Mangroves and Cheeky Kids: A very short trip to Port Sandwich, Malekula
After a quick two-night stop at Epi Island and a brutal 5 a.m. start, we headed to Malekula Island, specifically Port Sandwich. Malekula, also known as the “Dog-shaped Island,” is apparently famous for its bananas. Every island in Vanuatu has its claim to fame with a different fruit or vegetable, and for Malekula, it’s bananas. It’s also a French-speaking island, which adds a certain “je ne sais quoi” to the banana-eating population.
We felt lucky and tried again to catch dinner on the way, but once again, luck wasn’t on our side. Just before giving up, though, we were treated to a dolphin show, with a whole pod playing around the boat. One of them leapt up, did a spin, and probably had a good laugh at our fishing attempts. They stayed with us for a while, and no matter how many times you see dolphins, it never gets old watching them play.
Port Sandwich gave us nice shelter, but swimming was strictly off the agenda due to the sharks. There was a meat-packing business here back in the ’70s and ’80s, and ever since then, sharks have called it home—and, supposedly, they’ve acquired a taste for humans too. So, I skipped the “refreshing” (if 28°C water even counts as refreshing) dive bomb (in German ass bomb which makes complete sense!). While the rest of the crew took off to explore the island the next morning, we had to stay back to clean rust off the boat—a never-ending task on a steel vessel.
In the afternoon, we all explored a mangrove channel up a river, which can only be done at high tide. On our way back, we saw a boatload of locals being dropped off by a taxi boat, heading to their gardens. When we asked if we could join, they laughed and said it was a two-hour trek and “too hard” for us, but suggested we try the next village instead. So, we trudged through the muddy terrain (thanks, rain) to reach it. The village sat right on the river, with houses on small stilts as it often floods. Most of the villagers had already relocated to higher ground. On the way back, we spotted an old man peeling long bamboo sticks. He was 94 years old, happy as anything, and blissfully unbothered by our presence. His family came out to chat with us, though the youngest wasn’t so keen and burst into tears at the sight of us.
The next day, we were finally able to make a quick trip to the mainland with some colouring pencils and pencil cases with built-in sharpeners to hand out to kids. Just as we started walking, two little cuties approached and handed us some mandarins as a gift. Shortly after, a little boy appeared and asked if we needed a tour guide. We politely declined, so he disappeared into the bushes and reappeared with some scruffy-looking pomelos. Thinking we were in for another fruit gift, we accepted, only for him to hold out his hand and ask for 500 Vatu (around 7$NZD)! Gobsmacked, one of the crew members forked over the money, and we were left laughing. Continuing to the school, kids greeted us like celebrities, with the usual friendly smiles. But soon, they started asking for money—just “money, money, money” from every direction. It did dampen things a bit, as it seems they’re becoming a bit too accustomed to handouts. Our little businessman was clearly setting a trend.
Since school was still in session, we decided not to roam around the grounds and headed back. On the way, I spotted a tiny puppy sitting by itself while kids raced around, paying no mind. I tried asking where its mum was, but the kids just looked at me as if I was the odd one for caring. Meanwhile, as school let out, we suddenly had a mini-army of kids following us, trying to chat. Mark’s limited French helped us exchange names, and we started teaching each other words in English and French. Soon, we felt like the Pied Piper, as kids kept joining until we could barely keep count. When we took selfies, the kids burst out laughing—and later, I found out why. They’d been pulling universal hand signs behind us in some shots. Cheeky lot!
On the way back, we bumped into our entrepreneurial little friend again, this time armed with three oranges. When we declined, he chucked them aside with dramatic flair, much to the other kids’ amusement. Back at the dinghy, with only a few kids left, we took out the pencils. But within seconds, the oldest one nabbed them all. We tried explaining they were to be shared, and he eventually got the memo, doling out one or two from each case while keeping the lion’s share for himself. Not quite the distribution plan we had in mind, but the little girls who got a couple of pencils seemed thrilled. They stayed with us until we were picked up, clutching their new treasures while waving good bye.
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