Friday 16^th December

Back (briefly) in Tasmania, safe in the bosom of our families…

I still have a few sailing the South Pacific stories…

Panapompom

When we were cruising around the beautiful Louisiades, Rachel and I were very taken with the sound of an island we could see on the map – Panapompom.  How cute is that for a name!  It wasn’t on our route, and we were a bit sad not to go somewhere so whimsical and magical.

On our last evening in the bay at Bagaman Island, we had a visit from Sam, one of our passengers to and from Bugoiya.  Sam, probably the oldest of our crew, had been very reticent and circumspect on the trip, but on our last day, he came to visit, bearing gifts – tomatoes and a pawpaw – and sat on deck drinking a very sweet hot chocolate drink.  He was very happy and entertained Rachel and me with his wordplay jokes.  “What letters are there in the moon?” he asked, eyes bright.  We did all the usual things – “M-O-O-N?”  “T-H-E-M-O-O-N?” and let him come to his punchline – “C-O-D!  You have to look at the moon all though the month, and you will see those letters!”  He was so very pleased with himself; he reminded me very much of my “granny” Angus aged 9; this is just the sort of joke he would invent.  It was actually very clever of Sam; he has hardly had any schooling, but he can make spelling jokes in English.

We decided to ask him about Panapompom – what did this name mean?  “Oh,” he said, looking a bit grim.  “Panapompom is the name of a disease you get, where your legs swell up.”  (Elephantiasis, I reckon.)  “You get this disease,” he continued, “when you have been lying to your wife about having sex with another woman.  This is very common, on that island.” 

Oh.  So much for the romance of Panapompom!!

It was Sam who, later, let slip the common name for white people in the Louisiades.  We had never heard it; they would usually say, “Europeans,” or “your wantoks.”  But Sam let the cat out of the bag.  He was talking about carvings – he does very beautiful ones.  We asked if they were used for traditional purposes and he said, dismissively, “Oh no, they are just for selling to Dim-Dims.  Rachel and I turned questioning eyes on him: “To whom??” and he looked a bit sheepish.  “Um…you know…white people.  Dim-Dims.”  Somehow I don’t think it is a flattering epithet…