Tuesday, November 28

SEND MOVIES!

Dear Friends and Family (Matt's friends and family, too!),

Surprisingly there are a couple people in our village that have small TV's and DVD players.

There are no TV channels, so the set up is only used for watching DVD's.

Sadly no one has any DVD's.

There is a dumpy little shop that rents really bad Chinese bootleg's but they are all crap like Jean Claude VanDam, or Vin Diesel.

so...

If you want to be the hero of our world please send any DVD's you have laying around that you aren't going to miss. Something a few steps up in quality from Rambo, but maybe nothing that is overly complex or dialog heavy (even though matt and i would love it). Many people understand a little bit of English but mostly they understand the movies only from what they are watching. Everyone is bored to death of all the low-brow stuff. I was surprised when one friend told me he really liked "Hotel Rwanda". This is great 'cause then we have an opportunity to teach them about stuff like racial issues, genocide, Africa, Western politics and so forth - this is VERY important. That kind of cultural sharing doesn't happen when you watch Terminator for the tenth time.

- scary movies would be fun. (but not necessarily slasher movies).

- they loved Shrek and we saw The Incredibles, so other pixar stuff would be great.

- edu-tainment or other documentaries would be great.

- dramas or character-driven movies are good.

actually... considering how desperate we are... please just send anything.

If you would like to send something that you want me to return, we can do that as well - but it will be in two years!

Please send your spare DVD's to:

Brett Serwalt, PCV
Peace Corps
PMB 9097
Port Vila
Vanuatu
South Pacific

Thursday, November 2

THE LIFE OF A VOLUNTEER


It’s still too soon for most volunteers to have got any projects started, but I hope to hear fom other PCV’s from my group. Two of them are currently visiting Tanna, and one from another group recently visited as well, to learn about the coffee industry down here so they can help replicate the success on other islands. And from them I’ve learned just tiny bits of un-verified gossip about life on other islands.

  • One girl left her site after it became clear the only thing her counterpart wanted her to do was to help him set up some sort of micro-finance scheme.
  • Another fella had some ideas of starting an ice cream factory (I know!), but is now recovering in Vila from a back injury.
  • A PCV teacher (from a different group) just told me that his counterpart who is also the head of his school is now M.I.A. leaving him the only guy at the school and leaving the community wondering what he’s gonna do about it.
  • One woman was medi-vac’d to Sydney for a dental procedure unavailable in Vanuatu.
  • One girl was banned from our training village reportedly for kissing on all the boys.
  • A Tanna PCV enjoyed a piece of fish and 30 minutes later, while walking up a road to the provice offices, experienced unannounced and unstoppable anal leakage. An oily substance, he likes to clarify – always telling the story while we are dining of fish.
  • Another Tanna PCV was virtually attacked by a large group of missionaries who put their hands all over him, told him he was holding an imaginary candle, and loudly prayed for his soul.
  • Another guy who sold his computer sales business to “do something completely different in the Peace Corps” was planning to work on a fisheries project but is now reportedly teaching computer skills.
  • Similarly another guy left behind more than a decade in America’s coffee retail industry for a uniquely new experience and yet is now running a coffee factory in Tanna. And has a toothache. And is afraid to eat fish. And is vigilant about his proximity to missionaries.

MUSINGS & MISCELLANY

At The Bank –
Tanna has one bank (one more than most islands). Both the Peace Corps and the Coffee Factory use this bank so I find myself there at least once a week. We both use a standard savings account that comes with a little passbook that shows our transactions.

  • Everything is done by hand.
  • They have to phone Vila for updates on the balance.
  • The phones work half the time.
  • Always check their math - mistakes happen regularly. Sometimes withdrawals are deducted multiple times, but never the other way around.
  • Two people in line can be a surprisingly long wait.
  • They have signs: “You asked for faster service, You asked for shorter lines, You asked for more accuracy…WE DELIVERED. Apply For Your IsiKad Today!”. The Isikad (EZ Card) is an ATM card.
  • Tanna has no ATM’s.
  • We DO have a counter top key-pad that you would find in a retail store.
  • The key-pad is located at a teller station.
  • It’s so easy!… First you go into the bank and wait in line for a teller, then the teller stands-by while the machine dials into a maybe working phone connection, verifies the receipt, then counts out your money.
  • Isikard holders have taken to by-passing the line and now just stand in front of the key-pad until someone walks over.
  • The only way for a teller to walk over is to ignore the other people that have been standing in line all freakin’ day. Which they do… ‘cause “We DELIVERED!”.
  • Locals don’t understand bank lines. Sometimes I’ll walk up to an open teller only to have the next person in line follow me and stand right next to me waiting for that same teller instead of waiting for the next opening.

[PHOTO: This is the hub of all retail activity on Tanna. In this L-shaped building we have the bank (yellow sign above door) which also includes the one man post office. There is also a AirVanuatu office that only handles flights to Vila; a large Co-op store; a small restaurant; a boot-leg video rental shop where absolutely none of the videos (mostly Jean Claude Van Dam crap) work completely - but beggers can't be choosers]

  • If there is a gap between two people in line someone who just walked in may try to fill the gap regardless of how long the line is.
  • The orginal signers on the COV bank account have long ago left. We've been forging signatures for over year. I tried to transfer money to pay off a loan for the COV and they called me on it.
  • I typed up a letter pretending to be one of the original signers explaining that Brett Serwalt was the new administrator of the account.
  • Of course I forged the signatures.
  • They accepted the letter without question.

At The Main Store –

  • Individual, packaged, ice cream cone with a chocolate coating!
  • The ingrediants say “ice cream, milk, sugar, chocolate coating, cone”.
  • Best to feel around the plastic making sure you don’t get one that melted and then was re-frozen – those suck even worse than a proper one.
  • If they don’t have exact change they pay you off in pieces of candy. They didn’t ask your permission, they just toss the candy on the counter regardless of whether or not you needed that 20vt to buy an eggpant.
  • First time this happened I thought they were just giving me some little treat for being a good customer. Yeah, right.
  • They don’t say “hello” or “thank you” either.
  • They often slam your change down on the counter.
  • If you see them on the street they are the nicest people ever.
  • They sell little packets of a salt-like substance called “Flavor”. Also known as MSG. And all the imported snack foods are loaded with MSG.

  • At the Restaurant –

    • Yes, we have a couple restaurants, but it’s not what you think. All but one are nothing more than a shack with a couple benches.

      Business hours: around 10am until the food is gone (usually around noon). No one serves dinner.
    • They all serve ONE item. Always one of three things – chicken curry, beef stew, and on rare occasions they may have fish (why is fish rare on a Pacific Island? Another anamoly).
    • Each plate is always served with a pile of rice and a three-bite salad.
    • Rice is NOT a native dish.
    • If there is a ship at the wharf the town is hoping.
    • The restaurants never make any accommodation for the predictable increase in business and therefore run out of food twice as fast (read: before I get there).
    • I’ve intentionally frequented one business since arriving to make it easier on me when requesting eggs be substituted for meat.
    • I’m one of only a couple white customers, I’m the only one who makes a vegetarian request, I eat there 3 times a week, they only have two employees.
    • It took three freakin’ months before they stopped looking at me like I was an alien. Each day was as if they had never seen me before. “Same thing as everyone else, just cook eggs instead of meat” “no meat?” “right, just eggs” “you only want eggs?” “well, yeah… and everything else” “eggs and chicken?” “No. no meat… just eggs with rice and vegetables” “so no meat?” “right”… and on and on until I’m about to slit my wrists.
    • A ceiling fan is hanging by it’s wires. I point and comment to my friends, but the staff takes that to mean I want the fan on. Now it's going full speed and I’m waiting to see someones head chopped off.

    At The Electric Company –

    • The French owned Unelco set up shop in Tanna about three or four years ago. Before that it was all generators and kerosene lanterns. This is a huge leap for Tanna, but so far just on the west coast.
    • A 5amp power supply can be operated with a pre-paid card just like a telephone calling card. This is ideal for the locals who may just be using a couple lightbulbs – there is no monthly minimum.
    • The factory uses two systems, a 20amp full-service supply with a large monthly minimum, and the 5amp deal for the off-season.
    • Some how I became in charge of the electric bill for the factory.
    • The bill is in French.
    • Each month our bill includes a back-due amount from the month of May
    • Each month I walk down to the Unelco office and explain the problem in my Bislama/English and they stare at me blankly.
    • They talk back to me in Bislama/French and I stare at them blankly.
    • We start over again from the beginning. This repeats itself several times and often includes visuals such as me pointing at the calculator or slapping my hand on the bill as I hold it up in the air.
    • She gets on the phone and has a lengthy French conversation with someone in Vila.
    • She politely tells me that I’m correct and to simply ignore the mistake and just pay the current months balance. “Do you want to make a notation on the bill?” I ask. “No, not necessary”
    • Next month we do it all over again.
    • The Unelco manager shows up at the factory threatening to cut off our power.
    • I gather all the bills, with our receipts, and stomp on down to the office.
    • After much difficult communication which somehow involves the Director of the Department of Agriculture (just happened to be hanging around) I learn that we are having our power shut off for not paying a deposit.
    • It is now October, but the deposit was due in January.
    • Asking why they never brought it up before today is futile.
    • “How much do we owe”, I ask quite simply.
    • “We don’t know”, is the quite simple reply.
    • “So you’re going to shut off our power because we owe you money but you don’t know how much we owe you?, Correct?”
    • “Yes”
    • I love the French. Really, I do.
    • I wave the bills around, jump up and down a bit, toss around the calculator for a while, and next thing you know all is forgiven and magically we no longer owe them anything and it’s all the fault of the Unelco staff in Vila.
    • I love Ni-Vans. This time I really mean it.

    The Bread Store –

    • One of dozens of tiny stores (smaller than you bedroom) serving a local village.
    • They all sell mostly the same 2 dozen items – just the staples.
    • Most don’t have any signage or even an official name.
    • Our local store is unique in that it has a large, multi-colored hand painted sign that says “The Bread Store”
    • Guess what they never have?
    • The storekeeper, like all the stores, doesn’t keep any regular hours and no hours of operation are posted. Maybe they’ll be open, maybe not.
    • We stand by the street in front of The Bread Store and yell out the name of the young girl who works at the store until she grudgingly comes walking out of her hut about half a block away.
    • She tells us she tired of always being pestered by customers when she’s not open.
      We explain that if she just posted her hours – even if it’s just a 2-3 hours each day, and stuck to them, customers would work around those times

    [PHOTO: Jeff standing in front of the Bread Store calling out for Becky]

    • She doesn’t want to post hours because then she won’t be able to leave whenever she feels like it.
    • So we stand on the street and scream her name whenever it’s convenient for us. She comes out every time.
    • I tell her we are renaming the store – The No Gat Bread Store.
    • She thinks it’s funny but makes no moves to increase the bread supply.
    • I go to Lenekal twice a week for fresh bread and make a point of waving it around as I walk past her house.

    At The Nakamal –

    • If you want your kava “to-go” you bring a plastic water bottle and they will fill it up and charge you accordingly.
    • Most all kava nakamals have a water bucket with a small common cup so anyone can rinse their mouth after drinking – which I always like to do.
    • I always brought my own water bottle to rinse my mouth, but got lazy and started doing as the locals do.
    • I notice a local man approach with a half-empty (and filthy) water bottle. He stops at the water bucket and oh-so generously pours his personal water into the common bucket so he can fill up the bottle with kava.
    • I use my own water bottle again.
    • I enjoy offering to buy my friends shells of kava (a full shell is less than one U.S. dollar, and we often drink half shells), but I’m always conscious of not giving the impression that the white man has plenty of money (‘cause I don’t).
    • I lie regularly about how much money I have when someone asks me to buy them a shell. I have a firm policy never to buy when I’m asked. This can create a false impression, and will cause problems for every other “white man” down the road.
    • Ten minutes later I feel bad when I remember that we’re only talking about 50 cents.

    [PHOTO: The infamous water bucket at the entrance to the black sand beach nakamal]

    • The next night I don’t feel bad anymore when two complete strangers ask me to buy them a shell.
    • The kava bar can be an international experience. Steve is French, Katsut is Japanese, Laura is Australian, Kamut is Ni-Van, and Jeff and I are American.
    • All but Kamut are on government payrolls.
    • When Jeff or I buy a round we all sing out “George Bush is paying!”
    • When Steve buys we sing out “Jacques Chirac is paying!”
    • When Kamut buys it’s “Ham Lini is paying!”
    • When Laura buys it’s “John Howard is paying!”
    • Curiously we haven’t heard “Koizumi is paying!”
    • Referring to each other by the heads of our respective states has become a “thing” – kind of funny, but also kind of annoying to be referred to as George Bush. The worst was when Jeff decided he was George Bush which made me Dick Cheney. Thankfully this game has faded.
    • Overheard: Jeff being asked specific questions about World War II in the company of Katsut. Jeff, feeling an international uncomfortableness, declined to answer who started it and who finished it.
    • Overheard: A kava drunk Ni-Van walks up to Jeff, grabs his forearm and smacks the tender underside with his fingers until it turns red, repeats the action to his own black arm on which you can’t see the redness and then declares (in bislama) “See, skin of white man weak! skin of black man strong! Skin of black man strong!”. We ignore him.


      *In fairness to Katsut, he really isn’t part of our circle, and hasn’t been around when we are buying each other shells of kava.

    DEVELOPMENT MUSINGS

    I know it must seem like it’s all fun and games down here, playing with the Prime Minister and checking out volcanoes and such, but the truth is that we spend the majority of our time working on our development projects. And it’s important to note that we spend an inordinate amount of time doing what in the US would take mere seconds. Like trying to contact the board of directors of the COV to call the next meeting – something they are required by law to do each quarter. In a perfect world they would call me up and extend an invitation for me to attend as a guest, since I’m techically just an advisor. But in practice I have to hunt down and hound the chairwoman, constantly pleading with her to pick a date “any date, just pick a date!”, so that a formal meeting can take place and decisions can be made and the project can move forward. Her office has a phone, a computer, and access to vehicles. I don’t have a local working phone, no vehicles (unless I hire the rare taxi), and must walk 90 minutes in the blazing southern sun just to get to her office. This woman is one of the most educated on the island, and purportedly the go-to girl for all affairs concerning the province offices. For this reason she was selected to be on the Board of Directors for the charitable organization that is charged with looking after all the farmers of Tanna (the COV) for which I was brought in to provide technical and managerial assistance.

    Really what I’m doing is out-right managing the factory and babysitting the Board of Directors.

    I run into M.J., COV Chairwoman, at Lenekal, the hub of Tanna island where we (Jeff, Matt and I) often have lunch. I politely ask when the next board meeting will take place, noting that the previous deadline had long-ago lapsed. She strangely blames Jeff for “not coming around any more” as if that prevented her from her duties, and then says she will defiinitely come to the factory the very next morning. The next morning we put on a fresh pot of coffee and wait. And wait. And wait. Of course she doesn’t show. We go to Lenekal for lunch and learn of a message from another board member asking ME when the next meeting will take place. Ugh.

    The following week I trudge up to Isangel. The sun is particularly blazing, and the second half of the walk is uphill. I arrive dripping in sweat (it’s not even summer yet!) and upon reaching the province offices I find M.J. walking around the grass.

    Me: M.!

    M.J.: Hello Brett – you look hot, why are you so sweaty?

    Me: Uh…because M.J., I have to walk everywhere. You see how hard it is for me to come up here and visit you? We really REALLY need the COV board to work hard to get a phone installed at the factory.

    M.J.: Yes, it’s true.

    Me: So… you didn’t come to the factory last week. No big deal, just tell me the date you picked for the next board meeting.

    M.J.: I don’t know.

    Me: You don’t know? Well… just pick a date.

    M.J.: I don’t know.

    Me: Do you want to have a board meeting?

    M.J.: I don’t know.

    Me: Aren’t we required by law to have quarterly meetings?

    M.J.: I don’t know.

    Me: Do you still want to be on the board of directors?

    M.J.: I don’t know.

    The whole time she is rolling her head back and forth in a slow Stevie Wonder impersonation and my blood is starting to boil.

    It is moments like this, later when the white boys talk amongst ourselves, that stimulate us down long and convoluted conversations about development projects, the efficacy and sustainability thereof, and our role in the matters at hand. We have discussed and debated for hours upon hours often only to find ourselves twisted around right back where we started. Usually, and most annoyingly, we find there is no answer to our question. At least no good or acceptable answer.

    Sometimes we find there is no question to our answer. If the answer is “a PCV in the field doing development work” - what was the question?

    If the question is: “Vanuatu needs development assistance, what do we do?” The answer may be the above. The answer could be the above. But maybe the answer is to ask another question. Like… what would happen if we didn’t help with development? What does development look like when it’s done? Is development culturallly appropriate? Do they want and/or need development? Will development hurt or help?

    The questions and answers are mind-boggling and we often find ourselves having moments of inner-clarity which may lead to thinking that the whole affair is useless, that they don’t need us and we may in fact be hurting more than helping. Especially if you look at the big, big picture.

    Then tomorrow you talk it over again and you decide that what your doing is important and is, in fact, helping – if only in small baby-step ways.

    For business volunteers such as Jeff and I it’s easy for us to say that our goal is to make sure the farmers earn as much money as possible from the coffee industry – that they aren’t being ripped off by the white man, that the factory is running efficiently, that’s it’s all worth their time and energy. With the money they earn we can only hope that they are using it to pay school fees to educate the next generation so that maybe they, the future leaders of Vanuatu, can run the factory themselves instead of relying on outsiders.

    This is just a pipe dream, however, as we see everyday the results of the piss-poor education system that exists here in Vanuatu. For all their charm and impressive first-impression abilities, the most educated people often continue to act like 12 year olds.

    So then the base of any development conversation, assuming the country has sufficient health needs met, is always going to be education. And if we are just running this coffee industry as a way to get the farmers money to pay for school fees (assuming they have a school nearby, and are actually using the money for school fees) then you may have a “fuck it all” epiphany such as I had the other day.

    It doesn’t take a math wizard to realize that it’s much cheaper and more effective to just pay the school fees directly. Forget all this coffee industry crap. This year the combined earnings of over 350 farmers totaled just over 5 million vatu. Exchanged into dollars that’s about $50,000. In this land that’s a lot of money – but at what cost? By the time I had reached the staging event in Los Angeles before departing for Vanuatu they told us the Peace Corps had already invested an average of $25,000 in each of us. That was before we even came to the country. Between our living allowance, re-adjustment allowance, training, travel, and all the myriad expenses involved in all the support infrastruture in Vila and DC I would guess each volunteer is costing the Peace Corps over $35,000 a year. The French have donated tens of thousands to this project and have had salaried advisors on the project for over 5 years. In effect we are donating well over $100,000 a year to a project that is earning the famers only $50,000. And I’m here walking for hours uphill in the blazing sun trying to get an apathetic local person to sign a bank form so I can pay off a loan so the project doesn’t collapse. It makes you wanna say “fuck it all”, just hand them the hundred thousand in the form of school fees – and while were at it lets give them a quality education.

    This isn’t the answer either, of course.

    In the US we can afford public education and then we make education mandatory which in turn lifts up the entire society making us smart and powerful. Here they can’t afford public education, and even the schools that the people pay for aren’t anything that can be considered good or effective. And it’s certainly not mandatory. The kids can stop going whenever they feel like it.

    And if we didn’t help develop sustainable industries then there would be no point in having educated Ni-Vans to run it. Which brings me to the infamous rub.

    The rub to just about every single development discussion that we have here in Vanuatu is that they don’t need it. They aren’t poor (in relative terms), and they certainly aren’t hungry.

    If the coffee industry (the biggest industry on Tanna) were to collapse entirely this place would be just fine and life would continue with barely a blip of concern registering on the livihoods of the people who formerly profited from coffee. The truth is they don’t need this. They may want this, but they sure don’t need it. That’s the beauty of subsistance living. It’s the reason they won top honors in a “Worlds Happiest Place” study. This particular study was based on environmental impact and a societies relationship with natural resources. The Ni-Van culture is almost entirely subsistance living and while that might sound sad and poor, the truth is that they aren’t poor at all. In fact, they seem quite rich and happy. You just need to tweak your definitions a bit - alter your ideals about what constitutes relative wealth and how that translates to happiness.

    It’s difficult but helpful the realized that if the coffee industry was wiped out the only person that would really be screwed is Terry Adlington, the Australian ex-pat that owns the private Tanna Coffee Company. And he can always just start importing from Papua New Gueni or return to Australia.

    Where does that leave me?

    The next line of thought is that if they are happy living the way they live and we are just forcing the modern world on them, then what would happen if we weren’t here trying to develop them from the grass roots level?

    Well – There’s this:

    There is a small (tiny) island in North Efate not too far from my training village on Lelepa. This tiny island has been purchased by foreign businessmen who are turning it into a $40,000 per night ultra-luxury resort that will accommodate one person and six of his/her friends. It includes a multi-level, ultra-luxury, treehouse situated in a giant banyan that has, on the tips of it’s highest branches, a six-person hot tub. The staff of maids and butlers, including a private world-class chef, will visit you in advance to determine your tastes, preferences, and styles so that when you arrive you need bring just one small bag of clothes. Everything else will be shipped-in before you arrive and will be exactly to your liking. The spectacular grounds have two full-time garderners to keep up the bogus tropical flora, which doesn’t entirely exist naturally in Vanuatu. While some efforts have been made to employ locals during the construction, the long-term care and staffing of this ten-star business will require highly trained individuals that simply don’t exist in Vanuatu. In other words, very little money will be flowing into local hands as a result of this development.

    At low-tide this ultra-luxury resort is accessible simply by walking across knee deep water to the mainland of North Efate. Of course the resident of the island will have a luxury watercraft to ferry him or her across the water. The problem, however, is what to do with the unsightly village that lays just across this water and is in full view of the resort? What to do with all the locals that use the North Efate coastline for bathing, cleaning clothes, fishing and general enjoyment?

    Purportedly, the businessmen crudely offered the villagers a lump sum payment of 4 million vatu to move the entire village back into the bush a few kilometers so it would be out of sight for the resort. Remember that 4 million vatu is about $40,000. And the locals NEED regular access to the coast. The village chiefs, thank god!, declined the offer. But this won’t stop the offers, always an embarrassing and offensive low-ball, from coming in all directions.

    And this is why I, and others like myself, are here. We need to help them help themselves before others come along and take advantage of them.

    If this means Peace Corps needs to run the factory for the next few years so that farmers have a reason to hold onto their land for another generation or two (if nothing else) then so be it.

    In the end if the whole world goes to shit, but the Ni-Vans each have a little bit of land, then they’ll be just fine.


    [PHOTO: A moonrise above my bungalow - one of my favorite photos]



    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

    A press release for the local paper:
    TANNA COFFEE’S GROWING SUCCESS
    Brett Serwalt – U.S. Peace Corps
    Technical Assistant – C.O.V.
    1/11/2006

    The amazing success of the Vanuatu coffee industry is riding high on the backs of the eager, and highly motivated Tanna farmers, and the combined efforts of several dedicated development agents. In 2006 the farmers have produced over 26 tons of dried, un-processed coffee - more than triple the 2005 production of only 7.6 tons. Local farmers have earned over 5,000,000 vatu which was paid in full at the time of sale. The processing factory at Lowkatai Village has slashed expenses and is operating at maximum efficiency. 73% of all coffee produced is of the highest internationally recognized grade – a remarkable number. The Coffee Organization of Vanuatu (COV), a charity that overseas the livlihood of the coffee industry, will end the year with positive financial results – it’s first ever! The positive effects of this and other local successes can be seen in the changing economy of Tanna as many small businesses of all kinds are expanding. The coffee farmers are excited about our new system and are forecasting a likely doubling of production for the 2007 harvest.

    How do we explain such amazing success?

    For perspective and transperancy it’s helpful to provide a very brief history:

    Coffee has been harvested in Vanuatu for over a hundred years but in only relatively small quantities. After independence in 1980 a concerted effort was launched by the Commonwealth Development Corporation (CDC) to develop the coffee industry. Production peaked in 1992 at 62 tons, but shortly thereafter the CDC collapsed and the assets were later sold to a private company. A combination of mismanagement and limited financial resources drove the company, along with the coffee industry, into a steep decline. Farmers became discouraged and quality plunged. By 2002 Vanuatu’s coffee industry was virtually moribund producing only 9 tons and in terminal decline. 2004’s Cyclone Ivy only hastened the decline and further discouraged the farmers.

    The private successor to the CDC was re-organized as the Tanna Coffee Development Company (TCDC) which partnered with the Department of Agriculture and Rural Development (DARD), the Producers Organization Project (POPACA), and later, the U.S. Peace Corps, to act quickly to resurrect the ailing Vanuatu coffee industry. POPACA aims at improving smallholders cash incomes through associative production and marketing activities, providing infrastructure and managerial oversight. Peace Corps utilizes volunteers working at the grassroots level training and motivating, providing technical assistance, and cultivating a sharing of culture and understanding.

    In 2002 DARD/POPACA took over all operations of the Lowkatai factory, while TCDC focused on the privately owned roasting facilities located on Efate. A revolving credit fund was established to ensure prompt cash payments to all farmers. Training programs were launched to improve overall quality and assist in the collection of raw coffee cherries. At this time the farmers were paid 25vt per kilo for coffee cherries. The factory did all the processing and sold dried green beans, under exclusive long-term contract, to TCDC.

    The results from these actions saw an immediate reversal as the once declining industry jumped to over 13 tons in 2003, quality greatly improved, and farmer motivation was enhanced. At the end of the 2003 harvest, and under the guidance of the DARD/POPACA management team, the charitable COV was formed as an umbrella body representing all stakeholders. The goal of the COV was to establish a sustainable non-profit NGO which would undertake the commercial activities of the DARD/POPACA development program. The COV would oversea the buying, processing, marketing, and management, while also providing assistance and support to the development of a viable coffee industry.

    POPACA provided tremendous support to the COV in the distribution of 150,000 seedlings, construction of a hot air dryer, distribution of essential processing equipment such as wheelbarrows and water tanks, as well as a continuation of the revolving credit fund which enables direct cash payments to the farmers at the time of sale.

    In 2004 a field survey conducted and analysed by Peace Corps and DARD provided much needed practical data about the status of coffee in Tanna. The results of the report provided the data needed to restructure the entire project in new and exciting ways. The opportunity was to give the farmers themselves as much power and control as possible, and in return they would earn a much higher return on their investment. Knowing exactly where the coffee farms were located allowed DARD/POPACA to build over 25 pulping stations strategically located to minimize farmer travel. Knowing the status of the coffee plots created an opportunity for targeted training sessions. The combination of the pulping stations and field training allowed the project to make the key strategic move of shifting the first four steps of coffee processing (pulping, cleaning, fermenting, and drying) from the factory to the farmers. Decentralizing the work allowed the factory to greatly reduce it’s labor expenses from a full-time team of contract workers to just a handful of “as-needed” labor. The farming communities took ownership of the pulping stations and gained a trememdous amount of control over how and when they harvest and process their coffee. When they bring the dried coffee to the factory they now are paid 200vt per kilo – a much more motivating price than the 25vt for coffee cherries.

    Even though production in 2004 and 2005 was disappointing (mainly the results of Cyclone Ivy) the outstanding production in 2006 has validated the efforts of every person working on the project. Renewed energies are focused on the anticipated doubling of tonnage in 2007, and have encouraged an expansion of the project from Aneitum in the south to Efate in the north. Indeed, these two islands have planted out thousands of new trees, pulping stations have been established, and plans have been made to develop additional nurseries to continue the expansion on these islands.

    While Tanna Coffee in Efate works hard to distribute Vanuatu’s coffee overseas with an eye towards establishing Tanna Coffee as a reputable world-class brand, the development agents continue to be committed to the future success of the project. POPACA has extended it’s contract and funding commitments until the end of 2007 and will possibly hand over it’s responsibilities to a new European Union project at that time. The U.S. Peace Corps has begun it’s third year on the project and is committed to providing training, technical, and managerial assistance until at least the year 2010.