Flying Angel: Vanuatu, the Happiest Country You Never Heard of !
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About this ebook
Nelleke Meuzelaar
The author was born and raised in The Netherlands, where she obtained a BA in Education. In 1978 she moved to the US with her husband and three children. They now live off-the-grid, in a log home overlooking Palisades Lake, Idaho, 2 hours from the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone.
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Flying Angel - Nelleke Meuzelaar
Copyright © 2015 by Nelleke Meuzelaar. 705428
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-5035-5285-2
EBook 978-1-5035-5284-5
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Rev. date: 05/13/2015
Xlibris
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CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Ch 1 - CALL US CRAZY!
Ch 2 - A TRIP FROM HELL
Ch 3 - TIMES MEETS TANGO
Ch 4 - TROUBLE IN THE GREAT BARRIER REEF
Ch 5 - AN IMPROBABLE VOYAGE
Ch 6 - NOW WHAT?
Ch 7 - PROJECT MARC IS BORN!
Ch 8 - FLYING ANGEL, A FLOATING CLINIC
Ch 9 - J’ARRIVE’S SOLO DEPARTURE
Ch 10 - UNDER AMBRYM’S SPELL
Ch 11 - INTO THE JUNGLE
Ch 12 - A SIGHT TO BEHOLD
Ch 13 - RIVENDEL II, OUR HOME AWAY FROM HOME
Ch 14 - MAKING FRIENDS ON MALAKULA
Ch 15 - VANUATU KASTOM AND BLACK MAGIC
Ch 16 - JAKE AND LUCY’S KASTOM WEDDING
Ch 17 - ENTERING THE REEF LABYRINTH
Ch 18 - SIOME AND RANUI TO THE RESCUE
Ch 19 - A CLOSE CALL ON FRIDAY THE 13TH
Ch 20 - THE HAPPIEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD
EPILOGUE
SAILING LINGO
BISLAMA MINI-DICTIONARY
ASSISTING VESSELS
MAJOR DONORS AND SPONSORS
VOLUNTEER TEAM MEMBERS
Fig%2001%20=%20pg%202.tifThis book is for our children Annette and Steve, Tom and Melissa, Pete and Marilee
(and for their children and for theirs…..).
It is dedicated to my husband, Henk, my best friend, biggest fan and editor-in-chief.
He designed the cover and the collages. Without him this book wouldn’t be what it is!
PROLOGUE
FLYING ANGEL is the story of ten years of humanitarian assistance expeditions in the South Pacific archipelagos of Vanuatu and (briefly) Tuvalu, as well as of the challenging ocean sailing voyages that brought us there.
During those years I needed to update our friends and family members as well as the many people and organizations that supported Project MARC (Medical Assistance to Remote Communities). Since there was no other means of communication, especially during the first years of the project, I wrote monthly trip reports, which were emailed whenever we dropped anchor in Port Vila with -- back then -- the one and only email café in all of Vanuatu. I kept the writing up till the very end, some fifty Project MARC trip reports in all.
What at first was a burden, on top of an already daunting workload, soon became a pleasure that I looked forward to. The stories we encountered were so incredible and moving, the volunteers we recruited almost without exception so inspiring and hardworking, that I couldn’t wait to work on the next report. Quite a few of the recipients reported back that the stories touched them and motivated them to participate as a volunteer or contribute in some other way. This greatly encouraged me and warmed my heart.
A few short paragraphs with facts about Vanuatu follow below to give the reader a rough idea of the environment and circumstances we worked in.
Starting in 1906 Vanuatu was officially colonized by both France and England and therefore called New Hebrides Condominium
as well as Condominium des Nouvelle Hebrides
. In 1980, following the example of many other Pacific island nations, The New Hebrides became an independent republic changing its name to Vanuatu, meaning Land Eternal
. Vanuatu’s inhabitants are called Ni Vanuatu
, or NiVans
for short. They are mostly of Melanesian descent with Polynesian influences on some islands.
Vanuatu’s earliest inhabitants, thought to have migrated from Micronesia, practiced cannibalism, as did many other South Pacific islanders at that time. As a result, some of the first missionaries arriving during the 1800s were unfortunately eaten
. Many more died from malaria but slowly the missionaries were able to convince the people of their good intentions; i.e. wanting to bring the good news
. The last reported act of (intertribal) cannibalism in Vanuatu is said to have occurred on the island of Malakula in 1969. Today’s NiVans, a large percentage of who are Christians, are rather embarrassed about this particular aspect of their history but can see the humor
of it as well.
The 1980 independence threw Vanuatu’s rural island villages back into the dark ages
with regard to communication, transportation, electric power sources, healthcare and educational support. Financial assistance from France and England soon dried up and NiVan workers lacked training and skills in many crucial areas. Schools and hospitals built by the French and the English no longer received supplies. Churches built by missionaries no longer received support. Small fishing boats with outboards could no longer be used for lack of knowledge of how to repair the engines. Hospitals were deserted for lack of skilled personnel and medical supplies. Local pastors felt lost and forgotten.
At present the Vanuatu archipelago has an estimated two hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants, most of which live in rural areas. The country counts ninety-six islands, fourteen of which are inhabited.
Almost ninety-five percent of the Ni Vanuatu is Christian. The main denominations on the outer islands are Presbyterian, Roman Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist and NTM (Neil Thomas Ministries). On the two most populous islands, Efate and Espiritu Santo, LDS churches are established as well. The country’s logo, printed on the national flag is Long God yumi stanap
(In God we stand).
The official language of Vanuatu is Bislama, a mostly English- based lingua franca or pidgin
language. French or English is spoken on many islands, depending on which missionaries landed there first. People are able to speak Bislama if they have had the chance to go to school; otherwise they speak their local kastom
(traditional) language originating in the island village where they live. Vanuatu knows an estimated total of one hundred-fifteen local languages.
On the main island of Efate where the capital of Port Vila and the central government are located, the post-independence situation remained slightly better than on the outer islands. Port Vila boasts an international airport and has a yacht harbor as well as a commercial harbor. The main income is from tourism. Vanuatu receives most international aid from Australia and New Zealand, with support from China on the rise.
Most Ni Vanuatu living on the outer islands call themselves subsistence farmers
, meaning that they produce their own food. Copra, kava and cacao are the main sources of income. The islands of Ambrym, Vao and Tongoa count many wood carvers who derive their main income from selling their beautiful exotic products.
During the years we worked in Vanuatu, primary schools were not supported by the government and charged fees ranging from two to twenty US dollars per child per term. Secondary schools are private boarding schools with fees between three hundred and one thousand dollars per term. I am delighted to report that the primary schools are now government-supported and school fees are a thing of the past. I have my doubts about the logistics of this new law, but it is a great initiative.
A national health care system was established with the aid of the Australian government. Every province has a hospital and the main island Efate has the big
hospital. Directly below the hospitals are the health centers in which an NP, a nurse and a midwife are employed. The simplest forms of healthcare are the dispensaries, supposed to have a government-trained nurse, and the village aid posts with trained aid post workers also known as village healthcare workers.
Many doctors in the two national hospitals, one in Port Vila and one in Luganville, are expats
(foreigners working and/or living in Vanuatu) often of Chinese origin, with occasional additions from New Zealand and Australia. Most Chinese doctors speak little or no English or, for that matter, Bislama. Port Vila has a training school for nurses but it is next to impossible to be admitted, unless one has exceptional references and/or connections.
The requirements to become an aid post worker, as listed on page 1 of the Aid Post Worker handbook, are: approval from the village, 18 years of age, preferably male (girls get married and move away from their island) six years of primary school and passing the exam for aid post worker. Combined with the fact that the exam has to be taken in one of the hospitals, which requires travel, the number of NiVans that meet all the requirements is very small.
The hospital in Vila receives supplies occasionally but is in a poor state of repair and maintenance, while chronically lacking key equipment and supplies. During the time Project MARC worked on the outer islands, bandages in Vila Hospital often had to be re-used (after washing and drying) and so were the surgical masks. The small hospitals we visited on the outer islands were in worse shape.
But for the tourist these facts are unknown and invisible and Port Vila is stunningly beautiful. The water is turquoise, surrounded by white sand beaches and colored by incredible sunsets. Hideaway Island has the most incredible snorkeling one can imagine and the world’s only underwater post office. The waterfalls, a short distance out of town, are equally spectacular. There is a French bakery with exquisite pastries and there are restaurants with delightful food. But Vanuatu’s best asset by far is its people who are always smiling and seemingly happy.
Through the narrow streets maneuvers an army of taxi drivers trying to make a living. Taxis are always available, doors falling out of the hinges, windows missing, fabric missing from the seats and colorful plastic flowers hanging from the ceiling and in front of the windows. Many drivers, often with a beer in hand and a big smile, proudly sport a T shirt with the writing Mi Lovem Jisas
.
After signing a Memorandum of Understanding with the Vanuatu government we were asked by the Ministry of Health to carry out Project MARC in special areas on the islands of Ambrym, Malakula, Maskelynes and Espiritu Santo. The areas in question had neither airstrips nor harbors and had been hard to reach for government officials after Vanuatu’s Independence. It was a pleasure to work with the highly educated and very knowledgeable people at the Ministry of Health. Though they worked on island time
, which took some adjusting on my part, they gave us their full attention plus the cooperation needed to operate Project MARC.
After our retirement from Project MARC, and from ocean sailing in November of 2008, many people urged me to write a book so that the stories would not be lost. It has taken me three years of writing, re-reading, bundling and sorting (but mostly gathering the courage) to do so.
This little book is the result of sweat, tears, pain, love, faith and -- above all -- God’s grace.
Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it.
(Hebrews 13, vs 1 & 2)
CHAPTER 1
CALL US CRAZY!
My husband Henk is crazy..... and I have always been crazy enough to share his outrageous adventures and have sometimes even encouraged him. He asks me to marry him in 1964 and my heartfelt yes
is partially because of that. I like it that he is not a conformist, but does have many, to say the least, original
ideas.
Adventure is already planted into my being when I am a young child. My father takes me and my three siblings on what, for those days, are crazy trips. Nobody goes on vacations right after World War II, but WE DO! My father transforms old bikes into what we think are sparkling new ones and we pedal for three days to our vacation destination. We sleep in the hay lofts of farms, with mice running around. Though the mice aren’t exactly my favorite part of the adventure, to a city kid like me, all of the above, plus eggs fresh from the chicken and milk just from the cows is very exciting! .
During our engagement years, Henk and I undertake a trip to the Zillerthaler Alps in Austria with very primitive equipment. My backpack is an old military one, the worn straps replaced by inner tires from an old bike. Our hiking boots
are sturdy gym shoes and our budget is barely big enough to afford the high-calorie mountain climber menu
offered in the mountain huts, where we sleep on hay bales. Nothing about this trip is easy: I am as far out of my comfort zone as I can be and for the first time ever in the mountains, I discover to my dismay that I have a fear of heights! But the adventure has taken a hold of us, the adrenalin is raging and the beauty of the mountains breathtaking and after a few days I put my fear of heights on the backburner. I have the time of my life, but most important is that we seem to have met each other’s match, feel we are soulmates.
I finish my teachers college and Henk finishes his medical studies a few years later. For three years I work as a school teacher and after that I deviate from my career
by finding all kinds of teaching related jobs, varying from being a PE teacher and a Sunday school teacher to a music teacher and being the vice president of a school board. Henk works as an army doctor and locum tenens for general practitioners in Amsterdam for a few years and then comes home one day with the question: would you mind if I took a job at a physics laboratory?
He explains that he has exciting plans for some specific research that no one else in the whole wide world has ever done. And Oh yeah
the salary will be less than half of what he would be earning as an MD..... Honestly, I don’t mind. He looks so excited that I am just happy for him.
Our parents unanimously disapprove of our choices: that was NOT what they sent us to school for and what they are so proud of. However, early on we decide that these are our
lives and approval or not, we want to make a difference, a scratch to be remembered by
as of course all young people want to do!
Ten years of marriage and three kids later, we have rubbed everybody a bit wrong by not working a job as a teacher or a medical doctor, by driving an old Landrover (instead of a status symbol
car), and by spending our vacation either driving off-road with the Rover or cruising around on our beloved Rivendel
, a used American brand houseboat that we have bought.
In 1976 Henk spends four weeks in the United States to give lectures at several universities that have invited him. A day before his return, a postcard arrives from Salt Lake City, Utah. Scribbled on the empty half is: I can get a job here... wanna come...?
Of course my first reaction is: whaaaat... where.....are you nuts.....!
But something has stirred inside me and I know how bored Henk is with the outlook of a secured research group and a tenured position for the rest of his life. I quickly debate within myself whether or not, with my background, I can always get a job in the USA if necessary, and add longingly that the skiing must be fabulous over there. Our poor children are given the chance to have an honest
vote as well: we strongly encourage them to ask questions about their possible new homeland. Peter, our six- year- old, asks about the availability of ice cream. Tom, eight years old, inquires about swimming pools and Annette, twelve, wonders if she would even have to