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| Photo by Dick on Geramar |
It wasn’t easy to tear ourselves away from the wonderful
anchorage of Port Resolution on the island of Tanna but just after sunrise on
the morning of 30 September we pointed Rutea’s
bow almost due north to the east side of Erromango Island. Corie again crewed for Mark on Merkava and all of us enjoyed a pleasant
sail in the southeast trade winds. Our
destination was Port Narvin, a small village on the north side of Traitor’s
Point, where some friends had heard that the school there was in desperate need
of supplies for their schools. While we
were still in Fiji, we had stopped by a stationary store and stocked up on
pencils, paper, notebooks, etc in anticipation of our visit.
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| Ruthie with Chief Joe |
The anchorage there was far from ideal and the swells
wrapped around the point so Rutea
(and all the rest of the boats in our little flotilla) rolled badly while at
anchor. Sleep that night was hard to
come by and we were all looking forward to getting off the boat when morning
dawned. As we made our way into shore,
we could see a long line of school children excitedly watching us. Once we landed the dink, we were greeted by
the two chiefs, Joe and Andre (there’s actually two separate villages side by
side and each village has it’s own chief but by all appearances its one village
of about 800 people). Because the
anchorage is so poor, yachts rarely call on this port and now there were six
yachts anchored in front of their village.
This had never happened before, we were told.
We were led into the school yard where the students ran
around as if there was the promise of ice cream or a long vacation waiting for
them. Gradually they began to file into
the small, cinderblock building which was way too small for the one hundred or
so students. The cruisers were given
chairs at the head of the classroom, as if on display, and the students gawked
and giggled at the collection of old, white people. Of course, Corie commanded the most attention, being pretty,
white and young. One of the teachers
spoke and the students became quiet as a line of older girls filed in with
garlands of flowers that they placed around each of our necks. We were asked to introduce ourselves. With a guitar, one of the teachers led the
students in a couple of songs where the students sang loudly and in beautiful harmony. The principal spoke, welcoming us and then
asked us to circulate through the classroom and grounds, talking to the
students. Corie was instantly mobbed by
the girls who were fascinated with her hair.
Ruthie and Beth attracted large groups of students as they read books to
them. I spoke with one of the teachers
who told me that there was no road that came into the village. There is no store, no phones, no power, no
doctor or nurse. The nearest village
that has some of these basic functions is a five-hour boat ride away.
After we had spent a couple of hours with the students,
Chief Joe and Chief Andre offered to take us on a hike up the mountain. Wearing only flip-flops, we started to climb
the sometimes steep terrain through the jungle. Chief Joe was barefoot.
The climb proved to be more strenuous than we had anticipated but after
about an hour-and-a-half we were at the top, soaked in sweat and looking over a
beautiful view of the bay where we were anchored and Cook’s Bay to the
south. Also we were looking over the
foundation for a cellular tower that is in the process of being built. Since there’s no construction equipment on
the island, all of the materials are carried up by both men and women of the
village. There were maybe 1,000 sacks
of crushed coral (that will be mixed with concrete), each sack weighing about
50 pounds. There were 55 gallons drums,
filled with water, which had also been carried up by hand in 5 gallon jugs, one
at a time. All of the framework and
rigging for the tower had also been carried up by the people of the village.
We had been poorly prepared to make the climb, not just in
terms of footwear but also we had no water or food with us. Chief Joe left us for a few moments and
returned with a half-dozen fresh coconuts tied to a stick that he carried over
his shoulder. With his machete, he
opened a small hole in each one and the cool coconut water quenched our thirst
and the coconut meat refreshed us. On
the way back down the mountain, Chief Joe said repeatedly, “Please don’t forget
us. Remember what we’re trying to do
here.” There was almost a pleading in
his voice.
I know all of you get more requests for donations than you
could ever attempt to grant and I’m very reluctant to add one more. Regardless, this village has very few
prospects – there’s no tourism on the island and yachts are few and far
between. For school supplies, someone
has to travel to Efate Island, almost 90 miles away and they have a pathetic
budget to work with. All of us were
very touched by this village and would like to help. They desperately need computers, school supplies and books and I
don’t think donations of cash would make it to the right people. I’m willing to pay for the freight to
Vanuatu if you’d be willing to donate anything else – a ream of paper, an old
computer that you no longer use, some children’s books or PC educational
software (they’d especially like a set of encyclopedias on CDs). If you can find it in your hearts to send
something, I’d be grateful. Please send
it to my home in San Diego and I’ll volunteer my daughter, Caity, to organize
the shipment.
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| Birthday Cheesecake from Tricia on Geramar |
We left Port Narvin later that day, my birthday, and
traveled overnight to the island of Efate and the capital of Vanuatu, Port
Vila. We once again have internet access,
stores, restaurants and traffic. From
here we’ll continue north before we have to decide whether to sail directly
west to Australia or south first to New Caledonia and then Australia. The weather will impact our final decision.
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