Lost in Ambrym

Rom Dances, Black Magic, Costumes, and Sand Drawing: A Unique Adventure in Ambrym

When we left Port Vila, we only withdrew enough money to do the land diving in Pentecost. Beyond that, the plan was simple: enjoy the scenery and hope not to run out of biscuits. Vanuatu’s prices have been creeping up, partly thanks to Chinese tourists who seem happy to fork out for anything, no matter the cost. Shortly after we set off from Port Sandwich, we received a message that a flotilla of Pacific Rally boats was sailing to Ambrym to see a traditional Rom Dance. They’d managed to negotiate a decent price for it we jumped on the bandwagon (or should I say, the “water-wagon?”) and set course for Ambrym.

After counting our Vatu on board, our crew kindly lent us some extra cash for the experience. The next ATM wasn’t until Santo, Vanuatu’s second-largest island, and unless I planned to barter with biscuits, we needed the help. We arrived the afternoon before the event and were warmly welcomed by the rally boats. Although MV Strannik isn’t officially part of the rally, Mark and I have crew memberships to find crew opportunities and that’s how we knew about the event.

Early the next morning, we went ashore to start the tour. The group split into two: the “lazy but dry” team took a transporter up to the kastom village of Fanla, while the rest of us opted for the 45-minute walk. Living aboard a boat means you seize any opportunity to stretch your legs, even if it’s rainy and muddy.

When we reached the village, the chief greeted us warmly and showed us around. We marvelled at a massive banyan tree with a natural cave, visited the grave of the chief who met James Cook, and heard the story behind the island’s name. Apparently, when the chief handed Cook a yam as a peace offering, he said, “Am Rym” (meaning “your yam”). Cook misunderstood, probably thinking it was the island’s name, and voilà—Ambrym it was. Classic colonial confusion.

Finally, we saw the sacred Rom Dance, a spectacle of magic, harvest celebration, and status climbing. If a man wants to move up the village ranks, he has to buy a mask design from someone who owns it, paying in cash and pigs (the original NFT, really). The nakamal (clubhouse) is declared taboo while the buyer learns the rules, prepares and practices for days. The dancers’ banana-fibre costumes and masks are crafted in secrecy, and only men who’ve paid to enter the nakamal are allowed to witness it. Anyone caught sneaking a peek gets fined and possibly whipped. Finally, there will be a feast the day before the performance. After the performance, the costumes are burned to ensure the dance’s spirit doesn’t linger and start causing mischief in the village.

After the dance, we were treated to refreshments served on banana leaves. While we waited for the next events, we mingled with other sailors. Sailors’ stories are always fascinating—part travel inspiration, part cautionary tales.

Next we watched sand drawings which is listed as an Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO. These drawings are produced directly on the ground, in sand, volcanic ash or clay. Using one finger, the drawer traces a continuous meandering line on an imagined grid to produce a graceful, often symmetrical, composition of geometric patterns. The drawings also function as reminder to record and transmit rituals, mythological tradition and a wealth of oral information about local histories, cosmologies, affiliation systems, song cycles, farming techniques, architectural and craft design, and choreographic patterns.

Then came the magic show by the man blong blak majik (black magic man). While we weren’t literally blown off our socks, it was impressive enough to have us clapping like caffeinated seals. We finished the day browsing tam-tams (giant carved heads) made from tree trunks. They were stunning, and had I not been skint, I’d probably have lugged one small one back to the boat.

The day wrapped up with kava, the traditional Pacific drink. Having lived with Fijians, I’ve had more kava than I can remember, and let me tell you, it’s an acquired taste I’ve yet to acquire. Supposedly, Vanuatu’s kava is stronger and less muddy tasting than Fiji’s, but I wasn’t brave enough to confirm. It rained nonstop all day, so our walk back turned into a mudslide adventure.

If you haven’t already, check out the video below for more from our visit to Ambrym: