Monday, July 17, 2006

New E-Mail!!

So I was just informed today, that this past Friday they terminated our xhs-jvi@mail.fm e-mail account!! So any future correspondence can be directed to jtrunce@gmail.com. I WOULD LOVE to hear from you - even if it's to say that you are alive and smiling!!! Kinisou Chapur!!

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Saipan

In spite of unreliable government funding, improperly produced passports, strained relations with Continental Micronesia, little games we like to call politics and last minute cancellations (as in the entire Chuuk State Volleyball team), 64 athletes boarded the plane that escorted them from the confines of the lagoon they embrace as home to the beautiful island of Saipan (just north of Guam) to compete bearing the flag of their island nation in the 2006 Micro Games. Even though I was officially on the roster as Assistant Coach - even though I logged the hours in miles – even though I attended the meetings - even though I ran the 5 miles to and from practice every day when rides were not available and washed cars to raise money and procured uniforms… I am still left questioning what I could have possibly done to deserve an experience like this. While I can honestly say that it was one of the most difficult experiences that I have faced here, it was simultaneously the most amazing.

If it is possible to collect the previously described intensity of Xavier Day, Track and Field Day and Cultural Day, you still might only scratch the surface of the electrical current surging through the athletes, the flags they carried, the streets they paraded down, the national anthems they processed in to and the honor they felt representing their country during the opening ceremonies. Sweltering in green warm-ups that bore the name CHUUK across the back, I tried to blend in amidst the sea of green surrounding me, however I could not help but deliberately remove myself from the moment to acknowledge how the pride I felt as an American masquerading as a Chuukese must wane in comparison to what these native Chuukese must feel. They are Olympians - idolized by everyone down to the little boy in the crowd of people lining the streets of the parade procession, who has stars in his eyes as his dream of following in the footsteps of these imminent legends begins to take shape. In a never-ending swarm of colors, the teams made their way to the track for an introductory lap and assembled themselves on the infield. As the colors split off to create individual delegations, it was not with a sense of cutthroat competitiveness, but with an unspoken sense of camaraderie that would pervade nearly every competition in the following 8 days. (That is with the exception of Guam, who from their boredom with the opening ceremonies, to their noticeable individualism on the playing field seemed to embody values much different than the delegations they stood beside.) After the lighting of the torch, and the fireworks display the 2006 Micro Games were officially underway. When the field had finally cleared out, I brought my athletes back to the track to run their legs out before they began competition the next day. While “track Chuukese” is something I can understand, words were not necessary to describe how excited each of them were to lace up a pair of “new” spikes (THANK YOU TO ANYONE WHO DONATED SPIKES FOR THEM TO RUN IN!!) and stride out across a real rubber surface under the lights. Of course being the track nerd that I am, I mooched off of their energy and stuck around to release a little excitement of my own – to be able to stain my fingers red by simply touching the surface of a track again never mind hossing out a few laps was an ecstasy in and of itself.

Saturday marked the beginning of the track events, and while we qualified finalists in the 100M sprints, my true interests lay in the 10,000M run. Though it took nearly every ounce of my energy to refrain from jumping into the race, I managed to save some to encourage Puna and Juda through their laps. While I cannot remember the lap number, as 25 laps tend to blend together somewhere after lap 4, I remember the moment distinctly when the passion, the energy, the excitement, the electricity and the sheer elation dissolved into confusion, frustration and isolation. Juda mentally checked out of the race from the start, but Puna had been right on the tail of 2 respectable runners from Guam. Through about 4 miles he had hung on the back of them with ease and had easily become the crowd’s favorite, as is the case when any underdog steps up to challenge Guam. As he began to slip off the pace, he came around the backstretch where our tent, and cheering section was located, he turned to us, and said in Chuukese which I had to have translated, “I’m just going to take third.”

I’ve analyzed, re-analyzed and over analyzed this moment in my head in the hopes of finding some explanation for my reaction and have settled on a cultural conflict that I am unable to reconcile. Perhaps I am in no position to criticize the Guaminians all that much. The only venue in which I have ever competed is one that values accomplishment, and the natural high born of pushing myself to meet my potential - And when I watched Puna just about walk 2 miles and then come the last 100M morph into a world class sprinter, I know that with a little effort, 2nd place was within reach. While I wanted desperately to hide my frustration and be content with the results as they stood, I know that the disappointment on my face was more than transparent. But perhaps even worse was being locked up in this world of frustration all alone. Not only could I not communicate my frustration with the evening, but any form of communication with the team was becoming more difficult and increasingly awkward. The few expressions that I did know had become trite, and while I wanted to at least try and listen in the hopes of understanding something, I either felt like a poor eavesdropper who made no attempts at being discreet, or out of pity people translated conversations into English for me. As I looked down, the line between challenging myself with an uncomfortable situation, and just being a plain annoyance was growing thinner. Even worse, I wanted to speak Chuukese so badly, but did not know the proper grammar, or could not formulate sentences fast enough, and so instead of at least saying something – by default, nothing came out. In a culture where everything is done together, if I wasn’t an outcast already, I think I pretty much sealed the deal when I would disappear by myself for hours just so I wouldn’t be a lingering annoyance.

The next day, Sunday, I strolled down to the 9:00 AM mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Cathedral. The building itself was simply gorgeous and the mass – beautiful, but I think that the real answer to my prayers was delivered in the Gospel and the Homily that, while it sounds selfish, I’m quite certain was written and delivered specifically for me. It was taken from Mark’s gospel, where two disciples go sailing with Jesus when a storm kicks up and the disciples begin to panic: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

The priest then began to explain the Gospel based on the idea that a very wise person once told me, but perhaps took on new meaning this particular day, “The LORD comforts the afflicted, and afflicts the comfortable.” While I still did not feel comforted, I was able to take steps towards being comfortable with the opportunity born of affliction. Although the experience thus far had been nothing but humbling, humility is not a state, but a constant decision – to be at His mercy, to accept the fact that to these Chuukese I am basically a child, so completely dependent on them for learning, for a sense of belonging, for reinforcement.

Perhaps He knew that even after all of this internal contemplation, I still needed some sort of balance between surrendering independence and self-sufficiency. After attending one of the guys basketball games, (I’m pretty sure – by myself) I was approached by two Peace Corps. members working in Yap and Pohnpei who happened to live in Lancaster, Pa. and North Jersey. Even after bonding over our East coast origins, we stood outside the gym for quite some time – which for me seemed like an eternity of English, emotions and bottled up frustrations that given this outlet, came spilling out. To be able to talk, and have someone respond, to be able to divulge and have someone relate, to be able to be honest and have someone listen….face to face… was a luxury and an intimacy that I had longed for…

While I still have doubts about simply resorting to the easy way out – an environment that was more comfortable to escape to, I’m not certain I would have made it through another 8 days similar to the way I felt throughout the first 2!! And I think finding some sort of comfort helped me to appreciate the uncomfortable that much more – taking each moment in stride and reveling in the little victories…….and the more significant victories...

The last night on the track drew quite a crowd as people came out of the woodworks to watch the relays….the thrilling conclusion to any track meet. On the girls 4X100, the anchor leg was a silver medal winner in the 200M and a 100M finalist and led the ladies to a bronze. The gentlemen’s 4X100 relay showcased Chuuk’s very own gold medalist in the 100M – Jack Howard – one of two lightning fast Howard’s that have become legendary throughout Micronesia. And in the 4X400 the ladies took home a silver, and again Jack Howard along with another infamous runner Donis Rudolf, hurdler Steve and rising legend Tete captured yet another gold for Chuuk. Of course the Chuuk tent erupted in shouting, cheering and dancing numerous times in celebration of our victories!! But perhaps the greatest moment of glory…..sending chills up and down my spine was to remove my hat and sing along to the Chuuk National Anthem as they raised the flag above our 4 athletes. That moment, being the closest I will ever get to standing on an Olympic medal stand will forever be one of my proudest….

As I’m fairly certain this blog entry is of novella length, I will begin my descent back to reality….Looking back on this trip I’ve come to realize that to learn what I’ve learned, there was only one way – and that was the hard way. While I haven’t given up on my Chuukese, I still am not quite sure how to say the following:

Thank you for being patient with me. I know it is frustrating. Thank you for repeating yourself six times and then breaking down the sentence word by word I just want to learn to speak to you in your language. Thank you for your blank stares – indication that what I just said made no sense - it is a constant reminder of the humility I must maintain. Thank you for accepting me in spite of my ignorance, and for treating me as your own – even though to you I am hardly a child. Thank you for the times you gave up on me – it forces me to work harder.