A Different Kind of Childhood

It is probably not startling to see a child like this dangling so happily from a tree:

But how about little 2-year-old Sandra, playing by herself in the Pacific ocean? (Granny was in the house at the time.)

Or how about 2-year-old Sara, helping to build up the fire? She's not by herself here, 7-year-old Keturah is looking on:

And then there's 2-year-old Mike...toting around a knife: He hasn't quite learned how to use it, but by the time he's three or four he'll definitely be able to use it to crack open the strong casing around a natafoa (a kind of nut). And then when he's 7 or 8, he'll be carrying it with him to the garden to cut down all sorts of things. And he'll surely be using it to cut slices of cucumber and watermelon for himself. And then when he's 9 or 10, if not sooner, he'll be husking green coconuts with a bush knife when he's thirsty. And he'll be frying the fish he caught over the fire that he's made by himself. And if he were a girl, he'd be making even more fires and doing even more cooking. The girls also spend a lot more time in the gardens and doing the wash. The boys spend lots of their free time diving for fish in the ocean and carrying around slingshots and baskets of stones, trying to shoot down birds, to do god knows what with. I've seen the half-dead birds used as toys and food alike, in fact usually they're played with before they're boiled and roasted. And because mangoes are now bulging out of the trees, it is a pastime of all the children all over this island to throw sticks and stones at the mangoes, with remarkably good aim, and eat the fruits of their efforts. And when it's not throwing stones and sticks, it's sticking the fruits with long bamboo poles that allow for more precision, to get the best looking mango at the very top of the tree. And when it's not mangoes, it's natafoa (the nut) or nangai (another nut) or nakafika fruit or guava or lemons.

I think my favorite thing about the children here is that they are literally never bored. Not only have I never heard a child use those words, but those words don't even exist in either the pigeon language Bislama, or in the local language. The children here act like they have had years of practice in entertaining themselves and as a result, are highly proficient at it. When it's really just a product of how they have been raised, in a culture where everyone takes everything as it comes, one day at a time. And of course, the kids whine and cry and scream and hit too (they are normal kids after all), but what gets me is their incredible life skills. Like how to entertain yourself, be happy, and problem-solve. Their problem-solving skills just blow me away. Yesterday I watched 5-year-old Antonio as he took the bottle he was handed to fetch water in. He walked over to the water pump and proceeded to try and fill the dish. Only being just 5 years old, it was a little hard to get the pumping action going. He must have noticed this too, which is why he put a piece of wood down to stand on, and then another, gaining some height on the pump. And then he must have noticed that it wasn't all that efficient to have this big spout of water, not half of which fell into the small opening of his bottle a foot below, which must be why he enlisted the help of a nearby kid, to hold the bottle up against the pump. And sure enough, he got the bottle all filled up and back to his mother. I couldn't help but find this entertaining. Sounds simple; the kid was just getting water after all, and that's a pretty basic thing to be able to do. But the fact that I was sitting there glued to the sight of it, because I am simply not used to it yet, says something about what I am used to seeing. And I'm clearly not used to watching a 5-year-old demonstrate his independence with a water pump. Or a 10-year-old girl tend a pot of food over a fire. Or a 5-year-old walking himself to the store down the street to get a tin of fish for his family. Or the fact that more often than not, when the child of a mother is not at home and I inquire to the mom about the whereabouts of her child, she generally doesn't know where he is. Because after all, he's in the village somewhere. Everyone in the village is family in one way or another, and so he's with just with his family. He's safe. And he'll come home at least when he gets hungry, if not for some other reason. And one more thing that I love. The kids with disbilities? They're as well taken care of as the rest of the kids, if not more so. I met 3-year-old Jeff, who has clubbed-feet and cannot walk, and his family points this out right away, to let me know simply that this is just a part of who Jeff is. It's an important part because it means he can't walk, but it's no more important than anything else about him. And his whole extended family takes care of him. That is the way it is with all children in the village. Everyone looks out for them, and the kids also do a tremendous job of looking out for themselves, as I've already mentioned... And have I also mentioned that I have been offered a child if I should want one? Because here it is common for families to adopt the children of other members of their families. And every Man Tanna has a lot of family members. Often a woman will ask for the child of a sister or cousin, especially if the woman has all girls and wants a boy to add to her family, or if she wants a girl to add to her family of all boys. So if I want a baby, I just ask and I shall receive. But rest assured, I have no intention of following through with this offer, as much as I'm sure the community would be ecstatic should I ever change my mind. And another offer by one of my tawis (wife of my cousin-brother): that she and I do a baby exchange. In other words, we both have babies and trade them to each other...had to turn her down on that one :). But she did have a great idea when I told her all about the foster care system in America and how there are all these kids without any kind of family to look out for them. She told me the solution was easy: send them all to Vanuatu! Now that was an offer I wish I could do something with! But in the meantime, I'll be sticking with the offers of pineapples and bananas and cucumbers and chickens and baby goats and baskets and mats. I'm not keen on accepting the offer of a human baby. As wonderful as these children are here. I think I'd rather just be their teacher. That's the challenge I'm up for. And figuring out how to make English meaningful in a community that at present places no obvious value on literacy. That would explain why such a conservative community would think nothing of kids wearing shirts like this:

Because the words don't seem to matter at all. But if they knew what those words meant, I suspect they would be horrified. Or they would laugh. Either way, a scream or a laugh would show that those words meant something to the people here. That is my challenge. Make words come alive. Make words mean something. Make them mean a fraction of what it means to know how to use a knife or make a fire or stick a mango...Because no matter what is important to a culture or a person, the ability of words to open up opportunities for individuals seems pretty important too. So I get to help make words important here, on this island of mangoes and water pumps and lots of very happy children.