1991 was the end of Eritrea’s 30-year civil war with Ethiopia but it seems that 1997 marked the beginning of Eritrea’s printing and/or coinage of their own money. Over time, the government began to discourage private enterprise and travel, resulting in depreciation of their money, and the extinction of Eritrean coins. Today, 26 years later, the most commonly exchanged denomination are the 5 and 10 Nakfa bills. Sadly, the streets of Eritrea house large amounts of beggars. One of which was a skinny old man with a kind face, distinct jaw line, and a gruff white beard. He hobbled down the pedestrian sidewalk of Liberation Avenue in downtown Asmara, past a line of homeless, grasping tight his well-used yet sturdy cane and then he stopped. He had spotted a young Caucasian teenager and his mother, us, sitting in front of the towering Ave Maria Cathedral.
Suddenly the man came alive, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, Eritrean and those from other countries in North Africa. “Hello, hello,” he said with his aged voice, trying to catch my attention. Interested and frankly board of sitting down in front of the cathedral waiting for Dad, I moved over to see what he had placed out for display. Unmasked from his chapped palms were a 1 and 5 Eritrean coins from 1997.
On one side, they displayed images of native animals that had once thrived amongst the lands. The other side depicted soldiers raising up the new national flag to mark their independence in 1991. I asked to borrow his treasures for a minute so I could interest my mom sitting a few steps above with what I had discovered. At the time I hadn’t a clue that they were of no value. In exchange for a couple of 1’s and 5’s I gave him a 10 Nakfa bill, which would most certainly be spent on his dinner that night. It was obvious from his big smile that he was delighted. Before continuing his walk, in broken English he informed me that the dates of the coins were manufactured in 1991 and tried to explain their original values. Then he proceeded down the sidewalk and blended in amongst the busy paths of other pedestrians.
For more information, I found a great short website about the printing of Eritrean money: http://africa.worldofcoins.eu/af-eri.htm
This article is also posted on the World Cruiser’s Noonsite website under Soaking in Sudan.
April 8, 2018
Before leaving Massawa, Eritrea, I emailed Mohammed Abubaker, Port Suakin’s wonderful yacht service agent, via inReach SE satellite text of our pending arrival. He had arranged a tourist visa, hotel, and transportation for my brother Nick Rigney who flew into Port Sudan from U.S. to join us. No commercial carrier offered flights to Khartoum, where visas are more expensive/complicated and U.S. State Dept considers the city a Level 3 security risk.
Hailed Suakin Port Control on VHF Ch16 and 14 an hour before arrival. Not until 06h30 when we were almost at the entrance did we get a response, which after answering the standard questions (port of registry, size of yacht, number of crew and nationality, etc.), came immediate port entry permission and a kind welcome. Once well within the channel, we hugged the ruined city of Suakin Island to avoid the shoals of the channel’s opposite (western) side. Nearing the end of the season, we were the only sailing yacht except for an unmanned yacht anchored and covered in Red Sea dust. We anchored just south of the island, before the fishing skiffs, in about 20’: good holding on mud bottom. We were so guarded from swell that below deck, I thought we were in a well-protected marina.
Per my most recent email arrival estimate, the friendly Mr. Mohammed Abubaker ( mo****************@gm***.com
) was there to greet us, fresh local bread in hand. His English is excellent. He’s tall, handsome, cheerful, and has a deep bass voice, features worthy of a character-actor movie career. His white fiberglass panga/skiff served as our dinghy dock, from which he boarded our dinghy to our yacht, and efficiently collected our documents:
1 passport picture per person for the shore pass
1 passport photocopy per person
1 crew list
Charge for clearing the four of us in, including his commission, $220 USD.
He returned with our shore passes within a couple hours. Additionally we requested 600 liters of diesel (US$0.70 per liter delivered to shore in our gerry jugs), 2 10GB data SIM cards (US$15 ea), and to exchange US$140 (25 Sudanese pounds to the USD, an excellent exchange rate with the understanding that he’d buy back what we didn’t use). Our diesel jugs returned full within 3-4 hrs. Mohammad lent us his portable WiFi hotspot device gratis, so we could spread decent Internet joy among the crew installing one of the 2 SIM cards into the hotspot. (We hadn’t had Internet since leaving India, as Eritrea doesn’t really have anything useable).
Visiting the Ruins of Suakin costs 10 Sudanese pounds per person (US$0.40) for an all day pass. Each time we walked around, we bumped into a friendly local authority ready to describe the ruins in his best English; very kind. After visiting the local museum a few days later, a short taxi or motorized rickshaw drive away, we had greater appreciation for what we were seeing, how old the site was and how quickly it fell apart.
That evening, Mohammed drove us in his worn four-door Mercedes to an excellent local herb-grilled chicken restaurant. Reading how traditional Muslim Sudan is, whenever ashore, Leslie opted to wear her full body Muslim dress and head scarf so as not to draw too much added glares against herself and the family in general. We saw many more men than women out at night (women made up only about 5% of those out after dark). Our tab for the delicious dinner of 4 chicken halves, 3 bean plates, fresh bread, 5 small water bottles and 2 Cokes was $14 total. No flatware or napkins, yet all food establishments have set up a water can with working spiget and a bar of soap to wash before and after. Air dry always.
Mr. Mohammed answered all our questions and solved all our visiting requests. He was our dream official and guide. He drove us to the open market for fruits and vegetable provisioning, as well as shops that sold UHT boxed milk, pasta, and canned goods. He then drove our provisions and us back to the “dinghy dock.”
He found a replacement 30l gerry jug for one of ours which its lid no longer held tight. And he arranged a taxi fellow in Port Sudan to act as a city tour guide (Mr. Gafar’s English not so good, so he called Mohammed to clarify whenever necessary. It worked fine). We took a 1hr public bus from Suakin to Port Sudan (US$1/pp). Mr Gafar met up with us and drove us around the port, took us to a fish market, to a wonderfully rustic restaurant for grilled lamb, and an open market for more fruits and vegetables, (we didn’t know how to ask to see the handicrafts bazaar), and drove us back to Suakin Island. There, he took us to the museum and to an awesome local bazaar to buy smaller aluminum jebbanas for serving Sudanese coffee. Total cost for driving us all around: $20.
Leslie and the boys decided to relax on the boat, while my brother, Nick and I went ashore to find some local dinner adventure. We stumbled across a small popular shack serving among other items a traditional bean dish, sprinkled with cheese, topped with fresh chopped tomatoes, onions, and greens, as well as a medium spicy oil sauce. They called it the “special.” Served with the local leavened pita-like bread, we dug into it with relish tearing pieces of bread to dip like tortilla chips at home and drinking small glasses of hot, sweet mint tea. Total cost for two, including 2 teas each: US$2. Note: I’ve been traveling awhile in ancient-culture nations, so I’m perfectly ok to eat with my hands, no flatware, communal plates, bread tossed on a rickety table, flies everywhere, goats, donkeys, etc. Tourists love it, tolerate it, or hate it. I happen to love it . . . a lot. The locals watch us with curiosity and esteem when we partake in their ways.
Early the next morning, Nick and I went to a flimsy blue coffee shack Mohammed recommended, and enjoyed strong ginger-flavored Turkish-style coffee served from a small aluminum jebbana, complete with a filter of dried grass stuffed in the jebbana’s spout. The ceramic shot glasses were half filled with granulated sugar. We spoke in informal international hand language. Flies, goats, donkeys, cats, hawks, local stares, dirt floors, rickety old timber construction, table about to fall down? . . . Loved it!!!
Clearing out with Mohammed was equally as simple. The cost was low, don’t remember because the 30l jug filled with diesel was included in the over all price. Another boat arrived, a French charter captain who’s sailed this part of the world for 14 years. Mohammed highly recommended we speak with Captain Jack. Jack gave us advice that we are exercising:
On the way to Egypt, stop at Sanganeb Reef & lighthouse to snorkel, buy a T-Shirt (US$15 ea. supports the workers), and tour the lighthouse. Per the Red Sea Pilot Guide, we just tied up to the lighthouse pier’s bollard for a couple hours as the current and wind gently kept the boat off the pier. We did all that Captain Jack suggested, enjoyed the pristine beauty and then easily untied and took off. Wonderful experience, super friendly people.
Check into Port Ghalib, cheaper, faster, and friendlier. Make arrangements with one of the two Egyptian Suez Canal agents before proceeding. Visit Luxor.
Skip Hurghada where a new bureaucrat charges boats a lot to check in again and all other costs are high.
Check/clear out of Port Suez after visiting the pyramids.
Stop in Ismailia, required anyway, and visit the wonderful yacht club but don’t leave it to go further ashore as we would have already cleared out of Egypt from Port Suez. Stay until the weather is good, but hopefully spend a couple days at the club: laundry, showers, etc. Hire a pilot.
Drop the pilot off in Port Said, but for the sake of your boat, sanity, and wallet (damage due to ship’s wake, clearing out is harder, more expensive, etc.), keep on going, preferably to Cyprus. From there, cheap flights can take you to the rest of the eastern Med for a lot less money and hassle than arriving by boat.
Suakin, Sudan ruins
Well that’s our experience and learning. We were one of 28 boats this season to stop in Suakin. We heard only 18 stopped in Eritrea. With Mohammed’s help, nothing could be simpler, easier, and more enjoyable than stopping in Suakin, Sudan. He really made it a great experience. If you have more time, I hear you might wish to see Sudan’s pyramids, precursor to the larger, newer Egyptian “copies.” If you want to scuba dive, you need to make arrangements ahead of time through the dive companies in Port Sudan. Most scuba operating boats are liveaboards and in high season, depart for a week at a time. We didn’t dive because all the boats were booked and there were no day trips available. We don’t carry our own dive equipment on Kandu. Just no space.
At 6:30 a.m. my mom, Trent and I left Kandu and motored the dinghy to shore so that Trent and I could catch the bus to school. We entered the school gates at 7:00 a.m. I was ready and on time. The team paddlers showed up one by one until it was time to load into the airport bus and head to the airport, an hour and a half away. The team coaches rounded up all the paddles and life jackets and loaded them into the bus separately as the paddlers seated themselves. On the way to the airport lumberjacks, cutting down trees, stopped the bus. The roadway was cleared in ten minutes and we moved on. After almost two hours of being in the bus we arrived; I was ready. All the kids checked in, got their tickets, and bought food for the plane ride. We would fly from Nuku-Hiva to lay over in Hiva-Oa before setting off to Tahiti. An hour passed before we were allowed into the plane to pick our seats. I hadn’t been on a plane for a long time. I was so excited and overjoyed. During take off, it was super cool looking out the window seeing the ocean and Nuku-Hiva from above.
Not long after, we deplaned in Hiva-Oa and waited to re-board. All the kids sat down at the airport snack lounge and talked until an announcement said that the plane was ready and we would re-board soon. The passengers again seated themselves and as soon as everyone was settled in the plane, it took off. I sat next to a very nice French lady and practiced my French with her. Eventually I tired, put on my headset and took a nice long nap. I woke up for the landing; flying over the coral reef lagoon was spectacular. I was super pumped to visit a ‘big’ city like Papeete.
When the plane came to a stop, everyone grabbed their carry-on belongings and walked to the airport baggage claim. As the luggage came down the conveyor, we each grabbed our bags and walked outside to the lobby. My dad greeted us and showed us the way to the bus that would drive us to our dorm for the next four nights.
Our team was separated into two rooms of boys and girls. Coach Cathy gave the assistant coach the key to the boys’ room so we could unpack and get ready for dinner. We left on foot at 6:00 p.m. to the high school where we would eat dinner. My Marquesan teammates were a bit intimidated by the local Tahitian students. To make it easier for the Marquesan kids, the school provided a private dinning room that first night. Coach Cathy told everyone we would be waking up at 5:30 in the morning to eat breakfast. We walked the 30 minutes back to the shared dorm rooms, traded off taking showers in the single shower, and went to bed. It was a great first day!
Visiting Tahiti . . .
Wednesday morning we got dressed and headed for breakfast at the same school where we had had dinner the night before. Once finished we boarded a waiting school bus that drove us to a high school for a planned tour. It was a cooking school, so lunch was fantastic. The whole tour took about four hours, and I hardly understood any of it. After the tour we took another bus over to the commercial center of the city where we were given a 1-1/2 hour chance to shop. We were split into groups of girls and guys. My dad soon met up with us and took my group to several different stores. That day, I bought a blue leather Quiksilver wallet and an ice cream. The others bought expensive carbon fiber paddles ($240USD), T-shirts, and shorts. Our time was up and the bus drove us back to the dormitory. Everyone unloaded and we soon took off to eat dinner.
The next morning was much the same. We woke up at 5:30 a.m., headed for breakfast, and waited for the bus that would take us to another school. Instead of going to the school with the others, I went with my dad shopping. I bought swim trunks, sandals, deodorant, and gum. Then we took off to a Tahitian television station where my dad was going to be interviewed on live TV Premier 1. On the TV show, he talked about our stay in the Marquesas, his old job at Sony Pictures and mom’s old job at LA Opera.
It was darned cool to watch him being interviewed on TV. He did a great job. We left the studio and went shopping again. Before hitting the stores, we grabbed a bite to eat at McDonald’s for the heck of it, and then we went back to shopping. In the city, I bought two tank tops and another for my brother, one pair of pants for me and another for my brother. I also got a fanny pack and my dad bought a dive watch for Trent. We had a great time looking around Papeete’s shops and open market. It felt as if I were back in America (except everything was a lot more expensive and all in French). It was nice to experience the luxury of having a wide selection of things to buy.
Being Thursday meant that tomorrow we would be leaving for Moorea, waking up at 4:00 in the morning to do so. We ate dinner at the high school again, came back to the dormitories, and went to bed.
The most respected sport in all of French Polynesia . . . ? The answer is va’a, Tahitian for outrigger canoeing. This is a sport for real athletes. Va’a involves endurance, strength, killer technique, innate talent, and most importantly, teamwork. It is also one of the few ways to earn Marquesan respect. Other ways include becoming a prolific fisherman, enrolling in their local school, or having your body tattooed from head to toe. My name is BRYCE RIGNEY and I can check two of these off my list. I have been attending a public Marquesan secondary school and I’m a part of the school’s paddling team, seated as my team’s faharo. In two months Marquesas will send 14 of their best college (secondary school) students to represent them in Moorea in the prestigious Eimeo Race where we’ll battle it out against 42 other French Polynesian schools and one team from Hawaii.
In the beginning . . .
It all started in mid-October 2015 with the beginning of the school’s new paddling program for kids 14 and older. The first after-school paddling sessions were difficult and crazy. Forty kids showed up on the first day, each wanting to learn how to paddle. But there were only 15 paddles. Fortunately, the instructors brought their own paddles to share. For boats, we paddled double-hulled outrigger canoes, one V-12 and a V-6. The word “V-12” is short for “va’a 12,” which is a pirogue (French for outrigger canoe) built for 12 paddlers. FYI – A mix of French, Tahitian, and Marquesan are spoken in the Marquesas. Anyway, so instead of one long canoe for 12 people, with two long wooden arms called aito, they attach two V-6’s together to make one double-hulled canoe. A double-hulled canoe is much more stable than a single-hulled canoe with a small outrigger, an important feature when just starting to learn how to paddle an outrigger canoe. So, a V-3 holds three people, and a V-1 is for a single paddler. To create a double-hulled V6, they tied two V-3’s together. Together, the two double-hulled canoes carried 18 students at a time. It was obvious to the instructors that none of us were in shape for paddling and that va’a was a new sport for all of us. Being it was the first time for most, including me; we tired easily those first weeks.
After 3 weeks, the number of kids showing up for practice dwindled to 20. That’s when the real training began. We started with 3km tours without rest, which progressed to 4km tours, then doubled to two 4km tours with a stop between tours, and then a 6km tour without a break. After two months of paddling, 18 kids remained. That’s when the college sports instructor, Cathy, informed all paddlers that there would be a 42km, 9-stage race around the island of Moorea, to be held in two months, and that from the 18 remaining kids, only 14 would be chosen to represent the entire Marquesas archipelago. All the kids were shocked when she told us. Training stepped up yet again. No longer just Mondays and Wednesdays, we were told to come on Tuesdays and Saturdays as well. At that time, I started to doubt whether I liked the sport enough to endure the training. Each day was 4km tour day (YAY!! . . . NOT!!) with a 1km “cherry” sprint on top. At the end of each practice we were exhausted, having worked practically every muscle in our bodies. Another month passed and the 4km tours were getting easier. That was when coach Cathy and the trainers said that in a week they would decide who would represent the Marquesas in this year’s Eimeo race.
Being that we were getting close to the day of the race, I decided to buy myself a custom wooden outrigger canoe paddle, made by hand by of one of the other paddler’s dad. There were many reasons why I wanted my own paddle. Everyday at paddle practice, we would get whatever paddle the trainers handed us. I had to get acquainted with each paddle, adapting to a different weight, texture, and length. Second, when my mom wasn’t using her custom paddle, I’d try to borrow it. But sometimes she’d be paddling at the same time, so I couldn’t use it. I no longer wanted the stress of wondering if I could or couldn’t use her paddle. I just wanted my own. Thirdly I thought it would be a great souvenir to take with me from our around the world sailing trip. For just $80 US, I could have my own handmade paddle. After just one week of waiting, the masterpiece was in my hands. I was excited to test it out and show it off. Being a non-practice day, the day I took possession of it, I took out a friend’s V-1 and tested the new instrument. It was incredibly light and the length was perfect. At the end of the 4km paddle test-drive, I was satisfied with my investment: those 80 dollars were definitely worth it. To really make it mine, I decided to add a little something special to set it apart from other paddles; I carefully placed a Hinanao vahine beer sticker on the blade. The first time my teammates saw my new paddle, they admired it.Team selection . . .
Monday, three weeks before the Eimeo Race, training was intense. There were three teams. I was part of team 1 and sat in the first seat (Fahoro). Seated behind me were the two best girl paddlers. In seat four was the paddle shaper’s son, Jordi. Then sat the biggest paddler in our paddle group, Keoni, followed by the school’s best helmsman, Raphael, a French kid. Our pirogue was to verse two other canoes in a 4km practice race around Taiohae Bay. One of the opposing canoes consisted of four of the counselors and two strong teen boys. They would be our greatest threat. Frankly the third boat isn’t worth mentioning. Vanena hoe!!! And with that Tahitian shout, the teams were off and paddling. Each member of the three pirogues were paddling at once, trying with each stroke of their paddles to lift their pirogues out of the water, working ferociously to get their boat to plane or glide in order to take the lead. The counselors’ boat quickly took the lead with us right behind. One and half kilometers into the race, little had changed. When the counselors’ pirogue made the first turn around the anchored sailboats and toward the big wharf/fuel dock, our boat gunned it: everyone pushing, rowing, and breathing in perfect unison. Soon we were side by side, us versus them. After five minutes of intense paddling our pirogue took the lead. Once we were one V6 length ahead, I slowed the pace down, maintaining our glide without tiring us out before the finish line. Over the next 2 km, we maintained our boat-length lead. With only a half kilometer to go, our pirogue decided to step it up and finish hard. The captain ordered a three “hip” tempo. By the end of the 4km race, our boat finished first with the distance of two V6’s between us. I don’t even remember what happened to the third boat.
That finish signaled the end of that day’s practice too. After carrying the pirogues out of the surf and onto the turf for overnight storage, the professor called everyone over. She announced, “These are the students who will race in Moorea. Pirogue team set A – Bryce, Keoni (the girl), Jordi, Keoni (the guy), Esperance, and Raphael.” I was super excited. We would remain the same group as we had just raced. She then announced the members for Pirogue team set B. She explained that these were the two teams that would switch off paddling the one canoe around Moorea over the 9 stages. The only bad thing was that with only three weeks left before the big race, rowing practice would only get harder, and it did.
The next week, practice started as normal, with two 4 km tour, but with an added capsize drill at the end of the second tour. The following week, training ramped up more. It transformed into a single 8 km non-stop tour. At the end of training, we were all beat. I questioned whether I would have the stamina for the Moorea race. On the final week before we were to be air-bound, Cathy told us that in addition to racing around Moorea, the guys had to practice the traditional Marquesan warrior dance called haka putu, to be performed in front of all the other Eimeo racers. The other guys and I took each opportunity that week to practice our dance: before paddling, after paddling, and in-between lunches at school. For all the other male teammates, it was easy to dance and chant since they grew up with the dance and spoke Marquesian. But for me, it was a challenge. Memorizing the chant was the hardest, but I knew I could do it. On Wednesday, Cathy huddled all the kids over to remind us of what to bring for the trip: limited to two bags, lots of protein bars for the intervals between stages when we’d be on the team’s support motorboat, and money for the things we would surely want to buy in Tahiti. Everyone prepared for Tuesday’s departure, the start of our small adventure to Tahiti and Moorea.
For Monday’s practice, the day before we were to fly out, only a handful of the kids came to paddle. The two V6 pirogues were required to paddle 8 km. The first half we paddled at a moderate pace; the second, at a faster pace. Even though it was 8km our teams were ready for more, well worked but not exhausted.
That night I packed six t-shirts, six shorts, seven pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, sandals, pillow, blanket, rain jacket, sun glasses, hat, iPod (for music), and toiletries. I was so excited to travel by airplane and to explore a completely different island from the one I was use to. In the morning I packed a few more things for the race: my life jacket and my good-luck paddle.
Since I arrived in the Marquesas, I’ve seen a lot of tattoos. Almost everyone here has them, even kids my age. Marquesan tattooing is much more beautiful than US tattooing because the designs are not something aggressive like putting a dragon on yourself. They are beautiful, abstract or geometric designs that always look a little different in someone else’s eyes. I learned how to draw some of their popular designs in art class at school, like the tiki and the Marquesan southern cross.
I learned that tiki representations are used as protectors or defensive designs to guard or shield the wearer. According to renowned tattoo artist, Simeon Huuti, in the book, The Roots and Revival of Polynesian Tattoos, “In my tattoos, I always have a tiki image. The Tiki is like an emblem for the Marquesas and will always protect an aspect of our islands. Some believe they are evil…I believe that if we respect them, they will respect us.” The Marquesan symbol of the southern cross constellation is featured everywhere too. I have seen the Marquesan cross above the entrance of churches, in drawings, in stone and bone carvings, and as tattoos. When you draw several Marquesan crosses next to each other, you can often see a design of little Marquesan men arm-in-arm.
In 1819 the first Marquesan chief to embrace Catholicism forbid people to make and wear any more tattoos. It wasn’t until the 1980s that tattoos came back to French Polynesia. With the ancients, tattoos were a symbol of power. They were designed to show a person’s importance and to tell a person’s life story. Today, most Marquesan tattoos include symbols of who you are. And your tattoo is with you for the rest of your life.
One day I was playing basketball with Bryce and a person showed up and wanted to play with us. He had a very cool looking tattoo; it made me want to get the same tattoo, but I knew I wasn’t old enough to know what I would want when I’m older. I think I’m going to come back some day when I’m grown and get a tattoo just like the one that person had.
Kaoha Mom and Dad: So nice to hear from you. I enjoyed very much reading your email to Michel. Your news touched on some great things about your visit here, already three weeks ago. I loved reading your point of view.
[Dear Michel, we have been back from the Marquesas for over a week. We spent 3 weeks with Leslie, Eric, Bryce and Trent. The island is isolated so not many tourists, mostly boaters coming from the Galapagos. The boys are going to school there, French spoken, so it has been a big challenge for them.
They plan on staying on the island until May, when sailing season will have good projections. Leslie/Eric have many friends there as this is the third time Eric has sailed to the Marquesas. We stayed in one of their friends’ home for the 1st week we were there. It was up a hill with a lovely view of the harbor where the boat is anchored. While the island is not a 3rd world type of living environment, it is a way of life that is simple, void of many of our typical comforts. The first home we stayed in had a full kitchen, hot and cold water, where most of the homes we experienced had no hot water. We had boar meat for some of our meals, and our favorite, fresh raw tuna very often. Trent turned 12 and Bryce 14 while we were there. We had perfect weather, with humidity of course as it is tropical. People who have cars usually have large 4 door, 4 wheel drive diesel trucks as the roads are quite primitive and full of rocks and potholes.
There is only one road to the other side of the island, where we travelled about three times. We rented one of those trucks for a week while we were there. Eric drove, of course. We loved the green green scenery and hikes and the sailing. All of us snorkeled one day, and accumulated lots of lovely shells to bring back. Beach combing for shells was a favorite thing for us, but we had to cover up as there are a lot of biting insects on the beach. There is no laying on the beach to get a tan!
The two highlights that we remember most were feeding semi-wild pigs coconuts and our incredible hike to the waterfall at the end of Hakaoui Bay, next to Daniel’s Bay where Survivor Marquesas was filmed. Of course, time with the family was golden. We were treated like royals. We miss our Kandu family very much, and feel the long trip that we made was very very worth it. Sending you all our love from Oakland, Rosie and Ron.]
Last week was very busy. We got our US income taxes submitted on Tuesday: two days before our October 15th deadline! Gee, that felt good to get that off our shoulders. A friend from Tahiti happened to be in town on Sunday and Monday – so we spent some quality time with her and her bank boss who had come to Nuku Hiva to check-up on various bank investments. It was interesting to learn about Marquesan start-up businesses and how entrepreneurs here qualify for loans.
Friday I helped Raymonde teach children how to make yogurt in a couple elementary school classes (I first spent a separate morning with 5 other volunteers learning how to make yogurt in a rice cooker). We will make yogurt again tomorrow morning, Monday, with three more classes. It is actually quite simple to make. You heat a liter of skimmed milk stirring it continuously until it’s hot but never boiling, you add and mix together ½ cup live yogurt, 4 heaping tablespoons of whole powdered milk, 10 teaspoons of sugar or less and wait for the mixture to steam. Remove from heat, divide into portions and place in a warm environment for 6-8 hours or overnight. Then transfer to the refrigerator and consume. Yum yum! Since it’s so easy, I plan to make some on the boat. I already bought special yogurt containers before we left on our trip.
We have been helping Bryce and Trent more with their homework as they are becoming more capable of comprehending the French in their classes. Eric was involved in recording an ad for breast cancer for Raymonde who is putting on a big cancer awareness event this Friday – which I will be helping with all day.
We also went again to watch/hear the dance rehearsal Friday night that Nuku Hiva residents are preparing for the December festival on Hiva Oa. Watching and listening to their songs and drum battery is always an exciting cultural experience.
Two weeks ago we ordered an outrigger paddle for me, fashioned by a local paddler. I received the paddle earlier this week and admire it’s beautiful workmanship. It feels like I can paddle faster and more efficiently. Ha ha! Bryce is now paddling two times a week through his school.
Unfortunately, Trent is too young to paddle through the school. Last week, I paddled three times with our mixed group of French residents, cruisers and Marquesan club members. Eric and the boys actually went out twice in the three-man outrigger. Also, I’m really enjoying aqua gym in the ocean with the ladies on Tuesday and Thursday mornings . . . great exercise and enjoyable company.
Today, there was an historical tour of Taiohae bay that started at 9:30 til 12:30. It was quite interesting. One tidbit we learned about the history of Nuku Hiva was that it was first discovered by an American merchant ship captain, Joseph Ingrams in 1791. Later in 1813 during the war of 1812 while harassing British flag ships in the Pacific, the bay was claimed for America by Navy Captain David Porter and named Madison Island. Taiohae was named Madisonville and the bay, Massachusetts Bay. It’s a convoluted story, but suffice it to say that he arrived with 8 ships, commandeered from the British, with many mouths to feed.
The Marquesan chief and residents of Taiohae valley agreed to let them build a fort and lay claim to the eastern part of the bay (the least desirable section because there was no river) and to provide them pigs as long as they fought and defeated the neighboring valley Taipi Vai, whose residents had been harassing Taiohae. In order to feed his men, Captain Porter reluctantly waged war on Taipi Vai, firing canons, shooting guns and lighting aflame magnificently carved structures that covered the valley. Reportedly the day after, the Taipi Vai people showed up with 300 pigs. Months later Captain Porter had to leave and shortly thereafter the American claim went with him. Congress never ratified the annex. The French took over control in 1846.
My English classes are three times a week now because I have an advanced group and a beginner group. My students are advancing steadily. I spent Friday morning learning some teaching tips at Linda and Chuck’s boat, Jacaranda. Previously watching me teach English, she got very excited and wanted to share some technics that she used when she taught ‘English as a Second Language.’ She had great ideas like throwing an ‘un-birthday’ party and wrapping up some gag gifts…everything to be spoken in English, of course. I plan to prepare that particular idea sooner than later. Sadly, Jacaranda is supposed to leave for Anaho today, but looking out into the bay – they are still here, so they will probably depart tomorrow morning. We will likely not see them again until December during the Marquesan Matava’a festival in Hiva Oa. I will miss our fun conversations and her artistic input. Did you ever check out her website? She is constantly adding great articles about the islands and the interesting things they learn: s/v Jacaranda blog
The boys have been spending quality time Boogie boarding. They cannot get enough time on their Boogie boards, taking advantage of the large southern swell, which will change to a northern pattern in December. They headed out again today and had a great time…who wouldn’t considering how wonderful and clear the water is on these hot-humid days with little rain. Academically, Trent is really enjoying reading his “dragon” books on the new Kindle. He just loves them. His comprehension is improving in English and French.
You also have been very busy. Congrats on selling your little red car. Yahoo! Thanks for sending the school package of pen-pal letters from here off to Allison Maires at Cabrillo Middle School. I will write her to make sure she knows to look for a package in the mail. I appreciate you purchasing the items for us for when Shannon and Charlie come to visit.
Well all that is probably a bit more than you were expecting to read. I will sign-off here. Just know that I am thinking of you….
Dearest Mom – Glad dad set-off okay on his annual fishing trip. I’m sure he was very excited to hang out with his long time buddies again, catch some fish, and on top of it relate some great stories about his recent trip to the Marquesas…which, of course, is a hunter’s and fisherman’s paradise.
At the beginning of this week, after a week vacation, Trent and Bryce were very discouraged restarting school. They were predominantly frustrated by the difficulty of not understanding what the teachers were wanting and what was required of them due to their still limited French. One of Bryce’s teachers got so angry with Bryce having incorrectly completed his homework by wrongly writing his notes in the front of his notebook instead of the back that she ripped the pages out of his notebook and shredded them in front of the class. It was a low-point for Bryce. We set a meeting with that teacher for next week and discussed with boys the possibility of arranging some of their more friendly classmates to spend a moment after class to explain their homework assignments, etc.
Then there was the incident when Trent was playing volleyball after school Wednesday and the other boys were purposely hitting the ball hard at him. They told Trent that he could use anything to keep the ball in the air including his feet. So the next time the ball came at him, Trent kicked it and it accidentally slammed into an older boy’s face. There was a bit of tittering/laughing by the others, but Trent felt badly. He approached the older boy and asked him if he was okay. The older boy reached out to shake his hand, but instead slapped Trent hard on the face. Trent fought back tears. Not wishing to show any weakness, he stayed a while longer to show that the older boy’s action was not right and that he would not be intimidated. The older boy has since not aggressed Trent and there seems to be no hard feelings. Trent is more wary now.
The bully that was taunting Bryce while you were here has fortunately been called off through school administrators. However, Bryce says girls come up to him and ask if he wants to fight. Go figure. On the bright side, it’s teaching Bryce to be a little more politically savvy…instead of vying for the position of top dog all the time, he is being forced to learn how to exercise humility to his benefit, employing patience over expedience – something that will benefit him his entire life – a skill that even his father didn’t develop until becoming a VP at Sony.
Due to these events, I was not in great humor yesterday. I worry and fret over my boys and want to protect them. Eric has really stepped up to make sure that the school knows we expect our boys to be treated well and that we are not absentee parents.
It is a crazy business living on a boat. The water pump failed and Eric had to pull it out due to my mistake of not turning off the pump when I left the boat. Unbeknownst to me, the water tank had gotten so low that the freshwater pump kept running, for 6 hours, non-stop, trying to pump nonexistent water. So now we don’t have running water in the bathrooms or kitchen sink, just the two foot pumps. Bummer. Of all the replacement parts that Eric brought along, a water pump was not one, nor repair kits, so Eric has been trying to figure out how to go about ordering a replacement pump and repair kits without having it cost an arm and a leg. We need it before our next visitors so we have to go through a customs agent in Papéeté to import it without paying customs as a ‘boat in transit’ and to insure that it doesn’t get held up for months in Papéeté. Even so, it looks like we won’t have running water for a month or so. Ugh!
We attended a Marquesan dance rehearsal last night. Dancers from Taiohae and Taipi Vai are rehearsing almost every weeknight until they depart for the December Matava’a Marquesan Arts Festival in Hiva Oa. The boys and Eric are on the fence about participating. I’m for sure not going to dance. Even if he and the boys are not good enough to dance in the festival, Eric thinks it’s a good use of time in the evenings to learn and participate in the culture instead of sitting around on the boat doing nothing special. Good point, right?
This weekend is getting full. We organized “movie night” tonight for the boarding students at the boys’ school. And we will leave early tomorow morning for Aakapa by car. I may or may not sing at their important Saint Therese celebration on Sunday. We’ll see. It’s the sole reason why we’re going, but no one seems to know how to appeal to the bishop about my singing for them. I’ve prepared a condensed version of Mozart’s ‘Alleluia’ to be sung A Capella. We’ll see if the bishop can be persuaded. It’s blustery and rainy today; cool unlike yesterday’s heavy humidity and hot weather. My ladies’ English class went well as did out-rigging. Felt good to get into the water and engage in some heavy-duty exercise. Thinking of you always….
It took two days via two jet planes from San Francisco to Hawaii, across the equator to Tahiti traveling 4,000 miles, before we boarded a third plane, this one a twin propeller plane, to cross the last 700 miles of ocean to finally arrive at the 131 square mile island of Nuka Hiva. Nuku Hiva is the administrative capital of the Marquesas Islands where our beloved family eagerly awaited to greet us, then gleefully adorned our travel-weary necks with layer upon layer of both amazing floral and wonderfully beaded necklaces. We could hardly believe how much our two grandsons had grown. (Yes, they loved that they’re now both taller than their Nani.)
Nuku Hiva is the largest and most northern of the Marquesas Islands. Its small airport (a runway so small, they mustn’t completely fill the plane with passengers and are very strict on weight) is located on the northern side of the island, directly opposite the south facing bay of Taiohae where the Rigney family’s sailboat Kandu is anchored. While making the trek from the airport, it seemed like every switchback offered a more beautiful view of Nuku Hiva’s lush, jagged mountainsides.
We stopped often to photograph our experience, as well as to benefit from continuous hugs. The drive across the island took 1-½ hours over mountainous terrain, paved by the island’s newest road. Unbeknownst to us at that time, the rest of the island’s roads are poorly maintained dirt roads that only 4-wheel drive vehicles can travel.
To make our first week comfortable and luxurious, Leslie and Eric arranged for us to lodge at Heloise and Pifa’s home located high above the seaside village with lovely views of Taiohae bay and her tropical volcanic hillsides.
What made the arrangement even more special was that Leslie stayed with us the whole time we were at the house, taking full advantage of our time together. She also served as our French interpreter. Each morning, after getting the boys off to school, Eric would drive the rented 4-wheel drive diesel pick-up, up the home’s steep roadway to bring us fresh pastries or French baguettes. After school, Eric would then fetch the boys, bringing them to our hillside abode to hang out and later dine. We felt very pampered.
A few days after our arrival, the Falchetto family held a dinner in our honor at the home of Sebastian and Raymonde Falchetto. We gathered to share Marquesan dishes of fresh tuna, fruits, and vegetables. It was a delicious feast of Polynesian tradition and friendship.
We later reciprocated by providing the Falchettos a Mexican dinner, complete with rice, beans, tortillas, margaritas, and colorful handmade paper cutout decorations that the boys and I made and strung along the balcony’s edge. Olé!!!
I want to add that around the homes of Marquesans we were often awakened by the noise of roosters crowing, hens scratching, and family hunting dogs sniffing. They all run loose, along with cats, and all are friendly. The island’s remote South Pacific location limited natural animal migration. Early Polynesians brought pigs, dogs, chickens, and the black rat. Early Europeans rounded the Marquesas’ animal population out by bringing cats, goats, sheep, horses, and cows. Today, Marquesan dogs appear to be of the same “mutt” lineage with some showing a hint of pit-bull. The island’s bird family is limited, consisting mainly of tropic and frigate sea birds, doves, peeping finches, chickens and a protected large grey-black pigeon called upe. There are no predatory animals such as foxes, snakes, wolves, etc. Only the boars can be a potential threat, biting people’s heads if they sleep on secluded beaches (it really happened to a friend of Sebastien’s, yikes!!!).
One of Ron’s highlights was an archeology speedboat adventure to a remote corner of the island’s un-inhabited eastside. Along with four others, they went to search for samples of unusual basalt used to make ancient tools. The adventure was orchestrated by Sebastien, who had been requested by his friend, Michel, a French archeologist, to travel to a site suspected by Michel as the source of a rare basalt, possibly used to make tools bartered throughout Polynesia, including Hawaii and New Zealand. Rocky terrain and seas made landing a huge challenge for Michel, so Renaissance man, can-do-anything Sebastian volunteered to disembark onto a slippery rock shelf. He successfully located the unique area Michel had hoped for, and extracted samples of the rare basalt, which would later be analyzed in New Zealand and compared against other samples already archived within the lab’s database. While exploring, Sebastien unexpectedly came across what appeared to be a sacred site, filled with various relics. Respectfully, with the sign of white tropicbirds flying above his head, Sebastien left it untouched, much to the dismay of Michel.
While the men were busy on their adventure, Leslie and I stayed ashore and explored the picturesque bay of Hatiheu, written about by Robert Louis Stevenson. We visited with local and renowned dignitary, Yvonne. Her stories of the history and politics of the Marquesas Islands were insightful. It was two hours of pure fascination. After our coffee chat at her popular seaside restaurant, Leslie and I walked up to Hatiheu’s ancient ruins, marked by stone foundations.
The center was a gathering place called the Temahea and the surrounding home foundations are called Paepae. It was at this site that we came upon a massive sacred Banyan tree and located ancient petroglyphs carved onto huge, moss-covered boulders. Then our archeological adventurers unexpectedly joined us.
Together, we left the site and drove to a place where we hiked to the island’s only known naturally carbonated spring. And then we were off, back to Taiohae, over Nuku Hiva’s steep, rugged roads, both dirt and paved. I will never complain about the condition of our California roads again!
Sold as a “not-to-miss” adventure, we were prompted to hike to the tallest waterfall found in French Polynesia located in gorgeous Hakaui valley, just inland from neighboring Daniel’s Bay. We arrived after a 1-½ hour sail from Taiohae, disembarked and walked to the nearby, very small village to greet locals. If asked, for a fee, some families will prepare a local Marquesan lunch upon your return from the typically 4 to 5-hour trek to the waterfall and back. So we put in our reservation and off we hiked for 2-½ hours up and 2 hours back.
Along the way, we carefully waded through several small rivers, endured high heat and humidity, dodged rocks and bugs, and finally entered the valley where mountains soared straight up the canyon’s sheer walls, making us feel like we were mini-aliens. Here we found a freezing cold (tropically speaking) pond that we needed to swim across in order to access the hidden area where the waterfall falls. Ron and I first hesitated, but eventually, encouraged by Bryce and Trent, we swam over to meet up for this unforgettable sight. The sounds and colors were breathtaking! I’ll never forget the fusion of sunlight, mist, and sound.
While the sand beaches are not desirable for sunbathing due to the nasty No-see-ums, they are fantastic for gathering shells and snorkeling. Our Kandu crew spoiled us by sailing to bays where both of these pastimes were available: Anaho and Taipi Vai.
We especially loved the gathering of “porcelain” shells in Anaho, which could only be reached by taking the dinghy to a rocky tide pool area alongside the neighboring ridge. Also, snorkeling made it fun to gather shells lying amongst the coral. We loved those 2 and 3-day outings where we sailed with the family, enjoying the beauty of the landscape and the thrill of the sail. On a side note, friends of Eric and Leslie are diligent collectors and have amazing assortments of many kinds of seashells found on the islands. We felt privileged to see their personal collections.
Driving inland to the home of Chantale and Denis Tetohu, we experienced the richness of their hospitality. Comfort, generosity, and adventure were what was ahead during our stay with them in Nuku Hiva’s fourth largest (120pp) village, Aakapa. Sisters and brothers were included in our evening meals, so we shared laughter and stories…all translated from French by Leslie and Eric.
The boys had time off from school, so we all participated in the “feeding of the pigs” at the family pig farm as well as watching our grandsons enjoy the nearby surf. The pigs are a cross of wild boar and semi-domestic pig, used by the family to supplement their meals as well as selling the dressed pigs to local buyers. Pigs are fed coconut by cracking open coconut shells gathered on the property in abundance. The guys showed off their muscles by axing the soon-to-be devoured shells. I felt this day was one of the highlights of the trip.
Another very big highlight was attending a Sunday service at Aakapa’s local Catholic Church. The service and singing were performed completely in Marquesan…so understanding the words was impossible, but the strength of music and holiness captured our hearts especially when Leslie closed by singing “Ave Maria” . . . so lovely.
Local living in Taiohae for the boys includes schooling (all in French), boogie-boarding or surfing, biking to school, playing basketball and volleyball, watching movies on the boat, reading, writing, limited video-gaming, and performing boat chores. Leslie and Eric stay trim by participating in the popular Polynesian sport of outrigger-canoe paddling. Both paddle at least twice a week. Leslie teaches English to locals, mostly French lady friends, twice a week. Eric is involved with keeping the boat in good shape, and befriending the local Marquesans with his ideas and skills. The family is immersed in the culture.
Our visit to see Leslie, Eric, Bryce and Trent gave us perspective on their lives as they learn about and live in another culture. We met many friendly and loving friends there. Some of them included American cruising sailors. Marquesan or French locals, or international sailors, each one of them generously shared their affection and amity, which we brought home with us with full hearts. Fondly we offer our thanks to so many and for so much. The next time we visit, the boys might very will be just a bit taller than their Papa. We plan to have our next family adventure with them when we visit this fall in Raiatea, next to Bora Bora and Tahiti. Rosie.
The tropics are hot and humid. That’s no news to you or me. Almost daily since Kandu dropped lower than the latitude of Puerto Vallarta, my face drips off around five times. I’ve discovered the importance of eyebrows. Most of the time they keep stinging, salty sweat from dripping into and torturing my eyes. My complexion is a bit of a mess too. Also, instead of using commercial anti-perspirants, we use fresh squeezed organic limejuice to kill the odor causing bacteria from under our arms. Now I notice unpleasant scents within just 20 minutes after cleaning. Ugh!
While living afloat in the near 90-degree seawater of Taiohae Bay you can imagine how much we look forward to the cooling off sensation at nightfall. Now that the four of us are acclimated to the warm temperatures, we actually enjoy the feeling of feeling cold around 4:00 am in the morning. At that early hour, the engine, the stove or cooktop, and the exterior of the boat have completely cooled off. However, one place on the boat that cools down more quickly than any other is the foredeck. After sunset, by 7:30 p.m., condensation typically starts to build which provides a slick place to hang out and cool before heading to bed. Even if my clothes get a little wet, the refrigeration effect is pleasant and the fresh water dries quickly.
Once I’m finished cooking dinner, all the while sweating profusely, we enjoy family time: sharing conversation over dinner, perhaps finishing a movie, or playing a card game. After family time, I pack away the leftovers. Then when the night sky is clear, I meander topside to the bow. I lay facing upwards to gaze at the sky and ponder the day, the themes of a book I’m reading, the future, the universe, the beautiful lights, or God. Sometimes I’m accompanied by Trent. He and I quietly chat about school, family issues, boat work, or about a strategic move he organized during his allotted time to play video games on the Internet at the local wharf café, “Snack Vaeaki,” otherwise known as “Chez Henri.” This is a favorite part of my day. Our heads practically touch on the foredeck. Sometimes I search for his hand and hold it while we talk. The boat rocks to and fro, or up and down like a seesaw.
When alone, I simply gaze around me and contemplate the beauty of the evening, whether the sky is clear or somewhat overcast. I search for Orion. I wonder what my loved ones might be doing back in California; if they contemplated the moon before going to bed that night – the same full moon that shines here so brightly out of the dark that it actually pains my eyes to look at it. Every time I gaze over the black night water I see a fairy’s dance of anchor lights, as if suspended in mid-air, the tops of boat masts swaying each way. If any of you have ever enjoyed or remember Anaheim Disneyland’s Peter Pan ride, you know what I mean when I tell you that it feels like I’m drifting among the stars. Like the celebrated California Adventure ride “California Souring” smells of the island waft in the air sometimes heavy with flower, or simply fragrances of fresh greenery and the heavy scent of fresh earth. The smell of the ocean has so permeated my nose now that I actually no longer smell the salt and green algae of the sea. And to top all this wonder, on weekends or holidays, popular Polynesian music often drifts over from the shoreline from speakers, accompanied by the laughter of partygoers on the beach. The shore is far enough away that the sounds are never too loud, just pleasantly charming heard only from top deck. Once one descends inside the boat’s interior space, exterior noises are hardly noticeable. If there is no music, my ears are alert to the sounds of waves crashing, water tickling the boat, or even jumping fish. The sound of little schools of pointy nosed fish jumping out of the water is intriguing; much like the sound of an American Indian rain stick. I speculate whether a larger fish may be chasing them or if they jump in response to light emanating from a passing car’s headlights.
There are times when the day was so hot, humid, and my time spent busy with boat repairs and various land activities that I actually fall asleep on the hard cool deck that slants outward toward the water. I rarely bring a pillow, so my head lolls back and forth generally in the direction of the water and likely my neck ends up in a crooked, uncomfortable position. At that point discomfort alerts me to get up and go to bed. By that time, I’m sufficiently cooled off. I meander down stairs, into the Kandu’s interior living space, drink a glass of water to rehydrate from all the day’s sweating, brush my teeth, and sleep soundly . . . that is, unless it starts to rain, whereby all the open hatches and port lights must be closed and the sauna of the interior living space steams up again!
Often after school when I’m not tired and it’s not raining, I go to my dad’s friend Sebastien’s house to shoot arrows into a large/thick cardboard box with drawings of chickens on it. At his house it is really fun for a couple of reasons: I don’t have to pay any money to do archery now that I’ve bought my own bow and arrows, and I can shoot as many arrows as I want or as many as I have all at one time without waiting for clearance. When I’m done shooting, I can walk right away over to the target to retrieve my arrows without waiting for a bell to alert me that it’s “all clear,” or for someone to tell me it’s okay. There are also reasons why it’s not perfect. I don’t shoot into hay blocks to stop the arrows. Instead, I use cardboard, so sometimes the arrows go through all the way to the feathers and that damages them. That has happened to five of my arrows so far – but all I have to do is glue the feathers back and the arrows should be as good as new. Another bummer is that it rains a lot more here in the Marquesas than in Southern California, so I cannot go shooting as much as I’d like.
I got my bow and arrows when Uncle Nick came to visit us here in Nuku Hiva last August. I knew my bow and arrows were coming, so I was very excited. We opened all the goodies at Sebastien’s house. Bryce was expecting something special too – a special hunting knife. We were both quite impatient to open up Uncle Nick’s bags. Not only did Uncle Nick bring my bow, but also he brought 12 practice arrows with blunt tips. They work fine for practicing against cardboard. While Uncle Nick was visiting, I didn’t get a chance to practice my archery, but when he left it took about a week or so to find a thick cardboard box. Once I got set-up, I practiced archery often during the next month. However, I got a little discouraged because some of my practice arrows were getting damaged or ruined and I only had the 12 that Uncle Nick brought. My grandparents came and school other activities got busy, so I stopped for awhile until after friends visited us over Christmas and brought some real arrows. Plus my dad mentioned that it wouldn’t be easier to do archery anywhere else. I agreed with him and started back up practicing about an hour five days a week. I am now starting to get pretty good. I have hit the cardboard chicken ten arrows out of twelve times. I can even approach the target moving stealthily or running and hit the chicken drawing two out of five times. I still have lots of room for improvement, but I’m starting to think I might be able to target real chickens now. Chickens run wild all over the island and are considered pests. The fact that they’re edible is a bonus. I better tell my mom to learn how to cook “Coq au vin.” It’s the only way to eat this kind of chicken – the kind that actually forages for food and runs!
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