We are preparing to leave the island of Pohnpei where there is a jet airport, shops a hospital and internet. It could take weeks or months to reach the next destination of Palau depending on what remote stops we choose along the way. Before departing, I wanted to throw up this overlooked blog from Vanuatu.



What's In Those Eggs

Wrapped in the villagers dirty cloth sack were 17 eggs. From his canoe, he gently handed the sack up to us on Brick House. For better protection, we placed each egg in our empty paper egg carton and the remainder in a plastic container. We had to smile at the cultural misinterpretation.

We had sailed our 40' boat to Uraparapara, one of the most remote islands in northern Vanuatu. Many decades ago, the villagers stopped wearing grass clothes but today they do rely on trading with the occasional supply boat which brings cotton garments, factory made food and modern technology, like flashlights. For those supply boats, the natives currency is burlap sacks of dried coconut meat, copra, in exchange for the items they need and at times the supply boat gives them a small surplus of paper Vatu money to hide under their mat. This village had not seen a supply boat for over 6 months and it could easily be another 6 months before one came. Villagers in all these outer islands see visiting yachts as supply vessels and their crew as technicians who might be able to repair anything from an old flashlight to a broken solar yard light.

One more native paddled his outrigger canoe and cozied up alongside our anchored boat. He needed 3 D-size batteries. Even if he was willing to pay us for the batteries, his Vatu money would be useless to us in island nations we would be soon visiting to the north. We already had all the coconuts, yams, taro and cassava we needed to cross two oceans. We could use eggs. "Give us 6 eggs for 1 battery."

Islanders throughout the Pacific have little use for chicken eggs. It is an American custom to scramble or hard boil eggs. When asking a villager if they eat eggs, they generally say "No, I wouldn't know where to find eggs. The chicken does not tell me where she hid them." But we do often trade for chicken eggs sending a villager on an egg hunt. We have always received what we expected, although not as many as we needed.

So when we spread the contents of the sack, we realized we, in this remote village, were presumptuous to narrowly think chicken eggs. The variation in size, shape and color made us wonder if the assortment included crocodile, turtle and who knows what sorts of eggs. Nor were we specific in dictating the lack of incubation. But we gave the man 3 new batteries to put in the flashlight I had repaired for another villager the previous day.

To avoid an unpleasant surprise package, we could not simply hard boil the eggs or crack them into a common bowl. In the end, we did have our omelets. Yet, not having on board a Bass-O-Matic, half of those opened eggs, which had a range of colors, textures and definable hardnesses, were tossed into the ocean.

Much of our food that sailed us across the Pacific has come from villagers. But this egg trade will always be in our memories as one more adventure in the Pacific.