What We Pass Down

Recently our neighbor cut down a tree out in his fields.  It was a large breadfruit tree, at least 2ft in diameter—a hard wood, that has a bright yellow color inside.  What did he do with it?  As you may have guessed, much of it went for firewood—not for heating a home but for cooking.  Even here in the city, although many homes have cooking stoves powered by gas or kerosene, many still prefer to cook over an open flame (especially as gas prices have risen).   

The beginning sections of trunk

The whole tree was useful. The branches would be used for cooking.  The large lush green leaves would be much enjoyed by cows and goats, as animal feed.  But the trunk had a special purpose.  The trunk was cut into sections, about 2-3 feet high and put in our courtyard.

The next day the artisan arrived, his only tools a long machete and an adze.  He quickly went to work on one of the sections of trunk.  Wood chips started to fly, all the way up to our second floor veranda.  As he turned the wood, chopped with his machete, and scooped with his adze, a shape took form.  He was making a shino, a large wooden mortar used for crushing and pounding—especially the cassava leaves used in the national dish.  As we watched him work we were impressed by how hard the wood was, but also with how quickly he could make one.  By the end of a day he had finished.  A shino goes for about a hundred dollars—on the islands, that’s not bad for a day’s work. He came back day after day, the tree ultimately producing 6 or 7 more shinos.

The man making the shino was not young and he had no apprentice with him.  Megan asked if he was training anyone else to do it.  The neighbors didn’t think so. His kids would go to school, they wouldn’t sit and learn his craft.  Who would make shinos after he was gone? The neighbors didn’t know and paid lip service to the fact that he needed to teach someone, but none of them is going to volunteer their kids to be his apprentice.  Could this become another lost art?  Perhaps someday.

Shino taking shape

What gets passed down to the next generation?  What is worth passing onto our children and what are the things they no longer need?  In island school, children still learn to write in cursive (something we’ve heard has been dropped in a lot of US schools). Is such a skill really necessary, when messages are more often written with thumbs on a phone these days than with a pen?  Islanders are careful to pass onto their children the art of recitation.  At our teammates house a little school sits next door where every day children come to memorize long chapters of Arabic verses, the meaning of which they don’t understand, but which will be important for ceremonial events, from weddings to burials and everything in between.  Chanting is an expected part of island culture and carefully passed down to each generation.

Part of me hears their chanting of words they don’t understand and feels exasperated at the uselessness of it all.  But what we pass down, shows what is important to us and what we value!  We wonder at our own culture.  What are we passing on with gusto and what are we failing to share with equal care?  Whether intentionally or not, we often pass on to others the things that are important to us.

We may claim somethings as essential to our life, but if we fail to pass it onto others, another reality is revealed.  Meanwhile, things we claim to be of little importance, we carefully reinforce through our ardent love for them.  What do we truly value?  What are we passing on? Perhaps the artisan who makes such fine shinos takes no pride in his work?  Perhaps he just sees it as something to make a buck.  Or perhaps he doesn’t want to teach others—perhaps he does not want competition.  Perhaps again, he simply hasn’t thought about it, and if an apprentice came along, he would be happy to teach him.  

The reality is that if we know something that is important, we should be teaching it to someone else. If we aren’t passing it down, then we are ultimately making it unimportant.

PRAYERS ANSWERED
A truly big shipment of rice finally came to Clove Island! Other shipments have been small and unsatisfying, but with this one, everyone that we know has found a sack of rice (even us) and we see stacks of them in shops again. What a relief! The women’s gathering went well and was well attended. Our daughter continues to do well at boarding school and had a great midterm break.

PRAYERS REQUESTED
Rice has come but there are still shortages of several other things— the one we are feeling the most is the flour shortage, which means we can’t find bread. Pray that flour would come soon! Pray for the continuing rise in crime here— people say the youth being deported from the French Island are bringing their lives of crime back with them and don’t know any shame. One of our island friends was beaten up by some of these youth while she was out in the fields. Pray for her healing and for her husband to take good care of her. Pray for Dimi’s kids as he is traveling for the first time off island since their mother died. One local brother lost his father this past week and we go as a group tomorrow to give our condolences. Pray that we could be an encouragement to him and also pray that Uhaju might be able to join us and start to be more connected with the community.