t tell you how much I want a 9 – 5 job right now with a set of objectives, goals, and deadlines (we do have these in our project framework, but deadlines are non-existent). That way if I finish my work and slack off, I will still feel accomplished. Now I can’t slack off or I feel the looming shadow of guilt. Bah! Thus, I spend my days and weeks working on everything I can and eventually realizing that I have burnt out all possibilities of additional work way too early and thus the cycle begins again: work frenzy, work, rest, guilt, work frenzy, work, rest, guilt, etc. etc. Never thought I would be demanding a 9 – 5, but any structure would be nice – I really appreciate structure (it’s an OCD-perfectionist thing). Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the freedom and trust Peace Corps gives us (some might say ‘has to give us’ – considering the island set-up). I am allowed to make my own professional decisions regarding my development projects and nothing could be more empowering. I just want some structure every now and then. Whatever, complaining isn’t going to get me anywhere, so I continue working to the best of my ability and creativity. Now, to waste no further time (because you probably have a 9 – 5 and loath me now): today at the office…

Everybody Poops: Thanks Australia High Commission

Well it’s true. Australian High Commission and thus the Government of Australia and the good people of Australia have funded the construction of 83 Ventilation-Improved (VIP) Toilets thus making sure the people of Naviso have some really nice holes to poop in. The Australian High Commission Direct Aid Programme used approximately 350,000 VT (4,000 USD) to buy all of the cement, PVC pipes, nails, black paint, vent cowls, and freight costs to ship the materials to Naviso. Now we are waiting on one of the two ships (Aurora or Huvutu) to make a Copra-run and thus bring all cargo to Naviso. This was always going to be the problem – I even stated in the application – without consistent ship travel it’s hard to determine what time a ship will come to Naviso. With an April 30th Deadline this becomes more pertinent (though I believe they will be lenient on this one). During my time in Port Vila, I’m going to have to try and figure out the time the ship will be coming via Reynold (Maewo’s Copra Mill Agent) and the Copra Mill; additionally, I will have to communicate this information to Norman at Santo Hardware to try and set-up a time to get the materials on a ship coming to Naviso. Moreover, I’m not quite sure how Australian High Commission plans to freight. I will be tidying these things up during February and hopefully work can start late February or March.
During early January, I trained the Village Toilet Committee (charged with leading this project) in the exact specifications for the VIP Toilets with the available materials. I have no illusions this project will be easy, but I think in the end it will be an accomplishment of note for the community; because of the significance of the project for the community, I want to make sure everything goes well and we finish all 83 toilets, but I know that development projects don’t always work out perfectly and in Vanuatu many things can interfere with progress, so I’m not raising expectation to much… Hah! Yeah right! My expectations are sky high and I’m really just constantly worried about everything involved with the project. The hardest part will be getting the materials to Naviso. As soon as that happens I think I will be able to breathe again. Once the materials get here I believe the construction will fall into place; like any kind of work in Vanuatu: it won’t be conventional, but it will get done.  

Laying Pipe in Vanuatu: Water for Life

The PCPP for a new gravity-fed water system in Naviso officially started raising money in November and as of now we’ve raised 200,000 VT (approx. 2,000 USD). We need to raise approximately 1,060,000 VT (approx. 11,500 USD) so we definitely have some time to wait, but in the end we will be able to build the new water system and that’s the important part. Unfortunately, at the rate we are raising money I might be extending, in Naviso, for a few years. Once the money is raised we can approach Rural Water Supply (RWS) and start a program for constructing the new pipeline.

During November I used the GPS Lindsay borrowed from RWS to conduct the water supply survey for RWS. I went to the old water source and three new water sources. Additionally, I marked the main areas of the village on the GPS. The survey required me to mark the GPS location, elevation of source, elevation to main village, measure the flow rate (liters/second), and mark any other observation about the source. Additionally, I conducted a H2S Test – testing the water for bacterial contamination (unfortunately the test does not tell you what kind of bacteria) – and I kept a photographic record of the water sources. Lindsay was able to take the survey into RWS in Port Vila when she went back to America for Christmas. During February, I will be following up, for the both of us, with RWS. Hopefully, the survey will allow for a more accurate design and budget for the proposed water supply. Now we can only wait.   

S-E-X Spells: A Mighty Fine Time Educational Time

During late January, a few weeks before I was set to fly into Port Vila, I planned two talks – one for men and one for women – about Women’s Sexual Reproductive Health and Maternal and Child Health. Specifically, the topics were ‘what is menstruation and what does it mean for a woman’, ‘family planning’ (introducing the female condom and explaining the options of family planning available to them in Naviso), ‘spacing children’, ‘exclusive-breastfeeding and healthy foods for the first two years’, and finally ‘vaccination’.

The day after I announce the talks – entitled ‘Healthy Woman, Healthy Children, Healthy Family’ – the Nurse Aid approaches me and tells me that when he did these talks in West Maewo he separated young girls from the Mamas and young boys from the Papas or they will be afraid to ask questions if they feel ashamed. Well, duh! Why didn’t I think of that!? At that point my health talks just doubled to four, but when am I going to announce this? You see, in Naviso you can only really make announcements on Sundays (after Church – kind of a trap, huh?) and I’ve learned that is not good to announce an event the day before – the next Sunday being a day before the first planned talk on January 23rd. In the end, I decide to change the program thus, January 23rd and 24th for young girls and Mamas, respectively, and January 30th and January 31st for young boys and fathers, respectively. I decide I will announce this the day before and hope it works out. Of course, in the tradition of giving me advice based on nothing and usually proving unfounded, Hamlison, upon hearing about the change, voices dissent and tells me to just keep the old schedule. I persuade him that the new program is better and he is now game.

I think if anything, the schedule change actually brought more attention to the talks and raised interest. Moreover, each group now had to represent or risk insulting the Peace Corps. While I joke about this I have come to believe that the people of Naviso actually like to talk about sex and reproductive health. During the HIV/AIDS workshop, which covered some reproductive health topics and STIs too, I believed the turnout was because of the free pig and rice and the arrival of other PCVs, but now I believe that the subject matter holds the greatest influence.

During the first two talks I had 25 young girls and then approximately 50 mothers crammed into a classroom. Turns out the young girls would have benefitted from either, 1) being with the mothers or 2) me being a female, they were just too nervous around me to ask questions. The Mamas though stopped me in my tracks. I was barely able to move from one activity to the next because of the onslaught of questions. Next, I had 24 young boys and they let me down, but in the expected ways. When I was their age I laughed at this stuff and I definitely understand the belief: “that’s true, but it won’t happen to me”. These are typical thoughts of teenage boys. I had hoped they would ask more questions, but they proved as nervous, if not more so, than the young girls. To their benefit a few of the older boys asked a number of questions – which did not happen with the young girls. And last but not least: the Papas. 26 came to the talk in the middle of a supposed Hurricane (actual Tropical Low) – not that that’s an excuse for the numbers to be so much lower than the Mamas, but the weather was pretty ridiculous; on the other hand we had rainstorms on both the women’s days too. Actually, it poured rain every time there was a talk (God must be trying to tell us something about Family Planning). The Papas also managed to stall the progress of the talk with numerous questions, which was greatly appreciated. Of course, the guys questions jumped all over the place until they started asking about genetic deformities (babies that have faces like stingrays) and how this might come from having sex in the jungle opposed to their house and whether or not anal sex is safe (not anywhere close to the planned information). But the guys did prove to have real interest in learning more and I greatly appreciated their participation.

Luckily, throughout this all, Nurse Nicholas was there (not the one from Pentecost – he is currently at the Kerembei Health Center on West Maewo filling in for the Nurse there who abandoned his post after some sort of incident with a woman. He apparently won’t be coming back – but the Man Naviso himself who has been living in Gaiofo on West Maewo) for every talk. This man has been a godsend and now I finally understand the ‘counterpart’. Up until now, I haven’t worked much with a counterpart. I pretty much scavenge counterparts throughout the village depending on the project. Nicholas showed up unprompted and thanks to the medical encyclopedia in his head and his ability to speak the local language he brought these talks to the next level.

In the end, I have to say that the talks probably could have stayed as Women and Men, but I understand Nicholas’ reason behind splitting them up. I actually believe there was greater turnout because of the various splits – 125 all together – even if the splits did not result in more questions from the youngsters. Moreover, I feel that the community really appreciated the talks and it always feels great when the appreciation feels tangible. If had to end my service today – knock on wood – I would feel that these talks were worth it. I definitely feel that I can be more effective in my second year and these talks, though small, have proven to be my favorite memory, regarding my work, and are sure to be one of my greatest successes in Naviso.

GAD: Gender and Development

Way back in March 2011, the GAD committee had a second round of applications, they were looking for an additional committee member. Back during PST-I (Sept. – Nov. 2010), I had thought about applying, but I was more concerned with the transition to site. Thus, the application constantly slipped my mind and I never sat down to fill it out. So when March came around and there was another chance I eagerly filled out an application. After this I went back to site and did not hear about GAD until I went to their Training of Trainers (ToT) in Ambae. There I learned that I had not been chosen for GAD.

Didn't think the story would go that way? Did ya? Well it did and I went on and forgot about GAD (no harm no foul). Of course, I still worked with GAD regularly and helped them in any way I could: creating programs and introducing GAD concepts to other PCVs. I just was not an official member (no benefits). Then, in August, I was asked by the GAD committee if I would like to join – on the possibility that they can acquire additional funding for another member – and I gladly accept the appointment. The funding is secured and I become a permanent member to the GAD committee. The fit works as I had included GAD components in every workshop that I had conducted  at site; thus, I had a good working knowledge of GAD theory and was ready and eager to participate in the work effort to promote GAD principles in PCV work and throughout Vanuatu.

All this work started with one of the trimester GAD meetings – which conveniently landed on the three days I was supposed to spend with my Parents in Port Vila (shocker!). Well, it worked out. I spent the days with the GAD committee and every break and evening rushing around finding my Parents and getting ready for Australia. Though it was rather stressful, I did get the perk of sleeping at the Grand Casino/Resort Hotel in the Maewo Suite opposed to the normal accommodations allotted to Peace Corps (not that those are bad, just not air-conditioned). The result of the GAD meetings was a change in the mission statement and new goals and objectives for the year. The changes were to emphasize GAD related activities and lessen the importance of Youth Initiatives while still retaining a once yearly ToT. In that vein, I was tasked with revising a PACA guide for education volunteers to use with teachers and school committees. Additionally, I created three sections of a 6-part Gender-based Violence (GBV) program. Nancy and Mac created the other three parts. Nancy and I will be presenting the PACA guide to G-24 during their PST-II and Nancy, Mac, and I will be presenting the GBV program to G-23 during their MST-II. These also being the reasons I am coming into Port Vila in February (staying until March to work and because it’s too expensive to send me back to the island and then bring me back in during late February).

I and most of GAD (can’t speak for all of them) are very excited about these programs – Nancy recently told me that me might be able to find funding through USAID for the GBV program. We’re going to stress waiting to implement the GBV program for your 2nd year as you understand the community better and their more comfortable with you – it is a touchy subject. But the PACA guide can be used very early – and it should for the best benefit, but I have also discovered that your work can be much more effective in the 2nd year. It’s kind of a conundrum: you have less time, but the quality is better. Unfortunately, quality can’t buy you time for long-term projects. Of course, you could always extend or make the project so sustainable and independent of yourself that the community will carry on in your absence – we can all dream.

And in conclusion…


Well that wraps it up for the work update. Many things have happened, much more than I have recapped here, but I hope this small summary gives you an idea of what I am doing in the South Seas: drinking kava and eating pig.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

White Hitler


“Nobody feels bad hitting Hitler” reasoned Nic Thiltges’ Host Papa for why he elected to name not one, but both of his dogs ‘Hitler’ – well, that is reasonable.


‘Big Hitler’ is a fair-sized brown dog with one white paw. He is cute and fairly clean (an important aspect for island dogs). ‘Small Hitler’ (who will now be referred to as Hitler) is all white, skinny, and short-haired. He looks similar to a small greyhound. He has giant ears and thus most closely resembles a giant rodent. Jennifer (my fellow site-mate) calls him handsome, but Jennifer admires chickens so we can’t trust her opinion. Besides being the runt of the litter – always being beaten up by ‘Big Hitler’ – he has an undying loyalty to me and Jennifer. After showing him a modicum of kindness Hitler started following me and Jennifer back to Naviso whenever we passed through Nic’s site. He would stay in Naviso temporarily before we would pass through Nic’s site again on our way to Ambae or other destinations. Sometimes Nic’s Host Mama would hold him – Hitler being her dog – but she did this in our interest, believing we did not want Hitler following us (this is partially true – we have mixed feelings about Hitler). In general though, Hitler has basically become our dog, but before I go further I must explain to you ‘Island Dogs’ and what it means to be a Dog in Vanuatu (at least on the outer islands).

Humane treatment of animals – this idea does not exist on Maewo (well, most of Vanuatu). Thus, the idea of inhumane treatment of animals also does not exist. Therefore, if these ideas do not have any base in people’s behaviors you can not exactly pass judgment because, technically, there is no judgment to pass. Take this into your head as you continue to read – this will help your understanding. An Island Dog is most often a mangy mutt, can be anywhere from healthy and strong to an anorexic scavenger, covered in fleas, and usually dirty, but some keep themselves pretty clean – it’s 50/50. They’re usually growling at everything in sight – this being a product of constant abuse. Females usually have multiple litters as soon as they can possibly have puppies; the result is some very unattractive dogs and having to feed puppies does not help dogs who already scavenge for food. Kindness results in confusion and anger, fear and running away, or undying loyalty. Now, you might be wondering why dogs are so mistreated in Vanuatu. Beyond the fact that the idea of inhumane treatment of animals does not exist (this applies to cows, pigs, and chickens too) dogs are kind of useless. I mean, some Ni-Vanuatu appreciate the companionship of dogs, but they are basically another mouth to feed – in some cases they steal food, a big No-No if you’re an animal. Dogs are used to run pigs, chickens and cows, but beyond this they don’t do anything incredibly helpful. Moreover, they can be a burden and reproduce like crazy. Now, I understand, in America we appreciate dogs as companions and find them adorable. Those sentiments are present here, but overall Jennifer and I look crazy to the Ni-Vanuatu when we interact with the village dogs. Thus, dogs are rather unappreciated here and this leads to poor treatment because nobody treats something they don’t value well.

Alright, now that you have completed ‘Island Dogs 101’ we can go on to describing Hitler. Hitler is the epitome of useless. Additionally, he has received a number of death threats (well-deserved in my opinion). Hitler cannot run Cows, Chickens, or Pigs and he eats Chicken Eggs. So, not only is Hitler useless, by Ni- Vanuatu standards he is a delinquent and most-deserving of a good stoning and, possibly, the death penalty. I guess this is all ironic considering that his name is Hitler and I have to say this Hitler has a way of winning people over too (or maybe they are just waiting for the Peace Corps Volunteers to leave before smiting him). Don’t get me wrong, Hitler smells, usually dirty and covered in as many flies as a cow, constantly licks his red rocket, has an unattractive black scrotum (glaringly apparent on his slight frame and completely white body), looks like a giant rat, always gets in the way, seems to be a little slow of thought, jumps on you constantly, and, if that’s not enough, he eats animal droppings; but with all this in mind he has managed to win acceptance by most of the village as the Peace Corps dog and people seem to enjoy playing with him and giving him food. This is a result of his determination to not leave our side, his seemingly endless joy, and the smile affixed to his face (yeah he seems to be permanently smiling).

I am now fairly confident that he will probably always come to Naviso when he gets the chance. On West Maewo there seems to be a never-ending stream of more-dominant male dogs and Ni-Vanuatu who do not like Hitler. In Naviso he is surrounded by bitches and gets fed all the time and quite well. Additionally, bewildering as it is to me, Hitler is given a place of honor in Naviso; he is allowed where all other dogs before could not go. While I still do not like Hitler that much, I am starting to love him. How you might ask? Well like any bad habit, you might not like having it, but most of the time you enjoy it. With that, it seems like Hitler will be a constant fixture in the rest of my service on Maewo. 

Saturday, February 11, 2012

A First World Mother: The Rents Come to Vanuatu

Well, I figure many people were waiting for the recap of my Parent’s visit to Vanuatu (because, obviously, I have many die-hard readers) and I am ready to present the epic story now – only about 3 ½ months after the fact, but that is an inevitability of my living situation (possibly my work ethic too). Without further ado, the story of The Rents Come to Vanuatu

“I heard you almost killed Mom, at least that’s how she made it sound… She is a first world mother!” My brother yelled at me after I had failed to get my Parents to Maewo. He was in the midst of criticizing my decisions over the phone as I sat in the Volunteer Resource Center at the Peace Corps Office in Port Vila. I must concede that he was correct on most every count. Moreover, I was overly optimistic. Surprising that, I never figured that a year removed from my Mother and in the Peace Corps – at the end of the road and the middle of nowhere, but somewhere to somebody – would make me an eternal optimist and forget what most people deem necessities (flushing toilet, air-conditioning, running water, etc.). This is even more ironic because, while many things do work out in the end in Vanuatu, you still face many obstacles and barriers that can break down even the strongest resolve, leaving the eternal optimist lying in the fetal position muttering about the dire need to have a pizza. I can only guess that the constant challenges make any positive success ten-times better and thus, you just start expecting success to forget the negatives and always look for the silver-lining (either that or go insane and start screaming for air-conditioning and that ephemeral Dunkin’ Donut’s Iced-Coffee). My only defense was “she obviously ignored my warnings”, but that is not new, so that defense leaves me standing on shaky ground. I have to say though, I’ve tried very hard to truly convey life in Vanuatu through my blog; these, ostensibly, were completely ignored. Though, I’ve been told, my Sister reads these blogs to my Mom, which they obviously took as fanciful tales from a boy with too much time to think – this is a fallacy and completely untrue. Now, I will state, anyone who decides to come visit, “Heed the blog or suffer dire first world withdrawals!”

72 hours prior to phone call… October 14th. 2011

I sat on the lava rock beach that is Central-West Maewo, a nice deluge cascaded down on Nic Thiltges and myself. It was 7:15 AM. We were supposed to leave at 7:00 AM, but the boat had not come yet. We were quite surprised, as the boat driver, Basil, a trusted family-member of ours who we always ask to take us to Ambae, was never late – actually, many times he was early; but today he was late. I had called him and failed to reach him. We saw no motion down by the boats in the village down the way. Finally I reach him and he tells me that he is waiting for the rain to stop. Alright, so we wait. At 7:45 AM we finally depart Maewo for Ambae. I’ve now realized that I probably won’t reach the Longana Airport before my Parent’s flight lands. We reach Ambae and without enough time I run to the Post Office, get my packages my family sent months ago, and hand them off to Nic. Next, I run to the bank to withdraw the money for the boat trips. There I wait an excruciatingly long time as the staff does their best not to hurry – not really a surprise, but, in the stress of the moment, my inner-American is coming out. Finally, everything done, I go to catch the truck Basil chartered to take me to the Airport to meet The Rents. I then proceed to wait an extended period of time as the truck driver goes to do something that he describes very vaguely. After some more excruciating minutes we are off and slowly rolling. The roads are 1) destroyed from heavy rains and use, and 2) under-construction, thus we have to take the back-roads to the Airport adding more minutes to the time my Parents have been sitting at the Airport waiting on me, but, finally, we arrive. Hugs and kisses are exchanged, pictures are taken, excuses for tardiness tossed aside in the throes of happiness. We get into the truck and head to Le’ Mousse – the local Wal-Mart – for some lunch.

At this point I tell The Rents the bad news: the boat cannot make the passage to East Maewo; basically, we cannot reach Naviso – my village. To backtrack a little bit, the day before – hell, the whole week before – I sat on the lava rock beach in a deluge, we had nothing but sun; now overnight the rains had come, but this is not what cancelled the trip. Rain might have made the trip unpleasant, but not impossible. What made the trip impossible was that overnight the wind changed. The wind now came barreling down from the North making the waters quite messy. Now the trip from Maewo to Ambae was not particularly bad – I’ve been in much worse – but the passage between Maewo and Pentecost – leading to East Maewo – is aptly described as violent seas during the best of times. This is mainly from the entirety of the Pacific running into Vanuatu and then being funneled between the two islands. I was never expecting a nice trip, but I was expecting it to be possible; this was no longer true. Of course, disappointment was evident for The Rents had come all this way to see my village. I explained that that would not be possible, but we can still go to West Maewo and I would go get everybody from Naviso and bring them back; I was forced to go back because I didn’t plan for failure and thus left my entire luggage for the rest of the trip (Port Vila and Australia) in Naviso. At least this way they would reach Maewo and I could bring my family to come have a look at The Rents – this was not to be, but that part of the story will come. The Rents refused to concede to the impossibility of not reaching Naviso, but I believe they thought the impossibility was due to unpleasant weather and not a life or death situation (not to be over-dramatic); besides, they hadn’t seen the boat yet. After seeing the size of the boat the point was conceded.

Lunch consisted of the great, varied cuisine available in Saratamata (Penama Provincial Center): Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches. I have to admire the irony of bringing my Parents all the way to the other side of the world and eating PB&Js with them. Considering the promise of delicious island food and chicken or pig, PB&Js just ices the cake.

We sat at Le’ Mousse eating while our truck driver once again took off on some ambiguously described errand. Finally, just as we had decided to take another truck and were loading our luggage, our first driver showed up and he ended up taking us back to Lolowai and the boat. Once in Lolowai, we started loading the boat and before long we were off.

“This isn’t so bad!” comments my Mom, disparaging my earlier warnings that the seas are usually rough and the boat ride won’t be pleasant (THE BLOGS!!!). Of course, this comment was made while we were still in Lolowai Harbor. Once we hit the Pacific Ocean my Mom was slammed by a beautiful wave and immediately soaked through with saltwater. After this it was a matter of restraining my laughter. Unfortunately, as soon as I got my laughter somewhat controlled my Mum’s face went deathly white. At this point I went into serious, “try and not kill Mom” mode and started asking what was wrong. She was feeling incredibly nauseated and looked about to meet her maker, breath her last breath, give up the ghost, depart this life – you get the idea. I immediately start asking her if we should turn the boat around. We are probably about 10 minutes, at the most, outside of Lolowai Harbor and if we’re going to turn around, now is the time. “I don’t know” she said. “Do you want us to turn the boat around? Can you make it?” I responded. Not surprisingly, this went on for awhile until finally I got the response “I can make it, but I might die” – now that is not verbatim, but to the best of my memory it was something along those lines. So, we turned the boat around and headed back to Lolowai Harbor and I began formulating a plan because I still had to get back to Naviso to get all of my things. In the end, with the help of fellow PCVs (Megan Burrows, Mac Bradley, Nic Thiltges, Lindsay Templin, and Melissa Burns – Thank you), we took The Rents to the James Bule Guest House, behind Megan’s house, and I headed back, on an evening trip, to Maewo.

48 hours prior to phone call… October 15th. 2011

6:00 AM. Central-West Maewo. I am waiting for Kato (deep-fried dough – similar to a doughnut – an island donut). Kato that was seemingly ordered the night before, but I am geared to go because I have to get to Naviso, explain the dilemma to my family in Naviso, and then walk back to Northwest Maewo, catch a boat, and get to the James Bule Guest House before dark… There is no Kato… Nic’s Host Papa had sent one his daughters to find the Kato… She cannot be found…

7:00 AM. Central-West Maewo. I am still waiting for Kato. Well, I’m not waiting anymore. I start getting ready to go. I’ll walk to the other side on an empty stomach. Truth be told, I was never planning on eating, but Nic’s Host Family feels obligated to provide food for me and I don’t want to insult them. Still Waiting…

7:15 AM. Central-West Maewo. I’m heading out. I can’t wait any longer. I am prepared to offer insult. Before I get out of sight of the houses, Nic’s Host Papa comes running at me with a plate of rice. I am instructed to eat on the road and just leave the plate on a particular stump. Ale.

7:23 AM. Central-West Maewo. Rice finished, have no idea what stump they were talking about, drop plate off on side of road.

10:00 AM East Maewo. I made it to Naviso in record time. I have to share the sad story – of why The Rents are not with me – with everyone I pass (a little depressing). Finally, I reach my house and find my Host Family. They’ve decked out my Brother’s half-built house and set-up a dining area for me and my Parents. I sit down to eat the delicious meal they prepared of taro, snake bean, green onions, and diced chicken (DELICIOUS!). I share the sad story again and start packing my things for the next trip. Once everything is ready, I am told that two of my Brothers, Denilson and Pato, will help me carry my things to the other side.

10:40 AM. East Maewo. After a talk with Jennifer at her house, I head back towards the other side. I meet Denilson and Pato on the road and we take off to Northwest Maewo.

1:00 PM. Northwest Maewo. We made it in record time again and are now waiting on Basil who decided he would come at 1:30 PM opposed to 1:00 PM (as I had believed). During the walk over to Northwest Maewo, I asked Denilson and Pato if they wanted to come visit Ambae and then come back the next day (Basil was going to spend the night on Ambae); now, taking two pre-teens to another island and neglecting to tell their parent might be frowned upon in the states, but not so in Vanuatu (hell, it’s practically encouraged) – not to mention that they had never left Maewo before. So, at 1:30 PM we were on our way back to Ambae.
When we reached Ambae, I headed to the store, bought some foodstuffs, and some sandals for myself, Denilson, and Pato. After this, due to a lack of trucks, we made our way to Saratamata with all the PCVs I had mentioned earlier – minus Megan because they were on their way to meet her. Twenty-minutes later we arrived at a store close to the James Bule Guest House, bought some chocolate milk (a must – they have an ice box, that is relatively cold, most of the time) for myself, Denilson, and Pato, and the three of us left the PCVs behind and headed for The Rents.

Once we arrived at the Guest House it was already getting dark and in the porch lights I introduced Denilson and Pato to The Rents. My two Brothers presented my Parents with all the Baskets and Mats that my Vanuatu Family had made for them as gifts. After this we started making preparations for dinner while my Mother proceeded to yell in English at Denilson and Pato (this was a constant theme that I found hilarious, especially because most of it involved telling them how ugly my long hair was).

As my Dad and I cooked the random assortment of food in the Guest House kitchen, we encountered a problem: a can of beans, but no can opener. To my Dad, this seemed to be an insurmountable problem. I assured him it would be alright and when my Mom arrived with Denilson and Pato, I asked them how they would open the can in Naviso. They told me with a knife. They took the first knife I proffered and, with my Mom in shock and a few quick stabbing motions, opened the can in seconds. After this, we ate and relaxed and I was able to put on some movies with my laptop. Additionally, I was able to hear all about my Mom’s observations of Vanuatu – “this place is like a third world country”, “they live so primitive, I just can’t understand it”, “they all just sit around not doing anything” – and experience without air-conditioning, hot running water, and electricity – “you had to shower with a bucket and flush the toilet with a bucket”. To me, this Guest House was one of the nicest places I have stayed on an outer island. If the water had been running, they had hot water and electricity, I would consider it a nice place in Port Vila, but my mind has obviously been tainted.

24 hours prior to phone call… October 16th. 2011

The following morning involved waking up to the sun – inevitable in the South Pacific without air-conditioning. I then spent the following hour trying to learn when Nic was going to Lolowai, so I could take Denilson and Pato to the boat with him. Of course this seemingly simple task is complicated by the ever-changing programs of the truck drivers (these distractions can range from transporting patients from the hospital to the airport to stopping to eat and sleep). When Nic finally arrived I got about 5 seconds of notice – this involved a phone call where he stated “Where are you? The truck is here.” Well this put me in a little bit of a panic has I had been waiting on his “the truck will be there in 5 minutes call” to get everything ready, so I quickly grabbed everything and herded Denilson and Pato towards the truck. After running the necessary errands in Lolowai, I walked back to Saratamata and thus began the final trial on the outer islands: the truck ride to the Longana Airport.

While in Lolowai, I had asked Joe, a local truck driver, if he could take me and The Rents to the Airport in the afternoon. He gave me the affirmative, but added that another passenger on the same flight had already chartered him, so he would pick them up first and then proceed to get us. With this guarantee, I went back to the guest house to pack and await our trip to the airport and the air-conditioning of Port Vila.
The trouble began when a fellow guest at the Guest House, who also was on our flight, took a truck to the plane much earlier than I had planned for our pick-up. There seemed to be a disagreement about the check-in time and thus the departure time – the other guests believing the plane was leaving earlier. As you can imagine, this can create problems, especially with my Mother’s insistence that she get off the island: “I am not going to miss this flight Nik.” Affirmative Mom. She might have threatened my life too, but I can’t be sure – she at least would have made my life rather unpleasant. Anyway, I stuck to my guns and assured them everything would be alright – though I was now a little apprehensive.

On a tangent, in my experience, this happens quite frequently – people stating that their flight is an hour earlier then what it says on my ticket – Judging that, usually, one plane comes to Ambae – when it does come – it is impossible for them to have a flight one hour before mine. It seems as if people don’t ever read their ticket or they don’t have one – only having a booking number for check-in – and are going off memory, but without fail I have yet to be wrong on the time because every time I look at my ticket.

Thus, we waited… And waited… Waited some more… And waited some more. The more we waited the more death threats I received from my Mom (not really, but she definitely was undermining my confidence). My apprehension wasn’t helped when Mac (fellow PCV also on our flight to Port Vila) called me and asked where we were – she had already arrived at the Airport. All this while I was repeatedly calling Joe and beginning to feel like I was annoying him. Probably because he kept telling me he was 5 – 10 minutes away; but I failed to see or hear his truck – on an outer island, it is pretty easy, with the lack of any significant background noise, to hear a truck. This went on for an unpleasantly long time and then Joe finally arrived: his truck was fully loaded – well how the hell am I going to get my Mom on that. With unflinching audacity, my Mom walked straight to the cab and tried to get in, seemingly unaware that a woman was already there. As she opened the door she was told that the woman was sick and had to ride in the front. That left only one option: riding in the truck bed. Well this was going to be interesting, but, apparently due to her desire to get off Ambae and back to air-conditioning and running water, she didn’t question it and tried to get in the back of the truck. With my Dad pushing from the back she tried getting in. In hindsight, I realize that the other occupants of the truck were incredibly unhelpful, going against the general character of Ni-Vanuatu, but I blame this on spending too much time in Provincial Centers and being used to the more adventurous type of tourist visiting Ambae. In hindsight because I was too busy listening to my Mother’s frustrated tirade directed at my Dad and me. Some unflattering things were said before my Mom made it into the truck bed, but before I was able to jump in who rolls up but another truck – with no one but the driver. I immediately go and ask the driver if he can take us. With an affirmative, my Mom gets out of the first truck – a much easier task – and into the big, double-cab, air-conditioned, brand-spankin’ new truck (owned by one of the Cooperative-Stores of East Ambae). It always works out in the end – there’s that damn silver lining. We are off to the Airport and Port Vila.

Thus ends this narration. The best word to describe the Maewo attempt would probably be disaster – I used that adjective quite frequently in the following weeks. This outer island trip resulted in the most stress I’ve experienced in more than a year -- that’s the accumulative stress of the past year. Of course, much of this cynicism is in the interest of humor – I can’t think of any people that I would want to experience a mental breakdown with more than The Rents…