Kennedy and Ghizo, Solomon Islands

This morning we come to an atoll configuration, with several reefs ringing several islands. One of these islands is now known as Kennedy Island, because this is where the young John F. Kennedy and his crew clung to life after the destruction of their ship, the PT-109.  In fact, he and his crew members first wrecked up on another island, which had no water, and no shade. After some time there, they realized they could get to this 'perfect' island, with a shaded interior of tall trees, and most importantly, water. The sailors on board, told us, however, that there was some difficulty in the swim, because, the narrow neck of the channel between the reefs causes strong tidal surges. If you mis-time your swim, you could be swept out to open sea. I wonder if all the crew men were swimmers, or some had to be dragged by their crew mates.

We spent the morning on this island, which is so tiny, you can literally swim around it in about 15 minutes. The interior is lovely and shaded, and I had the good luck to see a large red parrot. 

Honiara, Solomon Islands

A crowded, dirty port. We wait a long time for a berth...lots of dangerously overloaded ferries and decrepit tanker type ships are all vying for space. Many have folks on them with their fruits, vegetables, and fish for market...they have tarps draped all over the rigging to make shade from the hot sun. 

We disembark, and board a bus which takes us to Bloody Ridge, where young American, Australian, and New Zealand servicemen gave their lives while trying to keep the Japanese from the nearby Henderson Airfield. This, now lovely area overlooking grassy hills and a beautiful wide river, was once the site of ongoing battles to gain and lose land, by inches, literally. What marks the spot is a shabby cement "memorial", lounged upon by three young local children.

We then go to Henderson, where you can still see the original wooden 'conning' tower built by the U.S. Marines. The airport is now used for regular air travel. Nearby is a memorial garden commemorating those who gave their lives...this is where I realized so many of the soldiers were from Australia and New Zealand as well as the U.S. The garden is shaded, quiet, somber. There are many small crosses...some for individuals, some for entire units.

On the way back to the ship, we stop at the local market. There are booths and booths, and tables, of fruit, the ubiquitous betel nut, and all kinds of fish. It is packed and has to swivel one's way through the mass of people. Like every day so far, it is pouring rain, and people have pushed themselves against the walls so they are under shelter. I am looking at an array of small, bulbous, shapes that look sort of like sea urchins without the spines, when I realize they are crabs, that have had their legs torn off! Whether this is to keep them from running away, or in order to sell the bodies and legs separately, I don't know. They are arranged quite artistically, in pyramidal shapes.

I am sad today, just thinking about all those barely trained young men who got sent into an alien landscape of extreme discomfort, and were killed.


As I did not bring my good camera on this trip, I would like to send you to Zegrahm's official blog of this trip. The expedition staff are all accomplished photographers, and you will see the images I would like you to see here. 
www.zeco.com/travelreports

Port Mary, Santa Ana Island, Solomon Islands

A strange, fantastical creature is cavorting in the water at the edge of the beach...he is arrayed in a short banana-leaf skirt, and has a crown of banana leaves. He kicks his knees up high and leaps...he is like a seahorse come to life. He blows a trumpeting call through the large conch shell he carries...and laughs, like Puck. He is joy incarnate.

As our dinghy comes to shore, the children rush out to "attack" us with their miniature spears. So I wonder, is the laughing seahorse god the seductive enticement to enter the palisade? And then the "guests" are eaten? I never receive an answer to this....but I feel the truth of it. Although the ceremonial greeting may be out-of-date in these times, I suspect it had its uses in times past. 

Santa Ana is densely wooded, and Port Mary is a charming village carved out of the woods, with each home having large gardens. We walk into the open central square, and people have put up tables and mats to show their handicrafts. There are gorgeous bone fish hooks, and elaborate fishing floats, and tiny replicas of outrigger canoes. The large church building is next to the small bar. All the buildings are made of woven leaves and have dirt floors. The gardens are organized, and full of produce.

We even finally see the elusive megapode, a black chicken with big feet. One of our shipmates brings back a megapode egg, which the chef cooks for him for breakfast. It is about the size of a goose egg, and is about 98% yolk, with a thin white rim. The megapode bird uses a heat source other than its own body to incubate it's eggs. It creates a compost heap to hold the eggs during the incubation period - it has a sensitive gland at the base of its head which detects temperature, so it sticks its head into the compost heap to check if the temperature is correct. Isn't nature amazing?

We walk a path to a large cleared circle, where the villagers will gift us with their dances. They have arrayed benches and flower-garlanded arches for seating. As in every village we have visited, the dance and singing styles are unique. Three elders keep the music going, with a variety of sustained tonal notes, not exactly harmonious, yet arresting.  The women create a very quiet, very soft dance which honors the yam, and the harvest of the yam. They have an element to their costume which I have not seen before, which is strung shells worn bandolier style, criss-crossing their chests. I very much would like to have some of these decorations, but they are not for sale - they are part of family wealth and only to be passed along from generation to generation. They are wonderful.

The men approach from a distance away, out of the woods, and dance for a long time, in uniform rows and columns, their grass skirts swaying over their modern shorts.  

Sorry, I have no still pictures, and the videos of the dancing will not upload. Apologies.

Day 8 on the Clipper Odyssey, 28 November 2010

Espiritu Santo Island, Vanuatu

Vanuatu, formerly known as the New Hebrides, means "our land". Vanuatu has three official languages - Bislama, English, and French. Bislama is a type of Pidgin English spoken by over 70 % of the population.
Espiritu Santo is the largest island in the chain. This island has 49 species of orchid, and the richest bird fauna, with 55 species including all 7 of the country's endemics.
The nearest neighbor to the Vanuatu chain of islands is the Solomon Islands, 170 kilometers to the north.

Today we visit Nekar Village in Espiritu Santo. A lovely woman, dressed in a reed outfit, greets us. Soon, we hear the 'ominous' tock-tock of a slit-gong drum, and muted war cries - the men and boys jump out at us from the vegetation, carrying spears. Their laughing faces belie any threat, and we visitors good-naturedly play our part by responding with cries of horror and fear. 

We enter the village through a receiving line of the warriors. Inside, the women greet us. I go immediately into the store (a dirt-floored open-walled hut) because I am trying to find a good example of the seed pod ankle bracelets used in dancing. I find them, and make friends with Cecilia. It turns out we are almost the same age - she is 56, I am 54.  Her mother is with her; also her sister, daughter, and grand-children. I am struck by this in most of the villages we visit - most of the population is definitely related, and everyone does everything together, so the children are inculcated into the culture almost by osmosis. So different from our American culture, where the children are shunted off to school and activities separate from the parents, and our houses have separate rooms for each activity, and for the people who live in the house. Most of the huts we see here have one room for everyone, and everything.

The villagers urge us to sit on benches, shaded by a thatch roof. They treat us to a men's dance - again the warriors approaching slowly, silently, out of the vegetation; spears raised, black charcoal on their faces, some wearing coconut hats with the reddish fiber mimicking hair and obscuring their faces. One man holds a leaf in his mouth - later we learn he represents the dead, who cannot speak, but are still with us. All the men and boys dance together - again the unison of the dancers to the beat makes the ground shake. It is marvelous choreography.

Then the women dance, and it is very circular. The oldest woman stands in the middle and makes an amazing noise - a sustained note, very low, very deep, very ancient. The other women circle and protect her, and then begin to dance. The youngest toddlers, finding the movement too slow, run quickly around the perimeter of the circle. These are beautiful people, and several in this village have blond hair. One of our anthropologists has told us this is simply a local genetic trait, and has nothing to do with any European genes.

Then we are invited to see a very special dance. We walk to a rectangular pool of water, set in the trees. About ten of the women are in the water, and proceed to make several dances with their hands, the water, clapping, and the sound of the hands hitting the water. It is unique, and we don't see anything like this anywhere else. I forgot to say that, unlike the woman who greeted us, most of the women are wearing costumes made out of banana leaves. I note that these do not fall apart in the water. The ubiquitous banana leaf is used for clothing, shelter, and food.

Then we are invited into the "bar", a leaf hut with a real bar and benches. A man is making kava, what I have come to learn is the national drink. It is made from a particular grain mixed with water. People drink it all day long, and it is supposed to give you energy, while making your lips numb. I have been told it tastes like dirty dishwater, so have not tried it yet. Today though, our anthropologist, Mike, says this village is known for the quality of its kava, so I try it. It's tasty, kind of like non-alcoholic beer, but it does not make my lips numb. It does other people's though.

While we sit in this hut, my friend Cecilia comes to me with her grand-daughter and gifts me with a lovely sarong in bright coral and orange colors, which has the word "Vanuatu" batiked into it. I feel I must reciprocate, and give her what I have, which is a necklace my daughter made for me years ago, with wonderful African beads and a maroon colored fish. I hate to give this up, as it has special meanings for me, but I feel it is the only thing I have to give which is equal to her gift.

Lovely woman welcomes us to Nekar Village

Everyone dancing together; the women in their banana leaf outfits

The 'scary' male warriors

My lovely friend, Cecilia

And with one of Cecilia's grandchildren

Dancing all together

Day 4 on Clipper Odyssey, 25 November 2010

On Board Lectures

Ocean: from Greek okeanos, "great stream encircling the earth"

Despite its many names, the world ocean is global, continuous, and connected.

The ocean is the source of most rainfall, climate, and wind; life first eveolved in the ocean.

700 out of 800 known coral species are visible in the South Pacific.
Butterfly fish are a good indication of the health of a reef - they feed on coral polyps. Their camouflage is to get dark at night.

"Biodiversity - Micronesia"
"We only protect that which we love.
We only love that which we know.
We only know that which we are taught."

Which places on the planet are still most biodiverse? The Congo, Indonesia, Brazil, Columbia, and Madagascar. These land areas contain two-thirds of ALL the world's primates.

The island continent of Australia contains species that exist nowhere else. It is the only place that has monotremes - egg laying mammals, the platypus and two echidnas.
Madagascar is a land the size of Alaska and Texas combined. It holds one-half of the endemic plants of the world, and 42% of the vertebrate endemics.
Melanesia/Polynesia/Micronesia: All of the islands together equal a land mass the size of Switzerland.
There are NO birds on Guam because of the introduction of the brown tree snake, which came back to Guam in the military equipment sent there after WWII.  By the mid-1970s, all the birds were gone.

The tree that creates the branches that are used to build houses in the villages - Natarungua. Large fibrous leaves, like a palm tree.

There are lots of bats on these islands: Mega Mytropteras with a wing span of 5 feet, 16 inches in length, and weight of 2 pounds. The Flying Fox bat: furry, pretty ears, big eyes, they eat fruit. Flying fox bats are keystone creatures in rain forest environments. There are 60 species of Flying fox bats - only 9 live on continents, the rest live on islands.

Melanesia: the people. There are two distinct groups of peoples who make up the Melanesian population - those who came from Africa to Papua New Guinea 60,000 years ago, and then those sailors who came out of Taiwan only 6,000 years ago. "Papuan" means frizzy-headed.
The language family goes all the way to Madagascar. Papua New Guinea is the second biggest island in the world - it is the size of California.
All people who live here are subsistence farmers - they grow yams, they fish. Material wealth is ephemeral, but you must be rich in trade networks - it is all about your relationships.

Clipper Odyssey in bay at Sawa-i-lau

Children peeking out window of typical hut, Sawa-i-lau village

More children of village

Zodiacs zooming toward shore

Jonathan Rossouw and George Lake, expedition leaders

With thanks to: Jonathan Rossouw, resident renaissance man; Giovanna Fasanelli, marine biologist; Anne Matthews and Will Howarth, Princeton lectureres. Any factual mistakes are the author's own.


Traveling on the Clipper Odyssey, Day 2, November 22, 2010

Rano Island, Vanuatu

Vocabulary: Eris (hello), Ramsam (goodbye to one person), Ramsamay (goodbye to more than one person), Ramsamyo (sweet dreams), Ta (thank you).


Today we are on Rano Island, Vanuatu. The island actually has a pier we climb onto from the zodiacs...prior to this we have been making wet landings on beaches.

The Vanuatuans on this little island have started to create a tourism industry, displaying all the traditional crafts and dance and food preparation. We walk along the beach, looking at the women's craft stands where they show shell necklaces, woven straw bags and mats, ankle bracelets made from large seed pods and worn as part of the traditional dancing costumes, and hand carved replicas of outrigger canoes.

We follow a cleared path that makes a large circle inland, and enter cleared 'forest rooms' where different aspects of the culture are played out for us. We begin with some older men, dancing a public dance, anyone can join in. There is always one person making the tock-tock sound on a drum or tree or piece of wood, to create the beat. All the dancers are adept at dancing in unison - the choreography is sophisticated. The earth reverberates when all the pounding feet land at once.

The women, bare breasted and in woven skirts, come forward in two lines, shaking their feathered sticks, and weaving in and out of the lines. Their ankle bracelets, made from seed pods, create a soft shushing sound that accents the beat. After their dance is finished, we speak with them, and discover that most speak French and are more comfortable in that language then in English. They are charming and friendly and open.

We go to the Boabab tree and watch the sorcerer perform some 'magic' - simple tricks. We see a wall of flat stones, and learn that these are everybody's birth certificates - when a child is born in the village, s/he receives a flat stone and it is added to the wall. When that person dies, his/her stone is given to a relative. So they have birthstones, but not gravestones.

We watch the men dance. There is one dancer who is like a bird...his arms seem to lengthen and grow into wings. This is a powerful dance, with a loud and tuneful music behind it.

We see a woman weaving a mat...her hands and fingers work so quickly, she is like a loom. The older women are preparing a yam mash. After it is baked in the fire, shredded coconut is sprinkled on top... delicious. The coconut industry is their biggest industry...they burn the shells for fuel, they keep the coconut milk, they export the coconut oil to Europe.

In a funny way, this village is like a home grown Disneyland...everything prepared for the tourist, in easy bites. Seen another way, it is interesting to see how these people, on an island far far away, have chosen to present their traditions to foreigners. Our guide told us that the last cannibalistic meal eaten on this island was in 1913...not so long ago! We actually visit the "cannibal's room", and see real human bones in the fire pit. I wonder if they are the actual bones from that last meal, or where exactly did they come from?
Later, as we walk along the shore again, and take pictures of the houses made out of woven reeds, we see everybody has a cell phone. So, while there are clearly still people living, or perhaps just having knowledge of, the traditional life, modern 'civilization' is encroaching. Is there electricity? I don't know. Are there cell phones? Yes. Television? No. Radio? Yes. There are PVC pipes that drain the water down to the beach. Are there pumps? I don't know. The pipes used to be made of bamboo. Is PVC an improvement?

I see a grandmother walking with her toddler grandson along the beach. Every few steps he squats down and releases a turd. She folows behind and kicks the turd into the ocean. Jonathan says that the adage "The solution to pollution is dilution" is correct in this case, as E.Coli is rendered null in a large salt water environment.  Still, seeing this doesn't make me want to snorkel close to shore!

I meet Charles, who insists on giving me one of the beautiful Crown Conch shells. I tell him I have no more money, but he insists. He asks will I bring back a t-shirt for his daughter. I agree.

I go out on a dinghy with a group and Jonathan*, who brings us into small inlets in the bay to see what birds we might see. First we see some Giant Clam shells, which he tells us are disappearing. We see some large fruit bats, soaring from tree to tree. Maybe a Lorikeet as well?

As we travel back to the ship it starts to pour. This is nothing new, as we have been wet since we started in Fiji. It is so endless you can only laugh about it. No one has dry clothes, as they will not dry hanging in your room. Everyone's room and bath are like damp caves. Many times, you just want to swim back, as it might actually be warmer than sitting in the wind on the dinghy.

Jonathan tells us a story from growing up in Zimbabwe (Rhodesia when he was growing up there): He and a friend, both 12 years old, went crocodile snatching out on a river. Jonathan's friend held his legs while he leaned out of the boat and grabbed one, about 5 feet long, around the neck. He dragged it back into the boat, and flipped it upside down, in which position it becomes immobile. So they had the leisure to observe and examine it, before throwing it back into the water...as it flies through the air it starts gnashing again! As he said, 12 years old and incredibly stupid...and fearless!

On board with Olinne, immigration officer of Vanuatu

On island of Rano, Vanuatu

Children displaying local wares

Beauty

Chief (note pig tusk necklace) playing slit-gong drum

Speaking French with the ladies

*Jonathan Rossouw, expedition leader, expert in birds and reptiles, also extremely knowledgeable about mammals and coral reef fishes.

Travelling on the Clipper Odyssey, Day 3, November 24, 2010

Ambryn Island, Vanuatu

Children and Mothers of Ambryn

Ambrym is an island in the archipelago of Vanuatu (formerly known as the New Hebrides). It is well known for its highly active volcanic activity that includes lava lake formation. It is the fifth largest island of this country. Several times per century, Ambrym volcano has destructive eruptions. The summit of the volcano contains a desert-like caldera which covers an area of 100 square kilometres (39 sq mi).

Like many islands in Vanuatu, Ambrym has its own Austronesian languages. In the north is the North Ambrym language, in the southeast is the Southeast Ambrym language, in the south the Dakaka language, and in the west Lonwolwol and in the southwest Port-Vato language. These are all spoken by a few hundred to a few thousand speakers each.  These are some of the few languages in the world into which the Bible has never been translated. I contrast this with the ubiquitous presence of Christian missionaries here, whom many of the islanders resisted; instead continuing in their own animist tradition. Also, in case I haven't mentioned it, this is the area of the world where cannibalism has been extensive, right up until the early 20th century (1930s).

We snorkeled over rich black sand. Lively coral, a spider feeder, a nudibranch, an octopus.  Then I swam to the beach, where there were several hot spots in the water. A 104 degrees Farenheit  river poured into the ocean...muscle soothing, relaxing, floating between hot and cold.

John and I had lunch with Olinne, a customs inspector who had come on board. She is 46 years old, has 5 children, and a high school education. Her daughter is attending the University of the South Pacific, whose main campus is in the main city of Vanuatu. Coincidentally, Olinne comes from a family of seven, 5 girls and 2 boys, just like my family, and her birthday is January 27 (mine is January 21).

After lunch we were invited into a village to observe a male dance. Surrounding the near naked dancers, who wore only penis gourds and some leaves stuck into the back of their belts, were fantastical triangular masked creatures. All the dancers stomped, stomped, stomped in unison, so powerfully that the earth shook.

Rich coral in Ambryn

Nudibranch

Shipmate enjoying the hot spring off the black sand beach

The sacred Rom Dance

Rom costumes made from banana leaves and banana-fiber mask

The story behind the origin of the dance is this: A young girl made the costume and mask to entice the boy she liked. He killed her, stole the costume, shared it with his mates, and created the dance which no women are allowed to dance. How do you like that? Our resident anthropologist explained later that there is a strong division between the female and male realms here, and that the male desire for ritual and secrecy is based on jealousy of what the woman can do - create men!

The whole time we were in this little village, it was pouring rain. The dance was performed in the rain. I might as well have swum back to the boat.