Fever Pitch

All is quiet and back to normal at the Maritime College. The marine contingent of Santo2006 has returned to their respective countries so my work with the Frenchies is all but complete… Due to the cyclone* and inability to take any boats out to sea, work on the west coast in the forests has been postponed, so there are still a few French scientists wandering the streets of Luganville, albeit aimlessly.

So just when I thought I had run out of things to keep me occupied, something else pops up… in this case its football!

After getting in touch with the soccer officials for Sanma Province a few weeks ago, I was invited to go to the opening of the Santo Under 12 Soccer Tournament on Friday. On Thursday I met with the Development Officer for ol pikinini: Bong Shek, who, in relatively rapid Bislama, asked me to come to College du Luganville/Santo to either watch or help coach a soccer team. I didn’t quite catch the instructions or his name at the time.

Anywho, I turned up at the allotted time and wandered around trying to find something resembling a soccer team. The college is wan francophone school, so it was a case of stilted bislama and hand signals in an attempt to covey that I was here to meet someone (whose name I had not quite understood) to either watch or coach football! Argh! Eventually I was directed to the next door primary school and met a couple of the teachers: Rocky and Desmond, who proceeded to organize a game of ol pikinini for me to watch. Luckily Desmond is an Anglophone so it was a little less painful! The pikinini were really skillful so it was great to see them all in action. Eventually Bong arrived, a bag of soccer balls in hand, ready for the high school girl’s soccer practice. So in barefeet and skirt (as I’ld just come from work, unprepared) I proceeded to help coach a little and then play a small game of football with the girls. Lots of fun!

The next day saw the beginning of the Under 12 Tournament. As with any event, kustom dictates that the day must begin with a parade down the main street of Luganville. As it happened, a cruise ship had also arrived at the wharf, so there was a very festive atmosphere in town, fulup white man tourists! Cruise ship day is definitely an eye opener, but that’s another story…

So pikinini from 8 different schools, their teachers, banners for each school, the manager of the National Bank blong Vanuatu and wan white misses (that’s me of course) proceeded down the road to Unity Park, to the pikinini’s cries of “National Bank blong Vanuatu, bank blong ol man”… some not so subtle advertising for the main sponsors. With camera in hand I also became the events official photographer, snapping pics for the Daily Post (maybe I should get a part-time job as roving reporter!).

The tournament is based at Unity Park, the main venue for events, for a whole week. So every afternoon, I cruise down to the park, help set up, watch ol pikinini play football, take photographs of the kids, select under 12 rep teams, take photographs of the teachers, toktok smol bislama witem ol teaja’s mo pikinini. The skill level of the kids is great so it’s a lot of fun to watch. It’s also a laugh hanging out with the teachers who are all really hilarious, they’re all in their twenties and classic island sense of humor; hardcase fullas. And determined that I’ll speak Bislama.

Afterwards the boys go off to kava. On Saturday night, Alliance François put on a Hip Hop challenge at the chief’s nakamal, so Jess and I met up with Bong, Rocky and some of their mates for a sunset shell** and then headed up to the nakamal for a night of Hip Hop Luganville stylz. Classic.

Today is a rest day, with semi and grand final action on Thursday and Friday. So the teachers are coming up to the province this arvo for a game of volleyball.



*Yes, we’ve had our first cyclone. Early (the season officially starts 1 November) but a bit of a fizzer. Cyclone shutters were placed, tinned food purchased and pots of water filled but no wind, no rain, no nothing! Still, there’s been a couple of plus 6 Richter scale earthquakes since I’ve been here, so can’t complain.

** Worried about the potential and perceived dodginess of a sole white woman having kava witem ol Ni-Van I consulted Daniel, guru to the Wantok Girls. Apparently, as long as we have a trusted girl with us, then its alright…. I’m still dubious, especially since I’ve had a number of “yu tri kava witem Bong long Saturday nite, hehehe” comments. hmmm Me hopum tumus reputation blong me not sullied!

Finally Some Pics

View from my deck

View from my deck

Me and teachers at soccer

Bislama Croc Sign

Change of address

A quick note, my postal address has changed as follows:

Sarah Flavall
PO Box 149
Luganville
Santo
Vanuatu

midnight worms: white baiting vanuatu style

Following the dramatic turn of events a few weeks ago, last week was relatively quiet. On Thursday I was invited to go with the SANTO2006 scientists to view the Palola worms. Basically, during the full moon at this time of year, the worms emerge from the coral reefs to mate and are harvested throughout the pacific. So after my french lesson, we pilled in the ubiquitous mini-van and headed 1hour south west to Tangoa Island, arriving at around 10pm.

Following a hairy boatride across a shark-infested channel, we made our way to the village where we were welcomed by the mama's, including the presentation of leis and kakae, and then headed to the coral reef. There was a big swell running, pretty big waves smashing against the rocks, so thankfully the decision was made to go to the calm side of the island, where about 10 small outrigger canoes with bamboo torches were floating a few metres off shore. On the foreshore, a couple of people used plastic strainers to collect the worms as they came out of the coral, attracted by the torchlight. It was kind of interesting, but at midnight we were all pretty much set on going home. However, the bus wasn't leaving till 2am so it was into the sleeping house to spel smol. The bus driver was also sleeping in the fale, so I thought we'ld be a shoe-in for getting onto the bus. Little did I know that nearly everyone else had managed to get across the channel and were champing at the bit to get home so the bus was fulup. Luckily for us stragglers, a second bus arrived and we managed to get home around 4am.

Other happenings this week: My VSA programme manager and a journalist with VSA arrived, so the weekend saw a nice dinner at Hotel Santo on Saturday and a swim and bbq at Beachfront resort on Sunday. The main reason for the bbq was to farwell Peter's partner Margaret (my mountainbiking buddy) who was off to Manilla for a course and eventually back to sea for four months. Unfortunately she left on the Saturday evening flight, but it was still a good farwell : )

Also, it looks as though my assignment is likely to change. As you may be aware, my Director is in the Solomons and there is not a lot of work happening at Wantok. So I'm starting to put some feelers out for some other work, at this stage the Provincial Council's Environment Unit is the likely location. As WTEC is my postal address, this may change in the near future, so will keep you up to date. Keep the post cards coming!

Also, for anyone who has had the (mis)fortune of observing my domestic skills you will be suprised to know at how domesticated I've become! Saturday saw the floors being scrubbed on hands and knees, I've been making mince pies, including the pastry from scratch, fudge, quiches, tomato sauces etc. There's a tonne of ginger in the market at the moment and I've managed to find a recipe for chrystalised ginger.... Who would have thought eh? So recipes are also greatfully received.

Other news: I'm getting my first island dress made in preparation for the trip to Pentecost in November. I've tried on a few and they are truly awful: I must be a bit taller than the average Ni-van as the ones that fit my shoulders aren't long enough, although you could fit about five pregnant Sarah's inside, they're so voluminous! Imagine a colourful powderpuff with long skinny arms and legs poking out. So I've commissioned a dress to be made, longer and more fitted.

But wait, there's still more! At WTEC, us girls seem to be coming up with a range of crazy ideas... The latest is to get some motherhubbard dresses made up for us, similar to the above but with a hoodie! We could become island fashion icons! We are also investigating the production of Bislama Croc shirts (see previous blog posting about Steve Irwin's "No swimswim witem ol crocodile" for the six designs). So many ideas, so much time!

The exit wound for the boil is healing nicely and am now showing my face without bandaids! Will be a nice scar to go with the broken collarbone bump: what is it with overseas adventures and medical misadventures!

Santo 2006 Scientific Expedition

Work continues to be very slow at Wantok, so I'm spending more and more time with the French Scientific Expedition. If you'ld like to see a bit more information on it, have a look at the following website:

www.SANTO2006.org

sorry, but its in french, but theres a union jack that you can click on to get an english version : )

And there's still more: Letter Home by Jess

The following is taken from my workmate Jess' recent email home: a very amusing tale of life here and another take on the Bicycle, Bissiou, Boil episode.

My eye's are still watering from laughing so much!!!! enjoy.


Halo olgeta,

This edition is earlier than I was planning, but the past fortnight has been quite strange and I felt like a rant.
I’ll begin by introducing a new character to my South Pacific ensemble drama: Sarah. She’s a new volunteer at WTEC, a coastal planner from New Zealand with everything we hold dear at Team Wantok: sarcastic sense of humour, good iPod selection, interest in weekends that don’t involve playing Spin The Bottle with drunken Baby Docs and a healthy disrespect for Peace Corps volunteers (we are trying to come up with a T-shirt slogan to convey to everyone that we are NOT Peace Corps - the best we’ve come up with so far is a Team America deco that says “American? F*?! No”, but that relies too heavily on people having seen the movie. All suggestions will be considered and the winner gets a free T-shirt). It does mean that my entire life is wrapped up with WTEC – I live, work and socialise almost exclusively with these girls, so I hope to hell that we don’t fall out!

Week One
As the work crises continue at WTEC, I’ve been helping Daniel, the Compliance Officer with Sanma Council and the owner of the loudest collection of shirts I have ever seen (including my Year 10 Soc Ed teacher), to draft legislation to create a dugong sanctuary at Turtle Bay. As the first step, we are carrying out preliminary consultation sessions in affected communities. The first of these sessions could have been used as a case study on how not to carry out consultation. Daniel had led me to believe that I was only there in case anyone had any specific questions about the implications of the sanctuary. Instead, he started with a general rave about how WTEC is being run by three young white girls at the moment, then threw it over to me. It was windy, the meeting was being held in the middle of a coconut plantation and ni-Vans have a thing about sitting in front of anyone else, so they tend to spread out in a deep U shape. So, totally unprepared, I had to yell a speech about the benefits of marine conservation in incredibly shonky Bislama into the wind at a widely dispersed group of men who just wanted to get to kava. It was excruciating. To make matters worse, I very disrespectfully got the giggles during the closing prayer when they thanked God profusely for having sent them the very pale lawyer.

The second session was equally entertaining. There was hardly anyone at the nakamal to begin with, so they actually blew into a bubu shell to beckon the community. This took a few goes as neither of the Chiefs could get a good noise out of the shell, so they had to wait until a younger guy with a good set of lungs turned up. I was much better prepared this time, but got thrown when Daniel changed his opening to rave about the fact that I am a volunteer, which means that I don’t get paid and that my parents had probably just given me a lot of pocket money and said “Go to Vanuatu and see who you can help!” [this is funnier if you know my parents]."


Despite that off-putting introduction, the information session went fairly well and then one of the chiefs hitched a ride back into town with us. Because we were outside radio reception, we spent the first part of the journey discussing Australia – how long the summer days are in Hobart, whether I think a dingo took Azaria, the incredibly large pineapple on the Sunshine Coast and the fact that they sell food on the Overlander (“Food? On a train???” I decided not to tell them about the piano bar for fear that their brains would explode). Then we hit a huge pothole and the radio sprang back to life, right in the middle of “Country Hour” on Radio Vanuatu. So, the four of us – the chief, Ezra the gossipy driver, Daniel in his pink and green Hawaiian shirt and the pale girl with the philanthropist parents belted out a raucous rendition of “Take me Home, Country Road” as we drove back to Luganville.

[As an aside, driving around with the Council boys discredits any notion that it is the women in the community who are the gossipers! Throughout every journey, they were making comments like “Did you see that? Rex had that temptress from Pentecost in his car! She’s trouble that one…” or “Hey, back up, bush knives are on special at LCM”].

On a less amusing note, that week also brought home the extent of sexual inequality in Vanuatu.
It started when an outspoken public figure announced that women who wear trousers invite sexual abuse by drawing immediate attention to their buttocks. His solution? To form a security company to apprehend girls who have the audacity to wear pants and deliver them to their chiefs for punishment. Honestly. National Council of Women came out strongly against this insane plan, but the fact that it was given any traction at all speaks volumes.

Week Two

The next strange week started when we were stood up by the Dutch parasitologist (there is an international scientific team in Santo for two months and Sarah has been schmoozing with them) and ended up having dinner with three drunken French sailors from the expedition vessel. These were Vincent – a young, handsome New Caledonian; Franc – a 30-ish guy very obviously from the south of France; and the poor third wheel, a middle-aged French man with a very French Clouseau moustache and the very un-French name of Bob. Only Vincent spoke any English, and only Sarah speaks any French – and even then it is limited to locating the toilet and ordering baguettes - so it was a quite funny evening of baby-talk and hand gestures that got more animated with each bottle of wine. Vincent was clearly keen on Sarah (who was vaguely interested) and Franc was training his “too long at sea” glances at Jen (who was horrified at the prospect). Because she has a mischievous streak, Sarah ended up inviting them back to her place for a drink, so Jen and I went along to make sure nothing untoward happened. It went pretty much as you might expect – Vincent flirted with Sarah, Jen tried to avoid Franc’s advances, I tried desperately to find some music that we could all agree on and Bob just sat in the corner watching his two younger colleagues try their luck. Hilarious. When it came time to leave, Vincent tried the bisou approach, which we are convinced is simply an ancient French conspiracy to help present men with an opportunity to go the pash. Sarah didn’t play along, but did invite him over for dinner a few days later. After they left, we had a good laugh about how little we’d understood in the past four hours, the fact that the three of them actually wore deck shoes and all the excuses Sarah could use if she decided to back out of the date. The very Pacific one she ended up having to use didn’t even occur to us at the time…

The day before the big date, her cheek started to fill with puss. After a bit of fervent hoping that it would just go away, we used our daily internet allowance to google cures for tropical boils and sent her home to try hot towels and onion poultices. The next morning she was incredibly swollen and sore and asked me to take her to the hospital. We managed to navigate the shambolic admission procedures and were advised that she could have the boil drained that morning. We were only charged 200 vatu (about $3) and the nurses made it sound quite simple, so I cheerily waved Sarah off as she wandered into surgery after being told to take her thongs off at the door. I was quite shocked when they wheeled her into the recovery room 20 minutes later in a surgical gown, talking general-anaesthetic-fuelled gibberish and sporting an enormous bandage on her face! Four hours later she was discharged, still wobbly, swollen and bandaged, and told to come back the next day to see how things were progressing. So, the date had to be postponed. Two days and four dressing changes later, she was looking much more symmetrical and, with the aid of skin-coloured bandaids and a poorly lit restaurant (luckily, the only kind there are in Luganville), she got to have dinner with the New Caledonian sailor and his deck shoes.

Jen’s parents have been staying with us in the midst of all this madness. They even got to experience some of it for themselves. The maximum-security prison in Luganville is a standing joke. It has an open prison yard, a fence with only two loose strings of barbed wire and seems to operate on an honesty system. The men wander around the yard throughout the day, usually with friends and family leaning over the fence. I’ve been told (how credibly, I’m not sure) that a few years ago the authorities accepted the fact that people were going to “escape”, so they adopted a policy that prisoners could make town visits as long as they went in pairs (aka packing an accomplice) and came back in time for meals. Because the gaol provides a guarantee of decent meals and a comfortable bed, most of them did. Anyway, Jen’s parents caught a taxi back from town yesterday and the driver told them that he had to “deliver a gift to a friend” before dropping them off. He pulled up outside the prison and one of the prisoners furtively jumped the fence, ran to the car, grabbed a bottle of kava from the driver, jumped back over the fence and did a jaunty little “I’m not doing anything wrong” walk around the yard with the precious cargo shoved up his jumper. That truly is where they lock up the rapists in this town!

bicycles, bissious and boils....

so, the story begins...

Friday (one week ago) the girls and I went to DecoStop, a local resort for drinks and dinner. The plan was to meet up with a couple of scientists from the Santo 2006 Scientific Expedition, however the last time I spoke to them they were somewhat non-commital. While we waited we had a glass of vino and watched various people arrive, including three French sailors from the Alice, the Expedition ship. I'ld met the chief Engineer Franco (bubu) a few weeks ago walking to the maritime college, so went up and said bonsoir. His english is about the same as my french, but he managed to ask if we would like to join them at their table for dinner, so Jess, Jen and I said the obvious: pour quai pas (why not). In the very french way they proceeded with a full dinner, while we suped on dessert and vino. The two other sailors: Bob (very french name eh), in his 40's from the Basque region, who spoke no english whatsoever, and Vincent, mid twenties, handsome and able to parle Anglaise, from New Caledonia.

So, the evening progressed with more vino, halted english, french and hand signals till the restaurant closed and it was suggested that we go back to my maison for a petit soiree. So more wine, a bit of music and even a little dancing! haha. Vincent seemed to take a shine to me, probably helped by the fact that he'ld been to NZ 10 times and his best friend was from Tokoroa! Fancy that! Franco took a liking to Jen (there's not much to the despiration in the eyes of sailors I think!) and Jess ensured that the music was just right... Poor Bob, the third wheel, kept to himself. Well, its decided that Bissious are a cunning ploy by the French to get a Pash! The sailors decided to go home as there was no room for them to stay.... so with bissious all round, and a couple of failed attempts for a little more by Vincent, they were off back to the ship. A very funny entertaining evening for us girls!

The next day I went to the maritime college to find some help to fix my bike as the big chain ring wasn't working. There was a happy hour so I stayed on for that and met up with the sailors again. Lots of "eyes" made across the room but I had a big ride the following morning, so had dinner and headed back home with bike in tow...

Capt Margaret, a volunteers wife, and I go for a regular mountainbike ride in the weekends, so she came to my house at 6am and we headed for what proceeded to be a very muddy 72 kilometre ride through the bush, farmland and the main road to Big Bay. 72 kilometres was huge really, and we hit the wall on the way back, so stopped at a village to ask for a coconut and proceeded to be fed laplap, biscuits and lemon leaf tea. We only had 1000 Vatu so ended up giving a lavalava in exchange for their generosity. Back to town through the rain, we were both covered from head to toe in mud, so went to the ocean for a swim. My clothes are still brown despite intensive soaking and scrubbing. It was at this point I started to notice what appeared to be a spot on my check becoming a bit sore....

On Monday it was back to the Maritime College and who should I bump into but Vincent! So we chatted for a bit and arranged to go out for a meal the following day. My cheek was slightly swollen at this stage and consulting various people who's opinions ranged from milipede bite to boils, decided to ice it and see how it went.

Tuesday arrived and with it a bit of a cough and a third cheek- it was that swollen. I went to WTEC to see the girls and we consulted the internet to see what to do: a poltice was prescribed, hotwater and onion, so I spent the next day and a half applying this to my face, which continued to swell. Of course the "date" was rain-checked, faining flu like symptons as well as an enlarged face! That evening was a nightmare. It got to the point of no return and I stopped eating at 7ish as I was pretty sure that I would go to the hospital in the morning. The rest of the nite was fitful sleeps, boiling water and onions and compresses on my face. When I ran my workmate Jess to take me to the hospital I was almost in tears.

Jess arrived with food and a copy of New Idea (including the special tribute to Steve Irwin), reminisant of medical establishments in NZ and Aussie. After paying 200 Vatu ($1.50NZ) we waited for our number, saw the doctor and headed eventually to the nurses station to wait for the surgon after confirming that the boila would have to be drained. This was all done in Bislama. Once the surgon finished his meeting, I was taken to the surgery, "Jandels at the door please" and shown to a changing room. When given a surgical gown I asked "Is it really necessary to wear this for such a small procedure?" After a quisical look, the nurse confirmed that it was so I proceeded to get changed and then was led down the corridor to the surgery. Inside a small room was not much more than a padded wooden plank which I was asked to lay down on, with a big light shining above. Think M*A*S*H. Two boards on either side for my arms, one arm tied to the board with an IV put in, the other with a heartrate monitor on my finger. I felt like Jesus Christ. "Have you ever had an operation before under general anesthetic?" "I think so". Now that I come to think of it, I dont think I have! As I drifted off to sleep while the Ni-Van doctors got ready all I was thinking was that I was greatful to have my face drained!

After waking up following the 20min operation, with a massive bandage on my face, I was pretty drowsy for 4-5 hours. Eventually I went home, and Margaret came over to feed me with soup and make sure I was okay. The phone rang and it was Vincent seeing if the date was on.... I told him I had been in hospital so might have to wait a few days or so. Understanding languages other than your own on the phone is difficult at the best of times, but I think he got the message.

The following days involved a daily trip to the hospital to get the dressing changed, followed by refinement with band-aids by me afterwards. By Thursday I was capable of showing my face but the ship arrived in after 7pm, so when Vincent called it was a bit late. So the big date was planned for Friday!

Friday night arrived and eventually Vincent arrived at my house, after going down the "wrong white road" and getting a little lost. My first date in quite a while, we had a lovely dinner at Hotel Santo, and the band-aid seemed to do the trick! He was going back to New Caledonia on Sunday, but invited me to their crew leaving party at the boat the following day... A funny party in itself, crazy french/new caledonian/ni-vanuatu sailors singing songs, eating pork and taro, drinking tusker etc.

So was a pretty crazy week! Back to normal now though, work and such... C'est la vie : )