Ocean Stars and Sunrise Turtles

Recently I had the pleasure to visit the southern most island in the Vanuatu archipelago, Anietjum Island. Go any further south and you are in New Caledonia.... and everyone knows the kava is better in Vanuatu. I got the chance to return to the island in order to train a group of twenty strong local men and women how to survey their reef resources using Reef Check. I also got to take along a fellow PCV, Katie Thomson, and a fisheries officer from the south, Wilson Yuri, in order to train them to facilitate future trainings.



Anietjum was the first island in all of Vanuatu in which there was a permanent European establishment, commencing in 1844 with the arrival of James Paddon a merchant interested mainly in sandalwood but also replenishing whaling ships. Mr. Paddon set up a trading station on Inyeug Island (now known as Mystery Island) in 1852, villagers happily allowing Paddon access to the small uninhabited island which they believed to be haunted with spirits. Over 40 years the merchants logged the island for sandalwood and eventually moved on to an island in the north, Erromongo one of the richest sources of sandalwood in the south Pacific. Whalers continued visiting, using large pots to melt down whale blubber and restocking their ships for future voyages. Mystery Island (or Inyeug Island) is now home to a tourism project, the small white sand beached island flooded with tourist from large cruise liners from Australia at periodic episodes. Both activities have left the villagers of Anietjum plundered in different ways... although that is not the subject of this blog.

If there is one thing to be learned from European history in the Pacific is that after the merchants come the missionaries are sure to follow and indeed the first church in present day Vanuatu was erected in Anietjum in May of 1848 when a Scottish Presbyterian minister, John Geddie, built a large stone church that would seat hundreds of people in Anelghowhat village. Minister Geddie, in his fundamentalist Presbyterian mindset, outlawed everything from kava and dancing to participation in customary ceremonies. And although the minister converted nearly 3,000 of the original 12,000 inhabitants of the island, the seats of the large church would remain less than full due to the tragic epidemics that would leave the island's population as low as 250 by 1905. The first wave of epidemics struck prior to 1860 and nearly 3,500 lives were lost to influenza, diphtheria and whooping cough. The following year claimed half the remaining population due to dysentery and measles, the dead so numerous that bodies had no grave but the turquoise blue waters. The church itself was destroyed, albeit for some masonry relics, by a tsunami in 1875 and as I looked at this shell of a relic among the contemporary village it seemed a metaphor for a larger emptiness on the island, a tragic reduction in population and culture. Currently the population in Anietjum remains under 1000. The Reef Check workshop was held on in the largest village on the island, Anelgowhat which has nearly 600 villagers in several small stations facing Mystery Island. Today you can see results of strong family lines and a bottle necked genetic population, traits such as blond hair are much more common on this small island and I was amazed to see how many blond children ran about the village chasing each other in laughter.

Anietjum, in particular Anelgowhat village, was a ideal village to host a Reef Check workshop due to their high dependence on marine resources, impacts of large scale tourism (such as selling hundreds of lobsters and shells when the boats come in) and the rather large amount of fisheries related projects such as mariculture and restocking efforts by various agencies in Vanuatu. The island itself is surrounded by at least two large reef systems and is rich in marine resources while the communities are struggling to implement customary closures and implement management plans. There is a strong turtle monitoring program in Anietjum with a local man named Alan, capturing, measuring and tagging nearly 70 turtles a year and providing this data to a regional data base. The workshop in Anietjum focused on understanding the ecological effects of the changing economic and environmental conditions as well as re-enforcing local management techniques. Reef Check in many aspects can strengthen local tenure systems, through a system of cooperative management, which utilizing both traditional methods (taboos) and scientific methods of monitoring (Reef Check).


Two nights Katie and I were able to corral some participants away from the kava to go night diving for turtles. The first night was surreal and psychologically a bit challenging for me. The night waters were full of bio luminescent organisms, plankton that glow, and our boat chopped through what looked likes starts against a deep black night sea. As we are traveling in our 16 foot aluminum boat we are talking about the adventures of the past and fishing tales when our star turtle tagger relates a recent story of a night-time pursuit of a turtle which abruptly ended when he realized that a tiger shark, bigger than his boat, was also doing a bit of night time turtle hunting in the area. He leaves the last sentence hanging in the air as I am already perched, fins and mask on, ready to take that backwards flop into the water. I have no underwater flashlight and was resigned to following Alan in the water much like a cygnet follows the mother swan, probably a bit less graceful however. Alan would occasionally just turn the light off, leaving me in absolutely dark water save the ocean stars, those beautiful glowing plankton, which seemed so other-worldly. It only took about 5 minutes to catch the turtle which was sleeping in a shelf on the reef.

When the turtles are captured there is a form to be filled out which includes the species, length of the shell, width of the shell, and width of the head. Two metal tags are attached, each with different numbers, to the fleshy part of the front flippers, much like turtle ear rings. These tags are important and if recaptured will allow us to have some insight into the growth rates and migratory movements of the turtles. The shell of this green turtle was brilliant and one of the men said to us that the local language name for the green turtle in Anietjum translates to the "sunrise turtle" due to the sunburst pattern on the shell. Katie snapped a photograph.

The second time we went night diving, Alan our turtle guru was gone to a conference, ironically, about turtles, so we went with some "yangfala" (young men). They were a bit more enthusiastic although not as skilled and almost everyone jumped in this time (although we still shared flashlights with our Ni-Vanuatu guides). We took a bit longer but caught two turtles, one of which was already tagged. We took our cargo to shore on Mystery Island's white sand beaches and went through the motions of measuring, documenting and tagging before we released them to the sea. It was an amazing experience for me. This ancient lineage of animals which has in holds such a powerful imagery in my mind now, as both an icon of international conservation and the amazing differences on how various cultures dictate what is wild and free and what is fair game and consumable.


Prior to our visit, the local turtle monitoring group (Vanua Tai Group) coordinator gave me a map to show to the people of Anietjum and Tanna. The regional organization SHREP had put a GPS location tag on a large male green turtle in Bora Bora less than a year ago and the turtle had traveled through the Cook Islands, Niue, Tonga, Fiji and was headed for New Caledonia when it made a U-turn straight for Anietjum Island. It was in the area during the workshop and it was an interesting dialogue to have with the islanders, whom often consume the protected animals. Who did that turtle belong to? Debates on the harvesting of highly migratory species continues to be an imposing topic among the Pacific Island countries, which requires agreements, international consultation groups, cross cultural dialogue and treaties. At the grass roots level, no treaty will save a wondering turtle that crosses the path of a rural islander. The most important thing at this level is education, awareness and wise-use. Programs such as the Vanua Tai Turtle Monitoring Program and Reef Check provide resource users with information about life cycles and environmental consequences to human actions, allowing people to make informed decisions. The Ni-Vanuatu of Anietjum, like many islanders in the south Pacific, are the stewards and users of the resources of the land and sea and ultimately hold the reins of sustainability and subsistence, consumption and conservation in their hands.

-Jessica

Customary Marine Tenure in Vanuatu

Throughout Vanuatu the terrestrial and marine resources are managed through a Customary Tenure system. This has wide ranging implications when working in resource management and conservation for both the Ni-Vanuatu involved and the biodiversity here in Vanuatu. Throughout my service here, as a Peace Corps volunteer serving as a “Coastal Resources Management Advisor,” first in a rural village of Malekula and now as the National Coordinator for Reef Check Vanuatu, I have had to work within and have an understanding of this management system. So I guess this blog is meant to give a brief explanation of the Customary Marine Tenure system here in Vanuatu. So what is Customary Marine Tenure (CMT) anyway?
In Vanuatu, through customary chiefs, families or tribes (nasaras), Ni-Vanuatu retain exclusive rights to harvest marine resources in near shore waters.
The constitution of Vanuatu upholds these rights in Chapter 12 Article 73 which states: “All land in the Republic belongs to the indigenous custom owners and their descendants.” “Land” in Vanuatu is defined under the Land Reform Act as including “land extending to the seaside of any offshore reef” and CMT is a system where the management of the near shore reefs is the responsibility of the customary reef owners. This system varies greatly from the management system in the United States at which anything from the high tide mark is under the management of the government and harvesting, activities and regulations are products of statutory law. In Vanuatu, “customary” tenure refers to the present practices of management which are rooted in custom or historical practices but not necessarily identical to past practices... Think flexibility. This means that some of the practices are historically rooted, such as the placing of a “taboo leaf,” although the motivation and restrictions can change according to contemporary needs and knowledge. So the placement of a “taboo” on a reef area (traditional practice) could now restrict only the use of a modern technology, such as gill nets (which are not customarily used) and this is still considered “customary marine tenure.”
CMT varies from village to village within an island and between islands and has strong ties to different language groups, customs, rules and norms and different land tenure systems.
There is a great deal of renewed interest in CMT in Vanuatu today in many areas. I say renewed because many of the customary practices have not been exercised in many years due to the overall degrading of customary ceremonies, rights and rituals in Vanuatu. Contemporarily Ni-Vanuatu are interested in exercising their rights to manage their dwindling resources and this is largely due to marine resources in Vanuatu facing increased fishing and harvesting pressure due to:
* Increased population (and ecological footprint per capita)
*Introduction of more “efficient” fishing technology
*Dependence on cash economy and commercialization of marine resources
In addition to human impacts on near shore marine areas Vanuatu is also very susceptible to natural disturbances such as earthquakes and cyclones, which can have a great impact on coral reefs and availability of resources in Vanuatu.

There are many different kinds of CMT techniques being practices. SOME are for conservation reasons and others are not. The most commonly used technique is the traditional marine taboo. Customarily the taboo was used for wide ranging purposes.
Conservation Taboos
* Areas in which marine resources are heavily depended on for subsistence and contemporarily, for economic purposes conservation taboos may be used.
*Contemporary surge in this type of taboo today in Vanuatu.
Death Taboos:
* Some areas would have used taboos in the event of the death of a chief or any family member’s death.
* Time periods and extent would vary by area and culture
Circumcision taboos:
* A taboo may be put in place when an age-class of males goes through circumcisions ceremonies.
Taboos related to Yam Seasons
*Taboos may be imposed at the planting of, harvesting of or growing duration of yams.
* Also may be behavioral taboos or consumption taboos related to yams and marine resources (For example in Unua, Malekula if you consumed turtle you can’t eat, plant or touch a yam for five days because if you do your yams will grow like the flipper of the turtle)
Taboos related to Feasts or Festivals
* Customary taboos were often used to enhance the size and amount of fishing stocks in preparation for a large feast, marriage or festival.
*Most “conservation taboos” are related to the idea of increasing stocks for consumption

Initiating taboos generally are locally and culturally determined and may be either formally announced without any formality or proclaimed with a special, site specific, ceremony which usually will involve the killing of pig or large feast and placing of the “namele” or locally relevant taboo leaves. Taboos that incorporate customary practices are generally viewed as more powerful and respected by community members. Contemporarily many traditional ceremonies have now incorporated written agreements and management plans which is testament to the flexibility of the CMT system. The taboo is a flexible management tool that is the embodiment of the customary tenure system giving a chief or landowners the right to restrict harvest and activities in a reef or near shore area. Taboos may vary in several ways:
* Taboos may be seasonal or annual for species specific breeding needs.
* Taboos may be “full closure,” multi-species or species specific
* Taboos may vary in temporal length.
* Taboos may restrict certain fishing technologies.
In Vanuatu within the CMT system gender is an important component with men, women, boys and girls each having a role to play in CMT and their activities, targeted species and harvest techniques will vary from island to island and village to village. In general men often participate in off-shore fishing, deep sea fishing and diving for invertebrates. Boys often fish, dive within deeper reef areas, go spear fishing, and night diving with underwater spear guns. While women, girls and small children often fish in near shore areas, participate in reef gleaning, dig for bivalves and collect invertebrates such as octopus at low tide.

Because much of Vanuatu is involved within a subsistence economy, reef closures are significant short term sacrifices that strive to fill a long-term subsistence need in the village. During reef closures villages may need to mitigate the loss of marine protein by:
*Increasing dependence and utilization of land animals for protein
*Fish outside the taboo area (deep water fishing)
*Cut back on consumption
* Purchase canned meat or fish
* Buy fresh fish from nearby markets
* Negotiate for the rights to fish in neighboring fishing grounds.

There are many issues in the contemporary marine tenure system in Vanuatu that may affect the effectiveness and ability to exercise CMT. After the return of land in the 1980’s many coastal areas, especially in urban areas, fell under dispute and remain untenured. In addition the increased economic valuable of marine resources, disagreements about customary boundaries, population pressure and loss of respect for CMT have resulted in disputes over tenure and management in some areas. Vanuatu’s growing dependency on a cash economy also affects the tenure system and increases the likelihood of unsustainable marine harvesting. Much of the export economy related to marine resources and the tourist industry puts additional strain on near shore areas through curio-sales and infrastructure developments. And although legally the Land Lease Act stipulates that customary owners cannot lease their reef areas, access and tenure can only be done through a contract between the lessee and leaser. It is not uncommon that a Ni-Vanuatu finds himself frustrated because he failed to dictate the right to pass over leased ground to reach the reef area.
The flexibility of the CMT system is a strength allowing the adaptation of new management techniques to match the changing economical and ecological situation. In many aspects this is where I and other environmental extentionist have entered the mix here in Vanuatu. Ni-Vanuatu villagers are very hungry for advice when it comes to their coastal resources. However, villages do not want to be told how to manage their reefs or fisheries and it is their customary and legal right not to be micro-managed by outsiders. In order to work within the CMT system here in Vanuatu, you must respect it and value it within your project. Ni-Vanuatu customary managers do want to receive education relating to contemporary practices, technologies and management techniques... They want to know what management techniques are available, where, when and how long to apply these techniques. In the end, it is completely up to them to take control of their resources and most managers are seeking out information and new techniques to make well informed decisions. Many times this may involve looking back to past practices and knowledge and giving equal value and respect to those techniques as well as newer “scientific” explanations. I guess that is the extent of my spill on customary marine tenure and I would be confident in saying that during my service here in Vanuatu the local people taught me more about management and the need for conservation of both biological and cultural resources than I was able to teach them.

-Jessica

Translation of “Kastom storian blong Flaeing Fokis”

Custom story of the Flying Fox

Why doesn’t the flying fox eat during the day? One day all the animals of the air were fighting with all the animals of the ground. The flying fox didn’t join the animals of the air to fight; instead he just watched the unfolding fight. The fight continued and when finally finished the animals of the air where angry with the flying fox. They threw him out and told him, “You are no longer family now.” So now the flying fox is shamed, afraid and can only eat under the cover of night!

-Story told in Unua, southeast Malekula Island, Republic of Vanuatu

Be wanem samting ia "Bislama?"

What is "Bislama?"

Communicating in Vanuatu could be challenging for even the most resolute linguist. As I have mentioned earlier there are an estimated 130 local languages found on the 60 plus inhabited islands here in the South Pacific. This is among the highest language diversity per capita in the world. There are three official languages that are recognized by the national government and documents, policies and news may be reported in Bislama, English or French. Bislama, however, is the dominating language that binds the country together; the literate to the illiterate, rural to the urban and the northern most islands to the southern most islands. Being unable to communicate in Bislama will render you unable to effectively communicate with Ni-Vanuatu peoples, especially in a village setting in which about 80% of the country lives. But what is Bislama? Where did the language come from?
"Bislama" is the Ni-Vanuatu version of a group of Melanesian Pidgin Languages which also includes "Tok Pidgin" in Papau New Guinea and "Pidgin" in the Solomon Islands. These pidgin languages arose as Europeans discovered valuable natural resources in these island countries starting in about the mid-1880's, especially sought after was sandalwood and that good old colonial gold..."labor." The Ni-Vanuatu peoples were moved around from island to island and had to work together with a group of islanders that didn't speak a word of their local tongue and a group of pale faced Europeans that certainly seemed to be running the show. This linguistic negotiation rendered "Bislama" which is a pidgin of English which a lot of Melanesian context and grammar. "The name of the language derives from the nineteenth-century word Beach-la-Mar, which itself derives from the French biche de mer 'sea cucumber'. (Crowly, Terry)." Beche-la-mer or Sea Cucumbers were also collected and dried by the French during this initial flurry of economic exploitation. (Photograph is Ben teaching a slope stability session in Malekula, the board reads " Tri= Helti Riva= Helti Rif" or Trees = Healthy Rivers= Healthy Reefs)
I remember thinking that Bislama would be an extremely easy language to pick up and learn, like some children playing around with Pig Latin... well that isn't really the case. The accent can be bewildering, the tenses are utterly confusing and many words have several meanings. Fortunately the whole language is written "FONETIKELI" (or phonetically - Ben loves to point out how the word phonetically is not phonectical- ironic huh?) This means that there is no letter "C, Q, X or Z." Most common English verbs will be understood by attaching a "um, im or em." However there is no verb "to be." The word "stap" means "I am," "to stay, to live (in one place)" or a prefix that is attached to a verb to express the present tense. See where some confusion can come in. So technically you could have a sentence like this: " Mi stap stap." ( I am staying here.)
Even more interesting to learn is all of the Bislama names for trees, plants, birds, fish and all sorts of other environmental wonders. These words don't take the English cognate in most cases. Many of the Bislama language names for trees, birds and common invetebrates are taken from a local language in Ambae Island and many of them have the prefix "na." So for example some animals and plants are: namarae (eels), namaloa (incubator bird), natalae (giant clams), nawita (octopus), nabanga (banyan tree) or nambilak (Kingfisher bird). (Photograph: Jessica teaching a group of 16 men Reef Check on Gaua island, everything is in Bislama written materials, lectures and powerpoints).

After about 3 months of living here you can understand most everything being said (although slang is rampant here and everything can be metaphorical) and you are able to speak at a fluency that allows you to eat, sleep and go to the restroom without little embarrassment. After about 6 months in a rural area you are catching on to some slang and are able to without a doubt know when someone is speaking about you to someone else. You also may need to learn local language for basic expressions like "good morning." Unfortunately for all of you that have kept your language free of swears and vulgarities many of our "four letter words" are perfectly acceptable to use in Bislams. (ie.- "as" means your butt, "sitsit" or "sit" pronounced like the English cognate means "to defecate, or the noun poop") Swearing does certainly exist in Bislama, many of which may be direct cognates or creative and descriptive phrases that I dare not write on this blog.
There are a lot of fun slang terms or phrases that literally translated would be confusing, such as "Mi stap tekem truk blong Adam." This literally translated into " I am taking Adam's truck." but means " am going to walk (Adam and Eve and his truck....two legs.. well you get it right)." Another one involving trucks (and subsequently the fact that most water sources here are ice cold) is "truk blong wota i pas finis." This literally translates to "the water truck has already passed," but means "it is too stinking late or cold and I am not going to bath tonight." Well you guys get the idea.

So for some of you that are brave and like a challenge, this is a small story written in Bislama that you can try and translate. I will give the English translation in a future blog to come. This is a custom story from Malekula Island, although I have heard variations of this story from other islands as well:

Kastom Storian blong Flaeing Fokis

From wanem flaeing fokis i no kaekae long dei? Wan dei olgeta animol long ae oli stap rao wetem ol animol long graon. Flaeing fokis i no join wetem olgeta animol long ae blong faet, hemi stap lukluk nomo. Rao ia i stap gogo, i finis mo afta ol animol blong ae oli kros wetem flaeing fokis mo oli sakem aot hem mo talem "yu no famili wetem mifala naoia!" Naoia flaeing fokis hemi shem mo fret mo hemi mas kaekae long kava blong naet nomo!

Look for the translation to this story in another post to come! The picture of the man holding "a bat" is actually a "flying fox" (hint hint) which is what the story above is about. Incidently the flying fox in Timothy's hand was our supper one night... taste great with coconut milk!

-Jessica

The Ni-Vanua -WHO?

Who are the Ni-Vanuatu?

Thought it might be interesting to give a small bit of history on this group of people that share our little blue planet called the NI-VANUATU. Ni-Vanuatu are Melanesian peoples who arrived in Vanuatu approximately 3,000 -3,500 years ago as people from the Lapita culture (a culture characterized by particular textile and pottery patterns and manufacturing processes) moved from southeast Asia. "The term Lapita refers to an ancient Pacific culture that archaeologists believe to be the common ancestor of the contemporary cultures of Polynesia, Micronesia, and some areas of Melanesia. The culture takes its name from the site of Lapita in New Caledonia, one of the first places in which its distinctive pottery was discovered. While archaeologists debate the precise region where Lapita culture itself developed, the ancestors of the Lapita people came originally from Southeast Asia. Beginning around 1500 B.C., Lapita peoples began to spread eastward through the islands of Melanesia and into the remote archipelagos of the central and eastern Pacific, reaching Tonga and Samoa by roughly 1000 B.C. The Lapita were a seafaring people who settled primarily on the coast rather than inland and their skilled navigators traversed the ocean with ease. (Wagelie, Jennifer)"
The island of Vanuatu, which is a volcanic archipelago of nearly 80 islands, has a rich cultural and linguistic heritage.


On the island of Malekula alone, where Ben and I were stationed for two years, there are about 30 distinct languages still spoken. Many languages, cultural beliefs, customs and traditional systems of land tenure have been lost... many still dominate peoples lives. Vanuatu began its cultural interactions with Europeans as early as 1606 when a Portuguese ship "discovered" the islands and it was subsequently "rediscovered" by French navigator Louis-Antoine de Bougainville in 1768. Explored once again by an English mariner the famed Captain James Cook in 1774 and given the name "New Hebrides." An onslaught of missionaries, sandalwood merchants, and British and French cotton farmers arrived in the mid-19th century and the condominium government, a joint venture by the French and the British, was established in 1906. Can you imagine being under both French and British rule? This meant two school systems, two governmental bodies, two administrations and twice the bureaucracy which is a legacy that has left Vanuatu with three national languages: English, French and Bislama (from the "Black birding"- a history of stealing natives to work on Australian cotton and sugar plantations in Queensland). Finally in July of 1980 the "New Hebrides" achieved Independence and changed their name to "Vanuatu" (Hints the name Ni-Vanuatu for a native of Vanuatu).
Who are the Ni-Vanuatu now? Well I have been here for three years and stereotyping the Ni-Vanuatu would be like trying to describe what is an "American." The islands are diverse culturally, linguistically and in many cases historically. But if forced to talk about the peoples with whom I have lived for the last 3 years I would be comfortable to say this:

Ni-Vanuatu are largely ritualistically Christian yet also maintain strong beliefs in custom, black magic and traditional healing.

Ni-Vanuatu are inseparable from their land, family and natural resources.

Ni-Vanuatu are can be incredibly kind and yet, at times, as temperamental as the the ocean that surrounds them.

Ni-Vanuatu love to smile and laugh. They are boisterous and jovial.

Ni-Vanuatu are islanders, they live by "island time" and no amount of coxing will change their internal clocks. They value time with their family and friends, work will always come second to their family obligations.

Ni-Vanuatu see themselves first as members of their tribe or nasara, second as people from their home island, third their province (group of geographically link islands) and lastly their nation.

Ni-Vanuatu value community and togetherness more than the individual.


Contemporary the Ni-Vanuatu operate under a free-market economy. The main industry in Vanuatu is copra (dried coconut meat), cattle raising, agriculture, forestry and fishing. Tourism is definitely beginning to make a surge on the economic stage, which in my opinion is very unstable in regards to cultural ramifications and economic stability. Vanuatu is a country that is young and still defining what it means to be the Nation of Vanuatu. Trying to find a balance between customary culture and contemporary-global demands.

-Jessica

Photograph and quotation on Lapita peoples: Wagelie, Jennifer (October 2003) -see link for The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Lapita Pottery

The Coolidge: US and Vanuatu's Histories Crash

I must say that I really believed that I was going to be an “environmental diver” all the way and had very little interest in diving man-made “disasters” such as ship wrecks. However, diving the USS President Coolidge made a real impression on me and excited me with its massive-imposing figure as well as its history. SCUBA diving by its very nature may be un-nerving; whether staring out into the deep endless blue (and remembering your rather low-rung on the food chain) or night diving when you imagine about everything is only a couple meters away looking at you with hungry eyes (and you can’t see a thing). I have had the pleasure now of diving for work related tasks, although I would hardly call it work, and I explore things at a slow and meticulous pace looking for the ocean’s many minute wonders. Diving a ship wreck is a very different experience… overwhelming at times to see such a massive piece of history, steel and sweat quietly (and eerily) sleeping underwater. You do not get a visual, minus the large tethered anchor rope from shore, until you reach 70 feet in depth and then there is a massive bow of this 654 foot luxury liner turned war ship during WWII.
The ship, which was requisitioned in 1941, was carrying 5,000 troops destined to reinforce and relieve Marines in Guadalcanal when on October 26, 1942 it stuck two mines explosives in the Segond Channel, Santo Island. These explosives had been laid by the US Navy to discourage enemy attack and they were very effective, sinking the massive steamer in only 85 minutes. Only two people were killed in the accident but valuable equipment, weapons and troops were either stranded or sleeping 70-240 feet under water (where the Coolidge lies today).
The water at 70 feet is already murky with little visibility. The ship is amazing; its alive with the numerous creatures, corals, sponges, sea fans inhabiting its slowly decaying structure and yet dead, solemn and imposingly dreary like its war-torn history. Large fish lurk at this depth avoiding the village spear fisherman but less hidden from hand held long lines. Still the groupers and angelfish reach sizes below 70 meters that would be inconceivable closer to the hungry Ni-Vanuatu at shore. Because the ship sleeps on her side you must enter through access panels that were cut from the ship in the 1960’s when they recovered the oil and gas in her belly. Often the bottom is not visible even with use of a flashlight from the top panels. It is dark and on occasion you frighten a fish from a dark and cold corner.
I only completed two dives the last time I went. The first one, at a depth of 130 feet, was a visit to “The Lady.” The lady was a piece of art that once hung in the first class smoking room during the luxury days before the war. During the war it was actually boarded over and found later when the rotting boards were removed under water. This dive is interesting mostly because you get yourself deep into the belly of the ship. On the way in you see large debris all laying on the port side of the ship; airplane drop tanks, jeeps with rusted axles and steering wheels, a barbers chair and large stainless steel cooking pots which were equipped to cook for the large navy crew. The second dive, shallower starting at about 90 feet, was to the medical office and cargo holds #1 and #2. These were really interesting dives, gas masks, tight squeezes, medicine bottles (with medicine still inside) and bullets clutter the hallways leading to medical supplies room. The cargo holds contain more large items, the jeeps, spare tires and the like. It was an amazing couple of dives on a shared piece of history linking the Ni-Vanuatu and American people together, the war and exposure to other cultures changing both countries so profoundly.
-Jessica

Three years and many laplaps later...

Nearly three years has passed since Benjamin and I arrived in the Republic of Vanuatu to serve as Peace Corps volunteers. I remember the flight on April 17th, 2004 quite distinctly as a plane closed on the islands of Vanuatu and approached the capital city of Port Villa on Efate Island. The speculations, laughter and conversations between the 15 “new recruits,” destined to spend the next two years as volunteers, gave way to silence and 15 noses pressed against about 8 windows looking down into a matrix of coconuts, cattle and tin-roofed residential structures. I remember thinking how very, very, very small the largest town in Vanuatu was and how odd it looked against an otherwise rural-rugged tableau of Efate Island.
Efate island houses nearly a quarter of the country’s 200,000 plus populace and the majority of the Ni-Vanuatu people on this island live in or around the capital city of Port Villa. The vast majority of the island is still quite rural. In fact Vanuatu as a whole is quite rural with about 80% of the country living in rural villages scattered through this volcanic archipelago. Only a handful, and I mean about 4 or 5 towns have electricity. Efate, much like many of the larger islands such as Malekula, Santo and Tanna, is sparsely populated within the dense and rugged terrain interiors, with the majority of the population living near the coast and subsequently, the dirt or coral roads.
Our first taste of rural Vanuatu was to come during a ten-week training in a rural village called “Epau” in the northeastern side of Efate Island. There, adopted into a local family and living among approximately 300 villagers, we were to learn about the Ni-Vanuatu way of life. Not a small task for 10 weeks: learning the ins and outs of a new culture, gender roles, language, technical skills, language and practical knowledge like cooking over a fire or opening a coconut (without using your machete or bush knife to cut your own hand off). I remember thinking, “Hey Bislama will be easy right? I mean it is just a pidgin of English after all.” Olsem, sapos mi stap raet long Bislama nomo bambae yu harem save o no? Oh yeah, not to mention getting used to quite different living conditions: different housing, no running water or one tap per family, electricity, new “bugs” (and when sick proceed to different toilet) and different food.
Being adaptive is essential, in addition to being able to laugh at yourself, when you are invariably going to get yourself into mishaps and misunderstandings, and as our director always says you “will always be learning more than you are teaching.” And after nearly three years, many trainings, workshops and “storians (discussions)” later, I hope that I have given half as much to Vanuatu as Vanuatu has given to me. It has been extremely testing at times, pushing me to the limits of resolve, understanding and patience, but overall more “laplap” and laughter than tears. At the end of our two months we headed out for two years on a rural island, Ben as an “Agribusiness and Agroforestry Extensionist” and I a “Coastal Resources Management Advisor.” After three years, and having visited numerous villages and different islands, the thing that strikes me about Ni-Vanuatu is that no matter what social strife, family feuds and disputes, economically dire situations or tragedy that strikes; Ni-Vanuatu are never far from a smile, which of course can be contagious.