We spent a lot of our first week in Vanuatu either watching cricket on TV (the spectator sport equivalent of waiting in line at the DMV), or sitting by the pool at our fancy-schmancy resort on Iririki Island. But we did try to get out and see something closer to the real Vanuatu while we were in Port Vila, mostly through hot and sticky walks around town that took us away from the main tourist strip, and by doing a full-island circumnavigation of Efate one day. Our Efate Island Tour photo album covers most of that ground, but we did want to mention a few facts and observations about Vanuatu that we’ve picked up since we arrived here.
The people here laugh a lot. We kind of thought that the whole “happiest country” moniker was a bit of a gimmick, but then we arrived in Vila and started hearing laughter just about everywhere we went. The ni-Vans laugh while they’re working, they laugh while they’re going to the market, they laugh when they’re driving, they laugh at the rain. And these aren’t just giggles — these are loud chortles of laughter, the kind of infectious laugh that makes you smile even when you realize you may be the butt of the joke. (Surely they look at the goofy tourists walking around town during the hottest part of the day and can’t resist making a few jokes at our expense.) A number of people here have told us that, though the ni-Vans don’t have a lot (most villages don’t even have electricity), they live happy lives because the fertile soil and sunny climate allows them to be relatively self-sufficient. As one woman put it, “There’s 45% unemployment in Vila, but we still smiling.”
;)
That’s not to say there aren’t significant challenges here. We had a very disheartening conversation with one of our local guides about the state of education in Vanuatu. All children go to public primary school, but at the age of 12, they have to take a test to see if they can continue on to secondary school. The nationwide test results are announced on the radio, and the children who do not score high enough to move on are finished education-wise. There is no second chance for these kids — they can return to their villages and learn some kind of trade or subsistence farming, but they won’t be able to set foot in classroom again. For the students who do pass, there’s no guarantee that they’ll actually be able to attend secondary school: if the high cost of school fees doesn’t keep them out (even public schools charge fees and require parents to buy all supplies and uniforms), then the lack of available classroom space might. It’s these very challenges that our former employer, Room to Read, is working to address in a number of Asian and African developing countries — and I couldn’t help but think as we talked with our guide that Vanuatu could use the help of Room to Read as well.
Besides ubiquitous laughter, probably the other other aspect of ni-Van culture we’ve noticed most often is “island time.” Obviously “island time” is not unique to Vanuatu’s 79 islands — Jimmy Buffet has built an entire career singing its praises around the globe — but this is the first time that we’ve seen it in action (or lack of action) so often. Island time is more than just an approach to time (when, for example, businesses randomly close down for no reason at all and just as randomly reopen when they feel like); it’s an entire philosophy.
A good example of island time was our conversation with the Air Vanuatu representative in Vila when we were booking all of our inter-island flights. We had just paid for all of the flights, and the representative (David) gave us a printed itinerary with each flight’s departure and arrival time. This is how the conversation went:
Lustin: This looks great, but one quick question. There’s no flight number or departure time listed for our flight from Pentecost to Vila. It’s just blank. Did you forget to include it?
David: You do not see that flight because it does not yet exist.
Lustin: Um, OK, but didn’t we just pay for it?
David: Yes, don’t worry. There will be a flight. We just don’t know when.
Lustin: Well, we’re leaving town tomorrow and may not have internet access after that. How will we know when the flight is supposed to leave Pentecost?
David: You will know when someone takes you there.
Glad we got that cleared up! :) For the record, it’s now the day before we’re supposed to catch that mystery flight from Pentecost, and we still have no idea if it actually exists and when it will take off. But we’re learning not to ask too many questions, to go with the flow, and most of all, to turn off our Type A brains and try to embrace the fluid, ever-changing world of island time. We’ll probably have lots more to say about that when we write about our week on the island of Espiritu Santo, where island time is not just a way of life, it’s a full-fledged religion.