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.