My last goodbye

The two blogs “Around the Island in 10 days” and “Last update from Aneityum” were written before I actually left the island.

This blog is to explain a bit of why im leaving and where im going.

As you read or perhaps will read in the School Section of “Last Update” blog, school was… well not really working. After the fire at the headmaster’s house, we haven’t really been able to get back on track. There is also a Presbyterian Assembly happening in November, which was reason enough to cancel school until February. When peace corps looked at the report made by the Ministry of Education’s Zone Curriculum Advisor on how the school is running, they decided to pull me out and send me to Espirito Santo Island up north.

To make a long story short, I left Aneityum yesterday—October 8th. My last days were surreal and I still cant really believe I wont be going back there. The custom when someone leaves is to have a “last kakae” where friends and family come together, everyone brings a small dish of food to share, and we all give small speeches. My closets friend, Lilon, organized a last kakae for me Wednesday night.

Wednesday was our first women’s football (soccer) game. We had successfully organized 6 women’s teams, got the “OK” from the chiefs, the headmen of families, and the husbands for the women to play, and went ahead with 2 matches on Wednesday. It took about an hour of hanging around the field before mamas started to feel comfortable enough to get on the field. Some played in their island dresses, others stripped to shorts (!!!!) which is a BIG deal. People started gathering around the field to watch, but it didn’t matter. Once the whistle blew, we were ready to play.

It was great seeing all the mamas out there sweating, running around, falling down, laughing, calling out to their teammates. One team had even come up with hand signals! It was a great success I think and I hope that the teams keep up after im gone.

After soccer, the mamas went home and showered. The kids decorated my house with inpa leaves of peace and flowers. As the sun started to go down, Mamas came with plates of laplap, chicken soup, iced cakes, boiled taro, milked manioc, yam “porridge”. And kava, a big bucket of kava that had a sign on it that read “Mamas only”; that night the roles would be reversed: the women would huddle around the bucket for shells of kava while the men watched and waited anxiously on the periphery for any extra shells that may be left behind. There weren’t many places to sit down, only one bench, so the Mamas quickly wove some mats of coconut leaves and we began the ceremony.

Auntie Lorraine led the ceremony and opened with a very kind speech thanking me for my work and reminiscing on the memories we had made together. When she finished, she asked if anyone else had a “smol toktok”. Lalep, the oldest man of the island and a well respected elder, stood up with feathers in his hair and an inpa crown around his head and gave a thoughtful speech on behalf of the men and elders of the village. Lilon also gave a speech that was more personal, talking about the friendship we had made. Her speech triggered tears throughout the crowd, and by the time my turn came to give a toktok, I couldn’t hold them back. I thanked the village for taking care of me, for helping me when I needed help, for welcoming me, for storying with me, for accepting me. I thanked individuals who I formed special relationships with (holding back tears as I did so). By the end, I was crying, they were crying, but we ended in tears of laughter. I sat down and they came in a line to shake hands and give gifts. I was given 6 baskets, 8 calicoes (fabrics), 3 island dresses, a towel, and 2 tshirts.

The Mamas that don’t drink kava made plates of food for the rest of us. The rest of us that do drink kava, drank enough kava to make us all cross-eyed. We drank and drank until everyone else had left. Then we drank some more. We worked the “makas” which is the kava root after it has already been washed for the first time, it would be like using coffee grounds that you already made of pot of coffee with, but making a second pot with the used grounds. We worked makas for hours. Shell after shell. The moon came out and passed over us as we passed the shells around. I have no idea what time we finished or who made it to the end. I woke up in the morning around 530, outside, on the coconut mats with 2 Mamas and one of their kids.


Leaving the island on Thursday was hard. Lilon helped me carry all my stuff to the beach where we had to catch a boat to go to Mystery Island where the airport is. Villagers came down to the beach to shake hands before I left. As the boat pulled off, my dog Najaj swam after it, hoping I had just forgotten to put her in. As we crossed the short passage, Wantesian and Katilav caught my attention. They were swimming in the ocean just in front of my house, naked, happy, playing, yelling for me, waving. I sat on top of the fiberglass boat, tears quietly falling, and waved for the last time to two of my favorite kids. They waved back frantically, as if to make sure I could see and understand. Then, Wantesian went down and did a twirling handstand in the water—something I had taught her the first week I was here.

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