Buckle up- this ones a story. Skip to the end of you must. We will try uploading photos, but that may need to wait until the wifi of Sydney.
We started the day with Jacob proving why he always cooked when we lived together with caramelized onions and egg on toast. We would have had ceaser salad too but “you werent supposed to break that egg Sasha” (I maintain a free egg sitting in a basket in a bumpy truck is just going to break).
Following breakfast we headed down for a bath and shower. Naively we followed to a beautiful swimming hole. The bath was were you jumped in, the shower was a bamboo stick dribbling cold water. We both managed a few toes before we decided we were probably clean enough. We walked through the school which was a series of handsome buildings paid for by the Aussies after their cyclone, and a few built by the French. The library leaked and ruined many books, so they moved the books and now keep their prized possession there
instead- the 35 computers. Each teacher had a colorful desk covered in papers.
Next to the school, there is a new garden – organized and supplied by Jacob – full of lettuce, tomatoes, and more that are sold at market to help pay for school fees. Currently, the Australians pay for everyone to go to school up to grade 6. Afterwards, they must pay for themselves. Unfortunately, this means that many, espesially girls, do not continue their education. Next year though, they change status from an undeveloped country to a developing country so much of this aid will stop. Further down is a clearing Jacob plans on becoming another garden of potatoes (ready to pick in 3 months instead of their favorite yams that take a year) to feed each student lunch at school. Next to that again is a series of sticks in the ground which will be where the plant a series of tall and straight trees. On these Jacob plans on growing Vanilla Orchids which are extremely valuable and difficult to grow most
places. This too will
pay for many school fees. As we walked to Jacobs personal garden some students were coming by to water the plants.
We walked to a barren field covered in cut grass. This used to have everything- spices, tomatoes, capsicum with all flavor and no spice, and more. But one week Jacob was gone and when he came back some people proudly told him they had helped his garden and cleared it for him. Clearing meant cutting out all plants they did not know and planting green onions. We did find one broccoli crawling it’s way out from under some cut plants.
On our way back we saw the road had been churned by a tractor. Again, paid for by the Aussies and done by the Chinese who own the machinery. This apparently has been on the to do list since Jacob arrived a year and a half ago.
If you have seen me in the past few months you have heard me talk about today’s ceremony. It is when Jacob becomes a respected member of the community and clubs a pig.
We were told to s
how up at 12 to get faces painted. Those on the island of Tanna are teased by other islands for being “Men of Time” and living based on time instead of how far the sun is in the sky. We arrive at noon and are told they arent ready yet. So we wait another 2 hours. Meanwhile Jacobs sitemate Hamish arrives. He showed us how to clean a machete (you stab a banana tree) and poke a papaya out of a tree. He split it and shared with the rest of us.
When we arrive again a smiling mob of women and children lay out a mat for us. They start with Ryan and Jacob, and rub coconut oil on their face before wiping colorful dust on with dry blades of grass. I asked what the colors meant- Hamish explained he was always curious too and once asked one of the ladies who just laughed and said they look nice. It is a fairly new tradition that is a lot of fun for everyone.
Hamish and I had a seat, and after having coconut oil rubbed on my face and hair (which worked excellently to keep away frizzy
hair, I was looking for something that useful
) there was a pause as the lady about to paint my face spoke to Hamish. “Stop smiling, dont laugh!” This was made more difficult as when she added more dust the children would creep up closer and closer to stare at my face. When I would look at one they would run away.
Hamish was done quickly and left me alone with the ladies. I have a sense they were having a bit of a laugh at us, but I looked pretty great. Once done, I tried “now I do you!” To some laughter. I tried to follow where Jacob and Ryan had dissapeared to but a lady stopped and shook her head “Gras sket”. I was trying to guess what that meant as they brought out some colorful grass skirts and put cloth we had bought yesterday around me. One added tinsel to my hair and two feathers sticking straight up. Definitely having a laugh, but again I looked great.
I joined a very cold and dapper Jacob and Ryan and got a few photos at the Nakamal itself People where very excit
ed to take photos!
We went to the clearing where “it” would take place. We sat as everyone else got ready, and a horrified and humanoid squeal pierced the calm atmosphere.
A pig was being dragged by it’s back legs. With two dogs chasing and trying to bite it.
Jacob stood with the chief in a line with a few other men with gifts lain infront. They said some words that I dont remember. Jacob was handed a club, and the two dogs ran away. He stood over the now silent pig, and after one smack it started struggling again. After 3 more it lay twitching. I learned later that it was dead at the first, the movement is the nervous system shutting down.
Hamish hurried us forward and we grabbed the gifts (some mats, a basket, and Kava) and pulled them to the side.
Everyone clapped, and some ladies grabbed my hands to join this dance around the pigs blood. I have never seen such happy smiles after such a brutal event, though we stomped and danced around the men.
The four of us lined up
Jacob warned us “do NOT say ‘Good Game'” as the community lined up
in order of age. Everyone brusquely walked by to shake our hands and we thanked each one for hosting us.
We sat to listen to the old chief speak about their customs and that we are welcome. And then we were each asked to speak- which we were not warned of. Ryan went first to speak as Jacob translated, while Hamish whispered to say something about our lost culture as they take great pride in keeping their own. Which I maintain is not entirely fair to us, but it is true that we really dont club things much. I told him to translate so I sound better, though many in the village would know enough english to be able to tell. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home, thank you for the paint, we have nothing like this at home, our culture is lost in the States, thank you for everything”
Once done we listened to the old chief tell us about his time translating and teaching around Australia and Hawaii while the p
ig that finally lay still was being cut in the background. They lay the head and legs out on leaves while the dogs watched. “They know they will be killed if they take this meat”.
As they made a fire, the chief explained what was about to happen was very sacred- women were never allowed. Only one (a tourist from Korea that an uncle liked a few months ago) woman had ever witnessed or been part if it before. And she threw up.
We roasted pig rib, Hamish appeared with some salt to add. The men sat scrapping Kava root clean with coconut husks. The younger ones chewed it and spat it out into unattractive gray piles. The will say it’s great for your teeth as their own teeth start falling out, as “white teeth are for white men”. Though Jacob met a dentist who did confirm it wasnt actively bad for your teeth, as long as you flossed afterwards which of course no one did.
Once the Kava was in this chewed mush. It was pushed through a coconut calico by a virgin- a boy who had never h
ad a girlfriend- into coconut shells.
As the sun set the chief went first to drink, then R
yan and Jacob. You spit, hold your breath as you chug the whole thing, and spit again. And then eat to hide the flavor.
I went up with Hamish and chugged. It tasted “con con”- a word for any undesirable taste. But not as bad as everyone made it out to be. As I set the coconut shell down the men all started, as to see a woman drink kava is so rare. Some of the higher up ladies can get some from the men, though they drink it at home.
The 4 of us sat chatting quietly as the other men did their kava. They did not join us even as Jacob and Hamish had tried to integrate, as they will never really be part of the tribe. I noticed background sound disappeared and I wanted to throw up. I was able to think clearly yet was far calmer.
We walked back to Jacob’s and played music and planned what to do with the remaining pig leg.
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