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My head is full of streams of thoughts about the disappearing island life and cultural genocides. I slowly fade into a deep, dreamful sleep. Responsibility and powerlessness fight their endless game.

Slowly the wind is picking up and everyone starts making breakfast of course. As our sails and steering dont break anymore, I feel we are slowly arriving in proper sailing mode. Cruising, reading, working the boat, eating and sleeping. Kat makes oats with dates,...

On the first day of the new year I find myself sitting on a beautiful dead tree in front of a 120m high waterfall that celebrates a new beginning with me. I feel. I understand.

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On a sunny morning the community of Bravet kill a big, white cow to sell the meat. Very colourful meat.

Since centuries christian missionaries are traveling to the most rural places in the world to convert heathens into tamely believers. What legacy do 500 years of proselytisation leave behind? A two-part experience on a small island in the South Pacific. Part One.

Violence, the raw physical force intended to hurt or kill a person or an animal is committed daily, endless times around the world. The cycle of hurt and anger spins and spins. But why do we hurt others? And how can we stop it from spinning?

Every night the people of Vanuatu indulge in a ritual, they give themselves into the hands of a numbing root that grows up in the mountainous regions. Silently they drink the grey juice and connect with the sprits of the bush, their ancestors.

Enough with goodness and niceness and everything sweet give me salt, give me ash, give me sand in my teeth dirt on my feet blood on my tongue life in my meat.