Make it stop, please make it stop

I can sum up the past few weeks with one word, hot. The kind of hot that won’t let you sleep at night. That makes you sweat when you’re sitting in the shade, makes you sweat when you eat, and makes you sweat when you’re trying to fan yourself with whatever you can find. That hot humid miserable heat that melts gum and makes it feel like somebody has already chewed it before it’s been in your mouth. What I wouldn’t do for a pile of snow, even if it would only last a few minutes.
And then there’s the rain. The buckets of rain falling for days on end making every trail a river of mud. The mud swallows up your feet, making it impossible to wear any kind of shoe, which isn’t so bad except when you share the trail with pigs. The mud and pools of stagnant water are also much appreciated by the many mosquitoes, not to mention the flies and various other small insects. Now being that I enjoy my bugs a great deal more than most people, you would think I would be happy about this. But the constant buzz of bugs in your ear, stuck to your sweaty face, or swallowed while panting in the heat gets old.
Now given the weather the past few weeks, or maybe months, you can understand why I am slightly lacking in motivation. Things like working on my garden or cutting my grass by hand become monumental tasks. Even something as mundane as using the telephone can be unpleasant. Last week I sat inside all day as it rained, waiting for a hint of blue sky. I got the break I was looking for and set off toward the phone. Fortunately for me it’s only a little over an hour away. After that, there isn’t another one within six hours. I hiked my way down to a stream and followed the foot steps ingrained in the banking rocks, impressions left after possibly hundreds of years of men using the same trail. After some splashing around to cool down, I climbed back out onto the other side of the valley. After winding through fields of wild cane towering over my head, passing gardens and banana trees, villages, and the one road in all of North Tanna, I arrived at the phone sufficiently hot and sweaty. I sat outside the crude phone booth, which is simply a few pieces of wood supporting a rusted tin roof, and waited for my turn.
The phone system here is not what you are used to. Since only one person can use the one phone at a time, you often have to wait a few hours before that phone becomes available for your use. Once it’s your turn to use it, you often realize that the phone line is busy even though no one is even on the phone. ‘How could this be?’ you might ask. If anyone else is on a phone somewhere else on the island it can make your phone busy too. So then you wait some more. While waiting, I sit down to rest. The flies are relentless, and swarm to all of my cuts and scrapes. They mostly ignore the ones covers in dirty mud though, but I don’t know if that’s bad or good.
A woman and an old man approach me to storian. In typical Tanna fashion the woman is nursing her baby while talking to me. The baby is covered with sores from scabies, drawing even more flies to our area. There’s another child next to me. He’s leaning over and vomiting heavily. Everyone chooses to ignore him though; kids take care of their own problems. Through all of this, the sun is beating down on me, and all I want to do is use the stupid phone. I kill time answering questions, the same questions that every other person in Tanna asks me everyday. ‘Where are you from? Are you from the north or south? (Since Tanna is broken up into north and south, they think of every place as only having a north and south. If another Peace Corps volunteer has told them they live in the north too, like in New York, they think that we live close together and that I know him.) How many brothers do you have? (They’re dumbfounded when I tell them none since they all have about 10 siblings) and How long will you live here for?’ (Always reminding me that I have more than a year to go). So after an hour of this I’m happy when it’s my turn for the phone. I call the person I need to reach who doesn’t answer. I call another person, no answer. A few more tries, and then I sit down and wait some more. Repeating this process for the next five hours, I successfully make contact, talk for a few minutes, and then the phone cuts out. I laugh to myself in frustration and walk back home through the dark, 8 hours after I left that afternoon. The rain comes and doesn’t stop for the entire walk. All for a few minutes on the phone.

Vila

As many of you know I've been in Vila the past week. I came here to sort out some village issues and hopefully I will be returning to Tanna with most of those resolved. I have my fingers crossed that my home is still there when I go back, being that Hurricane Gene hung out there for a few days, Vanuatu's second hurricane in as many weeks. We also were hit with a pretty good earthquake yesterday (a 4.9) and have another tropical depression to the north of us that can potential form another hurricane. Add this to my volcano experience and I can understand why Vanuautu is the 3rd most disaster prone country in the world. I can't imagine what the the number one country has to offer.
Most of my time spent in Vila was enjoyable, although I had one experience that reminded me that this is still a very much developing country, even in the main city. I had gone to a friend's house to eat and enjoy some normal conversation. As we sat outside, a man approached us, and in very choppy english asked us to help him come carry something. Me and three other guys said no problem, and followed him straight to the hospital across the street. We got there and saw many people crying. We found out his friend had just died a few hours ago, and this man wanted us to carry his body. Not knowing what to say, we sat there and apprehensively waited for the task at hand. As we waited on a bench outside the building we heard a lady becoming hysterical. At first we assumed she was a friend of the man who had just passed away, but then we noticed a small crowd gathering around her, and I realized something was amiss. The lady had gone to a garbage can after noticing an unusually large number of flies swarming around it. To her horror she discovered it was her dead baby in the garbage can, which she had given birth to 3 days earlier when it had gone missing. At this point, somewhat in shock of what was transpiring around us, we decided to leave the hospital and return to our friend's house.

Playing with Fire

Yesterday I took a much needed break from village life. After a certain point, even staring at my ceiling gets old. I woke up early in the morning to begin my walk into town. The sun had yet to come above the horizon, but a pale glowing light indicated that it was about to rise. The flying foxes flew over head, returning to the trees to sleep for the day. The only noise I heard was the flapping of their giant wings, along with my mama busily scratching coconuts in order to get coconut milk from them. I assumed the milk was going to be used to make some sort of lap lap, but frankly I didn’t want to stick around to find out. Enough lap lap already.
I passed my mama outside, indicating to her with a combination of gestures that I was heading down into town. She looked at me and gave me her normal laugh and smile, not saying a word, since she only knows a local native language, not the bislama language that I use to communicate with others. I started walking through cattle pastures dotted with coconut trees. The cows were already busy munching away at the grass and the birds were beginning to sing. I passed through the pastures, the hills, and the streams that I am so familiar with. I walked the narrow trail, overgrown with everything in green and covered in dew. After a few minutes I was soaked from the dew, which was much appreciated. Even though the sun had just come up, the heat was already heavy. I followed the trail, winding though the forest and the gardens, the mango trees and banana plants, reaching the ocean after an hour and a half of effort. I followed a new trail along the ocean, occasionally passing an isolated village with children wearing tattered clothes staring at me with curious eyes. I smile, wave, and keep walking. A cove comes into view. It is picturesque with black sand, deep blue water dotted with turquoise reefs, and not a single person within miles. Not a single villager, and never a tourist. I decide to take a break here and cool off. With no one around, no clothes are needed, and I jump into the water. I have never felt better, it’s paradise. But I can’t stay forever, the sun is rising higher into the sky and I still have 3 hours of hiking until I reach my first destination.
I get out of the water, and I am instantly dry. I continue down the dusty dirt path, coming across more secluded coves. No one is in site, only their carved wooded canoes laying on the sand. The sun is high in the sky now, its intensity unmatched outside of the tropics, and I am starting to get tired. I arrive at a nice bamboo house, complete with a rusted blue tin roof. This must be the home of Tom, the horse man. The women and children stare at me, wondering where has this white man come from. Eventually a woman approaches me and points me to Tom’s direction. I see he’s wearing long pants and long sleeves, he’s crazy. He comes and greets me and I tell him that I’ve come to buy a horse. He sends a boy to go get two horses, and he tells me to take a short ride on the horse. I agree, knowing that I am getting in way over my head.
A few weeks ago, I decided having a horse would make getting around not only easier but more fun. I have rode horses a few times back home, and thought I would give it a try here. But on Tanna, riding horses isn’t quite like hopping on the pony at the fair. Most of the horses are wild. A few of them are captured, tamed, and then trained. The problem is though that people here do not know how to train horses. There’s also no such thing as a saddle.
Knowing this, I hop on the horse. This should be interesting. They tell me to kick the horse on its side. Nothing happens. A boy runs to a tree, grabs a branch, and tells me to hit the horse with it. I do, but nothing happens. I try a little bit harder, and he starts into a slow walk. This isn’t so bad. I ride next to another boy on his horse, who is giving me pointers; how to speed the horse up, slow it down, and turn him in the right direction. After a few minutes I feel more comfortable and we begin to trot. My horse continues to pick up speed, and before I know it, my horse is going full speed ahead, leaving the boy and my guidance behind. He’s yelling at me to pull back on the horse. I’m pulling with all of my might, and at the same time squeezing my legs with all of my might in an attempt to stay on the horse. He just keeps going faster and faster though. I fly by villagers and they look amazed, as if I knew what I was doing. I guess they didn’t see the look on my face. He just won’t stop. After what felt like eternity he finally slowed to a walk again. The boy caught up to me and informed me that he didn’t stop because I was holding the tree brand in the air, which signals them to go faster or get whipped. I wish he had told me that before I got on the horse. I survived though, although a much serious threat to my life was later to come that day.
Tom told me to come back in a few days and I can try riding a few more horses, and then hopefully take on home with me. With that I was on my way. Next stop, the airport. I came to the air port and found the only other white man there, laying in the shade on the ground. I assumed this was Doug, John Robert’s father. John Robert’s was a Peace Corps Volunteer on the island of Erromango, the closest island to Tanna. He was killed in November, only 2 weeks away from finishing his service and going home to see his family for Thanksgiving, which he was so excited about. His dad had come to Erromango to visit the village where his son had lived and hopefully give him some closure. But before he headed back home to America, he decided to stop and stay on the island of Tanna. Doug had something that he wanted to see here, and I was happy to join him and some other volunteers to see it with him. Five of us hopped into the back of a truck and started the very long, uncomfortable, dusty, and bumpy ride to Yasur Volcano.
We arrived at Yasur a few hours before sundown. The volcano itself isn’t all that large, only standing at about 1000 feet. For those geology and nature geeks out there like me, Yasur is a cinder volcano, surrounded by a desert of ash which starkly meets with the lush green mountains surrounding it. The contrast of jungle and ash, green and black, is an amazing site. From the truck, I could see plumes of smoke rising from the top. Apparently, the volcano was more active than normal. My lucky day.
As soon as the truck stopped, I jumped off the back and was ready to head to the top. I think I passed a sign filled with warning and cautions, but I ignored it and rushed as fast as I could up the slope. There was a volcano to see! I got to the top, and headed to an area where other tourists had already gathered. Within seconds of arriving at the rim, there was an echoing boom, followed by pieces of molten rock hurled 100’s of feet into the air. I was hooked. At least every minute there would be an eruption. Some bigger than others, most resembling gigantic fireworks that would cause some serious destruction. Between the eruptions, I could hear the lava churn below. The volcano was angry at something, at least that’s the feeling I got.
I quickly grew tired of standing next to tourist and watching these explosions. I wanted a better view. Being that this is Tanna, and there are no such things as safety precautions, you are allowed to go anywhere you want on the volcano. I started wandering, but was told by some friends to stay close by. That settled it; I needed to get closer to the volcano and further from the tourists. I started walking around the rim of the volcano to the other side. As I walked, I kept one eye on the volcano vents, tracking the molten rock flung into the air, hoping that I would avoid meeting it. No need to worry, the lava wasn’t able to reach me from my position, but I figured I would play it safe anyways. After some more climbing I reached a nice point looking down at the vents. I sat down with my camera, mesmerized. Boom. I could feel a small shockwave hit me before I saw the explosion. Fiery orange rock was shot into the air, some pieces the size of me. As the sun went down, the fiery orange color grew in intensity. The vents and smoke rising above them were glowing red. The real show was beginning. I watched the explosions get larger and larger. Sometimes, two vents were erupting simultaneously in a deafening rumble that shook my stomach. Some blasts made the ground shudder; stronger blasts rattled the ground like an earthquake. I wanted to stay all night, all day, and the next night too, but I knew I had to force myself to say good bye to Yasur. I stood up and started heading back towards the others.
And that’s when it happened. An explosion which overwhelmed my sense of sound with the sound of a bomb detonating sent a shockwave that nearly sent me to the ground. The sky was instantly filled with red fire balls; they faced me like a wall quickly closing in. For a fraction of a second after that blast I thought that was the end of this volcano, that it was the end of me. I started back peddling, started to turn and run, and then came to my senses and looked up in the sky, hoping to avoid the molten rock raining down. Up until this point, no lava had reached me, but this burst sent lava clear over my head, 100s of feet behind me. I watched it land, realized that indeed I was alive, and then I began to run, my body full of adrenaline. I didn’t want to stick around for the next blast. As I ran down the volcano I couldn’t help but to stop and admire a giant rock lying on the ground, glowing like an electric neon sign.
My heart was still racing, yet I was laughing. I was laughing and running, thinking to myself, this is going to be even funnier if I finally get off of this thing in one piece. I don’t know why it was funny; I guess I just get my entertainment in strange ways. I met my friends at the bottom, grinning from ear to ear, laughing to myself, and thinking about when I will be able to come back to Yasur again.

Christmas in Tanna

Christmas was good. I started into town on the 23rd. Got in at night and stayed at a PC's house. The next morning I watched Elf on her little portable DVD player, reminding me it was indeed Christmas. Until that nothing seemed Christmasy. That afternoon I headed to another volunteer's house where we were having the Christmas party. Someone brought me my mail, there was a package from my mom and dad and aunt Becki. Pretty good timing. The food we had was good. Roasted chicken over the fire, and I ate lots of sweet potatoes and other veggies. Also speared a rat, a Christmas first. (I didn't eat it) I was up early the next morning to start my jounrey back. I walked for 3 hrs. until I took my first break to rest in the shade and storian with random people. After another half hour of walking I reached Whitegrass Resort. I figured I would stop and check the place out and get out of the sun. At Whitegrass I asked about lunch. It wasn't being served for another 2 hrs. but it was a special buffet so I stuck around for it, it was Christmas afterall. I ate sweet potatoes, ham, meatballs, sausages, potaote salad, fish, and whole fresh lobster. I felt pretty out of place at first, since everyone was with family, but once they figured out who the dirty kid eating like a pig by himself was we got to talking. One family was from America and the other from Australia.
It's amazing how fast my world changes leaving a nice resort and then comong back to real life in Tanna. One minute I'm speaking English in a normal conversation, next I'm swatting flies down a dirt road as everyone stares at the white man. The next day I started to feel sick, headache and dizziness. It got worse the next day and I was stuck in bed. I knew it was getting bad when I was sleeping in pants and longsleaves under a wool blanket in 80 degree weather. After a few days of this I decided to test myself for malaria. I was actually hoping to test positve, that way I know what I had and I could treat it with malaria medicine. The results was negitive. Not long after I started feeling better and feel pretty much back to full strength.
Sunday at church men stood up and gave "toktoks" about me. They say their ancestors said a white man would come to them in the future and that I'm here fulfilling a prophecy now, they're dead serious too. All in a days work.
Just a note...I was asked by my brother's wife to name her new baby. There is now a Leslie living in Tanna!

A little update

Ok, so I realize I haven't been doing the best job lately at keeping up on my blog. I blame this on two things. First, would be the absolutely terrible computers and internet that I am able to access a few times a month. Yeah, I know it's an excuse, but it's still valid. Secondly, I've become too used to life here, and many of the daily sights I see have become routine and no longer as interesting to me. It would be like you writing about how you woke up in the morning and brushed your teeth and drove to work. No one really wants to hear about it. But then I realize that my life isn't quite what many people would consider "normal", so maybe I should do a better job at keeping people up to date.
As some of you know, I went back to Port Vila a few weeks ago. I went to the airport in Tanna and went through the normal check in routine, which is quite simple. First I stand on a scale. They measure everyone's weight before flying, because the plane is quite small, and a little extra weight isn't the best thing to have when flying over open ocean water in a plane the size of a car. Next I pass through security. This entails a man putting a sticker that says security on everything that I am carrying on the plane. He doesn't even look inside my bag. They're very trusting people. I once carried my bush knife (a 2 foot machete) with me to go on the plane. I was stopped in security so they could put a security sticker on it, and then I proceeded on. No joke. I noticed a few tourists at the airport. They opted not to take the flight after they saw the size of the plane. I boarded the plane, which seriously felt like the size of a car. The pilot routinely turned around and talked to us. The ride was sort of like a roller coaster, dropping and climbing at what felt like only a few hundred meters over the blue water. Man Tanna (what we call natives of Tanna) clearly aren't used to flying. The man sitting next to me looked very nervous and felt compelled to read his bible incase something went wrong. The other people were very anxious too. The flight was only one hour, yet they must have asked what time it was 5 times, just wishing the hour was up. And Man Tanna never ask what time it is. Before that flight, I didn't even know they had a concept of time. But we eventually made it safely to Port Vila.
Walking into the airport there, I was immediately taken back by the sights of TV's, computers, and pay phones. Woah. I found a bus and took it town, where I proceeded directly to the grocery store. Woah again. So many choices, what do I want to eat first? I bought a combination of junk food and headed to a near by hotel where I had a room reserved. As I walked along the road to the hotel, I couldn't help but feel giddy. I saw other white people, lots of trucks and cars, paved roads, and stores that are actually stores, not just a tin hut with terrible tin fish and rice inside. I got to my room and was once again taken back. At this point I couldn't stop laughing, it was just too much. I had a clean room, a real bed, a fan, electricty, and a HOT SHOWER!
Throughout the next week, I had meetings everyday with an environmental orginazation that I am coordinating my work with. Everyday, from 7:30-4:30, I sat inside a building and discussed work plans and budgeting. Now sitting in a meeting is not an easy thing for me to do. But after taking me from the bush, where there is no such thing as time, chairs, buildings, and power point presentations, the meetings were pure torture. I fidgeted in my seat like a 3 year old for 5 straight days. I will never work an office job in my life, and you can quote me on that.
Besides the meeting, I enjoyed meeting up with some other volunteers in Vila. We went sailing at sundown one afternoon and went out for Thai and Sushi other nights. I also ate a pizza nearly every day, and bought ice cream and chocalate at every store, even if I had just bought some at the previous store.
The city life gets old though, and I was ready to return to Tanna. I took a slightly larger plane on the way back, which held about 10-15 people and one very loud crying baby. I returned to my house that afternoon. It was good to be back, see my family, and see that my dog was still alive and kicking. Being back in the bush was quite a change. Going from Vila to the village life is always an adjustment, but this just isn't any village in the bush. This is most likely the smallest village in Tanna, maybe even in Vanuatu now that I think about it. My papa, my mama, brother, two sisters, nephew, and niece. A total of 7 people, living in a quiet clearing in the jungle. Can't get much more peaceful than that.
As glad as I was to be back, I realized that I still had to adjust to bush life again, even after only being in Vila for less than two weeks. Back to eating the same bland, sometime inedible food everyday (but which is also free). Back to bathing in the ice cold, fish filled stream. And back to hiking 30 minutes to carry drinking water back home; drinking water which ended up quickly infecting me with giardia for the second time. For those of you who haven't had giardia, be glad. I tell my family that I'm sick. They tell me it's because I've walked around too much. No that's not it I tell them. It's because you exercised all day they say. What?! That makes no sense. But how do you explain to them that you've got a protozoan parasite inside of you when they have no concept of any organism smaller than what they can see with their own eyes. After a few days of medicine I was feeling better and able to be out and about more.
I went and visited a near by village (hour and a half walk one way) because they have an area of jungle that they are interested in making a conservation area. I arrived and the first thing I hear is that "oh, you've become fatfat now". That is atleast the fifth time I have heard that in a matter of a few days. The thing is, I haven't even gained weight, if anything, I've lost it. I now know that they think that everytime someone goes into Vila they get fat from eating all different kinds of food, as opposed to the same root crops we eat every single day. I've also heard them call people who are in incredible shape fatfat too, so I'm still not sure whether to take it as a compliment or not. Anyways, I brought with me a GPS unit to map out the conservation area. I head into the bush with about five other guys, who will lead me along the boundaries of the area, which they have memorized just by looking at trees and other natural boundary markers. The walk is INTENSE. We start out in a dry stream bed, which heads straight up the hill. I'm holding onto anything I can, rocks, roots, small plants, and vines, to pull myself up. I reach one section of rock which is vertical. Even Man Tanna is having problems getting up the hill. One man even fell and had a nice sharp stick leave a lasting impression into his shin. We finally make it to the top though, rising 450 meters with out a whole lot of horizontal gain. After a breif walk along the top, we have to head back down the other side. Going down is just as hard, if not harder. Gravity wants to pull me down faster than I would rather go. At one point, I have no choice but to "ski" down, except instead of skis I have bare feet. We get down into the valley again, so far down, that the GPS cannot find satellite reception. I find a tree to climb for better reception, but after only a few feet up I find out the hard way it is a "stinging" tree. My group points out a strong vine, which twists like a snake from the top of the canopy down to the ground. They tell me it is strong and can hold me. I believe them, why shouldn't I? They know the bush better than anyone. I start pulling myself up the vine. At about 30 feet up I hear a crack, which signals to me to hold on tight. I take a fun, quick ride back down to the forest floor. Lucky for me it wasn't the vine that broke, but the branch holding it. It was sort of like a bungee cord, letting me fall to what felt like just a few inches off the ground, where I was able to land on my feet. Everyone had a great laugh about that. They have a different sense of humor, sort of like the three stuges, where getting hurt is funny. But I was hurt in the end, so I just laughed along. By this point though, I told them it wasn't important for me to climb anything else to get satellite reception, we can just continue on. We all finished the hike in one piece though.
That is the only work for the project that I've really done since coming back into Tanna. Now is the time for holidays, so everyone takes a break from working, even though no one works in the first place, but that's besides the point. I've been killing my free time with lots of drawing, exercising, reading, and staring at walls. After a week straight of boredom though, I decided to take a break and come into Lenakel, the "city" I am in now. I started walking at 4:30 this morning to the nearest road to catch a truck into town. I found a truck after an hour, and just squeezed into the back of it. Well, I actually was on the outside of the truck. One man was holding onto my hand so I wouldn't fall off, and the man holding onto me was holding onto another man so he wouldn't fall of too. ha. It was like clowns riding a little circus car. It wasn't quite a car, but I would consider it a rather small truck. I was so impressed that I took the time to count the 24 of us who fit onto it. So for the rest of today I'm just relaxing, meeting up with a few volunteers, and then it's back to the bush.
Sorry for such a long post, but it's been a while. I'll try to get more pictures up soon for those of you who like picture books over real ones like me.