Monday, November 17, 2003
A tour of paradise, in South Pacific
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
I am ten years old, and I am in a National Geographic expedition to New Hebrides, watching the Melanesians! This déjà vu was prompted by viewing a harvest processional, called the Rom Dance, on Ambrym, an island renowned for its magic, in the South Pacific, part of what is now the Ripublik blong Vanuatu. This ritual, performed by 14 men in full-length banana leaf costumes, with spire-top bird-head masks, surrounding a group of naked men dressed in nothing but pandan-leaf penis sheaths, is the precinct of village elders, who acquire the rights, and the accompanying social standing,, by donating a pig (valued at $200!) once a year. In turn, they are allowed to make wood carved tom-toms, the sacred two-tone drum communication devices, and their miniature replicas favored by tourists, and the privilege of issuing certain taboos. The dance costumes are destroyed at the end of the real ritual. A neat social structure for promotion of industry, and taxation, Washington to copy.
We, the 112-member expedition tourists from the M/S Clipper Odyssey, exploring a new route for Intrav/Clipper, partly under the flag of the National Museum of Natural History, were favored with a preview of the hour-long ceremony, after a ritual exchange of gifts, and an obligatory pig-slaughter (only the Captain participated). The villagers are feared because of their powers of incantation and performing levitation (unconfirmed) and superior replication of magic figures (confirmed). The latter were sold after the ritual, by skilled speakers at festive tables, with groups of carvers observing, silently. Our arrival prompted visits by a hundred or so neighboring villagers in colorful dress, who reclined on the tree-lined black sandy beach, women and men separately, and watched our moves. The men and women have separate secret societies, and female menstrual emissions are, in some cultures, thought to have magic and deadly qualities. Magic and Christianity seem to coexist well, the cultural influence if missionaries is evident - there are no bare torsos in Melanesia, while the Micronesians still remain climate-appropriately undressed.
Upon our arrival in eight-person Zodiacs (rubber boats) and a wet landing at the beach, we were cordially greeted with handshakes, and escorted to logs placed around the village green, which soon became the scene of the back-and-forth Rom dance/parade figure movements, musically accompanied by two naked drummers on tam-tams. Photography was tolerated. The cordiality was evident when neighboring villagers left, shaking hands individually with locals (guards?), along the beachside access road, a far cry from the head-hunting ferocity described by Jack London (1876-1914) in his South Seas tales. The progeny of his Michael and Jerry, two dogs who sang, were roaming freely on the beach, along with fearless toddlers, who smilingly shook hands with strangers. The adolescents were more reticent, and an adult male, lying on the beach, ironically called out to the tourist: “this is how we spend our days!” We both laughed, uneasily. You do not have to read Bronislaw Malinowski of the Trobriands, or Margaret Mead of Samoa to catch the drift.
The Vanuatans, independent since 1980, with vestiges of a British-French overseeing Condominium installed in 1906 (ironically called Pandemonium), are at lest quadri-lingual, with Bislama, the pidgin language I remember from Jack London, prevailing. Native speakers of melodic “kustom” languages often speak two or three, their own and their mothers’ village tongues. Intermarriage between villages, even hostile ones, has always been favored, and population has been kept low. The na-Vanuatu, 200,000 inhabitants ob 83 islands, combined size of Connecticut, own land in common, live self-sufficiently on fish and swidden gardens (rotated in 10-15 generations, and seem to have learned, since settling there in the Stone Ages, to guard against overpopulation. Is this a practice in genetics, or simply lack of medical care?
Independence has been costly; the Vanuatu treasury, post-boom, lost some reputed mega-millions when persuaded by a London financier to invest in bonds returning 25% annually .Fortunately, islanders have not lost their money-less self-sufficiency. Visiting the Maskelynes, small low islands, our adventure- ready advance scouts (ours was very much an ad hoc day-by-day schedule) were granted beach and reef snorkel privileges for 2,000 vatu ($20) and a hat. Islanders rowed out to the ship in primitive dugouts with outriggers and lateen sails, held together with palm-frond ties, and a man, when asked, offered to sell his one-person canoe to our Amazon-size scout from New Zealand (she owns a dive shop) for 5,000 vatu. That was big bucks on Uliveo, where we did shoreline sight-seeing of the idyllically clean lagoon village (the weather became too dirty for snorkeling) in our eight-passenger Zodiac boats . We did see two men with adzes hewing at a tree-trunk, shaping a canoe (the dugout is so narrow that it holds two feet only when placed heel-to-toe), an effort of many hours of work. A replacement? Industry cannot be stopped. Our anthropologist, Bob Tonkinson, a Vanuatu veteran since the 1960s, hailed an old friend, a chief, who treated us to mangoes, best ever. The villagers’ source of cash income is Jimmy, a guide, who has a boat from the capital -Port Vila, of which more later - stop for fresh fish, on some mythical schedule, since there was no evidence of a cell phone or an electric generator, the few-hours- a- day link to civilization in more advanced Vanuatu and Fiji villages.
What else do I know about Vanuatu economy? Well, there’ s an award winning beer, Tusker, Air Vanuatu is the flag-bearing airline, and there are two newspapers and two news sites. The GDP is $1.3K per capita, and the trade balance is sadly one-sided. Main partners are Japanese, who buy sea-cucumbers. The Aussies, NZ, US and EU contribute. Ah, the cost of paradise.
I am ten years old, and I am in a National Geographic expedition to New Hebrides, watching the Melanesians! This déjà vu was prompted by viewing a harvest processional, called the Rom Dance, on Ambrym, an island renowned for its magic, in the South Pacific, part of what is now the Ripublik blong Vanuatu. This ritual, performed by 14 men in full-length banana leaf costumes, with spire-top bird-head masks, surrounding a group of naked men dressed in nothing but pandan-leaf penis sheaths, is the precinct of village elders, who acquire the rights, and the accompanying social standing,, by donating a pig (valued at $200!) once a year. In turn, they are allowed to make wood carved tom-toms, the sacred two-tone drum communication devices, and their miniature replicas favored by tourists, and the privilege of issuing certain taboos. The dance costumes are destroyed at the end of the real ritual. A neat social structure for promotion of industry, and taxation, Washington to copy.
We, the 112-member expedition tourists from the M/S Clipper Odyssey, exploring a new route for Intrav/Clipper, partly under the flag of the National Museum of Natural History, were favored with a preview of the hour-long ceremony, after a ritual exchange of gifts, and an obligatory pig-slaughter (only the Captain participated). The villagers are feared because of their powers of incantation and performing levitation (unconfirmed) and superior replication of magic figures (confirmed). The latter were sold after the ritual, by skilled speakers at festive tables, with groups of carvers observing, silently. Our arrival prompted visits by a hundred or so neighboring villagers in colorful dress, who reclined on the tree-lined black sandy beach, women and men separately, and watched our moves. The men and women have separate secret societies, and female menstrual emissions are, in some cultures, thought to have magic and deadly qualities. Magic and Christianity seem to coexist well, the cultural influence if missionaries is evident - there are no bare torsos in Melanesia, while the Micronesians still remain climate-appropriately undressed.
Upon our arrival in eight-person Zodiacs (rubber boats) and a wet landing at the beach, we were cordially greeted with handshakes, and escorted to logs placed around the village green, which soon became the scene of the back-and-forth Rom dance/parade figure movements, musically accompanied by two naked drummers on tam-tams. Photography was tolerated. The cordiality was evident when neighboring villagers left, shaking hands individually with locals (guards?), along the beachside access road, a far cry from the head-hunting ferocity described by Jack London (1876-1914) in his South Seas tales. The progeny of his Michael and Jerry, two dogs who sang, were roaming freely on the beach, along with fearless toddlers, who smilingly shook hands with strangers. The adolescents were more reticent, and an adult male, lying on the beach, ironically called out to the tourist: “this is how we spend our days!” We both laughed, uneasily. You do not have to read Bronislaw Malinowski of the Trobriands, or Margaret Mead of Samoa to catch the drift.
The Vanuatans, independent since 1980, with vestiges of a British-French overseeing Condominium installed in 1906 (ironically called Pandemonium), are at lest quadri-lingual, with Bislama, the pidgin language I remember from Jack London, prevailing. Native speakers of melodic “kustom” languages often speak two or three, their own and their mothers’ village tongues. Intermarriage between villages, even hostile ones, has always been favored, and population has been kept low. The na-Vanuatu, 200,000 inhabitants ob 83 islands, combined size of Connecticut, own land in common, live self-sufficiently on fish and swidden gardens (rotated in 10-15 generations, and seem to have learned, since settling there in the Stone Ages, to guard against overpopulation. Is this a practice in genetics, or simply lack of medical care?
Independence has been costly; the Vanuatu treasury, post-boom, lost some reputed mega-millions when persuaded by a London financier to invest in bonds returning 25% annually .Fortunately, islanders have not lost their money-less self-sufficiency. Visiting the Maskelynes, small low islands, our adventure- ready advance scouts (ours was very much an ad hoc day-by-day schedule) were granted beach and reef snorkel privileges for 2,000 vatu ($20) and a hat. Islanders rowed out to the ship in primitive dugouts with outriggers and lateen sails, held together with palm-frond ties, and a man, when asked, offered to sell his one-person canoe to our Amazon-size scout from New Zealand (she owns a dive shop) for 5,000 vatu. That was big bucks on Uliveo, where we did shoreline sight-seeing of the idyllically clean lagoon village (the weather became too dirty for snorkeling) in our eight-passenger Zodiac boats . We did see two men with adzes hewing at a tree-trunk, shaping a canoe (the dugout is so narrow that it holds two feet only when placed heel-to-toe), an effort of many hours of work. A replacement? Industry cannot be stopped. Our anthropologist, Bob Tonkinson, a Vanuatu veteran since the 1960s, hailed an old friend, a chief, who treated us to mangoes, best ever. The villagers’ source of cash income is Jimmy, a guide, who has a boat from the capital -Port Vila, of which more later - stop for fresh fish, on some mythical schedule, since there was no evidence of a cell phone or an electric generator, the few-hours- a- day link to civilization in more advanced Vanuatu and Fiji villages.
What else do I know about Vanuatu economy? Well, there’ s an award winning beer, Tusker, Air Vanuatu is the flag-bearing airline, and there are two newspapers and two news sites. The GDP is $1.3K per capita, and the trade balance is sadly one-sided. Main partners are Japanese, who buy sea-cucumbers. The Aussies, NZ, US and EU contribute. Ah, the cost of paradise.
Labels: Ambrym, Ripublik blong Vanuaty
# posted by Wally Dobelis @ 5:42 PM 
