Inside and Out Life in the Islands

An Inside out Look at Life in the Islands

Life in the Pacific Islands presents an interesting dynamic between law, culture, poverty and many other quirky things in between. Let’s take a journey and see just how special one particular place can be.

Vanuatu is comprised of an archipelago of some 86 islands in the Pacific rim of fire.

From active volcanoes to diving the depths of the deep blue sea, it is considered by many to be the Happiest Place on Earth.

With smiling faces in abundance to a never ending supply of native food, fresh water and endless sunshine it is little wonder it is considered to be paradise. These islands are rich in culture and considered to be the most linguistically diverse place on the plant per capita.

There remains however a sinister side. A side filled with Kastom and black magic.

Coming from a Western culture I arrived on Efate in 2008. Fresh off the boat so to speak I was filled with excitement and wonderment at this primitive land, that was until I learned that the airline had lost my bags. Coming from a European Winter to a tropical Summer was not the easiest of experiences, especially with nothing fresh to change into. It took 4 days to sort that out just to learn they had been on the flight all along, someone had just forgotten to offload them.

Getting there was problematic to begin with. I had gone to complete my Masters in Environmental Law at the University of the South Pacific. Following months of discussion prior to arrival my visa had not been processed but I was merely advised, just arrive and explain. It’ll be right. Sure enough it was, which should have been an indication of how this experience would be. The visa eventually came through about a month or so later.

My first experience began making my way from the airport to temporary lodgings. With trucks travelling to and fro on largely dirt roads with scores of people hanging off the back trays. No such thing as seat belts here. I settled in and began to explore.

I quickly learned life here was no ordinary beast.

Exploring the local dive centers hoping to pick up some work for dive instructing I quickly began to see the divide between white fella and black fella.

Port Vila being the capital being largely white man controlled. Not hard to understand why with the average wage for a Ni-Vanuatu being $170 per hour and the average cost of a beer being upwards of $4.00.

You could take a bus anywhere for $1.20 and the market was always stuffed with kakai blong aeslan (food from the islands).

Pigin is the national language, a crude form of English with a French mix and a few other words integrated from island language. An interesting dynamic.

I moved to University lodgings shortly afterward and here the adventure begins. As I began getting to know people I quickly learned of the local watering holes. Voodoo, a quaint yet dark bar where a gal could get free drinks just for throwing her knickers on a line above the bar then dance the night away with no shoes on seemed to be a favorite among the ex pat population.

My first interaction with my Uni Supervisor, an interesting Australian chap involved discussions around ensuring to take time out and not get burnt out. ‘Go get stoned’ he said. ‘You’ll love it and the weed here is especially strong’! Whoa I thought, not what I was expecting.

Moving forward and getting used to the dive scene I was ready to get wet and get out meeting people. On my first days diving I took out a group of divers from all different experience levels. The hire gear was essentially held together with cable ties and various other island fixes, much the same as the boats outboard motors.

Life in the islands is nothing short of resilience based. Never mind the safety aspects, if it works, it will be ok.

As life progressed further, I was introduced to kava, a native root crop which is particularly strong in the rich volcanic soils here. It is difficult to describe. Start by taking a shell (half a coconut shell), turn your back on the people you are with and drink it down in one. Rejoin the party and lt the spitting commence. Hocking and spitting and smoking ad eating. 3-4 shells later the effect begins. I am looking at my legs. I can see my legs. Where are my legs. I can’t feel my legs. I know I have legs but what happened to my legs. Time for a nap under the big Banyan tree. Banyan trees are sacred in these parts as they are believed to be where the spirits go after they pass. Wise words come from the trees in the evenings, depending on how many shells have been taken.

As a single white female new to these parts I learned the ropes quickly. The language barrier was easy to overcome, just think of it as a child learning how to speak. If you can’t think of a word, just make it up. A babies pram becomes a bebe truck, food is kaikai, roofing is kappa (as in cover) and very angry people are kranki man which also serves for crazy.

Women have a specific role to play which generally involves keeping house and minding the children. What makes Port Vila an interesting melting pot is the interaction between local people and expats. There is an interesting synergy which stems between intimidation, fear and respect.

I quickly learned that there are no traffic rules. Indeed prior to Independence the land was ruled between Britain and France with each side having their own ways of doing things. Roundabouts were split and depending on who had built it depended on which side you went around.

As time went on, new pop ups came about from ex pat development. No such thing as copyright or brand protection here. Everything is up for grabs and when someone does come up with a new idea, there are ten others right behind waiting to jump on the band wagon.

My brother came to visit. After a night out we took a bus home and he was not interested in heading back to bed. A conversation ensued whereby he thought he was asking the driver to take me home and then take him out to a party. This translated to ‘I get your sister and you have mine’. Yep, he sold me to the driver. Eventually after a rather interesting tongue down my throat the situation was resolved. I still bring this up to this day.

The time came for me to buy my very first car. With a limited budget available a friend said to me he had an old one he was not using. I went to have a look and wow. Not kidding it was held together by rust, holes in the floor, the wipers didn’t work and the passenger door was cable tied on. The wheels were good though and it started. The deal was done. The trouble with Port Vila being every year a car needs to have a road worthy for registration. This would prove to be interesting.

My license had been procured and I was ready to hit the road despite having only a learners license from home.

Corruption in the islands is rife. One thing about it however, unlike in the west, it is open corruption. There is no hiding behind any smoke screens. T is almost like, yep, I’m corrupt and I’m proud.

Working at this point in Anti Corruption this was a tough pill to swallow as there was huge responsibility to donor funders.

I once imported a box of Cuban cigars in as a gift for Christmas. It was stopped by Customs and when asked about it the officer said, ‘hmmm, Monte Cristo, is wan old movie’, yep. He was more concerned with the $2 baubles for my tree.

Throughout the islands Kastom changes quite drastically. On Tanna, murder may be forgiven with the exchange of pigs and mats. Maewo believe heavily in black magic and when suspected of breaking into peoples huts without breaking in, they may be forgiven and left free once their bellies are cut out and stuffed with Namele leaves and left on the beach where it is believed the spirits would be banished and they would get up and walk free as clean people. On Pele, the spirits from the Banyan trees talk to young men in the evenings and ensure good order is maintained between the villages.

Eratoka or Hat Island is home to the mass grave of Chief Roymate. It is said that the Chief was killed by his brother and placed in a sandstone cave on Lelepa. Strange things began happening and the locals got scared believing it was the chiefs spirit cursing the island. His body was moved to Eratoka where he was buried along with his loyal soldiers, their families and even their dogs who were all buried alive. The men of course could drink Kava and just go to sleep. The women however were not allowed and simply had to lay and be buried alive.

Tanna is home to one of the most accessible active volcanoes in the world. Mt Yasur, another infamous and sacred place can be climbed right to the rim. No safety rails here. Sitting on the rim you can see lava booming out of the three craters making the whole mountain shake.

Getting to Tanna was an interesting adventure. Arriving late to the airport owing to a series of unfortunate events, a private charter was offered at no extra expense. The pilot however was still in the club as we left the night before and was falling off of his chair. Scary ride no less but we made it. Phew.

Past the ash planes of Mt Yasur lies the John Frum community. This community has an interesting twist. They believe that Prince Phillip of the UK is from Tanna and he will return again someday to his rightful home.

Moving on to Pentecost another interesting tradition takes place here every year. At the time of the yam harvest sacred towers are erected some 20m high. There are a number of levels strapped to these towers and young boys up to grown men take their turn to jump head first off these towers to kiss the ground and pray for a fruitful yam harvest. The higher up the chiefly system the person sits, the higher the tier they jump off.

Espiritu Santo is the biggest island in the chain. This island contains the second largest social hub. It is home to the SS President Coolidge, an old US warship which continues to sink down the reef drop off sitting presently at over 70m at its deepest point. Million dollar point also lives here where following the war the US had offered to sell machinery and other materials to the local Government. When this was refused, rather than hand the materials over as a gift they were simply scuttled into the sea.

As time progresses, time changes within the islands and the cities. State law prevails however Kastom remains over ruling owing to the lack of resources and police presence in the outer islands.

Often in the cities, police are unavailable due to lack of fuel to get to crime scenes, that is, if you can get them on the phone to begin with. The Navy has similar issues due to lack of fuel and often materials being stolen from the ship.

Businesses come and businesses go but life continues to move forward. With the arrival of Pizza Hot (Pizza Hut knock off) the doors opened for further chain stores to open up around the capital.

As a group of islands situated right in the middle of the Pacific rim of fire and the tropical Pacific, the islands are prone to earthquakes and cyclones.

Following the destruction caused by Cyclone Pam, from which the islands are still trying to recover, a true sign of resilience shone through, along with a true show of sheer greed.

The islands began undergoing a huge shift in how things were working. Aid funding began filtering through at an unprecedented level and the misuse both in Government and private sector was rife.

Driving to the airport on one particular day, the car was rear ended by a bus driver who was eating his lunch at the wheel and simply forgot to break. As the police were called and arrived it was discovered he did not even have a license. However, as he was cousin brother of the officer who attended, it became our fault.

Boats sink, houses fall down, businesses come and go. To say, I have no money is to be answered with ‘just go back to Australia and get some more’. No concept of where it comes from and how hard it is to make it.

It is not uncommon to walk into the laundry and find staff asleep all over the floor.

Island medicine is a regular cause of serious illness and death and magic leaves are enough to banish you from any workplace.

Still, for all it’s quirks and failings, it is a place of wonderment.

Where else can you cuddle with dugongs, swim with turtles, drive around in a car with its bumper tied on with concrete ties and watch idly by as staff screed concrete in bare feet with a mixture so dense it has gone glowing green and still have a smile on everyone’s face at the end of the day.

Life in the islands may not be easy, but it is never dull, for that you can be sure.