Lucent Obstruction

Perhaps the idea was delusional - coming to Chuuk and instantly being welcomed into the community, falling in love with the land - the people and living in solidarity with the Chuukese natives, all the while approaching the day when I could say I had finally begun to fit in. The more I learn about the culture here in Chuuk, the harder the realization is to accept that there is simply no such thing as fitting in. Of course I can wear the traditional dress – long, beautifully ornate skirts and dresses that flow well below the knee so as to conceal the sexually suggestive part of the female anatomy; I can gradually acquire a taste for the breadfruit, coconuts, tarot, tapioca and bananas that grow in abundance; I can even learn how to brandish their “local utensils” (your fingers!); I can allow my body to acclimate itself to the perpetual summer humidity; I can accept the ostentatious display in the heavens – the means by which the Lord closes the day as part of the standard routine; I can act naturally while riding in the bed of a pickup truck like I’ve been doing it for years; I can hone the skill of scaling palm trees, and within minutes be on the ground enjoying the succulence of a fresh coconut; I can deal with the scarcity of paper products (ie: paper towels, toilet paper etc…) and I can become indifferent to sudden or prolonged losses of power; I can embrace the crater size divots that hinder any trips by vehicle into town. I can enjoy the beauty of a star-studded sky complete with neighboring planets and a lucid glimpse of the Milky Way. I can be taught to skin sea cucumbers, search for octopus and spear fish in order to prepare a special off-island picnic. I can allow my feet to become calloused from walking around barefoot. I can get used to the “island time” where time is not so much a constraining factor, but rather something found in limitless quantities – not to be rushed or defined by inflexibility and deadlines. I can appreciate the sounds of island percussion produced synthetically on an electronic keyboard - inextricably connected to Chuukese music. I can devise innovative ways of handling my fear of bugs, spiders and cockroaches. I can practice patience on the nights that are too hot to enjoy a peaceful slumber. I can readjust my sorely limited color spectrum to now include vibrant greens and cool blues in shades Crayola won’t market for decades. I can cultivate and even greater sense of creativity to compensate for lack of resources and lack of visual stimulation (ie: TV, media). I can force myself to adapt to the roles that demand my willingness to fill – such as posing as a literature teacher. I can humble myself to eat off the floor at my sponsor family’s home. I can quell my intense fear of dogs and learn how to fend them off by making an offensive motion and throwing rocks at them. I can revel in the fact that the island of Weno never sees a cloudless blue sky – in the event that I would need something to grab hold of to drift away. I can internalize the impoverished surroundings – one room shanties with tin, rusted roves situated right on the water to make for a convenient sanitation system, a cooking area a few steps away from the house – not far from the pig pen; clothes – tattered men’s XL shirts all the way down to the toddler’s tighty whities strung across the line, with the extras draped over the tin fence serving as somewhat of a buffer between the road and the property. I can master the art of the bucket shower so as to conserve water when it hasn’t rained in quite some time….I can find the time to listen. I can continue to challenge myself. I can ask questions. I can stare into the eyes of the people here and long to understand their story….

and even after all that, I still won’t fit in…….

I will never be able to completely master all of the intricacies of this complex language. I will never be able to entirely understand the difference between the language men are entitled to use to talk to each other, and the common language that includes women. I will never be able to completely reject my tendency to gravitate towards the comfortable. I will never be able to completely adopt their ability to share under the unspoken code that “what’s mine is ours.” I will never be able to run through town without children stopping mid-sentence, mid-game, mid-reverie and staring with mouths agape as I pass by. I will never be able to entirely dissipate my ingrained hierarchy that exists between the community and the individual. I will never be able to look at a pile of 68 rubber bands and string them together in a way only a Chuukese child could so as to fashion a bar over which children can jump – providing hours of entertainment. I will never be able to successfully navigate the numerous cultural taboos that exist between genders. I will never be able to “blend in” as the only white person in a room full of natively tanned Chuukese. I will never be able to escape the system in which the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, for as a teacher in the most prominent High School in Micronesia, situated on the pedestal the locals call Mabuchi Hill – I find myself facing the same dilemma that motivated my departure from the U.S. I will never be able to understand what it is like to never venture beyond the confines of 20 square miles. I will never be able to accept the fact that by virtue of the location and economic situation, Chuuk is a place that renders college degrees more trouble than their worth. I will never be able to empathize with the feelings of hopelessness and despair that leave the inhabitants of Chuuk earning the distinction of posting the world’s highest suicide rate.

I suppose that fitting in was never a legitimate goal to begin with. But that leaves me asking the question – where do I fit in? I recognize that impossibility is not an excuse for apathy, but what is it that I am trying for? If I will forever be on the outside looking through this glass pane, what good am I doing other than posing as the threat that could shatter their protective encasement? Can I truly touch someone’s life through this lucent obstruction?

“I have nothing to do today but smile” ~Garden State Soundtrack