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| Turn of the Century Vanuatu Independence Day |
The first volley was fired. I flinched a bit and then the shots rang out again for a second and then a third volley. I was still standing. I checked for holes and then for blood. No, none, thank god they remembered to load the blanks again this year. We had survived our second Vanuatu Independence Day flag raising ceremony.
It's very disconcerting standing in a grandstand a few rows behind the President of the Republic and the Prime Minister and seeing 30 or 40 members of the Police and the Vanuatu Mobile Force (VMF) raise their guns point them in your direction and then fire. Not that there is a history of violent overthrows of government here, but with the coups in Fiji and the Solomon Islands fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder “What if?”
Last year was even a bit more harrowing even without Fiji and the Solomons, because the rifles were pointed just above our heads when they were fired. This year, however, most were pointed directly up in the air. That was a bit more reassuring, but why a salute to the President, as this was, is fired while he faces the guns I will never understand. I’m sure it is a long tradition of European origin, but I don’t get it - a test of courage, perhaps?
Anyway, this year was a very special anniversary for Vanuatu. The 30th of July marked 20 years of Independence from French and British colonial rule. It was a time of great celebration throughout the country and the celebrations started weeks in advance.
The area around the market on Vila’s seafront was transformed into a carnival. Stalls made of the trunks of small trees and palm leaves were built in long rows. These mostly served food that was cooked on fires behind each of the stalls. At the peak of activity during the last week of things, the music blared from each of them. Unfortunately not one was playing the same music. So, as you walked around there was this noise which you could occasionally identify as reggae or pop but mostly reggae, I think. It was hard to say. Sometimes if you were close enough to a source, you might have occasionally identified a song.
A large bandstand was built in the centre of all of this, which added to the “musical” atmosphere. Live bands and groups that put on a variety of shows added to the moment. I stumbled on to the Royal Australian Navy Band playing there one day. They had been flown up from Australia especially to participate in the Independence Day ceremonies.
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| Royal Australian Navy Band in Port Vila |
As I walked along the seafront toward the bandstand area, I heard music that was very familiar. At first I couldn’t quite place it, but then I recognised the theme song of “The Flintstones”. Next it was another very familiar tune, which I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I knew it was a cartoon theme. The Australians were playing a medley of cartoon themes.
As I came around the back of the bandstand, the music stopped and the bandleader took the mike. He asked if the crowd if they like the last number and there was applause. Then he asked, “Did you recognise any of the tunes?” Dead silence followed. A bit crestfallen, he dug himself deeper. “The Roadrunner? Did anyone recognise the Roadrunner theme?” Again, dead silence from the crowd, who now had very confused looks on their faces.
I, of course, was amused. Had he asked these questions in Australia, New Zealand, the US or any other place where Hanna-Barbera had made its mark, a family crowd like this one would have gone crazy. But cartoons of the TV variety have not left their mark in Vanuatu, where TV arrived less than a decade and runs for only 5 hours each day. Add to that the fact that most people don’t have TVs and you get a population that does not know the Roadrunner, Bugs Bunny or the Flintstones in any medium other than occasionally - and that is very occasionally - in print.
Fortunately our bandleader did not belabour the point and moving right a long went on to his next number. He announced that for the next number he would play a very rare instrument. The crowd watched in amazement as he brought out his horn. The band played I don’t remember what and he played his special and rare instrument obviously conceived and designed in his native Australia. The band was very good and there was great applause at the end of the number.
Then our bandleader decided to explain his little instrument. “Does anyone know what this is,” he asked. Silence - again. The guys standing near me moved closer to get a better look. “It’s a hosaphone. It’s nothing more than a piece of garden hose with a funnel stuck in one end,” he said. The crowd burst into applause and some laughter. Our bandleader was finally hitting a cord.
I wandered back along the seafront to where the canoe races were being held. That was what I had come to town for that day. The races were due to start at 10 am and I got there just before. Yes, I know, I should know by now that nothing starts on time in Vanuatu, but I can’t help myself. I know that the one time I turn up late will be the one time that whatever it is I’m going to starts on time.
When I arrived that morning the canoes – traditional dugout canoes - were there and people were paddling up and down along the sea wall. Many canoes were brightly coloured and the clothes of the people in them were brightly coloured as well. All of these colours on the purplish blue water looked amazing.
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| Even the Girls Get to Play |
There were a few spectators at the fence, but not many. I noticed that there were even a few women paddling out there in their Mother Hubbard dresses. This was surprising, because Vanuatu is a very male dominated society and I didn’t think the 'girls' would be allowed to play.
I watched for some time. Up and down along the wall they went. The way it was going, I thought they would be pretty darn tuckered out by the time the race started.
At one stage a young boy’s Independence hat fell into the water. Its colours of Vanuatu’s flag - red, black, green and yellow - added to the colour of the scene as it wafted into the water.
One of the old men along the fence shouted to a canoeist to come over and pick it up. The canoeist obeyed, but unfortunately paddled his canoe over the hat causing it to sink. He eventually fished it out with his paddle and paddled down to the old rusty ladder on the seawall to make the hand over to another man who had climbed down the ladder and who then returned the hat to the grateful boy.
It was now about 10:30. I was starting to get a bit bored waiting about. So, I walked long the wall to where the fence ended at the Rossi Restaurant. This area was home base for the canoes. As I arrived a somewhat miffed older Ni-Vanuatu man was barking a question at a couple of Australian tourists standing near by. He wanted to know if the boat anchored just off the wall was their boat. The boat was “Octopussy”. A local catamaran used for taking tourists around the harbour, but he didn’t seem to realise that. The boat was in the middle of the racecourse and he wanted it moved. The Australians had no idea who the boat belonged to, of course, because they were visiting on the cruise ship that arrived that morning - all white people look the same, I guess...
Anyway soon after, someone appeared on the deck of “Octopussy” and it was moved back out of the way. Unfortunately, this didn’t get us any closer to seeing the race start.
A little after 11:00, as the procession of canoes continued their leisurely pace along the wall, I wandered off to buy some wine for the long weekend. Last year, there had been a surprise ban on alcohol sales imposed on the Friday before Independence Day. The ban was announced at 11:00 and sales stopped at noon. It resulted in a mad dash to the wine shop last year so this year I was planning to stock up early.
Just before I walked away, I had noticed that the women in the canoes had returned to base. They got out. The front ends of the canoes were tipped up to let the water run out the back and then the guys got in and started paddling around.
I got the feeling that I was going to miss the race by going to the wine shop, but I hurried off anyway. As usual, though, there was no need to hurry, because when I got back the action still hadn’t started.
That was when I wandered off to see what was up at the bandstand. As I made my way back from the Royal Australian Navy Band experience, I noticed the canoes were still moving along in the water. As I got closer to the fence, I noticed they were all headed in the same direction out toward an aluminium dinghy.
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| Vanuatu Canoe Race? |
They didn’t seem to be racing. None were really putting much effort into it and the people along the fence watched but there was no excitement. After a while, most of the canoes reached the dinghy and headed back to the Rossi. A couple stayed out there, but back at the Rossi they were taking them out of the water.
Watching paint dry would have been more exciting, but I figured that must have been the race. It was now about noon so I headed home for lunch. I made myself a sandwich and went out to the deck. As I sat there eating and reading, I heard the roar of a crowd across the harbour. I looked up to see small dots racing across the harbour near the sea wall. Two hours and forty-five minutes after the races were to start they finally had, but I missed them.
No news there, though, I'd had a similar missed experience earlier in the week on Children’s Day. I had heard the week before that there was going to be a gathering at the Cultural Centre. Parents had been asked to bring their kids dressed in the custom dress of their home islands. I thought it would be quite interesting to see so I had marked it in my head as one of the things I wanted to attend during the week long official celebrations.
Unfortunately, the night before, I went to the Official Independence Day Programme to see when the procession started only to find it was not listed. There were numerous other things listed like the children’s games at the seafront, but nothing at the Cultural Centre. The next morning I tried to reach the Cultural Centre, but as usual the line was busy. They only have one phone line, which is usually engaged by people calling out. Rob asked around the office, no one knew about it. We called the Radio station. They had no idea. So, I gave up.
Later that morning, I was out on the deck talking to our 'haus gel', Marie. She was cleaning the windows and we were talking about I don’t know what. We heard a band start to play. We are quite some way across the harbour from town, but with nothing but water and air between us, we hear any loud music played in town. It can get quite bad sometimes - so much so that a former accountant neighbour of ours took great joy once putting a nightclub across the harbour into bankruptcy so he could get some sleep.
I mentioned to Marie that there were a lot of bands playing down at the seafront these days and how we can even hear them across the harbour at night. Marie informed me that the music was not coming from the seafront, but was instead coming from the Cultural Centre where the VMF band was playing. I quickly latched on to this and asked if they were playing at the Children’s Day procession. They were indeed, she said. I asked how she knew all about it and was not surprised to find out she had heard it on the radio.
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| Children's Day Custom Dress |
Why the radio station didn’t seem to know about it when we called is beyond me. There is obviously some Ni-Vanuatu code we have not quite cracked, yet. Anyway, I jumped in the car and headed for the Cultural Centre. When I got there, there was no band, but there was a very large sound system and there were a couple of hundred people gathered in the outdoor amphitheatre. Many of the kids were dressed in custom dress. Others were in their school uniforms or decked out in Vanuatu’s colours.
It was all very colourful and I enjoyed watching the dances. And, of course, there were the speeches. They weren't so enjoyable - long and drawn out as usual, but you get use to that after awhile.
Speaking of speeches, the Prime Minister’s speech at the Independence Day Flag Raising Ceremony was a humdinger. Not that there was any problem with the content, but the length posed a problem for some. It was very much a retrospective speech and I guess you'd have to expect twenty years of history to take a while to cover when you tell it day by day, but the programme had led us to believe his speech would be short. It was clearly printed “5 - 10 minutes PM’s Speech.”
The reality, though, was it went on for forty-five minutes! For those of us in the grandstand, it wasn’t too bad. We were sheltered from the sun. For the military people on the field in front of us though it was a different story. They were dressed in their dress uniforms and while it was a cloudy day, every once and a while the clouds broke and the sun beat down for a good ten or fifteen minutes.
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| Suffering the Heat and Long Speeches |
By the time the PM started his speech the VMF, the Police, the Royal Australian Navy Band, the Newcastle crew, the French Army contingent, the Boy Scouts, and the Girl Guides had already been standing in the sun for over 2 hours. The Navy Band and the VMF band had at least had a bit of exercise during that time when they played and marched about. But the others had just stood there usually at attention, in the sun, the heat and the humidity.
It was no surprise when three-quarters of the way through the speech, a member of the VMF collapsed. A stretcher was run on to the field and he was carried off. Just as the stretcher made it to the sidelines another fell. He was revived and able to walk off the field, but the PM carried on. Fortunately, he was almost finished by this point and no more fell that day.
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| Vanuatu's VMF Band Performs The Macarena |
While I’m sure many on the field and maybe a few diplomats didn’t think so, for most of us in the grandstand at Independence Park, the ceremony was a treat. The VMF Band did their traditional rendition of the Macarena complete with hand motions and wiggling behinds, but this year they didn’t do it metres from the PM and President. They were further out in the field.
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| Tanna Cultural Group Begin Dance |
All in all it was a great day and week for that matter. Even the pig that was brought out tied up and squealing at the close of the ceremony went away happy, because the traditional pig killing blow to the head was replaced by a ceremonial touch on the head. It left very much a live on the back of one of the Tanna people.
[Note: This tale was first told in July 2000]
[Note: This tale was first told in July 2000]
Copyright 2000
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