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.