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Published: November 12th 2009
Sam's Family
Here we are in Batou 5 on November 2ndNovember third was a rather interesting day. It’s not that every day is like this for me, but days like this happen frequently enough. I haven’t gotten around to recording many of my days this year, but maybe that's because I’m a little too busy living them up.
To fully grasp the entirety of this single day in the life, one needs to learn a bit about the night before. Simply put: there was a kava session. Un-simply put: I got to further the bond between a village chief’s family and myself, opened the eyes of an inexperienced companion traveler, engaged in a friendship ceremony with my oldest friend in the country, and all of this was because I failed to solve a supply chain issue which had erupted over inter-tribal cultural differences at one of our project sites.
November 2nd was a long day whose story can be told another time. We’ll just suffice it to say that it was a late night, facilitated by a bellyful of anesthetic muddy water.
November 3rd started at midnight for me (as I guess it did for everyone else in the world). I, however, was awake on my preferred anchor
New friends
Derrick had been on the crew for only a few short days. This was his first day in a remote village. watch, the 12 - 2AM. Altogether the first two hours of the day were relatively uneventful, but must be noted for the hours of sleep I had in total (or the lack of sleep, which may answer for some of the things that happened later in the day).
After watch I grabbed a pair of hours sleep. My wake-up came at 0430 to get prepped for an 0500 shore boat. Frank and I grabbed our kit and were shuttled to shore in the tinny (an introduction to Frank Zolnai, or description thereof would take volumes…so we’ll just say he’s a MARC Volunteer for now).
The trucks running along the East Coast of Malekula travel North to Lakotoro/Norsup in the morning, and return South in the afternoon. I had a meeting with the Ministry of Health Province Manager in Norsup at 11AM, so Frank and I were to catch a morning truck for return that afternoon. The drivers leave at first light from their respective villages, but since Summer is nearly here in Vanuatu, the sunrise is considerably earlier than 530AM. Our late arrival at the ‘bus stop’ meant that we’d missed the first two transports.
Sharing the
‘departure platform’ with us (and by ‘platform’ I mean patch of grass in the jungle) were several new mothers with infants in hand. Upon seeing this, I grew a little concerned that we might not catch a truck. Here’s why:
Once a month the Health Centers in each provincial Zone of the island offer check-ups for newborns and pregnant mothers. On these days the transports are filled beyond capacity with childbearing mamas and the roads are congested with more on foot. The rural Ni-Vanuatu are lacking in much, but the one thing which they have in great abundance is babies. If too many young mothers were making the pilgrimage to the health center, we would be out of luck for a ride.
So as Frank and I waited with the mamas, I began to come up with contingency plans in case we couldn’t get to Norsup in the morning. Luckily, the next transport that rumbled down the road was a Toyota Landcruiser flatbed, and it was ‘merely overloaded’ with people. This was good! It looked as though we would get a ride.
Please understand that all bush transports on Malekula are 4x4 pick-ups. Now imagine a school
Our Charioteer
Jerry runs the Maheh Transport from Lamap to Lakatoro/Norsup everyday. bus filled-to-capacity with humanity, chickens, and goods for the market. Take all the contents of the bus, and cram them into the bed of a pick-up, add tropical jungle & treacherous cliff roads, and you’ll have a Vanuatu transport. A transport driver will speed along the cliff face if he is ‘merely overloaded’ with passengers. He’ll drive slower if the truck is ‘Hazardously Overburdened,’ and he might even drive slowly if he is ‘Ludicrously Bogged Down’ with passengers. And on this last measurement, I think the driver only goes slowly because there are too many people sliding off the roof and then sitting on the hood of the truck. It’s a visibility issue more than anything else.
So back to the 0530 pick-up…We’d lucked out. Our ride was ‘merely overloaded.’ And among the
Some fellow passengers
At this point we've been on the truck for half an hour and have off loaded several mamas and newborns. This little one was going on to the next dispensary down the line. dozen-plus adults starting the trip with us, there was a sprinkling of infants to season the pot. Frank got some very cute photos before the truck picked up a few dozen more people along the way.
I guess you could say that the day REALLY began 45 minutes into our truck ride, when a pounding on the truck bed signaled the driver to pull over and stop the truck. The name of the village that we happened to be passing was ‘Bankimor,’ and some years ago a U.S. Peace Corps worker had been stationed there.
For the whole ride so far, Frank and I had been oblivious to the fact that one of our fellow passengers was quite far along in her pregnancy. Apparently she was on her way to the Norsup Hospital in preparation for the birth, and a relative had come along for support. It was this relative who signaled the driver to stop. We were still hours from Norsup, but this baby was not going to wait for the hospital’s semi-sterile conditions to make its entry in to the world.
I’m not sure if the mother’s water broke that morning in the village (thus
prompting the hours long truck ride), or if she actually went into labor on the truck. One thing was for sure, however, she was not going to have this baby on a hazardously overburdened moving vehicle.
After the soon-to-be-mother stepped off the truck and started pacing the road, many people started talking all at once. When the local villagers whisked the ladies into the Peace Corps house, everything grew quiet. All the passengers on the truck ceased talking and the driver seemed at a loss as to what to do. Were we going to wait for the delivery? And then what? Drive mother and newborn to the hospital? What if there were complications? Bleeding? Did the village have midwives?
In the vacuum of a decision, some passengers grew restless and demanded that the truck continue on its way to Lakatoro. Some disagreed with the popular opinion, and I hopped off the truck to go scope out the situation. If the village here had everything under control, as I assumed they would, then there was little that we could do to help. If the truck could be of use however, then we were obliged to provide it. We had
Bankimor
Here's a shot of the truck as we stopped in Bankimor already heard that someone had been sent to fetch the district nurse.
As I approached the Peace Corps house I asked one of the locals if the village midwife was already inside attending to the mother. The answer I received was not one that I wanted to hear. Apparently there was no village midwife, and there hadn’t been one for years. The villages this far North on the island do not have midwives anymore because there is such good access to health centers and the hospital. All mothers in this zone no longer gave birth in the villages.
When I entered the grass hut it was dark and there were two women standing next to the mother on the floor. The sterility of the room left much to be desired, but nobody was about to die that moment, so I turned to leave and fetch something more sterile than the grungy blue tarp that was lying on the ground.
As I turned to leave, however, the older women in the hut grabbed me saying that the baby was here. No time to grab clean towels I guess. We’d have to make do with what we had.
Transport to the Dispensary
After the delivery and arrival of the nurse, we all piled into the truck and were carried down to the dispensary. What happened next doesn’t need to be described in detail, but we’ll just say that as the two other women held the mother’s hands and legs I was left to play catcher behind home plate. All-in-all it didn’t take long, but it sure seemed like some of the longest minutes of my week. I can’t complain though, someone else in the room was having a tougher time.
After the delivery I poked my head out of the door and called to Frank for a couple of key items and tasks to be done. I’m so glad that he was there. You see, Frank Zolnai is a go-to kind of guy. When you need something that can’t be gotten, Frank can get it. When you need something arranged in a hurry, there’s nobody better. Maybe it’s from a career as a cop, or career as a soldier. He’s retired from two lifetimes of work, and the man’s only 55. Early on in last month’s MARC expedition Frank garnered his nickname ‘The Optimizer.’
Moments after I stepped back inside the hut, Frank was knocking on the door. The transport truck had been emptied and was racing down the road to
A new addition.
Here's SueLin. This photo was taken around 0730 at the Tisman Dispensary. grab the nurse at the next dispensary down the line. Frank had also McGuyver-ed some string that was semi sterile, hot water and soap was on the way, and a phone was ringing in St. Louis (all the way across the world). I’d asked Frank to get Dr. SueLin, MARC’s medical director, on the phone so I could ask a few questions.
I’m amazed at how fast Frank made it all come to pass, the Optimizer indeed. On another note, I talk a lot of crap about Digicel (the local cell service in Vanuatu), but as I connected to SueLin I was singing the praises to the Irish who installed the cell tower in Tisman, which gave us reception that morning.
A short while after the delivery, the nurse from the nearest dispensary showed up with all the luxury items in a box: latex gloves, sterile clamps, scissors, clean gauze…the works. It all came a little late but was appreciated just the same. As he held the clamps, he asked me to cut the umbilical cord. Apparently in this part of Malekula it’s the person who cuts the cord that names the child, so I was that guy.
All Very Official
Upon request, I wrote up a birth certificate on some notebook paper. SueLin Rovea was born at 0645 on November 3rd. I handwrote the birth certificate on a scrap of notebook paper, all the while thinking of the birth I attended one year before. Doctor Hilbert and I were in a far more remote village where no nurse was reachable for days, and it was there that she unknowingly named a baby after me. Payback was only fair in this instance I thought.
Once the lot of us helped the new mother into the truck, a small contingent of us drove back to the dispensary where the nurse would have some further work to do. There were photos and handshakes all around before the truck drove back to Bankimor. Once the original passengers were re-loaded (minus three) we sped down the road and across several rivers on our way to Lakatoro once again.
The town of Lakatoro is little more than a cross-roads hamlet (only without intersecting roads). It is the largest ‘city’ in Malekula and it is here that the airplane landing strip, hospital, and provincial government offices reside. Lakatoro is also the only place in Malampa Province with internet, but it only works 30% of the time.
The Hospital
Here's the Norsup Hospital. NICE facility. Frank and I had several goals for the day but as it was still early (830 or so), we had some time to kill. The Internet Café had some computers and printers that allowed us to print a photo of the new mother and baby (we planned to give it to her on the return trip). When the time came for me to head to the Norsup Hospital for my meeting I couldn’t flag down a truck for the life of me! This was going to become a problem.
When I finally made it to the meeting I was a little late. The meeting went well, but it didn’t help that it ran late too. I needed to be back in Lakatoro at noon for a 1230 departure back down the coast. If I missed the truck, I’d surely be up a creek with out a paddle.
I jogged off the hospital grounds to the road where there was no traffic in sight. One large flat bed delivery truck rested, halfway unloaded, on the side of the road. But there was no driver present. The time was 1215. I was late.
After a closer inspection I
The Optimizer
Here's Frank and me after our whirlwind morning ride. He actually has another nickname that was used more frequently, but we can't publish that text. saw that a man was sleeping in the cab. I woke him up and asked for the driver. He was apparently down the road, but the truck wouldn’t be available for transport I was told. I had to try however, so I took a run down the road to the driver. The following negotiation was my least favorite kind. I was in need, I was in a hurry, and the driver didn’t owe me a second thought. I knew that a delivery truck like his would usually move 100 people when he did human cargo. Taking one man on a ten-minute drive was not very lucrative for him. After telling me that he couldn’t do the job, I asked how much it would cost fully expecting an outrageous price. When he answered, he gave me a price that he thought would be so crazy I’d turn it down and leave him be. The sum total came to about 8 dollars US, so I told him that I’d pay him ten if we could go NOW, and we could go FAST.
As the truck rumbled to life and started bumping down the road I saw a transport full of people
heading our way. The local bus had finally showed up. I was thinking of pounding on the truck to signal a stop (so I could catch the bus for a dollar) when the driver of the delivery truck dropped his clutch foot on the accelerator. Apparently he was going to hold up his end of the bargain and drive VERY fast, but not until he was out of sight of the hospital (where he does many of his deliveries). By the time we left it was 1225, the drive usually took 10 minutes, and I needed to be in Lakatoro in 5.
We showed up in Lakatoro 30 seconds before my watch alarm chimed 1230.
What preceded our arrival was a white-knuckled, teeth-clenching flirtation with death that can only be described as a rally car race in a semi-truck. The truck didn’t roll (luckily), and nobody died (thankfully), but I nearly lost my hat a few times (which would have been the greatest tragedy of all). At the end of the trip I thanked the driver and paid the agreed price but couldn’t say much else over the thunderous laughter coming from the cab. The driver and shotgun-rider
Return Trip
Here's the fuel stop for the ride South. We only had a few passengers at the start. must have been watching me clutch the roll bar for my life during the whole ride; they were laughing so hard they were crying.
Frank was waiting for me at the rendezvous in Lakatoro but no truck was in sight. I smiled with relief to think that I’d made it in time. When he told me that our truck had come some 15 minutes before and then left, promising to come back, I grew a little worried. Would he come back? After sitting in wait for an hour I started to think about arranging for another truck South (if we could find one), when all of the sudden our truck rumbled down the road. I guess it can be said that there is value in not paying a driver in advance for a return ticket on the day.
The ride South was a bit less comfortable for Frank and me. Our butts were already bruised from sitting on the rail of a bumpy truck for a few hours this morning, and our heads were already whipped from when the truck was too overloaded and we had to stand up (low hanging branches above the road can be a
Frank in Asirohk
On Nov. 2nd we went to see if the cement had made it up the hill. real pain when you come at them going 55kph). We did stop at the dispensary to check up on the new mother, and to deliver the photo that we’d printed in Lakatoro.
Then, the afternoon got a little more complicated than the morning. Let me take you back some, to help explain the goings-on. In Asirohk village we were helping to upgrade an aid post (building bricks to make walls on an existing cement floor). The allotted cement was more than needed, so I took the excess to another village (Renovir) to make a water tank there. As the project evolved in Asirohk, it was determined that a completely new aid post could be constructed with the cement allotted. The numbers of cement bags didn’t add up and in the toss-up it became evident that 10 more bags would be required to complete the job. The Renovir project had 5 bags more than they needed, so we would return those 5 to Asirohk, and I would purchase 5 bags in Luganville for delivery in November. When I left Banam Bay in September, I had told the men in Asirohk to go to Renovir so they could pick up the
Tok-tok
Here's where we got the skinny on the Renovir / Asirohk situation. 5 bags of cement. The workers in Renovir were also told to expect the men from Asirohk, they even agreed to help the men carry the cement to the delivery truck when the time came.
In my absence, however, the men from Asirohk went to Renovir but were denied the 5 bags of cement. The cost of fuel for the delivery truck was an issue and it was demanded that the price of fuel be paid by the workers of Renovir, even though they refused to give back the 5 bags of cement. An argument ensued between villages, but could not be resolved due to cultural differences. You see, the people in Asirohk are Dengan (as are the inhabitants of most coastal villages in SE Malekua), and the people in Renovir are Mo-Dengan (traditionally mountain people that have recently relocated to the coast in a few places).
A little glimpse into my day on November 2nd involves the failed attempt to resolve this issue (which is truly my fault when you break it all down). And of course there is the issue of the cement delivery (5 bags) from Alvei to Asirohk, which didn’t happen on November 2nd
Unfinished aid post
The ten bags of cement were to complete this job. either.
So all of this was on my mind when our truck pulled into Asirohk on the return from Lakatoro. I signaled the truck to stop, and had a brief tok-tok with the men in the village. Apparently the Asirohk truck that was supposed to do the job yesterday had broken down in the afternoon on its return from Norsup. They apologized, and said this is why I had been left waiting in the road, sitting on 5 bags of cement the day before.
I ran through a couple contingency plans with the men, and came to the conclusion that the best course of action was to got to Remev Village (where a truck was being repaired) to see if they could do the delivery. This worked out best because I already had to go to Remev Village for a few reasons.
Firstly, the mother of the new baby was from Remev Village and we wanted to go and tell them of the news. Secondly, we needed to visit our water project sites for additional photos and Remev had the first water tank that we installed in September. It was serendipity that things were all coming together
The waiting game
On the second there was no truck for my five bags. But there was a mobile mill cutting down old growth forrest. so well.
(On a side note about the new mother from Remev…she apparently knew my name from MARC’s work in Banam Bay, and she recognized me without saying anything. When she finally did say my name after the whirlwind delivery it spooked me something fierce, and then made me utterly ashamed that I didn’t recognize her.)
When Frank and I reached Remev village we were greeted by many friends and familiar faces. I paid the driver for our transport to Lakatoro, and overpaid to thank him for all the help with the delivery that morning.
Luck was still on our side because the village truck had been repaired to a workable level. It still needed a push to start and radiator water every 10 minutes, but it would run fine enough and could probably handle the delivery of 10 bags of cement. The delivery of news to the new father also went over pretty well. Indeed the whole village was curious to hear about the new addition to their community. Everyone crowded around to see photos of the new baby on Frank’s digital camera.
I negotiated a deal with Warren (the Remev truck driver) and 5
Remith
Warren had just finished repairing his truck when we arrived. men from the village. Our mission was to go down the coast to Renovir, aquire 5 bags of cement, return to the Sason clinic where I’d stashed the other 5 bags of cement, and then head on to Asirohk to complete the delivery. As we were making the plans for the rest of our afternoon the chief of Remev village came to us and said that the new father was just been sent to his garden to bring back kava for the night, and we would be required to have a Kava Ceremony with the men in Remev. The to-do list was adding up, and the sun was quickly going down.
Before we left Remev we slapped a sticker for the ‘Deco Stop Lodge’ onto the water tank and had a quick photo session. Ben Healy, the owner of the Deco Stop in Luganville, donated a chunk of money for our water projects in Malekula. When I departed the states this June I had printed stickers with the names of all our donors (thanks to Doloswalls.com) but Ben was a late-in-the-day donor and we didn’t have a sticker made for him in advance. His donation paid for all the
Burbar
Here's Frank at the Burbar photostop. The Deco Stop sticker is pretty cool looking. I love the 'Deco Dingo' as their logo. lumber that our gutter pipes were mounted to (along with other sundries). During our last stop in Luganville I picked up a few Deco Stop Lodge stickers and wanted to put them on the tanks where his money had gone to give aid.
Once we pushed the truck to a start we flew along the road on our way to Blacksands (the beach where Renovir is located). The truck couldn’t go all the way to Renovir because a large river bisects Blacksands beach. I knew that at high tide the river was difficult to cross, so I was hoping for low water upon arrival, but it didn’t really make much of a difference. We had a job to do in a very short amount of time. We had to get that cement come hell or high water. (After doing the job, I think I may have preferred the former instead of the latter.)
On the way to Blacksands we made a photo stop in Burbar, but the delay made little difference. When we parked our truck next to the river on the beach the tide was in, the wind was strong, and the waves were high. Having crossed
the river several times before, I knew that the water was likely at chest level. There were boats moored up-river, but arranging with the owners to help transport cement would take more time than we had.
The guys in the truck started arguing over what to do. There was a yellow boat moored close by, so it was deemed our best shot at getting the cement across the river. “But who owned it? Could they be contacted? Could we just borrow it for a bit? Wait, it doesn’t have a motor…but we can paddle it! Wait, where are we going to get paddles?”
As the conversation progressed, I told Frank to stay on this side of the river with the men to settle the boast issue while I took two fellas across the river to gather the cement. If there was an issue in Renovir that needed to be settled, it might take some time me to handle things. It was best that Frank & I work simultaneously in our efforts. The sun was nearly setting and we had a long way to go.
When I crossed the river in my boxers I found that the water
The long walk
Cement on shoulders, hike on sand. You can't see the village from here. It's further down the beach. only came up to my armpits. “Hey!” I though to myself, “If need be, we can carry the cement across the river on our heads!” Things were going to work out after all!
A sprint down the beach for half a mile took me to Renovir village. The fellas with me from Remev picked up on my feeling of urgency and sprinted along with me (only for them it was more of a leisurely jog). When we reached the village we found a pile of cement bags on the beach along with other goods. I found out that the cement was only recently delivered by boat and belonged to one of the businessmen in the village. I arranged with his daughter that he could have 5 bags of Project MARC cement, which were stored at the church, if we could have 5 of his bags from the beach. This arrangement shaved off about 5 minutes of cement carrying time and also that much damage to my already sore back.
Once back on the sand we loaded a bag each onto our shoulders and then started the slog down the beach back to the river. Let me just say
The deep part
The middle of the river started to spawn second thoughts. that walking in sand is not aided by 40 kilos of cement on your shoulders.
When we reached the river, I could see that the yellow boat was still tied up in the river and that our men on the other side were still talking. The two cement porters with me moved off the beach to drop their bags of cement in the trees, but I plodded on into the river. As the men on the other side of the water saw me, they started shouting for me to go back. “The boat, the boat! We’re getting the boat!” they shouted. I knew that the time it could take to get the yellow boat would put us well after dark, and I couldn’t wait that long. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that led to the poor decision-making, who knows. What is for sure is that I decided to enter a raging river after hoisting a 40 kilo bag of cement onto my head.
This was pure stupidity.
As soon as I entered the deepest part of the river, I started to have second thoughts. The sand in the riverbed was softer than on the beach so
Turning to face it...
This is the wave that caused all that contemplation. my feet sunk further than usual. Also, during my time gathering the cement from Renovir, the tide had gone up and the wind had freshened…making the waves from the sea come into the river a little higher. I was in water well over my armpits with the cement on my head when I saw the wave that was bigger than the rest. It was coming for me without pause, and I turned to face it as I contemplated the options before me.
My first thought was to ‘simply’ jump as the wave hit me, and thus keep my bag of cement dry. The thought of jumping with the cement didn’t deter me, it was the thought of landing after the jump with an 88 pound bag of neck-snapping fury on my head. The next option was to clean-and-jerk the cement over my head like an Olympic weight lifter, take the wave in the face, and keep the cement dry. But I had my doubts about this option as well. A) I’m no Olympic weight lifter. B) If I dropped the bag on my head after the lift, we’re back to the neck-snapping issue of my first idea. C) If
The smart thing to do.
Here's the boat that Frank had arranged. If only I'd seen them at first. I drop the bag on my chest, I’ll likely drown on the riverbed while pinned to the sand with a quickly forming bag of concrete on my torso.
It is often said that I think about things too much, and this instance here obviously proves that rule. You see, while I was contemplating the ways that I might die while trying to keep this bag of cement dry…the wave hit me.
I didn’t die, but I did get a mouthful of brackish water. The bag got splashed pretty heavily, but was not submerged, and in the end it all worked out pretty well. I’d like to thank the genetics of my parents for making me a relatively short and stocky individual. If that had not been the case, I think that things could have gone a blind sight worse than they did.
Once on the other side of the river, Warren and Frank chastised me fiercely. It was here that I realized my foolishness. Although the yellow boat was still tied up, Frank had already worked out for two other boats to carry the cement across the river. I should have trusted in the abilities of the
Optimizer, for as I turned my head to look back I saw two little boys in dugout canoes paddling the other two bags of cement across the water. I bowed my head; it had been a long day.
The sun was starting to set, and long day or not, we had more work to do.
We push started the truck (tough to do on sand when laden with cement), and headed off to Nambagura village. We did another sticker/photo stop, and headed on our way. Fifteen minutes later we loaded 5 more bags of cement at the Sason Dispensary and I got a chance to change into dry clothes. With the sun almost down, we dropped the bags in Asirohk to the thanks of the villagers there. This last supply of cement meant the carpenters could have the bricks laid in a matter of days. It felt good to finally have that issue resolved.
Our main task for the afternoon complete, I started to allow myself a chance to relax. There was still one last stop to make but it would be easy in comparison to the rest of the day. The Kava was prepared when we
reached Remev, so Frank and I shared shells of the stuff with Warren and the village chief. We couldn’t stay long though, because we had a shore boat to catch at the beach in Banam Bay.
Once back onboard, Frank and I had a couple drinks to toast the entry of the newest SueLin to the world. After a little dinner and a recap of the day to the rest of the crew, I headed to my bunk for a couple hours sleep before anchor watch at midnight. It would be an early morning the next day. I would have to be on shore at 0600 to run up to Repatsivir village for business before ship’s departure that same morning. We had to weigh 30 fathoms of anchor cable, and unless we got help from shore there would only be four of us to do it.
Late nights and long days, followed by early mornings…it’s not that everyday is like this for me, but enough of them are.
Sorry for not updating you all more frequently. In the aftermath of this year’s Project MARC operating season I’ll do my best to recount for you all
some of the more exciting days of the past couple months.
Thank you, as always, for your support. Without you none of this would be possible. It is you who do this work and I who is simply the tool that cranks the machine. I wish you all could be here to experience this with me. Aside from being a lot of work, it’s actually a lot of fun. Thank you, so much.
Seamus O’Bryan, USA
November 3rd, 2009
P.S: As per request...it must be mentioned (for the record) that Frank Zolnai is straight, single, and sooooo good looking.
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SueLin
non-member comment
Thank you for all your hard work and dashing heroics! That was quite possibly one of the craziest phone calls I've ever had!