In Memory

Host family relationships are all unique. Some volunteers take to their family immediately, as does their family to them. Others take a little time to get comfortable but eventually are able to form a strong bond with their family. Some others find the ability to build or sustain the host family relationship difficult; others would prefer to be completely on their own. Every volunteer I know falls somewhere on this spectrum and can attest to the challenges associated with building this relationship.

When I first arrived at site, I was sure that I was going to be close with my host family but knew it would take a little while to formulate a good relationship. Luckily getting to know someone in this country is as simple as sitting down with them to storian or following them to the garden to work. For my host Mami, we were confined to getting to know each other while sitting down inside or outside of our family’s kitchen. On the first day I got to Matanvat a big group of people welcomed me outside my house. Everyone came up to me to shake hands and when my Mami did it was impossible not to notice the frailness of her body, even though she hid it so well with her smile. Throughout the months to come I learned that she was suffering from diabetes, and had been for the last 5 years. My family also believed that there was a bad spirit in the form of a “smol pikinini we hemi blak wei blak” (a small child who was very black) who was haunting her and making her sick.

As the months went on I watched her grow weaker, regardless of careful attention to her diet and regular trips to the village dispensary. When I first arrived she was walking unaided. However, not long after she began needing a walking stick and by the end of October she was so weak she needed help standing up and sitting down. By November she was confined to her mattress and under the care of my loving host Dadi, brothers and sisters. When Pete met her in December she was spending the days outside on her mattress and under a mosquito net so that she could be comfortable in the fresh breeze and still interact with the family. Luckily there was plenty of family around. My brothers and sister who live in Vila made their way to Malekula to be with her in her final moments and family was constantly flowing in and out of the house to pray with her.

 I was out of the village for the rest of December and most of January and when I returned on January 27^th, she was on her mattress inside of the house, barely able to communicate or do much else. As soon as I arrived back in Matanvat I ran into the house to see her. She recognized me and we got to have a short exchange in her local language which I’m trying to learn. I also gave her a photo of her mom who I had seen in Vila and a photo of our family with Pete during his visit. After that, all I could do was let her rest.

Day and night my brothers, sisters and host Dadi were by her side singing, praying and just being there. Unforeseen circumstances pulled me out of the village a few days later and I returned on February 9^th to find her still holding on. The next few days were full of singing, praying and just hoping for her comfort. I could tell that everyone knew the end was near, including my Mami, but that they knew that although it would be heartbreaking to lose her, she was in so much pain that it was going to be the best thing for her. At 9am on February 13^th, she passed away in the arms of my Dadi and sister Eslinah who told her not to worry, that Jesus was going to take care of her now. My Mami said she was ready and moments later, she took her last breath.

Unfortunately I wasn’t in the village right when she passed; I had gone to Lakatoro for a Library Association meeting that never happened, so this story is only one recalled to me by my sister. As soon as I got a call from my brother Joses at 11am, I knew what he was going to tell me. I ran to the market to find the first truck back to Matanvat and arrived just in time to see her before she went into her coffin.

Deaths in Vanuatu are different than I could have ever imagined. I know I’ve described them some before but experiencing one first hand really opened my eyes to the complexity of mourning across cultures. Death in Vanuatu is a village wide, often island wide affair. Hundreds of people filtered in and out of my family’s house that week. Through the 5^th day after her death people were coming from far distances to share their sorrow, cry with my Dadi and share memories of my Mami. Crying is very vocal, and very loud. You can often know about a death by the high pitched wailing in the air before the message even reaches you. It’s powerful, emotional and almost scary, especially when you’re someone who comes from a culture where mourning is a more private, silent affair.

When my Mami took her last breath, everything stopped in the village and everyone showed up to help. School was canceled until further notice; no work was to be done. The time was for mourning and remembering and wishing my Mami a safe passage into the next stage, whatever that might be.  

When people came through the house they brought lots of food, often large bags of rice, big bunches of bananas, yams or cassava, live chickens, fish and tins of tuna and meat, in order to help feed the massive numbers of guest mourners. The presence of all these people is embraced and indicates a sense of “status” within the community. My Dadi is a small chief in our community and a well-known man throughout Malekula. In addition, my Mami was a wonderful woman who raised just as many kids of other people as she did kids of her own (which was 9!), including all of her younger siblings who came to live with her when she married my Dadi. She also worked hard manual labor on the plantation, in the garden and helped my Dadi establish Matanvat Centre School 30 years ago. No surprise that she was surrounded by countless people who loved her, even after she left our world.

The first five days after her death were spent talking with the guests who came to mourn, helping my brothers and tawis cook for all the guests and family and trying not to cry every time I looked at my host Dadi. While I was heartbroken to lose my Mami, I will never forget the pain that showed in her eyes as she suffered with her illness. She is undoubtedly more comfortable now and made an unforgettable impact on my life as well as the lives of so many people who came to show they loved her. The most challenging part of her death was watching my Dadi struggle through each new group of people coming to mourn and stir up his grief once again. While the guests are embraced and their presence is comforting, I couldn’t help but wish my Dadi, brothers and sisters could just have time to process everything on their own, without being reminded that my Mami was gone with the arrival of every new group. Eventually the crowds died down and after the 5^th day they were given their own time to grieve.

The 5^th day anniversary was a special day where people who had previously come to share their sorrow returned and others who had not been able to come also joined in for a big day for my Mami. My oldest brother was responsible for the custom ceremony, which included the sharing of the food that had been donated by all the guests. As a way of saying thank you for helping during the week and for showing respect to custom, my brother called out people individually to give them bags of rice, chickens and big pieces of fresh beef. They had killed three cows for the event so that they could give each family a share to show their thanks. I was watching all this, watching big strong men slowly approach with tears swelling in their eyes to take their share of the custom offerings, just in awe of the event. Then, I heard them call my name, “Laura Pis Kop” and immediately started crying again. I went up to my brother and he handed my two bags of rice, a chicken and a big piece of beef to say thank you for helping out that week. I felt so much love at that moment.

After the custom sharing we ate laplap and families made their way back to their own houses and eventually it was just my family left. The 10^th day anniversary was the next milestone so between the 5^th and 10^th days we all just hung around the house, keeping my Dadi company and telling stories about my Mami. On the 10^th day people from all over Matanvat came to our house again and we had about 8 laplaps between everyone. Only a few words were said but it was more about bringing everyone together in memory of my Mami than anything else.

The number of these anniversaries depends on village and family. My family decided to do a 10 day which people outside of the family were welcome to join in, but the rest of the anniversaries will be simply a small family affair. The next anniversary will be the 30 day, then 100 day and then in December we will be making her grave. Right now she is in her coffin in the ground but only covered with stones, colorful calico and flowers. In December my brothers will make a nice grave for her and once again we will celebrate her memory.

I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to know and spend time with my Mami, but know that she is resting comfortably now, just waiting for us to join her. I can see my Dadi becoming steadily stronger and back to his normal self, but try to do what I can to keep him company and keep his mind occupied. I have seen many relationships in Vanuatu that include little true love, but can honestly say that my Dadi loved my Mami more than anything and took care of her to her last moments. We have decided to dedicate the library I am working to renovate to her memory, as someone who put her heart and soul into the school as well as all the children she helped follow their dreams inside and outside of its walls. 

While the weeks that have passed have been full of sadness as well as cultural challenges, I am so thankful for being able to have the time to spend with my host family, getting to know them better and strengthening our bonds of love and friendship. Throughout the last few weeks I have experienced an indescribable rejuvenation of the love I have for my family and a deeper bond with individual family members that I am so very thankful for.