the wai
Month
I recently transitioned to using Google Photo’s for managing photos on my iPhone as I became increasingly frustrated with how difficult it was to simply download photos from my phone. This was a time consuming process but eventually managed to get all my photos for the last 10 years uploaded to the cloud.
It’s just gone Saturday afternoon in Luganville, and I’ve got hummus on the brain. I’ve collected the cans of chickepeas (didn’t soak this time soz) and as I get home after a busy morning at work #volunteering, I walk around to the back garden to check for fallen lemons. We have a pretty productive tree out back, maybe every second or third time I go out I find 1 or 2 on the ground, but there is always the chance there will be none.
There is a bit of a festival atmosphere in Luganville at the moment. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it seems in the last 10 days there has been a noticeable increase in the hive of activity down main street, people hanging from cranes (see photo), kind of like the feel you get in a small kiwi bach town in the lead up to new years eve. Sadly, this increased hum in not a cause for celebration, and is in fact due to the evacuation of 11,000 people from the island of Ambae because of falling volcanic ash.
Got out with the boys this morning to hand deliver the water bills (Bil blo wota) to a few hundred residents around Luganville. There are very few road names here and no postal system, so all the bills are delivered in person by the DoWR staff each quarter.
While this song may technically be about an island, islands are of course surrounded by water, therefore I deem it relevant. I’ve been playing a lot of these guys lately, especially when zoning out around the litre metre track. Melt away on your own impossible island.
I was wondering before I left, when it would actually set in that I was moving to live in Vanuatu. So far it had all felt a bit detached and like it was happening to someone else. Perhaps this was due to my generally aloof nature, or due to the process all being pretty seamless, although with quite a few boxes to be ticked. I expected that it would click when I stepped off the plane and felt the rush of humid air and took in my new surroundings.
I was lucky to be invited by Engineers without Borders (EWB) to the 2018 Humanitarian Engineering conference the week before my departure to Vanuatu to join the Department of Water Resources (DoWR) in Luganville. This was especially good timing, given that the Director of the DoWR, Erickson Sammy, was a keynote speaker on the day. There was also a large focus on projects in Vanuatu, which gave me an exciting taste of what lay ahead of me.
The name John Frum is unknown to most and an enigma to those that may have heard of him. But to a small number of villages on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu, John Frum is their yet-to-return saviour, who will one day return with a ship load of cargo, and deliver them to a better life. Sound familiar?
This is a strange place
You get a bit of time to think walking these Litre Metres. Now I’m lucky to rent in a pretty nice neighbourhood, and I was wondering to myself, how much do all these houses cost, that I walk around each day? So with a lil help from handy GIS, I found a number.
An itinerary flew into my inbox this after, delivering the message that this was actually happening. I have had confirmation that I would be going on this adventure for a couple of months now, but always with the caveat that there might be some logistical or bureaucratic bump in the road that could derail the whole thing. Now it seems really real.
Well today got off to a firing start on the pledge page with some heavy hitting donations. Sending ngā mihi mahana to everyone who has put in their support with extra special mention to my awesomely cool uncle and auntie, Eddie and Jane, whose philanthropy knows no bounds.
Big thanks also going to MARKPLAN Consulting Ltd and Mitchell Rooney. Mitchell is a great guy and engineer and has worked at MARKPLAN exclusively, so I can only assume they are great too. I’m looking forward to seeing what they have been getting involved with in Vanuatu.
1 million litre metres to get me to Vanuatu
Now I wouldn’t say I’m a religious man, but this song has so much spirit it could almost be a religion in itself. Released in 1951, a year remember for little else, Sam Cooke was only 19 years old, accumulating inordinate amounts of soul by such a young age. Wherever the water came from, it sure was in him.
The last group discussion was held informally in the airport waiting lounge over a crafty beer. Optimism and excitement had prevailed over the prior emotions apprehension and uncertainty following a full four days of honest and open discourse. It would likely be the last time we would see each other face to face, but we were confident that we would keep in touch one assignment and share our stories.