Wednesday, November 11, 2009

New Pictures... and Medical Test Results

The link below leads to some newer pictures taken over the last few months. Enjoy...



PS- Try not to let the pictures of my swollen head disturb you. They were taken long ago and my condition has improved much since then. I still have some swelling once every 1-2 weeks, but it is very minor in comparison to these pictures.

The medical tests came back from Thailand and I tested negative for gnathostoma. The doctors are still unsure of what is going on with me. Kind of waiting it out right now, hoping that things continue to improve. I have not been on any sort of medication for months. If I have any more problems, Peace Corps will take care of me quickly. I would be medically separated and flown back to the US for further examination.

Anyhow, I appreciate all prayers and kind thoughts sent my direction...

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Big Fish


I caught this decent sized Blue Fin Trevally with a silver spoon and a broken light-weight fishing pole. It put up quite a fight, I thought I would lose it on the reef, but luckily enough, I did not. Another Peace Corps Volunteer named Bob who is staying with me for the week was there to whack it with a machete, I would have had a difficult time landing this fish alone. My friend John fried it up for us and made a fish / coconut milk soup that was delicious.

I am in Port Vila working on a newsletter for Peace Corps and then waiting to meet my family in Sydney later this month...


Friday, October 30, 2009

Edward the English Yachtie, Part 2

About a year ago, I wrote about an English couple living on Aneityum. If you only occasionally read this blog or have a foggy memory, allow me to briefly recap the tale of Edward and Susan.
Edward and Susan came to Aneityum on their yacht. They befriended the island’s tourism committee after several visits and were asked to stay and assist tourism efforts. The couple had been living in and out of Vanuatu for seven years and did not speak any Bislama. The tourism project paid their hefty living allowances, phone bills and yacht storage fees. In exchange, the two tried to help locals with computer lessons, craft-making workshops and book-keeping for the tourism office.
Edward and Susan were not well-liked by the community. Particularly Edward. He is a very argumentative man and on one memorable occasion he pulled down his trousers and mooned a local man in front of a large crowd of women and children. The man responded by kicking Edward directly in his buttocks with steel-toed boots. Although he is an older man, Edward was in several other physical altercations with villagers, throwing a coconut at someone’s head once.
Edward is a fascinating case study on how NOT to integrate with one’s community. He posted memos on community bulletin boards requesting that villagers control their dogs at night and tried to block a women’s choir from singing because of the noise. Eventually, the council of chiefs here exiled the couple, adding Aneityum to the list of islands in Vanuatu where Edward and Susan are not welcome.
Their story does not end here though. In September, Edward sailed back to the Aneityum on his yacht in order to collect belongings that he had left behind.
One could not help but feel sorry for Edward, as Susan, his long-time life partner, had separated from him. Thus, Edward arrived with an older Australian man to help him work the yacht. Immediately upon their arrival, Edward and this Aussie got in many verbal spats in front of the entire village. The upset Aussie snuck away from Edward one day and flew back to Australia, leaving the Englishman stranded without a deckhand.
Edward ended up staying on Aneityum for a month until a local man volunteered to help him sail to Brisbane. There were confrontations throughout this time of course. I'm afraid I even managed to upset Edward myself with a practical joke. One day, I noticed that Edward's had left his light-weight dingy anchored on the beach while he was visiting a friend on the island. Sensing an opportunity, I carried the dingy from the beach onto the middle of the neighboring football field, only 30 yards away, with the aid of some local children who thought the plan to be hilarious.
The next day, a member of the tourism committee arrived on my front porch. This man was Edward's biggest if not only supporter on the island. He wanted me to perform a custom "sorry ceremony" because Edward was so upset about my moving his boat. I refused, citing that it was a practical joke and that it probably took Edward less than 30 seconds to return his dingy to the water. I apologized to the local man though, saying I meant no harm to him or the community. Edward spent the next few weeks telling locals that I had "violated his human rights" and could not be trusted.
Edward said on parting that he plans to return to Vanuatu in the near future to perform more “volunteer work.” Let us hope that he has a change of heart, both for his sake and also for the people of Vanuatu.

Tsunami Warnings (10/12/9)

The world's ever-shifting tectonic plates have been actively shuffling about lately, causing volcanic rumblings, earthquakes and tsunamis throughout the Pacific. American Samoa and Sumatra were both hit first by 8.0 magnitude earthquakes and tsunamis on September 30th, while Vanuatu had an equally powerful quake on October 8th.

On Aneityum, we were under an active tsunami warning following the quake in America Samoa. Although we are about 1,300 miles away from American Samoa, advisories were warning that a large tidal wave could possibly hit our island mid-day on October 1st, about 12 hours after the earthquake initially struck.

My next-door neighbors on Aneityum just so happen to work for the government's Meteorology Department, so they were the first to receive the warnings over their high-frequency radio. As news of the destruction in American Samoa spread throughout the village, a large number of people showed up on my front lawn to listen to ongoing reports of the tsunami warning. The Peace Corps staff at our Port Vila office sent warnings over my personal radio as well. I was advised to evacuate to the hillsides if possible.

The tsunami warning came at an inconvenient time though when our community timber project was scheduled to have a meeting with its Board of Directors. We were all gathered at the timber office that morning, pondering a relocation to the hillsides, when villagers started yelling nearby the beach. We left the office and walked towards the water, where the tide was unusually low. The salty water was retreating back to the reef at an alarming speed, revealing parts of the coral reef that locals had never seen above water. Fish could be seen flopping in small pools, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the tide. I nervously recalled seeing similar video footage of the beaches in Thailand before the devastating tsunami struck there several years ago.

After five minutes of the tide racing out at break-neck speed, it reversed. The current surged forward towards us. There were no incoming waves, just a steady gush of water that broke further inshore than normal. Most of the villagers just stared out over the water, even the elderly had not seen the water behave like this before. A local politician got on a megaphone and asked that everyone evacuate to the hillsides just to be safe. Groups of mothers and children packed up bags quickly and began hiking to safer elevations.

I sat down on the beach scanning the outer reef for signs of our impending doom. A small island and fringing barrier reef protects the small harbor where I live, which offered some reassurance. The tide continued to alternate between extremely high and extremely low every five minutes. A friend ran out on the reef and stabbed a red snapper with his machete when the low tide presented the opportunity, roasting it on the beach afterwards. My neighbor then updated us that the tsunami warning was canceled for Vanuatu, but that the tide would continue acting unusually for several hours.

We had another scare just last week, from a strong quake that shook the northern part of Vanuatu. The Meteorology Department issued tsunami warnings for just two islands in the entire country: Aneityum and Santo. Being on Aneityum, I was not pleased to hear this.

The images of casualties and debris left behind from the tsunami in American Samoa were still fresh in our mind. And this equally powerful earthquake occurred much, much closer to us as well. An audibly shaken Peace Corps staff member told me to remain calm and not panic over the radio. I was perfectly calm until I heard how frightened she sounded when asking me to remain calm.

Tsunamis warnings never seem to fit conveniently into our schedule on Aneityum, it was a public holiday when this happened. Hundreds of people were gathered at the low-lying soccer fields for the day's festivities. I relayed the latest information I had received from Peace Corps about the tsunami to local leaders, who announced over the loud speaker that the celebration would be delayed. Another Peace Corps volunteer named Katie was staying at my house for the week, she had flown in to do some workshops on monitoring the health of coral reefs. Together, we hiked upwards for twenty minutes until we reached a local friend's house. I brought along a small stampa of kava as my emergency rations. Some younger children chewed the kava for myself, Katie and two friends. It is unusual to drink kava in the middle of the day, but it was a public holiday after all. We all relaxed under the influence of kava and awaited a killer tidal wave from the safety of a large hill.

Little did we know, this tsunami alert was canceled almost immediately after we began our hike up the hillside. The earthquake had occured in a very deep place in the Pacific, thus preventing the formation of a tsunami. We waited a few hours on the hillside until it was safe to come down and thankfully had a very anti-climatic end to our tsunami scare.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

The Circumcision (10/02/9)

Peace Corps Volunteers sometimes finish their service and feel like they are leaving a part of themselves behind in Vanuatu. This will be the literal truth for Arthur Bassett, whose foreskin was planted along with a young coconut tree in the rich soil of Tanna. Arthur was circumcised in his village in accordance with the kastom practices of Middle Bush, Tanna. Thus, he has become a legend.
As volunteers, we are constantly being compared to one another and critiqued by the Ni-Vanuatu community. We sometimes feel challenged to prove our worth when stories of former volunteers arise. “This person walked barefoot always, this person chewed kava every night, this person was fluent in local language or this person married a local girl.” Future generations of PCV’s in Vanuatu will hear of Arthur, who sacrificed a portion of his penis in the name of community integration.
It is kastom in Tanna for a group of village boys to be circumcised with sharp bamboo and no anesthetic. Kastom leaves are then wrapped around the penis to speed the healing process, occasionally coconut oil is applied as well. The circumcised boys are not allowed to leave the kastom nakamal for two to three months until they have fully healed from the operation. Women, including the boys’ mothers, cannot make any contact with them as they are considered unclean. The boys must remain naked. They are not allowed to touch their food, they are either handfed by older men or the boys eat using a stick or leaf as a utensil. Circumcision is a major step in the lives of the boys, they gain some stature in the community and are allowed to help in the preparation of kava afterwards. The boys are normally quite young, about five to ten years of age on average.
Arthur was thirty years old when he decided to be circumcised. That he was not circumcised to begin with like a majority of American boys adds further to mysterious shroud that surrounds his childhood. His decision was not planned, but rather an impromptu choice was made after witnessing the procedure in his village. He mentioned to a villager how it might be rewarding to take part in their kastom and the next thing he knew, four men were holding down his arms and legs and he was biting a stick in anticipation of the snip. A doctor was brought in to perform the circumcision of Arthur and another young boy, so steel surgical implements were used instead of sharp bamboo.
Apparently, there are different styles of circumcision that the boys can choose from, somewhat like a haircut. The village men collectively chose the “Forget Me Not” style for Arthur. They explained that this type of circumcision would mean that any woman Arthur has sex with would never forget the experience for the remainder of her life. The “Forget Me Not” style features a prominent portion of foreskin that is left on the bottom of the penis. Men in Tanna relish in sharing that circumcisions performed according to kastom will enable the participants to have strong and lengthy sex lives as opposed to “white man” circumcisions performed at hospitals that weaken a man.
Arthur was not naked for the three weeks he remained in the kastom nakamal. Instead he fastened just a “para para” or calico cloth around his waist. However, the villagers were constantly trying to have Arthur remove his “para para” so that they could inspect the “Forget Me Not” handiwork up close. Arthur slept on a coconut leaf mat by a fire with the five other boys in his group that were circumcised. The only time the group left the kastom nakamal was to go shower in a nearby waterfall. Arthur used a leaf or stick to handle his food. He drank a shell of kava most nights and listened to stories from village elders to pass the time.
At the end of Arthur’s three-week wait in the nakamal, he and the boys would take part in a ceremony marking the end of the healing process and their reintroduction to the village. People from every area of Tanna would gather in the nakamal to dance and drink kava for an entire night until sunrise. This was an event not to be missed. After recovering from my initial shock upon hearing of Arthur’s circumcision, I immediately made plans to attend. Alexia, Bob, Noah, Sandra and RPCV Erica were also in attendance.
We arrived in Middle Bush the night before the big ceremony. The women were ushered some place to eat and practice kastom dancing, while we men went straight to the nakamal to see Arthur. Arthur looked healthy and in good spirits, although I did not inspect his “Forget Me Not” cut for myself. The sun was beginning to set, so coconut shells overflowing with kava were pushed into our hands. I was able to eat a steaming hot piece of tuluk before the kava kicked and I lost my appetite. The men practiced dancing as well and we spent the evening discussing Arthur’s eventful past three weeks.
The ceremony began the next day after lunchtime. Hundreds and hundreds of people from all over Tanna were there. Gigantic stampas of kava lined the perimeter of the nakamal and monstrous pigs lay bound and squealing in the dust. Coconut mats and calicos were piled into mounds as an offering for recent weddings that had taken place. Initially, I thought that I would just be a spectator at this event but the villagers insisted that Bob, Noah and myself take part in Arthur’s ceremony too. Our faces were painted in retina-burning hues, feathers were placed in our hair, leaves were draped across our chest and arms and we were given “para paras” to wear. I suspect that we looked rather ridiculous. All of the village men and the circumcised boys lined up and marched gravely to the center of the nakamal, where the women and people from other villages were waiting eagerly to see us. We circled the mounds of bridal offerings as enormous wooden clubs bashed at the skulls of nearby pigs without mercy.
The women were also dressed up for the occasion. Alexia and Sandra had bright face paint and dry grass skirts that made a whishing noise when dancing. The long column of men formed a circle and the kastom dancing began. It was a sneak preview of the all-night dance-a-thon that was to take place that evening. Bob and I struggled to keep our stomping and clapping in sync with the others while Arthur performed flawlessly. The first dance was over in less than ten minutes and then food and gifts were divvied out to different groups. Our Peace Corps group received a handful of mats and baskets, Fiji taro, a decent sized pig and a stampa of kava. We retreated to Arthur’s house to roast the pig and chew the kava before nightfall.
We returned to the nakamal around nine, stomachs pleasantly full from kava and pork. The dancing began in earnest then. I have never been a strong advocate of dancing in the past, but this was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The ground really shook as hundreds of men stomped at the same time. Our clapping in unison sounded like gunshots. Dust hung heavy in the air as we danced beneath the banyan tree and it gave a surreal look to the proceedings through the hazy glare of fluorescent lights. We were all in a trance, connected with the ancestors of Tanna who had performed this same ritual for centuries now.
The night went on and on. The dancers never lost enthusiasm throughout the ceremony, in fact, they became livelier as time passed. Arthur chewed kava for me again around 2 AM and then a village chief insisted I drink with him at 4 AM. We lost Bob to giardia, Noah to an excess of kava and Sandra and Erica succumbed to fatigue. Alexia, Arthur and I danced onwards.
As the sun began to rise, I was a jumble of mixed feelings. I felt sore from stomping continuously for eight hours, hungover, delirious from sleep deprivation and happy to have made it through the night. But most of all I felt humbled and honored to be able to take part in the ceremony, which clearly meant a lot to the people of Tanna. While I am not envious of the discomfort Arthur must have experienced after the circumcision or the stern lecture he must have received from our Peace Corps office, it was clear that the past few weeks had strengthened his relationship with the community. I was proud of the crazy bastard.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Trip to Anaowanse

I recently went on a brief trip to the north-western part of the island called Anaowanse. I went with a friend by the name of Darao. Darao is in his mid-twenties, has three children now with one on the way and is the scaler for our community timber project. He is skinny, has braided hair and a pure white pupil-less left eye as the result of a childhood injury. He is always laughing and has provided me with much invaluable instruction, especially in regard to swearing in the local language.

We left in mid-morning, as we were not particularly in a hurry. It was a four hour hike to get there. Half of the trek was along postcard- worthy beaches, where we practiced throwing our machetes at any coconuts strewn about our path. Darao was much better at this than I was. My machete usually ended up bouncing handle-first nowhere near my target, where as he could pierce a coconut from 20 yards away without trying.

The second half of the trek involved hiking up steep clay hillsides, lined with giant boulders. The wind whipped at our backs and I became quite chilly with my sweaty t-shirt clinging to me. There were several nice vistas along the way, which offered a glimpse of the neighboring island of Tanna lying amidst the infinite Pacific Ocean, volcanic ash spewing upwards from Mount Yassur on its eastern coast. Darao showed me a few spots of significant cultural value. At one cliffside, I saw where locals summon a demon spirit that takes the form of a giant sea turtle. He demonstrated by shouting down language insults to summon the demon turtle; and sure enough, we saw a turtle come to the surface. Whether his incantation worked or rather, this area of the coral reef is just teeming with sea turtles shall remain a mystery. We walked by stones with ancient graffiti chiseled into them from hundreds of years ago. I was instructed to collect certain leaves from a bush we passed along the road and place them in my pocket because of a custom belief that doing so would make a long walk feel shorter. This proved to be ineffective, as the four hour hike felt exactly like four hours to me.

When we arrived at Darao's family compound in Anaowanse, we immediately went out on the shelf reef in search of a lunch time snack. It was low tide, a perfect time to scavenge a meal from the sea. I unsuccessfully tried fishing with my shoe laces and a long bamboo cane. Darao used his bush knife to pry off giant clams called nautili from the reef. He offered the white, meaty muscle part of the clam for me to eat raw and it tasted better than a majority of the sushi I have eaten in my life. I gave up on fishing and joined Darao in digging up small clams in the sand, which we roasted in their shells around a fire. Delicious.

We sat on the beach and drank green coconuts, telling stories until Darao's father, brother-in-law and cousin arrived. His family had come to this part of the island in order to dig a few sandalwood trees on their property and sell them to a trader. We all spent the night sleeping outside around a fire, using dry banana leaves as a mattress. A wild pig disturbed our sleep in the middle of the night and Darao and his family were upset that they had not brought a dog along because we might have had pork for breakfast had they done so. Around 3 AM, while I was in a deep coma-like slumber, the group arose to go catch sleeping fish on the reef, which they spotted by waving coconut frond torches over the water. I sampled their catch the following day.

Initially, I wanted to spend a week in Anaowanse, but I started to come down with a nasty cold. When I awoke the following day I was feeling sick and I decided that sleeping outside in the elements was not helping to improve my condition. So I left the next day to return home, having enjoyed my short stay in Anaowanse.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Colorful


I caught this fish after walking to the edge of the shelf reef at low tide and throwing out a silver spoon. My host family boiled it in coconut milk and it made for an excellent dinner. I do not know its English name, but it is called "Naomat" in Aneityumese.