So the last couple weeks went something like this. It's customary for most Peace Corps Volunteers to get a "Last Kaekae," with their village before they leave, where every kind of laplap is prepared and a couple village animals are devoured. But because my village finds it difficult to do things together, as a community, due to the previously mentioned fued (which I found all about- details to come), I had various small but intimate last kaekaes. At each kaekae I desperately wanted to tell them how much I appreciated their warm hospitality throughout the last year, but chickened out cause I knew I'd start crying and I HATE crying. I hate doing it in public to begin with, but running the risk of getting a room full of Ni-Vans crying solely as a customary response to my tears was too much. Cause when they cry, they WAIL! Loudly. So to avoid this, I didn't cry and completely avoided the topic of my imminent departure, even up to the actual departure. Strange tactic I guess, but we all have different ways of dealing with the stress of change. Beyond avoiding the topic of my departure, I also cleaned like a mad woman to avoid thinking about it. It worked- but how could it not. You should see my place- its Better Homes & Gardens material for sure. My yams have just started climbing their bamboo poles to a big shade tree and my tomatoe, bean, and bell pepper plants are all producing fruit and growing nicely. I planted some green onion and a pineapple. My pumpkin looks like it might actually produce some edible fruit after 3 months of trying. Oh, and papayas and island cabbage too! Chances are the cows have already stomped all over it and destroyed everything, but it was something to do and if it does beat the odds it'll be a nice start for the next volunteer.

 I also started getting a bad case of lice as I was leaving. You'd think this would be a bad thing, but it turned out to be a good thing. First of all, it couldn't get that bad since I don't wash my hair providing an oily environment that lice have a hard time surviving in. Second of all, having lice, means free head rubs and living in such a non-affectionate culture as this one for the last two years has left me more than starved for affection. STARVED! It's ridiculous. Any kind of touch feels good. Standing close to someone at church becomes exciting. All those kids that want to touch your "white-man" hair no longer annoy me. So hence the harboring of head lice. As soon as a mama finds out you have head lice, she gets to work. Head down, and both her hands start combing through your hair in an ardent search for these very small black eggs. And they'll work for hours, until they're convinced they've found every egg. If they didn't talk at the same time, I'd definitely fall asleep during their searches.

 I know what you're thinking. I was there. But spend two years here, and I swear you're ideas of what's disgusting or unsanitary completely changes.

 What else. Ah, the fued. So apparently once upon a time there was a land dispute (land disputes are as common in Vanuatu as divorces are in the States). Well not quiet a land dispute but it had to do with people using land/resources in a way that they shouldn't have. Everyone met at the Nakamal (chief's meeting house) to "settle" things. Because this particular land dispute involved someone re-directing water that would normally go to the village, as if it was his own, there were many upset villagers-mamas and papas. At one point things got pretty heated and one younger man decided it would be best to start brawling, however it's not exactly the best idea to start swinging at the chief in HIS nakamal. Kinda taboo. At that point the chief stood up and officially resigned as chief to all men residing in the village, and therefore came chief exclusively to "narasaed" where only his family and close relatives reside. One side of the village, which is on the other side of the river, is called narasaed (the other side) while the rest of the village is just labeled the village. So now, in a village of 200 people there are two chiefs- Chief blong Narasaed and Chief blong Village. And for the most part it really is like having two villages that are really close together. There are two different kindergartens. And two different community halls- a stones throw away from one another. The two sides rarely work together, but I wouldn't say their particularly hostile- or even at all. There's just a very prominent divide. They always support each other's fundraisers, but then again I can't imagine there's any feud big enough or awkward enough that would compromise their nightly appetite for kava and socializing. So that's that.

 Naoia, I'm in Vila with the Lupster. For those of you that didn't know, I'm bringing my dog home. The thought of leaving him behind to potentially be roasted by the numerous villagers who would prefer my dog didn't constantly chase their chickens and eat eggs, I couldn't bare. He's provided way too many good memories and been an excellent companion, so yes, I will be paying a ridiculous sum of money to get this four legged friend home. Lucky for me, the Peace Corps Vila staff has been very accommodating. They allow him to come inside our facilities and for the most part don't seem all that offended that he's napping on the lounge couches. It's just the Ni-Vanuatu staff that I know think I'm nuts. My dog will try to go greet them with his typical sniffing of their pants and occasional lick and they just shuffle away in disgust and wonder.

 Alright, my hour on the computer is up. I'll write more later.