During most of the 20th century, the island chain of Vanuatu (then called New Hebrides) was governed jointly by the French and British, resulting in a chaotic assemblage of public infrastructure. Driving on either side of the road was fine, for example. Following a nationalistic movement in the 1970s, the people gained independence in 1980.
Most of the natives are now trilingual, speaking English, French, and Bislama--a form of pidgin English that has become standardized. Example: tank yu tumas (thank you very much).
Vanuatu gained some attention in 2006 when a global survey ranked them the happiest place on the planet. I was immediately suspicious of this label upon arrival, as I surveyed muddy streets wrecked with potholes and homes made from random bits of discarded industrial waste. Jeremy echoed my thoughts, expressing sadness over the poverty. But then I thought again. I contemplated the constant warmth and paradise beaches; I studied the land that practically erupts in bananas, coconuts, and mangoes. Then I looked at their faces and I realized: They’re perfectly fine. Life expectancy is 70, and many live into their 90s. Their physical needs are met, and they lack many of the stresses in our modern life burdened by material demands. In fact, I only started to feel bad for them again when I noticed that Digicel had managed to market cell phones to a good many of the population. Mark my words: this is the beginning of the end.
Streets echo with jokes, laughter, and general hootin’ and hollerin'. Passing drivers always honk or wave. Most locals, when passing a tourist on the sidewalk will give a warm smile and hello. Hotel and restaurant employees are eager to please, but not for tips, as tipping does not fit their cultural ideals.
Subsistence agriculture and village life are readily observable just outside town. While waiting in the airport to fly from one island to another, we noticed a sack on the floor in which was stuffed a chicken, with its head and tail feathers protruding. We assumed it was dead, until it turned its head and blinked. The bag was tagged with the airline’s red carry-on baggage sticker. Another time, as we ca-clunked down a dirt road on a tour, we passed a woman carrying something large and furry in a basket on her head. I spent several seconds trying to identify the item, when, just as our van passed her, I realized in horror that it was the head of cow. Our native driver smirked, “That will make a nice lunch today.” The woman looked up to see four white tourists doing 180s in their seats with gaping mouths. She waved and laughed uproariously as we sailed past.
Lastly, I would like to let you know that the people of Vanuatu invented bungee jumping, and this is no joke. On the island of Pentecost, young men participate in a ritual called the gol, in which they tie (carefully measured) vines to their ankles and dive to the ground from 30-meter wooden towers. This heart-stopping practice both ushers a boy into manhood and ensures a good yam harvest.
Please enjoy my photo gallery below. Perhaps you will be infected with the magical Ni Van happiness.
