danizwindling

I have to babble! Too excited about my day. Of course as soon as I wrote that last sentence, I got two emails from Air Vanuatu canceling my morning flight, booking me on an afternoon flight then rescheduling that afternoon flight to an early evening flight the following day …. so …. again who knows when I’m going to be able to go to Port Villa or New Caledonia [sad exasperated face momentarily]

But back to exuberance! This morning, I woke up in a treehouse good 20 m up in the air on top of a banyan tree. I’m pretty sure I was dreaming of you when my alarm went on at 2:45 AM. I got dressed in warm clothes and bolted out to climb the Mount Yasur volcano. Again. I got to the top of the double crater, stood on the edge the edge and let it wow me. River of lava bubbling like a stew cauldron, then flying up in blotches and chunks all over the giant rocks and ash mountains – the crater walls desperately trying to contain the fury. hundreds of scarlet red stars bursting out forming interesting dragon shapes in my mind. I love our beautiful planet earth: what a pure coincidence for a fiery ball to form a gorgeous crust and enable all these riches to exist: beautiful soil, sweet air, nurturing water, life, you and me.

An hour into my crater-edge soujurn, the dawn broke behind me softly through the clouds, steam, ash and sulphur. In front of me 2 craters vying for superiority, to my right white-capping Pacific. Above me the wading moon and behind me the blushing sky and finally the top of the sun ball peeking under the layers of crazy shaped clouds. Me and the volcano security guard in white colored braids seem to be experiencing the same awe. But he is imbued in a video game he had recently downloaded. The previous afternoon, i came up to the volcano with a large mass of tourists to watch the night fall. Today just me and the friendly gamer.

Apparently, a few weeks back, Will Smith came to hang at Mount Yasur. And he visited it alone too. That’s just how me and my homy Fresh Prince roll, baby!In fact and according to the reliable sources, Mr. Smith and I both went swimming off the black-sand beach of the Port Resolution bay warmed up during high tide by the many hot springs. In the low tide, the women from the nearby villages come to cook food with the hot springs water.

I got back down to the village by 6 am and the lady of the house, the wonderful Janet, whipped me up a French press of the tastiest coffee: Tanna grown! We sliced my pineapple from the previous-day’s roadside market and she picked me a few bananas in her garden. Happiness galore!We chatted and strolled to the other end of Kwar Manu village to see this sweet play the local kids put together. They call it a Cannibal Tour. What it is really is kids – dressed in straw and banana leaf – playing a game in which they ambush an intruder (in this case me) and pretend-attack them with sticks. Raging cannibal growls, face paint, stern faces, … the works. they ensnare each other to show me how they hunt wild pigs. they jump off trees and pretend to be hurt then wrap themselves in leaves of a bush to show me what they do to heal injuries. They carry the smallest one in the large leaves of another tree. They show me the sign for “do not enter” and a sign for “come right in. Then we go back to playing cannibals. Much running around and intense orders shouted in the local language, it is time to meet the chief. “No cameras, listen to the chief and don’t speak!” Okeydokey. A scrawny old man finally emerges from a hut inside a banyan commanding insaneLy mesmerizing and mesmerized attention and awe. I cannot not stare at him with utmost reverence as he softly greets me then shows me the leaf-wrapped rocks he uses to call for rain, others for sun, yet others for good harvest and for the calm of Mount Yasur. He also explains these torture instruments he uses if a villager disobeys: for instance if a girl doesn’t want to marry the man chosen for her by the chief.Janet translates all of this into English for me. She keeps repeating to me “We are all under Chief.”

Before I leave, the kids and the Chief sing me a beautiful farewell song in English. I weep with joy and honor. The volcanic ash facepaint the kids smeared on me is smudging and looking even more silly on my whitey face.They all shake hands with me. I thank them about million times and i depart for the other side of the island stopping only to pick up some raw peanuts and tiny bananas from a roadside Friday market.

Next stop a very touristy Blue Cave Tour. 10 tourists, 2 people hitching a ride and the skipper – all on a tiny wooden boat with a malfunctioning Yamaha motor. watching the 2 centimeter clearing from the choppy surface, I have visions of the illegal refugee boats leaving Libya for Italy then capsizing a few kilometers later from being overloaded Well our refugee boat made it and we got to watch spinner dolphins on the way to the cave and back. Short freedive through an underwater opening and you are inside a massive cathedral-like cave. big boulders arch up to a circular opening on the ceiling to the top surrounded by trees which seem beloved by butterflies and birds.Occasional bat flies across the cave corners. I howl and the echo comes back crazy sonorous.Loads of fish. I freedive then stare at the sunbeams shooting down through the opening on the tree-covered roof opening. The beams seem to land on a big rock just under the surface on the otherwise sandy and deep bottom. i freedive then stare, freedive then stare. Hundreds of times. Im so enjoying swimming through the fish schools while holding breath. Longer and longer. Pretty soon Im getting the entire length of the cave. Crowds cheer. Actually noone notices. The 2 families with kids are doing their family thing and rejoicing in having successful dived under the cave wall. 2 gay hunks are taking endless photos of their speedo-clad bodies.1.5 hour of freediving and pretending to be a snapper later, I decide to go check out the snorkeling outside of the cave. Minute 2 i spot 2 squid and start following them. They lead me straight to a black-and-white yellow headed seasnake meandering around the sea floor, entering a hole after jole presumably looking for a mid morning snack. I follow her until im summoned back to the refugee raft for our return.

Back at the truck, my driver is now an old fellow named Jimmy who speaks no English. I try a few Pijin words on him but mostly we just nod and smile. The first stop is a giant banyan tree. We pass through a little village and Jimmy honks his horn a few times. A young woman jumps on the back of the truck and we drive on for about 5 minutes. We hop out at a beautifully manicured flower, fruit and veg garden and skip down a winding trail to the most beautiful sight: a 400-year old banyan growing as wide as a football field: many trails wind around and through the giant. Countless roots coming down from the countless branches to form new trunks with their own branches and their own offshoots which, in turn, form new trunks… and each bit is covered in epyphites and creepers and bromiliads. Nature is glorious! This actual tree of life (see Avatar!!!) hosts many bird nests. Butterflies and insects flitter around. Sun finds the most creative ways to sneak through this glorious world.I gush to Nermina (my 25-year old guide whose family owns the land) about the majestic beauty of this extraordinary tree. She joins in.

Next stop: Yakel Villlage.Yakel are a tribe that lives full-on the “kustom” way: they dress in banana-leaf loin cloths and string skirts; they live on and off the land, the ladies are bare-breasted and seated on the ground together weaving baskets, house covers and floor mats. Some are making jewelry, some are also nursing babies; men are in the Nakamal drinking kava: no women allowed; many have spent the morning working in the gardens with mixed crops: sweet potato, yam, taro, kasava, banana, pineapple, various herbs, spices and flowers… The place is full-on tradition. not horribly different from the other tribes I visited yesterday and today; but in the way everyone dresses and commands themselves, it feels like you just stepped back in time… As i was getting ready to depart, i was given a lovely shell necklace. the man of the tribe performed 2 dances and songs. ladies joined in dancing on the edges of the dance circle: jumping and running and swaying…

I had the biggest grin driving back. As we drove through other villages, I waved and greeted kids, moms with babies and men under banyans imbibing kava. I greeted an entire soccer game the players of which likely figured i was demented.

I stayed the night in a small simple modest homestay with Anna and her son. I had my own super lovely bungalow and even a tiny teaspoon of internet. Anna is a brilliant mom of 5. She would be a Sr. Director at a large software company if she had been given a chance to prosper. Instead she married some bonehead right out of college and procreated 5 times. The guy is now living on a different island with some floozy while Anna raises their 5 kids with the help of her Mom. Her sidekick, a minuscule little sweetheart named Judy, made me a delish veg dinner and told me a fun giggly gossip about another lady staying there: an English youngster who went to the volcano and fell in love with her guide. She is now staying extra days on the island enjoying her new bf. Judy and i agreed that it was all adorable and pondered how many earplugs we may need tonight 🤣

I was going to have that be my last sentence but then remembered that you simply must know what I did the day before:

The highlight was obviously the 2 hours on the crater edge of Mt Yasur. But close second is my visit to the John Frum (also spelled Prom and From) cargo-cult village! I visited the headquarters of the John From movement for Vanuatu (well they only exist on Tanna and one other tiny island). These folks worship American military and hella fetishize the US Army surplus. In fact they have giant duffle bags full of surplus gear at their 2-room museum. And they wear fatigues and camo every Friday Sabbath as they dance to guitar, bass, ukulele and drums. A new song is written every week apparently. While in the village, I had a pleasure of the audience with Chief Isaac who explained to me what he had explained 25 years ago to President Clinton when he allegedly visited the White House: back in 1938, his tribe and the neighboring ones didn’t want to convert to Christianity and obey the British-French rule. And the tribal chiefs were imprisoned for a long time. While in prison, the chiefs had a lot of time to ponder salvation from “the ascendancy of the Christian ministers.” And they decided that it would come from America. America will save them! This particular revelation was told to them by a spirit of an American soldier named John who visited them.And then in 1941 and 1942, US troops really did come to Vanuatu and apparently some Marine also named John told them that they should practice Kustom. So that settled it. They practice Kustom and look forward to the return of John Prom From one day…So there!Now you know everything!