blackrockbulletin: Adventures in Paradise 48

Adventures in Paradise 48

Kia Orana, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on H.G. Wells, his time machine, and the places we call home. I have always been fascinated with the idea of time travel. In truth, taking a sneak peak at the future has not held much interest for me, as my curiosity lies more in the area of visiting the past. In his novel, “The Time Machine”, H.G. Wells tells the story of an English scientist who is also enamored with the idea of time and its different dimensions. This scientist designs and constructs a machine capable of transporting a human being from one era to another. I loved that book and recall once holding three cousins captive, oh I mean spellbound, while I related the entire novel to them!

The time machine that I boarded last week was much like the one I had read about in the novel. It had a vast display of instruments and gauges. There were dials to be twisted and knobs to be turned. There were fluctuating needles and rows of numbers on the panel. Unlike the machine in the story however, my time machine could carry fourteen passengers at one time. Our destination was slated to be Mangaia, a land that time forgot. Actually, Mangaia is an island in the Cook Island chain. It is a forty minute flight from Raro, but it is a world that no longer exists for most of us. When people told me that life was slower there and about fifty years behind Rarotonga, I thought that I knew what to

expect but I was wrong. So began one of the most life-altering experiences of my existence.

I watched with rapt attention as items were being loaded onto our small plane. Thirteen Mangaians were going home and they were bringing with them supplies for sustaining life on their island. I noticed box after box of noodles similar to our Top Ramen. There were blankets, new flip flops, lettuce, crackers, frozen chicken and canned corned beef. I noticed baby diapers, fishing poles and Styrofoam coolers. Most of my fellow time-travelers did not have suitcases, rather they had packed large woven bags or simply had belongings tied up in large plastic shopping bags. There was no security check, so I knew that I could bring bottled water with me. Ward had gone on the day before and via cell phone had warned me about what would be missing when I arrived. He informed me that bottled water was not available there. I also brought homemade chicken sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (thanks to our last visitors who brought peanut butter), New Zealand grown apples and yogurt.

Our time machine landed on a dirt “runway”. Instead of runway lights, this narrow, unpaved and rocky landing strip was lined on both sides with tires painted a fluorescent orange. Needless to say, there are no night flights. To be honest, I have never felt quite so unsettled as I did in the moment that I set foot on that island. Knowing that there would not be another plane for three days, and no other means of leaving, I felt isolated. Later, borrowing an old car, Ward drove me around the island. There is not one paved road in existence there and we did not see another vehicle on our entire fifteen mile round trip. In fact in many places, it looked like a scene out of “Jurassic Park”. I kept thinking that a T-Rex would come lumbering out of the jungle any minute! We did have to stop for a goat traffic jam, but that was all. Even with Ward’s company, I was beginning to feel uncomfortably alone.

We were asked to come to the island to teach and although that was our purpose, we still had to go about the business of settling in. We are used to seeing the ocean from our home, but one cannot see the ocean from most places on Magnaia. We felt closed in. There is no beach, only steep rocky paths leading down to the water. The homes are more humble that I can express and there are just two gas pumps; one on each side of the island. There are two small grocery stores with very limited choice and availability. We bought a can of corned beef (10.00) a container of juice, a loaf of bread (that mildewed before we could eat it) some powdered milk and powdered Milo. The bill was a staggering 54.00! I would like to mention here, the generosity of the islanders who shared all they had with us. Each evening, children would deliver a dinner to us consisting of taro, kumura (sweet potatoes) and bananas. One evening “dessert” was a beautiful home-grown tomato.

These people have so little, but are so generous. They love their island and are eager to show it off. They have a simple dignity about them and there is no class distinction. No one is homeless and no one starves. They are experts at sharing.We knew that we were having the same meal that they were having They grow as much as they possibly can on their own land. Purchased food is expensive as it all has to be shipped by boat. The boat arrives every two months or so and if the island runs out of something, people simply wait for the next boat. There are no complaints. It seems strange that an island should have to ration water, but they do, so the water is turned on at 5:00 pm for two or three hours. There is no hot water and the water must be boiled to be safe to drink. If you would like a warm bath, you boil water, then add it to cold water. Pour the water sparingly from the bucket for a sponge bath. Electricity is expensive as well, so when it’s dark, people just go to bed. There is no fast food or take out, let alone a restaurant. There is little variety in what they eat, but they enjoy each meal in the company of friends and family. Sunday afternoon, we stopped by to visit the young woman who had been baptized that morning and realized that in order to escape the heat, her parents having laid a mat under a low-hanging branch were sleeping in the yard. There are no best-dressed lists. People don their best attire for church as a show of respect. I noticed several men arrive without shoes, and one woman was wearing the same pair of mismatched flip-flops that she had worn the day before. It was all she had. This truly is their Sunday best. There is no make-up available, so women are lovely without it. I noticed a whole row of children staring at me during church and one ten-year old girl finally asked me what was that stuff on my face? And I thought that I was going for the natural look!

Our friend, who works for the tiny, very primitive hospital drives around the island each Thursday looking for white flags. A white flag in a person’s yard indicates that the doctor is needed. So, the doctor makes a house call. We, who are so used to the “insta-care” style of medical help, may find this to be a very primitive form of medicine. But the doctor does know them all personally. There is no movie theater, or gathering spot other than an overgrown soccer field. There is no tv. There is no library, and the school for the islands two hundred and fifty students is held in one building. Did I mention that the total population of the island is only five hundred people? They all know each other and like it that way. Parents and grandparents wish the best for their children, but prefer to keep them on the island, rather than have them influenced by worldly pursuits.

On a humorous note, the total tourism budget for last year was 89.00. The goal of the minister of tourism was to increase the total number of visitors coming to the island. Last year, the island averaged two tourists per month. This year, things are improving with an average of two visitors per week! We were happy to help the island meet their quota for the month. But with no tourist accommodations and certainly no rental cars, it can be a daunting task for a stranger to keep himself situated.

As I thought about the isolated lives that our new friends lead, I had a little epiphany concerning my own life. I have always been proud of the fact that I could say that I have never been lonely. I mistakenly believed that I could live an isolated life and be content. What I now realize is that I have always had the opportunity to choose when to be alone, while all the while knowing that I could simply walk out my door or pick up my phone. Never in my life have I experienced the isolation from all things that I know as I did this last week. Even our cell phone ran out of minutes! I have discovered that I am not as adaptable to the “simple life” as I thought. The past, or a more simple way of life does not sound as romantic to me as it once did. I would not willingly choose this life for myself. But our new friends have done just that. Most have been off the island at one time or another. Often, they have lived in places like Rarotonga or even

New Zealand

and have chosen to come home. They do not wish for more than they already have. They have seen the future and have chosen another way.

So, as always, we are happy and trying to work hard. Our Mangaian friends sent us back to the future with a bag of home-grown tomatoes, beautiful eis, and their love. We left them with our apples, our love and respect and all the dollar store reading glasses that I happened to have with me. I wish now, that I had thought to bring something to share with the children. I am learning. We are coming back to a future that includes friends and family and for that we are grateful. We will never see the world in quite the same way again. I view abundance much differently now. I must say that I appreciate being able to choose, but I have learned that I don’t need as much of anything as I though I did. I expect that we will be far more grateful for the lives that we have been given all the while knowing that our new friends are just as grateful for what they have.

To quote Uber-Morlock (from “The Time Machine”)

“We all have our time machines, don’t we? Those that take us back are memories and those that carry us forward are dreams.”

Love, Ward and Susan Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks