Family Moments on Tanna

Here they are. 2 of the worlds greatest mothers, and they are both mine. They are black and white; they love laplap and tofu; they are fatfat and bunbun; they hike the paths of their gardens and their Mt. Tabors; they are from Melanesia and America, and in this moment they are sitting down on the same little mat drinking the water from green coconuts.

Because I was lucky enough to have my Mama Dodd and her dear friend Patty come to visit this small island in the middle of the vast blue sea, for 2 weeks in January. A last-minute, seize-the-day sort of decision brought the 2 of them all the way to Tanna. And when they got here they wanted a genuine experience of Tanna, not the Tourist side of Tanna, but the real deal. So my village welcomed them with open arms and plates of goopy laplap and freshly made leis. Patty became my “Auntie Patty,” as it is so much easier to explain close friends as mere family members, since here in Vanuatu all your best (and your worst) friends are your family after all. I have a feeling Patty will remain my auntie, in the same way that my Mama Wasikam will always be my mama (and I will probably always be her only white daughter). It was a fabulous 2 weeks of village life and what that means for living day to day, for living in the moment. Waking up in the morning and seeing what happens, who comes over, seizing the chance to go to the beach or walk up the hill, eating whatever sort of fresh fruit or vegetable ends up in our hands. They even got to help a little with a grant-writing workshop put on by unicef and some of us peace corps volunteers here. And of course the best moments of those two weeks were what the best moments always are here, those spontaneous moments and experiences that just happen. The moments you have when you really let yourself wait and see what happens. When you are ready to seize the day and celebrate the day. Like when we decided in the moment to go for Kava after the workshop. I happen to hate the taste and the effects that kava has on my stomach, so I just took the photos to capture all the kava moments, as the ladies chugged and only-slightly-gagged and then sat back and enjoyed the most important drink in Vanuatu. A drink that women on Tanna do not drink, as goes the custom, which works out perfectly for me. But notice that here in this photo are 4 women drinking Kava on Tanna. One is another Peace Corps. And one is a Woman Tanna... And when we went up the hill to the fundraiser in the village of another peace corps volunteer, and Auntie Patty got her hair braided after some girls starting petting her long straight hair with clear admiration. And then after, when that same group of girls insisted on walking us almost all the way back to Loukatai, climbing trees and picking us local greens off the tops.

And of course going to the volcano, and sharing a first-Mt-Yassur-experience with both my Mama Dodd and my Mama Wasikam. Watching the volcano fire-up over and over and over, a surprise every time. It's high activity right now is apparently related to the approaching yam harvest... Watching Mama Wasikam take one look at the lava and then sit herself back as far away as she could. And watching my Mama Dodd insist on sitting with her. Watching Daddy Jimmy's enormous smile and then witnessing his solemn respect for the volcano. All of us there, enjoying every minute of it.

And a day we weren't sure what to do so sat outside and thought about roasting some cooking bananas that sat high up in a tree right in front of my house. Only just a little too high up... and then my cousin-sister Annie walks by and says she'll cut them down. And then offers to cook us “gris banana.” And there goes the whole morning.

And some of my personal favorites were the countless moments that started off with the three of us walking somewhere, usually in the sun. Even if it was just the 25-minute walk into town along the main road. All walks that my mother and Patty either agreed or insisted upon. But then as we were walking, someone who saw this happening, would yell at me, telling me not to force my mama and auntie to do such a treacherous thing as walk up a hill or walk under the sun, or heaven forbid, go for a run in the morning. I was not taking good care of them apparently. It was always me forcing them to do these things. My favorite of these countless experiences was when we were walking up the sandy face of Mt Yassur, all of us. But then there was a point at which my mama and auntie needed to come down and sit back in the truck. In particular, I needed to tell my mother to go down. So there we were, the driver of the truck yelling up at me repeatedly to have my mom come down, and each time my mother telling me she will do nothing of the sort, as she insists upon proceeding up and across the volcano. But naturally the conversation is happening between the driver at the bottom and me up on the volcano, on and on until we all eventually come down anyway, a good 20 minutes later. I had to explain to people on several occasions, that I come from a strong-headed family, which is the real reason for what appeared to be me forcing horrendous experiences on my mother and auntie, two women, who I am proud to say, are extremely strong-headed. They are as strong-headed as I am, I insisted to people here. It was a fun conversation to have again and again. And the truth is, I love what those moments in particular say about how this culture counts on younger members of a family to look out for the elders. I love how much you can learn about a culture, about a person, about yourself, in a mere moment. I love that here people live in the moment without even realizing it. I love that that is even possible. I love that my mother and Aunt Pattie came here and for two weeks got to live in the moment as much as they possibly could, with no real agenda other than living this island-village life for their all-too-short, spur of the moment vacation. I was pretty lucky to have them here. And we were all pretty lucky to eat the last of the Tanna Mangoes, as the season of mangoes is now finished. And I was lucky too to have the chocolates and the real cotton sheets and the tie-dyes and the children's books that they brought with them :) And even now, nearly two weeks after they have left, I have people every day in this village asking about them. Are they home now? Did they like Tanna? Are they coming back? Always sorry that they had to leave. Some real love went out to them here. And if you, who have never seen this wonderful place and culture, ever want one hell of an experience, my little green house on Tanna always has an extra bed. I do mean that too. My family and community here on Tanna are more welcoming and extraordinary than I can tell in these few words and photos. So may you Celebrate this Day, and this moment too!

And because I can never get over how these kids here live in the moment, check out 8-year-old Raio, climbing the navel tree behind my house, getting down the nuts for she and I to sit down and crack open together with a big bush knife (in her hands, of course) and then pick out with a small knife (my job, being the adult...)

And lastly, I have finally, finally started the teaching part of my work here. The school year officially started last Monday, February 15th. I hope to post soon on that new and exciting part of my life here on Tanna. I am thrilled to be working with these students, and blown away by the amount of work we have to do to improve their reading skills. They have so much potential and they are so so far behind in terms of the standards I am used to. But they are so eager to learn and so eager for books to read and I am so eager to teach them.