Not to make a mockery of such a legendary figure – but perhaps more to make a mockery of myself – being cut off from all previous ways of life as a sole means of learning. ….After a night of restless sleep due to cockroaches, heat and mosquitoes who I swear know that buzzing right in my hear is perhaps my greatest pet peeve, I woke up with Nanar to prepare breakfast to find that the larvae that had been multiplying in the pig slop bucket on the counter had escaped and were not mobilizing forces throughout the kitchen. I was relieved when Nanar was also grossed out, though it took her much longer to make the discovery. We ate breakfast together and by the time we were finished, cleaned up and took care of the chores it was time to start preparing lunch. It is amazing how much of the day is consumed by cooking and eating.
We ate lunch with Mama Lucy, who allowed me into a corner of her soul when she began to break down as she related her fondest memories of her mother…and how when growing up with ten siblings there was not always enough resources to go around….which was especially surprising to hear that in a place where nobody goes hungry, often times there was no food on the table. She told of how even though she has plenty now – food for the table and a beautiful house – she always remembers how hard her mother and father worked for her…
Trying to fend off tears myself – I felt horrible for feeling so sorry for myself….wondering how I was going to make it through 2 weeks living in a place that she took so much pride in. Even though I would never express my frustrations, the fact that I had even entertained such thoughts is an embarrassment to my character.
After a candlelit dinner of salt fish, canned fish and rice, I never though I could have so much fun with three little girls, hanging our feet off the deck, singing in Chuukese and admiring the small specks of night sky that poked through the blanket of stars. Peksina and Kipsina are two of the most darling little girls who live next-door, about two steps from Mama Lucy and their precious voices are still ringing in my ears. It bodes well for me that most of my days center around children no older than 12. Not only am I a little kid trapped inside a 23 year old body, I think it’s perhaps the most effective way of learning Chuukese, because they don’t know any other way. They talk at me in Chuukese – sometimes I understand, sometimes I don’t but somehow we still understand each other. If I wasn’t around these kids all day – I don’t think I would learn a blessed thing! Well, I would but it would be like pulling teeth!! They are always talking, always laughing and sometimes they really don’t even need “you” to have a conversation – they just talk talk talk till they’re blue in the face. I often feel like I take the easy way out by playing with them instead of attempting to engage in adult conversation!
While I went to sleep feeling like I knew so much more at the end of the day than I did at the beginning, I still think of myself as quite blind, even more deaf and very dumb…blind in the sense that I had no idea what was before me when I agreed to this two week immersion. I knew that if I ever wanted to learn I needed to be physically removed from my routine, though I was quite oblivious to anything else – maybe a blessing in disguise. Deaf in the sense that even after a whole day of “progress” learning the language, my prayers still end in “Please, please, please help me help me help me help me,” and dumb in the sense that it is still so uncomfortable and I don’t feel at home at all. In spite of everyone’s more than generous hospitality I feel as though I’m overly concerned with the border between accepting hospitality as a gracious guest and taking on responsibilities as an honorary member of the family…I am perfectly independent enough to cook for myself, but Chuukese don’t’ eat spaghetti – they eat ramen. And chores that seem easy such as dish washing become a process when someone needs to show me how to fetch water from the catchment, fill the wash bins and rinse dishes in the proper order. Six year old girls are showing me how to do chores – I’m helplessly pathetic.
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