It's a Family Affair

Hello!  First off, thanks for reading our blog.  We are missionaries with the Assemblies of God in the beautiful island nation of Vanuatu.  Below is a version of a story/ paper I wrote as part of an assignment from our head missionary.  I thought I would also post it here to provide more insight to our time on the island of Atchin. The paper is intended to give prospective missionaries a glimpse into familial relations in Vanuatu. If you have been following our blog, there is one section about mother-in-law relationships which will be redundant.  Enjoy!

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As an American, I have a certain mindset of what constitutes a family. Until recently, I figured this was not just an American or even a Western concept but the standard the world over. Just as gravity is a constant or other laws of physics are unchanging, I understood familial relationships to be the same. During our family’s stay on the remote and super-tinsy island of Atchin, off the coast of Malekula, in the country of Vanuatu, I learned a lot about family, the role of villagers in family, and just how skewed my view had been.

It was about a week into our 9 day stay on the island of Atchin when Merissa and I retrieved our notebooks and pens from the small pastor’s office which had become our makeshift home and sleeping quarters. We snuck past the kids, checked on baby Daniel to make sure the fever he had been experiencing for the last 5 days wasn’t too high and rejoined our hosts on the front porch area of Jordan Temple Assembly of God. The generator hummed in an adjacent building, powering the florescent lights above us. Wooden benches backed up to a decorative 3’ high concrete brick wall. A few chairs had been set up opposite the bench with a table in between to set various foods and hot “tea” on. The women sat on a bench a short distance away and perpendicular to where the men were engaged in conversation. 

A quick aside: I put the word “tea” in quotes because this is how the islanders refer to any hot beverage. This was quite confusing for the first few days until I actually had the gumption to ask why they kept calling coffee, “tea”.

“So, ahem, sorry, aren't you drinking coffee?” I asked, confused yet again.

Blank stares. I'm getting quite used to blank stares and raised eyebrows. Not only are the Ni-Vanuatu dealing them out as I struggle to communicate but I do my fair share of throwing down a glazed-over look or two.

“Yeees, this is coffee. Don't you call it coffee?” one of the men replied. 

"Yes, but when you called me over you told me the tea was ready."

"OK."

"OK...but we're all having coffee."

"OK."  

Now here was one of those fun times where no one really knew what to say next.  I wasn't sure what to ask and they weren't really sure I had a question.

"Well, where's the 'tea'?" I said.

"In here..." one of the men said while placing a hand upon the thermos containing hot water.

"Hot water is 'tea'?"

Sighs of relief from the Ni-Van.

"Yes, missionary.  Now you understand."

I went for the whole ball o' wax, "So all hot beverages: tea, cocoa, coffee, hot water...they're all 'tea'?" 

Smiles and nods of affirmation indicated I had super-sluthed my way to enlightenment.  

We had previously warned our hosts that we had a few questions regarding family and life as a tribe. Merissa took a place among the ladies and I settled down into a chair opposite a couple of Ni-Van men who were fast becoming friends.

Merissa had already told me she had asked a few of the women about clan/ tribe membership and had not gotten many specific answers. We are finding that certain topics take persistence and patience in navigating. I thought tonight I would start with something “easy” and ask about one of the men's family tree. Deciphering the conversation that followed proved to be one of the most difficult things to wrap my head around. Reviewing my notes as I write this, I still don’t think I have all the kinks worked out. Hopefully some of the information I provide will not only be (mostly) correct but informative and helpful. Strap yourself in, put on your thinking cap and try to keep an open mind…here it goes.

The person I mainly asked questions to and who’s family tree I was trying to follow was, Bill. I had already learned that to simply ask, “Who is your mother?” could yield various results so I asked who his “straight” mom was. This is necessary to find out who actually gave birth to Bill since plenty of women in Bill’s life are called “mother”.

“Bill, what is your straight mother’s name”

“Joy”

“What is your straight father’s name?”

“Jehu.”

OK, it seemed like this was going alright. I continued for a couple of minutes trying to get names on his side of the family. Then I switched gears and began to ask about his wife’s family. When I asked about his mother-in-law, he became silent and suddenly looked very nervous. It was obvious I had asked something I should not have. The Ni-Van pastor’s wife, Anita, interjected from her seat across the way and told Bill it was OK to tell me his mother-in-laws name. Bill would not do it. Asking if he could write it instead of speak it, I passed my notebook and pen over to him with a disclaimer that if he were uncomfortable with this as well that we could move on to another subject. He agreed to write the name and we began to then discuss why speaking her name was not OK. Bill told me that it is strictly “tabu” in his culture to speak his mother-in-law's name—whether she is present or not. He then went on to explain that were she to find out he used her name he would have to pay her a fee in order to make recompense. Furthermore, Bill is not even permitted on the property where she is unless he is invited in by her husband. After being invited in, he must not address her directly. Any conversation he has with her must be through a third party. These things are all considered a sign of respect. In contrast, I was discussing family with a man from the island of Paama and he stated that initial contact between himself and his mother-in-law was to be through a third party but, after the conversation had been started, he could then talk to her directly for the remainder of the chat.

When Bill wants to talk about his mother-in-law he refers to her as his “paleka”.

As our discussion turned to more of his family and his relationships my “simple” family tree began to branch in all sorts of different ways. Bill would start to tell me how each relative was to be addressed and the wrinkles of confusion across my brow deepened. There were now 3 or 4 men speaking at once trying to explain in varying ways the importance and structure of family on Atchin. One drew a diagram, one gesticulated wildly with his hands, one focused intently and spoke ultra-slow in an attempt to see understanding come to my overloaded brain.

I have drawn my own little diagram based on the night spent discussing family. It can be found below and will, hopefully, provide a bit of insight into a small piece Vanuatu family structure. This is not a comprehensive family “tree” at all. It is just a tiny window into one man's immediate family, how he addresses them, and how they address him during the course of his life. This diagram and it's social dynamic are specific to Atchin though some similarities may be found in other islands. Please forgive any/ all errors. Text in red indicates a “straight” biological relationship—what a person with a Western mindset would consider “true” names for the relative. Blue text denotes the name by which that person is addressed but does not reflect a “true” biological relationship. Did I muddy the waters enough, yet?  

During our discussion I asked if the moniker of “papa” came with the privileges and responsibilities of a biological papa. In one instance, Bill calls a 3 year named, Franco, “Papa” due to the relational structure of Atchin. I wanted to know if that meant Bill had to take direction from the 3 year old at some point—if Franco would ever have decision making power over Bill's life. The answer from Bill was, “no”. He stated that the name was a sign of respect not an indicator of power or position.

Another piece unique to Atchin are restrictions on marriage due to the island being so small with a total population around 1000. There seemed to be some confusion as to the number of generations that must pass but, somewhere between 3 and six generations must separate any couple wishing to be married. If this requirement is not met, men must go to other islands to find a wife, thereby making a more diverse gene pool.

The idea of adoption is big here in Vanuatu. Ni-Van adopt a lot of people and the criteria seems pretty loose. Jim, another resident of Atchin, explained that any person can be adopted by another. His example was of two school mates who meet up again later in life after having kids. These school mates hit it off again and after discussing the “good ol' days” adopt the others' kids. The privileges of adoption are pretty much the same as being a true member of the family. The adopted kids are addressed as “son” or “daughter” and the adopted parents as “mom” and “dad”. I asked about financial obligations which seemed to arrest the discussion momentarily. So much of life and property is already shared among people in Vanuatu that my question must have seemed a bit cold and very foreign. Feeling the need to expound, I explained that in the U.S. we have plenty of really close friends. While these friends are a vital part of our lives they are still their own unit and thereby responsible for their own bills, their own housing, and feeding of their own family. I gave a scenario asking who would be financially responsible for medical if one of the adopted members were to become sick. Without hesitation Jim and the other sitting around said the expenses would be shared because, after all, “this is family”. They then further illustrated the point and said that if an adopted child were walking by he/she would be invited in, fed, provided for, and would have a place to sleep depending on the hour of day/night. Going back to the “sick kid” scenario, they did mention that the lion's share of care of the child would be upon the birth parents. So, it seems even though much is shared in this community, there is still a special bond within biological families.

Within the tribe/clan/village there is a chief who has power to make decisions for the entire group. He is part of a council of chiefs who meet at least once a week. There are two head chiefs over this council with one having clear authority over the other—similar to a president/ vice-president. Any conflicts that arise should be taken to the village chief first. If he can not resolve the issue then it is brought before the council of chiefs. If this council can not come to a conclusion then the head chief will issue his ruling. My understanding is that the second in command is in charge of what is considered the “small door”. He regulates who can come into the council of chiefs and is a sort of gatekeeper for meetings. He has the power over who can plead a case before the council and who can not. I asked if this structure was good for the villagers and the consensus seemed to be, no. Those with whom I was talking seemed to think the Vanuatu government has given too much power to chiefs. For example, let's say a person has a deed to a particular property that is actually stamped and signed off by the Government. The council of chiefs decided there is someone in their family who wants this ground. The council will abuse its power and standing in order to give the property to whomever it wants effectively nullifying the government approved deed.

All in all, our time in Atchin was an excellent experience in learning Bislama and becoming more familiar with the culture of Vanuatu. It is my hope that this document, along with the crazy diagram, will serve as a starting point for any who wish to come and serve in this beautiful country.