Island Justice Part 2

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i have to apologize. it seems sher's tone unsettled a few avid readers. be at ease - there is resolution. and sher's voice is reassuring on the phone. i can't really say 'enjoy' this ending to the story, but i hope it leaves your mind a little less anxious. have a good week - b

Early March 2010

Island Justice Part II

On Tuesday, the day after the vicious village meeting, the older man, who was beaten to a pulp and unable to walk or talk, was still in the health center. Visitors came to question him, trying to pump as much information from him in regards to the crime as possible. Somehow it surfaced that he was paid 5,000 vatu (about $50) to work the custom, as were the other two young men. Now a whole new wave of commotion surged as people speculated who would have the funds and the motivation to hire such help.

At this time, the two younger suspects remained missing in action in the bush. One was spotted by a group of men who were hunting for them. The men had made spears, fastening kitchen knives to slender limbs in a fashion used for hunting wild pigs. One of the spears made its’ mark on one of the young men, but he continued to flee. The talk was that he may bleed to death by himself in the bush.

At the school, two more teachers had shown up. These two are returners from last year and they are scared silly to even be on school grounds. One of them is supposed to be the headmaster of the school this year, a position he is adamantly refusing. He fears that being in a lead position at the school will reap repercussions similar to the fate of the previous headmaster. There was still no sign of a principal for the secondary school, nor any more teachers. There were only three teachers for the primary school. Justin and I sat around with them and story, trying to suggest a course of action. Whenever an idea comes up, like where to get funds to mow the grass or how to pass word to start enrollment, the teachers would giggle nervously when it comes down to the logistics of putting that idea into action. No one was willing to take a stand in the name of the school; no one was willing to take a leadership role in this situation.

Eventually, the situation at the school was resolved. The guy who was supposed to be the headmaster split up the headmaster duties with another teacher. One of them would handle the money, the other would make decisions and announcements under the title of “caretaker.” At the secondary school, one of the teachers who taught here last year is acting principal, with the possibility of her taking over the role completely. Things slowly started to come together when the following Monday, two weeks after the “first day of school” students filtered into the school grounds. The first few days were mostly spent weeding and deciding who would teach which class, but at least things were getting started.

Meanwhile, the two young men had turned themselves in at their home village. They stayed for a few days to await a meeting that would decide their fate. After those few days, though, the strong talk about most people wanting them dead must have got to them and they fled again. This time, they took a locally built outrigger canoe and started paddling towards Ambae. A small motor boat found them, exhausted and a drift in the salt water, and offered to take them the rest of the way to Ambae. There the two sought sanctuary with the tasus at the Anglican seminary where they confessed to being involved in poisoning the headmaster. The tasus did not want responsibility of the suspects and called the police on Ambae to come take them into custody. Later that day, the police on Ambae took the men away in handcuffs.

After they had been absent for a day, the men of the suspects’ (and the late headmaster’s) home village decided to take justice into their own hands. Because the “white man court system” requires physical evidence and proof to prosecute and charge someone with a crime, “poison men” are not hampered by it. But the people on Maewo wanted to make a statement that this sort of work is not approved of. Following orders of the high ranking chiefs, the men loaded into their village’s motor boat in the middle of the night and headed to Ambae in pursuit of the two young villains. Catching up to them at the police station early the next morning, the police handed the pair over, claiming that issues involving custom have to be resolved with custom and have no place inside the system of law.

As the two suspects were loaded into the boat to be taken back to Maewo, they noticed the boat loaded with weapons: axes, knives, large pieces of iron, and stones. As the boat pulled away from shore, they jumped and attempted to swim back to land. Seeing this, the men didn’t wait for justice to be served on Maewo, but took matters into their own hands. The two suspects were killed in the public eye on the beach of Ambae. Their bodies were loaded back into the boat and hauled to Maewo.

By the time the boat was making its’ way back to Maewo, the news of the beating and consequential death of the two men had circulated all over the country. Someone called the public phone in our village and the news spread around the island from there. The general reaction was that the killings were a necessary evil to stop the poison work on Maewo. School was let out for the day for the students and teachers to be home with their families to digest the news. News had travelled to other islands as well. A bulletin came out over Radio Vanuatu asking the men on Maewo not to bury the two victims. The police commissioner was chartering a plane to come to Maewo and wanted to look at the bodies and talk with the chiefs who authorized their deaths.

Now the proverbial clash between what was custom and what was contemporary was about to go down. Even with the imminent arrival of the police commissioner, the people of Maewo were still supportive of what had happened. Comments like “i mus olsem nao, ol cot blong waet man i no save handlem kin kin wok olsem ia” (It has to be like this, white man court can’t handle this kind of crime). They regretted only that the incident had not happened in the isolation of Maewo, where outside authorities would probably not have been involved.

Such is the conundrum that Maewo finds itself in with a variety of situations. While being prideful of their strong custom and the mystery that surrounds it, they are still considered part of the nation of Vanuatu and fall under the nation’s judicial system. But, when that judicial system is weak or doesn’t coincide with the people’s needs of it, the locals take matters into their own hands. Thoughts of polygamist colonies in the US, and how their beliefs impact their lifestyle while clashing with the norm of society, come to mind in comparison with this “above the law” mentality.

The boat arrived back to Maewo with the victims’ bodies. According to custom beliefs on Maewo, if a man is buried on the land, his spirit can still walk about and haunt the living on the island. To keep this from happening, the chiefs decided that the men should not be buried but instead have their bodies drowned in the salt water. So, instead of heeding the police commissioners request via radio not to bury them, the bodies were hauled back out into the ocean by boat, fastened to heavy stones, and drowned.

Then, still waiting for the chartered flight carrying the police to arrive, the community conducted a peace ceremony with the two young men’s families. After kava and exchanging “sori,” the whole event was supposed to be left in the past and not talked of again.

That didn’t work out to well when ten policemen arrived to question all those involved. Essentially, every one of the boatload of men who pursued the victims to Ambae and the chiefs who authorized their actions were taken by plane back to the police station on Santo for further interrogation. The plane had to make a second trip to carry them all.

As I prepare to post this blog, the state of matters has stayed about the same since then. The men are still on Santo where they are preparing to go to court. Key witnesses include the rasas, custom chiefs of Maewo who know the island’s customs inside and out. They will probably be questioned about the manner that the two men were killed, and whether they can testify that Maewo custom called for that strong of a reaction. When the police on Ambae turned the two suspects over to the men for the conflict to be resolved “by custom,” they probably didn’t anticipate that resolution including murder. The rasas will also be asked about the disposal of the bodies and whether or not that is a legit interpretation of the custom law.

The school continues to suffer, which, in turn, makes my heart suffer. As much as I support and respect the strong custom on Maewo, it is hard to when it is hampering the people’s access to education. Maewo needs the next few generations to be literate problem solvers who can look at the past and decide whether or not custom needs to be a little more plastic given modern society’s expectations. Without the school, I fear for the future of Maewo.

At the secondary school, there are not enough students enrolled to justify the teachers’ being here. The boarding students from Pentecost and Ambae as well as two of the primary teachers, all of whom were hesitant to come in the first place, have high tailed it back home. During the week following the death of the two suspects, there were no classes at the primary school. The secondary continued on, but two days from now is the cut off for enrollment. If the total of students doesn’t double in that time, from 30 to 60, the secondary school will be closed for the year.

In regards to how this affects Justin and I: our primary assignment work will be greatly reduced. I have made a few contacts with the area kindys, which are still up and running despite the mess at Gambule, and hope to be working with them soon. Justin, well, he’s got another bleak looking year ahead of him in terms of project work. If the primary school gets their act together, he may have a few teachers to work with on the computers. And that is a big if. He is still waiting for a slow coming reply from the cultural center representative on Maewo regarding documenting different traditions and ceremonies. But, as our time here is winding down, we are realistically not anticipating too much for these last few months. We could ask Peace Corps to move us to another site for the remainder of our service, but neither of us wants to start from scratch again. By the time we got settled and started making the relationships and connections needed to be effective, it would be about time for our close of service.

And so, we stick it out. The updates and breakthroughs of news come and go, but we try to be a constant, solid, predictable presence in this community’s time of turmoil. A support to education, to understanding, to peace. Maybe the majority of our work won’t be able to be documented or directly referenced. Maybe we’ll just learn from each other while we have this time together, the effects of which we may never know, and call it good. Bislama says it best with the phrase “olsem nao.” That’s just the way it is.

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