For the past month or so we have been anchored off villages in the 

islands of Vanuatu.

We had arrived from Fiji where the people were engaging and the first 

thing we noticed here is the apparent indifference of the locals to 

our presence.

As it turned out this was not due to a lack to friendliness but simply 

because they are busy going about their own lives with little need for 

interaction with transients wandering amongst their huts or at 

anchor in their bay.

Boats come and go in these parts.

Beyond the basics of clothing and shelter people here live with very 

few possessions .

On closer understanding though they have everything they need.

The structure of their village life is so different to the way we live in 

most parts of the world I thought you might be interested in some of 

the comparisons. If so read on.

 

For a start each village is true community living.

People survive by sharing and trading their skill sets with little need 

for money.

A person who grows bananas will trade them with their neighbor for 

coconuts  or eggs or whatever else they might need.

Everything that grows here and whatever falls on the ground

belongs to someone.

Running around the huts are roosters, chickens, and pigs, often 

chased by dogs of which there are many because there is no control 

on their breeding.

Each family has an allotted piece of land in the village.

When a son marries he and his wife will have their house there.

In the case of a daughter she will go to live in the village of her 

new husband.

Houses are the most basic structures. A timber frame with a raised 

wooden floor and thatched pandanus leaves and split and 

flattened bamboo strips for the walls and roof.

Some houses have corrugated iron for the walls, a gift from 

a Politician on the main island in exchange for their vote.

Inside there is no furniture, just a woven leaf mat to sleep on.

The villagers come together to build a house. 

It takes them about a day.

There is no need for police in these communities. They are 

governed by the village chief over who sometimes presides 

a Grand Chief of all the villages. Important matters involving the 

entire village with a Grand Chief presiding would include the one 

we witnessed, the case of a man accused of infidelity while his wife 

was away visiting another village.

The accused denied this but various villagers raised their hands to 

testify they had seen the man come and go from the other woman’s 

house. It seems in these meetings everyone is allowed to express 

their opinion.

In this case the matter was settled by the accused man giving a gift 

of  a pig and some Kava to I’m not quite sure who.

A few days later there was an event organized by the wife of the 

Grand Chief to facilitate understanding of their culture for the 

visiting Yachties and to promote woman power within the villages.

While my crew learned mat weaving and shredded taro root I sat 

for a long time with the Grand Chief.

He had an exercise book in which was written the single name and 

contact of another yachtsman.

He asked me to add mine which I did as well as handing him my

boat details on a business card which he studied carefully 

and then promised he would call me.

He also asked that when I return I come and live in his village. 

I doubt he meant it though. I asked about burial of the dead here. 

He told me villagers have their own places and village chiefs have 

special ones.

People who were not born in the village are dumped anywhere.

“Because they don’t come from here.” 

Some of the men in the village leave for up to seven months a year 

to earn money fruit picking in New Zealand. While they are away 

the villagers take care of their wives and children. The  money the 

man earns is used to send his children to Port Vila on the main 

island of Efata to continue their education which ends locally at 

intermediate level.

Fishing is a community effort with usually about five outrigger 

canoes  (called pirogue’s) from which nets are cast in a semi 

enclosure. Then some of the fishermen jump into the water and 

splash to frighten the fish into entrapment.

Often it seems this is unsuccessful and they come away with 

nothing. On our last day in Erromango though there was a huge 

haul of Mackerel and a large gathering of people on the beach were 

laughing and whooping. Some had fish stuffed into their pockets.

Because it is a trading economy people usually want supplies

rather than money. I gave a fisherman some wood glue to fix his 

leaking pirogue and a few hours later he returned with a freshly 

woven basket containing bananas, papaya, coconuts and a pumpkin. 

Fishing line, flour, fish hooks and clothing are good trading items 

but I wish I had bought a bag of marbles because all the kids seem 

to play a game with them similar to the French Boules or Petanque.  

The last time I was back in Brooklyn I completely emptied the 

storage locker I’d had since moving back to New York.

Memorabilia  that might be meaningful to my daughters I put aside 

for them. All the boat supplies “that might be useful one day” I gave 

to two friends from the Brooklyn boatyard from where I first set sail.

The rest, books mainly, and the bric-a -brac of life, was donated or 

discarded. 

Now everything I really need is with me on a tiny 27 foot boat.

For the men or schoolkids who leave the villages of Vanuatu to work 

or study in or around modern cities you would think the draw

to stay there would have them not settling back into village life, but 

that seems not to be the case . It may be, just as I was taught 

as a graphic designer, less is more.