Anuta / The Liberty Escort Service II

We planned to stay at Anuta for a day or two, see the island, meet the people, and then take off again. We ended up staying a week. A week where we were to enjoy local customs and food, see the island, introduce the kids to slacklining and rockclimbing, develop an after-dinner-coconut-addiction, discover Egil's allergy towards the local drug, betelnut, meet the people and thoroughly enjoy ourselves.

After meeting the chiefs the first day we were ready for our first taste of the insane display of hospitality that were to be our reality for the next week. We soon realized that we would not be allowed to cook for ourselves as long as we stayed on the island. We were being fed three or four times every day. We feasted on local food; taro, yams, breadfruit, fish, chicken, turtle, seabirds. After every meal (and sometimes in between) some of the kids that were forever hanging around us would be sent away by our guide for the day to pick us some coconuts to drink. We probably averaged a daily consumption of six coconuts. Each.

The kids would watch our every move, growing a bit bolder every day, although even to the last day some of the younger ones would run and hide, screaming, at the sight of our white skin. ...And I thought I'd finally developed a tan. From the second we landed with the dinghy in the morning (after Joseph picked us up, god forbid we would have to paddle anywhere ourselves) the kids would be there to carry the dinghy away, carry our stuff, or generally just follow us around. The helpfulness were extreme. One of the more bizarre outcomes of this was that one day when I was carrying my backpack around I would constantly have one of the kids at my back lifting my backpack on extended hands, trying to take the strain of my shoulders.
Anuta is a small isolated island. About 1 km across with a small hill to one side, and beach around the rest of the island. There's about 300 inhabitants in two villages right next to one another by the sea. The hill is used for fields, and most of the flatland is cultivated jungle crisscrossed by a maze of tracks. (I still have no idea of how to get from one side of the island to the other without following the beach!). The Anutans are devout Anglican Christians, they have a church and twice a day someone will blow a conch to call to mass. There's no pressure to attend though, and not once during our stay did anyone try to make us go.

One of the things we "had" to go through before we left though, was enjoying one meal with the family of each of the crewmembers of "Lapita", the boat we escorted from Vanuatu. There were eight crew on the boat. One of these were the priest.

This is a good time for looking a bit closer at the "drug" habits of the pacific in general and Anuta in particular. From Vanuatu and eastwards the local drug is the "kava" that we have already mentioned. The kava is made from a crushed root, mixed with water and drunk. It makes your mouth go numb and your mind a little lightheaded and relaxed. Nothing more. On Anuta and the rest of the Solomons, the betelnut is the drug of choice. A bit stronger than the kava it has much of the same effect. However it doesn't last for more than 15-20 minutes. The funny thing, seen with blurry, western eyes, is however that very often alcohol is not used at all by the locals. Sola Bay in Vanuatu for instance has 8-10 Kava - bars (in a village of 500 people), but nowhere to buy alcohol. We were therefore not expecting to encounter any kind of alcohol on Anuta. Fair enough, probably good for us, we thought.

We were therefore a bit surprised when we were having lunch with the priest and his family. Sitting cross legged on the floor and eating our food with our hands the good Father Lamley suddenly pulled out a couple of plastic bottles of ready mixed whisky-coke. The Father Himself took a bottle of beer that he opened with his teeth.
A couple of days later we were back at the priests place for a thank - you feast. Unrealistically we were the ones being thanked, for escorting their boat and crew home from Vanuatu. We were again sitting on the floor of the Fathers house, this time in a big circle around the food. After the food the others started singing their traditional songs, and mysteriously, again the small, plastic bottles reappeared. Only this time it was one each for everyone gathered there. (and, yeah, two for the white guys). The anutans were singing, always the same tune, but different lyrics every time. Most of the songs about the sea. Songs about sailing, about fishing, about being caught out in a storm and being unsure whether you'll ever return, songs about standing on the beach waiting for someone who will never return.

However, after a while of singing, when most had finished their little plastic bottle Father Lamley got up and moved over to his chest by a wall. This caused some sort of excitement with our fellow party-goers. We soon discovered that this was due to Blessed Father pulling out his communal wine. A three-litre bottle of strong port wine. The party soon reached a higher state of party-ness, and the singing grew ever louder.

Some time later, after Father Lamley had been digging into his chest for the third time, the party were over for us. We had been served double servings of holy wine the whole night, due to the general understanding that we, in power of our norwegianness, should be more used to the alcohol. However we have been low-budget cruising for quite a while, and have totally lost touch with our north-norwegian drinking habits (we will catch up again when/if we get to Norway, promise!). Getting back to the boat was out of the question. We couldn't have anyone drive us out as everyone had been drinking, and swimming would probably see us missing the boat altogether and ending up in Australia - a night on the beach was called for.

The Anutans are very conscious about preserving their culture, and, probably due to their isolation, they seem to be succeeding quite well. Anuta is visited twice every year by a supply-ship and 0-2 times by yachts. They talk their own local language, and they take care of their traditions. The kids get sent to the Solomon' capital Honiara to continue their schooling around the age of 12, however they all seem to return. A part of their culture, which is not distinct for Anuta, is the betelnut-chewing. As the would-be anthropologists we are we tried to blend in in every way possible. However when Egil tried for local drug habits he discovered he reacts to betelnut by excessive sweating, dizziness and extreme loss of coordination. No chance of developing an unhealthy betelnut-habit.

After a week we had been through the initiation-seremony. We'd been dressed up in traditional clothing, painted orange (!) and paraded/given the complete tour across the whole island. It was again time for us to leave. We have quite a few unknown factors ahead of us, and we need to cross the indian ocean over to Sri Lanka by the end of september, and we are unsure of how long we need to get in position. In addition we have spent some more time than we expected getting to where we are now (flying twin headsails over calm seas in 8 knots of fair wind, about 100 miles from Honiara, in sunshine). In other words: We need to start hauling ass!

We parted with Anuta just after dark on the beach. Joseph the Elder held a good-bye speech and ALL the kids sang one of the traditional Anuta farewell - songs. We swallowed hard a couple of times, thankful for it being dark, said goodbye to everyone with the traditional greeting; the nose kiss. you go close up to the person, then you shake hands as you do a deep sniff of the other persons neck, right by their ear. The singing continued as we boarded the dinghy for Joseph the Younger to drive us out to Liberty. There we raised anchor, waved goodbye and raised sail for Honiara. Almost. Almost that easy.

As we tried to raise the anchor we discovered that the chain had snagged on some coral. We tried pulling it out manouvering in all different kinds of ways, but with no luck. In the end I had to freedive again, but in the dark, with only a small torch and just over 20 metres of water over my head I wasn't comfortable man-handling a 15 kg anchor with chain attached to it. We decided to wait it out until first light. Anuta wouldn't let us go.

Next morning we got up right after 0500. One hour later the anchor and chain was loose, and the Anuta trip had ended as it begun: with forced free-diving to 20+ msw. Only this time it wasn't a problem. The daylight took much of the fear-factor out of the diving, and the chain came off easily, and I had enough air for both aligning the pressure in my ears and returning safely to the surface.

We then waved goodbye and raised sail for Honiara.

Now is the hour
for us to say goodbye
you will go sailing
far across the sea
While you're away
can you remember us?