A different kind of day

10.12.07

It’s Friday morning at the end of week three. I started walking in the morning this week. I get up at 5:30AM. Do I have a choice? Early to bed and when the roosters begin to crow forget about the snooze button. Actually they start crowing a bit earlier but I wait until it’s light out. I get out of bed, open my window, climb into some shorts and T-shirt, open the door and greet the world. Still don’t Mama up. There is little activity as I start walking. At first I did a circuit around the village. Takes about eight minutes and five “malbongs” (good morning). Then I ventured down the jungle road to the beach. I get as far as a pumpkin patch and turn back. This morning I decided to go up the road towards Vila (the city). Did I say up? Ten minutes and was breathing hard. I forgot that we come over a mountain to get here. So it was uphill. I will have to work on my breathing and get smaller and stronger. Anyway I like the morning walk. Saying malbong to everyone I see. Everyone smiles and say “Malbong Kalowia”. I am easily recognized and have a bit of a bigfala reputation already.
Speaking of reputations. I believe that several of the twenty something volunteers see me as the epitome of what they idealistically see as what’s wrong with America. It is a generation gap. It is not important that I cross it. I’m not here for them but for the Ni-Vans and myself. If I need to work with them I’ll be able to. Although I desire to get smaller and calmer in both size and personality, there are times when my experience and personality take over. When something must get done, I’ll do it.
Night before last the training team made an experiential testing of all the women trainees. There is a local courting phenomenon called “creeping”. A boy or man comes to a girl’s window at night to attract their attention and see if they can begin something. Unfortunately when it is perpetrated towards a white woman it can be disturbing as well as possibly dangerous. So the trainee staff staged a creeping exercise. The women had several reactions. One screamed, another cussed, most ignored it and a few even slept through it. Apparently each host mama was supposed to be there to inform the woman of the exercise soon afterwards. Unfortunately several didn’t. In the morning there was much talk and consternation. When the security director, Relvie arrived to give her talk on the subject she was greeted with less than thrilled women. They came to understand and recognized the importance of their individual reactions but it took a lot of discussion. Again much like military training or scuba diving or really anything it is important to have a taste of the possibility. Pull off the gas mask and experience the gas, have your air cutoff in a pool before you venture into open water.
Last night I cooked dinner for my family. Their first taste of Italian American cuisine. I had an audience as I chopped mushrooms, onions and bell pepper and sautéed them. Boiled the ziti penne pasta, crated cheese and fried hamburger (amazing how little fat in it). With a bottled spaghetti sauce mixed into it all I placed it in the oven. Sliced the bread loafs long, a strisel of oil and some of Rudy’s (Cera Una Volta chef in Alameda) green salt. Into the oven at the last few minutes. Then I served it. I think it was a success. Papa had three helpings.
Well it has been quite a day and it’s only 3 PM. We arrived at the community mango tree for classes at 9 AM. Brenda the Assistant PCMO arrived a few minutes later. She came with disturbing news. A PCV named John had died yesterday on Erromango (one of Vanuatu’s smaller islands in the south). John was 24 and was concluding his serve in just a month. He and a villager were accidentally killed when a large limb of a tree came crashing down on them during a community work project. This is a sad day for the Peace Corps community. John had trained here in Mangaliulu. The village has shut down for the day. No classes, no work. People just sitting around communing. We had a prayer, some questions and everyone started to find ways to deal with the news and the rest of the day. Five of us decided to take a wokabaot up behind the village. We didn’t get to the top of the hill but we did find the water system for the village and later walked through some jungle gardens. After our regular lunch prepared by the mamas I was talking with Jacki (our senior at 72) when two of our trainers came to inform us of the plans for services tomorrow in Vila. We went to let others know. Although none of us ever met John we will all go in for the service.
My host mama, Winnie left for a week trip to Ambryn a short while ago. Winnie is the secretary of the PWMU (Presperterian Women’s Mama’s Union) and trip is a very big event. Papa was taking her into Vila to catch a ship that will take up to twenty hours to get to the destination. It is not a luxury liner. From what I understand it will be very crowded and she will probably have to sleep on deck. She had a bundled mattress, her suitcase and a bundle of coconut straw to sell as brooms. Earlier in the week I had given her a simple book bag and a pen and note paper. After breakfast I also gave her a small flashlight. As the truck arrived to take her, Papa and a few others to Vila and incredible send off occurred. There must have been thirty people, mamas, papas, and children come to see her off. Everyone shaking her hand and wishing her a good journey. Her two granddaughters (3 and 2) were both crying. Totally inconsolable. The last thing she said to me was that I should stray to far down the roads on my morning wokabaot. So sweet.