Ambae / Maewo Trip

(Girl Ambae in kastom dress)

(Looking out to Lake Monaro)

(Jumping at Big Wota with Bridget)

(Posing at Big Wota)

(Wrote this story today for the Peace Corps newsletter...)

The recent walk-about to Ambae and Maewo was eventful. I will not bore you with the details, as over-exposure has made me apathetic towards breath-taking scenery by now and I am writing in a hurry anyway. Let’s just say that everything looked “naes we” (Bislama for very nice) and I will try to focus on writing about what I found interesting.

Northern Vanuatu is hot. In the summer time, I probably would not notice and state something so blatantly obvious. But now that we have blanket and sweatshirt temps down south on Aneityum, I think it is worth mentioning. I spent the first day sweating excessively around Ed and Beth’s mansion. “Black Billy” DeLancey showed us around town, as Ed and Beth were away exploring Tanna during our visit. We dined on omelets at sassy Celia’s take away restaurant. Our rowdy group drew a crowd of onlookers as we splashed around the black sand beach and Arthur did headstands. Tim (who I now refer to as “Bed Brother”) and I shared a small, not so supple mattress while further confined in a narrow mosquito net. We slept outside on the mansion’s veranda overlooking a bay, praying that even the faintest whisper of a breeze might reach us, but were sadly disappointed.

Mobile phones chirping woke us at 4:15 AM, before even ambitious faol considered singing out and we were bouncing along on a pickup truck by 5:10 AM. We would hike Monaro that day. I suggested to Billy that we simply travel to a village, story with some yangfala, and begin a low-key hike to the top. Nothing touristy- just good ole exploring with the locals. Our arrival in Serembulu was less than low key however.

A bubu shell announced the arrival of our pickup truck. Women in kastom dress hung flower necklaces on our necks. Men beat on tam-tam like drums. Green coconuts were offered to us as we were ushered to seats of honor in a sparkling clean nakamal. The village chief welcomed us and local women performed kastom dances. Arthur and Tim coerced myself, Bob and Billy into doing a kastom dance from Tanna to say thank you for the village’s hearty welcome and the locals were so pleased they told Arthur that they intended to give us a small pig in appreciation. There was no breaking bush along the road, the path to the top was clean and well planned, support hand rails were even built in the extremely muddy areas. A string band awaited us after an hour’s trek up a large hill along the path. Cut sugar cane dangled from trees at planned rest stops. We swam in chilly Lake Monaro. As I tread water on top of the volcanic crater lake and stared at ash rising from not so distant vents, an eerie feeling of impending doom swept over me. This was quickly forgotten at lunch time, when tin fish and Ding Dongs were woofed down at alarming speeds.

The Serembulu road to the top of Mt. Monaro was advertised as taking only 2 hours to traverse. It took us 4 ½ hours to reach the summit and 3 hours to return. My savats became utterly useless when coated in softmud, so I hiked 90% of the road barefoot. Bob and I took turns informing each other of which stones along the path were “mother f**kers” as our toes bled freely and sores began to manifest. Rachel soared ahead of us on the return back to the village and I wondered if I might spend the entire night walking barefoot through the bush when we suddenly reemerged in Serembulu to receive fresh stone ground kava, kumala lap lap and prawn wasemaot.

A south Ambae man named Bob (or “Cool Bob” as I refer to him to distinguish from “White Bob”) followed us back to the mansion to provide Mount Monaro tattoos to our group. I drank kava with “Cool Bob” but I was the only one to refuse a tattoo as I have little desire to contract hepatitus or explain why an equal sign (the Monaro tattoo) has been tattooed on my buttox for the remainder of my life.

The women of Ambae are all beautiful as a rule. I almost feel as if I have been cheated living on Aneityum the past 2 years, where the supply of females is limited to say the least. In Serembulu, the chief’s daughter joined our Monaro expedition. When she refused to tell me her name, I gave her a new kastom name, “Kumala Lap Lap.” Kumala Lap Lap teased me the entire trek but when we returned to the village she and her father presented me with a large take-away portion of kumala lap lap which I took as a symbolic gesture that I was being offered Kumala Lap Lap as a bride. I shook hands awkwardly and boarded the pickup truck to the mansion with my starchy snack parcel.

Man Ambae said that the women of Maewo were even more attractive, so you can imagine how excited I was to observe this in person. Facilitating the BUILD workshop and seeing the picturesque waterfalls on the island might be mildly rewarding as well I supposed.

The BUILD / GLOW camp made me feel more like a hippy than I have ever felt in my life. There were tye-dye shirts, friendship bracelets, frisbees, hacky sacks, feelings were shared and we actually sang “Kumbaeya”. The word "Dude" was tossed around liberally. We bonded well with the youth after spending every waking moment for three days with them. A lot of important information was delivered on subjects such as leadership and sexual health, but whether they absorbed it or not remains to be seen. But one thing’s for sure- they know how to throw a frisbee pretty damn well now!

Maewo volunteers are lucky to be on such a remarkable island. With the exception of the recent poisonings / brutal murders that took place in Justin / Sheridan’s community- the place seemed swell! Actually, it’s probably because I was expecting to be ambushed the entire trip that I found all of the locals so remarkably friendly. I had never interacted with Justin and Sheridan before, I had only respected Justin’s mustache from a safe distance and had typed up a story Sheridan submitted to the newsletter (which I accidentally deleted- sorry again!). But they are a humorous couple whose company I enjoyed. Sandy ran the camps with the full support of her community and was extremely organized. I fault her only for owning a kitten that likes to assault sleeping humanitarians in the wee hours of the morning. Arthur and Bob, who slept on Sandy’s veranda would take turns in the night of tossing the kitten inside of her house (where I was in sweet repose) and shutting the door until I was attacked by the wild feline and became annoyed enough to arise and toss it back outside. Thus we named this puskat “The Hand Grenade,” and we handled it with deadly care before tossing it lest we be scratched by razor sharp claws. Justine hosted us for a night at her place where we dined on pasta cross-eyed after experiencing stone ground Maewo kava for the first time.

Big Water, a series, or rather one massive, spread out waterfall in north Maewo was a highlight of the trip. We also dove off a smaller but also enjoyable waterfall in Central Maewo after exploring Moon Cave. These are “naes we” places and need to be seen first hand to be understood.

When it was time to return to Vila / Aneityum, it was a sad day. A group of villagers treked down to stoney shore to wave goodbye to our boat and the gloomy weather drizzled in respect to the occasion. Couldn’t we spend one more week on Maewo?