Nuku Hiva, Marquesas, French Polynesia
07242011, 1622 local time/ 07252011, 0352 GMT
As I said in my first blog posting, I want to learn about mankind on this trip. I want to meet as many people from as many different cultures as possible in order to find out why my own kind is incapable of living together in peace and why we so diligently destroy the world we’re living in, rendering it uninhabitable. I think I have reason to believe that the majority of mankind is not bad or evil—so what makes us fight? I hope to maybe find a common code of ethics during my travels that suits every culture’s idiosyncrasies, and that could help all people live together in peace despite their different beliefs.
I have made some first observations about the Nuku Hivans. I will try to judge as little as possible, because judgmentalness is likely one of the major problems of our time. I will merely relate my encounters with these and six other people.
In Nuku Hiva, it would be hard for us to starve, even if we desired that, because everyone keeps giving us all kinds of food. It would be hard to get rained on, because people offer us shelter wherever we go. It is even hard to hike, because everyone driving by wants to give us a ride.
When we set out for the little town of Taipivai, for example, we didn’t even make it out of Taioha’e before an old lady told us to hop into the bed of her pick-up truck. In Taipivai we told her we were looking for a place to pitch our tent, so she commenced finding a place where we could camp. When she asked a group of youngsters about this matter, one of them, Te’iki, told us to follow him. Five minutes later he led us into a spartan guestroom of his parents’ little plywood house, told us to take a shower, and asked us to hand him our dirty laundry, which he intended to wash.
Six of the seven family members gathered around the kitchen table for dinner. They did not have glass in the windows and the shower was merely a permanently attached hose in a corner that is separated from the kitchen by a few cinder blocks. And yet they made a fine cut of beef for dinner and lots of it.
Overall, they seemed, if possible, even happier to have us than we were to have a bed for the night. An interesting thing was the fact that two of their three sons were mahu, transvestites. Mahu are an important part of Polynesian culture. Tolerance is not even an issue here, it is not required. When everybody—no matter what their beliefs, desires, or problems are—is a fully integrated and accepted part of society, no one needs to just be tolerated. I hope this doesn’t sound like I’m judging this to be good, because I do not want to judge. It does, however, appear to me that acceptance might be a more valid way to world peace than fear-born, uneducated raging.
Nuku Hivans are like Mandy, who—in a cheesy eighties song—gave without taking. The difference is that they are not cheesy. Their hospitality and friendliness comes absolutely naturally.
On our first day in Colette Bay, a remote little bay close to Taioha’e, where we spent three days, a woman gave us a mango for no other reason than the fact that we walked by her. We wanted to return the favor, so we went to the tent to get a couple of cigarettes. We had seen her husband smoke, and cigarettes are the only thing we have that people could possibly be interested in. The husband, who also goes by the rather common name of Te’iki, took a cigarette, but the feeling we might be even on favors didn’t stay for long. After that they started feeding us like no one’s business, gave us beer, which is anything but cheap here, and even wrapped up some cake for later. Before we left, Te’iki made sure to also pass us some weed, before we could even explain that we barely ever smoke dope.
He told us that over the centuries, his people had been hospitable and nice to everyone. He said things had changed and these days everybody cares about money too much. I should probably believe him, seeing that he knows the people here better, but after a month on the island I have yet to encounter that type of attitude.
Even drunken youngsters, in most places in the world a potentially aggressive lot, will do nothing but invite us to hang out with them, share their spendy beverages, and smoke with them. Weed is offered to us as often as fruit. But it is never a questionable dude in a questionable neighborhood muttering a creepy question. No one wants to sell us anything—they just want to give. There is enough for everyone.
In Taipivai we had to strike our camp on a beautiful and remote beach rather suddenly, when on the third day the tide came in two feet higher than the days before, washing into our tent. We decided to go to Hatiheu that night, for setting up camp in a different spot in Taipivai and then striking it again in the morning didn’t seem to make sense. The road led over a 1400 foot high pass and the 175 pounds or so of luggage on our backs slowed our steps. We left Taipivai after dark, which falls early here, and at that time of the day no more cars went our way. After about an hour, though, a car came across the other way. And that’s apparently all it takes to get a ride here. The driver turned around and came back for us, only to drive back to Taipivai after dropping us off in Hatiheu. The detour probably cost him at least 45 minutes, for even with a car, progress is slow on the winding, pot-holey dirt roads of Nuku Hiva. He never asked for anything in return.
A couple days later we went to the tiny town of Anaho. Anaho is located in a beautiful bay and can only be reached by foot, horse, or boat. An eleven-year-old boy called Mano’a, who soon became our friend, told us to camp outside his parents’ yard. The funny thing is that his parents actually run a pension with five bungalows. It is their business to rent these out to people like us—tourists. Nonetheless they were not only OK with us camping by their yard, they even let us use the bathroom in one of the bungalows and their kitchen for cooking. They gave us coffee and breakfast in the mornings and offered us whiskey and weed at night. When bored, the man of the house, Tu’aki, would entertain us with traditional music that he played on the ukulele or guitar. They also let us use their kayaks to explore the bay.
The day we wanted to get our Nuku Hivan tattoos, the ATM was out of order. We asked the tattoo artist if we could maybe pay him the next day. I had little hope, seeing that we are tourists. We could easily be gone by the next day with our unpaid tattoos on our bodies. He, however, said he trusted us and went ahead with his work.
The list of nice, selfless deeds that were done to us is long. A random dude gives us two huge bags of super ripe and sweet grapefruits and a bag of bananas. Another one drives us to his backyard to pick fruits off his trees before driving us back to our camp. Our friend Jean-Pierre comes over regularly to lend us his dogs for the chicken hunt. When there is no time to hunt, he brings over pork, which is not even cheap in the stores. Today, our last day at the camp, he woke us up at 6 AM to bring us a breakfast of chicken and bread. A taxi driver picks me up in the pouring rain to drive me to the hardware store. Not only does he not ask for a fare, he even waits there to give me a ride back to the dock. A random dude gives us coconuts. A random dude wants to pay for me in the store because my wallet is in my huge backpack, which is a pain to get off and on my back. Always and everywhere there is a random person who will want to do something nice for us.
The above stated are facts and not judgmental. When I use the word ‘nice’, I use it for the sole reason that Merriam Webster encourages one to use it in order to describe this type of behavior.
I know that I should not over-generalize. I will not go ahead and dumbly state that peace on earth would be easy to achieve if everyone were like the Nuku Hivans. I suppose it might be easier to give when there is an abundance of everything and when food basically grows right into your open mouth. There are more coconuts, mangos, papayas, bananas, guavas, limes, and grapefruits than anyone can eat. It is sad to see them rot on the ground at times, but I guess when every tummy is filled no one bothers picking them up anymore. Cannabis grows everywhere as well, which makes sharing easy and an illegal black market impossible.
When Nuku Hivans are hungry, they fish, or they hunt wild pigs, sheep, goats or cattle with nothing but a knife or a machete. There is not even an actual need to bring snacks to the beach. There are crabs, cowry snails and sea urchins all over. Grab a few crabs and snails from the rocks, break them apart, rinse them in the ocean and squeeze a lime from a nearby tree over them. You’ll have the most delicious and fresh seafood you can imagine. Sea urchins don’t even require lime. You can just eat them as you go.
Now, one could say that it’s easy to share when there is an abundance of everything. But why do the Nuku Hivans give us their expensive beer? Why do they make a 45 minute detour to give us a ride? Why do they let us sleep in their houses? We do know that historically they weren’t always peaceful. Despite there being enough food for everyone, the different tribes of the island led brutal wars against each other that usually ended in the eating of the defeated warriors. Also, I do not know whether they only give to strangers to keep a nice appearance to the outside world, or whether they are like that amongst each other as well.
Maybe they don’t give without taking after all. Maybe what they take without us realizing are the stories that we have to tell about our homelands—like paying with a mango for a little piece of the outside world, if you will. Te’iki said people here think about money a lot these days. Also, Ta’oa, a local that we met in Anaho, told us how he got screwed over by a business partner. Even though we do feel safe to leave our tent alone all day, we know that theft does sometimes happen.
In addition, this might not apply to all Marquesans. We have heard that the people from Ua Pou, for example, are anything but nice. They hate and fight the Nuku Hivans whenever they can. According to Nuku Hivans they steal and are bad people in general. I would, however, bet that Ua Pouians say the same thing about their northern neighbors. My friend Adon was in a serious fist fight with a drunken dude from Ua Pou, knocking out three of his teeth. While relating his heroics to us he does not forget to remind us repeatedly that Nuku Hivans are anything but that, that the drunken Ua Pouian started the fight, and that here no crimes ever happen. I guess I will have to take his word for it, and it matches my experiences here.
We also cannot know whether Nuku Hivans are as happy as we have been here. For us this is super cool and super interesting, and the food is super great. For them this is just super normal and they probably have to deal with issues like disappointment, unanswered love, moods, jealousy and envy as well. I should not blindly call this paradise, but on a first glance it looks like it’s damn close.
These are my observations about the Nuku Hivans. I cannot say much more without judging and of course I do not want to attempt to find a general code of ethics yet, after experiencing only one of the countless cultures of this planet. As a feeble attempt of a conclusion, I want to say that interest in foreigners, their cultures, and their ways of life is a much better way than fear of them. Fear is a fertile ground for hatred. A scared person is easily influenced. We can see that in Europe right now, where nationalism is taking over in way too many countries. Now, I am sure judging nationalism is wrong here. I dare do that because history has already taught us where that will lead. I do not need any further observations to figure that out.
I did not find eternal truth quite yet and I doubt that I ever will. For now, I hope that my experiences inspire you.
As a little bit of an appendix, I want to add a few more encounters that I have had, mostly with people from different cultures. Again, I hope I don’t sound like I judge when I relate them. Please note that these are all single encounters that do not necessarily need to be representative for the respective nations.
Two American men in their sixties, Brent and Mike, came on a boat. They had never read anything about Nuku Hiva anywhere and displayed a great lack of interest in the place and its people. They stayed for four days and left the boat only for necessities, never, though, to explore the island or meet its people. They did, however, see enough to wonder how ‘these people’, as they condescendingly said, could afford their in some cases new and nice pick-up trucks, and how they reproduced when half of the men were transvestites. Well, I’m glad they had time to make some observations of their own that they could relate to me ever so non-judgmentally.
A French dude, who goes by the name of Yannik, became our neighbor, setting up camp close to ours. He had come on a boat whose captain he complained about a lot. That cruel captain had dared ask him to help with the sailing of the vessel—even at night. Yannik does not believe in helping. After setting up camp, he didn’t lose any time before raiding the neighboring backyards for fruit. The first night, he figured out that the hospital was open but deserted at night, allowing him to shower there and take as much food as he needed. He might not have needed a lot seeing that he usually ate our food while repeatedly trying to steal our silverware, which consists of exactly two forks and two spoons.
Again, I do not want to judge quite yet, but I feel that a little more altruism might be a more valid way to a peaceful world. Yannik managed to get even me agitated—and that’s not easy.
Then there were three old Japanese guys that we had an interesting encounter with. They go by the names of Sam, Sho, and Jon. Sam, Sho and Jon also came on a boat. Like any other yachtie, we asked them if they would maybe have room on board to take us to Tahiti. They answered that they did not have any room on their small boat, but that they would, however, be happy to host us for dinner. They picked us up in their dinghy and fed us freshly grilled skewers with beef and vegetables, grilled sausages, bread and salami. We spent the most wonderful evening on board their boat engaging in interesting conversation while drinking beer and wine. Not only the difference in culture, but also the difference in age made this invitation both unexpected and enjoyable.
Apparently, the word spread that we were now accepting dinner invitations, for a few days later an elderly Canadian couple, Val and Jerry, invited us to their beautiful boat that they have been sailing around the world on for 20 years. It was again a most delightful experience with unbelievable food and unbelievably nice people.
Let me repeat that these encounters are probably little representative for the respective nations. Wynne is an American just like Brent and Mike and yet nothing like them.
The last encounter I want to relate was one with a Nuku Hivan again. One night, when Wynne and I were engaged in pre-somnial intercourse, we heard a noise by the entrance to our tent. Startled, I went to check—only to find a friend of ours, who we had just eaten dinner with, masturbating while peeking through the meshed wall of the tent. When I inquired what he was doing, he urged me to go on with our ever so suddenly interrupted activity, for he wanted to watch and finish his own business. Not entirely opposed to voyeurism, but taken by surprise in this case, I told him that I was not planning on doing so with him lying there. It took me a good ten minutes to convince him to get out from inside our rain fly. The fact that the next day he addressed us without the slightest bit of shame, as if nothing had happened, gives me the feeling that what he did is not uncommon here and possibly a widely accepted part of the culture. That, however, is but a wild theory. He might just as well be a pervert. He is, as it turns out, a convict, who escaped from prison in Tahiti, and is chilling in Nuku Hiva because authorities here will let him be as long as he behaves. His prison sentence he got for stealing, though, and not for voyeurism. Thinking about that situation retrospectively, I do not really see anything bad or wrong about his behavior. Open-mindedness in any part of life is a good key to a better understanding between cultures. Wynne and I still hang out with him and value his friendship.
My next blog entry will probably talk about Australians a lot for we will soon leave Nuku Hiva with a very nice Aussie named Butch.
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