The Night of the Centipede

10.18.07

The wind has been blowing very hard off and on for the last four days. There have even been some small showers. It is a very strange weather pattern. Some have said that there is a tropical depression over near the Solomon Islands. Just a few hundred miles away. I have felt three earthquakes in the last week. I can even tell the approximate magnitude. Comes with fifty-seven years of living in California. Some of the trainees haven’t felt of recognized them. They have never felt one in their lives. Anyway the times are strange. It is the beginning of the cyclone season in this part of the world.
I continue to struggle with speaking Bislama. I understand what is being said and can also understand it when written. But I need to start really trying to think in Bislama. The trainers have split the group into fourths in order to assist those at different levels of competency. I’m in the novice group (lowest level). Also there are the other two olfalas. I know I’m working hard. I’ll get it, but it takes much practice.
I believe I have found out which island I will be going to for my eventual work. It looks like it will be Epi. It is a medium sized island at the apex of the “Y” shape of Vanuatu. The Rural Training Center is on the north end of the island. It is a developed site, but the last volunteer there apparently had some personality problems with the locals. The staff here seems to feel I have basically the opposite personality and my sales and human resources experience should assist me in reestablishing the training center. The key word will be “patience”. Hey that’s the thing I came here to practice. Practice, practice, practice. Seems to be my new mantra.
Last night I asked my host brother, Ricky if I could assist him in making bread. He is the local baker of “local bread”. He was pleased to have me come along. In fact I did most of the work for the batch of ten loafs. He is a very good instructor. I was an enthusiastic student. It is not that difficult, in fact the work doesn’t take more than maybe an hour of labor. It is the time in between that requires “patience”. The dough is given two opportunities to rise and then there is the baking. We had time to go home and eat dinner. Then we listen as sister, Jinnet sang next door and later she came out and we storian (talked, laughed, shared). Later we strain with Eddie (PCV assigned here). He has come up to see if the news on the village coconut wireless that I, Kalowia, am making bread is correct. We determine what the profit margin is. It cost approximately 50 vatu to make a loaf and it is sold for 100 vatu (about $1). So for a batch of ten loafs about $5 will be earned for the labor. This morning Ricky came and told me that he sold all the bread in a matter of a few minutes and so he had to make another batch. Hey that Kalowia bread just flew out the door. Apparently I get noticed a lot. Who me? Go figure. Ha Ha!!
The other big news was my chasing foul and killing it. As a cultural experience the trainees were given the opportunity to capture three chickens. The chickens here run wild. It takes some work to surround one and capture it. We were really all a bunch of goofs. At one point we had a rooster trapped behind a piece of plywood leaning against a building. I reached in and grabbed its tail feather. I came out with just that, tail feather. After the three chickens were caught someone had to kill them. I volunteered for one. I tried wringing its neck but failed and had to beat its head with a heavy piece of wood. Not too easy as I held the rooster by its feet with my left hand and swung at its head. The first two times I swung I raised my left hand. It was like swinging at a piñata as it is pulled up. I got the job done and then plucked all the feathers off it. Another cultural experience. I’m sure I may have to do this again. The chickens were gutted and prepared for the next night’s five day feast to complete the mourning for the fallen PCV.

10.20.07

Getting to know this village is so easy. Anyone is ready to stop and talk anytime you pass by. And of course it seems everyone is related in some form or manner. So everyone here is my adopted family. I have several little ones taken me as their own. Same with Soti the dog.
Last night was a special occasion. The local French school (Ecole Publique de Roau) is less than a one hundred yards from my door. They had a fund raising all evening. Music, performance by the children and a large adult group from Lelepa, the neighboring island village were this community split from in 1983. Here we are in the middle of a storm. Heavy winds and occasional down ours interspersed with drizzle and yet the people. Nothing deterred them from the occasion.
Families showed up with plates and umbrellas. Papas and PCTs headed for the kava. Mamas dispensed the food. Laplap, rice, chicken, local bread. The children danced and frolicked. The band consisted of two keyboards. They usually tune and practice in between each number. Each number also ends abruptly. No crescendo. It just ends. Of course the PCTs and kids danced. Boys and girls don’t dance together here. They dance individually or in groups, but not coed. Adults watch. I asked brother, Ricky about this at breakfast this morning. He said Papas have been drinking kava and Mamas are too tired. One young boy was quite a mover. He danced with me, then on to some of the other fellas. I have a reputation as the dancing man. I’m uninhibited, but I think it also stems from my age and that the people here are fairly amazed at me as a bit of a phenomena. I hope they don’t see as the bow legged Captain Bligh played by Trevor Howard in The Mutiny on the Bounty starring Marlon Bando. Anyway it was an evening of good times outside right in the middle of a storm.
Most of the trainees have left for the weekend to another island off north Efate. There may be six of us here. I have read Maarten Troost’s book Getting Stoned with Savages. While it is familiar because over half of it is about Vanuatu I didn’t find it nearly as much fun as The Sex Lives of Cannibals. I macramed a decoration on another trainees hat. A creative outlet. I then pasted together a banner for my mama. She has been away a whole week. Because of the weather she be gone an extra couple of days. She is definitely missed. Of course the dynamics of the household is quite different. Aina, the daughter in law is able to speak and laugh with out mama around. No wonder brides cry at their weddings here in Vanuatu. They are going to have to live with there in laws and that must be pretty tough.
This morning it was raining and blowing hard. I decided to storian for a couple of hours with Papa. I got down on the floor. I am served my meals at the table, sometimes he sits there with me. Sometimes I’m alone and the rest of the family is on the floor. So I climbed down and it created a whole new experience. Suddenly I was even more assessable to the three little girls. They crawled on me, played ball, shared toys. While I was talking with Papa about a multitude of things the little ones felt comfortable with me. This is a very good object lesson. You need to get to someone else’s level in order for them to accept you. Soon I’m going to have to do that in my new home. We have been in country for four weeks. It seems like more. Everything has slowed down. I am eating slower. I’m taking my time with everything I do. While we have classes and they should start at certain times, they inevitably don’t. We get done what needs to be done. I feel very at ease.
I just came from dinner. It was corn bread, buttered local bread, crackers and orange leave tea. I ate the corn bread. Took the crackers for later and drank a cup of the tea. I’ll have an apple in a bit. While I ate Jinnet played with her three year old Joana. They laughed, tickled, played a form of patty cake. It was so easy. I was there watching. They knew it but didn’t take much notice. This was their time together. It is amazing how easy they all are with so many in such close quarters. The house is approximately eight hundred square feet. Six rooms. Four of them bedrooms, with a fairly wide central hall. Almost half of the house is the open living room and half walled kitchen. Although I haven’t seen but glimpses of one bedroom through the curtained doorway, I assume that one room is Mama and Papas, one is Ricky, his wife and the two children’s, on is Jinnet and Joana’s and the other is Willie’s. They have privacy. But can you imagine eight people in that space. Cooperation, respect, love and patience.

10.21.07
I had another great opportunity to observe and experience more cooperation, respect, love and patience this afternoon. The brothers and sister of my papa came here from Vila to discuss the arrangements for an upcoming wedding. There were five siblings (the youngest does live on Efate) and a couple of others from the next generation and then several children ranging from three to maybe fourteen. I had just come back from a nice long walk and I was asked to come meet the family. After introductions I was asked to tell about myself and then I was asked to sit with the family as they discussed the wedding plans. Although I didn’t understand most of what was said it was easy to ascertain the outstanding listening skills that were being used. Everyone got their say. No arguing. They worked towards a complete consensus. During the discussion one younger boy, perhaps twelve controlled the very young ones. Two teenaged girls were working in the kitchen, boiling water for tea and cutting the local bread that Ricky had made. They then served it with the usual butter and peanut butter on it. The discussion started with a pray and ended with one. They discussed the date and why it had to be on a Wednesday. Apparently the will be some sort of holiday that coming weekend and the grooms family has some people from outer islands that need to be accommodated. Accommodating is what they are. They must make it work for everyone. And they did so. The United Nations could surely learn from this example.

10.22.07
It is raining very heavily. It has been for almost 20 hours. Yet life goes on. It just after lunch. Outside my window my sister in law is washing clothes. Right out in the rain. Scrub, scrub goes her brush. Over under the roof of my family’s porch is the chief, Papa, and three other men. They are talking away. Storian. It is a big part of the man’s role.
Everyone is back from the weekend trip. Two third of the group left and it was a pleasure to have so little exposure to Americans. It’s not that I don’t like them but I am tried of them. I know I need more training, especially in Bislama but I so desire to immerse myself in Ni-Van culture.

10.23.07
Boy did I have an experience last night. I had just finished dinner and was leaving the family house. As I went to put my sandals on I grasped the door jam. It felt like I had been poked by a high voltage wire. The pain seared through my thumb. I had just been bitten by a centipede. It was “wan bigfala sor”. My thumb began to swell. I stuck it in some hot orange leaf tea. Wrong thing to do I late found out. I walked up to the Peace Corps office. June there took an onion and rubbed the swollen thumb for about ten minutes. The pain went down considerably. Twenty four hours later my thumb is still a bit swollen and sore to the touch but the onion did the trick. It was actually the second bite by a centipede this week. The previous own was a baby not even a half inch long and I swished it as I bite me. A little white flower oil and It was fine. Last night Ricky found and killed the big culprit. Or so he thought. This morning after I came back from my walk I asked to look at it. It was actually only half dead. By half I mean two inches was hanging from two more inches that still wiggled away. We picked it up with a stick and brought it out where I ground it into the coral.