News Briefs (3rd Edition)

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whats up readers. i'm officially in the summer spirit. finished up my geo class this morning, just got dq with my parents, and leave for colorado tomorrow morning. it's girls just wanna have fun time and i hope durango is ready for us. and i hope you're enjoying the little things/feelings that only summer can give you. this may be the last blog for awhile, but we'll see. enjoy, take care - b


22 April 2010

Island Justice Update
The situation involving the killing of the two men still remains fairly unresolved, though nowhere near as intense as it was about a month ago. The chiefs and leaders of Maewo have been busy making peace in their own village, on Ambae, and even to the chief’s council in Vila. Justin has been counting the number of pigs given in peace ceremonies because of this event; his total is seven to date. Pigs with their tusks in a full circle are worth about 30,000-40,000 vatu ($300-$400). One of the pigs had its’ tusks in a double full circle, increasing his value even more. In pigs alone, that’d be about $2,500. Plus the price of the custom mats and kava being given, this is quite an expensive crime.

Seven of the men remain in prison in Santo, awaiting their court date. Police officers have been collecting statements from village chiefs and custom chiefs (those who earned their rank and title of chief through the custom, nakamol system) as well as eye witnesses to the killings on Ambae. According to our most reliable source of outside news, the postman, the most jail time the men can be assigned, if found guilty, is 20 years. I have a hard time believing that prison is a legit punishment for these guys, many of whom rarely get the chance to leave the island. In Santo they get to hang out in a new place, probably eat rice and biscuits, probably have electricity, and are with family. We’ve heard that some inmates are required to go to school. Although this is probably adding to the novelty of their being in jail, I find this prospect encouraging. That, to me, is a step in the right direction and their lack of education is probably the root of the reason that these crimes were committed. Hit the books, boys!

A few tensions that remain surrounding the issue: Who paid the men to work this custom? Now fingers are being pointed at the other school on the island that is looking to expand into a secondary school (as of now, Gambule is the only secondary school on the island). People here think that the family, who is largely, tied to this other school, sought to ruin Gambule to create a larger student population for their school. Most of the adult generation of this family has jobs, running stores or working at the school, so another justification that they’d have money to pay for such a deed. One of the men of the family caught wind of the suspicions, packed up his things and left on the next flight off the island. I worried that things were going to heat back up again, but I haven’t heard any more on that topic since he left.

Another issue is that of the two men who were killed and their “100 Days” celebrations. Some family members, mostly extended family in another village, want to go through the traditional steps of preparing food, stone grinding kava, and having the family come together every ten days. Those of the village of the late headmaster are strictly refusing to adhere to the custom for them.

A few interesting scenarios have come about that do directly involve us. Justin’s host family, whose village attends an Anglican church, has provided the us with holy water. His sisters carried a plastic Powerade bottle of it down to our house one afternoon and asked us if we had any little bottles to hold some of the water in for ourselves. Justin dug around and procured a Tabasco sauce and a vodka shooter bottle. I entered the scene at about this time and, growing up Methodist, was a bit confused by the whole holy water concept. His sister, Lolo, sweetly handed me my Tabasco vial of holy water saying, “Hemia holi wota blong yu.” Not sure if I should drink it, sprinkle it on myself, or what, I thanked her and left it sitting on the counter. After they left, smartly showing off their own containers of the blessed liquid that secured their safe walk home, Justin and I nestled our own bottles into our island baskets for the next few weeks of walking about.

The 100 Days for the late headmaster are drawing to an end, today was the 80 Day. We’ve made thetrip down to attend the ones that we can, doing our best to show support to Justin’s family. People from this area, especially teachers who are from other islands, are a bit shocked that we are willing to go spend time in the village now notorious for permitting two of its’ members to be killed. Still, they are the same people we’ve been spending time with for the past year. When we first went back after the most of the fiasco had blown over, Justin’s fufu (grandma) met us in tears. She cried and wailed while I hugged her, and afterwards she thanked us for coming. She was worried that she hadn’t seen us in awhile. That scene will be imprinted on my mind forever and, to me, it speaks to the layered complications of this whole thing. The headmaster’s widow, sister (also Justin’s host mom), and mother were proud to show me the grave and the multiple laplaps that they were preparing. For the 50 Day celebration, they baked 13 large laplaps, enough to feed about 200 people! I am still in respectful awe of the sense of closure these traditions create to the people here. The women seem to feel contented and comforted in knowing they are doing all this work in memory of the loved one they lost.

Chaz and Sherry
Justin has been a busy green thumb, keeping a nice supply of green vegetables growing in our yard. His unique kava garden has won the admiration of the resident agriculture field assistant. Another government paid position, the “ag guy” lives close to the school and is sort of like the county extension agent in the states. He is a native of Pentecost and fairly lonely here, so he spends lots of time at the school and LOTS of time at our house. He loves the shape, location, and relative success of the gardens Justin is maintaining. He loves to smell our basil and have me repeatedly tell him how we cook with it. He loves to talk about the same things for hours. He shortens Justin’s name to one syllable, which in Bislama sounds like “Chaz,” and calls me “Sherry.” I think the two names together have explosive potential; I’m thinking comic strips or maybe a TV show…

School Matters
The past month has been a stable one for the school, which is a wonderful relief. Though the numbers of students remain low and the school is still understaffed, those who are here are hanging in there. Including us.

I’ve started working on phonics again with grades 1, 2, and 3. The caretaker pretty much gave me the reigns and is letting me design the program for this year. Instead of doing workshops, I’ve been teaching phonics lessons in each class for about a week at a time, and then helping that teacher plan and continue for the weeks to come. The first grade teacher is a new one for me to work with, though she’s been teaching first grade at Gambule off and on for the past 15 years! She is an exceptional women to work with and, in my opinion, the best thing the school has going for it right now. Having a local teacher as loyal and dedicated to the school as she shows herself to be is such an asset to this community, and probably an underappreciated one at that. She is absolutely loving the new activities and using them right away in her classroom. I could not ask for more. The second and third grade teachers are two young women about my age who attended all my workshops last year. Working with all women is easier, lots of the awkward tension and social barriers dissolve in this setting.

Justin has got the computers all plugged in and ready to roll. The first few weeks of having them around and powered up were pretty disappointing. Since the generator only runs two hours a night, and the computers depend on its’ power to function, many of the teachers were not interested in utilizing them after school hours. Here were the computers, FINALLY all ready to go, and no one there to use them. So, reserving one computer for the teacher’s to use should they choose to, Justin is taking students from the tenth grade class in small groups to teach them the basics. He’s finally getting a taste of what his primary job assignment should have been all this time.

Taro Cake
The cooking workshops are still happening every once in awhile. The latest success was taro cake, a recipe my aunt in the States found on the internet and sent in the mail to me. Taro cake is made with mashed taro instead of flour, coconut milk, as well as scratched coconut. There is a little bit of sugar and an egg, which are the only two ingredients that a local here would need to buy. Because of this, the recipe is very cheap and appealing. When done, the cake itself reminds me of a sweetened version of laplap, sort of like a pudding or custard; which, to me, is not all that appetizing. I wasn’t sure how the mamas would like it. Surely my previous recipes of banana bread and cinnamon rolls would seem much better than these. But I was wrong. The mamas went nuts for it, couldn’t wait to taste it, wanted to take a piece home for their husbands to taste, raved on and on about how perfect this is for a swit samting that is cheap to make. Their reaction amused me, and I couldn’t hide it as I spooned out sloppy servings of the mushy cake. But, I suppose the inverse of the saying is true, “When mama is happy…”

Kava Cake?
Justin’s been using my baking skills as well. One of his buddies really likes the banana bread and always asks us to bake one for him. One lazy afternoon, Justin was inspired with an idea. He grabbed a glass bottle and our largest saucepan that we use to bake with on the fire. Laying the bottle down inside, he found it was a perfect fit in the pan. “Could you bake a cake with a glass bottle inside?” he asked. I didn’t see why not.

It was just a matter of time before the next opportunity for a “rake.” Raking someone with kava is like tricking them into having to drink. Maewo custom says that if someone accepts the kava you give to them, they have to drink it. The guys like to play with this custom and trick their friends into unknowingly accepting kava. Their ventures just keep getting wilder and more creative. Once, they tied a bottle of kava to the end of a fishing string and, when the prospective drinker pulled up in his boat, acted like it was a strong fish, too heavy for them to pull in. The guy, who they were tricking into a drink, volunteered to help pull in the “fish.” When they handed him the string, he had accepted the kava tied on the end of the string and now had to drink it. Another time, a guy pierced the side of a coca cola can and drained out the liquid, replacing it with kava. When another came along and wanted to share the soft drink with him, he also, unknowingly, was accepting kava.

Justin caused quite a stir with his kava cake shenanigan. On Easter weekend, he and another buddy ground the kava while I baked the cake with the empty glass bottle inside. When the bottle was still a little visible through the cake, I made a frosting to smooth over and completely cover up the bottle. Then, the kava was funneled into the bottle, which was now baked inside of the cake. The lid of the bottle we disguised with a sign that read “Happy Easter” and the cake looked normal.

So that the future receiver of the kava wouldn’t suspect any foul play, we had two young boys deliver the cake, telling them to wait until he actually cut into the cake before leaving it with him. Hearing their rendition of the events was hilarious. At first, the guy was so excited to have a cake for Easter. “Tankyiu tumas! Yufala i tinkbaot mi long Easter wiken ia.” (Thank you very much. You guys are thinking about me this Easter weekend.) Then, at the delivery boys’ encouragement, he cut into the cake and felt the knife hit the glass bottle inside. He was baffled, then realized what was inside the cake and said a few choice words. He really had not suspected a thing!

Camp GLOW / BILD
Coming up next week, we’ll be heading to Sandy and Justine’s village for their Camp GLOW / BILD. Using the training we got on Ambae last August, their committee is ready to put on a camp for the youth of their own community. Justin and I, as well as a few other volunteers, are coming together to help out. We’re high on the list of helpers so we can run the “Healthy Relationships” session.

For anyone wondering, our own committee has pretty much dissolved, gone their separate ways for one reason or another. We prodded around trying to get some new committee members to represent the youth of Betarara to attend this camp of Justine and Sandy’s, but there hasn’t been much interest. So, to quell my craving to support this program, we’ll help out with our neighbor’s camp instead. And practice one of the lessons life here is constantly trying to teach me: sometimes it’s just best to let go of an idea.

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Photos

RasRas
Used to grate the taro for laplap.

Kava
Justin, his host brother, and a cousin ready for the 50 Day with their kava.

The Headmaster's Grave
His widow, sister, and son look on. They are letting their hair grow without combing it for the duration of the 100 Days.

Phonics Time
Teaching in class 3

Letter 'M'
Still phonics. Don’t look to close, there are some ‘N’s in there.

Computer Class
One student ready to learn with the computers

Taro Cake
Served on only the finest notebook paper.

Kava Cake
Before the frosting.