Meri Kristmas, Joyeux Noel, Merry Christmas: The silly season arrives!

Well, Christmas has well and truly hit ol Santo town, and with it, a number of festive events on the Santo/Luganville scene.

First up, ol man Paama had a festival which including a Fijian reggae outfit at Charpi Stadium. After cruising around Luganville on the back of an expat’s truck taking in the nightlife that is Santo’s handful of resorts and hotels, Jess, Brandon, Ian (expat truck owner) Vincent (another Vincent with the Santo 2006 expedition, accountant not sailor) and I arrived at Charpi Stadium to the beginning of an excellent rendition of the Herbs “Long Ago”. After several hours of dancing we headed off in Vincent’s truck to Palikula Beach (also known as “Club Nautique”) for a midnight swim swim witem ol phosphorescence. Nice wea. The return home made all the more amusing with wan white man ia stap long behind long truck. Emi bin wearem smol pants blong him nomo.

The following day we saw Brandon off at the airport, heading home to more civilised (and cold) climes while we contemplated the hot-rainy season ahead.

The next Saturday involved a girls night with Maxine, another VSA volunteer, and friends of hers. We indulged in pancakes, foot scrubs and facials, while watching “How to loose a guy in 10 days”. A nice break from island life but the girly flick made me think how nice it would be to have a special someone (aw shucks….).

In a parallel universe, somewhere on the island of Santo, Jess and Jen were busy creating mayhem. The following excerpt is taken courtesy of Jess Feehely:

The following weekend, Jen and I accidentally crashed the staff Christmas party at Beachfront Hotel where Vanessa Quai, Vanuatu’s most (only) famous singer, had agreed to sing a few songs for the kiddies. Vanessa (basically a Karaoke queen with a nice voice) proceeded to belt out all the regulation diva classics – Gloria Gaynor, Madonna, Whitney. Now, I challenge you to find a girl for whom early Whitney Houston isn’t a call to action, so we hit the floor with a vengeance.

The downfall of the evening began when Vanessa dedicated the J-Lo classic “Let’s Get Loud” to Marc O’Brien, a paunchy Australian who owns the main butchery in town (and, I later discovered, is a serial shagger with a trail of illegitimate ni-Van children in his wake). It’s a universal truth that a man who has learned to dance formally will insist on dancing that one style, no matter what the occasion, the audience or the music. So, he decided it was time for the jive and, despite never having met the man before, he yanked me up and led me around the floor in an excruciating series of twists and spins (which I executed very, very poorly). He then insisted on a few more dances, until he looked like he was going to have a coronary failure and I could make a dignified(ish) exit.

Sarah’s new neighbour, Jack the anthropologist refers to Vanuatu as “Paradise for Shitty People”. It’s a good description of the myriad of horrible expats (mainly middle-aged men with young ni-Van girlfriends) who exploit this country. Unfortunately, by showing a bit of enthusiasm on the dance floor I apparently earned a reputation with the Shitty People of Luganville and will have to weather their smirks and raised eyebrows for a while yet. Ugh.

[As a sort-of related aside, we received a strange wolf-whistle-ish comment the other day. A friend told us that the local boys who work at his building site passed us on the road and said “Phoah, if those girls were in island dresses, you’d have to hose me down...” Baffling. And not quite the effect the missionaries were hoping for!]

More on that episode later.

Anyway, Sunday arrived and with it, a small training for the Krab Kokonus volunteers, so we spent the afternoon helping to demonstrate crab investigation techniques (ie What am I? I’m 6 cm long, not very blue, furry belly… wait for it, I’m a female Krab Kokonus!!! Hurrah!).

Well, I stepped out of the building for a bit of air and was looking out to sea, when what should I spy (with my little eye) but a boat that looked uncannily like the Alis (you may recall that this is the French expedition ship). Shiver me timbers! I called to Jess but by the time she appeared the ship was out of sight, already approaching its berth at the main wharf. Once home, we stood on the deck looking out to the wharf: it definitely looked the Alis, but we couldn’t see the name of the ship. A dinner date had been planned with Jen to take her to Beachfront for her last meal before heading out to the villages for two weeks, so we headed there with Ian (and of course his truck). On the way home, after humming and haring for a while, it was decided to head down to the wharf to ask the guards at the gate whether it was indeed the Alis. About half way down the wharf road, there was Vincent (the sailor) on his way back from my house, where he had left a rose and a photo of himself at the door (apparently he had no writing implements to leave a message : ) we’re curious about why he carries a photo of himself in his wallet. You’ve gotta love the French). We stopped, I called out, Vincent jumped into the truck and we went back to my place for a few hours before he had to go back on duty. The Alis left again the following morning… …pretty surreal really. Especially as I had received a postcard from him that week saying that he thought he’d only stop in Port Vila. Jess reckons it must be a reflection of all the time we spent with magic men in Pentecost (including being shown the location of a cave which has magic rocks whereby you can summon men/women of your choice).

Christmas time has also brought the final pikinini tournament for the year: the “Christmas Carol Tournament”, sans Christmas carols. My main task was trying to get sponsorship from various shops in Luganville, particularly painful to do in Bislama with harassed Chinese shopkeepers. During the tournament my primary responsibility was the BBQ, more specifically the meat. This I acquired (without discount) from Jess’s paunchy Australian who initially thought I was Jess and commented on what a good dancer I was (didn’t get me a discount though!). The tasks of bringing the BBQ itself and bread were duly delegated to others, the BBQ not arriving till after lunch on the first day (so we got some Mama’s at the Market House to cook the sausies for us) and the bread not arriving till 12pm the second day…. Arrrr Island time…. Still, it was a good little fundraiser.

The duel identity crisis between me and Jess is now infamous. A recent visit to Beachfront with the girls saw Jess and Jen being introduced (for the tenth time) to the owner, Dave*. As I was about to be introduced, the guy was waved away with Dave giving me a “knowing” smile and saying that he knew exactly who I was, having been the girl from Vanessa’s gig! He seemed very unwilling to concede that I was in fact not even present on this night. Jinkies : )

It also seems to be wedding season so the following weekend Jess and I went along with Bong and some friends to a wedding reception. It’s surprising how similar weddings are, fulup kakae, pikinini, and the dancing really only starts after 11pm. Pity there was only 6 songs on the soundtrack (all in the French “zouk” style). There was even the attempt to seduce Jess by some pretty raunchy dancing! Pity it was a particularly drunk Ni-Van woman! Very amusing (for those not being accosted anyway).

We also had my debut venture to a village for work, in the form of the final Krab Kokonus komuniti toktok at Khole village. Jess, Jennifer (another volunteer, long story) and I headed up for what was to also be our end of year Christmas do, as the Khole is the village belonging to our field worker War. It was an interesting night. Although we get our fair share of comments from young guys in the streets of Luganville, it was my first real encounter with “creepers”. After the toktok and kakae there was a small dance in the Nakamal we were to stay in (sort of like a wharenui/meeting house in NZ). Basically women and children inside doing the “stringband shuffle”, men getting very kava’d in another small leanto, with the Nakamal basically surrounded by young men peering in through the windows or attempting to tell you what they would like to do to you later that night…. Hmmm. Needless to say, the whole thing was pretty disconcerting, especially as we were staying there the night, so I was pretty glad that the girls were all there and a couple of Ni-Van men that I trust. It also put the final nail into the coffin for me in terms of any regrets regarding moving to the Sanma Provincial Council next year.

Otherwise, things continue to tick along. The rainy season has yet to arrive, so it’s been surprisingly pleasant and we have made the most of it with trips to the beach or resort pools. We’ve also had a new addition by way of Jack (as previously mentioned, a kiwi anthropologist). Always good for a yarn, particularly for trying to understand the male perspective of Vanuatu. So the flats are now very antipodean, although we could also call them the Tokoroa apartments, as Jack spent his first 7 years in Tokalofa! Who would have thought!


* I’m not sure if it’s the kava, the Tusker, a combination of both, or someotha something (got to love Bislama), but I have never met so many people who are so forgetful, particularly ol whiteman!