13.8443° S, 167.4472° E

Recommended Soundtrack: "Nikaura" by Dokowia

Slightly north of the Coral Sea lies a verdant island, cradled by reefs. To be precise 13.8443° S, 167.4472° E. Vanua Lava, part of the Vanuatu archipelago, is a place where nature dances in the flow of the coconut trees and rhythm of the unpredictable sea.

It is a canvas painted with stories, inspired and coloured by the movement of the water and its consequential low pressure systems.

Waterfalls are all around, screaming and calling for the youthful water music. They hide within the jungle and they partner to the outer skirts of the island, greeting passengers as they slump directly on salt water.

Let's shift our gaze to a human narrative, one that unfolds on the canvas of Vanua Lava. Picture a Sunday morning, heavy with the scent of rain and the mischievous strike of heavy wind. The storyteller, stranded on this tropical haven, awakens to tears, knowing that the flight that was to carry them away is now just a distant dream.

As the heavens weep, the storyteller does too, unapologetically streaking down the street for help and to be helpful. The island, cloaked in uncertainty, resonates with an energy that hints at the impending chaos. Cyclones, the dance of Iansã, the goddess of the storm, loom in the air, and the storyteller, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, seeks refuge.

The village becomes one in preparation, a symphony of makeshift defences against the approaching tempest. At times she felt like she was on the cicada side of the tale, but she decided to trust the milliner knowledge and embrace on the protection of the fishing nets. Fresh coconut leaves shielded our dry coconut leaves homes, and the air held that Sunday suspended time energy. The sound of traditional music promised both destruction and renewal.

As the winds continued to pick up strength for its howling breath, a kava circle forms, an attempt to unwind within the storm. Amidst the chaos, a wise companion shares a lesson: let it flow, and wait. The island teaches patience, acceptance, and the understanding that what is meant to be will find its way. The storm, both metaphorical and meteorological, becomes a teacher, a force guiding the storyteller through the uncertainties of life. The low pressure system lingers over Vanua Lava, casting a shadow of anticipation. In the quietude of the storm, she thinks of her storm goddess Iansã, and what the hell she is hoping that she learns. The island, with its lush landscapes sees nothing but turbulent skies for a couple of days. But the beauty of the unseen greets them as the whirlwind supreme decided to take a u-turn and head to another direction. It had already created a narrative that transcends the ordinary.

Vanua Lava is second largest island of the Banks Islands, it is part of the Torba Province. According to their chief, the regions needs are only met with neglect. If you have the chance to visit Sola, you will meet a community that knows not the meaning of such word. Through meteorological and personal storms, my new found family and friends took me with care, and together rebuilding was effortless.

With its mountains and ever-changing colourful skies, Vanua Lava whispers stories of resilience, faith on friendship, and dances between chaos and serenity. In the embrace of a cyclone, the island reveals secrets, and the storyteller becomes a vessel for the messages carried by the wind (hopefully worthy). In the end, the village was a testament to new and old practices concerning humanity and nature, converging in rethinking our methods to care for our shared environment. They said the water ripples because it mirrors ever-changing truths. As the ocean moves, so must our practices to recover balance of nature in our hands.