'I didn't expect to find': Shared Values in Island Time

by Jessica Tselepy (Australia)

I didn't expect to find Australia

Sitting in the silent last rays of the day on the shore of Lelepa, I looked out onto the curves of Eretoka island. The small hat-shaped island seemed to rest as guardian of the passage into the wide seas beyond. With a crown of coral lime at its centre, surrounded by sandy shores and limestone, ‘Hat Island’ seemed to stand proudly as an ancient protector of this beautiful place. When I was first asked to help lead a group of high school students to visit the Pacific island nation of Vanuatu, I wasn’t sure how to feel. In truth, I had very limited knowledge about the Pacific islands. I have typically been drawn in my overseas adventures to high snowy peaks and great national parks. I had dismissed island vacations as suited more towards the ‘relaxing’ types. This dismissal, as I soon found out, was keeping me from exciting discoveries of new nature and culture. Our group travelled into the capital Port Vila to begin our journey. Lucky for us, we would spend the majority of our time in Vanuatu on the smaller island of Lelepa off the northwest coast of the much larger, and more modernised, island of Efate. With a distinct language, leadership, and culture, Lelepa gave us a rare insight into the traditions of a people profoundly tied to their island and the seas surrounding. As we explored Lelepa, local families greeted us with wide smiles. Women in bright local dresses peered up from their daily work with warm welcomes. Men waved on their way winding through the narrow paths that connected hundreds of homes in a flowing community. The concept of ‘island time’ was apparent in every action we saw, both of the people and even the animals and trees around us. Every part of the community seemed to accept whatever happened in the moment. One afternoon, after a morning of swimming in the low tides and helping out with some community work, I wondered down the path by the sea. The sun was beating down through the looming trees along the shore. Children chased each other through houses, and local dogs sidled lazily by. I came across two older men working in silence together. It was Stephen and his childhood friend, who had both grown up on the island together. He stopped from his work of skilfully carving the inside of a new canoe to invite me over. Excited for an opportunity to learn, I asked Stephen many questions about the history of the canoes. Stephen, the good-natured man that he is, answered each with patience and an enthusiasm to share his own experience. He lamented the lack of interest of the younger generation in learning the traditional skill of building local canoes. In fact, Stephen was one of the last few on the island who had the skills learnt by his father. He was excited, however, to race the canoe he was building at the upcoming local New Year’s canoe race, to share this traditional knowledge with the younger people. It was clear he cared deeply for his home and continuing the knowledge of his people and family for generations to come. I left Stephen that day with an appreciation of where his care stemmed from. I recognised it within myself: the desire to share culture and appreciation of home land with others. The seas reaching out past Eretoka connected directly onwards to my home in Brisbane. Australia felt like another world away at times during my stay. But as I listened to the local children play in the splashing waves that united this land to my own, I felt an overwhelming sense of the connection of our two homes and their peoples. We both cared greatly for our families and their happiness. We both loved the stunning nature that we were fortunate to live in. We both took pride in sharing our land and stories. For those Australians who were like me and have not considered venturing into the island cultures to our east, I urge you to take the chance when you can. You will leave with a great gift: the capacity to really feel appreciation for nature, neighbours, and new adventures!