Strange Brew

Walking down a dusty track I start to glimpse the wood and tin hut nestled between the bushes and trees high on the hillside above Port Vila. Entering the hut, my eyes begin to adjust to the change in environment, there is a counter, behind which a large dark lady stands stirring a large tin cauldron, blue rubber gloves providing protection from her noxious concoction.
Approaching the counter, the lady raises her head from the task at hand to reveal eyes that neither look at you or through you, they are just there, paired, dark and distant, cholesterol rings only highlight the darkness within. 100vatu (75p) buys you 2 ladles of her potion in a small plastic bowl.

Vanuatu Kava differs from the kava of other Melanesian islands in two distinct ways, the lack of ceremony and the presence of strength.
My companion for this experience advises me not to drink the concoction at the counter, as the possibility of vomiting or at least needing to spit is considered poor etiquette and rude to your host, which is understandable.
As the ladles are emptied into the bowl, an indescribable smell wafts through the evening air, it’s acrid enough to hit the back of the throat, it fills the nasal cavity and only acts as a mild warning to the taste buds of the assault they are about to experience. We retreat outside, bowls in hand and stand around a cinder dust pit, the reason for it’s presence is about to be revealed. The only way to consume this fowl smelling concoction is in one hit, if it’s not down in one, you will be unable to raise the bowl to you lips for a second time.
Jaw muscles tighten and eyes narrow in anticipation, the brew is raised to ones lips and I mistakenly of take a sniff, imagine over boiled brussel sprouts mixed with compost heap and litter tray and you’re halfway there.

Mouth open, head back and the deed is done. Within seconds the saliva comes, filling ones mouth and swilling the gritty green sludge into all corners, introducing each taste bud to this new, most fowl of experiences. The smell does not betray the peppery nature of the drink, nor does it hint at the approaching numbness the invades the lips, tongue and throat. I spit out a mouthful of saliva and sludge, and return to the counter to buy a warm beer to wash away the taste.
We settle at a ramshackle table to sip our beers and enjoy the view, within minutes the numbness starts to fade but the taste will remain etched in the memory for days. Halfway through the beer a strange ‘weightlessness of mind’ descends, an enjoyable and foggy buzz resonates around my head, everything is nice, everything is funny, the sunset mesmerising but there is no lack of control or loss of decision making for a single second.

It’s like floating on a cloud, but the cloud has got breaks, a steering wheel and a seat belt, it’s just up to you if you decide to use them or not.

I steer my cloud back to the hut and buy another bowl full……..I love my cloud………..