In the village of Waterfall, Pentecost—where the mountains fold into deep green valleys, and the river carries its cool breath to the sea—there is a small kitchen with no electricity, no polished countertops, and no fancy utensils. But it has something rarer: the unwavering will of a woman named Jocelyn Matan.

Jocelyn was born in Ranmawad, raised by a family and community that taught her to stand firm in the face of challenges. She married a man from Waterfall, where she built her home and cultivated her dreams, one small step at a time. She never studied business or attended culinary school. But as the years went by she developed something far more powerful: instinct, grit, and a natural talent for flavour and cooking.

Even as she pursued that passion, life, continued to throw challenges her way. Recently, she lost her husband—suddenly, without warning—most likely she believes he had a heart attack. On Pentecost Island, where there is barely basic medical care; the questions of how he died linger, unanswered. Yet, in that obliviousness, Jocelyn keeps moving forward. She keeps cooking. She keeps building. Because survival, for her, has always meant staying in motion.

She didn’t start as an entrepreneur. That journey began in the kitchen of the Chinese contractor camp that built the Pentecost road—four long years of stirring, chopping, cleaning, learning. And when that ended, she took what she had—her hands, her skills, and her courage—and started cooking takeaway food from her own home.

At first, she charged 250 vatu – about US $2 - for a plate of food. But the meat prices were too high, and she quickly realised her business would not survive. She raised it to 300 vatu—a small adjustment, but also an important act of self-value. Now she sells about 20 plates a day, depending on demand, mostly to guesthouse visitors, boys from the community, taxi drivers, and nearby families.

She cooks in the mornings and evenings. People call or message; she books the orders. On Sundays she tries to rest—tries, because if someone asks, she always gets up and cooks.

Her cooking has become so famous around Waterfall that whenever a training or workshop happens, she is called to do the catering. To cater for large events, she brings her sister-in-law, Jarolyn Mabu, to help. Two women, two fires, pots simmering, rice steaming, laughter rising along with the smoke.

Her dishes are simple but full of soul: beef, chicken, river lobster, fish when she can find it—especially tuna, expensive but worth it for the flavour and higher profit. Beef she buys when local farmers butcher a cow, or sometimes she orders from the town of Santo. Chicken brings little profit, but people love it.

And then there is laplap—her signature dish.

When I last visited Jocelyn’s home, the menu she cooked was unforgettable: Naviso laplap taro with coconut milk, that was velvety and fragrant; and Nauru lo freswota—river lobster in rich coconut milk, a Pentecost delicacy. It was a feast. A quiet revelation of a woman who cooks not with recipes but with memory, culture, and intuition.

Her yard, in Waterfall, is famous—full of Manki banana trees, their leaves perfect for wrapping laplap, their bananas sweeter than anything from the market.  And she cooks along with the seasons. 

“This time,” she said, “it’s crab season.” She explained how the river lobster is available all year, how February is the month when crabs go missing because they lay eggs. But cooking too has its own challenges. 

The firewood she uses each day burns slow, smoky, and leaves her tired at the end of the day. Gas is expensive. Meat spoils quickly. There are limits to what she can store, what she can offer, and how much she can grow.
Still—her eyes light up when she talks about the future.

Soon, the UNDP’s Vanuatu Green Energy Transformation Project (VGET) will bring 24/7 green electricity for the first time, to Waterfall. VGET is part of UNDP’s regional Pacific Green Transformation Project and funded by the Government of Japan.

She speaks of it as though it were the dawn waiting to rise behind a ridge. A freezer is the first thing she dreams of—she can almost see it standing in her kitchen, keeping meat fresh, expanding her business, stabilizing her income. After that, an oven. Maybe later an electric stove for certain dishes. And one day, larger catering orders, more guests, maybe even a bigger kitchen.

During the Leadership Training and the Green Skills Workshop the VGET project organized, Jocelyn was the heartbeat of the Waterfall group. She helped design a business plan for a women’s cooperative— and a guesthouse and food service for visitors. Their plan received a special mention. Of course it did. Her energy pulls others along.
She even hosts students—charging 500 vatu per night. Slowly, steadily, she is building something lasting.
Jocelyn Matan is many things:

A widow, a cook, a leader. An entrepreneur by necessity and by heart. But above all, she is a woman who refuses to let darkness—literal or figurative—define her path. 

Energy is coming. Opportunity is coming. And she is already preparing, planning, and dreaming. Her story is not one of the electricity arriving in a community. It is the story of a community that already had its spark—and a woman whose fire is always burning.