1999-2004: The South Pacific 

We arrived in Vanuatu with the fleet from Fiji in the Musket Cove to Port Vila "race" (prize for the smallest fish caught;  the fastest boat was automatically eliminated because "they must have tried too hard").  We stayed in this mysterious country about three weeks before continuing on to New Caledonia.  Black Magic, penis sheaths, Jon Frum cargo cultists, active volcanoes, tame dugongs, sand drawings, ridiculously strong kava  -- Vanuatu had it all.

From an email sent later from New Caledonia

Before New Caledonia we spent about a month in Vanuatu (the former New Hebrides, named by Captain Cook Vanuatu has to be the most interesting country we have visited thus far. Port Vila, the modern capital city, contrasts sharply with unchanging, traditional villages on the adjacent islands. Vanuatu has more than eighty islands divided into three groups, two of which we were able to visit. The islands form part of a chain of volcanic activity stretching from New Zealand up through Vanuatu and the Solomons to the islands off New Guinea. We climbed two active volcanoes during our visit: Mt. Vetlam, on the island of Ambrym, and Mt. Yasur, on Tanna Island. The former was a difficult nine hour (round-trip) trek, first through tropical forest, then along a sinuous lava flow of 1913, bordered by palms and huge tree ferns, then clambering over and around the boulders in a dry creekbed. At the summit we stood on the lip of the crater, with sulfur smoke swirling past, and below us a lake of boiling lava. We were the last party to climb Mt. Vetlam this year, since the locals believe that the yam gods get mad if anyone climbs their sacred mountain after October 1.

 Mt. Yasur was a lot easier: a Toyota land cruiser drove us across big black dunes of volcanic ash to within a hundred yards of the summit. Once on top, we listened to the "heavy breathing" of the volcano, punctuated irregularly by loud explosions which hurled huge lava boulders high into the air. The Cargo cultists of Tanna Island believe that Jon Frum (as in "John From America") lives beneath the fires of Yasur, where he commands an army of 5,000 souls. These followers believe that ships like those that came to the New Hebrides in 1942 will return laden with cargo, escorted by Jon Frum. The movement declares that money must be thrown away, pigs killed, and gardens left uncared for, since all material wealth will be provided in the end by Jon Frum. In the Jon Frum village we visited, the children are not even sent to school. The members of another village, Yaohnanen, believe that Prince Philip, who visited in 1974, will return to rule over them.

At Epi Island we anchored in Lamen Bay where we became friends with the headmistress of the local school. Some of you received Dana's report of the Black Magic story she related to us (if you didn't, and would like a copy, please let Dana know). What he didn't tell you is that Lamen Bay is famous for its turtles and its dugong. The turtles, and there are dozens of them,are so tame that you can grab on to the back of their shells and get pulled through the water. The dugong (looks like a manatee with a fish tail) spends its time grazing off the grasses on the bottom of the bay. He (she?) didn't seem to mind us swimming down to stare at him or stroke his sides.

We had the opportunity to visit a traditional village on Tanna. The women wore grass skirts (and nothing else), while the men wore only nambas (penis sheaths) - National Geographic, eat your heart out. I was served kava, traditionally prepared by young women chewing and spitting out the roots of the kava plant. One cupful and I was stoned for the afternoon (Vanuatu makes the strongest kava in the South Pacific). Caren wasn't allowed any (taboo).

What else? Oh, yes. None of us caught malaria (although other yachties did), and I had a delicious meal at a French restaurant in Port Vila offering flying fox prepared in red wine -- the little critter looked so pitiful, with its beady eyes and tiny ears, that it kind of spoiled Caren's meal of fresh water prawns.

Oct 6, 2000 - Lamen Bay, Vanuatu

Dear Pancho:

Forget the mail -- it was just Brown news, which we have been receiving (and ignoring) for years.

We have finally weaned ourselves from Fiji, and are currently about three weeks into this fun little country, with active volcanoes, tiger sharks, black magic, dugongs, great people, not to mention those fine French contributions to the South Pacific: baguettes, good coffee, and pastries.  And not a stop light in the entire country. We are currently anchored in Lamen Bay, off the West coast of Epi Island. The bay is chock full of semi-tame sea turtles; the fun consists of swimming down to one, grabbing on  to its shell, and then having it pull you around. The dugongs are totally tame, and like to have their bellies scratched.

At Ambrym Island to the North we climbed to the rim of one of its two active volcanoes, a nine-hour (round trip) hike through forests, along a lava "highway" laid down in 1913, and then up through amazing light-green grassland to peer into the crater (reminded me of the Ruwenzori, but not as high). At night we could see the reflection of the lava lake in the clouds above the volcano. Way cool. Also bought a mask used in the Ram dance, saw a magic show, and feasted and danced with the locals. Good place. By the way, Vanuatu says it has the strongest kava in the Pacific. This is a true statement. I went to a kava bar in Vila, had three coconut cupfuls, and was totally blasted (in Fiji, even after dozens of cupfuls over the course of an evening, I never felt more than a slight slowing down). Scary stuff.  And, for your reading enjoyment, and to put this place in perspective, here are a few paragraphs from a National Geographic article of 1906 on the islands of the South Pacific:

"East of Fiji, life is one long, lotus-eating dream, stirred only by occasional parties of pleasure, feasting, lovemaking, dancing, and a very little gardening work. Music is the soul of the people, beauty of face and movement is more the rule than the exception, and friendliness to strangers is carried almost to excess. Westward of the Fijis lie the dark, wicked, cannibal groups of the Solomons, Banks, and New Hebrides, where life is more like a nightmare than a dream; murder stalks openly in broad daylight, people are nearer to monkeys than human beings in aspect, and music and dancing are little practiced and in the rudest possible state.

"He [the New Hebridean] is supposed to be, and is, treacherous, murderous, and vindictive. He is to the full as sensual and indolent as the Eastern Islander and lacks almost every virtue possessed by the latter. He is almost inconceivably clumsy and stupid in a house or on a plantation; almost devoid of gratitude, almost bare of natural affection; ready to avenge the smallest  slight by a bloody murder, but too cowardly to meet an enemy face to face."

You can see why we love the people here.  Another two weeks, then off to New Cal for the South Pacific festival: 2,500 singers and dancers from all over the Pacific. Held every four years in a different country each time, it should be noisy, crowded, and fun. Then to New Zealand in November to hang six months, waiting out the hurricane season. 

Life is good.

Kiss the ambassador for me. Where are you next headed?

Sam, Caren, Rachael. Dana, and Speedy the Turtle 

Vanuatu

Oct 16, 2000 - Email by Dana to family

Dear family:

Here is a story we were told about Black Magic in Vanuatu. I wrote it myself. 

       BLACK MAGIC IN VANUATU

One night aboard Rhapsodie, Ma (my teacher from Australia) mentioned to me during dinner that Mackin, the principal of Epi High School in Vanuatu, had invited some friendly German people and us to come harvest some fruits and vegetables with her up on the enormous hill. So the next morning instead of school, I went ashore to meet them. The German people were waiting for us on the pristine beach. So my dad, my Mom, and I walked with the German people to the principal's house. Everyone got in to a worn out truck and we drove off to the gardens.

We drove through a big grass airfield just a few minutes before an airplane landed on it. Once we arrived at the first garden we all jumped out of the truck. Mackin showed us around. There were lots of peanuts, corn, watermelons, yams, papayas, taro, cabbage, long beans, tomatoes, chives, chilies, mangos, and all sorts of squashes. We then walked on to the next garden. There it started raining really hard and so we all stopped under a tree and since there was nothing to do the principal told us a story. Here is the story.

When Mackin was eight years old, her uncle, who was the chief of the village and was perfectly healthy, suddenly got sick and died the next day. After the death, Mackin's parents had to go back to the Uncle's village and left Mackin and her sister alone to watch the house. In the middle of the night the girls heard dogs barking outside. Mackin's mother had always told her that when dogs were barking in the night, it means that there were bad spirits around, so you shouldn't go outside. But Mackin had never believed that. When she heard the dogs barking she looked out the window and saw a mysterious man. She thought she recognized him! She bravely hid behind the window and kept on secretly peeking to see what the man was doing. He knew that he was being observed. Black magic doesn't work when people are watching, so the man came to Mackin's verandah and started spitting leaves into her house.

Then the man ran towards the beach and the girls decided to follow him. He sat down on the beach and after a few minutes started growing at an incredibly rapid rate. Soon he looked about twice his normal size! Then theman turned in to a larger version of Mackin's uncle. She and her sister were so scared that they started screaming and calling for everyone in the village to help them. People rapidly appeared with axes and knives. When they got there, there was no man to be seen. Instead there was only a very old woman who couldn't walk properly. It would have been impossible for her to make it from her house to the beach unaided.

The villagers thought that Mackin's uncle had been killed by black magic, which only very few people knew how to do. To find out why he died, they brought doctors from Port Vila, the capital of Vanuatu, to inspect his body. In his stomach they found grass, and his lungs were filled up with sand. They had no explanation on how either of these strange things found their way into his body.

Oct 16, 2000 - Email to family from Rachael in Vanuatu

Dear family:

Here is a report I wrote on the museum in Port Vila, the capital of Vanuatu. I hope you like it:

The museum in Port Vila has old artifacts from Vanuatu and other parts of the   South Pacific. It is a very cultural museum with carvings, sea shell model boats, and money from all over the South Pacific.

A long time ago Captain James Cook stopped in what is now called Vanuatu and named it New Hebrides. The people of Vanuatu didn't like that name so they changed it to Vanuatu.

The John Frum religion is only believed on the island of Tanna. This religion believes that a man called John Frum (which comes from "John From America") is going to appear from the ocean and provide money, food, and education. The women of Vanuatu usually have to fish with mangrove roots, and men have to peel kava in order to drink it, but as soon as John Frum comes there will be no more work.

The Vanuatans carve tree fern roots. Their carvings always have a human face on one side and an animal on the other. These carvings cannot be taken to a but with a man who has attended more than one circumcision.

The most impressive artifact I saw was a giant outrigger canoe carved from wood. My favorite artifact was a model village. It was made from coconut palms and carvings.  The museum is open 40 1/2 hours a week.

Love, 

Rachael