Robyn has a life-long friend from Minneapolis, who married a Brit and now lives in Britain. She, in turn, has a niece who is half British and half ni-Vanuatu (that’s what the locals here call themselves). This niece — Serah is her name — has been attending University in Britain, but is home in Vanuatu right now. She lives in the little village of Mele, not far from where we are now in Port Vila. We met her Saturday, and had Sunday lunch with her family yesterday.
How we found her deserves a telling. There was a charity horse race sponsored by the local Kiwanis club Saturday near Mele. A local event, it sounded interesting. We had been having difficulty contacting Serah, but managed to get a message to her uncle that morning that we would be at the horse races. He said she would come out there looking for us, that we should wait at the gate, and that Serah was tall and light-skinned (half British) with curly dark hair. Robyn wore a bright orange T-shirt for Serah to seek (that, with a white face in a sea of black ones was distinctive). So, we went out there Saturday morning and found that one of the gate tenders actually knew Serah, and said he would watch for her. We went on in, but after the first two races, we were ready to leave. Serah hadn’t shown up yet, so we got a ride to her village, and asked the first person we saw if they knew Serah. “Oh, yes. Go down this street, take the third left, and ask someone for further directions.” We did. “Oh, yes. Go down to where you see the laundry drying on a line, and ask someone for further directions.” We did. The next person was tall and light-skinned, with curly dark hair, and lit up when she saw Robyn’s T-shirt. We had a very nice visit, met some of her many relatives, and had some local food before catching a bus back to Port Vila. Serah’s mother invited us back for Sunday lunch.
Mele is a small village, where pigs and mangy dogs roam the dirt lanes, and the small houses are a mix of cement, corrugated metal, and thatch. Many floors are dirt, and are covered with mats, finely woven from pandanus leaves. Everyone seems to know everyone, and everyone is very friendly. One young man called out to us, “Thank you for visiting our village.”
We caught a bus up there again Sunday morning, arriving at Serah’s house — I should say her extended family’s group of houses — amid a croud of her relatives preparing various foods for lunch. Men tending several rather large dutch ovens simmering chicken; four women preparing platters of salad. Another, a huge bowl of a sort of spicy coleslaw. Two other women grating coconut meat to squeeze for coconut milk to go in the rice. Etc, with all of the cooked dishes being done over open fires.
We were a little early, so we went for a stroll, stopped by the church where some big conference was getting underway, and wandered around the village a bit. Then we just hung around, watching the preparations, meeting some of the family. Serah wasn’t around yet; turns out she was in the church service. At one point, Serah’s mother presented Robyn with a handmade dress like all the other women were wearing, and a bit later presented me with a brightly colored shirt, also hand made. No explanation, though. Later, we found that this was a family tradition with visitors. Then we sat down with the family at a very long table for a nice meal of local dishes. Serah showed up, and we had another nice visit. Just before leaving back to Port Vila, Serah’s mother presented us with one of their woven mats, a special, ornate one. We were quite taken aback. It was a pleasure, as well as a cultural experience, to be included in the family like that.
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