Ninigo: photographs and memories

Hopefully, a few photos and anecdotes can help communicate the good memories we have of our time in Ninigo.

Our children were a little shy at first, but there's nothing like getting to hold a shy, docile pet cuscus (tree kangaroo) to help them loosen up. We're told these are food for islanders, but "Boiman" was doted on. In a culture where animals don't get this kind of gentle treatment, we doubt he'll ever end up in a cooking pot.

The kids tried paddling the smaller dugouts on the beach. I suppose these are the sub-compact cars of Ninigo. With no outrigger, these boats are extremely tippy to the unpracticed, as they soon found out! I have newfound respect for the careful balance of visitors to Totem, who lift themselves carefully up to our deck from these wobbly boats.

The day after we arrived, we brought in the treasures from Anui. Lots of excitement, lots of fun opening gifts. Sarah knew exactly what people would want or need, and had thoughtful gifts that were both practical (cotton fabric yardage, elastic bands for making clothes) and sweet (prepared photo albums with pictures of the families from Mal and from Anui during their stay in 2011).

Fidelma is the daughter of Thomas' brother Joseph. She was my escort on a few occasions. I thought it was a little funny, but  mostly very charming, that I wasn't allowed to walk anywhere alone. Although there is ONE footpath that connects the smaller villages with the main village running the length of this long, skinny island- so basically, no possibility of getting lost- I always had a guide. "There could be dogs that bite!" No, not these skittish creatures.

One day, Fidelma came with me so I could bring a letter to one of the teachers down in the village. As we were there, her parents sailed in- they'd been at an island a full day/night sail south of the atoll and were just returning. Joseph and Mariann caught some lovely tuna on the way, and insisted on sharing a portion with us (actually, they tried to give us a whole fish- we allowed a tail chunk, more than enough, knowing they'll use the head and better than we will).

Rather than walk a couple of km back around the crescent curve of the island, Fidelma and I sailed back with her parents. They were concerned that I understand it could be a wet- was that OK? (was that OK?! Heck yes!)  I've been reading David Lewis' "We, the Navigators" about the remarkable traditional navigation  skills of Pacific islanders. He writes about Ninigo, and their long distance forays to micronesian islands. Look on a map, and it's really like finding the proverbial needle in the haystack. I wish I could have spent enough time in Ninigo to somehow earned the right to hear from Joseph about navigation. There wasn't exactly a GPS on board.

Sitting with Thomas on a new canoe he's building, we had a long talk about finning one afternoon. It's something they've done, like pretty much every islander we have met in PNG, but it's not what they want to do. Fraught with danger (poor weather and navigation tools, not to mention, can YOU imagine landing a thrashing shark in one of these dugouts?), it's still a good source of kina. "Money makes men brave," Thomas tells us.

Trochus shell collection on the atoll's reefs is becoming a popular alternative, but it's not regulated. I know we have been in areas (French Polynesia comes to mind) where collecting these was forbidden- presumably, it will be overfished next.

Meanwhile, the fishing on the reef was pretty good- we saw a number of sizeable fish, something that hasn't happened a lot in PNG. But the local guys were really willing to take fish of all sizes, and there was no clear plan for managing the fishery.

But we did get some pretty great fish on our trip to the outer reef. these were good, but even better are those homemade spear guns- seriously impressive gear. It was tempting to swap!

More photos on Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/giffordclan/tags/ninigo.

Citizens of Ninigo

“You must change your citizenship,” Thomas tells us. “You are from Ninigo now!”

Ninigo sailing canoe: these islanders are famous for their navigators

Thomas is our host, the elder on shore from our anchorage at Mal Island in Ninigo atoll. After nearly a week on Ninigo, this sums up how we feel: a member of the family, newly christened citizens.

We’ve been anticipating coming to Ninigo for months. Back in August, while researching destinations in PNG, I came across the blog of the boat Anui. Sarah raved about their family’s experiences in Ninigo, as Anui returned to Australia from Thailand via Malaysia, Indonesia, and PNG. We were following a route similar to the path we were considering- just in the reverse, so I sent an email to Sarah. I know what it’s like to form a strong bond with people you meet while cruising, and could see how remote the Ninigo islands are, so asked her if we could bring anything from her family.

I suppose it is a testament to the spirit of trust and help between cruisers that Sarah readily sent us a box full of gifts for her PNG family on Ninigo. Not just a box, but a guitar too- to the crew on Totem, who she had never met or heard of until getting that email. We were so happy to help them with this delivery, carrying the goods for two months and many miles from our departure port of Bundaberg until we arrived at Ninigo in December.

Thomas and family knew, roughly (give or take a few weeks!) when we’d be arriving- his son in law on Manus has email contact with Sarah, and word had come through that we were coming with gifts from the Anui family. So perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that as we entered the lagoon, a boat motored up to see if we were Sarah’s friends. Yes!  We invited Thomas on board, and he helped pilot us to a secure anchorage near his family’s village, while his son brought the boat (and occupants- this was the largest welcoming committee yet) back alongside Totem.

Our days flew by: playing on the beach in front of Thomas or Wesley’s villages. Holding baby Finn, named for Anui’s son Finn- hoping he’d lose his fear of my pale face. Sailing across the lagoon in an outrigger with Fidelma and family. Sitting under a palm tree while Wesley’s auntie weaves us a basket, braiding the girls’ hair with my new sister Mollina. Going to the garden with Thomas’ wife Elizabeth, learning about the different varieties of bananas, coconut, sweet potato and other vegetables they grow. Sharing recipes for eggplant, which they have grown from donated seeds but had no experience cooking. Sitting in the shade on a Sunday afternoon, watching soccer teams from around the atoll compete in a semi-weekly tournament. Going toward the outer reef with a boatful of our new friends for spearfishing adventures and a little snorkeling. Evenings hosted on Totem: eating the juicy fruit we brought from the lush Hermits that can’t grow in the atoll’s thin soil, counting the stars, watching the bioluminescence swirl in current around the boat.

It’s hard to explain how the welcome here felt, but it was as if we already knew them, and they already knew us. We were old friends, meeting again after time and space intervened. It was amazing. This will go down as one of our favorite places (the favorite?) in a country that we have found the most fascinating by far of our cruising adventures to date.

I am so grateful to Sarah and her family, giving us the awesome gift of getting to know these special people - for letting us be the ambassadors who turned citizens.

Making friends in the Louisiades: learning Misima dialect

Connecting with people in the places we visit, learning about our similarities and differences, is something I truly enjoy. Demonstrating interest by knowing some of their language is a great way to start.



This is complicated by the vast number of languages we faced, first in Papua New Guinea and now here in Indonesia. Tok Pisin (pidgin) and English are actually the two official PNG languages, but everyone speaks a local dialect (and often several other neighboring dialects). The range of that dialect may be limited to a speck of an island, a valley, or even a village. They are strikingly different- truly mutually unintelligible, as opposed to tweaks on a single language. Seems daunting!

It turns out that there is a dominant local dialect in much of the Louisiades that simplifies the process- Misima, the largest island, covers many of the islands at the eastern end. Tok Pisin isn’t used much in this area- unless they’ve had education beyond primary years, most people aren’t exposed to it much. But many people speak Misima dialect, even if they aren’t in the relatively large area it encompasses.



I had excellent tutors when we arrived in Papua New Guinea: Bela and Derek on s/v Pandana have spent years cruising the area, and Bela is enthusiastically conversant in Misima dialect. Thanks to her enthusiasm and the smiling help of Rubin and his fishermen brothers, I had a few basic words and phrases to grow over the coming weeks.

I believe taking the time is really, really worthwhile. Here’s a collection of what I learned and found helpful. It’s not based on anything but my own pathetic transliteration. There is probably pidgin mixed in. But for making friends in the Louisiades, it will help to crack smiles, open doors, and put you on trusted ground.

Misima Dialect words and phrases
good morning	melaluga waiwaisana	from dawn to midmorning
good day (really, 10-3)	alalati waiwasana	this is used during the hot part of the day
good afternoon	kokoyave waiwaisana	from about 3pm until nightfall
good evening	bulin waiwai sana	bulin literally means 'star'
goodbye	kai yun
thank you	ateu owa	literally, heart person. Sweet.
what's your name?	halam ek?	both the 'h' and the 'k' are nearly silent
my name is (name)	alau (name)
his/ner name is (name)	alula na (name)
what are you doing?	hau na ku gigi nor?	use this when speaking to several people
what are you doing?	hau na u gigi nor?	use this when speaking to just one person
just living	hau minamina	this is the common response
how are you?	ham nam gai wa?
I'm good	am nam wai si	this is the common response
where are you going?	gao na na?
I'll be back	a na ki te wa	this is the common response
good	wai si	also, i wai si: it's good.
very good	wai si hot	also used for delicious
bad	inak
bad man	inak kina
trading	pem penpewa
you give	u pem
I give	ya pewa
sister/brother	taliu	not literally a relative- common reference
sister/brother	gan	for an elder/respectful
what do you want?	hau na nu wam?
I want (item)	nu wam (item)
do you have…	tab…
Do you have bananas?	tab suva?
he/she/it	he
they	i
sail / sailing	kuki
sail to Misima	kuki Misima
let's sail	ta kuki
cooking	liga liga
washing (body)	hig hig
washing (dishes)	ul ul
don't!	bahi wa!
don't do it	bahi wa nu gi nor.
come here	unem
get down	ulau
swim	gayu
building a house	himi tao tao
sit down	mi si yo
garden	eyowa
basket	eyoga
knife	kai ni	give me the knife: kai ni pem. VERY useful, see prior post!
water	wara
rain	ke he i lau
water	wara
baby	wawaya
old man	tonowak
man	tau
woman	yova
people	gamagal
canoe	waga	this generically refers to different boat types
medicine	sawa sawal
modern medicine	dim dim wali sawa sawal
drinking coconut	matu
coconut	bwaku
betelnut	lele
clothes	kaliko
banana	suva

Papua New Guinea: kids and knives

It’s daunting the first time you see a grown man walking down a path with a large machete swinging at his side. In PNG, one quickly becomes inured to this sight. Sharp knives as common an accessory as the mobile phone at home. Everyone- and I mean, everyone- carries a knife. How else to you open a coconut, whack down coconut palms, sever a banana stem, trim a pandanus frond, cut open a fish… etc., etc., etc.! What really caught my attention is how children are quite adept and comfortable with knives. Big knives. Sharp knives. It startled me at first, but nobody is terribly concerned about this…and it seems, they don’t need to be.

This little guy was helping his grandfather crack coconuts for copra. Grandpa husked them nearby, and tossed the shells to the boy to crack, drain, and set aside for drying.

   

I loved this little girl in the Kavieng market. She was hanging out with her mom, who was selling a small selection of vegetables on a mat at one end of the covered stalls, just picking at random stuff with her knife. Her mom said she was 3, then corrected herself and said she was 2. Hmm.

Alithy here, on the right, designated herself my handler during much of our stay at Brooker. She and her friend Elizabeth need that handy knife to deal with the fish they’re catching, of course. 

This cutie was just hanging out with a knife, following his mom and aunties to the sewing machine repair station that was set up for Jamie at the Hermits. No worries.

 

When we sit down with new friends, we are often offered a drinking coconut. Seems it’s handy to have a four year old with a knife around to open the coconuts for one’s guests. 

Papua New Guinea. No helicopter parents here, but lots of happy kids with mad knife skills.

Boat jobs are colorblind

It’s raft-up time again, and this month a handful of cruising bloggers are talking about the division of labor on board- specifically, how we split responsibility along “pink” vs “blue” jobs, or  “kid jobs” for those of us with children aboard.

Just hanging out looking manly, wondering what blue jobs to do

Confession: I think this is a crock. It bothers me that “pink and blue jobs” rates as a theme to address. Then again, step near the toy aisles of any mass merchant, and there is an alarming degree of color coding that leaves no room for speculation over which row of froth is intended for girls, and which row of action is intended for boys. Ridiculous.

Shouldn’t we have outgrown all of this a very long time ago? Why do areas of responsibility have to be drawn along gender stereotypes to such an extent that without any listing on my part, you imagine exactly which jobs are supposed to be pink and which jobs are supposed to be blue? Shouldn’t we be talking about individual strengths? About what we want to do, and what we want to learn?

So, I’m not going to talk about it at all, but I will do more than just rant that the discussion of labor division on board should be reframed, and gender/color coding needs to go the way of the dinosaurs.

It is inevitable that tasks in running a household, whether it floats on water or sits on soil, will be divided for efficiency and economy. Whoever can handle a given area of responsibility faster or better is probably going to be doing it 90% of the time: we play to our respective strengths, regardless of gender.

If we want to examine the division of labor on board, there are a few more important questions to consider.

Is it divided fairly in terms of effort required? If one crewmember feel they carry too much of any one burden, it could foster resentment.

What happens if one crew member is incapacitated? It’s clearly a problem if there are tasks that only that person knows how to do.

Do you appreciate the work your partner tends to do? Make sure you swap responsibilities around now and then, not only to make sure there is baseline capability on both sides, but to understand what’s involved for a task that one person tends to do. We might all make assumptions about what is hard (or not) from the outside.

Are there things you should both do together? Do you want to learn jobs that are your partner’s expertise? What are things that either of you can do, that you should make sure you trade off?

One of my cruising mentors is the awesome Nancy Erley, who I took training classes from back in 2005. She’s circumnavigated twice, as captain of her boat, with all women crew- if we need any reminder that "blue jobs" are an artificial distinction. One of many things I learned from Nancy is that if there is something on the boat that I cannot do based on my physical size or strength, the limitation is not mine. It is not necessary to default to the larger / stronger man on board to handle that job. The real problem is the boat needs to be modified so that I can accomplish the job.

Click on the monkey's fist to read others bloggers on this topic.

Oh, we had plenty of fun, too

From the posts about the Hermit islands earlier this week, it might seem that we didn’t get to play very much while we were there. Hardly true!

It wasn't all about the awesome whales, either. Photo by Nalukai.

We spent a lot of time in the water. There was the unforgettable experience of swimming with whales in the lagoon, something we’ll never forget. Snorkeling even right off the boat was fantastic. Hermit Islanders are Seventh Day Adventists, so they don’t eat shellfish. This means that live giant clams dot the bottom of the reef, even right in front of the village. It was easy to spot the large painted crayfish- strikingly colored lobsters- poking their long antennae out of holes in the coral. Normally we’d never be able to find these creatures right in front of a village, as they’d have all been taken for food.

One morning, when Siobhan and I were out for a little paddle on the coral heads behind Totem, we drifted over the top only to surprise a dozing turtle just a few meters below. We’ve seen quite a few, but not always so close or so… well, so still. Turtles in the Pacific have pretty good instincts with regard to human invaders (protected or not, they are actively hunted) so our most common view is of the back half of their shell as they jet away. This guy was happy to just check us out, then languidly move out from under his coral head hideaway before slowly drifting away to deeper water. Siobhan was beside herself with excitement and had trouble containing her enthusiasm until the giant was out of sight.

Another day, we piled on Sea Glass and Bob guided us to an anchorage to the south. There, where water funneled through a pass, was the nutrient rich brew that giant mantas feed upon. They’re resident here, but the likelihood of seeing them varies with the moon phase- and unfortunately for us, we were there at the full moon, the lowest probability of spotting mantas. There weren’t any that afternoon, but Sea Glass saw several on their morning snorkel with the incoming tide- and we had a beautiful afternoon adventure regardless, with more turtles, fish, and the company of dolphins along the way.

We really didn’t scratch the surface of experiences at the Hermits. Bob is an adept diver, and if we had the gear, could have taken us to walls on the outer reef. There’s a spot where sharks gather outside the reef, if we want to see them en masse. We know from our friends who came through here last year- Endless Summer, Elena, Sea Level- that the snorkeling outside the reef is truly spectacular. But we’re unlucky with our conditions. A nasty system north of us is too distant to kick up high winds, but it sends surf from afar that makes these exposed outside walls of the reef untenable to visit.

In truth, however, some of the most fun I have is just sitting around with people we meet in the village. Being Jamie’s sidekick on the sewing machine expedition. Playing with children as we linger at Bob’s home over computer lessons. Squatting in a kitchen hut, listening to women gossip while stirring sago. Sitting on a log talking to Chief Joseph, hearing the elder statesman’s stories of his childhood and WWII. We’ll see a lot of pretty fish down the line, but these are unique memories I’ll always carry.

The exotic cruising life: a wild day of… fixing sewing machines

Another day at the Hermits: Jamie learns that there’s a broken sewing machine ashore. Having worked for years as a sailmaker, he’s well versed in the mechanics of machines and has the  skills to help. OK, no problem, we set a time for 8am the next day to go in and meet with the woman who needs her machine fixed.

The sewing machine fix-it station – Hermit Islands

When we go ashore the following morning for Jamie’s sewing machine date, it becomes apparent it’s not just one. A small group has gathered and there are a half dozen manual Singer machines in various states of repair arranged on a large table outside. More machines turn up over the course of the morning. This is rapidly shaping into an all-day event.

No problem!

There are trees to climb.

Dogs to cuddle.

Pictures to draw.

Friends to make.

Many of the machines looked like they hadn't been oiled in a long time, and simply needed routine maintenance. One had been dropped and required a little forceful tweaking to become operational. Two of them hosted colonies of cockroaches. We just hustled the chickens over to grab what they could and left those for later!

Meta designates himself as the point person for repairs later, and sits with Jamie to learn about the various issues. Smoothing burrs that chafe thread, learning mechanics for fixing the timing, locating the dozen points that need oiling- often- to keep the machine running smoothly.

Jamie and Meta work on a machine

Gifts of fruit, vegetables, and beautiful shells start accumulating. By the end of the afternoon, it takes the help of two other people to carry the edible expressions of thanks back to Totem. The final tally was Sewing Machines, 2: Jamie, 7.

I think we can declare victory!