Ocean Dream / Red Dirt Road

Humpback calf Vava'u

Gathering ammo for articles in Vava’u was spectacularly fruitful. Unlike in Tongatapu, the main island, people were very enthusiastic about the opportunity to promote the region. As a result I was hosted on a fantastic array of different activities. On day 3 I found myself in a go-cart whizzing around the mainland and on day 4 I was out on the waves of the open sea in a boat all day.

The carting was very novel – the very rough terrain in places really epitomised ‘off-roading’. There was also a surprising amount of variety in terms of the terrain/flora/fauna. Up on the north coast, the rich brown/red mud and luscious greens transformed to sweeping yellow fields dotted with pandan trees. I’ll do a ‘photo story’ to try and recreate the impression of the trip:


First stop: beach at the north east of the main island

First stop: beach at the north east of the main island


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Flying fox den with a view

Flying fox den with a view


Picked up a straggler in the cart

Picked up a straggler in the cart


The following day, the excursion couldn’t have been a bigger contrast from that adrenaline filled mud-fest. A reasonably small motor boat, with me, the crew and three underwater photographers on, headed out of the bay, out through the islands to the open sea. We spent from 8am-4pm getting sea sick on the waves, spotting the odd breech or the odd fin but getting frustrated as all of the whales where moving. Tonga is renowned for providing perfect conditions for whales to hang around in. As a result you get many mothers with their calves sitting around in the warm water. If the whales are moving, however, there’s not much you can do about it as they’re far faster than you could ever be!

On our way back in we eventually saw an out spurt of water belonging to a resting mother and we jumped in the water with our snorkels on. The mother was very relaxed and sleepy and dozed away whilst her calf came to play with us near the surface – it was within a couple of metres of us! Every now and then the sleepy mother would rise up to breath and perhaps move along a little, still with her eyes shut! My favourite moment was swimming along side both of them, almost at arms length whilst they slowly moved along. We were in there for over an hour but it certainly eclipsed all of the morning’s sickness and frustration!

My pathetic little underwater camera did not fare well, particularly with the excitement of the situation, but I’ve fiddled around with a couple of the photos a little to try and reclaim a semblance of a whale from them! With any luck, the underwater photographer who got a shot of me with the whales with come through with his promise to send me the picture! I’ll include a low-quality version of his shot of the calf as well – Daniel Norwood photography, is where to go if anyone wants to look further into him.

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As usual, i've failed to get a full whale in but here you can get an idea of what it was like to swim along-side!

As usual, i’ve failed to get a full whale in but here you can get an idea of what it was like to swim along-side!

The mum with her eyes shut!

The mum with her eyes shut!

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Fantastic wooden whale at the crafts shop in town

Fantastic wooden whale at the crafts shop in town

Angels With Dirty Faces


“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”
 – Winston Churchill

I love the way that all the livestock just wanders freely around the Island here. Pigs with their piglets and Chickens followed by clouds of little chicks are everywhere you look. Even the church had a shifty-looking pig lurking about in the garden in front.

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Neiafu, the main town, is pretty easy to navigate around given that it’s just a small line of bars/cafés/the odd shop along the harbour. On my second morning here I was whisked up by one of the couples who’ve set up business just out of town. They run a totally organic and waste free farm where they grow vanilla and coconuts to export to Japan and Australia. I loved hearing the processes by which they re-use any potential waste products: Coconut husks are used as ‘compost’ around the base of the vanilla plants or shredded to form a base for the mushroom farm they’re trying to set up. The shells are burnt to make charcoal, the heat of which is used to extract salt from seawater to cure the pig meat with. Any waste from pigs/chickens is given to the mud crabs in the mangroves which they catch to sell in town. The pig excretions are used to create a kind of ‘bio fuel’ and so on!

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Some kids playing in the gorgeous red dirt!

Some kids playing in the gorgeous red dirt!

The vanilla trade in Tonga used to be one of its main exports – the couple running the farm are trying to rebuild it again.

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When the sun goes down all sorts of crazy things start to happen. On the first night, some of the locals were putting on a traditional dance show. They cover themselves in coconut oil as the customary way of showing appreciation for a dance is sticking a dollar or two to the dancers body! Very strange!!

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This only got more hilarious the next night: Wednesday evening, the ‘Bounty Bar’ host ‘Faka’Lati’ night. Just a note on the language here: pretty much everything sounds either made up or offensive. The word for beautiful is ‘Faka’Ofa’Ofa’…pronounced…well…much like something crass you could say to someone who’s annoying you. To say cheers you say ofa atu, meaning ‘I love you’. Faka means ‘like’ so Faka’Lati translates as ‘like a lady’. On Faka’lati night at the Bounty Bar, the transvestites around town (a surprisingly high proportion of the population) have some fun, dress up and dance on stage for the crowds. Again, the tipping took the form of sticking notes on the performers but here they had no oil on so the notes needed to be tucked in anywhere…much like a strip bar! They particularly liked to pick on the uncomfortable looking men who’d been dragged there by their friends/girlfriends -Very funny.

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Sunny Side Up


As soon as I sorted out somewhere to stay – things immediately began to get easier. Having a place to come back to with a bed is seriously underrated. Showers are still cold but it’s a definite improvement!

Day 1 in Vava’u, Kingdom of Tonga, and straight to work! I’ve been gathering together a network of contacts here to provide info/details/photos for articles. Lots of people are keen to promote Vava’u, particularly on the ‘off season’ so I’ve been hosted on many different tours and excursions. The first was a sailing trip with a lovely couple called Denis and Donna (or Donis and Denna, as I kept accidentally saying). They took me out of the harbour into the beautiful array of little islands that make up the ‘Vava’u’ region.

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The Islands all have hilarious names. Donna and Denis have just leased one called Malafakalava. Nuku Island was my favourite spot. Just look at the colour of the water! I couldn’t resist bothering the clown fish again when I headed out with the snorkel…

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Find Nemo!

Find Nemo!

Playing about with the colours a little

Playing about with the colours a little

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There are also the most incredibly caves dotted about the place. Swallows cave is famous for the clarity of the water for diving. It’s also got a huge series of swallows nests dotted like bats all over the roof, hence the name.

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The perfect introduction to Vava’u – enough to lift anyone’s moods!


Kingdom Of Comfort


To say that things went downhill after the previous post would be an understatement. Don’t be misled by my photographs – pictures tend to reflect the highlights! It would have been pretty unusual for me to have been ill, homeless and hungry and then whacking out a camera to take a photo of the patch of street.

The volunteer organisation I was with in Fiji are essentially a scam. The Brit I’d been sharing a room with rightfully complained about the bed bugs which were steadily chomping into our skin each night. As a result we were moved out of our home. I was very sad to leave the lovely family we had been staying with – they were pretty much the only positive aspect of life in Suva. The family were quite torn up about the episode too, deciding not to host volunteers in the future as they’d had the house fumigated previously but it was too difficult to get rid of the pesky bed bugs.

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'Bimbo' the family cat. I tried to tastefully explain the concept of what bimbo means in England which they all found very amusing.

‘Bimbo’ the family cat. I tried to tastefully explain the concept of what bimbo means in England which they all found very amusing.

My roommate and I were moved to a small double bed in a hostel which seemed more like a mental institution, aptly fitting my current state of mind at the time. We were then told by the organisers that they would be wondering around the village to try and find us somewhere to stay… needless to say – we were both horrified at the idea of setting up camp with a random Fijian family that had never hosted foreigners before etc etc. Meanwhile other volunteers were having money regularly stolen from them in their homestays…

I by no means had it the worst – my roommate had paid (a significant chunk of money) to do sports coaching. On arrival into Fiji she was told that it was school holidays so she’d be handing out fliers at the museum. Another girl was supposed to be helping disabled children in a school. Instead she was put into the leprosy ward to help bathe the patients and was asked to stitch up open wounds! Far from having a place to wind down after the challenging working days we all have ‘accommodation’ that pushes the word ‘basic’ to its limits.

My work at the Fiji Times started out extremely shakily – but I decided not to put up with sitting around being told I just needed to wait around all day. I ended up getting out to report on a few stories but to be honest they were boring as sin – making their way into the business section of the paper. Although I’ve had five articles published – the style of the paper is pretty shoddy in my view so I’m not particularly proud of them. My writing is by no means of a high quality but it was edited to have sentences beginning with ‘and’ and ‘because’…I thought that was frowned upon?!

The experience helped me to fairly firmly establish that I’m not interested in working in a news room. Horrific events and deaths are ‘stories’ to be probed into and dissected. If a girl is raped or killed the reaction is ‘great – let’s get someone round to the family, someone to the police and someone round to the hospital to try get something out of her’. The writing itself requires absolutely no creativity – being stripped of anything other than raw facts in their simplest form.

In my semi-homeless state after being moved out, I arrived at the magazine where I’d transferred my internship to. I jumped upon the offer to ship me out to Tonga for a series of articles – partly because I relished the opportunity to do some serious travel writing but also partly because I desperately needed an escape clause to get out of the situation I was in. The organisation had my passport in the process of getting a working VISA, so for one horrible moment I thought they were simply going to not let me leave the country…eventually we managed to sort it out though.

However – out of the frying pan…

I arrived into Tonga to end up wondering around for several hours with my luggage as every hotel seemed to be fully booked. It’s scary enough arriving into a new place (especially in a developing country) with no knowledge of where you are, how to get around, what the people are like etc. I eventually managed to sort a place to stay for the night but by this stage I had a horrible stomach bug and was feeling very sorry for myself.

I collapsed for a while but had to pick myself up the next day to head out around the island in order to get material for the articles. It was a truly beautiful place – perhaps I can post a draft version of my article once I get it sorted but for now I’ll let the photos talk for themselves. I’m now in a different part of Tonga but more on that later!

Natural land bridge on the south coast

Natural land bridge on the south coast

Kids waiting outside the church in their 'ta‘ovala' - short mat tried around the waist - traditional church-wear!

Kids waiting outside the church in their ‘ta‘ovala’ – short mat tried around the waist – traditional church-wear!

The ta‘ovala for women are longer.

The ta‘ovala for women are longer.

Lots of red and white houses dotted about the villages to match the flag! There's also been a recent coronation so there are bunting-esque decorations all over the place

Lots of red and white houses dotted about the villages to match the flag! There’s also been a recent coronation so there are bunting-esque decorations all over the place


My Tongan taxi-driver!

My Tongan taxi-driver!

The most spectacular part of the island, in my view, were the miles of blowholes stretching down the south west coast!

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More of the same idyllic beaches!

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Slow Poison


Kava is an unavoidable part of Fijian life. It is used to welcome visitors, on special occasions, and just generally for social drinking – so potentially every night! For the traditional ceremony, you sit cross-legged on the mat floor in a sort of semi-circle. The chief sits at the head and next to him someone mixes the kava and a sever waits to hand it out to people. After the initial spiel, when it is your turn to drink the kava, you clap once and have the bowl handed to you. You say ‘Bula’ to everybody, meaning hello, or good health, or pretty much anything you want it to, then drink. It’s important that you drink the entire bowl of kava in one go. This is difficult for a number of reasons: partly because you’re drinking out of half a coconut shell with uneven edges, leading to embarrassing spillage onto your lap, but mostly because it is one of the most foul tasting drinks I’ve ever encountered.

Kava is a root of a particular plant that is grown here. It’s pounded into a powder and mixed with water. It then acts as a sedative. It tastes like very dirty water with a large amount of grit in.

After you’ve downed this flavour sensation, you clap three times to say thank-you. Once everybody has drunk you have a round of ‘story-telling’ or general chatter. This goes on until somebody calls ‘taka’ (or something along those lines – no idea about Fijian spelling). This always sends waves of dread through me as signals a call for another round of drinking. Just two coconut shells were enough to make me headachey and drowsy.

'Grog' is the local nickname for kava - quite apt, I think.

‘Grog’ is the local nickname for kava – quite apt, I think.

Fruit and Veg market in town. Grog's upstairs!

Fruit and Veg market in town. Grog’s upstairs!

First day at work today – no idea what I’m supposed to be doing – just been sat at a desk and not given anything to do…hopefully things will improve as not a happy bunny at the moment.

P.B. The internet is pretty much a no-goer. Have snuck into a hotel in town to post quickly in my lunch break….I’m afraid spectacular scenic photographs etc are going to be scarce until i find a way to get out of the city for a bit!

Rules Don’t Stop

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Unfortunately these pictures are not, in any way, reflecting my current situation. These are where I thought I would be now…instead I have traded the tropical paradise of Vanuatu for the humid mess of Suva city. Suva is not just the largest town in Fiji, but the largest town in the whole of the South Pacific! It’s a bustling chaos of early development – a strange clash of old with new. The markets, food stalls and dirty streets ring true to the Melanesian style I’ve become accustomed to but dotted in between are large westernised shopping malls, clubs and even a cinema! Much to my disappointment, there is very little to actually do here. The nearest snorkelling spots are a good hour away, at least, and no beaches on this side of the island at all, really! What’s more, the forecast is one of the worst I’ve seen for a while! It’s been raining solidly for the last two weeks and is set to continue for the duration of my month’s stay.


After the 40 minute drive from the nearest airport, I arrived late on Sunday evening to my homestay. I will be living with a local family around 45 minutes from the city for the duration of my stay. This was all organised by the volunteer coordinator that set up my internship with the Fiji Times. I have very quickly come to the conclusion that doing such ‘organised volunteering’ is an infuriating waste of money. With next to no information about what to expect, I arrived into this traditional Fijian home and was shown to my bed: the floor on a woven mat. At this stage, I hadn’t been contacted by anybody so had absolutely no information about where I was, how to get food, or even what I was to be doing! The only information I had was a comment from the taxi driver that this was a dangerous area and I shouldn’t go out by myself. Ideal.


The family, headed by Jono and consisting of his wife, three children, extended relatives and the odd passer-by, all seem very friendly and welcoming, particularly the children who range from 13-18. They are incredibly devote Christians. Every evening at 8 we have ‘devotion’ in which we sit on the floor to recite bible verses, pray, listen to a sermon and sing hymns – meanwhile I’m getting such bad pins and needles that I’m having to wiggle awkwardly or bash my totally numb foot to try and regain feeling.

It’s challenging trying to keep up with the various cultural rules held by the family. Certain doors are only to be used by Jono, the man of the house, so are strictly off limits. No shoes, sarongs to be worn at all time, no noise, no alcohol, no eating before Jono, no leaving the table before Jono has finished and you’ve said ‘Vinaka naka kana’ (thank-you for the food)…these are all reasonably easy to abide by. The main one I keep forgetting is that whenever you pass somebody or reach over them in any way you have to say ‘tillo’ (pronounced chillo) to excuse yourself as you’re invading that person’s sacred space or something…

I eventually managed to get into town for a look around so am now feeling a little more orientated. Am infuriated to discover that I’ll apparently be needing to taxi in and out of town for work every day as buses are not reliable enough. NOT great for a serious budget!

This picture of the 'hibiscus festival' going on in town delightfully encapsulates the state of the weather...

This picture of the ‘hibiscus festival’ going on in town delightfully encapsulates the state of the weather…

A Kind Of Magic


My last full day here on Efate, Vanuatu, was packed full of surprises. It started off, as expected, with me heading back to Mele and the ‘Secret Garden’. They had to wait for enough people to arrive before they could put on a show, so I whiled away the time reading about various stories from the different Islands. They had an information section about cannibalism, where they’d stuck various news stories onto boards inside a cave. This was pretty horrific but also fascinating, as many gruesome parts of history are! What were, perhaps, most disturbing, were the photos taken by visitors to the ‘New Hebrides’, as they were called then, who happen to stumble across cannibalism in practice. It was largely done as a form of sacrifice, but also to conquered warriors in order to ‘take on their vitality’, during times of great starvation and very, very occasionally to the missionaries! By the time I’d finished picking through the cave, the show was ready.


A man from Ambrym, the island where ‘black magic’ is said to originate from, prepared himself to display some magic tricks. Below you can see him kitted out in the traditional sheath from the area he comes from. A couple of men from other islands assisted. Here you can see him breaking open a coconut with his hand. I’m not sure if this is a magic trick, really, more just a demonstration of brute strength!

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This man cut off the leaves of one side of a palm branch, waved it around on the floor for a bit, then lifted it to show how the cut off leaves had been restored!


The most impressive trick was when the man from Ambrym took a palm leaf, made a pit in the floor and planted the leaf in. It was then completely impossible to pull out! So much so, that one kiwi – who couldn’t handle the affront to his strength – ripped the branch entirely from its stalk in his attempt to pull it from the ground! Very impressive!


After the show had finished, I headed off, on foot, back in the direction of Port Vila, hoping to flag down a bus on the way as I’d done the day before. Instead, I bumped into some girls wearing grass skirts, asking me to come and watch their show for a ‘donation’. With a ‘why not’ attitude, I followed them into their village where they showed me their bow and arrow, a couple of hilariously uncoordinated dances, and sang to me to thank me for my visit. One of the smallest girls, 10 years old, then took me by the hand and walked me through the village, pointing out her pigs and each member of her, typically enormous, extended family. After I complimented her face paint, she sat me down and got out the powders to draw on my face too!

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Whilst she was in the process of drawing these coloured lines on my face, a man with a sack strolled past and asked me to come and watch his coconut demonstration. Thanking the girls, I followed him to the beach where he promptly shot up a coconut tree! He gave me a coconut to drink, for which I gave him an appropriate ‘donation’, then I carried on my way down the beach.

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I eventually managed to clamber onto a crammed bus, hoping it was heading in the right direction! They tend to only run between Mele and Port Vila really. We ended up winding through all the back lanes of Vila for half an hour before getting to the town!


It’s now Sunday morning. With a flight in a few hours, I’ve hurriedly put together this recollection of yesterday! Hopefully I’ll have a little more time (and better internet!) in Fiji, in which I can reflect properly on Port Vila itself, and my time here as a whole. If there’s no internet at all then I guess this is it for now!

Bat Out of Hell


Lots of people don’t like bats – some even have phobias of them. It’s fairly easy to see why, due to their association with horror and darkness (hence the Meatloaf title). I am definitely not one of them – this little guy was so sweet. It’s easy to see why fruit bats get called ‘flying foxes’! Anyway – I jumped in half way through the day… let me start from the beginning.

I’m running out of days here now! Just when I’m starting to get to grips with the place, I’m going to have to leave! I woke up this morning and hopped on a bus up to the village of Mele, around 10 minutes from town. There are a few places of interest in that area – one of which is the ‘Secret Garden’. At the Secret Garden they apparently bring over men from Abrym Island – the island where black magic is said to originate from – to do magic shows for tourists. Unfortunately, as I was by myself, they hadn’t been able to justify asking the men to come and perform through the morning, so I rearranged to tomorrow morning when some other tourists have booked up to go to the show. They did, however, show me the animals they keep on site, which I was perfectly happy with as an alternative!


These Fijian banded iguanas are rapidly decreasing in quantity due to destruction of their habitats…






They explained to me how they rotate the animals every 6 months or so – releasing and catching new individuals. They were all remarkably tame. Many of them are actually endangered now as they’re unfortunately ending up on dinner tables too much. One such example is the coconut crab. They no longer have them on site due to the scarcity of crabs left! Another example are the fruit bats. I couldn’t resist this little guy – absolutely adorable! They don’t seem to have much meat on them anyway so I’m quite sure why they’re so popular as a food source… They’re just such weird creatures – the way he wraps his wings about himself really does make him look like Dracula, haha.

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More on ‘secret garden’ after I’ve returned for the show tomorrow.

Around 10 minutes up the ring road around the island you arrive at the ‘Mele Cascades’. Some entrepreneurial individual has set up a café near the base of a series of waterfalls in order to be able to charge people to visit. There wasn’t anybody there when I arrived, however, so I just walked on in. The cascades themselves were stunning: a series of waterfalls over an outstanding long stretch of river. The path along side is very well maintained by the people who run the café so it was a very pleasant half hour walk to the pièce de résistance at the end.

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I say ‘path’, some of it included sections like this, with ruts carved into the rock to walk up!



Another half an hour back down the ring road and you come to the beach across from ‘hideaway island’. I didn’t bother going across to the resort as it was an incredibly low tide so not ideal for snorkelling. I loved the way the school kids were playing about on the beach in their lunch hour – their school is right on the shore!


Back tackling with the internet again this evening, so going to draw a line there!

Shores of White Sand


I’ve had a hectic day today – firstly I was trying to get a little work done, then ended up spending hours wandering around town trying to get people to participate in my survey. This was not easy! People seemed to not even understand the concept of a survey, let alone the reasonably complex personal questions I was asking about body image. A few hours later, I gave up and returned to my infuriatingly slow computer to start working through my photos. For some reason the computer, in addition to the internet, barely works. Not ideal.

Yesterday was far more idyllic. I headed out, with a small group, to Lelepa Island – around 30 minutes from Port Vila, followed by a short trip on the boat. We walked across the island to a spectacular beach with the most incredibly clear water.






Caves where, apparently, the coconut crabs live

Caves where, apparently, the coconut crabs live


Each area here seems to host its own collection of goodies for beach combers – this beach had tons of small grey sea beans and those beautiful dotted cone shells. The variety of sea slugs out and about was incredible. I even spotted a few nudibranchs in the low tide. They were a little plain though, unfortunately, but still fun to watch as they floated about!


Whilst admiring this classic outrigger canoe, I asked one of the girls from the island if they still use it – to which she replied by taking me out for a spin!

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The man showing us around his island took us to some caves along the shore. He’d lit it up right to the back with candles to show us the hand prints his ancestors put on the walls when they arrived on the island. This was relatively recently actually but that didn’t seem to dampen the excitement for him! To my delight the roof was covered in tiny little bats trying to sleep. So sweet! They started to wake up and chatter to each other to complain about our intrusion!





We promptly moved onto another beautiful snorkelling spot. The coral gardens around the island really were stunning.


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Finally we made it down to the village on the island where some of the ladies were weaving baskets in the hope to sell their wares to the nosey tourists walking about in their homes. They had a series of necklaces they’d put together from the shells with the amusing label ‘neckless’ beneath them… The village was right on the beach, with some of the houses actually built out of pieces of coral.


Carving up a new outrigger




All in all a beautiful day out to make up for the day in today! It’s taken around 4 hours to try and load photos. Needless to say – I’ve lost patience. Not sure if these are actually going to come through. Attempting to scroll back up to proof read is definitely not going to happen so apologies for that!


Old Habits Die Hard


This morning I headed out, with an Australian couple, to another little village where they do cultural demonstrations, around 20 minutes from Port Vila. The lady was terrified of spiders which became pretty problematic once they started playing about with their ‘toys’, as they like to call them. A man from the village, kitted out in traditional attire, talked us through a number of different aspects of their culture.

Firstly he explained to us about their methods of food preservation. In earlier times when banana and breadfruit were the staple parts of their diets, they had to work out methods of preserving them in case the crops were destroyed by cyclones. They’d grate bananas using a piece of coral then place in all in a large sack to let the water drip out over a period of time. They’d then place the dried mush in a hole in the ground lined with coconut leaves – larger waterproof leaves would be wrapped around the banana which they would replace everytime they went brown. To secure the ‘fridge’ they’d cover it in heavy rocks. Apparently this could then last over 5 years! This seems hard to believe! To make the dried brown mush palatable after such a long time in the ground they’d add coconut milk – covers a number of sins.


He demonstrated the various traps they use to this day to catch chickens and pigs in the bush. Then similar contraptions for marine life.


He showed us a weird looking staff with vine tied onto the end which apparently sucks the oxygen out of the water as it expands. In large quantities (50 men or so each with a staff) they can kill all of the fish in a rock pool through sucking out the oxygen.

The most fascinating was the spider web net – they spin the wooden structure around in spider webs like it’s candy floss until the web gets thick enough to act as a form of net for smaller fish!


The various herbal remedies he was talking about, again, seem a little hard to believe. It seems such a strange concept that you’d go out into the jungle – pick a plant – then squeeze its juice into some water to get rid of a headache… He then told us a story about how he broke his leg a few years ago from falling out of a coconut tree. Instead of taking him to the modernised hospital on a different island his father had carted him, a similar distance, over to a traditional hospital where they ‘operated ‘ with their bare hands and, crucially, without anaesthetic. He says he cried for a week then was furious with his dad for a month. Thankfully, he recovered fully!



The most fascinating area that he talked us through was the history of the spirituality of the country. In the past, ‘black magic’ was widespread, and still believed in to this day. The man explained to us, completely in earnest, how somebody practiced in black magic could strike down someone’s house with lightening or remove their intestines. He says some people do it now today but it’s difficult to tell who because ‘we’re all Christians – they pretend to be Christians too so we cannot tell’. He went on to describe ways in which the missionaries made ‘good changes’ to their culture. For example, until a hundred years ago or so women were made to mourn for 100 days after the death of a husband in which time they could not leave their house – which would be kept in complete darkness with no daylight. They were also not allowed to wash at all within this time!

Chiefs could have as many wives as they had tusks. By tusk, I mean a special kind of pigs tusk which curls right the way round to form a circular shape. The importance of this circular tusk is such that it is on the country’s flag! If a man had kept a pig long enough for it to grow a tusk like this, and then killed it – he would earn himself the right to one wife. One notable chief around 200 years ago had fifty circular tusks on each arm! All of those women were then buried alive with him, as was also tradition, when he passed. All of the people who have brought up the subject of marriage have stressed that they are thankful to the missionaries for changing this as ‘one wife is much better’ they keep saying, through giggles.

Another previous tradition which the missionaries fizzled out was the tactical manipulation of the blood line: a first born to a family HAD to be a son. Any unwanted daughter would have to be disposed of. He proudly explained that over the years their culture has changed for the better: any good suggestions, they take on board and any bad ones – they ignore. This is the main reason why they maintain this primitive way of life in this particular village – they want to show to tourists and their own youngsters how life used to be in the country in order to maintain a sense of their own culture.

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Their village's banyan tree, or 'cyclone shelter' as he called it!

Their village’s banyan tree, or ‘cyclone shelter’ as he called it!

After fish and chips in town and a stroll around the market to pick up a couple more lavalavas (sarongs) I went off to ‘survivor’s beach’, which apparently has something to do with the TV program ‘survivor’. Will let the photos speak for themselves, again! Armed with the underwater camera, I found a pretty massive giant clam – a very weird looking creature!

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P.B. a few fairly major spelling mistakes have been pointed out to me over the last few days (draw-dropping seemed right at the time, haha) so apologies for my lack of proof reading – am so relieved once everything finally uploads on this horrendous internet that I then promptly retire.