Taking Learning out of the Classroom

Suddenly the year seems to be speeding away on me. Weekdays are full with teaching followed by coffee and socializing on the water front and weekends are also full with sailing, paddle boarding, market shopping and Sunday morning swims at Mele Beach followed by a big breakfast which takes us through to lunch and sometimes dinner. There is not much to complain about and life is good.

Evening sail on Skye-Rose.

School trips are an interesting event. My first ‘outing’ was taking my class to the inter-school Beach Cricket Competition. Buses were ordered and the kids were organized and ready. We waited and waited. Half an hour later we managed to contact the bus drivers “oh, very sori, weels, they fall off bus”. After another half an hour we finally get two more vans. The students pile on board these beat-up roadsters, packed in with no seatbelts, windows wide open, kids hanging out and we head off. We don’t get far and we come across a street parade for the university open day. The bus stops. By now the cricket competition is, or should be well underway. We finally arrive one and a half hours late. Never mind, half the other schools haven’t arrived either. Island time”! The wind, which never blows onto the beach has decided to come in full force. We were sand blasted and hit full-on with horizontal rain. The kids were still happy, at least it was warm.  They lost all their games. Not a surprise. The girls only learned how to play the day before and guess who taught them. Yes, I took a five minute look at a book and for the first time in my life learned how to play.

The Girl's team trying to look fierce.

After the shambles of this trip it was with some trepidation that I took them to Parliament the following Monday. It was the opening session. The MP’s arrived with police escorts, there was a lot of serious business and I threatened my students with all manner of punishment if they dared play up in the Gallery. There was a lot of pomp and ceremony and the kids were fascinated. Parliament lasted for twenty minutes then the MP’s retired until later in the week.  We headed off to the Cultural Centre, a run around the park and anything else I could add to delay returning to school too soon. I feel like I can tackle anything now!

Sand drawing demonstration at the Cultural Centre. Mesmerizing stuff!

The staff highlight for this term was The Amazing Race which Susi and I organized. I’d forgotten how competitive teachers are. It was absolute carnage with staff either ripping off or swimming in their clothes during the paddle boarding, forming roadblocks to wave down buses, jumping on the back of trucks they had waved down and literally ‘throwing’ pots at Wan Smol Bag Art Centre. Activities which Susi and I had spent days organzing and hours putting into place were completed or demolished in minutes. It was hilarious.  Now they all want to know when the next event is. Needless to say there were many weary bodies at school today.

My wonderful teacher-assistant Naomi trying to make a kava bowl during the Amazing race.

But life is not just school. The harbour is always a scene of mystery and intrigue.

Not the drug boat or the Russian launch. Just a nice evening on the waterfront.

 

 This week’s big news was the seizing of 32 billion vatu (72 vatu to the NZ dollar) of cocaine cemented to the hull of a yacht which has been sitting in the harbour for years. A search was carried out two years ago after tip offs but nothing was found. I wonder how hard they looked! We watch all manner of boat come and go. The latest was an enormous launch complete with helicopter, submarine and grenade launcher owned by a Russian billionaire who flew in on his private Lear jet for a spot of big game fishing for a weekend and then departed again.

There are so many stories that could be written here. I’m just too lazy and too busy enjoying myself to be the one who writes them.

Until next time. Lukim Yu

 

 

 

long taem no blog

 

There is never a dull moment at school and two events in particular are worth a quick blog mention. The first is the school athletics day, not for the Olympian style events or the incredible distances our Ni-Van students manage to throw the javelin, but for the behind-the-scene action which fortunately didn’t result in death. Our Ni-Van grounds man had been instructed to cut and prepare the fields for this annual event. Unfortunately, he spent three weeks carefully cutting and grooming around the oval but omitted to spend any time within it! Finding the discus and javelin after each throw was somewhat of a mission impossible!!!

My special teaching friends Carla, Susi and Naomi my TA.

The dilapidated stadium at the sports field was originally built for the Pacific Games  but for many years now, has been left unmaintained and is a real earthquake hazard. Only the brave would dare sit on the seats to watch events and our students were banned from going anywhere near it. Not so for our grounds man who, with a few spare hours at hand happened to notice a large fuse box hanging loosely from the wall. The protruding copper wire was enticing. Here was a chance for him to make a few extra dollars. He returned to school to get a hacksaw and promptly proceeded to saw through the copper wire. Unfortunately, he forgot to check if the fuse box was live!!!!! The first we knew of this was when he arrived at school on school a few days later with a bandana tied around his face. “Oh? What’s wrong with you?” our principal asked. “Mi hav wan bigfala cold” he said.  “You can’t walk around school like that” she replied “Take it off. You look like a ganster.”  

He did so, only to reveal his nose, lips and surrounds burned black. Shocked she questioned him further until she got the whole true story.  On further inspection she noticed a badly bandaged hand. Our deputy principal, who has the  stomach for dealing with medical disasters carefully unwound the bandage revealing a black, rotting, stinking hand.

 We all waiting anxiously while he was taken to the doctors, convinced that the outcome would be an amputation. Fortunately, luck was on his side and the hand could be saved. Any longer and this would not have been the case. I don’t think he’ll try stealing any more copper wire!!!

From solemn commemoration to Celebration

The school curriculum says to teach Australian history but it seems irresponsible not to be teaching the history of the country I’m teaching in. Especially as Vanuatu was gearing up for the first commemoration of the atrocity known as Black-birding. So, armed with three volumes on Vanuatu history, I set about trying to understand the political journey of these islands and  how they progressed from being The Sandwich Islands then The New Hebrides to finally in 1980, being renamed Vanuatu.

If New Zealand Maori have grievances, they almost pale in comparison to what the Ni-Vanuatu have endured. In the 1800’s generations were torn apart as islanders were taken to Queensland to work on the sugar-cane plantation, slavery more commonly known as Black birding. It had taken 150 years to acknowledge what the people endured and the commemoration which marked the start of Independence Week was emotionally charged with speeches with many moved to tears. Thank heavens for the energetic dancing, songs and entertainment which followed to lift our spirits!

 

 

 

 

 

Vanuatu was settled by the French and the British, enemies for years,  and their relationship in these islands was no less harmonious.  Trying to create a lawful society, they first tried to be governed by a Naval Commission but without success. This was followed by establishing a condominium where both countries governed simultaneously. Imagine...own languages, own schools, own airlines, own police departments. No wonder the condominium soon became known as pandemonium. The indigenous people were virtually ignored and powerless. Neither government took responsibility for the islanders,  they had no country of citizenship,  and identity cards were the only form of identification.  It wasn’t until the 1970’s-1980 which were fraught with demonstrations and bloodshed as the islanders fought for recognition and the French and British fought to keep what they had taken, that  a constitution was written, the New Hebrides became independent and were renamed Vanuatu. Big breath. END OF HISTORY LESSON!

 

As you can imagine, this history led to a lot of debating and drama in the classroom as the kids came to grips with all of this, especially....the French, the British and the Ni- Vanuatu students. It’s a wonder that I didn’t start a civil war in my class room (although it sounded like it at times)!!

After the colour and drama of the commemoration I was keen to follow the Independence Day celebrations and was not disappointed. The weather was sweltering and when you packed about ten thousand people into the park the heat was overwhelming.  You cannot ignore the colour of these islands. With the woman wearing colourful island dresses (Mother Hubbard Dresses as they are known), umbrellas in the Vanuatu colours and the blinding whiteness of the troops it was a sight to behold. The pomp and ceremony of colonialism was still evident with the marching, brass band, speeches and flag-raising, but, even amongst the ceremony there were many light-hearted moments. 

 

 

 

By the afternoon, even though entertainment was in full swing all over Port Vila it was time for a little light recreation. So, it was off to Mele Beach and the Beach Bar with friends for a swim and our own celebrations. A great day.

Lukim Yu



The way I see myself (Left) and the way one of my students sees me.

 

 

 

 

Pentecost

“Would you rather crash in the jungle or the sea?” asked the intense foreigner as she leaned across the aisle trying to take photos out of the window on my side of the plane.”Neither” I replied.“So could you climb back into your own seat!!!” I asked.  She did. A few minutes later she pulled a soft toy rat out of her bag and started trying to cello tape it to the plane window. The rat wouldn’t co-operate and kept falling off. Eventually, the rat stayed attached long enough for a quick photo and I snapped one as well. While I was wondering what was going on she  started rummaging through  the seat pocket.

 

 “Do you have a sick bag?” she asked. “For you or the rat?” I replied. While all the time thinking “If you don’t sit still and stop leaping all over this tiny plane we are all going to need one!.”

I’m not a nervous flyer...but it doesn’t take much to unnerve me on a small plane. And as we made our way to Pentecost Island to watch  the famous land diving from which bungee is said to originate, I was feeling just as nervous as any jumper.

The runway soon appeared among a sea of jungle green, bordered by the clearest water I have ever seen. A string band plucked up a welcome song to the delight of the group. (When you’ve lived in Vanuatu a while, string bands are no longer exciting, in fact, you usually try to avoid them.)

We were welcomed with a grass necklace and wait quietly for a number of other planes to arrive. It was a beautiful day but the thick mud we glug our way through on our way to the tower made me think that we were lucky.

It was only a short walk to the tower and one is probably right in thinking that this, only one of five towers on the island, has been built close to the airport for convenience. Never-the-less, the first sight is intriguing.  A number of Ni-Vanuatu were climbing over the tower doing last minute adjustments to the rudimentary structure  fashioned from wood and vine.

At first the men were barely noticeable as their sinewy brown bodies blended into the wood and twine.

A massed group of grass-skirted women and children gathered on one-side while men clad only in penis sheaths began jumping and stamping to a hypnotic chant. The anticipation was palpable. The heat and stickiness of the day left me wondering if the gleaming sweat coating their bodies was from heat or fear.

The tower has four layers of planks. The youngest boys began at the lower level and so forth until the final, most experienced jumper leaps from the top.

As we waited the chanting grew louder. There was not a sound from the onlookers. The first jumper looked no more than about 11 years old. He joined in chanting with a voice that occasionally cracked.  Finally when the feverish chanting reached a crescendo, the boy leapt. There was a loud crack as the plank snapped and within seconds the boy hit the ground.  Two older men, whose job  was to dig the mud at the base of the tower to keep the earth soft, rushed over and lift edhim to his feet, helping him limp back to the main group. I wondered if we are supposed to clap but no-one moved.

 

And so it went on in the sweltering heat.  I find it hard to describe how I felt, part voyeur of an ancient ritual, uneasy at the eeriness of the atmosphere, disbelief that I was actually watching it.

 It was, without doubt, one of the most disturbing cultural rituals I have witnessed but strangely enough no-one else felt the same as me.

I looked across at the woman I had met on the plane. While the islanders are jumping she was trying to get the rat to stand up on a log. The log was too damp and the rat still wouldn't co-operate. The ritual continued in front of her while she battled with the rat. What funny creatures we are.!!!

 The flight back to Port Vila was also very memorable. When the weather is good the flight path takes you directly passed Ambryn, one of Vanuatu’s most active volcanoes. As luck would have it the clouds had parted leaving us a clear view of the volcano. The terrain was like nothing I had ever seen before, acres and acres of puckered, pleated and scoured ridges, grey rivers of ash and then two most gigantic vents with rims of yellow and of course the deep red glow of the lava at the bottom of the pit. I’ve never been so scared as I was as we flew directly over the crater. And all the time the rat-woman tried to clamber over me to get ‘the shot’.  I expected her next question to be “Would you rather crash in the jungle, the sea or the crater of a volcano” cos I sure as heck thought that was what was going to happen if she didn’t sit in her seat!!!

 

This would have to be the most exciting one-day trip I’ve ever had. I arrived home exhausted but also knowing that these special adventures are the very reason I chose to live in this country. (For a short time anyway!!)

Lukim Yu

 

 

 

 

Searching for a Social Live

It is 3am and the thunder, lightning and torrential rain has been continuous for hours. I lie awake in the comfort of the house I am looking after for three months and think of the villagers down the hill. Their make-shift homes constructed of corrugated iron, thatch and whatever timber resources they have managed to find, must be nearly floating away. The floor would now be a sea of mud. Everything they own would be soaked. They would be huddled together trying to stay dry. The only concession is that it is warm. Perfect breeding conditions for mosquitoes and disease which much surely follow. This is not a one-off occasion. This is the tropics and they don’t call it Rain Forest without reason. However, this is their life. And yet they will clean up, smile, sing and carry on. What resilience!!!

Life continues to be good to me. I’m in a lovely home. Have the most delightfully intelligent dog to look after and a not so friendly tortoise shell cat that is nearly blind. The house comes complete with gardener and house help. I don’t create much work but I will sure be challenging them with my bad attempts at speaking Bislama. It should be the easiest language to learn as it’s only pigeon English but there are lots of ‘blongs’ ‘longs’ ‘ems’ ‘ums’ and ‘ims’ and I sure do get them muddled!

Now that the foreign is becoming familiar my life is settling into a new rhythm. The emphasis is less on how to shop, travel and communicate and more about finding a social scene which will give me contact with people outside of school. However, in a city as small as Port Vila, there is no escaping parent of pupils and being  aware that anything you say and do will quickly become the next ex-pat coffee morning topic.

Monthly social events at the Australian High Commission seemed to be a safe way of meeting others. There is a procedure of being greeted by the security guard at the entrance, signing your name and signing the name of the person who invited you. When you actually haven’t been invited this can cause a problem. The choice is to try to write the name of the person on the list above you, provided you can decipher it, or ask around before you go so that you  find out the name of someone going. After a few drinks no one really cares.

I’m more than a little reluctant to sample the kava after watching everyone rinsing their mouths out with alcohol to get rid of the taste. Then there’s the hoiking, spitting and clearing of the throat...sounds that will haunt you forever! I’m assured that the Port Vila Kava is unlike the Tanna Kava which is made by first chewing the kava root then spitting it into the bowl for further brewing.

I’ve now been to baby showers, book club, dancing and dinner parties and I can confirm after an evening of wine-tasting that New Zealand and Australian wines are favourable to the French. I am also proud to announce that I can drive safely on the right-hand side of the road!!

They say that ex-pats in the tropics are either mercenaries, missionaries or misfits....there is certainly an enormous range of people. Types that I have never meet before.  Honestly...you could write a book about them...but I won’t.

I met a wonderful woman who appears to be the key to knowing about every social event.  She has put me on ‘The mailing list’ and I am in awe of the amount of stuff happening.

This New Friend (whose name I shall not mention due to Port Vila being so small) insisted that we go dancing at the WaterFront Restaurant on Friday night. The band was fantastic. The local dance instructor was flying around the floor with his beautiful dance partner. (A scene from ‘Dancing with the Stars’ ).  New Friend decides that we should join them. It’s amazing what you can be persuaded to do after a drink or two.

 Picture this, dance floor with prize-winning couple and two over 50’s shimmying  and sweating while everyone else watches. Six very tall, elegant Tahitian travel agents arrive. Average age 20+, legs up to their armpits and wearing crowns of exotic flowers. This should have been my cue to leave the floor but realise that everyone will be looking at  prize-winning dancer and exotic Tahitians  NOT flapping over- fifties covered in a film of sweat.

We carry on. “Look!” says New  Friend “There’s (he- whose- name- shall- not- be- mentioned) he’s single and got lots of money’. She races over to the bar. An elderly French man turns and gives me a little wave. I sink into my drink. She brings him over, introduces him, grabs my left hand, waves it under his nose and says “single, single...look single’. He kisses me on both sides of my ever-so-sweaty face, takes my hand, kisses it and mumbles in French. (One can only guess what he was mumbling...I didn't understand a word of it!) New Friend disappears leaving us to carry on an awkward conversation! Actually, I was the one trying to carry on a conversation...he spent the whole time gazing at my chest and the tiny...ever so tiny peek of cleavage!

Minutes later, on the dance floor, picture this .... exotic Tahitians, prize winning dancers and Frenchman flinging me around the floor trying to control my erratic....I said ERRATIC...moves, there was definitely nothing erotic about them! I managed to get flung towards the dance instructor, leaned back and gasped as loud as I could .. “private lessons, need them urgently....” but before I could make a date I was flung the other way.

I finally spotted New-Friend and as soon as the band stopped, quietly thanked my partner and headed off to seek a much needed ride home to mop up and recover. I last saw the French guy patting the bottom of a botox blonde about 40 years younger. Much more his type I think J.

 

I really must start to take some more photos or get some with me in them! Hideaway Island is my regular weekend hideout. The snorkeling is fantastic. I've been for some dives but missed the mother and baby dugongs in the harbour and the Whale shark at the entrance.

 

I’m off to Pentecost Island next weekend to watch the land-diving. I hope I don't end up like this guy.

 

 Next blog should be much more educational for those interested in the real Vanuatu.

Lukim Yu

Ange

 

 

March Update

Two months into living in Vanuatu and life is finally settling into routine. The alarm rings at 5.30am. I get up, waste too much time checking email and face book, find myself late, throw any leftover food into a sealed container for lunch, have a shower and walk as fast as I can (snail’s pace) to the bus stop.

The buses are hundreds of privately owned vans with a ‘B’ on the number plate and pass every few minutes. If I catch one as close as I can to 6.30am I’ll get a direct route to school “Mi go long PVIS plis?” If I’m five minutes late I could go anywhere (including a lot of places I do not want to go) and the ten minute ride can take up to 40minutes.

My students still continue to amaze me with their mature attitudes, world views and consideration of each other. Yes, they can still be kids but to be honest the worst thing they do is talk too much however if I analyse their talk it is mostly valuable discussion. I’ve decided to harness this vocal energy into weekly debates. I have about eight outstanding speakers who need real competition to move them ahead. We will compete against our own high school students soon but I’d love to see these kids perform in an international debate. For those teachers reading this; I’ve also been giving them the NZ Lit Quiz Sample Questions and the group scores are all eight to ten. I’d score a three or four! They are veracious readers.

We all run an After School Programme to earn a bit of extra money and to cater for students who need extracurricular activities. You guessed it, I run a drama class for years 6,7,8 and 9. It is an absolute delight. They are so clever and funny. If I run an extension class next term I’ll need to call upon TPHS drama teachers for some advice!

Weekends have also settled into routine. Saturday morning I’m up at 7.30am and catching a bus to paddle boarding fitness. I no longer spend the hour sweating and wanting to throw up but actually find some enjoyment in it, I’m also meeting some new people. Maybe I’ll stick to it after all.

Then it’s back to the Kaiviti for breakfast, market for fruit and veges, Numbawan Cafe for a decent coffee and whatever the rest of the day brings. I’m careful to avoid town when the cruise ships are in. Honestly, I think you must be tested on size before you are allowed on a cruise! I’ve never seen so many overweight people wobbly down the street. Yesterday it was like Teletubby Town and nearly every one of the Teletubbies were smoking!!!!

Sundays are for exploring, this usually involves heading off to one of the islands for a lazy day with a bit of snorkelling and reading.  I was really lucky to tour the whole island with my friend Suzy  and her family last week. This really made me realise what a magical wee island Efate is. It’s very easy to get caught up in the whole busy, noisy, fume-filled city and forget that a gentle life exists away from the pot-holed main drag.   Circumnavigation takes three hours but with beautiful bays, hot springs, blue holes etc one could spend days slowly meandering around....and I will.

 

Bislama lessons (local pidgin English) continue to be a heap of fun and more often than not Suzy and I get into giggling fits which won’t stop.  We are a small group, a Dutch photographer, who has an interesting Facebook site called ‘Human Faces of Vanuatu’, a French university professor, a Canadian volunteer, Susy and I.

 

There is much talk here at present of the workers who are heading off to NZ to workthe kiwifruit season. After listening to Ni-Vanuatu speak of their experiences I have to question the worthiness of such a scheme.  Is NZ really providing opportunities for island workers or are they simply generating a pool of cheap labour?  The families and villages suffer; the women work harder, there is no-one to keep teenage boys in line, and no male role models left in the villages.  Troubles brew. The islanders who leave, do so with a specific goal in mind. For many it is to pay for their children’s education which they see as a link to a better life. Most return with only the few hundred dollars which remain after they have repaid their airfares, accommodation and food. If the weather is bad in NZ they don’t work therefore don’t get paid but still have overheads. For some, there have been very bad seasons and they return with nothing.  At times I have felt ashamed as I have listened to their stories. I’m going to dig deeper as I know there is some valuable writing material here.

On a brighter note, every day I learn something new. This week’s lessons: 1)Put glasses on before eating food, those miniature brown ants take only seconds to completely smother any food left alone for the shortest time. 2) Empty the kettle as often as possible. The tickle in my throat after I drink is caused by calcium. When I empty the kettle at the end of the day what comes out looks like huge chunks of blackboard chalk.

I’m always on the lookout for social events that might lead to meeting new friends. Yesterday was International Woman’s Day and Alliance Francaise held a exhibition of art by local women. The food was exquisite, the punch had a real kick, the Ni-Van Women’s’ string band was entertaining (although rather a repetitive sound after a while) and the people interesting to watch. However, watch was all I could do....everyone was young, chic, smoked and spoke French!  I spent an hour  mastering the art of eating delicate finger food, drinking and nonchalantly  looking like I belonged when I totally DID NOT, then wandered home. I hear the Australian Embassy has a monthly fund raiser. Maybe I’ll go to that!!

I’ll be back in NZ early April for a few weeks and hopefully catch up with a few people. Until then, keep in touch.

Lukim Yu

 

 

 

Group Gatherings

As religion is an important aspect of many Ni-Vanuatu’s lives I decided that a visit to the Catholic Cathedral would be of interest. By 8.30am a congregation of about 1,000 people filled the pews. The choir began to sing and the church roof lifted. I was in awe. The sound was incredible and resonated through every part of my body. After a few songs the service began. As a Catholic (although somewhat lapsed) I am conditioned to a 45/50minute service. By 9.30am the offering still hadn’t been collected and the temperature had risen. Everyone furiously fanned themselves and at one point I thought the entire Cathedral was ready for lift off to the heavens. By 10am I was looking for an escape route. It wasn’t going to be easy. I was wedged in between what appeared to be a huge floral garden and a sand-bank. They were in fact only two rather large members of the congregation.  As one of only two Europeans at the service remaining inconspicuous as I sneaked out was  never really an option, so I settled down and prayed for the service to end. My prayers were heard!

I’ve been told the Vietnamese service is very quick so maybe I’ll try that next time. I’m sure it will be the same God and if I can follow the service in French and Bislama then Vietnamese will be a doddle.... or not.

Anyway, I mustn’t have prayed hard enough because later in the week we had two major events. The first was the Tsunami warning which fortunately occurred as school ended so parents collected the students and we managed to avoid a mass evacuation up the high hill behind the school, and the second was the collapse of the adventure playground with a whole class on it. There’s  nothing like a bit of drama to encourage team building among an already strong staff. Fortunately there were no serious injuries.

By the weekend I was ready for an escape so headed to Hideaway Island for the day. It had been ten years since I was last there and it was really pleasing to see that even with progress the island had managed to retain its laid-back, no-frills style. The snorkelling was better than I remembered it. Probably a result of it being a marine reserve.

Anxious that I might revert to a sedentary lifestyle here in Vanuatu I joined a yoga group. However it was a bit physical so I decided to try another, gentler session, one where hopefully all I would be asked to do was sleep on the floor. I arrived at the venue. About 10 medical students were also waiting. No instructor arrived. One of the waiters from the restaurant next door came out. No problem...he had a key. He let us in. We found some lights, got the fans working, opened the doors out to the ocean, set up our mats and looked at each other. ‘Does anyone know any yoga?’ someone asked. One by one we all offered something, ‘angry cat’, ‘dog down’ ‘salute to the sun’.... I suggested ‘sleep on the floor’. Everyone thought it was a great idea so that’s what we did when we’d run out of other suggestions. Then we turned off the fans, the lights, shut the door and went and asked the waiter if he could now lock up. I don’t think the gym owners even knew we were there!!!!!

Such success at yoga made me think it was time to try something a little more adventurous. One of the teachers at school teaches paddle boarding. I pictured myself floating around the lagoon, paddling on calm waters in a meditational state. I hadn’t realised it was Paddle boarding Fitness lessons. I’m not fond of ‘F-words’ especially not THAT one. We didn’t even use a paddle till the last ten minutes of the hour-long session. Try to picture yoga/pilates on a surfboard. My core muscles screamed in pain and it got to the stage where I deliberately kept falling in the water as an avoidance tactic and to cool off.

Incidentally, the session was preceded by a rather awkward bus trip. After everyone had been dropped off the driver asked if I would move to the front seat of the bus. I thought he was going to pick up a lot of people on the way. It didn’t take long to realise this was the first in a series of ‘chat up’ lines. He proceeded to tell me he wasn’t married and didn’t like Ni-Van women, only New Zealand woman. I had no idea where I was going and I was so rattled we ‘overshot’ my stop by about a kilometre. He was quite harmless but there was a lesson here. Don’t let anyone know you are single and if you are invited to sit at the front of the bus move to the back as quick as you can!

My Australian friend Susi and I started the first of our Bislama lessons last night. I’ve decided I definitely haven’t got a gift for languages! Bislama is a form of pigeon English and quite easy to decipher if you read it. However after a long day at school and sitting in a room trying to stay cool and concentrate wasn’t conducive to good learning. However, we are providing lots of entertainment for the Kaiviti staff as we practice our Bislama on them!

Well, that’s about it till next time. Now..... I’m going to kill the thousands of ants which seem to have made a home underneath my computer keys. Every time I type about three scurry out. Makes me a bit scared of taking my computer back to New Zealand. I’m going to have to ‘killim dead’ which is apparently different to just ‘killim’.

I’m sorry there are no photos again with this blog. Any photo of me doing yoga  either in a room or on a paddleboard would give you nightmares!

I’ll try to show something ‘scenic’ next time J.

Don’t forget to let me know YOUR news!

Lukim you

Ange

Week One Done

My first week of school at PVIS has finished. What a huge week.  I have a class roll of 32 but fortunately two haven’t  arrived yet. They are an eclectic bunch. For the teachers reading this, the majority are stanine 7,8, 9  (right ‘up there’ to the non-teachers).

The mix of Australian,  American, English,  French, more French and more French all called Leopold, along with Japanese, two identical Chinese boys (not related)  both called Eric, Korean, Ni-Vanuatu and a mix of everything else makes for a really interesting class. I am fast realising that there is NO way I will EVER be able to cater for their individual needs.

It’s going to be really hard work but already I know I am going to love them. They are hungry to learn. I’ve already explained that I was born last century and that they made need to actually teach me and they all seemed happy with that!!!!

I’m still living at the Kaiviti Hotel. I’ve looked at a few other places but none come close. It’s cheap (or should I say as cheap as you can get in this expensive country), includes power, phone,  internet and security, has a great pool, I can walk to the supermarket, town, yoga, church, the dive shop, eat at the restaurant if I want to and I have daily room service.  There are a number of other permanent residents who I like. It just seems rather weird to say I’m living in a hotel.

Another new teacher, Suzy from Australia is here with me and we have heaps of fun. I’ve been so lucky to have her and will be quite sad when she moves into a house at Mele beach when her husband arrives.  Some long term house sitting offers have come in and the Kaiviti will store my stuff free and not charge rent if I’m away. How reasonable is that!

Port Vila is REALLY expensive to live in. If you get a headache it’s $9 for panadol! I shop frugally and mostly at the market. There is no doubt that any visitor is best to find a  package deal with self catering accommodation.

The traffic is horrendous on cruise-ship day which seems to be every second day! It seems as if every Ni-Vanuatu with a van cruises the roads picking up customers. V150 (about A$1.50) to go anywhere.  I’ve learned that the friendly toots are not cos they think you are good looking but asking if you want a ride.. I can’t quite get use to not using seatbelts. I always try to put them on but mostly it’s a waste of time. This afternoon I got a lift with my principal in the front of her son’s ancient land rover. Talk about a squash...no seatbelts...dodging potholes...dodging cars...bouncing along...I’m glad she got to sit on the hand-brake and not me!

I’ve started going to yoga classes. We sit/lie/etc in a beautiful gym with the doors opened wide and watch the sun set as we do our moves. I’m by far the oldest and sweatiest but as long as I don’t see myself in the mirror I feel good being there.

I don’t want to bore anyone so I’ll save my ‘Finding the Faith in Vanuatu”  blog till next week’s blog.

I love hearing from everyone, please don’t feel insulted by a non-personal blog. School has to come first till I’m up and running.

Lukim U long taem

Ange

PS. I've been trying to put photos on this but the files must be too big. I'll drop some onto Facebook if anyone is interested.

Friday Entertainment

If I thought I was coming to Port Vila to slow down the pace of teaching-life I was surely mistaken. It’s been a full-on week and that’s without students! Having been out of the ‘classroom’ for so long and getting to grips with the NSW syllabus has challenged me as I prepare to meet my new class on Tuesday.  Actually, I met half of them and their parents last night at the Beach Club, the Friday night hotspot for many expats, tourists and locals. The club is on a sheltered beach looking across to Hideaway Island. The drinks were expensive (Port Vila prices) the pizza’s delicious (blue vein cheese, apple and leek for me!) and the entertainment well.....very entertaining.

A group of about 20  local unemployed youth have created a fire dance routine which is a mix of modern and traditional styles including rope walking, fire breathing, dance and poi. It broke the mould of the usual tourist fire dances and it was hard not to be ‘touched’ by this group who obviously had worked hard pooling their own ideas with no professional help to create something special. They involved many younger expat children whom they were teaching their skill and even had a final dance (kind of a Port Vila Gangnam style) which everyone joined in. I thought I was going to put out their fire with the amount of sweat created when I danced on the sand, especially as I inadvertently stood right by the big flame thrower! This is a Friday night event which takes place after the Nippers and youth group programmes on the beach so who knows...I might even be a fire dancer yet. One thing for sure...I’ll watch where I stand!

Hmmmm...I'll have to learn how to take decent photos now!!!!!!!!

Welkum. Long taem lukim u.

Welkum. Long taem lukim u

My first week In Vanuatu is nearly over and It’s been a long time since I have done something which feels so right.

There are so many things I love: the gentle romantic lull of French language, the laughter and banter of Ni-Vanuatu on their way to and from work, their ability to pack far more passengers on the tray of their trucks than can possibly be legal, the way they drive on the right hand side of the road or even sometimes on both sides.

Then there is school....the staff are so interesting in themselves and so diverse as teachers. Each one bringing something new to the school from specialist training to Montessori. It appears that Faye selects many of her staff from a gut instinct....and it works.

The word is that my class of 31 Year Six students (Year 7 NZ) is quite an eclectic group ranging from  Aspergers to gifted and talented students  from 10 different countries. Looking at their work from last year it is hard not to be impressed by the standard and quality of work. Maybe a formal approach to teaching is a way to raise standards.   I’ve got a feeling that I will be learning every bit as much as my class this year.

All staff have their own Teacher Assistant. I have a wonderful woman just a bit younger than me called Naomi. She’s been working at the school for 18 years and will probably be able to run my class while I sit in a puddle of sweat wondering how to do the maths. I really like her, especially the way she keeps cleaning up my coffee cups and bringing me buckets of water to wash my hands in! My room is beside the road. The traffic noise isn’t bad but the dust is horrendous. Layer the dust on a coat of sweat and we all go home a dirty shade of brown. Not to worry though...the school is paying for me to stay at the Kaivite Motel for two months so I have room service and can get my washing done for  V1000 (about $10) if I don’t want to do it myself (which I don’t!)

The photo below is the view from my room.

Port Vila is OP-Shop Heaven! Faye, an Op-shop-aholic took Suzy (a new Australian teacher with whom I have become inseparable)  and I on an Op-shop tour after school today. The shops get bags of ‘seconds’ from Australian factories and further afield. I now have a very full wardrobe of labelled clothes including a couple of Laura Ashley dresses which look stunning.  Three dresses, four  blouses/tops and a pair of hippie trousers for  approximately $30. Now I just need to find someone to take me somewhere to wear them! The dresses that is, not the hippie pants!

School officially starts next Monday so all is very casual. The school board is taking all staff to Chantilly’s (very posh) for breakfast on Friday morning to ensure we get the best start possible. I guess after the weekend I’ll find less time to write. And really, it’s not easy to move forward if you keep looking back so....onward I go.

I feel so excited by the possibilities ahead. I couldn’t have done this without the fabulous support of friends and family. I've got a feeling I'm going to be here for much longer than planned!