Woman Ambae:
A Tale of Peace Corps in the South Pacific

Upon initial arrival I considered Vanuatu to be a country uniquely void of American influence. With no American embassy (the closest is Papua New Guinea), no history of significant interaction aside from a short lived relationship based on geography and the Japanese during WWII and no real assets for exploitation aside from copra (which is a market primarily dominated by the Philippines already), America has by in large left Vanuatu to its own devices. Moreover, with a hearty influx of tourists and foreign aid from Australia and New Zealand, a goods market monopolized by the Chinese and other forms of Asia-Pacific relations spanning from Fiji to Japan filling in every other niche imaginable, Americans and all things North American represent a cultural and geographical rarity here. I like to consider myself a pretty globally conscience individual but to be perfectly honest, before being offered an assignment here from the Peace Corps, I’d never heard of Vanuatu and my guess is the same holds true for most of you reading this. Without a shadow of a doubt most Ni Vans are pretty familiar with America, but for the most unlikely of reasons.

For example, the average Ni Van is largely unaware of the events of 9/11 and the current conflict in the Middle East, has never heard of McDonalds, Microsoft, Budweiser, Boeing or any other major American corporations or dietary staples, couldn’t name a single American city outside of New York (if that) and is utterly perplexed that a seemingly predominately Caucasian country is run by a black man. And I refer to it this way because the hands down top question I have been asked while in service goes something like, “hu ia blak man blong bigfala kavman blong America?” (Who is the black man in the big American government?), which usually prompts the classic inquiry, “America i gat bak man tu?” (America has black people too?). Occasionally I’m treated to the ever so vague indirect inquiry, “mi bin luk long blak man blong America” (I have seen the black man of America).

Any lack of savvy in terms of American political events, cultural diversity and consumer goods in the collective Ni Van consciousness is, in my humble opinion, completely compensated by their impressive and expansive knowledge regarding all things entertainment. Perhaps my favorite conversation I’ve had with a Ni Van thus far went something as follows:

“America i gat blak majik olsem long ples ia?” (Does America have black magic like Vanuatu does?)

“No, mifala no gat blak majik long America.” (No, we do not have black magic in America.)

“Yu kiaman! Mi bin luk long Harry Potter finis!” (You’re lying! I have seen Harry Potter!)

*insert several lines of conversation where I attempt, with no success, to explain the subtle differences in reality on and off screen*

“From wanem yu wantem kiaman long mi? Mi bin luk long fulap blak majik long ples blong yu wetem ae blong mi finis!” (Why do you want to lie to me? I have seen lots of black magic happening where you come from with my own eyes!) *tension escalating*

“Mi harem save be, Harry Potter hemi stap long England. Hemi no blong ples blong mi.” (I understand, but Harry Potter lives in England. He is not from America.)

“O, ale.” (Yes, okay.)

Quick save, I think.

Considering the relative shortcomings in terms of transportation and communications infrastructure an archipelago breeds and the fact my village has no electricity or running water yet many have a more impressive movie collection than I can claim to have owned in the states is entirely mind blowing. Mind you, nearly every one of these is some form of illegal Chinese import, but I say still impressive nonetheless.

It’s not just movies either. As I mentioned my little brother, Brannon, is quite musical; serenading the village from the tops of whatever fruit trees he finds himself in on a delightfully consistent basis. I eat dinner with him and my host family a few times a week, and I usually bring my iPod for him to listen to. On one such night the first week after I returned from Vila, he found his way to the Lady Gaga section of my artist directory and asked me in all seriousness, in Bislama, if I had her new song. Much to his delight I did, as I had just gotten it while I was in the city. But the point of this is that my 12-year-old Ni Van brother is as much, if not more in sync with Lady Gaga’s newest hits as I am. We then proceeded to listen to and afterwards discuss “Born This Way” over plates of taro and cabbage in a dirt-floored bush kitchen made of bamboo and lit by nothing more than a small cooking fire and the stars. Shortly thereafter my iPod ran out of battery, but lucky for us our neighbor turned on his gas powered generator and treated us to some Radio Vanuatu. And of all things, what should pass through those speakers? The Backstreet Boys. Thrilled at this, my little brother started singing along, which in turn prompted my mama to sing along, while I sat there dumbfounded and speechless, mouth full of taro. After the shock of this wore off and our sing along was finished, I asked Brannon who his favorite artist was. His immediate response, “Chris!” (They refer to artists here by first name, as in Chris for Chris Brown, Jason for Jason Derulo, Will for Will Smith etc.). He then proceeded to ask me if I like Chris, which I responded, “Mi likem singsing blong hem be…” (I like his music but…) and before I could even complete my thought he interjected, “be hemi kilim woman blong hem, Rihanna!” (but he beats his woman, Rihanna). And so, while some may not know much about the “war on terror”, disease transmission or the joy of a happy meal, they do know that Chris Brown got into a scrap with Rihanna and every word to “Everybody” by the one and only Backstreet Boys.

Sandrine, Mitz, Jenny and Brannon snacking on guava and rocking out to my iPod

Serving in Vanuatu is unique in countless ways, but perhaps one of the most interesting for me is that Peace Corps serves as the one and only American entity in country. That being said, Peace Corps serves as the face of America in Vanuatu and the only real form of American-Ni Van relations. And that being said, renders us as part-time volunteers and part-time diplomats. I’ve found myself in a precarious balancing act regarding the latter. How do I represent my country to a small, rural village on a remote island in the middle of the Pacific? And how do I do this in a way that is both culturally sensitive, and cognoscente of the fact that I will probably never be as influential here as Rambo, Tupac or Britney Spears have been pre-dating my arrival?

In other news, I found an impressively large spider living in my hair the other day (really) and work is going well. I’ve been teaching in the school four hours a week on Tuesday and Wednesdays, which is exhausting but very rewarding. I have my first water committee meeting tomorrow morning and a nutrition workshop the following day. I also have a maternal child health clinic set up for the end of this month, as well as workshops on diabetes and hypertension/heart disease in May which will lead into a community wide NCD screening.

Here’s a peak at the last few weeks:

My view the other morning, sometimes I have to remind myself this is real (click to enlarge this, the small version doesn't do it justice)

My new neighbor...



Planning for a lesson on anatomy with year 7 and 8... I have to draw my own diagrams and the only curriculum I have is terribly dated, moldy and in French, which I then have to translate into English and then teach in Bislama and intermittent Haven. Teaching so far has been the ultimate test in resourcefulness. I had to call my dad in America to ask him what the function of a spleen was right before this lesson because none of my materials said anything about it and for the life of me I could not remember what a spleen does. I have never missed the power of Google so much.



Mitz pretending she's the village lookout