The Lost Wallet and the Vision
Saturday, November 5th, 2005
I never did find out where I lost my wallet. It was our second day in Banam Bay, a beautiful and very traditional thatch and bamboo Vanuatu village surrounded by forest on the island of Malekula. I’d packed my bag and gone ashore, ready for a day of snorkeling and lying around on the beach. Chief Saitol (the most energetic and spry 87 year old I have ever met) had planned for the Picton Castle crew a grand performance of Kastom (custom) dancing and a Kava party complete with a string band for later that night. We were told we might need money (Vatu is Vanuatu’s currency; 107 Vatu is equal to 1 US dollar) to make a donation to the dancers, so I’d thrown my wallet into my bag without a second thought. It was a great day ashore! Chief Saitol and the villagers rolled out the red carpet for the Picton Castle crew. The dancing was amazing, and the party was a blast!
I was scheduled for watch aboard the ship the following day. The next morning at the on-duty watch muster, Greg (Second Mate) mentioned they were collecting donations for a feast on the beach that afternoon. I went to my bag to grab some money. No wallet. I searched my bunk. No wallet. My sea chest. Still no wallet. I quickly came to the awful conclusion that my wallet, and all it contained, was not on board the ship. At one point, Sam, the Chief Mate, asked me what the heck I’d been doing for the last half hour. I told her I’d been searching for my wallet, and I thought it was lost on the island. Dave M. (trainee, UK), overhearing the conversation, asked “Why did you bring your wallet ashore?” Another helpful shipmate piped up, “Yeah, I needed my ID twice yesterday.” Ha, Ha. Banam Bay didn’t exactly have an ATM. Truth was, it had never occurred to me not to bring it. Yet another valuable traveling lesson learned!
Being stuck on board until the feast, there wasn’t much I could do about my wayward wallet, so I tried to concentrate on the ship’s work we were carrying out onboard that hot morning. It didn’t work. Finally the on-watch was permitted to go ashore for a few precious hours to participate in trading with the villagers and to attend the traditional feast that was prepared for our crew and for the crew of the Brigantine SOREN LARSON, which had joined us at anchor overnight. As much as I was caught up in all the excitement, I’d not forgotten my mission to find my wallet. I checked the spot on the beach where Andrea (trainee, USA) and I had purchased some shells the previous day, but no luck. I followed the rest of the crew into the village. I wanted to search the grounds where we had seen the dancing the night before, but sensitive to the various taboos in Vanuatu society, I didn’t want to go traipsing around what was obviously an important place in the village. I would need permission to do so.
As luck would have it, I ran into my friend Charo. He’d shown me around Banam Bay my first day ashore. We had hung out together the entire day, and he was very good at explaining the details of their society that were completely foreign to me. He effortlessly scampered up a coconut palm to retrieve coconuts for us to drink and he answered all of my questions in perfect English. I told him about my missing wallet and asked if we could check out the grounds. He told me that we ought to pay a visit to Chief Saitol instead. When we arrived, Chief Saitol was sitting under the covered gathering area where we’d had the party the night before. He was chatting with our Captain as well as some village elders. When Charo told him of my predicament, he looked quite concerned, as did the others. They spoke among themselves in their island’s unique Melanesian language. (The Vanuatu island groups boast more than 100 Melanesian languages that are specific to the different villages and islands. Islands, even valleys, that are in close proximity to one another cannot communicate in their own Melanesian languages, but instead have to use the Nation of Vanuatu’s lingua franca, Bislama). I don’t know what they said, but the message was clear: “Dude, that sucks.”
Curious what the interruption was about, Captain Moreland asked what Charo and I were up to. I told him I’d lost my wallet. He replied, “Well, at least you know no one’s going to take it.” That was true. If I had to lose my wallet, this was about the best place in the world to do it!
Chief Saitol then excused himself from his guests, apparently to help me find my wallet personally! As we walked back toward the beach where the crew and the villagers were engrossed in trading, I figured we’d go asking around after my wallet. Not quite. Charo told me that we were going to see a woman they went to when they lost things. Apparently she had visions and could help find my lost wallet. Okay, I thought, I’ll indulge them a while. We found the woman among the people who were trading, and the four of us went to one of the houses nearest the beach. After shooing away the children who were curiously milling about, we sat down and Charo explained the situation to her. They were all taking this very seriously. I figured I’d better take it seriously, too. They talked back and forth for a while. I watched intently, unable to understand the conversation. Charo touched my arm and put his hands together: We were going to pray. I bowed my head and closed my eyes, listening to the lengthy prayer and envisioning my poor lost wallet in my mind. Maybe it would help. The only words I understood were “Jesus Christ.” After the prayer, they talked again briefly and then stood up. The meeting was over.
As we left the house, Charo explained to me what had just taken place. The woman had seen my wallet in a vision. Apparently it had fallen out of my backpack and someone had picked it up. It was dark, however, so she couldn’t see exactly who it was. We were to wait, and that person would be compelled to return the wallet. I was a little nervous at this point.
“So, we just sit here and wait and someone will bring me my wallet?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied matter-of-factly.
I was unsure what to do. Part of me wanted to believe in her vision and the prediction that my lost wallet would appear; part of me wanted to retrace my steps and scour the island looking for it. I asked Charo if it might be helpful to go around and ask people if they had seen my wallet.
He calmly said, “No. Just wait here.”
I remember thinking to myself: I’ve always been told to just trust in God and everything would be okay. I didn’t know what else to do, so I figured I’d just trust their faith and confidence. I went over and sat down with some of my fellow crew members, feeling anxious and somehow hopeful. I told myself that everything would be cool, but all I could think about was how I would replace all the contents of my wallet. It would be difficult enough if I were back home, but out here, traveling in the South Pacific, it would be impossible. I looked down at my watch. I had little time left before I had to return on the skiff to turn to for duty on the ship. I couldn’t just sit there. I remembered one more place I hadn’t checked and was just about to get up to go look. Then a woman approached me from behind.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Did you lose something? A wallet?”
“Yes!” I said, surprised.
“My sister’s son found it on the ground and brought it home. Come, I’ll show you.” We went over to where a young woman was standing, my wallet in her hands. As she handed me the wallet, a small crowd gathered. Apparently word of my loss had spread. I checked through the wallet. Everything was there. It had been sorted through, but the 9,000 Vatu cash was still there, as well as everything but my credit card. When I told her this, a few words sent her red-faced son sprinting back to the house to get it. Maybe it was a souvenir, or perhaps it simply didn’t make it back into the wallet with the other stuff. No matter; he couldn’t have used it here anyway. I pulled out 2,000 Vatu (about $24 Canadian) and handed it to him, thanking him profusely. I thanked his mother and her sister, who had approached me in the first place, and walked back toward the beach where the feast was about to take place. I sat down on the woven palm mats, relieved and contented, and enjoyed our delicious feast with my wallet tucked safely in my backpack.
I suddenly realized what had happened: The vision, the prediction — it was all true!
Now, I could propose that she made it all up and that my wallet was returned to me regardless of what she said, but I prefer to believe. I prefer to think that here in Banam Bay — a place where modern science meets ancient tradition — that an elderly chief, a village seer, and a newfound friend helped me find a couple of things that I was sure I’d lost: my wallet and my faith.