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.