White Sands

The Toka ceremony on Tanna was postponed for a week by the local chiefs, so this gave me some extra time to explore the island. I decided to go visit a remote area located directly next to the Mt. Yassur volcano called White Sands.

I left "Black Man Town" or Lenekel, the provincial capital, on a pickup truck owned by a local tourist operation. I rode in the back of the truck wedged in between tourist suitcases and bags of rice and local produce, inhaling a steady stream of dust and gyrating along at high speeds on a very bumpy road. I was in the back corner of the cab, where I firmly gripped onto railing along the right hand side, in case the abused latch in the back should give way. A girl from Aneityum, her grandmother and the girl's week-old infant sat on a bench directly in front of me bouncing along. It was a precarious way to travel with a new born child, the grandmother gripped onto the truck railing with one hand and shielded the bundled baby in her bosom with the other. She had asked the local man in the front passenger seat to change places with her so the baby could sit safely inside. The man refused. Having waited two hours in the hot sun already, they decided to jump on the truck anyway in order to reach White Sands before nightfall. Three French tourists sat inside the truck in the back seat, clicking their cameras out the window as we sped along.

The truck dropped us off at the road leading to White Sands instead of taking us to directly to the village itself. I paid the driver for our fares and successfully refrained from directing obscene language in his direction. The truck sped off and left us in middle of the volcano's shadeless ash plain, the hot sun ray's reflecting upwards from the black ash. Luckily, I had packed lightly throwing only a few shirts in my pack, so I was able to carry the heavy suitcase and luggage for the grandmother and young girl. The baby cried several times as we walked the remaining five kilometers, pausing under the occasional banyan tree so she could breast feed.

The grateful grandmother led me to where I would be staying after we dropped off her granddaughter. The pastor of the local Presbyterian Church is from Aneityum, his son John is my good friend and neighbor. Pastor Fred and his wife welcomed me to their modest home, whose wooden floors had been demolished decades ago by Hurricane Ursa and rebuilt with the same timber. I slept there for four nights.

The White Sands area is so close to the volcano that the ground shakes day night as Mt Yassur sends mounds of spewing lava rocketing up to 100 meters into the air. The locals are used to it. I certainly was not. The volcano is not currently very active but it was earlier in the year when tourists were forbidden from climbing to the summit and White Sands was covered by falling ash. I had the pleasure of shoveling out grimy ash and muck that had accumulated in the pastor's uncovered rain tank over the past six month with a group of church elders. When the rain tank was cleaned, we filled it with water for the pastor to use for bucket showers.

A group of us hiked to the summit of Mount Yassur one night and drank kava on top, watching the fiery embers shoot into the night sky. It was my second visit, but the first time I had traversed on top by foot.

Being so close to the volcano, the locals have a very hard time growing food. The soil is terrible. A few months ago, a new water supply project opened up, piping water to White Sands from miles away. Before that, taking a bath consisted of walking a mile down to the ocean to swim in hot springs that are only accessible at low tide.

Anyway, White Sands is far different from Aneityum and it was interesting to see the local work ethic and perseverance the people show in such hard circumstances. Pastor Fred wants to receive a Peace Corps Volunteer for the White Sands community, so I am in the process of trying to help him apply for one.

Will be staying in Middle Bush with a fellow volunteer until Sunday when the Toka ceremony begins in South Tanna...