31 May 2003

Letter 12

Greetings from the Wheartys in Vanuatu!

Kinsey has begun a new high school correspondence course through Indiana University. Emily is starting year eight. In addition, they both take three classes here at Onesua: religious education, French, and physical education.

Lora’s kindergarten is a source of great joy. The mothers and dads from the neighboring villages often stay with the children and listen to the stories that Lora reads. When Lora walks across the campus, tiny voices call, “Hello, teacher!” from the staff houses.

I have handed the two year 12 English classes to Caroline, a new volunteer from Australia. I am guest teaching in math and English, holding some English conversation practice with small groups of year 12 students, and supervising a student teacher in seventh grade math.

One recent Saturday we spent in Siviri Village. The school truck dropped us off at the entry road at 7:00 in the morning, and the driver said he would be back about noon. Caroline, Lora, and I walked down the track to the center of the village, and everything was still. We sat on a bench beneath a banyan tree, under a notice that said, “Respect our Baby Turtles,” and waited. Ten years ago I ate turtle eggs in Siviri. Now turtles are protected as tourist attractions.

After a while people woke. Leiset gave us tea and grapefruit and some freshly baked cookies. Elder Arthur was now living in a different part of the village, so we used the new village bathroom, which includes showers, toilets, and taps, and walked back the way we had come, this time with Leiset and her husband David for guides.

We visited Siviri Cave, where there is an underground lake that used to provide water for the village. (We all got diarrhea every visit.) Once in the cave, David picked up a large stick and banged it on the floor. The cave became brighter, or at least seemed to. Light reflected off dust particles near the entrance? Increased alertness from the noise? Our eyes adjusting to the darkness? I don’t know.

We found Elder Arthur and were warmly greeted. I showed him a story that I had printed, and I explained the project to him: villagers record and illustrate stories and I type and print them. They can then be used with kids or adults to read in their own language, Bislama, English, or French.

We passed the morning with Elder Arthur and his son telling stories and me scribbling. I tended to laugh a lot and say, “Slow down!” The women of the village fed us lunch. We walked on the beach for a while and just made it back to the house before a tropical deluge hit. We sat in the storm darkness under the corrugated metal roof. The noise gradually quieted to where we could talk. Time passed, gentle as the steady rain. At about 3:00, we suddenly got word that a village truck could take us home, the school truck was here, and the daily round-the-island bus was waiting. In five minutes we went from wondering if we were stranded to having three choices of how to get home.

At 10:45 the service began. Lora and I were inducted into the local session as a deacon and an elder. After nine months here, we are now official! Then it was time for gifts from the villages as a sign of support for Onesua’s golden jubilee celebration in June. Each village sang and carried forward gifts: hand-made dresses, mats and bags, baskets of root crops and fruit, bundles of coconuts, even three chickens with their legs tied securely. I was amazed. Most of these folks have practically nothing by U.S. standards, yet the pile of gifts grew and grew until some of it had to be carried outside to make room for more. Students representing Onesua walked among the choir members shaking baby powder on them, which is the traditional way of honoring guests here. The service ended at 1:15. I was asked to give the benediction, and I think the students were very thankful to hear, “The Lord bless you and keep you…”

Lora and I stood with the visiting pastors and shook about 600 hands, from wrinkled old grandmothers to wide-eyed babies. Lora took her ring off before the handshaking began so her hand wouldn’t hurt.

Then the service turned into a bazaar, and the students and visitors turned the gifts into money. It was like a bake sale where a mom donates a cake and then buys her neighbor’s cookies.

The church service lasted almost four hours, and it wasn’t wasted time. I think that our communities would be stronger if we spent more time in rituals that emphasized our relationships, in activities we do together to support our common institutions.

At this time of approaching summer (for most of you), I wish you time. If you are too busy to notice the quiet signs of progress, you are too busy. Please take the time to wonder at the strangeness around us, to listen to each other’s stories, to share cookies and umbrellas with strangers, and to give thanks for the bounty which surrounds us.

Hae God bambae i blesem yu, mo i stap lukaot gud long yu,
hem bambae i kaengud long yu, mo i gat sore long yu,
hem bambae i stap lukluk i kam long yu oltaem
blong givhan long yu long gladhat blong hem
mo hem bambae i givim pis long yu.
Namba 6: 24-26

High God will bless you and look out good for you,
he will be kind and good to you, and have feelings for you,
his look will come to you all the time
he will give a hand to you with his glad heart
and he will give peace to you.

Love and peace,

Bruce and Lora Whearty

The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 191