
This article is part of Willderness Way VOLUME 4, ISSUE
4. You may view more articles here or order
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1. Espiritu Santo’s
unyielding wilderness is spellbinding but its true beauty shines from its
people.

2. Villagers believe
a legen- dary gigantic fish inhabits the river and is
responsible for a couple of villagers deaths. This eel (about
medium size) which was taken by a spear is enough to make you
want to walk on water.

3. A fish dangles
from Peta’s mouth as he and Kara draw a bead on passing
fish.

4. Peta with a pig
which fell to one of his arrows as he taught me his people’s
primitive hunting techniques. His bow and arrows are fashioned
from traditional materials.

5. The author fully
anointed by a village woman minutes before he underwent his initiation
ritual.
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Peta moved smoothly and silently, with the poise
and grace of a heron. His actions were as fluid as the silky water which
parted as the gently flowing current lapped
at his waist. A fish rose and broke the river’s surface sending a wave of
circles towards us as it fed on the smorgasbord of insects falling from
the overhanging canopy of the jungle. As the first shards of light pierced
the predawn darkness the sky momentarily painted the underbellies of
cloud, with an orange hue. It created the perfect backdrop, I felt
priviledged being immersed in such a beautiful setting. A wild fowl crowed
from the matted weave of the jungle as it heralded the start of a new day.
Peta crouched lower to the water as we slowly felt our way along the rocky
bottom with our bare feet and stopped midstream. For several minutes we
froze and stood like statues with our bows at the ready while we patiently
waited. Peta motioned with his eyes to the fish that lazily swam towards
us. His muscles flexed and twitched beneath his ebony skin as he drew a
bead and his bow reached full draw. The arrow sliced through the water and
violently twitched from side to side as it hit the shimmering silver belly
of the white mullet. The fish ceased struggling when Peta’s teeth clamped
down on the back of its neck then tore open its belly. The intestines
floated away as he washed the blood off of the rest of the offal. He then
mumbled thanks to his god and the fish for providing us with its
flesh. “Tavua you kai kai (eat)” he said as he offered me the heart and
roe. After the fire roasted rat I’d eaten for dinner the night before, raw
fish gut was going to make a welcome change to my diet. I swallowed them
whole and scooped up a handful of water to wash away their bloody
after-taste. At four
thousand and ten square kilometers in size Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu’s
largest island is an untouched jewel of the pacific. It’s highlands are
home to a tribe who call themselves the people of the sky. Due to their
geographical isolation the ways of the outside world are alien and of no
consequence to these primitive peoples. I’d previously trekked across the
island‘s rugged mountainous spine and made contact with them. Being
totally at ease with their primeval ways led to a strange turn of events.
Due to the belief that their spirit turns white when they die the chief
declared I was the reincarnation of his dead grandfather’s spirit as I
shared the same mannerisms as his dead relative. He christened me Tavua
(TA means man, VUA from the jungle) and asked me to return in a years time
for a full initiation into the tribe. These selfless people shared such an
affinity with each other and the environment that I relished the
opportunity to get a true insight into humanities, heritage and their
untainted way of life.
A few weeks
before I underwent my initiation ritual several millennia of inherited
learning were gifted to me as I was taught how to reap the bounty from the
goldmine of natural resources the jungle offers. A pig, wild fowl,
pigeons, flying foxes and a rat fell prey to our arrows as I learned how
to turn what we consider an alien environment into home. After having
nailed plenty of game in the jungle it was time to get my feet wet and
indulge in some ancient angling techniques. These people are expert
conservationists. They have to be to ensure their continued existence.
Fishing with a net is forbidden, this tribal law enforces the rivers are
kept well stocked with fish. Most villages prefer bow over the spear and
line which they are allowed to use. Bows are carved from a carefully
chosen limb of the nichibo tree. The villagers make the bow sting by
rolling the dried inner bark of the banyon tree up and down their thighs.
This is kept supple by rubbing it across sap which bleeds from the moure
tree. Arrows are made from dried wild cane and traditionally tipped with
black palm though a few villagers are now using wire. A newly fashioned
bow is deemed useless unless it secures a kill with its first shot. Only
when a kill is guaranteed will a hunter send an arrow into flight. The
blood of the animal is rubbed into a small notch cut in the bow in the
belief the slain animals spirit will enter the weapon and give it rapee
(power).
With no glare on the
water from the tropical sun, early morning is the best time to see and
shoot fish. Standing in deep water and stalking the banks and shallows are
the preferred ways of hunting. I left Peta to it (once I got past the
taste, bloodied fish heart and roe was ok but once was enough) and joined
Kara as he hunted the shallows. Our movements were painstakingly slow as
we crept up on fish as they fed in the weed close to the shore. As soon as
the mullet saw us they would dart into the safety of the cover of the
bank. It took us ten minutes to cover ten meters as we honed in on an
unsuspecting mullet as Kara added another fish to our tally. Both black
and white mullet, eel and smaller fish called the naroti inhabit the
waters. When we sighted a deep pool about one hundred meters away Peta
motioned for me to get out of the water. The villagers are fearful of a
legendary gigantic fish which has supposedly attacked and killed a few
fishermen over the years. From Peta’s description the man eater sounded
like a shark which may have travelled upriver from the ocean. With twelve
fish between us after a couple of hours shooting it was time to leave the
water anyway.
We soon had a fire
blazing and stuffed green bamboo with fillets and plugged off the open end
of the bamboo with a wad of leaves. I wrapped a couple of fish in damp
navenua leaves while Peta went and gathered some breadfruit. Everything
was roasted in the red hot coals once the fire had burned down. My taste
buds went into a frenzy when the succulent fish slid down my throat. It
tasted great but to me this was more than breakfast. I’d added another
string to my bow by gaining credibility as a worthy initiate by showing
that I could help provide for the village. When I underwent my initiation
it was an incredible experience to cross the gigantic cultural divide from
my complex modern world to the people of the sky’s primitive realm. By
learning their hunting techniques with the most basic of implements and
weapons I learned how to live and enjoy a free lifestyle amongst beautiful
people who get to call Espiritu Santo’s unyielding wilderness home.  |