More tales of the South Pacific
By Jimm Budd
Remember that chain of gorgeous islands James Michener wrote about in his World War II novel, “Tales of the South Pacific?” Or maybe you got a taste of the islands in the Broadway musical adapted from the book, or in the movie adapted from the musical.
Local tourism officials want Boomers to know that a vacation destination described by Michener as “lovely beyond description” awaits them in Vanuatu, as the independent nation of some 80 islands is now called.
Until 1980, the chain of white-sand islands was a jointly governed French-British possession known as the New Hebrides. The Tricolor and the Union Jack flew side by side. Bobbies and gendarmes together patrolled the streets of Port Villa, the deceptively modern capital. Tourists in trouble with the law could choose who would detain them. They say the toilets in the British jail were cleaner but French prisoners were served wine with their meals.
Port Villa is the big city on Efate, an island noted for its luxurious beachfront hotels, its duty-free shops and fine restaurants in town.
Gourmet dishes, to be sure, include fare not found elsewhere. Grilled flying fox is considered quite a delicacy. Flying fox in reality is a large bat. Then there is crab pate obtained from the intestine of the landlubber coconut crab.
Beyond, life is a little more primitive. While soccer football is played, uniforms are limited to a sheath covering the private parts of the all-male players, different colored sheaths for different teams. It will be interesting if Vanuatu ever qualifies for the World Cup.
During World War II, the Americans set up a huge base on the island of Espirito Santo (the Spaniards got out this way early in the 17th century, named the island but never stayed), half-a-million men swarming into an archipelago where only 100,000 people lived.
The American base, really a city with the best roads in the islands, electricity, plumbing – unheard of in those parts until then – a telephone system and 42 cinemas, was literally pushed into the sea when the war ended. The British and the French did not want to take it over and the Americans decided it would be pointless to ship home all those Jeeps, trucks, cables and prefabricated buildings.
The dumping gave rise to a “cargo cult” on Tanna, another island where the people await cargo drops from airplanes and worship Jon Frum. Jon Frum, anthropologists speculate, may originally have been “Johnny from America.”
The old men on Tanna tell about how back when they were young the gods arrived on Espiritu Santo, bringing with them great prosperity. They swooped down from the air, traveled about without the need of animals, talked to each other over great distances without shouting, illuminated rooms without using fire, and when they wanted food, reached in a box and there it was.
But, the story goes, the gods were saddened by the wickedness of the islanders and departed, hurling all the marvels they had brought with them into the sea. Today on Tanna people pray for the gods to return and bring back prosperity. Meanwhile, they seek comfort with kava, the islands' homemade booze. Kava is produced from a root, and in a curious manner. Women beyond childbearing age chew it up, spit it out and mix the pulp with water.
Only men are allowed to drink the kava cocktail. I doubt that any women want to.
Kava is said to produce a trance-like state. The men who imbibe sit like stones, not helping much around the house, but not causing any trouble, either. When their wives need them for one chore or another, they hide the kava. Or so I was told.
More info: Visit the Vanuatu Tourism Office at www.vanuatu.travel.