Considering different Universities to go to when I finished school, I opted for the less popular option at my stuffy North Shore girls school – to take a Gap Year. A year off to travel before, what seemed like, the road to the rest of my life began.
Fresh out of high school at the tender age of 17 I left Sydney, Australia to live on the tiny remote island of Pentecost in Vanuatu, nestled quietly in the South Pacific between New Caledonia and Fiji.
Little did I know, that this year away would set me up for a future of traveling for many years to come.
The Beginning
I was able to give 3 preferences of countries I would like to take my Teachers Assistant placement in. I chose Argentina, Chile and Vanuatu. Vanuatu was sort of a last resort, ‘safe’ choice. My parents had moved there only 3 years earlier, so it had become home for me. I was familiar with the local language, the customs and way of life in the capital of Port Vila. It was sort of ironic and a little disheartening, at the time, that I ended up being placed here. I even questioned it with the project company, asking ‘Why did you give me this? I’ve already been here!’ To which they stressed, they needed the most adaptable and prepared people to take on the challenging placements in this country, as the requirements were much more than being a teachers assistant – you would be the teacher. So that was that.
There we were….9 fresh-faced, bright-eyed, clean cut, well-spoken Aussies and English teenagers ready for the adventure of a lifetime. Such a huge contrast to state of us a few short months later.
It was around February when the GAPpers all landed on the main island of Efate – the commercial, touristic and government centre of the country. I was basically a local by that point of the summer, there to greet everyone at the airport at the beginning of our orientation week, pointing out the sights around town as we were whisked up to a dodgy hostel. I wasn’t quite ready for mosquito nets, roaches and paper thin mattresses just yet. Luckily for me, I was able to take advantage of still being close to home to savour the luxury of my own bed for a little while longer.
After a few days of ‘civilisation’, gathering last minute supplies and playing tourists in Vila where we could still wander around in pants or short skirts, we were shipped off to Nguna….
A Taste Of Village Life
Nguna Island is just a couple of kilometres by a rickety long boat off the north coast of Efate. Here we spent a few days ‘acclimatising’ to our new barefoot lifestyle. We were all separated to stay with different families and immersed in the day to day activities of village life – tending to the gardens, playing volley ball and cards, scraping coconut, making lap lap, trying Kava and dancing. By the end of our stay we all had braided hair, an appetite for muddy water, new island mumu’s and pink cheeks.
My Sweet Ranwadi
The four of us girls were sent to Ranwadi High School on Pentecost, a long and skinny island famed for its Land Diving as the ‘Original Bungey Jump’. Ranwadi sits humbly on a hilltop overlooking the calm and sparkling ocean below, surrounded by dense rainforest and waterfalls that are fringed by pristine beaches. Here, I became a teacher of Grades 7-9 in Social Science, English & Sport and started after-school Art & Drama clubs.
I may have taught, but boy did I learn!
Pentecost Island is extremely rich in culture, its inhabitants still leading a very traditional ‘island lifestyle’ just as their ancestors did centuries ago. With no cell phones, computers, TVs, gadgets or even electricity, I learnt how to rise with the sun and finish my day by sunset, how to survive off the natural resources of the land, how to sit and tell stories for hours on end and most importantly –
how to live slowly. I spent afternoons wading in the ocean in front of the school, strolling through coconut tree farms in search of waterfalls and swimming holes, while weekends were spent taking long walks between villages, telling stories with the locals and picking fresh papaya along the way.
Despite my broken Bislama (the official language of Vanuatu), being half Fijian, my rounded brown face and big smile was welcomed by the kids here who, for the reason of familiarity, took an instant liking to me. This helped to relieve my nerves a little of the fact that being the youngest GAPper I was in some cases, teaching kids if not the same age, only a year or two younger than me.
Days started at around 4:30AM, beating a hollowed out tree stump to wake up that mornings’ breakfast preparers. This was a different kind of boarding school. Dorms housed one or two grades in a concrete floored, tin roof building filled with steel bunk beds. Kids would come down to the typical dirt floored island kitchen where giant pots of hot water would be stemming above a wood fire, and fresh bread being taken out of the island oven. Each student would get one thick slice of bread, a dollop of jam and a pot of tea to share amongst their table of ten. While the kids were eating, I would turn my back every now and then to admire the incredible view over the sea of the outline of Ambae’s volcano in the distance.
A Favourite Memory
Sundays were my favourite. Every week the school choir would meet in the chapel after dark to sing hymns by candlelight. We would bake shortbread and take it down to the library to sit on the balcony on a woven mat, cover ourselves in sarongs and just sit back to take in the place we now called home. The serenading would last long into the night, into the early hours of the morning – an experience I don’t think i’ll find anywhere else in the world.
To be continued….
The Hibiscus Traveller 