Fatfat

Most Ni-Vanuatu are fairly slim. You do sometimes see some big mamas or some papas with a gut, but most people are on the smaller side. Especially on the island, there aren't a lot of heavy people. I know some women with two or three children who have the figures of cheerleaders. My school of 70 kids has one teenage girl who's on the chubby side, but I'd say she's within a pretty normal range for puberty.

So in comparison, most of us volunteers are enormous.

The word in Bislama for fat is 'fatfat', and it doesn't really carry the same negative connotation as in the States. If someone calls you fatfat in Vanuatu, it's the same as saying that you're short ... or have a big nose ... or pretty eyes. It's not meant to be an insult but rather a statement of fact. It's like a way to cheek someone a little bit. Sometimes it's even a compliment -- as in the phrase 'oh, yu fatfat gud we.' (You're very nicely fat.) 

Obviously, though, for us it's weird. In America, we don't use fat as a neutral description. It's like it's assumed that if you call someone fat, you're trying to insult them or cast aspersions on their looks. We say that someone is big, or heavy, or overweight, but you don't usually say that someone you like is fat. 

It really used to hurt my feelings when people would call me fatfat, because I'd be just like, come on, that's so mean. Talking like that violates normal American codes of behavior. Now, it doesn't so much, especially as I've come to realize that only the very thinnest volunteers have escaped being dubbed fatfat. There are some volunteers with great figures who've been told by people on their islands 'you are so fat.' So that makes me feel better about being, you know, colossally gigantic. 

I do still feel like it's rude, but I wonder if Ni-Vans don't have the right idea. In America, it seems like a lot of women are really concerned with their bodies, and a lot of attention is devoted in the media and in education to developing healthy body images. The only time I've heard anyone in Vanuatu sound concerned about how they looked was a friend who was worried her new boyfriend might not like how her stomach looked (because she'd had a baby the year before and her stomach wasn't flat anymore). Maybe in America we all need to just chill out about being fatfat. No worries, yumi evriwan i fatfat lelebet, laef i olsem nomo.

Decisions, Decisions

My goal in writing this blog was mostly to present a picture of what goes on as a PCV to people at home. I remember when I realized that I was going to be doing PC here, I read everyone's blog I could find. It was really helpful for me to see pictures and read posts, even though I definitely didn't know then that literally everything depends. 

Some people work in offices. Most people don't.

Some people are super tight with their host families, have babies named after them, are bridesmaids and babysitters and so on. Some volunteers actually don't relate very well with local people and act like shut-ins.

Some people drink tons of kava all the time. Some people are not into that.

Some volunteers have electricity and cold showers. Some have electricity and hot showers. Some have nothing but well water from a bucket.

Some people have markets; some people have banks; some people are close to airports and have lots of ships that service their islands.

Some people basically sit around on mats eating breadfruit all the time.

I'm thinking about extending for another year. I'm not sure if I'm going to do it yet, but I would like to. What to me is most interesting is that I have had one specific style of experience and I could have a different one. 

I'm really glad to have had the Tongariki experience and to know that, short of going to do Pis Kop Matthew Island and teach English to the seagulls, I've had a seriously legitimate bush experience. I only very, very rarely imagine what my life would be like if it was more off the edge of the map. I live out in Tongariki by myself without all of the creature comforts that I've learned I don't really need.

It would be exciting, though, to do something else. I feel really constrained by circumstances sometimes and I'd like to feel like I could not have to worry about transportation or materials or timing. I would like to never, ever, ever again have to do worst case scenario stuck on Efate budget calculations. I'd like to have a job where I felt like my talents were being used and I could put more energy into it. Teaching isn't it for me. I don't dislike being in the classroom here and I think I would like it in the States more, if I had the freedom (and the resources) to have a really creative, material-rich class. But right now I'm looking into different opportunities. I don't want to say yet what I'm thinking because I haven't signed anything yet, but it would be a great opportunity and really, really different. If Tongariki is like AMANDA RUSSELL: CLUSTER OF ONE this would be more like AR: C o PLENTY. My lifestyle would be really different. I keep joking oh, extend to the Torres, but really this place would be great and interesting.

This place

I love Vanuatu so much. It’s funny; sometimes my friends and I joke that being at site is like being in prison, because you sit … and wait … but overall Vanuatu is an incredible, wonderful place. Confession time: I wasn’t that excited when I received my invitation. I thought: Vanuatu. Vanu-what? I didn’t really know where it was, I didn’t think that being in the South Pacific sounded that great … I could hit my old self over the head.

Living here, I put up with a certain amount of deprivation, but there’s so much that makes up for everything. I like the sunshine, I like the relaxed pace, I like how friendly everyone is, I like feeling like I’m doing good things and enjoying myself. I like how connected I feel to the community I live in. I just like it here. I think back to how I sometimes felt in college -- and it wasn't anything big, but I just felt so constrained. Everything was so regimented, there was no time for freedom or adventure. I'm glad I got the education that I did, but I get so much more satisfaction doing projects and working than I did studying. Doesn't everyone say that, though? I do miss feeling intellectually stimulated--I learned new things all the time at CMU, whereas here, I don't get quite the same amount of stuff. But I love it here and I don't want to leave quite yet. I love feeling like I am doing things that I can actually see. 

Which is good because ... I'm not leaving! That's all I can say for now.

FEELINGS POST

I’m heading back to Tongariki tonight on the cargo ship. It’s sort of a bittersweet moment realizing that this is my second year teaching out there. Time has gone so quickly.

On the one hand, Tongariki is an incredible place. My host parents are amazing. Everyone is so kind and friendly towards me. My life, at times, feels like I’m just in a tropical island paradise. And it all happened just because of coincidence—I applied at X time, I took Y number of months to make it all the way through my medical and legal clearance, so I left at Z time, to go to Vanuatu. What if I’d applied earlier? Would I be freezing in Mongolia right now? I mostly can’t believe how lucky I am to be here.

On the other hand, I had it confirmed that there will not be another volunteer in the Shepherds in the next group. That means that it’s just me now. Last year, I was on an island by myself, but I had Monica an hour away and Stephanie four hours away, so I didn’t feel quite as alone. Now it’s for real—the nearest volunteers are going to be an overnight ship away from me. That’s alone. I have the community to support me and I don’t usually feel lonely out there. But it’s a little intimidating to realize that this is where I’m at, now.

I’ve spent the weekend since coming back from Fiji finishing a water project grant, getting supplies for a map project, and buying all the things I think I’ll need for the next five months. Five months. Nowadays when I go shopping, it all feels different—I guess how much of everything I might need and want. I’ve got 30 rolls of toilet paper, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, soap, bleach, oatmeal, lentils, vinegar, tea, tuna fish, notebooks, new towels, laundry soap, and that’s about it. If I need anything else, I’ll have to ask someone to pick it up for me in town. How weird is that? And I don’t feel like I can come back in the middle of the term because I’m going to be teaching class 6 this term as their real, full time teacher. I can’t abandon them just to get some more snacks, you know?

I feel like everything just got turned up a notch, and I am excited, but nervous, too. This has been such a real, exhilarating, weird and sometimes just depressing and demoralizing experience. It’s been a real trip and I’m looking forward to seeing where else this takes me. I know that the second I’ll get back on Tongariki, I’ll feel better. It’s my home. I had a pretty lousy month back in September, and the second I got back to Tongariki, I felt like all of that was behind me. And it’s time to go back and get back to work—I’ve been away a long time. It’s hard, too, though, knowing that I have these challenges that even a lot of other volunteers can’t really empathize with. I guess this is just mid service mixed feelings—my life is so good and so bad and so weird, all at the same time.  I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.

I’m going to set a few blog posts to automatically update while I’m gone, but I don’t think I’ll be back in town before the end of May. Lukim yufala evriwan—it’s going to be an adventure.

(Me and my dad at the national museum. Adios!)