Going Native in Vanuatu — Dance of the Small Nambas
As one travels north up the chain of islands that comprise the nation of Vanuatu, the adherence to ancient customs grows stronger. The further one is removed from the two towns of Port Vila and Luganville or the deeper one ventures inland on these isolated islands, the more one will find that following custom is the way of life. The First Mate hears that there are tribes on these isolated islands that still go around in native dress or undress. They want little or nothing to do with the outside world. She learns that the last recorded act of cannibalism was in 1969, but since then, several people have ventured into the jungles of these islands and not been heard from again. There are even some tribes that have yet to see a white man’s face. She finds all of this hard to believe, and as much as she would like to learn the truth, she knows she is not going to be the one to search it out. She does not want to be the first white face an isolated tribe sees nor does she want to end up a 21st century addition to the evening meal — if per chance any of the rumors are true!
In the villages, pigs remain the local currency between individuals and tribes, and the more of them one possesses, the richer one is thought to be. Women are possessions. Pigs and yams are the bride price. Magic is widespread and practiced throughout the islands. Though Christian missionaries made their inroads and brought about significant changes, she soon discovers that many of the tribes have evolved a balancing act of one foot in Christianity and the other firmly planted in their ancient customs. She has seen aspects of this balancing act across the Pacific, but no where else has it been so prevalent and obvious.
Wednesday, June 6th – After a leisurely morning, we pick up anchor and motor from Port Sandwich to Banam Bay, a short distance up the coast on Malakula Island. As we round the point and the bay begins to open up before us, the masts of three sailboats at anchor come into view. We motor through the pass. Two of the boats we know: Summer Sky and Pacific Rose. As we anchor, Cindy and Jim from Summer Sky swing over in their dinghy to say hello. They are heading ashore to talk to the chief of the local village about putting on a native dance performance. Would we be interested? Sure!
The Captain goes off snorkeling, and The First Mate remains on the boat because that blister on her foot is still open. Cindy and Jim return with the news that they found the chief, and for a price of approximately $20 per person, his village will put on a dance for us tomorrow at either 9:00am or 3:00pm. We opt for 9:00 rather than 3:00, the hottest time of the day. Cindy and Jim question why The First Mate is not out snorkeling. She shows them her foot, and instead of being “Pooh-poohed” as she had secretly hoped, Jim tells her that he’d be out of the water too if his foot looked like that. “Just super!” she thinks. She laments about how long it is taking to heal, and they suggest she try this stuff called Liquid Bandaid. Does she have some? In the medical kit, she does. They say that it works better than bandaids at protecting and stimulating the wound to heal. When they leave to head off to Pacific Rose to explain the details of tomorrow’s dance, she goes below to wash the foot and apply Liquid Bandaid. It can’t hurt, and she’s running out of bandaids anyway.
Malakula Island is the home
of the Big Nambas and the Small Nambas. What’s a Namba? It’s a
penis-sheath made out of banana or pandanus leaves. The Big Nambas used
to live inland on a plateau and were once feared for their constant
warfare. They would go on the war path, invade a neighboring tribe,
kill a few, carry them off and celebrate with a fine meal afterwards.
The warfare has ceased, the tribe has moved down to the coast, but their
name remains. Big Nambas sport large red-leafed penis sheaths. The
Small Nambas used to live in isolated villages deep in the jungle. As a
result, they were some of the last to be introduced to Christianity and
European ways, and many of them to this day keep to their ancient
customs. The sheaths of Small Nambas are less flamboyant. Made out of
banana leaves, they are also smaller.
Both groups have discovered that their traditional, ceremonial dance routines are a cash crop. Cruise boats and adventure travel agencies book tours, and for a fee, they will also put on their dances for us yachties. There will be 7 of us. Cindy and Jim from Summer Sky, Heiki and Brian with Tim, their crewman, from Pacific Rose, and Susan and Bill from Avante.
Thursday, June 7th – We meet on shore at 8:45. We are 6. Crewman Tim decided not to join the group. The head he had been using on the boat had backed up this morning. (familiar story?) The cause: Pamplemouse seeds! They had a lot of these delicious grapefruit on board, and instead of removing the seeds or spitting them out, Tim had been swallowing them. They do not digest, and nautical toilets do not like them! Tim was staying on the boat and fixing the problem he caused.
.
We walk along the beach to the village where the chief and a group of children are expecting us.
.
Laid out on a beautiful woven mat and decorated with flowers, a collection of polished shells and necklaces awaits our inspection. The First Mate usually does try to buy something small at such times, but she see nothing of interest. Normally, she would feel guilty at not making a purchase, but since they will be collecting money from us for the dance, she feels we will have done our part.
.
Speaking of dancing, nobody seems to be ready or even planning to do such a thing. Did something get lost in translation? Obviously from the carefully placed objects for sale, they were expecting us. This is not the sort of place where tourists show up unexpectedly. Cindy and Jim talk to the chief, who does understand and speaks a fair amount of English. He leaves us and walks up into the village area of thatched-roof huts and planted plots of land.
.
While he is gone, The First Mate amuses herself by watching the children. They are just as interested in us as we are in them. Two of the youngest catch her attention with their beautiful, round, soulful eyes.
.
They are very tender with each other and very shy towards us. The First Mate shows them the pictures that she has taken on her camera. They laugh and point when they see themselves. One of the items she keeps meaning to buy for the boat is a small photo printer. How these little ones would cherish having a photo of themselves!
.
Underneath this large pandanus tree, small piles of leaves and debris have been collected. A young girl is busy pushing the piles into what looks like a potato or rice sack.
.
The
smell and smoke of burning coconut palms and other plant matter is
always in the air here in Vanuatu. Sailing along the coast of any
island, one sees the smoke from several fires. Granted this is a great
way to get rid of dried leaves and branches, but the fires they build
are always small and never fed or tended to once they are lit. Why not
just have one spot and build a bonfire and get rid of everything all at
once? The First Mate learns that the real purpose to these smokey fires
is to keep mosquitos and flies away. Flies bring infection, and
mosquitos carry malaria. That is why there are so many little fires
going on all the time around here and why the air around any village is
always tinged with the smoke and the smell of these fires.
In a while, the chief returns with a toddler in his arms. By signals unknown to us, everyone seems to be springing into action. Children are gathered up, and the women head off to dress themselves while a group of men head down a path into the jungle.
.
We still are not sure what is going on, but it is pleasant to watch all the activity. The First Mate wanders over to where the women and children have collected. They are busy making leave garlands and decorating themselves and the children. It looks like this dancing is going to happen!
.
The chief returns from the direction the men had taken to tell us that all is now ready. We are to follow him down the path into the woods to a cleared area. The men are there, and one by one, they place a garland of woven leaves around our shoulders. There are no women, for the men and women dance separately in different areas.
.
The men perform several dances for us. Each one has a theme, but it is difficult for us to follow the chief’s explanation. One is about hunting and killing a pig.
.
Another one is about a young man asking for a girl’s hand in marriage. The dance in this photo reminded The First Mate of the Virginia Reel!
.
The only instruments are these hallow pieces of wood that look like bamboo or sugar canes. Tamtams they are called. Each has been split or cut in the middle. They are then beaten with another stick in the rhythm of the dance.
.
The dancing is energetic and spirited. Rhythmic singing with stomping feet and occasional grunts and yells make up the dances. There is a definite choreography going on. Here, the men on the outside of this circle portray the women with shuffling steps that kick up the sand somewhat like a chicken would do while the men in the center of the circle portray courting men with their stomping feet.
.
The men’s dancing is finished. The chief now leads us out of the woods to a cleared area below the village where the women will perform for us. Grass skirts and leaf garlands are their attire. Even the babes in arms get in the act.
.
The women dance in 2 lines facing each other and occasionally cross over to exchange places.
.
They are accompanied by a small seated group of women who sing and tap out the beat on their tamtams. When the women finish their dancing, they form a line to walk back into the village where they quickly change back into their Mother Hubbard dresses or something similar.
.
We think we are done, but the chief then leads us back to the men. They have an interesting trick to show us. Large leaves are laid one on top of another. A young boy lays down on the leaves and when the stems that are sticking out are bundled together and grasped, the weight of the boy causes the leaves to stick together to form a sling. With this improvised sling, the boy is carried into and around the dance area. The boy stands up, and without his weight exerting pressure on the leaves, the impromptu sling slips apart into individual leaves.
.
The men not involved in the sling demonstration come out from the trees in a single line each carrying a coconut. The perfect refreshment! We thank them and drink.
.
The chief announces that this is the conclusion to their dance presentation, but before we leave, he would like us all to introduce ourselves to each other. The Small Nambas go first. With them standing so nonchalantly in their Nambas and looking like they just stepped out of some primeval jungle, The First Mate is nonplussed, for though she expected to hear traditional native names, she did not expect European names like David and Roger.
.
It is our turn next. We each introduce ourselves. They want to know where we are from and anything of interest that we can tell them about ourselves. The Captain describes our home in Telluride, but we are not sure if they can comprehend the idea of snow or mountains rising over 3,000 meters. Standing next to The Captain are Cindy and Jim from Summer Sky.
.
As we walk back toward the
village, The First Mate questions the chief about their dancing. Do
they perform these dances for themselves at certain times of the year?
Yes, they do. They are part of their circumcision ceremonies, the
blessing of their harvests and marriages.
.
Before we leave, Cindy barters with the chief. A bag of rice for a Tamtam and one of the necklaces they had up for sale on the woven mat.
.
While this trading is going on, The First Mate is taken by another of the little urchins running around our feet. From what she has seen in the villages so far, potty training is a simple matter of letting the child run around naked. It must be a big event when a toddler is put into shorts or a skirt. She equates that to the old custom of little boys wearing shorts or knickers until they are deemed old enough to wear pants.
.
This little guy still has the black lines on his cheeks from his dance makeup.
.
We bid our goodbyes and thank you’s to the chief and those few villagers who are around and head back to our dinghies.
.
Jim cannot resist trying out the seat on one of their hand-carved outriggers. These things look incredibly flimsy, but apparently they are not since we see them in use up and down the coasts of Vanuatu. They are also very narrow and incredibly uncomfortable, as Jim attests while carefully removing himself from the perch.
.
On the walk back to our dinghies, we discuss what we had just seen. What a step back in time! The First Mate expresses her pleasure that we were such a small group. It felt more intimate and less of a tourist-oriented performance. It is The Captain, however, who sums up the day. “A National Geographic Moment,” he calls it, and so it was!