{"id":1041,"date":"2015-05-28T22:07:27","date_gmt":"2015-05-28T22:07:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/scriptorum.imagicity.com\/?p=1041"},"modified":"2015-05-28T22:07:27","modified_gmt":"2015-05-28T22:07:27","slug":"on-becoming-happy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/village-explainer.kabisan.com\/index.php\/2015\/05\/28\/on-becoming-happy\/","title":{"rendered":"On be(com)ing happy"},"content":{"rendered":"

Originally published on the Pacific Policy blog<\/em><\/small><\/p>\n

Yesterday, during an interview for a documentary film about climate change, I was asked how Vanuatu came to be known as the Happiest Country in the World. On the face of it, the title is quite apt. Wherever you go in Vanuatu, you will find smiling faces, warm welcomes and open hearts.<\/p>\n

Even in the aftermath of cyclone Pam, which directly affected half the population and badly damaged dozens of their islands, Ni Vanuatu people still managed to smile and laugh. I confess that even after a decade living here, I found it astonishing that people would show such grace in the face of adversity.<\/p>\n

In the badly affected Malapoa Waetwud neighbourhood, a man calmly described how he and his family would live off fallen fruit for a few days, then they\u2019d dig up whatever hadn\u2019t rotted in the ground; but after that, he wasn\u2019t sure where the next meal was going to come from. On the southern island of Tanna, which was utterly devastated by 230 Kph winds, I sat with a group of mamas in the shade of the only remaining tree trunk in that part of the village, and we laughed and gently teased each other as we passed the time.<\/p>\n

And it\u2019s not that they were oblivious. On the contrary. Only half an hour earlier a village elder came up to me, looked me in the eye and spoke with brutal simplicity: \u2018I nogat wan samting.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018There\u2019s nothing left.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n

It took me days\u2014weeks to be honest\u2014to understand how people could remain light-hearted in the face of the loss of everything of value in their lives.<\/p>\n

The penny began to drop when I visited Cildo (pronounced SEEL-doe) and his parents in Erangorango, in the foothills overlooking Port Vila. Cildo is a sturdy, plain-spoken, twelve-year-old boy originally from Malekula. His family home had been utterly destroyed by a massive tree which fell at the height of the storm, injuring his father and barely missing Cildo and his mother. I interviewed him for UNICEF, as part of a series of videos taking stock of the effect of the storm on children in Vanuatu.<\/p>\n