Toka

9/27/07- Yesterday I hopped on a truck and headed down to the southern part of the island. The Nekowiar dance (commonly referred to as the Toka) was currently taking place, and I just couldn’t miss it. The dance is the largest custom festival in all of Vanuatu, and it only happens every few years. This festival is a symbol of alliance between different tribal groups and the more one gives, the larger status they acquire.
The ride there had its thrills. Ten of us were piled into the truck and heading up a very steep muddy road. Ten of us in the truck wasn’t unusual, in fact, it was less people than we normally would fit in. But the edge of the road (for the lack of a better term) was bordering a rather large cliff. As the truck slid sideways, trying to climb up the road, I sat on the edge of the back, ready to jump off incase the truck plummeted. Good thing it didn’t, the people actually in the cab wouldn’t have had too much luck getting out in time. We all had a good laugh about it once we had made it. We stopped close to the top of the hill at a small village, and walked the rest of the way to the nakamal, where the dance was taking place. As we arrived, a group of men were just finishing their performance of chanting, singing, and stomping as the sun began to set. That was alright with me though. The dancing had already been going for a couple of days; they’ve got to take a break sometime. I hung out with some fellow volunteers to kill the time, and then we heard the sound of women yelling and beating their woven baskets in unison. We headed back towards the nakamal, but with so many people there to watch the Toka, it was difficult to see. The local boys had made small platforms up in the trees though, and it seemed like a good opportunity for a view. After asking around, I was given permission to walk inside the bamboo fence surrounding the nakamal and climb a banyon tree. The platform was out on a limb not near the trunk, so I reluctantly tight rope walked down a branch to a woven bamboo platform. The risk was definately worth the view though.
Looking overhead, I could see multiple groups of women, each representing a village. They all wore colorful grass skirts, flowers, and had their faces elaborately painted. Each group was performing different version of a dance called napen napen, beating woven pandanus leaf baskets like drums. Around each group, men ran and jumped around. These men were "security". They had to dance around the women to protect them, because during Toka, a man can do whatever he wants to a women and not be held accountable for it. The dancing continued into the night, with the men hopping around the women the whole time. The intensity of the dancing only increased as the night went on. I sat watching, trying to take in the surreals sites of one of the last great custom festivals in the South Pacific. The crowds of people surrounding the nakamal slowly decreased as the night went on as they headed to make-shift shelters to get a few hours of sleep. I, however, was not going to miss a moment. I sat up in that tree until 2 in the morning, before coming down to grab a bushel of bananas, which I immediately brought back up with me in the tree. At 3 in the morning, I heard the sound of Bubu shells blowing, meaning the real Toka dancing was drawing nearer. Just after 3, the first group of men came into the nakamal together, surrounding a pole they were holding called the kerriya. The kerriya was lowered, and then the dancing began, representing scenes of daily life. Some men were stomping, some had sticks to make rythym with, and others performed more elaborate dances on the outskirts of the group. One man made a mistake while running and dancing, colliding with another man. He was knocked down to the ground, and eventually carried away with more than likely some broken ribs. Up until that moment, I didn't know Tanna men could be hurt. I mean even the Mamas here would put men to shame in America with their toughness. Regardless, the dancing went on. A little before 5 the sun began to come up. I was thankful for that, because I had not been able to capture photos and videos of this amazing performance that I had been watching for the last 10 hours. As one group of men finished their Toka dance, a new group would come into the nakamal. The crowd of spectators began to grow again, and more men started climbing the trees. With more than 10 men on the small platform that I called home for the night, I could feel the branches underneath starting to bend. I took the cue and headed down to solid ground to see the few other volunteers that had came with me. They had given up in the middle of the night and left to sleep a few hours at a small village before returning. I told them I was ready to go home and sleep. 7 in the morning never felt so late before. We left, but the Toka continued, I just couldn't make it any longer. This time we got 15 men into the truck. Half of us had to push the truck to get it started and then jump in. We creeped back down the steep hills, which was just as scary as going up them. We made it safely to the bottom though, before the truck stalled, and we were forced to push it again. After a few stalls we made it back though, and it was time for sleep. I could still hear the chanting in my head as I drifted off to sleep.
(Hopefully I will get my Toka pictures and videos sent home and put on here in the next 2-3 weeks. Patience everyone, this is island time.)