Kava: That Most Magical Drink

My friend Jay's nakamal (kava bar)

Standing in the shadowy outskirts of the nakamal, facing the sea, I sniff quickly and hold my breath. Slowly bringing the cup held in my right hand to my lips, I tilt it backwards and drink, taking long gulping draughts. I feel my throat tighten and relax, as it does every time I take a shell of kava. On its tightening, I wonder if this will be the shell that makes me traut (throw up), but when it relaxes, I know the danger has passed. When the cup is empty, I drop my hand and shake it, just slightly, to dislodge any last dregs that remain. The aftertaste is strong, earthy, and a little spicy; it feels as though I just drank some peppery, muddy water. With practiced ease, I spit on the ground, expelling as much excess saliva as I can to get rid of the taste. My lips and tongue tingle a little bit as I go replace my shell on the counter, to be rinsed and reused by the next customer.

You speak what language?

One common question I got asked before coming to Vanuatu was, "What language do they speak there?" Vanuatu has three official languages: French, English, and Bislama, a pidgin language with basis in French, English, and various local languages. Once you get outside the official languages however, the people of Vanuatu speak over 100 languages across the roughly 65 inhabited islands, making it the most linguistically diverse country in the world.

Fatfat

One of the cultural differences in Vanuatu that I don't think I'm going to be able to get used to is the lack of body consciousness, or at least the lack of stigma in talking about it. Let me play out a scene for you:

Hands clasped on top of my head, elbows splayed to the outside, I breathe heavily. I've just finished a sprint workout on the soccer field near my house, and look over with a smile at two friends as they walk by.
"Yu stap ronron fram se yu fatfat bitim before?" ("You're running because you've been getting fatter?") Surprised, and rather taken back by the comment, with a smile that's now a little forced, I get defensive.
"No, mi stap ron fram se bae mi plei lo wan tournament." ("No, I'm running because I'm getting in shape for a tournament.")
"Ah, mi ting se bae yu mas ronron lo moning tu so bae bel blo yu i go daon." ("Oh, well, you should probably go running in the mornings too, so you get skinnier.") Keeping on the fake smile, I joke with them about how I don't like waking up that early in the morning.

In Vanuatu, if people can joke with you about your weight, it means they feel comfortable around you. Calling people fat here is not a bad thing. There's none of the inherent fat-shaming that exists in the US; just good natured ribbing among friends. While I intellectually understand that this shows I'm integrating well into my community, I still cringe a little every time. Just one of those American things that are hard to let go of, eh?

Mared blo Godwin

The three couples, getting ready to say their vows. The groom we came with, Godwin, is in the middle.

Setting off down the road, I was excited. I was on my way to my first Vanuatu mared (wedding)! Sitting in the back of the Provincial truck, holding on to the sides, with the groom (the handyman at my work, Godwin) sitting next to me, there was a definite air of excitement. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was out, Maewo and Pentecost clear and gorgeous on the horizon…it was going to be a good day.

Running Faol and Shooting Pijins

Walking up to my family’s bush kitchen, I heard the familiar question: “Yu sik smol?” One thing my host family and I are still working on is learning that I like having time to myself in my house: to read, watch movies, listen to music…and it doesn’t mean that I’m sick or don’t want to spend time with them. Alone time is not much of a concept here, but it’s something I insist on doing, for the sake of my sanity. “No, mi jas bin rid smol lo haos blo mi” (No, I was just reading in my house).

Cell service

Check the phone. EMERGENCY. No Digicel today, I guess. Gotta call them, gotta pass on the message. Check the phone. EMERGENCY. Maybe try a text? Type it out. Press send. Sim 2. Digicel. Wait. Wait. Wait. Message not sent, saved to outbox. Darn it.  Put down phone. Read the book. Check the phone. EMERGENCY. Gotta pass on the message. Go to outbox. Press send. Sim 1. TVL. Message sent, saved in sent messages. That’s one way. Put down phone. Read book. Check the phone. Digicel. Signal! Try a call. Wait. Wait. Wait. Call cannot connect. Grumble. Put down phone. Read book. Check the phone. Digicel, and a bar! Try a call. Wait. Wait. Call forwarding on! Straight to voicemail. Darn. Try a different number. Wait. Wait. Call forwarding on! Straight to voicemail. Give up. Put down phone. Read book. Worry. Read book. Worry. Check phone. EMERGENCY. Put down phone. Read book. Worry. Repeat. Look up. Friends! No call needed.

The World Cup

When reading books or watching TV, I often find myself transported to another world, another idea, another reality. Watching the finals of the Womens World Cup today, I forgot for a little while, that I was in Vanuatu. But then I’d look out the concrete door frame and see my family’s bush kitchen, the extra tin propped up against the side to keep out the wind; see the chickens pecking away, unfettered, in the grass; hear the laughter and conversations of the women by the fire. And back to the TV, back to my nostalgia of a game not played in far too long. But then I’d listen to the announcers on TV, commenting on the game in French, and after a disorienting moment, I’d be thinking in French. Thinking of my classes at Carleton; thinking of watching Tim Rake act out a scene for us; thinking of our 8^th grade trip to France, and my host family there. And back to the TV, back to the newfound sense of patriotism I feel now that I live so far away. But then Tony would say “Be Japan bae i win! US emi no tuf. Japan emi nambawan.” And my head would spin for a second, attempting to reorient myself to Bislama, before uttering some underwhelming retort. The constant spinning, jarring, reorientation to my surroundings. The forgetting, the remembering, the thoughts of home, the thoughts of friends and places I wouldn’t see for so long, and the reminders of the place that is my home for this time…for me, the World Cup today was more than just a soccer game. It really was a world-wide experience.