An Unwelcoming Reception

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Today, we will travel beyond the northern tip of Grand Terre to the Belep Islands. In 10-knot winds from astern, with a blue sky sprinkled with white puffy clouds, we languorously sail across the Great Northern Lagoon. The Captain is in his corner reading, and The First Mate is in hers knitting. Each regularly raises a head to look around and check our progress. Nothing is near us. So used to seeing small local fishing boats, we are surprised that, after the tempestuous winds and seas of the last several days, no fishermen are out attempting to replenish their larders on this gloriously calm day.

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In New Zealand, weather forecasts talk about “fine spells” as in “It will be mostly cloudy, some rain, with periods of fine spells expected.” Though we don’t understand much of the French language weather forecasts, the weather pattern is the same. Mostly cloudy, some drizzle, lots of wind and occasional “fine spells” where the clouds lighten up enough to allow some blue sky and a determined sun to appear. The morning had started out under a fine spell, but by the time we were abeam Les Trois Soeurs, grey skies were predominant. The overcast remained heavy and increasingly foreboding by the time we anchored off Ile Drauac, a red dirt mound of an island.

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Sunday, June 9th – Wind bullets pummeled us all last night. Right now, The First Mate is thinking that a calm night at anchor with no wind just may not happen up here. Even the calm that usually greets a new day has disappeared. Instead we wake up to wind, grey skies and rain. We hunker down for the morning, and then as things begin to lighten up, we set sail for the village of Waala on the next island. We are in the Iles Belep. There are no tourist facilities here and little evidence of the French. This is Kanak land, and here tribal customs have remained strong. We should follow La Coutume when we come ashore. This is a custom similar to the Fijian welcoming ceremony of Sevusevu. To the chief of the village, we present simple gifts like yards of cloth, articles of clothing, rice, flour or other food item ….. really whatever one has that would be useful, and, of course, money is always appreciated. In exchange for our donations of friendship, the chief will welcome us into the village and give us access to the surrounding area if we want to swim, to fish or to hike. There is no fast rule that says we must do La Coutume anymore than there was in Fiji, but it is a way of showing respect and honoring the culture of these people. We gladly do it and look forward to meeting whomever we happen to meet.

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People are milling about and several groups of children are playing along the shoreline, but nobody comes out to greet us. We smile to whomever we catch their eye and wave to the children, but we receive minimal response or sometimes, none at all. It feels like they are looking right through us. Have we or are we doing something wrong? No one seems to want to acknowledge our presence. Are we invisible? Some kind of pariah? We walk on. Under a large covered picnic area, it looks like the village has just finished a church potluck. People are sitting in groups talking. Some look to be leaving. We ask one young man where the chief is so we can offer La Coutume. Totally uninterested, he merely points in the general direction of the picnic area.

When walking up from the beach, The First Mate had picked up a broken piece of glass. Walking over to a garbage container, she asks a woman sitting next to it if it would be okay drop it in. The woman shrugs and nods a go ahead. Feeling somewhat rebuffed, The First Mate drops in the shard and makes a quick retreat. The Captain, aka: the Bubble Man, has his pockets full of Bubble bottles and wands. He is ready for the first child, but none of the children appear to be noting our presence. Could they honestly be purposely avoiding contact? This is not the typical behavior of island children. What a strange and very different reception from the type one receives in Fijian villages or, frankly, from any other village on any other island nation! There, the kids are on you before you have the boat out of the water, eager to help or just plain excitedly curious. The adults are more reticent, but they always warmly smile a greeting.

The First Mate recalls one time when upon coming ashore at a Fijian village to do Sevesevu, a young man met us as we stepped on land. He apologized and said this was not a good time because someone had just died in the village. We gave him our condolences and made a hasty retreat. This village behavior wasn’t anything like that, for the people were dressed colorfully and appeared to be sitting around happily socializing. It looked like a great time for us to make a social call, but obviously it wasn’t or it wasn’t wanted. All we can postulate is that:

• it was Sunday and not a good time for visitors

• they thought we were French and weren’t about to be social ever

• they find cruisers, in general, a nuisance and intrusion

Needless to say, we did not get far in our stroll through this village. Turning around and heading back to the dinghy, we are surprised that nobody called out or stopped us. Back on Avante, we discuss going ashore again in the morning. The First Mate remains hopeful that maybe a villager in one of the many small boats along the shore will motor out to us to say hello, for she would love to talk to some of the people and see their village.

At 1730, as The Captain is setting up the Baby Q, he announces that there is a motor boat coming in from offshore. The First Mate scrambles topside. Waving like a maniac to show she’s a friendly, she is delighted when all 4 young men on board wave back. Ah, someone acknowledges us! One fellow even proudly holds up a good sized fish they had caught. Thumbs up from The Captain and mad clapping from The First Mate. Laughing, they motor on to shore, and The First Mate feels much better.

NOTE: An internet search for Belep Islands revealed the following information. In 1892, the French turned the main island into a leper colony and forcefully removed all the people to another island. As can be imagined, none of the Kanaks were happy about being removed from their ancestral homes. Being uprooted, learning how to live in a new environment, establishing new homes, the people suffered greatly. In 1898, the leper colony was no more. The Kanaks were allowed to return to their former homes, except for one large section of land owned by a colonial and worked as a copra plantation. It was not until 1950 that the Kanaks were able to “buy” back this land. Life here is truly subsistence. Education only goes to the age of 12. A child wanting more must be boarded somewhere on Grand Terre. A huge percentage of the population cannot read, and many have not bothered to learn French. To this day, the resentment toward the French or any white person in general is rampant.

What arrogant injustice all us colonizing nations have done to the people who truly owned the land before our arrival! The First Mate grew up with stories of the “savage” American Indian, of massacres on both sides, and of forced uprooting from ancestral lands with the new boundaries often redrawn again and again when the land given them become too valuable. She lives in the west and regularly drives from Scottsdale to Telluride through dirt-poor Indian reservation land. She knew on a certain level what had transpired, but she honestly never truly took it to heart until these travels across the Pacific Islands. The wrongs done by us so called civilized, Christian peoples can never be righted, but where do we all go from here? She does not know, but, at least, aboard Avante, we now have some idea of what possibly was behind our dour reception there in Waala.

For other reasons, which will be described in the next blog, we did not return in the morning, but we wish that we had done so, met that chief and done La Coutume. Perhaps we could have broken through their reserve. We cannot redo that day, but who knows what could have been? It will remain a frustrating mystery.