Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #22

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on an unwelcome visitor and the difference between being blessed and being lucky.  This past week, the South Pacific area prepared for an unwanted guest. Cyclone Pam was ferociously bearing down on the islands in that vast ocean. While the mere mention of a cyclone is enough to cause panic, those who stood the greater chance of being affected by the high winds and rain, were the ones who prepared most diligently. It was fascinating to observe the varied levels of reaction and preparation.

We all heard late last week that a major tropical storm was heading our way. As is often the case, the storm trackers made first one announcement as to the possible path Pam might be taking, only to have that warning updated when the winds changed direction. It was first speculated that Fiji would be the most likely to take a direct hit. Almost immediately, our Fijian friends started posting their fears on Facebook and asking for our prayers. It was sometime later, as we were all nervously listening for updates that we first heard that the tiny nation of Vanuatu would more than likely be directly in the cyclone’s destructive path. Vanuatu is one of the poorest nations on earth and consists of a cluster of about eighty small islands, with a population of about 260,000 people.

Pacific Islanders started making their own version of preparations according to the level of warning that they received. Having heard that Gisborne should not expect the worst, but knowing that circumstances can change very suddenly, those of us on the east coast of New Zealand began thinking seriously about what should be done to protect ourselves. In our grocery stores there was a sense of excitement. Schools and businesses announced closures for Monday and Tuesday and a buying frenzy was taking place. The whole city had an almost carnival-like atmosphere surrounding the preparations. People were laughing and joking about where they would be and what they would be doing when Pam came to town. I will spare you the details and punch lines, but it seemed that no one was taking the warnings very seriously. It was curious to note that the market shelves were totally devoid of water, bread, beer and frozen pizza. 

Meanwhile on the islands of Vanuatu a very different and far more serious effort was being made in anticipation of Pam’s unwelcome arrival. As one of the strongest storms on record bore down on them, the residents buried food and fresh water. They took serious heed of the warnings. They sought refuge in a church or school when that was possible. Many even hid in the kilns used for drying coconuts as winds as high as 180 mph tore through their flimsy houses.

For almost twenty four hours, the villagers of Vanuatu tried valiantly to protect themselves and their loved ones from injury and loss of life. Two days after the storm had passed, a helicopter flew over a costal village and reported total devastation with no signs of life. When visited one day later, dozens of villagers were back rebuilding with what meager materials they could find and reporting only one injury. An aide worker was quoted as saying, “ Everyone is just getting on with it. It’s what they do.” 

Gisborne,  narrowly escaping the devastating drama was experiencing the storm, which was situated off shore, in an entirely different way. We too had twenty-four hours of strong winds and rain, but many of us were curious as to what changes would actually occur as a result of the storm. We were so intrigued by the mention of thirty-foot swells, that instead of staying home where it was warm and dry, we ventured out to the beaches to watch the changes in the ocean. Where in the days preceding the storm, there was a sense of excitement, that excitement had been replaced by a sense of awe and greater respect for the forces of Mother Nature. Suddenly the unreal and unlikely became vividly real and menacing. The sea was frightening and turbulent and I for one, found myself praying that there was no one battling those elements on a ship. It was a powerful experience and humbling. It was while gazing across a roiling ocean that I began to appreciate, from my limited perspective, that a group of people somewhere out there were cold and wet and frightened.

 By Tuesday afternoon, Gisborne was almost back to normal. The wind was still blowing, but not as hard and there were only intermittent rain showers. The storm had passed and all was well. I have, however, been mulling over a comment that I overheard concerning how blessed New Zealand was to have missed the carnage. Blessed? Personally, I feel that we often over use the word blessed. I am uncomfortable with the idea that New Zealand was blessed, while Vanuatu was not. How can I feel that I was blessed because the storm missed us all the while knowing that there are others who are suffering ? What is the opposite of blessed? Why in the randomness of a cyclone would one nation be blessed and not another? I find myself believing that New Zealand, in this case simply got lucky and Vanuatu not so much. But I would say that those simple villagers were blessed with the positive attitudes to have the faith to help each other start all over again. Their willingness to work together isn’t luck, it truly is a blessing.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We have gained a healthy respect for weather forces far beyond our control. We are reminded what it’s like to feel so insignificant in the face of such power. We are grateful on the other hand, that we do not feel insignificant in our relationships with you and want you to know that you are not insignificant to us either. We truly are blessed to have you in our lives and hope that we will be lucky enough to have you all right where you should be when we return!

Love, Ward and Susan    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

Ward, the intrepid storm tracker, faces the elements at Wainui Beach

 

It was sobering to see a usually calm beach in great turmoil

 

 

The ocean looks like it has been beaten with a giant mixer. Reports of 9-metre swells were not uncommon. These waves broke quite a distance from shore and measured around 6 metres.

 

If you look closely, you may be able to see the outline of mountains that nestle Gisborne. This photo was taken mid-day on Monday during the height of the storm

 

 

Two days later, you can clearly see Gisborne . Although much calmer, there are still more white caps than usual.

 

 

This photo was taken yesterday, five days after the storm. If you compare this shot with the one directly before it, you can clearly see the difference in the ocean. It is only the beginning of cyclone season, so wish us luck!!