Two posts on the same day - sorry, but this story is worth telling. While I am here on the big island (Weno, or sometimes I just call it "Chuuk" for simplicity sake), I have a host family to stay with - mostly so Peace Corps doesn't have to pay for a hotel for a number of weeks for me (and the rest of the outer island volunteers, too). I am now living with the extended family of my new permanent Moch host family here in Weno. They live on the other side of Weno away from the busy downtown, and it is incredibly beautiful there - even a river leading up to a waterfall!
The one problem - and yes, there is only one - is a significant one, because it has to do with the bathroom situation. Attached to the house is a patio, and on the end of the patio are two rooms which adjoin. One room is the bathroom (toilet and bucket shower), and the other room is where my extended family's grandmother stays. So far, so good. Until I went to take my shower the other night.
The two rooms connect via a door in the wall. As I entered the bathroom and closed that door behind me, I turned to the second door connecting to grandma's room and pulled it shut. Only, it doesn't shut - it only goes about half way before it gets stuck on a pole that is in the way. WHY IS THERE A POLE IN THE WAY??? Oh, I forgot to tell you: because Grandma is blind, and when she needs to use the potty, she follows the railing that rests on the pole into the bathroom, where a second railing directs her to the toilet.
Needless to say, I haven't used the toilet at my new host family's house. Because from the seat, not only can I see into grandma's room, but I can see grandma, too. And even though grandma can't see me, she can still hear me. And this makes the situation a little unbearable.
Last night, my host dad told me to use the other shower room, because I think they realize that its a bit awkward for me. And barring any "emergencies", I'll probably mangage for the next week or so until I can get out to Moch.
Ha!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Movin to Moch!
Well, times they are a-changin for me here in Micronesia. When I arrived to Satowan a few weeks ago, I fell back into my groove and things were looking good. Because it is summertime, I could feel that things were different on the island. Many of the faces were either new (families visiting Satowan for the summer months) or missing (finally a chance to escape cabin-fever up on Weno). Enough people remained, though, to make it fun and worthwhile.
That is, until my host father Richard gave me the news: he would be leaving on the first boat to go up to Weno for the rest of the summer, and taking with him those family members who were still on Satowan. My heart sunk. This was precisely what I dreaded happening - having him leave, and having to repeat another month or two alone, only this time, since there would be no family left on Satowan, I'd have absolutely no support. So I shared with Richard how I felt and what my concerns were, and he apologized but said he had to go to Weno for Dept of Education matters and just didn't have a choice. I told him while he was gone, that I would start a search for a new host family for me on Satowan, and he agreed it was probably for the best.
The next day, Imauo, the Peace Corps leader in Chuuk, arrived to the Mortlocks with three of my PCV friends: Jake, Ben, and John. After talking with Imauo about the situation, we felt it was best that I move off Satowan entirely. Partly this decision was pragmatic (there weren't enough people on the island to find a suitable host family to live with on such short notice), and part of it was cultural (because Richard is the island's paramount chief, it may put a new family in a tight spot culturally to take responsibility away from the chief). By divine providence, another island was ready for a volunteer to come - and, not only that, but a family from that same island had been begging Imauo here in Weno for a PCV to come live with them!
I have met my new host family (Mathias and Carleen) and their kids and nephews, nieces, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, sisters-in-law, brothers-in-law, and everyone else under the sun who you could possible imagine that might live with us. The family is much larger than the one on Satowan, which in many ways, is an answer to my concern of loneliness. I will still be teaching at the high school level, 10th and maybe 11th grade English. The school is technically a "junior high school", but I will be helping to submit paperwork to have it host 11th and 12th grades, thus becoming a real high school, the second in the Mortlocks. Competition in education will benefit both schools in the Mortlocks (the other being where I used to teach on Satowan), as too many students and not enough teachers is really hurting the educational quality on Satowan.
I am excited to make this move to Moch. I have spent a good deal of time in prayer and meditation, talking to my parents and friends, and also with Peace Corps program officers about what to expect with the move. It is a stressful time (I can tell because I've had a canker sore for a week that won't go away...UGH), but I don't think its time for me to be finished with Peace Corps yet, so I will push through. In a few months, anyway, it will be time to come home for Christmas. So that's the news so far...
My address will stay the same; the only difference is my island of service: Moch, not Satowan.
That is, until my host father Richard gave me the news: he would be leaving on the first boat to go up to Weno for the rest of the summer, and taking with him those family members who were still on Satowan. My heart sunk. This was precisely what I dreaded happening - having him leave, and having to repeat another month or two alone, only this time, since there would be no family left on Satowan, I'd have absolutely no support. So I shared with Richard how I felt and what my concerns were, and he apologized but said he had to go to Weno for Dept of Education matters and just didn't have a choice. I told him while he was gone, that I would start a search for a new host family for me on Satowan, and he agreed it was probably for the best.
The next day, Imauo, the Peace Corps leader in Chuuk, arrived to the Mortlocks with three of my PCV friends: Jake, Ben, and John. After talking with Imauo about the situation, we felt it was best that I move off Satowan entirely. Partly this decision was pragmatic (there weren't enough people on the island to find a suitable host family to live with on such short notice), and part of it was cultural (because Richard is the island's paramount chief, it may put a new family in a tight spot culturally to take responsibility away from the chief). By divine providence, another island was ready for a volunteer to come - and, not only that, but a family from that same island had been begging Imauo here in Weno for a PCV to come live with them!
I have met my new host family (Mathias and Carleen) and their kids and nephews, nieces, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, sisters-in-law, brothers-in-law, and everyone else under the sun who you could possible imagine that might live with us. The family is much larger than the one on Satowan, which in many ways, is an answer to my concern of loneliness. I will still be teaching at the high school level, 10th and maybe 11th grade English. The school is technically a "junior high school", but I will be helping to submit paperwork to have it host 11th and 12th grades, thus becoming a real high school, the second in the Mortlocks. Competition in education will benefit both schools in the Mortlocks (the other being where I used to teach on Satowan), as too many students and not enough teachers is really hurting the educational quality on Satowan.
I am excited to make this move to Moch. I have spent a good deal of time in prayer and meditation, talking to my parents and friends, and also with Peace Corps program officers about what to expect with the move. It is a stressful time (I can tell because I've had a canker sore for a week that won't go away...UGH), but I don't think its time for me to be finished with Peace Corps yet, so I will push through. In a few months, anyway, it will be time to come home for Christmas. So that's the news so far...
My address will stay the same; the only difference is my island of service: Moch, not Satowan.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
back to Satowan
Well today is July 15 - which marks only 5 months before I am back home in the US for Christmas and New Years! Until then, I plan on being at-site (Satowan) until my mid-service training conference, which will be the first week of December. That's roughly 4.5 months at site, which will be the longest span of time for me out in the Mortlocks. I am really looking forward to this long-haul, so I can further develop my language and make more of a connection to my island. Pray that I am effective and happy!
Coming to Weno, the capital island, is always a mixed bag. It's nice for the first week or so - air conditioning, pizza, pop, cars, more people, INTERNET! But, I seem to empty my wallet more regularly and lose my exercise routine. Most disconcerting, however, is the drifting feeling I get, in-between houses/sites/families and waiting in limbo to "go back home." The transition feeling is nice for a short bit, but it can be tiring. So I am happy to be heading back to my home away from home.
Richard, my host father, is back on Satowan, and the students have returned to their own islands for the summer. The "troublemaker" has returned to his island, too, so I am already feeling much safer and more secure. I also have guests to look forward to: fellow PCVs will be coming for a week or two, to tour the other Mortlocks islands, do some PC site development, and just relax and enjoy the outer island culture. The only thing I'm not looking forward to: the Satowan dogs. But I've purchased a machete from ACE Hardware to deal with that problem...
And so, life goes on! It is easy to be excited and peppy now, and times will undoubtedly fluctuate when I'm there, but Satowan is where I'm supposed to be and it's where I'm happy to be headin!
Sipwap pwal chu (until we meet together in the future...)
Alex
Coming to Weno, the capital island, is always a mixed bag. It's nice for the first week or so - air conditioning, pizza, pop, cars, more people, INTERNET! But, I seem to empty my wallet more regularly and lose my exercise routine. Most disconcerting, however, is the drifting feeling I get, in-between houses/sites/families and waiting in limbo to "go back home." The transition feeling is nice for a short bit, but it can be tiring. So I am happy to be heading back to my home away from home.
Richard, my host father, is back on Satowan, and the students have returned to their own islands for the summer. The "troublemaker" has returned to his island, too, so I am already feeling much safer and more secure. I also have guests to look forward to: fellow PCVs will be coming for a week or two, to tour the other Mortlocks islands, do some PC site development, and just relax and enjoy the outer island culture. The only thing I'm not looking forward to: the Satowan dogs. But I've purchased a machete from ACE Hardware to deal with that problem...
And so, life goes on! It is easy to be excited and peppy now, and times will undoubtedly fluctuate when I'm there, but Satowan is where I'm supposed to be and it's where I'm happy to be headin!
Sipwap pwal chu (until we meet together in the future...)
Alex
Sunday, June 28, 2009
sensory overload!
This weekend was quite the weekend for some bizarre encounters that got me all in a buzz. First, SWINE FLU!
FSM Department of Public Health has not officially confirmed a case of swine flu here on Weno, but that hasn't stopped the island from entering Defcon 4. At church on Sunday, Pastor Remi called on the Lord to save "our small island of Weno" from the pandemic. I'm right there with him... Of course, as gossip tends to go here in Micronesia, very little ever actually turns out to be true. The rumor got started last Friday, and since then, Chuuk State Hospital has been requiring all patients and visitors to don protective mouth masks upon entering, thus giving everyone the sneaking suspicion there might be some truth, and adding more fuel to the fire. Fingers, toes, and eyes crossed...
Second, police car chase! Suzi, Kester, and I were standing outside at Shigeto's store (typical grocery store) waiting for our DiGiorno's pizzas to cook in their toaster oven (sweeeeet!). It was probably near 6:30pm or so, and we were just chatting, when I looked up to see a gray sedan come flying by heading south down the main road on Weno. (When I say "road" I really mean "glorified snowmobile path", as I have seen seasonal roads in upper Michigan with better maintenance; I make this aside only to stress that this car's speed, marked by the ensuing 1930s-esque Dust Bowl, was significant, considering the potholes, mud, and standing lakes of water). We all paid it very little attention, other than to scoff and roll our eyes. I, however, turned my head up the road to the north, and saw a police truck (the police in Weno drive pretty new Toyota Tundra extended cab pickups) doing a U-ey. Within a couple seconds, it, too, came blasting by, honking its horn (not using its lights and siren). Most noticeably were the two officers who had been sitting in the bed of the truck, and were now half standing/half crouching in the bed, holding on to a metal handlebar rigged across the roof of the cab behind the lights. They both looked like they were skiing, as they bobbed up and down with the truck over the mogols in the road. And if that weren't excitement enough, one had drawn his weapon, a huge, silver piece, and was holding it aimed straight up in the air! Suzi and I both sort of just looked on with our mouths agape, until we saw the gun, and both gasped.
Without making any judgment about the evasive driver, I can say that that officer's decision to draw his weapon while standing in the bed of, and barely holding on to, a careening and bouncing pickup just takes the situation to a whole new caliber of danger and misfortune. Suzi said it best: it really scares me, because that kind of action moves it to a level where something is guaranteed to happen which otherwise wouldn't have.
Third - I danced at a wedding reception! Okay, so I've danced at wedding receptions before. But not as the center of attention. Saturday night, at about 8:30pm (normally nearing my bed time), my family said "get dressed - we're going dancing!" So, in typical Chuukese fashion, I threw on a polo and some decent shorts, and ran to the car, excited for the night's festivities. We arrived early, and sat around waiting for the newly wedded couple to come. I hadn't eaten dinner yet, so I snacked on donuts, cheetos, and what I think was egg salad on a roll. One of the guys who stays with us, plus my host uncle, busted out the keyboard, and within minutes, hip Chuukese techno-pop-cum-disco were blaring and I was swept up with a mad rush of 30-something Chuukese women dancing to their hearts content. I danced two songs, but was upstaged each time by a slightly inebriated acquaintance of mine (the brother of the new husband), which was fine by me.
We left near 10pm, and I immediately went to bed. What a weekend!
FSM Department of Public Health has not officially confirmed a case of swine flu here on Weno, but that hasn't stopped the island from entering Defcon 4. At church on Sunday, Pastor Remi called on the Lord to save "our small island of Weno" from the pandemic. I'm right there with him... Of course, as gossip tends to go here in Micronesia, very little ever actually turns out to be true. The rumor got started last Friday, and since then, Chuuk State Hospital has been requiring all patients and visitors to don protective mouth masks upon entering, thus giving everyone the sneaking suspicion there might be some truth, and adding more fuel to the fire. Fingers, toes, and eyes crossed...
Second, police car chase! Suzi, Kester, and I were standing outside at Shigeto's store (typical grocery store) waiting for our DiGiorno's pizzas to cook in their toaster oven (sweeeeet!). It was probably near 6:30pm or so, and we were just chatting, when I looked up to see a gray sedan come flying by heading south down the main road on Weno. (When I say "road" I really mean "glorified snowmobile path", as I have seen seasonal roads in upper Michigan with better maintenance; I make this aside only to stress that this car's speed, marked by the ensuing 1930s-esque Dust Bowl, was significant, considering the potholes, mud, and standing lakes of water). We all paid it very little attention, other than to scoff and roll our eyes. I, however, turned my head up the road to the north, and saw a police truck (the police in Weno drive pretty new Toyota Tundra extended cab pickups) doing a U-ey. Within a couple seconds, it, too, came blasting by, honking its horn (not using its lights and siren). Most noticeably were the two officers who had been sitting in the bed of the truck, and were now half standing/half crouching in the bed, holding on to a metal handlebar rigged across the roof of the cab behind the lights. They both looked like they were skiing, as they bobbed up and down with the truck over the mogols in the road. And if that weren't excitement enough, one had drawn his weapon, a huge, silver piece, and was holding it aimed straight up in the air! Suzi and I both sort of just looked on with our mouths agape, until we saw the gun, and both gasped.
Without making any judgment about the evasive driver, I can say that that officer's decision to draw his weapon while standing in the bed of, and barely holding on to, a careening and bouncing pickup just takes the situation to a whole new caliber of danger and misfortune. Suzi said it best: it really scares me, because that kind of action moves it to a level where something is guaranteed to happen which otherwise wouldn't have.
Third - I danced at a wedding reception! Okay, so I've danced at wedding receptions before. But not as the center of attention. Saturday night, at about 8:30pm (normally nearing my bed time), my family said "get dressed - we're going dancing!" So, in typical Chuukese fashion, I threw on a polo and some decent shorts, and ran to the car, excited for the night's festivities. We arrived early, and sat around waiting for the newly wedded couple to come. I hadn't eaten dinner yet, so I snacked on donuts, cheetos, and what I think was egg salad on a roll. One of the guys who stays with us, plus my host uncle, busted out the keyboard, and within minutes, hip Chuukese techno-pop-cum-disco were blaring and I was swept up with a mad rush of 30-something Chuukese women dancing to their hearts content. I danced two songs, but was upstaged each time by a slightly inebriated acquaintance of mine (the brother of the new husband), which was fine by me.
We left near 10pm, and I immediately went to bed. What a weekend!
Friday, June 26, 2009
school year ends!
Finally! The rush of relief that surrounded the end of my first school term has ebbed and left me a little bummed that I won't get to see "my seniors" anymore, loafing around the island, playing basketball, or just lounging wherever's comfortable. I have remarked, countless times, on the stresses of teaching, made especially apparent to a "non-teacher" like myself. But maybe I've been selling myself short. Because, now that I'm reflecting on it, I take great pride, and find much solace, in the fact that, despite all the inefficiencies and corruption of this sprawling bureaucracy, I have accomplished something far more important and lasting: the education of people.
I have relied on that fact. And, no doubt, I will continue to rely on the hope that my work educating students will pay off in each of their lives one day. It has been my prayer that I would remember to keep a servant's attitude about myself each day I put on my Peace Corps Face. No matter how late the school year starts, how often we go without food, how many delays prevent entrance exam testing - the simple accumulation of English language knowledge opens doors immediately for the young men and women of Mortlocks High School.
Even though "summer vacation" will always have an irresistable tug at my heart, deep down I just hope the school year was long enough to have done it well and to have done it right. All of this, with an eye toward September...
I have relied on that fact. And, no doubt, I will continue to rely on the hope that my work educating students will pay off in each of their lives one day. It has been my prayer that I would remember to keep a servant's attitude about myself each day I put on my Peace Corps Face. No matter how late the school year starts, how often we go without food, how many delays prevent entrance exam testing - the simple accumulation of English language knowledge opens doors immediately for the young men and women of Mortlocks High School.
Even though "summer vacation" will always have an irresistable tug at my heart, deep down I just hope the school year was long enough to have done it well and to have done it right. All of this, with an eye toward September...
Friday, May 15, 2009
Missions & Service Opportunities
Currently, the schools on the Mortlocks Islands, Satowan included, are in need of school supplies and youth sports equipment. The list below has sample items that would be of help to the communities and island schools here in the Pacific. Items may be sent most reliably via US Postal Service "flat-rate, priority" mail service. Other USPS mail services (media mail, standard mail) though nominally cheaper, are much less reliable in actually reaching us here in the Mortlocks.
Kindly include a note or letter for me with your address and contact information, as well as church or organization affiliation, for Peace Corps reporting and so that our communities here can be in touch with you. Thank you for being a blessing and opening your heart to the call of service.
School supplies (*not exhaustive*)
pencils/pens/crayons/markers/colored pencils
chalk
paper/notebooks/folders
tape, staples, staplers, pencil sharpeners
scrap paper/post-it notes
youth/young adult-fiction, children's stories/children's books
Sports supplies:
soccer balls
footballs
basketballs
volleyballs
baseballs/softballs & mitts
ball pump/needles
volleyball nets
basketball nets/hoops
I'll be in the Mortlocks again until early July. Look for more posts then. Be Easy - Be Peace - Be Christ to the World.
Alex
Kindly include a note or letter for me with your address and contact information, as well as church or organization affiliation, for Peace Corps reporting and so that our communities here can be in touch with you. Thank you for being a blessing and opening your heart to the call of service.
School supplies (*not exhaustive*)
pencils/pens/crayons/markers/colored pencils
chalk
paper/notebooks/folders
tape, staples, staplers, pencil sharpeners
scrap paper/post-it notes
youth/young adult-fiction, children's stories/children's books
Sports supplies:
soccer balls
footballs
basketballs
volleyballs
baseballs/softballs & mitts
ball pump/needles
volleyball nets
basketball nets/hoops
I'll be in the Mortlocks again until early July. Look for more posts then. Be Easy - Be Peace - Be Christ to the World.
Alex
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day
I went to a Mother's Day feast yesterday here on Weno at the family compound of a group of Satowanese who live here on the main island. I was surprised to see the Mayor of Satowan and a colleague teacher in the community house as I walked in, and I shook hands with both saying "Raan allem". The table was bedecked with food - mwelan pula (taro with coconut cream), rice, hotdogs, ohn (turtle), piik (pig - cooked over the fire; I just pulled the meat off the skeleton of the animal), kon (pounded breadfruit), malek (chicken), and punch, cookies, doughnuts, and biscuits. A feast indeed!
After we ate, the program began. As with most family gatherings and events, the traditional Micronesian custom is to have a short (or long) program where traditional and/or family elders speak, give updates, share life lessons, or tell stories. In Chuuk, especially on the outer islands, the traditional leaders (only men) speak: thank the family for coming, thank God for blessing everyone, remind the youth to be respectful and good, & encourage the people to continue working for the community & maintain an air of peace and goodwill. Even though I listen to these speeches and exhortations behind the loud din of a gas generator which is powering the 60W lightbulb and electric fan keeping us comfortable in the equatorial evening heat, there is something else at work here. I can't help but be transported back to a time when the safety and strength of the several islands' communities depended on just these kinds of meetings to bond the people together; it was not really that long ago when life could only be sustained by the very intentional community of the island people. That community was made manifest in a very real way last night.
A few men spoke at the beginning, saying their thanks and praise. Then a few songs, sung by the male youth and also the female youth (youth in Micronesia is between the ages of 14 and 34). But what really struck me happened next. One by one, a male youth would take a flower to his mother, or auntie, or grandmother, or sister, or wife and then stand in front of the assembled community and say why he was thankful for his mother. Three of the youth, the Parks, are brothers, and their mother Asako died back in November, along with their eldest brother. I attended that funeral in November at the very place where we they now stood in celebration of the other Mothers. It was a very emotional moment, seeing them overcome by the memory of their mother, brought again to the fore during this first Mother's Day without her. I shared in their emotion; it was impossible not to.
In a society where family and community are so truly the definition to one's life, celebration & mourning, joy & grief, laughter & crying so often happen together. After they finished, and some mothers spoke to the groups assembled, and I even got to say a quick word (all in Mortlockese!), the youth did imitations of their mothers. And immediately the spirit in the room came back ten-fold; people were rolling with laughter as the boys did their best to make a joke and catch a smile on their mom's faces. Happy Mother's Day!
After we ate, the program began. As with most family gatherings and events, the traditional Micronesian custom is to have a short (or long) program where traditional and/or family elders speak, give updates, share life lessons, or tell stories. In Chuuk, especially on the outer islands, the traditional leaders (only men) speak: thank the family for coming, thank God for blessing everyone, remind the youth to be respectful and good, & encourage the people to continue working for the community & maintain an air of peace and goodwill. Even though I listen to these speeches and exhortations behind the loud din of a gas generator which is powering the 60W lightbulb and electric fan keeping us comfortable in the equatorial evening heat, there is something else at work here. I can't help but be transported back to a time when the safety and strength of the several islands' communities depended on just these kinds of meetings to bond the people together; it was not really that long ago when life could only be sustained by the very intentional community of the island people. That community was made manifest in a very real way last night.
A few men spoke at the beginning, saying their thanks and praise. Then a few songs, sung by the male youth and also the female youth (youth in Micronesia is between the ages of 14 and 34). But what really struck me happened next. One by one, a male youth would take a flower to his mother, or auntie, or grandmother, or sister, or wife and then stand in front of the assembled community and say why he was thankful for his mother. Three of the youth, the Parks, are brothers, and their mother Asako died back in November, along with their eldest brother. I attended that funeral in November at the very place where we they now stood in celebration of the other Mothers. It was a very emotional moment, seeing them overcome by the memory of their mother, brought again to the fore during this first Mother's Day without her. I shared in their emotion; it was impossible not to.
In a society where family and community are so truly the definition to one's life, celebration & mourning, joy & grief, laughter & crying so often happen together. After they finished, and some mothers spoke to the groups assembled, and I even got to say a quick word (all in Mortlockese!), the youth did imitations of their mothers. And immediately the spirit in the room came back ten-fold; people were rolling with laughter as the boys did their best to make a joke and catch a smile on their mom's faces. Happy Mother's Day!
Monday, May 4, 2009
6 weddings and a funeral...
Since I've been out there, we've had 6 weddings and, just before I left to come here this time, one funeral. Surprisingly, they aren't that different from back at home.
The one major difference, in terms of the weddings, is that they'll do 4-in-1 weddings, or 2-in-1 weddings, or n-in-1 weddings based around the Priest's schedule (in the Mortlocks, there are 2 Catholic priests who island hop). My first wedding, 4 couples were wedded. The feast afterward was amazing, because someone baked a cake using a local oven (a huge oil/gas drum - 55gal - shortened, and converted into an oven - don't ask me how, just believe it can be done). The latest wedding was a 2-in-1, and a colleague teacher got married to another colleague teacher's brother! On the island, you quickly realize that most people are related in some tangential way, so its really quite amazing when 2 people are able to come from the same village and not be directly related.
From what I can tell, there are one or two wedding dresses which circulate between brides; the same goes for one tuxedo. Of course, everything fits terribly, but nobody notices or minds. Which makes me ask, then why do they feel the need to "dress up"? The brides who don't get the big dress for the big day, just wear a local white dress with a locally made white veil - much more appropriate in terms of size and fit.
I suppose that this is one effect of Western culture, absorbed from movies and shows and magazines and pictures. While it wasn't important before, and I daresay it really isn't that important now, the folks out there just like to have the experience - or have some kind of experience - which they perceive to be necessary or appropriate.
The funeral was a sad experience, but I felt myself much more removed and observant than as if I were participating in it - almost like it was on TV. My host father's(Richard) 2nd daughter, Katalyna (aka Nemis), was adopted by his cousin - [in the Mortlocks it's common practice to give your 2nd or 3rd child up for adoption to a relative who has no children or fewer children than you out of love and family bond]. The woman how became Nemis's adoptive grandmother died April 27th. She had come back to Satowan from Weno to convalesce.
That afternoon, I had been walking to Nemis's house (her husband Keipo is my friend and language tutor) when I heard what sounded like cheering. I assumed my ears were playing tricks, and the sound was coming from behind me, where the students were practicing for an upcoming track and field day. But as I got closer to Keipo & Nemis's house, I heard the cheering get louder. Then I realized it wasn't cheering, but crying - and not really crying as much as wailing. And then it hit me: her grandmother had died.
Now, on Satowan, as in all of Chuuk and Micronesia really, when a person dies, it is customary for the men to clear out, and the women from all over the island to converge on the house and begin mourning for hours, and hours, and hours. They cry so hard and for so long that, when they finally stop, most collapse and fall asleep - they've just cried all of their sadness out of them.
The men, not too far off, listen to this, and make small talk amongst themselves, as they prepare the coffin, clear a path, ready the grave, clear the plot, prepare concrete, and drink innumerable cups of coffee. They of course must move fast, because there is no "preparing the body" - its just back to the earth.
The funeral was the next day. People were very tired, of course, from staying up all night. We cancelled school (which you have to do on funeral days, because its almost impossible with the number of teachers and Satowanese students who are related to the deceased in some way). The funeral took place at our home, as did the burial, and then the feast of food which followed. Once the body was interred, everyone just sort of left, and life sort of resumed.
In some ways, out here on the islands, I think death sort of loses its mystical fear, because folks have been dealing with death in their immediate families and communities everyday since their births. Because they are all so closely related, because they see one another so often, that when someone dies, its terrifically sad, but just an everyday part of living. I know that's weird to think about - especially in those terms. But in America, we don't really treat "death" that way - we avoid it, we move a lot, we don't hold the same relationships and connections for all 80 years of our lives, we move out of our parents' home, etc - death comes, but its place in our lives is not as permanent or tolerated as it is here in Micronesia. That's neither good nor bad. It just is. Kinda like a funeral.
The one major difference, in terms of the weddings, is that they'll do 4-in-1 weddings, or 2-in-1 weddings, or n-in-1 weddings based around the Priest's schedule (in the Mortlocks, there are 2 Catholic priests who island hop). My first wedding, 4 couples were wedded. The feast afterward was amazing, because someone baked a cake using a local oven (a huge oil/gas drum - 55gal - shortened, and converted into an oven - don't ask me how, just believe it can be done). The latest wedding was a 2-in-1, and a colleague teacher got married to another colleague teacher's brother! On the island, you quickly realize that most people are related in some tangential way, so its really quite amazing when 2 people are able to come from the same village and not be directly related.
From what I can tell, there are one or two wedding dresses which circulate between brides; the same goes for one tuxedo. Of course, everything fits terribly, but nobody notices or minds. Which makes me ask, then why do they feel the need to "dress up"? The brides who don't get the big dress for the big day, just wear a local white dress with a locally made white veil - much more appropriate in terms of size and fit.
I suppose that this is one effect of Western culture, absorbed from movies and shows and magazines and pictures. While it wasn't important before, and I daresay it really isn't that important now, the folks out there just like to have the experience - or have some kind of experience - which they perceive to be necessary or appropriate.
The funeral was a sad experience, but I felt myself much more removed and observant than as if I were participating in it - almost like it was on TV. My host father's(Richard) 2nd daughter, Katalyna (aka Nemis), was adopted by his cousin - [in the Mortlocks it's common practice to give your 2nd or 3rd child up for adoption to a relative who has no children or fewer children than you out of love and family bond]. The woman how became Nemis's adoptive grandmother died April 27th. She had come back to Satowan from Weno to convalesce.
That afternoon, I had been walking to Nemis's house (her husband Keipo is my friend and language tutor) when I heard what sounded like cheering. I assumed my ears were playing tricks, and the sound was coming from behind me, where the students were practicing for an upcoming track and field day. But as I got closer to Keipo & Nemis's house, I heard the cheering get louder. Then I realized it wasn't cheering, but crying - and not really crying as much as wailing. And then it hit me: her grandmother had died.
Now, on Satowan, as in all of Chuuk and Micronesia really, when a person dies, it is customary for the men to clear out, and the women from all over the island to converge on the house and begin mourning for hours, and hours, and hours. They cry so hard and for so long that, when they finally stop, most collapse and fall asleep - they've just cried all of their sadness out of them.
The men, not too far off, listen to this, and make small talk amongst themselves, as they prepare the coffin, clear a path, ready the grave, clear the plot, prepare concrete, and drink innumerable cups of coffee. They of course must move fast, because there is no "preparing the body" - its just back to the earth.
The funeral was the next day. People were very tired, of course, from staying up all night. We cancelled school (which you have to do on funeral days, because its almost impossible with the number of teachers and Satowanese students who are related to the deceased in some way). The funeral took place at our home, as did the burial, and then the feast of food which followed. Once the body was interred, everyone just sort of left, and life sort of resumed.
In some ways, out here on the islands, I think death sort of loses its mystical fear, because folks have been dealing with death in their immediate families and communities everyday since their births. Because they are all so closely related, because they see one another so often, that when someone dies, its terrifically sad, but just an everyday part of living. I know that's weird to think about - especially in those terms. But in America, we don't really treat "death" that way - we avoid it, we move a lot, we don't hold the same relationships and connections for all 80 years of our lives, we move out of our parents' home, etc - death comes, but its place in our lives is not as permanent or tolerated as it is here in Micronesia. That's neither good nor bad. It just is. Kinda like a funeral.
Life in the Classroom
Back again until May 16th; second phase training came earlier than expected. I plan on being back in again in July for a conference.
I thought it might be interesting to share what a typical day looks like for me in the classroom, so here goes. [As you know, I teach 11th and 12th grade English writing and reading].
6:30a - My watch alarm beeps, waking me up (though, if I'm honest, I've been awake for 35 mins, off and on, because the sun has been up that long). Shower, breakfast [crackers & coffee], brush my teeth, sit & wait.
7:45a - In a perfect world, the bell would ring and I would then walk to school - which is about 1 min from my house.
8:00a - In a slightly less perfect world, the bell would ring and I would then walk to school.
8:07a - The bell rings. 12th grade reading begins, with approximately 12/30 students present. My attitude, at this stage ambivalent, begins to go sour.
8:15a - I'm done waiting for stragglers, take attendance, and begin the lesson. Stragglers will arrive until the bell rings; I will not admit most, but remind them instead they lost their class points.
8:45a - Bell rings; reading class has lasted all of 30mins. 11th grade writing (section A) begins. Attitude improves markedly.
9:00a - At this point in the lesson, a student will generally address a question to me in Chuukese. I will stare at him/her, my mouth open in gaffaw, and slowly point up to the wall, where it reads: "STOP! English ONLY Zone" Students will laugh; I will ask for a rephrase. Since April, the student will generally attempt to say it in English. Before April, there would be no hope; hence my translator, Harrison.
9:49a - No bell yet, so I'll tell one of the students sitting outside (not in class, because his/her teacher did not show up - an everyday occurrence that at least 2 teachers are absent) to go ring the bell; we pound it with a hammer. [The bell is an old empty gas cylinder, like the air tanks used to go diving, left over from the Japanese during WWII]
9:52a - Bell rings; end of 2nd period; 3rd period - 12th grade English Writing
10:00a - Most (if not all) of the 12th graders are present. At the beginning of the year, I would lecture them on how important it is to attend the reading class, remind them that they are losing points everyday by just being absent, and wring my hands at how little they appeared to care about school & my presence there. By and large, this is/was/has been/will forever be the most stressful and difficult part of my job: battling ambivalence towards education.
10:15a - 12th graders have snapped out of their spunk, my attitude has skyrocketed, and we are accomplishing some learning: practicing essay writing, writing narratives about their local stories [island folklore], journaling, translating, joking, etc - the part of the day I live for.
10:45a - 3rd period ends; 4th period begins - 11th grade writing (section B). At times, I think B section is my favorite section. However, I think this is only because after long mornings, I'm ready for lunch, and after 4th period, it comes.
11:00a - I recycle the 2nd period lesson, and usually do it better than I did it for 2nd period, having worked out the kinks. At this time, I begin subconsciously worrying that I'm giving an unfair advantage to B section, whereas A section has to suffer through my mistakes, false-starts, and just general akwardness. This feeling of melancholy quickly passes into joie d'vivre as I realize that the language barrier has probably prevented them from absorbing most of the lesson anyway, and so my mistakes really haven't hurt anyone. Plus it's time for...
11:45a - LUNCH! Basically, I shoo everyone out of the room, and then skip merrily back home to lunch. I had been eating at the cafeteria with the students, until the school cafeteria ran out of food. The Dept of Education sends food for hot-lunch for all students; plus breakast and dinner for the boarding students. They didn't send enough, or the cooks increased the portions exponentially. Either way, in March, the students began eating only rice 3 meals a day. UNACCEPTABLE! Back at home, I usually eat canned tuna & rice (with Frank's RedHot hotsauce, care of my parents).
12:30p - 5th period - last class of the day. We always start late because the students are lazy and full of rice and they saunter back to my classroom as if expecting nothing other than afternoon siesta.
12:40p - I am fanning myself desparately because I always wear long pants when I teach (as opposed to shorts...or a skirt), and the 1 minute walk really works the body up. Equatorial heat; enough said.
1:30p - Bell rings and I'M FREE! Actually, I usually stick around and do my lesson planning for the next day, and/or grade papers, and/or rearrange the desks, clean the chalkboard, or ask the 12th grade boys from Kuttu to come sweep out my classroom (I ask the Kuttu boys because they stay in the dorm, and on weekends, they usually loiter around the room if I'm working, so I give them menial labor to help them pass the time. They're good conversation, too.)
I thought it might be interesting to share what a typical day looks like for me in the classroom, so here goes. [As you know, I teach 11th and 12th grade English writing and reading].
6:30a - My watch alarm beeps, waking me up (though, if I'm honest, I've been awake for 35 mins, off and on, because the sun has been up that long). Shower, breakfast [crackers & coffee], brush my teeth, sit & wait.
7:45a - In a perfect world, the bell would ring and I would then walk to school - which is about 1 min from my house.
8:00a - In a slightly less perfect world, the bell would ring and I would then walk to school.
8:07a - The bell rings. 12th grade reading begins, with approximately 12/30 students present. My attitude, at this stage ambivalent, begins to go sour.
8:15a - I'm done waiting for stragglers, take attendance, and begin the lesson. Stragglers will arrive until the bell rings; I will not admit most, but remind them instead they lost their class points.
8:45a - Bell rings; reading class has lasted all of 30mins. 11th grade writing (section A) begins. Attitude improves markedly.
9:00a - At this point in the lesson, a student will generally address a question to me in Chuukese. I will stare at him/her, my mouth open in gaffaw, and slowly point up to the wall, where it reads: "STOP! English ONLY Zone" Students will laugh; I will ask for a rephrase. Since April, the student will generally attempt to say it in English. Before April, there would be no hope; hence my translator, Harrison.
9:49a - No bell yet, so I'll tell one of the students sitting outside (not in class, because his/her teacher did not show up - an everyday occurrence that at least 2 teachers are absent) to go ring the bell; we pound it with a hammer. [The bell is an old empty gas cylinder, like the air tanks used to go diving, left over from the Japanese during WWII]
9:52a - Bell rings; end of 2nd period; 3rd period - 12th grade English Writing
10:00a - Most (if not all) of the 12th graders are present. At the beginning of the year, I would lecture them on how important it is to attend the reading class, remind them that they are losing points everyday by just being absent, and wring my hands at how little they appeared to care about school & my presence there. By and large, this is/was/has been/will forever be the most stressful and difficult part of my job: battling ambivalence towards education.
10:15a - 12th graders have snapped out of their spunk, my attitude has skyrocketed, and we are accomplishing some learning: practicing essay writing, writing narratives about their local stories [island folklore], journaling, translating, joking, etc - the part of the day I live for.
10:45a - 3rd period ends; 4th period begins - 11th grade writing (section B). At times, I think B section is my favorite section. However, I think this is only because after long mornings, I'm ready for lunch, and after 4th period, it comes.
11:00a - I recycle the 2nd period lesson, and usually do it better than I did it for 2nd period, having worked out the kinks. At this time, I begin subconsciously worrying that I'm giving an unfair advantage to B section, whereas A section has to suffer through my mistakes, false-starts, and just general akwardness. This feeling of melancholy quickly passes into joie d'vivre as I realize that the language barrier has probably prevented them from absorbing most of the lesson anyway, and so my mistakes really haven't hurt anyone. Plus it's time for...
11:45a - LUNCH! Basically, I shoo everyone out of the room, and then skip merrily back home to lunch. I had been eating at the cafeteria with the students, until the school cafeteria ran out of food. The Dept of Education sends food for hot-lunch for all students; plus breakast and dinner for the boarding students. They didn't send enough, or the cooks increased the portions exponentially. Either way, in March, the students began eating only rice 3 meals a day. UNACCEPTABLE! Back at home, I usually eat canned tuna & rice (with Frank's RedHot hotsauce, care of my parents).
12:30p - 5th period - last class of the day. We always start late because the students are lazy and full of rice and they saunter back to my classroom as if expecting nothing other than afternoon siesta.
12:40p - I am fanning myself desparately because I always wear long pants when I teach (as opposed to shorts...or a skirt), and the 1 minute walk really works the body up. Equatorial heat; enough said.
1:30p - Bell rings and I'M FREE! Actually, I usually stick around and do my lesson planning for the next day, and/or grade papers, and/or rearrange the desks, clean the chalkboard, or ask the 12th grade boys from Kuttu to come sweep out my classroom (I ask the Kuttu boys because they stay in the dorm, and on weekends, they usually loiter around the room if I'm working, so I give them menial labor to help them pass the time. They're good conversation, too.)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Bye Again...for a bit...again
I'm leaving on a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again!
That's not wholly true, actually. The plane is has twin props, no jets. And I'm scheduled to return in early June for my second phase of inservice training. Until that time, keep me covered in prayers and I'll do the same for you! Don't forget...my birthday is April 8. Yikes...I'm gonna be 23, and it'll be the earliest birthday ever (because I crossed the dateline, so it's sooner!)
Love and Peace!
alex
That's not wholly true, actually. The plane is has twin props, no jets. And I'm scheduled to return in early June for my second phase of inservice training. Until that time, keep me covered in prayers and I'll do the same for you! Don't forget...my birthday is April 8. Yikes...I'm gonna be 23, and it'll be the earliest birthday ever (because I crossed the dateline, so it's sooner!)
Love and Peace!
alex
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
island living
I have been off Satowan for one week now, and I can safely say that, although being connected with news and family has been a huge emotional boost, I can’t wait until I get back out there. Truth be told, I did not expect such a powerful pull to draw me back – at least, not this soon. Maybe the ocean currents have seeped into my blood, and like the undertow after a big wave breaks on the reef, my subconscious is saying ‘go back, go home.’
Landing in Pohnpei on Monday was a HUGE culture shock. That sentence alone might not mean much, but realize two things: Pohnpei is the size of Swartz Creek, and Satowan is the size of (if not smaller) than the United Methodist Church of Swartz Creek. If you can imagine living inside a community the size of the church for 3 months, and then exiting the front doors one day and rediscovering Swartz Creek, you might just be in for a surprise. Seeing cars, taxi drivers, other “Western” people, restaurants, hustle-and-bustle, and signs was like information overload. In some ways, it stands as a harbinger of the culture shock yet to come when I arrive back stateside after my service. The familiarity and intimacy you get from being in such close quarters to so few people explodes into a dizzying anonymity when you leave the comfort zone.
Now I am back in Weno, and I feel more comfortable here, even though Chuuk is basically a failed state, in terms of development, economics, and politics. [I’ll save my observations on the political scene (we are in a run-off election right now) for private emails and conversations.] Weno is much smaller than Pohnpei, and I am more “at home” here, with a host family, faces and people that I recognize from my earlier 3 months of training, and, of course, a common language that ties it all together. In no small way, communication represents the defining linkage between me and my community here in Micronesia; as my language understanding and vocabulary improves, so, too, does my sense of relationship and connection. Without these attributes, I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I have, nor would I have the strength, will, or desire to continue on.
Lest I paint a picture of roses without thorns, I must be honest that the first three months have been a difficult stretch. Peace Corps warned us that the initial weeks of service would be the toughest – initial culture shock, difficulty of being immersed in a new language, emotional stress of being without contact/communication, and having to deal with new stresses without the ability to rely on old stress-relief mechanisms. I am now officially a professional in each of the four preceding categories, having struggled, at times valiantly and at times like a baby, through it all. Like the last post, I feel like I have come through the Refiner’s fire, and I’m shining like new! Hopefully my personal development will be somewhat evidenced in these posts as I reflect on the past three months and answer your questions. Keep ‘em coming!
Love,
Alex
Landing in Pohnpei on Monday was a HUGE culture shock. That sentence alone might not mean much, but realize two things: Pohnpei is the size of Swartz Creek, and Satowan is the size of (if not smaller) than the United Methodist Church of Swartz Creek. If you can imagine living inside a community the size of the church for 3 months, and then exiting the front doors one day and rediscovering Swartz Creek, you might just be in for a surprise. Seeing cars, taxi drivers, other “Western” people, restaurants, hustle-and-bustle, and signs was like information overload. In some ways, it stands as a harbinger of the culture shock yet to come when I arrive back stateside after my service. The familiarity and intimacy you get from being in such close quarters to so few people explodes into a dizzying anonymity when you leave the comfort zone.
Now I am back in Weno, and I feel more comfortable here, even though Chuuk is basically a failed state, in terms of development, economics, and politics. [I’ll save my observations on the political scene (we are in a run-off election right now) for private emails and conversations.] Weno is much smaller than Pohnpei, and I am more “at home” here, with a host family, faces and people that I recognize from my earlier 3 months of training, and, of course, a common language that ties it all together. In no small way, communication represents the defining linkage between me and my community here in Micronesia; as my language understanding and vocabulary improves, so, too, does my sense of relationship and connection. Without these attributes, I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I have, nor would I have the strength, will, or desire to continue on.
Lest I paint a picture of roses without thorns, I must be honest that the first three months have been a difficult stretch. Peace Corps warned us that the initial weeks of service would be the toughest – initial culture shock, difficulty of being immersed in a new language, emotional stress of being without contact/communication, and having to deal with new stresses without the ability to rely on old stress-relief mechanisms. I am now officially a professional in each of the four preceding categories, having struggled, at times valiantly and at times like a baby, through it all. Like the last post, I feel like I have come through the Refiner’s fire, and I’m shining like new! Hopefully my personal development will be somewhat evidenced in these posts as I reflect on the past three months and answer your questions. Keep ‘em coming!
Love,
Alex
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Back (for a bit...)
Ran allem!!!
Tiro me fairo aami monson... (that's: "hello, excuse me everybody" - typical salutation when you start a greeting)
Well I'm alive and in Pohnpei. Satawan is great - realllllllllllly great. I will take some time to offer some real reflections on this first leg of the journey. I will be in Chuuk tomorrow, but just wanted to take a moment now to thank you for all the love, prayers, and support you've offered me and my family. The first three months of service are definitely a very challenging period, but I feel like I've been through the refiner's fire and am stronger for the next part of my service. So thank you very, very much.
Feel free to leave comments on this with specific questions that I can answer on my next post. Killisou chappur aami monson! O le no!
Tiro me fairo aami monson... (that's: "hello, excuse me everybody" - typical salutation when you start a greeting)
Well I'm alive and in Pohnpei. Satawan is great - realllllllllllly great. I will take some time to offer some real reflections on this first leg of the journey. I will be in Chuuk tomorrow, but just wanted to take a moment now to thank you for all the love, prayers, and support you've offered me and my family. The first three months of service are definitely a very challenging period, but I feel like I've been through the refiner's fire and am stronger for the next part of my service. So thank you very, very much.
Feel free to leave comments on this with specific questions that I can answer on my next post. Killisou chappur aami monson! O le no!
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