With not a little ceremony, I place down the hank of sailing cord to trade with in the small hut, and sit down on haunches with my counterpart. We bring our heads closer to discuss the deal. Rope is collateral here, and it was a surprise that something roused out from QuickStar’s bilge, unused for years, could be so attractive. But we have had many surprises in this island of Ambrym, northern Vanuatu.
Earlier that morning, our minds churned as we tried to classify something never seen before. All I could shout down the companionway to the crew was “There’s something big in the water nearby...”. It was rolling about easily on the surface, light tan skin and smooth. Rounded. A big creature, about 10 shoe sizes bigger than a dolphin. As big as a log, wallowing 15m away. But it wasn’t a log - it was moving. It becomes a they, and they see us and dive, mother and calf, horizontal tails and no dorsal. Dugongs.
Up the track from the anchorage, a living bridge spans 20m across the rainforest gully. The fig tree of interlocked arms reaches 8m across the gully above the stream bed below, to cross in times of flood. The bridge is topped by moss and grows in step with the rainforest around
Meanwhile, in the next village, carved tam tam drums start to pound across the island. The chief has come home to the village; the sound fills the rainforest and coconut groves and signal the start of the 3 day custom dance festival. The tam tams are up to 12ft high, carved from monolithic pieces of timber, just like the ubiquitous local canoes. They are crowned by faces with huge eyes, watching the crowd in the rainforest clearing.
Cruisers from about 7 boats sit in the front row, and people from the local villages stand en mass behind. They relearn the old dances, and see their relatives dance into lore. It is high village status to be invited to dance. The festival starts with the clubbing of a pig in preparation for a promotion of a village senior. One more level toward Chief. Current chiefs and previous chiefs look on, with curled bore-tusk bracelets showing their status.The dancers work hard and sweat in the humid air, sometimes fierce and sometimes laughing, but always looking inward and taking energy from the center of the group.
The stage is a small clearing in the trees where the forest has been peeled back and swept to black volcanic earth. It springs with the energy of the stomping, resonating as a giant drum, and I can see the sound radiating through the earth close to the dancers. We feel it through the log benches and hear the dance in our chests. The sweat from the dancers grows during the day as their history regenerates. The festival ends with the Rom dance, with costumes of pandanus and elaborate carved and painted headdress.
We walk back the hour to the anchorage through fields rimmed by fences of green timber posts that sprout and just like the fig bridge, become living fences that won’t rot. A few strands of barbed wire complete the fenceline. Here it is to keep the cattle out, but we ask a villager why the need for a single strand of barbed around the woven pandanus houses. The villages are sometimes mysterious, but they feel safe. His answer: it’s not for keeping out people: Black magic cannot cross barbed wire.
That night, QuickStar lies at anchor in the gentle roll of swell curling into the anchorage. Sitting in a dark cockpit, there is muffled talking nearby on the water. A dark smudge of a carved outrigger canoe glides by in the dark. What are they doing out here, near the anchored cruisers in the dark? Beyond them, high up on the mountain, above the silhouette of palm trees, and beyond the crest of the cinder cone, a lake of lava constantly bubbles. It lights the sky in orange and pink.The glow swirls slowly as clouds of steam rise and carry west on the trades. When sailing toward Ambrym and Tanna islands at night, we use the volcanoes as mountain lighthouses.
The rope trading continues for maybe 10 minutes, and ends in smiles. Frowns of concentration and spoken Bislama calculations between my counterparts break into happiness once we sealed the trade - for exquisite carved tam tam drums, flutes and a mask. I traded directly with the carver, who worked for hours on the pieces and was weighing values carefully. But his eyes lit up as he picked up the hank of rope, to tether the village’s cattle. The wooden carvings are stunning. But I think we both felt we got the better deal, as we carry away a piece of the different worlds we both live in.