Vanuatu Week Six: Silence and Roaring

Losing your voice for 18 hours is a lovely way to start a Monday. I felt like death warmed up. I even missed a taro and chicken feast because I didn’t feel hungry. That said, taro is good for sore throats. Eating rice made me think of swallowing pebbles. Thankfully, I was still able to eat gateau and drink tea.

For all her health on the weekend, Courtney was slammed on Monday. I may have felt like death warmed up but if that feeling was a person, she was it. While I was boiling, she was freezing and couldn’t move. We were worried because 10 days earlier she had missed a doxy and malaria takes 10-14 days to show up. Thankfully, she ended up just being sick.

I washed for the first time since classes were cancelled, which felt amazing because I was grubby and sweaty. I never realised how much I liked showers and being clean until this week. When you’re constantly filthy, you appreciate the scrubbing and the freezing water.

The week progressed in the weirdest fashion. Buildings were chopped to pieces, other buildings repaired. School was cancelled for the week because the weather was still unpredictable, the classrooms were too damaged and the students needed to help with the clean up. The phone reception was still terrible and I thought it might just have been us, so I was ready to walk further north when my lungs stopped trying to escape my chest. That was until I found out it could be a month before the phones were back up.

We did slowly but surely get better. Well enough to focus on other things. Myra, my friend, was meant to come to visit us in two weeks. We just assumed she was still coming, so we’d be able to pass messages through her. We discovered a lime/lemon drink which was heavenly, so we kept an eye out for lemons.

Even as this happened though, food was running out and so was water. Bananas were at every meal and there was no more aelan cabbage. There is only so many bananas a person can eat before they go crazy, these bananas were also not quite ripe and cooking them had not improved them. Water had to be hauled up from the river past Wosak because the tank had run dry. Things were not looking good.

Thursday was the worst of it for Courtney and I. We ventured into the plantation to open coconuts and pour the water into the water bottles we had. The water we had been given had questionable floating things in it. We opened 20 odd coconuts to fill the three bottles. While we were out, we saw a helicopter flying super low. Everyone was going nuts about it because planes are a rarity, let alone a heli. It seemed to hover in front of us for a bit, the two of us waved but couldn’t see who was inside. We made a joke about Americans and could they please fix the phone towers. I didn’t know just what that helicopter would mean.

Mamie discovered the coconut water and marched all of the kids, the two of us included, off to a neighbouring water tank to fill the drinking containers. Somehow there was taro and cabbage at dinner. The afternoon and evening were spent chewing sugarcane, laughing, playing ukulele, dancing, painting nails and hanging out with our family.

Much like the Friday of the cyclone, I will never forget the Friday that followed. Nothing could ever have prepared me for that. We woke up late, just after seven. Courtney asked me what time it was, she didn’t hear my response, so she turned her phone on. It nearly exploded with messages. I leapt out of bed and we started laughing and dancing. Dad ran to our door and banged on it, thinking something was wrong. Everyone was in our house, Courtney called her mum while my phone caught up the texts. All we could hear to start with was Kerri screaming. 

Then I called my mum. The call came up as an unknown number on her phone, so she answered with just her name. “Hi Mum, it’s Zoë” I have said those four words before and after that day, but never have I been so glad to say them. I spoke to Mum, Dad and Angus. It was amazing, Dad was about to go on the radio. Apparently I was all over the news. There was a helicopter being sent to collect the two of us. It just didn’t seem real.

The next three hours were a blur of getting messages through to people that we couldn’t get to the harbour, the helicopter would have to land closer to us. We saw it go over us but then it didn’t come back. I later found out it was getting other people. A young man from the village ran up the hill shouting about coconuts falling from the sky. He had a plastic bag, which had had a coconut and two notes in it. He had offloaded the coconut to run up the hill with the note. It said the helicopter was coming for us.

While we waited, we ate breakfast, tiny birds are mostly bones. Jineth braided my hair, we sat with our families and stopped our sisters painting their teeth with nail polish. Then the helicopter started to come down where the church had been. We ran up the hill, hugged and kissed our way through the crowd and ended up in the helicopter. On board was Terry, two paramedics, two pilots and an Australian official. We were given a chocolate muffin each and shared a bottle of water. They said they had more stored but we didn’t care, we were happy to share.

The ride to Santo was 20-30 minutes and was incredibly loud. It was pretty awesome too. We had been the hardest people to find but not the last to be picked up. They were going back to get Ally, Camille and Fineen.

At Santo, it was like stepping into a different world. We washed our faces, cleaned our teeth, ate chips and got our hands on a newspaper. My photo was in the paper. The story was about me being missing. It was so weird seeing that. We gave a report to a medic who was working on food and water supplies.

We were flown to Port Vila in an Air Force Kinger. It seats six, one of the seats was taken up by a life raft. Flying over Vila, there was no green, just brown and smoke from people burning all the debris. The airport wasn’t too tidy itself but that was not the biggest thing I had to think about. I was about to shake hands with the Australian High Commissioner. His name is Jeremy, he’s very nice. We signed information release forms, had a media briefing and then we stood behind the commissioner in front of news cameras. We ended up giggling a bit because it just didn’t seem real.

Courtney and I answered three questions afterwards. We told people we were good and very glad that no one in our community was hurt and that I didn’t know what I was going to say to my parents when I saw them next, I wanted to stay until July. We were asked how we felt when the coconut came down, we just laughed at that one.

We were taken to where everyone else was staying and ate peanut butter on bread, which was amazing. There was pasta for dinner. Everyone talked about what happened to them, sounded as though Level was hit the worst but Ambae barely felt it. We were having interviews the next day and then Courtney and I were collecting Kerri from the airport.

My family saw me on the news. I got to call Jack, I texted people back home and I ate enough food and drank a lot of water. I knew one thing for sure, I did not want to go home, I was not ready to say goodbye to Level and I was not finished in Vanuatu. I just hoped I was going home to Level soon.

Love from Me and My Backpack

Vanuatu Weekend Five: Damage

We survived! Happy one month on Pentecost to me. I spent Friday on the floor in the same room as all the sisters, Kerina, Basil and Leona. Mamie, Viran, Kelly, Lavi, Krystal, Sorina, Roger and Dad slept in the other room. I got kicked in the head all night by Jineth, Kay kept rolling onto me, it was about the same temperature as the surface of the sun but we got some sleep.

After breakfast we waited for the all clear. We spent our time playing with the local kids. The ones who aren’t at school yet are either terrified or completely intrigued by white people. Some liked having their tummies tickled, others screamed when they saw us. Can’t win them all.

The climb back home was silent. There was no wind, no rain, just Courtney, Faylina, Kesia and I. 

Surrounding us was destruction, fallen trees, ripped branches. Raton Village had a house with a tree straight through it while the house next door was untouched.  The school station had taken more damage. The school office, known for its drunken angle, had collapsed, class six was all but destroyed, I climbed in under broken beams, had I been sitting at the teacher’s desk in the storm, I would have been squished. The cobana was gone, kindy and class three had lost their roofs, class one and two was a mess and the water tank had a massive split through the bottom.

My little house hadn’t escaped. The roof at the front was gone, there were holes over the bedroom. The toilet had survived, so had the kitchen. The shower didn’t have a roof and the door wasn’t attached anymore, that was going to make life interesting. Our belongings were just in need of a wash.

From what we heard, no one was hurt during the storm, not even a chicken. Ours had sheltered in the big kitchen, which was total mess from them. The cows were already back to their usual antics. Sadly so was the Small Devil but the rats seemed to be in hiding.

The Ni-vans are incredibly resilient. My dad was straight up on our roof, reattaching it. Mr Kelly was doing the same to his. We were all out collecting the fallen fruit. The calm now wasn’t waiting, it was the resting kind.

Sunday was kind of the start of many problems for us.  Turns out it takes a cyclone to take me down and I got really sick like everyone else had been before. Coughing, sweating through whatever I was wearing, itchy ears, sore throat, the works. As soon as the Panadol started to wear off, I felt like my head was going to explode. Courtney, on the other hand, actually felt better and was out helping with sweeping in other buildings. She also had flying fox for lunch. I tried it and I am never keen to again, but she claimed to like it. I am not going forget the smell of burnt fur for a long time.  

The phones were down too, so we had no way of telling people that we were ok. I hoped people weren’t worrying too much but I knew that the news would be reporting the worst of the damage. I didn’t think that’s where I was because we were all still alive, life was getting back to normal and the cyclone had only skirted us. I also reasoned that soon enough Australia and New Zealand would be sending aid in. Surely it wouldn’t be too long until we had contact.

Love from Me and My Backpack

Vanuatu Week Five: Cyclone Pam

I could have edited this episode but instead I took it straight from my journal entry that day. And yes, I was painfully aware that it was Friday the 13^th.  This was written in Wosak Village.

This morning the wind got heavier and the wind stronger. We had gateau for breakfast and that was when it started to get bad.

We had to bolt from the kitchen because the roof was being showered with coconuts. We hid in the store until Mamie told us to run to Miss Viran’s. We were there until lunch. There were 11 kids, Courtney, Miss Viran and me in the house.  I managed to rescue my passport and important documents from our house. Viran’s house literally bowed in the wind. The school office is down, I don’t know where the water tank is. There was a scramble by assorted Ni-van adults to reinforce roofs further, ours in particular but I doubt the classrooms will have them when we go home.

Funny to think I refer to a dirt and bamboo hut as home but it’s true and I pray it’s still there when we go back. Daddy Ben’s place blew down already but him, Mammy, Hensley, Firenze and Nikki are all safe.

Anyway, there was an almighty crack and Kelly’s kitchen came crashing down. Kerina and Auntie were both inside and Mamie said that Dad had to lift the building to get them out. So it was decided that we were evacuating to Wosak. We were sent home to grab clothes etc and I was lucky enough have my journal and bible in the bag I chucked stuff in.

The walk down the hill is the single most terrifying thing I have ever done. Future me, should you decide to walk down a muddy hill in a cyclone, you are crazy and should stay put unless there is no other option. The path is entirely surrounded by trees, which in strong gusts can and do fall down. The descent was a mixture of bolting as fast as humanly possible, screeching to a stop and sliding through mud, half falling the whole time.

I prayed my way down that hill, a tree fell just behind us, Roger was carrying Lavi and I thought we’d lost Basil for a minute. Even though they were telling us not to be scared, every single person scrambling down that hill was in some way. I prayed that we made it to the village intact, nothing more. I had to talk to myself rather sternly for a minute because there was no way I was going to die terrified on a muddy hill. It paid off.

We made it to the Nakamal in one disgusting, soggy piece. I was soaked though, my pyjamas were due for a wash anyway and it was easier to walk in them than my skirt. Oh, the rat that ate my shoes took a few good chunks out of my favourite skirt. I fixed it yesterday. I hope the rat drowns. At the Nakamal, we changed and ate. I have never been so happy to be inside in my life.

Since then, we’ve been moved to a very sturdy house, it’s raised off the ground and you can’t feel the wind. We’ll stay here until the cyclone passes. She’s expected to hit Vila at 1:57 tomorrow, I believe in the morning. This time tomorrow, 3:30pm, we should have survived the worst. Perhaps we’ll be home.

So I don’t forget, the rain is so heavy at points that you cannot see. Complete white out. The wind bends trees in two, they crash into each other and domino down. It’s not hot, it’s constantly dark and the sound of air and water is ever present. This is the worst cyclone Vanuatu has faced in 35 years, since 1980. It’s going to be a hell of a story to tell.

I didn’t realise just how true that sentence was when I wrote it. Just because the cyclone was passing didn’t mean life would go back to normal.

Love From Me and My Backpack

Vanuatu Week Five Monday to Thursday: Batten Down the Hatches

Monday started with bad weather and Courtney having a cold. The weather was so bad that the edges of our roof would lift up and there was a patch of rain water on my bed. The pouring rain did have one advantage, I had the biggest bucket shower of my life. I felt clean for a whole ten minutes.

We were sitting outside in the afternoon when Lavi appeared and started pretending to read us Courtney’s book. We had some picture books inside, which I grabbed. She was delighted with them and spent the rest of the afternoon laughing at us and the pictures. She also got into a fight with a chicken and stole my hat, there is never a dull with moment with that little girl about.

The other exciting thing about that Monday was that we had been in Vanuatu for a month. Somehow we’d actually managed to not make complete fools of ourselves the entire time. It was quite an achievement because every day there was something else that I’d never experienced before.

Tuesday explained why the weather was so bad. There was a cyclone hanging out near the Solomon Islands and we were getting updates about where it was headed. Courtney and I packed away our belongings and stored them under the beds, important documents waterproofed. We just had to hope and pray for the best.

The rest of the day was just normal life. I sewed my sandals back together because a filthy rat had eaten straight through the straps. They were the only shoes I had left and I really wanted to keep them. The Ni-vans were amused, I was not. We had namumbwai which I split open myself, before I could eat it, cheeky baby Krystal came and nicked mine straight out of my hand.

Waiting for a cyclone is not a very exciting experience in many ways. Classes were cancelled on Wednesday. Everything was moved to the class five room because it was deemed the most structurally sound. After that, we were practically confined to our house. All around us, trees were being cut down, branches cut back, roofs reinforced and belongings collected. The metal roofs were taken off buildings and weighted down because it is hard to come by and can be deadly in the air.

I got a call from my mum, asking me if I was worried. I was less worried on Wednesday because people had been preparing for it, unlike on Tuesday. My brain had decided there was nothing I could do about this cyclone and that what was going to happen would happen. I just had to trust God and that his plan was the best thing for me, there was no point fighting that.

Thursday morning we got a message, the cyclone, Pam, was not coming at us as a 3 but as a full on 5. On Pentecost there is a kastom that spitting a certain leaf into the wind would keep the cyclone away from us. Needless to say, I was a little sceptical about that.

The weather really started to creep me out. I could deal with the wind and rain but there were these moments in between the two where nothing was moving. I began to understand why people who had been through cyclones and other natural disasters say the calm is the worst. The waiting is the storm getting close enough to do damage but not being quite close enough to actually show up on time.

Admittedly, we were better off than the Solomons, who had been beaten by Pam and then had Nathan smashing into the other side. There was also a third system developing between Fiji and Tonga. I decided that it must have been “Let’s Destroy The Pacific Nations” month.

Meanwhile, more trees were coming down. We helped drag coconut palms up the hill to secure the roofs. This involved hoisting them up to the person on the roof, who would then tie two together that were draped across the width of the roof. This would stop the roof lifting in the wind, no one wanted that in the night. 

Kerina, Kay, Wawa and Jineth stayed in our front room on Thursday night. They made a real slumber party of it, hair braiding and everything. The rain was torrential, the wind knocked the trees about. Sadly, the worst was yet to come. Pam was just getting started.

Love From Me and My Backpack