From the moment I accepted my placement in Chuuk, Micronesia (after I smiled with excitement), my immediate afterthought somewhere inside of me was, “Why the heck have I been placed in Micronesia?” I had been studying the Spanish language since middle school, studied abroad in Madrid, become so interested in the language that I had considered majoring in it in college (however I ran out of time), and had passed the Spanish interview. Yet, despite my love for Spanish, my desire para dominar la lengua (to become fluent), and my hope to be placed in Central or South America, I had been placed half way across the world in a country that spoke Chuukese. Now, my second afterthought was, “What the heck is Chuukese?” So I trusted the decision on behalf of JVI- trusting that for some reason, probably many reasons, somehow Chuuk was the right place for me. I remained optimistic, even though my gut wanted to be disappointed, that my experiences in Chuuk would be different, but worthwhile.
Typical of myself, going with the wind, I departed from the US on Aug. 4, calm and contained, yet excited and anxious. I’ve almost been in Chuuk for 3 months. Now I am certain that all I have to learn has not yet been presented to me- I may not recognize or piece it all together until even after I leave this place, but there is one thing that I can saying is already brewing inside of me. Growing up, I have repeatedly heard the phrase, “God works in mysterious ways.” And I would say this applies to this. Why did I need to come all the way to Chuuk to learn this about myself? Who knows? Well you are probably wondering what the heck I am talking about by now so I’ll end the suspense.
The last month and a half or so I have been experiencing uncomfortable rashes all over my body. In the last 2 weeks they have been the worst, until about the last couple of days. They are on the tops of my feet, my ankles, calves and thighs, my butt, back, and stomach, my forearms, wrists, and shoulders – you probably are getting the point that they are practically anywhere and everywhere on my body. They itch a lot and are like little red bumps. No it is not heat rash- its suspected to be a bacterial infection. I have been recently treating it with Neosporin and a steroid and they have been improving. However, last week my skin problems culminated with a boil on the back of my upper-upper thigh. It hurt! I was sitting lop-sided-ly to avoid putting pressure on it and walking awkwardly when students weren’t around to watch me. No, I didn’t give up showering when I came here - this is just what happens when you shower with bacteria-filled water and sweat a lot.
Since the beginning of the year, when I started teaching biology and chemistry, I knew that my love for science had been reignited. It was my favorite subject growing up and somewhere during my young adult search for what to do with my life, I somewhat abandoned it. I realized within a couple of weeks of teaching that I really did always like it along the way and wanted to be able to incorporate it more into my future career plans. These feelings, intensified by my frustrations with the poor water situations in developing countries, helped me to realize that I wanted to pursue something related to human health and environmental impacts. Flirting with the idea of medicine (although it would incorporate a lot of science) just didn’t entirely feel right. Besides my 5-year old aspirations to “continue my daddy’s private practice,” the idea of listening to medical tapes about gross bowel problems and looking at nasty photos of diseases has never thrilled me. Overall, I think medicine would be hard for me to be passionate about. With some more thinking – I recalled how my cousin Monica had introduced me to “public health” when I helped out at the office for the Association of Schools of Public Health last winter. Well, thanks Monica, I think you may have planted a seed.
I started researching more in the last month and came across environmental health sciences- a branch of public health. This fits me! I have started researching graduate school programs and while the internet takes forever and the progress is slow- I am getting more and more excited. It seems like a great field that fits all of my interests- I can pick a program based on the amount of science I want. I can apply it to international contexts and it is something that I am passionate about. We cannot have healthy people without healthy environments.
So why did I have to come all the way to Chuuk to connect the dots? Your guess is as good as mine. I guess I am hard-headed. I figure that if I start researching schools now I am on schedule. It’s this time next year that I would need to apply- and well the progress is pretty slow with the resources here (and you know me- this of course is not written in stone).
As for me being in Chuuk, there are still a lot of unanswered questions. And that's okay for now.
Anyways- enough about my future-
This past weekend was the “Girls’ Gathering” at Xavier. So on Friday, all of the girls stayed on campus inside of driving back to their host families. They spent the night, didn’t sleep, ate lots of junk food, and picnicked on Saturday. It was a great opportunity for them to spend time with each other and bond, but oh so hilarious to witness. Maybe I am being biased and choosing not to recall how silly I actually was when I was 13-17, but it was certainly entertaining.
The night started with a game similar to what we Americans know as Truth or Dare. The girls persuaded me to play and the way it worked was that everyone sat in a circle and passed a bottle. This part was like hot potato. If you were holding the bottle when the music stopped playing, you had to pick a piece of paper out of a bag that either had a truth or a dare. Well, of course they rigged it to stop on me. So when I picked my paper, it read, “Which senior boy do you think likes you and why?” I laughed and said I couldn’t answer it. I read two words and the girls screamed so hard that I had to stop to be heard. They were so excited and thought I could actually reasonably answer the question. Then I said I have a joke with a male staff member – we have a love/hate relationship. They asked what I liked most about him and I said his jaw line (what, who looks at jaw lines? But it was an easy way for them to leave me alone without really saying much) And of course they all screamed with excitement. The next day a couple of them asked me if it was really true and I confidently said, “No, it was a joke.” Their looks of disappointment were so big, as if I could actually share dark, juicy, personal secrets of mine with them (not that I have many dark, juicy, personal secrets anyway). Then they smiled and I explained how answering that question honestly would be unprofessional and weird, similar to them choosing what 10 year-old child they babysat for had a crush on them, in front of the children themselves. Then they understood and were still happy I played.
There were more funny events of the weekend that just left me laughing, but those will be saved for a later conversation (for what happens at girl’s gathering is pretty much top secret out here in Weno- or at least they like to tell everyone that even though all the boys somehow find out the next morning). The picnic the next day by the beach was nice and sunny. Several girls pitched in money to rent a canoe for the day so that turned into a constant-lets-see-who-we-can-tip-off-the-canoe game. Once lunch came out, the girls started to have a huge icing fight with the cake so half the cake’s icing went to the girls’ faces. It amazed me that most of them didn’t care at all. Many didn’t even bother to wipe it off and just play volleyball for an hour or two with icing smeared all over their faces.
The month of November should be pretty busy. Things on the agenda: This weekend I am going off-island (hooray, my first break from Weno) to Tolowas for a JV retreat. Then, in 2 weekends, the Xavier Staff retreat will be on-island, but at Blue Lagoon (about an hours drive from Xavier on the other side of the island by the nice beaches). The weekend following, I will help chaperone/lead the Junior Retreat. I’m excited for it because it is always nice to be able to get to know the students in a non-academic setting. Then the last week, Katie and Josh’s families will be visiting, as well as it will be Thanksgiving. Woah! That’s a lot. So if you don’t hear from me, I’ll catch up more in December.
As for this week, the Juniors are supposed to put together a “Haunted Hallway.” We’ll see how it goes. Happy early birthday to Jenn! Talk soon.
-Steph
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Micronesian Suitcase
The room was calm and comfortable. 6 women, including myself, sat Indian style on the cool cement floor - slowly wrapping the recently pounded breadfruit with clean, crisp, green banana leaves. The father lay several feet away overseeing the progress. One by one we filled the suitcase with gifts for her relatives- breadfruit, coconut oil, tapioca, mussels, fish, and more. The goods were precious. The pace was slow. The room was peaceful. Few words were needed.
With each item that was placed in the suitcase, one more was kept on the floor, reserved for the guest. I knew this meant me. My throat became dry and my face grinned.
“Try, try.”
In her broken soft English, she handed me the slimy gray strand of food that could only be named “from the water.”
“Try, try.”
Humbly, I accepted in appreciation for her gift. I grinned hesitantly - anxious and fearful that I would not like it knowing that a plateful was awaiting me. 12 eyes were watching intently. I began to chew and smile. I swallowed and tried another. I invited the other women to join and we all began eating. Despite feeling nervous, the experience was gratifying. Their generosity was attached to no expectations other than to share with me all of the little that they had.
The tapioca was sliced- soft and slightly sweet, like chewy candy. We all smiled. Some giggled.
The efforts continued. As we wrapped the gutted raw fish, I tried to slow my mind. It wanted to wander. It wondered if this fish was really going to be eaten a day from now. Instead, I trusted and kept wrapping.
We zipped the two humble suitcases and set them by the door. 6 hours remained until the trip to the airport. We sat on the rocks as the sun fell into the water. The sky became orange, then pink,
gray, and then black.
We sat in each others’ company knowing that it would be months before we would see each other again. Little words were spoken, but smiles were exchanged.
Friendship is powerful. It moves hearts and minds. In only two months, I know she moved my heart- with her gracious smiles, soft voice, and compassionate spirit. She made me feel at home.
I took me weeks to hear her voice- subtle, but dignified. She was patient. She trusted.
She left with ambition - to find a job, attend college, and support her now far-away family. Two suitcases in hand, filled only with gifts for others.
Two suitcases in hand, filled only with gifts for others. She took nothing for herself.
I recall three months ago. As I scurried to fill my two suitcases, I pondered every thing I thought I would need. I gathered clothes, medicines, keepsakes, odds and ends. I felt prepared.
I was foolish. Things cannot prepare you when you look different, when you feel out of place, or when you do not know what to say.
Things cannot prepare you for your heart to be touched.
The small handshake of an excited four-year old communicates enough.
In Micronesia, a little is seemingly always enough.
With each item that was placed in the suitcase, one more was kept on the floor, reserved for the guest. I knew this meant me. My throat became dry and my face grinned.
“Try, try.”
In her broken soft English, she handed me the slimy gray strand of food that could only be named “from the water.”
“Try, try.”
Humbly, I accepted in appreciation for her gift. I grinned hesitantly - anxious and fearful that I would not like it knowing that a plateful was awaiting me. 12 eyes were watching intently. I began to chew and smile. I swallowed and tried another. I invited the other women to join and we all began eating. Despite feeling nervous, the experience was gratifying. Their generosity was attached to no expectations other than to share with me all of the little that they had.
The tapioca was sliced- soft and slightly sweet, like chewy candy. We all smiled. Some giggled.
The efforts continued. As we wrapped the gutted raw fish, I tried to slow my mind. It wanted to wander. It wondered if this fish was really going to be eaten a day from now. Instead, I trusted and kept wrapping.
We zipped the two humble suitcases and set them by the door. 6 hours remained until the trip to the airport. We sat on the rocks as the sun fell into the water. The sky became orange, then pink,
gray, and then black.
We sat in each others’ company knowing that it would be months before we would see each other again. Little words were spoken, but smiles were exchanged.
Friendship is powerful. It moves hearts and minds. In only two months, I know she moved my heart- with her gracious smiles, soft voice, and compassionate spirit. She made me feel at home.
I took me weeks to hear her voice- subtle, but dignified. She was patient. She trusted.
She left with ambition - to find a job, attend college, and support her now far-away family. Two suitcases in hand, filled only with gifts for others.
Two suitcases in hand, filled only with gifts for others. She took nothing for herself.
I recall three months ago. As I scurried to fill my two suitcases, I pondered every thing I thought I would need. I gathered clothes, medicines, keepsakes, odds and ends. I felt prepared.
I was foolish. Things cannot prepare you when you look different, when you feel out of place, or when you do not know what to say.
Things cannot prepare you for your heart to be touched.
The small handshake of an excited four-year old communicates enough.
In Micronesia, a little is seemingly always enough.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
So if a little fallen gecko poop on your arm is not enough of a welcome
This was actually written over a week ago but because of power and other such things, I haven’t been able to post it. So it’s a little longer than normal. Enjoy anyway.
Note: If you are one of my cousins reading this to young children- read this paragraph first. The rest of the blog is safe- but this is a little disturbing.
I apparently had not yet been welcomed enough in Chuuk. I think that yesterday I saw the most disturbing thing I have seen in Chuuk thus far. I was walking to my volleyball practice. It was about 3:30pm and as I passed the forested area that is normally a hang out spot for the routine drinkers, I noticed a couple of men preparing a campfire while a couple others were pulling dogs by a rope. Next thing I knew- the men threw the rope over a tree and pulled it as hard as they could in order to hang the dogs. I certainly did not ask to witness this nor was I warned. So as I tried to ignore the pitiful yelping noises coming from the dog as it gasped for air, the men picked up large sticks and starting whacking at the dogs’ heads. My whole body cringed as I tried to walk even faster and clear my mind of the brutal image I was just left with. I tried to just tell myself “it’s okay. I live in Chuuk now.” Yes, people eat dog here and it is not uncommon for people to slaughter their own animals whether they are chickens, pigs, or dogs, etc. Dog is not only a meat people eat, but it is almost a class above most other (gross, but then again who knows when the opportunity will arise when I will be served it). To say the least, my westernized perspective that values domesticated pets and animal rights found this nauseating.
No animals are domesticated in Chuuk really. Cats are seen as bringing good luck by some, but despised by others. And people are known to kick or throw rocks and sticks at dogs. So with that being said, I had the pleasure of taking in a small kitten that I named Cinnamon, or Cimmy for short (thanks Mom), a couple weeks ago. She was starved and so weak that she could not even move her back legs. For the first couple of nights we kept her inside some of the volunteers’ offices for protection from “predators” and fed her canned tuna. This drew some very polar reactions among the staff, who come from a wide variety of backgrounds and have diverse attitudes towards animals. Within a couple of days, Cimmy (who also goes by “Shingles”) had developed enough strength to walk and roam like any other curious cats. Those of us taking care of her decided it would be good to “free” her to the Rec House- a gazebo-like structure behind Xavier. Well, then problems arose since there is a lack of communication of how the Xavier community was going to keep Cimmy as a pet. She sometimes rebels and wanders upstairs to the porch/kitchen area where we played with her during her first few days of recovery and leaves her “trail.” Understandably this is upsetting for people that live here. And while I am a proponent of keeping Cimmy around Xavier and training her to stay outside, others want to kill her. Cimmy lives in Chuuk – just that fact makes her hardy and undomesticated- so her survival outside is very possible now that she is not at immediate risk of death.
Apparently last year there came a time when the old director was paying employees for dead or caught cats around Xavier because of the problems they were causing (Note: The entrance to Xavier is open on both sides on the ground level so anything can wander in). While in the scheme of things this situation is not a big deal, it does somewhat upset me. Luckily, when I first wrote this blog, it was full of venting thoughts. Since then, I have been able to edit it and say things have calmed down towards Cimmy. People aren’t expressing such distaste towards her now that she is starting to “follow rules.” And I have a new adorable friend. I just crack up now every time I watch her have a stare contest with the very curious campus dog, Puma. Although she is about 1/100 of his size, she carries more presence and is not scared of him. One swipe of her hand and he backs off.
Cimmy is getting a little bigger, but is still adorable and loves to crawl up on me and curl into a ball. We have a nightly date, which usually results in me ending up with itchy legs for mosquitos.
Last weekend my Chuukese friend, Nievic, told me that she would be leaving this coming Sunday to return to Hawaii for school. She will be working to continue her third year of college at Chaminade, and while I must be happy for her and encourage her to go, I’m also sad. She was my first Chuukese friend in Weno and she has done a lot for me thus far. We play on the same volleyball team and she knows the most English of the players since she has been to school in the states before and can help me with translating a lot. She was also the first to treat me with local medicine- good ol’ coconut oil on a gash I got on my knee. It apparently heals wounds well, and while I later also cleaned it with hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment, it healed well. Last Sunday she invited me over to her house and made me soki-sok. It is a type of banana cooked with coconut milk- very common here and very good. But they don’t use the good-ol’ Chiquita types of bananas you are probably familiar with. There are several types of bananas here on island, and the kind used in soki-sok are very starchy. You wouldn’t eat them plain and people term them “cooking bananas.” Then we had “sardines,” which was actually canned mackerel. I asked her if she thought it tasted like tuna fish because that is exactly what I thought it tasted like, but she quickly shook her hand no and said it tastes different. So for those of you reading this that know me well and as having a “refined palette,” that apparently does not apply when we talk about “canned fish.” I am making baby steps with seafood here. You probably know I am not a fan of it, and while the opportunity to eat it is frequent, I try to steer clear. Probably the most exotic thing I have tried is sea cucumber (flavored to be salty and spicy, but slimy like worms) and it was actually okay to me. I haven’t quite mustered up the courage for shashimi –raw fish, sushi like- yet.
Moving on-
A lot has happened at school since I last posted- we have hosted a group of Australian high school students for an immersion trip, we have held freshmen “Entertainment” Day, and held a dedication ceremony thanking the Mabuchi Corporation of Japan for their generous gift of waterproofing the school’s roof over the summer- a project that cost close to three-fourths of a million dollars. For both the Australians and Japanese visitors, the students performed traditional dances. It was really cool for me to watch. They dressed up in grass skirts or traditional thu’s (which are basically a cloth flap tied around a males’ privates like you see on maybe the Discovery or History channel) and covered themselves in coconut oil and “tribal paint.” The dances were very well done, with a lot of chanting, although it was a little weird for me to see some of my students basically half-naked. They even did a fire tossing performance. About 10-12 of the boys twirled “batons” of coconut wood whose ends were lit on fire. It was impressive and dangerous. Only one of the boys accidentally burned a part of his toe. This would have never ever happened in an American school! I’m excited to send pictures soon.
The entertainment day was ridiculous- it was basically a 2 hour show of upperclassmen cross-dressing and posing as freshmen. The freshmen loved it. I didn’t agree with it. In my opinion it was inappropriate and certainly did not necessitate students to miss class, which happened, but culturally cross-dressing is extremely entertaining. I guess we are also dealing with the maturity of 13-17 year olds.
The school received a plentiful donation of sports equipment from the Australians, which was much appreciated. As for the immersion experience, I don’t know how much of an immersion trip it actually was since the Australians only spent one night sleeping on campus- the rest they spent at a hotel, the nicest hotel actually, in Weno. But they remarked that they were very moved by their experiences. They spent one morning learning how to build the huts out of coconut leaves/wood. It was encouraging to see the students get excited to host the boys, and I think both groups learned from the experience. I am guessing the Australians’ experiences were profound since they come from what I have heard is the wealthiest boarding school in Sydney. They experienced the 1 to 1.5 hour bus trip from their hotel to Xavier every day on the pitiful road of Weno. The trip is only about 9 miles so that will give you an idea of the condition of the road. As well as they passed through the “downtown” and several villages, exposing the hardships of the Chuukese people- the lack of a sewer or trash collection system, the pothole-filled road, the long stretches of sheet metal posted to give the people some privacy to their very humble houses, some which would be labeled shacks. However, they also enjoyed the luxury of paying a company to go snorkeling, which the locals would never do and participated in other sight seeing on other islands.
The student body’s goodbye to them on Thursday actually brought tears to my eyes. Micronesians are extremely heartfelt people from what I have experienced thus far. They express emotion and thanks in a different way than I am used to- a uniquely warm way. They are very intentional about it. The students gathered around the Australians- literally only leaving room for them to breathe. Envision about 10 people crowd by a group of about 130. No, personal space is not really honored here. With their arms stretched out, the students sang to them. Students are not scared of singing here- I love that about them. I think it was the words of the song that actually got me. It spoke about how they had touched each others lives and while they depart or separate, they hold each other alive in their hearts and their memories. I think it made me think of home and the love I felt when I left in July. May not sound like much, but the couple of minutes were peacefully beautiful and reminded me of how much I appreciate everyone back home and the generosity that has been shown and shared with me in the last few months. Thanks again. (Can you believe it is almost 3 months since my send-off? Wow.)
I have started teaching the students and other neighborhood kids how to do backbends and other gymnastics skills. I have actually perfected my backbend (T, you would be proud). It’s ironic that I didn’t do so in the 4 years I taught gymnastics from an actual gym with mats and such, but demonstrating the skills is an easy way to grab the kids’ attention and connect with them, especially when a lot of the village kids speak no English. They are always impressed to see that I can do it and want to learn. It’s great. The other days I started playing and dancing with these 4 girls between the ages of 3 and 10. I have to tell you- no joke the 3 year-old could shake her hips better than I can (which doesn’t say much ha ha but you get the idea). They start training them for hula early.
So before I end this very long blog (sorry for that), I want to say one thing. I am beginning to feel very settled. Marca, my volleyball coach, told me yesterday that she wants me to know that her and her relatives consider me part of their family now. While I still know barely any Chuukese and obviously nobody can replace those I love from home, my adjustment is coming along slowly but surely. Thanks for all the continued support. I do feel like in some way I don’t really understand yet, Chuuk is where I am supposed to be right now.
Hope to hear from you soon.
-Steph
Random thoughts:
Living in Chuuk has truly solidified my belief that poverty encourages resourcefulness and creativity. Every now and then I see things that really strike me as being extremely creative in lack of better resources. For instance, using a box that a six-pack of soda bottles or cans would come in to create a hat with a stiff bill or using torn up cardboard box pieces or banana leaves as fans for small relief from the stifling heat and lack of electric fans or AC. I’m disappointed I can’t think of more, but they will come to me later.
Note: If you are one of my cousins reading this to young children- read this paragraph first. The rest of the blog is safe- but this is a little disturbing.
I apparently had not yet been welcomed enough in Chuuk. I think that yesterday I saw the most disturbing thing I have seen in Chuuk thus far. I was walking to my volleyball practice. It was about 3:30pm and as I passed the forested area that is normally a hang out spot for the routine drinkers, I noticed a couple of men preparing a campfire while a couple others were pulling dogs by a rope. Next thing I knew- the men threw the rope over a tree and pulled it as hard as they could in order to hang the dogs. I certainly did not ask to witness this nor was I warned. So as I tried to ignore the pitiful yelping noises coming from the dog as it gasped for air, the men picked up large sticks and starting whacking at the dogs’ heads. My whole body cringed as I tried to walk even faster and clear my mind of the brutal image I was just left with. I tried to just tell myself “it’s okay. I live in Chuuk now.” Yes, people eat dog here and it is not uncommon for people to slaughter their own animals whether they are chickens, pigs, or dogs, etc. Dog is not only a meat people eat, but it is almost a class above most other (gross, but then again who knows when the opportunity will arise when I will be served it). To say the least, my westernized perspective that values domesticated pets and animal rights found this nauseating.
No animals are domesticated in Chuuk really. Cats are seen as bringing good luck by some, but despised by others. And people are known to kick or throw rocks and sticks at dogs. So with that being said, I had the pleasure of taking in a small kitten that I named Cinnamon, or Cimmy for short (thanks Mom), a couple weeks ago. She was starved and so weak that she could not even move her back legs. For the first couple of nights we kept her inside some of the volunteers’ offices for protection from “predators” and fed her canned tuna. This drew some very polar reactions among the staff, who come from a wide variety of backgrounds and have diverse attitudes towards animals. Within a couple of days, Cimmy (who also goes by “Shingles”) had developed enough strength to walk and roam like any other curious cats. Those of us taking care of her decided it would be good to “free” her to the Rec House- a gazebo-like structure behind Xavier. Well, then problems arose since there is a lack of communication of how the Xavier community was going to keep Cimmy as a pet. She sometimes rebels and wanders upstairs to the porch/kitchen area where we played with her during her first few days of recovery and leaves her “trail.” Understandably this is upsetting for people that live here. And while I am a proponent of keeping Cimmy around Xavier and training her to stay outside, others want to kill her. Cimmy lives in Chuuk – just that fact makes her hardy and undomesticated- so her survival outside is very possible now that she is not at immediate risk of death.
Apparently last year there came a time when the old director was paying employees for dead or caught cats around Xavier because of the problems they were causing (Note: The entrance to Xavier is open on both sides on the ground level so anything can wander in). While in the scheme of things this situation is not a big deal, it does somewhat upset me. Luckily, when I first wrote this blog, it was full of venting thoughts. Since then, I have been able to edit it and say things have calmed down towards Cimmy. People aren’t expressing such distaste towards her now that she is starting to “follow rules.” And I have a new adorable friend. I just crack up now every time I watch her have a stare contest with the very curious campus dog, Puma. Although she is about 1/100 of his size, she carries more presence and is not scared of him. One swipe of her hand and he backs off.
Cimmy is getting a little bigger, but is still adorable and loves to crawl up on me and curl into a ball. We have a nightly date, which usually results in me ending up with itchy legs for mosquitos.
Last weekend my Chuukese friend, Nievic, told me that she would be leaving this coming Sunday to return to Hawaii for school. She will be working to continue her third year of college at Chaminade, and while I must be happy for her and encourage her to go, I’m also sad. She was my first Chuukese friend in Weno and she has done a lot for me thus far. We play on the same volleyball team and she knows the most English of the players since she has been to school in the states before and can help me with translating a lot. She was also the first to treat me with local medicine- good ol’ coconut oil on a gash I got on my knee. It apparently heals wounds well, and while I later also cleaned it with hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment, it healed well. Last Sunday she invited me over to her house and made me soki-sok. It is a type of banana cooked with coconut milk- very common here and very good. But they don’t use the good-ol’ Chiquita types of bananas you are probably familiar with. There are several types of bananas here on island, and the kind used in soki-sok are very starchy. You wouldn’t eat them plain and people term them “cooking bananas.” Then we had “sardines,” which was actually canned mackerel. I asked her if she thought it tasted like tuna fish because that is exactly what I thought it tasted like, but she quickly shook her hand no and said it tastes different. So for those of you reading this that know me well and as having a “refined palette,” that apparently does not apply when we talk about “canned fish.” I am making baby steps with seafood here. You probably know I am not a fan of it, and while the opportunity to eat it is frequent, I try to steer clear. Probably the most exotic thing I have tried is sea cucumber (flavored to be salty and spicy, but slimy like worms) and it was actually okay to me. I haven’t quite mustered up the courage for shashimi –raw fish, sushi like- yet.
Moving on-
A lot has happened at school since I last posted- we have hosted a group of Australian high school students for an immersion trip, we have held freshmen “Entertainment” Day, and held a dedication ceremony thanking the Mabuchi Corporation of Japan for their generous gift of waterproofing the school’s roof over the summer- a project that cost close to three-fourths of a million dollars. For both the Australians and Japanese visitors, the students performed traditional dances. It was really cool for me to watch. They dressed up in grass skirts or traditional thu’s (which are basically a cloth flap tied around a males’ privates like you see on maybe the Discovery or History channel) and covered themselves in coconut oil and “tribal paint.” The dances were very well done, with a lot of chanting, although it was a little weird for me to see some of my students basically half-naked. They even did a fire tossing performance. About 10-12 of the boys twirled “batons” of coconut wood whose ends were lit on fire. It was impressive and dangerous. Only one of the boys accidentally burned a part of his toe. This would have never ever happened in an American school! I’m excited to send pictures soon.
The entertainment day was ridiculous- it was basically a 2 hour show of upperclassmen cross-dressing and posing as freshmen. The freshmen loved it. I didn’t agree with it. In my opinion it was inappropriate and certainly did not necessitate students to miss class, which happened, but culturally cross-dressing is extremely entertaining. I guess we are also dealing with the maturity of 13-17 year olds.
The school received a plentiful donation of sports equipment from the Australians, which was much appreciated. As for the immersion experience, I don’t know how much of an immersion trip it actually was since the Australians only spent one night sleeping on campus- the rest they spent at a hotel, the nicest hotel actually, in Weno. But they remarked that they were very moved by their experiences. They spent one morning learning how to build the huts out of coconut leaves/wood. It was encouraging to see the students get excited to host the boys, and I think both groups learned from the experience. I am guessing the Australians’ experiences were profound since they come from what I have heard is the wealthiest boarding school in Sydney. They experienced the 1 to 1.5 hour bus trip from their hotel to Xavier every day on the pitiful road of Weno. The trip is only about 9 miles so that will give you an idea of the condition of the road. As well as they passed through the “downtown” and several villages, exposing the hardships of the Chuukese people- the lack of a sewer or trash collection system, the pothole-filled road, the long stretches of sheet metal posted to give the people some privacy to their very humble houses, some which would be labeled shacks. However, they also enjoyed the luxury of paying a company to go snorkeling, which the locals would never do and participated in other sight seeing on other islands.
The student body’s goodbye to them on Thursday actually brought tears to my eyes. Micronesians are extremely heartfelt people from what I have experienced thus far. They express emotion and thanks in a different way than I am used to- a uniquely warm way. They are very intentional about it. The students gathered around the Australians- literally only leaving room for them to breathe. Envision about 10 people crowd by a group of about 130. No, personal space is not really honored here. With their arms stretched out, the students sang to them. Students are not scared of singing here- I love that about them. I think it was the words of the song that actually got me. It spoke about how they had touched each others lives and while they depart or separate, they hold each other alive in their hearts and their memories. I think it made me think of home and the love I felt when I left in July. May not sound like much, but the couple of minutes were peacefully beautiful and reminded me of how much I appreciate everyone back home and the generosity that has been shown and shared with me in the last few months. Thanks again. (Can you believe it is almost 3 months since my send-off? Wow.)
I have started teaching the students and other neighborhood kids how to do backbends and other gymnastics skills. I have actually perfected my backbend (T, you would be proud). It’s ironic that I didn’t do so in the 4 years I taught gymnastics from an actual gym with mats and such, but demonstrating the skills is an easy way to grab the kids’ attention and connect with them, especially when a lot of the village kids speak no English. They are always impressed to see that I can do it and want to learn. It’s great. The other days I started playing and dancing with these 4 girls between the ages of 3 and 10. I have to tell you- no joke the 3 year-old could shake her hips better than I can (which doesn’t say much ha ha but you get the idea). They start training them for hula early.
So before I end this very long blog (sorry for that), I want to say one thing. I am beginning to feel very settled. Marca, my volleyball coach, told me yesterday that she wants me to know that her and her relatives consider me part of their family now. While I still know barely any Chuukese and obviously nobody can replace those I love from home, my adjustment is coming along slowly but surely. Thanks for all the continued support. I do feel like in some way I don’t really understand yet, Chuuk is where I am supposed to be right now.
Hope to hear from you soon.
-Steph
Random thoughts:
Living in Chuuk has truly solidified my belief that poverty encourages resourcefulness and creativity. Every now and then I see things that really strike me as being extremely creative in lack of better resources. For instance, using a box that a six-pack of soda bottles or cans would come in to create a hat with a stiff bill or using torn up cardboard box pieces or banana leaves as fans for small relief from the stifling heat and lack of electric fans or AC. I’m disappointed I can’t think of more, but they will come to me later.
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