"You know me?" Ohh.....You mean tsuNAMi !

Early today a 7.6 magnitude earthquake occurred off the Solomon islands which is near Vanuatu. An urgent tsunami advisory was issued for the island of Efate, Vanuatu where we are currently staying for a few days, in transit to the islands of New Caledonia for 2 weeks vacation. I immediately had the girls change into their bathing suits in order to prepare. You know me, always thinking.

We have just learned that the warning has now been lifted after minimal wave activity. Still, the period of uncertainty was long enough for us to have the experience the feelings of a possible impending natural disaster. So far I can count cyclone, tsunami and volcanic eruptions, as well as dengue fever plague among the possible experiences that I have chosen to expose my children to in order to broaden their horizons. If you let me count the small skin sores that seem to take forever to heal as a "pox", then things are starting to sound very Old Testament. Perhaps we'll have to contend with locusts next.

At any rate, I just wanted to let people back home know that all is well with us, in case they might have heard about the earthquake. We leave for New Caledonia on Monday which is French ruled and very modern, to enjoy some good coffee, pastries and wine for 2 weeks before heading back to Tanna.


Lukem you,

Sean

Joe Schmo and The End of the World

He shifted in his seat as he leaned to one side. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a knowing smile. He chuckled a bit and spoke. When he was finished I mulled over his words. “The end of the world” he had said. Perhaps it was, and ultimately nobody had brought me to this point but myself. How exactly did this all happen again?

                                                   .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

 Vanuatu lies in the South Pacific Ocean, northeast of Australia between New Caledonia and Fiji. Tanna is one of the southernmost of Vanuatu’s islands and is considered one of the more remote and undeveloped places in the country. The population of 29 000 people inhabit an area of 565 square kilometers. Within its shores, things are a little different. Strange things have a way of happening here. It seems they always have.  

 

Missionaries arrived in the 1830’s intent on converting the heathens. At first, they were promptly eaten by the heathens.  Cannibalistic killings persisted until 1969.

 

John Frum was said to have walked out of the sea in 1936 and he was recognised as the brother of the god of Mt. Tukosmera. Just who he actually was is not really known. Many theories suggest he was an American military officer and that he may have originally called himself John from America. At any rate, he presented himself to the people of Tanna as a messiah and promised that wealth would come to them on a big cargo ship once all the Europeans were ousted and people returned to their traditional ways. His message spread across the island. Years later when many went to the larger towns on other islands to work for the US Navy, they were befriended by African-American navy sailors who often shared their consumer goods with the Tannese. They came to believe these goods were the wealth that John Frum had promised and became enamoured of all things American. The cargo cult was born.

 

The John Frum cult is in fact the sole survivor of many similar cults that were present around that time. Most were based on similar circumstances and beliefs. Essentially, some guy shows up and proclaims himself to be a god, promising that riches will come if people do what he says.

 

You would think that the John Frum cult would be on the decline but in fact its popularity is rising on Tanna, and we recently got a close up look. It began when we happened to be at the airport, dropping someone off. After the plane landed, an entourage disembarked. There were a few guys taking pictures and filming. The central figure was one very clean, very white, very American, chubby middle aged man. He seemed awkward, like that guidance counsellor from high school that you knew would be doing the same job, in the same tie his whole career.

 

From a truck in the parking lot emerged an older Tannese man whose frail, stooped frame was clothed in, what would best be described as a thrift store naval officer Halloween costume. He had his own entourage in tow and a meeting of the entourages ensued.

 

It turns out that this all had to do with a John Frum celebration happening the next day. The Tannese fellow was the local leader and who exactly the white guy was, was unclear. Perhaps a diplomat or dignitary sent as a courtesy by the US government? The celebrations were planned for the following day in a village on the east coast near the volcano. We would be there.

 

The hour drive saw the most pedestrians along the road that I had ever encountered. We offered a ride in the back of the truck to a few, but somehow wound up taking somebody’s whole family. Anna and Sasha were intent on breaking the previous record for most people in the truck (13) set by the last ViVa doctor so we piled on a few more and were at 16 by the time we reached our destination. We were feeling pretty smug until another truck pulled up near us and 21 young men piled out. Darn locals.

 

The village was crowded with a few hundred people. The central clearing was used for dances celebrating John Frum. Each performance was done by a separate village. Dancers wore mainly traditional attire but were adorned with bright tinsel lays and American paraphernalia.  Dances were interspersed with re-enactments of US military battles. A huge U.S. flag waved above it all. Set on a higher hill above all this was an area for VIP’s to sit, and smack dab in the middle of them was the chubby white guy from the airport.

 

The dances were entertaining at first, but there is only so much one can do with tinsel and a few dance steps. At the 90 minute mark of what would be a 6 hour tinsel extravaganza we decided to stretch our legs and poke around the village for a bit before heading home. We met up with 2 journalists from the UK who had come to cover the day’s celebrations. By chance they had managed to interview the chubby American. It turns out that he was neither dignitary, nor diplomat. He was in fact some Joe Schmo from middle America who was now on his third trip to Tanna, with the aim of establishing himself as an important, perhaps magical figure to the Frum cult. He had had no prior connection to any of this, but decided one day after hearing about the cult to remake himself on this out of the way island. On that first trip he had brought along a flame retardant suit with the intention of demonstrating his magical powers by surviving setting himself on fire. When he actually got here and realized how vulnerable the members of the cult were he felt that the suit stunt would be too opportunistic and shelved the idea. Instead he brings thousands of dollars of stuff like key chains with his face on them to give out. I suppose he must be unaware that virtually nobody here has a key of any sort. It was pretty easy to imagine him in 1936 establishing himself as the brother of the god of Mt. Tukosmera.

 

Another curiosity of the island is the cult of Prince Phillip. That’s right, Prince Phillip. There are a few tribes in the bush that worship him, believing that he is their emissary in the west who is working behind the scenes to keep western influence out of their deeply traditional village life. These are the villages where you see people in grass skirts and penis sheaths. They adhere to strict traditional, or “kastom’’ rules. They hold strong beliefs in black magic, ghosts, witch doctors and potions, the most popular of which is apparently one that when used by the patient, causes the person of their choice to fall in love with them. Some things are universal I guess.

 

As best I can establish, at one point in the 1970’s or 1980’s, Prince Phillip actually sailed past Tanna on his way somewhere else. Kastom legend had prophesized that the people’s saviour would be white, married to a powerful woman, and a sorcerer. I guess the people must have also revered the singer Meatloaf, and figured that “two out of three ‘aint bad.” The worship carries on to this day.

 

A few years ago a documentary called “Meet the Natives” chronicled the journey of a few of these villagers to the UK to actually meet with Prince Phillip. After their long journey, after all those years of worship, when they were finally granted an audience with this man who performed powerful sorcery and kept the western world at bay, what did they say to him? They were under strict orders from their supreme chief to ask only one question…….”When will the papayas be ripe at home?”

 It’s not hard to see how for many, John Frums and Joe Schmos alike,  Tanna represents something pretty darn hard to find- a chance to completely re-invent one’s self, and to do so in a way far outside most of the norms that we know.

 

I came here as a physician. Not so far outside my norms, but the work I would have to do certainly would be. Being the sole doctor (aside from my wife) for the island seemed to be a huge stretch from what I did at home in Victoria. Andrea and I debated for a long time before committing.  Do we have enough skills? Would we be putting the kids at risk? Are we hardy enough? How would we hold up that first time when the shit hits the fan? Time would tell.

 

                                                  .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

When we returned to town after our John Frum celebration day, the truck was almost completely out of gas. Previously, I had only put in small amounts at a time, but never a full tank. When I got the bill I almost fell out of my penis sheath. “One hundred and eighty bucks?!?” I gasped. I paid, and then wandered down the street to go to the market. I happened to meet up with an older local guy I knew. I took the opportunity to ask him about the enormous gas bill. Was this correct? Was I being fleeced? How could this be right? As I stood in the middle of the busy, dust filled market, surrounded by strange food, strange sights, missionaries of all stripes, John Frums and Joe Schmos, Prince Phillip worship, black magic and love potions, he nodded that it was indeed correct. He shifted in his seat as he leaned to one side. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a knowing smile. He chuckled a bit and said, “You’re at the end of the world here my friend”.  He was right.

 

Over the years I have had occasion to take some people rock climbing for their first time. Often when one novice was climbing and maybe getting a little scared, their friend would call out to them, “Don’t look down!” I would counter with my own advice and yell, “No, look down, and take it all in! That’s why you’re here!” 

 

As it turns out, we’re doing just fine here at the end of the world. Life on this strange island suits us. I haven’t promised any cargo ship of riches yet, but I am most definitely looking down, and taking in every last damn bit.

 

Sean

 

 

 

 

 




 
 

 The local john Frum leader and Joe Schmo

 
The tinsel estravaganza

 
John Frum Day Celebrations
 
 
 
 

 

The Prince Phillip worshippers of Yakel Village

Meerkat Manor

Just a quick note to let people know that we are all fine here after cyclone Lusi's passing. The winds never got as bad again as when I decided to board up all the windows earlier in the day. The following morning saw all the staff on hospital hill poking their heads out of their homes like meerkats to find that little damage had been sustained to the area. There were no significant problems at the hospital. The X-ray machine is broken again, but that's unrelated.

I gather from the weather reports that Lusi just barely missed Tanna so we were quite lucky in the end. Unfortunately all the rain is going to be bad for our emerging dengue fever problem, a disease that is transmitted by mosquitoes. Nine hundred cases in Vila over the last 2 months. Now 8 cases here at our hospital.

The mosquito that transmits dengue is active in the early morning and late afternoon. It transmits the virus from an infected patient to a new host by biting them in sequence. In other words, if you want to contract dengue, be a doctor doing morning rounds on dengue patients. Yeeesh.


Sean

Lusi's in the Sky

Well, after today I guess I can now add cyclone preparation to my quiver of skills. Hopefully in 24 hrs I will be able to relabel it as "SUCCESSFUL cyclone preparation". Cyclone Lusi is nearby tonight. The center is over Efate province which is north of us. It is forecasted to move southeast and away from us over tomorrow but anything can happen. We were initially forecasted to have gale force winds but it has since been downgraded a bit. There is still an advisory to do full cyclone preparation.

I've often used the term "batten down the hatches" to refer to anything from starting to get drunk, to passing gas. Today was the first time I actually had to do it for real. I know it's a nautical term but....close enough. Of course the wind started to die down just as soon as I finished, but it's picking up again now.  I have that strange ambivalence where I don't actually want a cyclone, but I don't want to have wasted all the time and energy it took to get ready for one either. Weird.

Anyway, I wasn't sure if Lusi was making news back home and had some people concerned. Also, power and internet might go down for a bit so we might be out of contact for a while.

Thanks to everyone for all the greetings and well wishes on my birthday.

Talk to you on the other side.

Sean









OK, so...... maybe I went a little overboard getting the kids ready.

The Banyan Tree

March 08, 2014

My children make fun of my feet. It’s a fact. Mainly it’s my toes, though the whole package seems worthy of ridicule. I have hairy toes and they find it repulsive. It’s not at the X-Men mutant level, but I’ll admit it’s not easily dismissed either. The main reason for their scorn though, is the presence of what’s known as Morton’s toe. Morton’s toe is a genetic condition in which one’s second toe is longer than their big toe, and I’ve got it big time. This is one of those things that you can totally blame on your parents. As far as conditions go though, it’s pretty benign, especially to those without children.

 

We often don’t think much about our feet but when one really considers what we require of them, their anatomy and biomechanics are quite remarkable.  For example, I have seen it estimated that there are almost 7200 nerve endings in the human foot, and probably more for those with a fetish.

 

I have occasionally wondered about the possible evolutionary origins of both of these adaptations. Today, I am doing so again, but with a more vested interest. As I stare at my feet and ponder, the answer seems clear because my feet are delicately supporting my 180 lbs while balanced precariously 50 feet off the ground, on a limb of the world’s largest banyan tree. While the claim to being the world’s largest tree may be arguable, its impressiveness is not.

 

A banyan tree is a remarkable thing. It starts its life when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree. The seeds are small, and most banyans grow in forests, so that a plant germinating from a seed that lands on the ground is unlikely to survive. However, many seeds land on branches and stems of other trees. When those seeds germinate they send roots down towards the ground, and may envelop part of the host tree. Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. Old trees can spread out laterally, using these prop roots to cover a wide area. In some species the effect is for the props to develop into a sort of forest covering a considerable area, every trunk connected directly or indirectly to the central trunk. Think of the tree that the natives lived in from the movie Avatar, but on a much smaller scale, and you will have a pretty good idea.    

 

This banyan lies about 10 km outside of the main town here on Tanna island. To reach it you have to drive about 4 km into the bush off the main road. You drive through some beautiful villages and open spaces, and on this late afternoon the softening light is particularly gorgeous. As has become her habit on most back roads, Sasha asks to sit on the ledge created by putting down her backseat window, such that her legs are inside and her head and torso out. She loves this. Anna is starting to join in too. They wave at almost everyone we pass. We have lost any reservation we initially had for this. People here commonly carry a very large machete when walking, even 4 year olds. This tends to give westerners a bit of a pause, however we soon learned to ignore this as they inevitably break out into megawatt smiles and wave enthusiastically whenever we say hello, or especially whenever we offer them a ride. I’ve taken to sometimes carrying a bush knife myself when walking around, just to fit in. The effect is even better when I wear my sarong too.

 

Today is a public holiday known as Chief’s Day, in honor of all the tribal chiefs on the island. The Chiefs’ rule is part of what is known as kustom. This refers to all aspects of traditional village life on Tanna, from the food they eat, to the dress they wear. For some, its influence is more moderate. For others, especially in the bush villages, it’s quite strong, the traditional male garb of the namba penis sheath being a glaring example of this. The society is very male dominated. The man rules, and the chief rules everybody. Disputes are usually settled at this level as well and the formal police and justice system are used less, especially for more minor issues. I have been told about a special ceremony that happens every few years where many villages will coordinate to allow people to wander from one to the other for the purpose of discussing and resolving disputes. A ceremony on the last night, closed to all outsiders, is basically a big party that permits you to (consensually) fornicate with anyone without repercussion. In the morning, it’s back to life as usual. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

 

When we arrive near the tree there are a few guys hanging around after having gone to the day’s celebrations earlier. One of them is of course related to someone we already know at the hospital, a common occurrence here. Having established the connection, he is only too happy to show us to the tree. This is one of the best things about being the “dokta” here. Physicians before us have referred to it as having ‘the golden ticket’. Most people on the island know about the doktas that come from Canada and this opens up many doors to see and do things that your average tourist would be hard pressed to arrange. As far as I know, no doctor has yet been to the fornication ceremony, or at least none have admitted to it.

 

The tree is massive. At first you think it is 6 or 8 different trees and then realize that it is in fact just one big one. The prop roots are everywhere, sprawling and interconnecting. I don’t know how anyone can look at this thing and not want to climb it. Our friend says it’s OK to do so and that’s all I need to hear. 

 

It’s so fun. It’s the world’s biggest jungle gym. You couldn’t intentionally design a better one. I wind my way through the web of branches and roots to the highest reasonable point. It’s pretty safe. There are handholds everywhere except for a few short sections where I have to balance without them. The limbs to stand on for these sections are pretty wide, but nothing is ever quite so easy when you are 50 feet off the deck, and you realize that you yourself comprise a large part of the available medical care in the event of a fall.

 

I watch Sasha clambering over the lower roots. Lately she has taken to climbing anything interesting she finds and usually asks me to come along in case she needs help. None is needed today. She is a natural climber. I’ve often thought that the phrase ‘learning to climb’ is a misnomer. It is really more a process of unlearning  all these other movements that rule modern life and letting your body and brain remember what they already know how to do. Watching kids like Sasha climb proves this to me every time. I think of the 7200 nerve endings in each of her feet. She has a slight case of Morton’s toe.

 

Some have said humans are born to run. I think we were born to climb.

 

We drive back through the bush in the waning light. Andrea looks quiet and relaxed. The kids are hanging out the side of the truck, silently taking it all in. We give a ride to a couple that are carrying a big load of plantains back to their village. When we drop them off they insist on giving us some. He uses his big bush knife to cut them off. I see his huge smile in my rearview mirror as I drive off.

 

In 2 days I turn 46 years old.

 

I just climbed the world’s biggest banyan tree today.

 

Cool.

 

 

 

Sean

 

 

 

 

the banyan tree

 

 

                                              Port Resolution Dispensary visit

                                             Our house

                                             The Hospital (from our front yard)

                                              The traditional dish of lap lap

                                              Sasha

                                             Anna

 



 

                                              The volcano, Mt. Yassur

 
                                                        The nesting tree of the "flying foxes"




 

 

 

The Ash Plain

I'm driving a pick up truck. MY pick up truck.Technically it belongs to the VIVA project, but for the next 6 months it's mine. I'm starting to REALLY like pick up trucks. It's new(ish). It's silver. It has a full cab and payload and it can go alost anywhere, and believe me, Tanna roads have tested it. There is almost no pavement on the island aside from a few stretches of less than 100m at the steepest parts of a few hills, and the one and only parking lot at the airport which everyone eschews for the lack of shade anyway, preferring instead to park outside the grounds for some cover under the trees. 

I have never driven on anything even close to the conditions on these roads. In fact for the first few days I had this kind of resistance to driving at all, just because of the mental effort required to navigate the constant stream of deep ruts and bumps that were coming at me endlessly, like some weird Tetris game. You get used to it pretty quick though. Still, some of the backroads are completely nuts. Oh well, in this male dominated society, driving is a guy's job so I'd better man up.

Anyway, on this particular day I am driving us to visit an outpost dispensary on the east side of the island. These places service areas of the island that are too remote for the people to journey to hospital from unless it's serious. One has to pass by the volcano to get there. Mt. Yassur is the most accessible active volcano in the world. Whenever people hear this fact they inevitably ooh and aww, but then I think,"wait a minute...shouldn't an active volcano close by actually be a bad thing?"

It's not every day that a man gets to buzz his truck along the ash plain of an active volcano, throwing up rooster tails and hanging his head out the window as he speeds by. There is no speed limit or regulations so technically i can't be "speeding" can I? This lack of regulation applies to so many aspects of life here, from letting you kids hang out the windows of the moving truck, to performing medical procedures that you have never done before, but circumstances demand they be performed. Coming from politically correct Victoria, it's such a breath of fresh air. The downside of course, is that people can get significantly hurt doing such things. I'm chalking it all up to practicing "risk management skills".

The previous post tells the story of our climb up the spine of the Mt. Yassur, and of Sasha's quote of the week, which brought a tear to my eye, so I won't repeat.

Anyway, driving across the ash plain was 'a moment'. One of those when you suddenly get perspective on where you really are and what you are really doing.

Did I mention that I love my truck........?

Sean

Sasha vs the Volcano

Mar 1^nd, 2014

 

First off….a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my sister Kaaren.  Hope you are having a great day and being deservedly spoiled.  Also, birthday wishes to Connor Cruz in Stewiacke, NS (half way between the north pole and the equator if anybody's interested).

 

We have had quite a week.  Although the medical aspect of things continues to be fascinating and always challenging, it was the most recent “excursions” that have really given us great insight into the kindness and generosity of the people here and the incredible beauty to be found.

 

We had planned to do a dispensary visit to a place called Lamlu.  It is about a 40 minute drive into the centre of Tanna.  When we arrived, we were told that the woman who runs the health unit has been away for 2-3 weeks and that the dispensary has been closed. With a little extra time on our hands, we visited the nearby school and were treated to the kindergarten class performing an impromptu singing session.   It was very sweet.

 

We carried on driving to a good surfing beach on the West coast of Northern Tanna called Louneal Beach.  We had to acquire permission from a local family to access the road that heads to  the beach.   A group of young men opened the gate for us and after a short drive, we hiked down to this incredibly beautiful beach.  The locals came over to us and showed us the hidden features of the beach including a protected area of water that formed this natural pool.  Anna and Sasha just loved this and we played for hours.  The next beach over was completed deserted and stretched for miles.  It is absolutely perfect for boogie boarding and paddle board surfing and will definitely require a return visit.  As we were wrapping up, this same group of young adults brought us all cocunuts that had been opened and readied to drink the coconut water within.  It tasted so good.  Somehow it didn’t seem quite the same, but we offered them some cookies and they seemed to appreciate this.  We hiked back up to the gate and were again greeted by this group who placed several papayas in the car for us to take with us.  We also had the opportunity to meet with the Chief’s son,  Joseph.  He immediately invited us to see the waterfall that is on his property.  We walked down this steep series of switch backs,  all the while thinking how are we going to get back up this thing.  At the bottom was this beautiful 100 foot waterfall cascading down the cliff.  The pools were cold and clean and we all jumped in with all our clothes on.  You could swim right to the edge of the surprisingly powerful falls and experience the full force of the water.  It really was very exciting.

We all hiked back up and we were sent on our way with hot laplap (traditional meal of island cabbage and manioc) that his family had cooked inside a bamboo shoot over the fire.  It was quite a day.

 

Yesterday afternoon was the first time we had gone to see the flying foxes.  They are very large bats that reside in these huge colonies in a particular banyan tree in the forest.  Father Aniset, a catholic priest who runs a school and a church nearby, has been showing visitors the foxes for several years.  He is a very kind man and was very excited to take us to see them.  I can only say that it was awesome.  We walked through the dense forest for only 10 minutes and came out into a clearing.  When we looked up, the entire canopy of this enormous banyan tree was covered by suspended bats.  Any disruption sends several of the bats into flight, circling the tree and then landing again on a different branch.  There was a constant circulation of bats relocating on the canopy.  Their wingspan is about 2 feet so you can imagine how impressive this looks.  We moved around to various sites to appreciate the different views of the colony and it truly was amazing. 

 

We have not seen the volcano yet at nighttime, which is when you really want to view the lava bubbling in the crater.  We did however climb the “spine” of the volcano 2 weeks ago when we were returning from a dispensary visit. We had stopped near the bottom of this ridge that leads right up to the top of the volcano.  One of the nurses with us, Johnny, decided it would be fun to “jog” up the ridge.  Anna and Sasha thought that was hilarious and started chasing him, only to pass him and keep going.  Sean and I were close behind and by the time everyone stopped the chase, we realized we were already half way up.  We continued climbing, in our bare feet, which was surprisingly comfortable.  The ash sand is very soft and we all described it as though you were walking through cushions.  As we approached the top,  the tone of the hike changed considerably.  The erupting volcano became really loud and you could feel the earth shake with each eruption.  This was happening every 3-4 minutes.  We were high enough now that the ash cloud was coming directly at us. It really stings the eyes if you look up, so we were all staring down at the ground as we ascended.  The smell of sulphur becomes quite intense by the top.  At this point the girls started questioning the wisdom of our decision but we were so close to the top, it was really hard to abort mission.  That is when the rain started and we were being pelted by heavy acid rain.  Naturally you would think that this was the time we turned around but that would just be wrong…. we were so close.

Sasha was initially enthusiastic for the first half, always wanting to be out in front of the group, but then things went bad a bit. The rain, the blowing sand in her eyes, took the good out of her. Complaints and whining followed for a while, and then she gave us the quote of the week. Sean was climbing with her and kept telling her that she could go down and wait but she just kept ignoring him and pushing on, still whining. Finally he said, “Sash, if it’s so bad then why don’t you just go down?” She replied with a mixture of bewilderment and anguish saying, “I don’t know Dad!! I just CAN’T”. ‘Atta girl.

 

We all pushed on and reached the edge of the crater.  You couldn’t see anything because of the winds carrying the ash cloud and the rain directly into our faces.  We all turned around and just ran down the spine laughing all the way down.  You could take one big step and travel 10 feet because the landing was so soft, and then the sand underfoot would just slide with you.  It must have been a ridiculous site from the bottom as 6 people were running down the side of the volcano flapping their wings and giggling.  By the time we got to the bottom, we had ash/sand in ALL the wrong places and our clothes were completely grey.  They remain this colour, and every time we wear them, the stains  serve as a reminder of our big adventure up the volcano.

 

Bed time.  Talk soon.

 

Andrea (Sean helped too)