*What you are about to read is dreadfully long, and while there is not many things in life I will say this about, there is no shame in not finishing!!
When discerning my post-college plans, I was lured to JVI by the intrigue of what a new culture had to offer – food, landscape, dress, language. It sounds beautiful….a whole new world to explore….a romantic ideal that is anything but idyllic. When I set out for Chuuk, I was determined to learn the language and I think a year ago, if I knew what lay ahead of me, I might have just thrown in the towel at the start. After hours worth of flashcards, tape recorders, memorization, word lists, dictionaries, bible translations, questions galore, tutors, Chuukese class with Freshman, listening and unnatural conversation my language skills are still abysmal and reveal very little of how much I really do care, how hard I have worked just to be able to say the little that I do know, how much I want to be able to know them, how much I want them to know me for who I am, and not just the next white person passing through, how much I love them and how grateful I truly am for their acceptance.
Perhaps it’s not even so much knowing the language itself, as it is the principle of the matter…the fact that I can survive in Chuuk for a year, and JV’s have survived in Chuuk for countless years without ever learning to speak the language, means that someone – and by someone I mean nearly an entire state of people have gone out of their way to learn our language. Out of respect, sensitivity and gratitude, I feel as though I owe it to them to learn theirs… I feel as though in doing so, I can only hope to show them that I genuinely want to be a part of their lives as much as they have become a part of mine.
As hard as the struggle is, perhaps the (I’m going to steal a quote from the beautiful Murphdawg for this one) “Yay God!” in all of this is that I have not given up finding joy and value in the struggle…Even though I was frustrated to tears in Saipan, even though I make a complete fool out of myself multiple times a day, even though I often times want to put my head through a wall in hopes that the hole left by the impact might expedite the flow of information into my head, even though so many times I just want to stop where I am because it’s easier…. I know that this is the Lord’s way of pushing me and if this is the heaviest of my burdens during my two years out here, then I should not complain because I got off easy. Finding beauty in the process has allowed me to appreciate the baby steps and the tiny accomplishments of the day that to anyone else would be imperceptible, instead of measuring success by palpable satisfaction. It has been an even greater reminder of the beauty of the human spirit, who in spite of arrogance, cultural differences, assumptions and naivety continues to love unconditionally. The desultory journey has led me down perhaps what has been the most humbling road I’ve ever traversed, ultimately blurring the line between privileged and poor such that I am in no position to look upon anyone with condescension. In fact, I almost expect them to look at ME disdainfully as I make a mockery of the language in my weak attempts to fumble through a few sentences…..And the “Yay God!” in that, is that they don’t. In spite of my mistakes, my disgrace and my inadequacy they don’t. My frustration and disappointment in myself more often than not comes from within and is compounded by the need to repay their generosity, patience and love in the only way I know how. Unfortunately, it is a gift that I cannot requite with the grace and abundance with which it is bestowed.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Untitled
After being counseled by several people who convinced me that staying at Xavier was not the way to learn Chuukese – that I had to spend time with people in an environment where I was forced to listen and speak, I heeded their advice and opted to venture beyond these cozy walls. Antonia, our secretary, my tutor, and perhaps one of the most patient ladies I know arranged so that I could stay with one of her relatives for two weeks on the island of Uman – about a 45 min boat ride from the main island Weno. Antonia, three of her daughters, and a few of us who have been staying here at Xavier for the summer went out and stayed for the weekend. Mama Lucy and Papa Alex put all of us up in their ocean front home located literally on the water such that you look down out of the back windows and there is the Pacific ocean beneath you. As my English speaking lifelines sailed away that Sunday afternoon, I looked down and felt like the land had been swept out from under me and I was just trying to stay afloat.
Day 1 - Sunday
I look around and there is just (I apologize for the profanity, but there is really no other alternative, more appropriate word) shit everywhere. The ocean is just a public disposal service that doesn’t charge tax and as I watched the boat dissolve into a speck and disappear behind the surrounding islands, I am beginning to feel the reality of my decision set in – intrusive thoughts that if I would have given credence to before I left might have been compelling enough to dissuade me from coming. I have to be Chuukese. While I realize the paradox in that statement - that I can never actually be Chuukese - for this week, I don’t have a choice – and in the midst of this daunting challenge is where I find my “metaphorical (again I apologize) shit” everywhere – those things that jade my outlook for the next two weeks.
I’m already harboring a heated battle within my conscience between the voice that says “You’re almost there don’t give up now” and “DAMNIT Trunce you are never going to get this.” I’m going to be perfectly honest – it sucks…it is so hard and I know the next 2 weeks are going to require breathing in and breathing out numerous times a day… However, I’m beginning to realize that what I thought would be the greatest challenge – language – seems minute. When I put it all in perspective, I have a personal, spunky 12-year-old tutor (Nanar – Antonia’s daughter stayed behind with me) who is at the perfect age where she’s not afraid to correct me, but smart enough to know she needs to speak slow and repeat. There are children dangling from every tree in the village who really need no standard language for communication, and there are babies who can silently, mindlessly grip your pinkie finger with such passion while grown adults can barely muster enough strength to offer a firm handshake – communication seems to be the least of my problems….
I can’t decide if it’s frustration or gaining a new appreciation for patience. It is one of THE hardest things for me to do – just be. Just sit around. Even for me sitting around is not just sitting around because I’m either listening, speaking or thinking in Chuukese. But for those who already know Chuukese, which is everyone – sitting around seems to be the favorite pastime here and while it in some respects is beautiful, it is absolutely impossible for me– accepting the fact that there is truly nothing else that I need to be doing right now. I don’t know if I can ever say I had a moment like that never mind a lifetime of moments.
The Chuukese lifestyle – simple – different – that is a little harder to adopt – a lifestyle where water is a precious commodity, never mind running water. Refrigerator? Don’t have. Trashcan? Just toss it in the ocean, instead of diapers, babies just pee on the floor, barefoot is the preferred means of transportation – Cars? Don’t have. Hot dogs for breakfast, fingerprints in the breadfruit, outdoor showerhouse – bucket shower, washing dishes with laundry detergent. Soap? Don’t have. Lice cleanings are a family event. Expectorating, flatulating and whatever euphemism there is for nose-picking are not socially taboo. Brush you teeth? I’m embarrassed I have toothpaste – the teeth are rotting out of these kids mouths. Electricity? Don’t have – except for the generator. But really what do you need it for except the daily evening viewing of pirated Jet Li films? First bell for 9:00 mass rings at 9:28 and mass proceeds to start at 10:45…but really what else do you have to do today – the taro will grow itself and the porch will clean itself if it rains.
Comfortable? The comfort in all that is that this is one of the nicest places on Uman. Furthermore, this is not about comfort, but solidarity and this by far is the most “solidified” (I think I just made that word up for the context it is intended to be used) I have ever been. Even with that in mind, this morning when my mind first entered into the consciousness of where I was, I couldn’t help but beg the Lord for just another 5 minutes – I was not ready to get out there and face the day yet. I was not ready to speak Chuukese, be stared at, and pretend I know how to assimilate. In my search for joy in the struggle, I’ve clearly stumbled upon an insolence in myself that I’m not too pleased with….to be bothered by such things so much that I care to complain about them…..
I’m already harboring a heated battle within my conscience between the voice that says “You’re almost there don’t give up now” and “DAMNIT Trunce you are never going to get this.” I’m going to be perfectly honest – it sucks…it is so hard and I know the next 2 weeks are going to require breathing in and breathing out numerous times a day… However, I’m beginning to realize that what I thought would be the greatest challenge – language – seems minute. When I put it all in perspective, I have a personal, spunky 12-year-old tutor (Nanar – Antonia’s daughter stayed behind with me) who is at the perfect age where she’s not afraid to correct me, but smart enough to know she needs to speak slow and repeat. There are children dangling from every tree in the village who really need no standard language for communication, and there are babies who can silently, mindlessly grip your pinkie finger with such passion while grown adults can barely muster enough strength to offer a firm handshake – communication seems to be the least of my problems….
I can’t decide if it’s frustration or gaining a new appreciation for patience. It is one of THE hardest things for me to do – just be. Just sit around. Even for me sitting around is not just sitting around because I’m either listening, speaking or thinking in Chuukese. But for those who already know Chuukese, which is everyone – sitting around seems to be the favorite pastime here and while it in some respects is beautiful, it is absolutely impossible for me– accepting the fact that there is truly nothing else that I need to be doing right now. I don’t know if I can ever say I had a moment like that never mind a lifetime of moments.
The Chuukese lifestyle – simple – different – that is a little harder to adopt – a lifestyle where water is a precious commodity, never mind running water. Refrigerator? Don’t have. Trashcan? Just toss it in the ocean, instead of diapers, babies just pee on the floor, barefoot is the preferred means of transportation – Cars? Don’t have. Hot dogs for breakfast, fingerprints in the breadfruit, outdoor showerhouse – bucket shower, washing dishes with laundry detergent. Soap? Don’t have. Lice cleanings are a family event. Expectorating, flatulating and whatever euphemism there is for nose-picking are not socially taboo. Brush you teeth? I’m embarrassed I have toothpaste – the teeth are rotting out of these kids mouths. Electricity? Don’t have – except for the generator. But really what do you need it for except the daily evening viewing of pirated Jet Li films? First bell for 9:00 mass rings at 9:28 and mass proceeds to start at 10:45…but really what else do you have to do today – the taro will grow itself and the porch will clean itself if it rains.
Comfortable? The comfort in all that is that this is one of the nicest places on Uman. Furthermore, this is not about comfort, but solidarity and this by far is the most “solidified” (I think I just made that word up for the context it is intended to be used) I have ever been. Even with that in mind, this morning when my mind first entered into the consciousness of where I was, I couldn’t help but beg the Lord for just another 5 minutes – I was not ready to get out there and face the day yet. I was not ready to speak Chuukese, be stared at, and pretend I know how to assimilate. In my search for joy in the struggle, I’ve clearly stumbled upon an insolence in myself that I’m not too pleased with….to be bothered by such things so much that I care to complain about them…..
Day 2 of the Helen Keller Experiment - Monday
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.
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.
Day 4 – Wednesday
Minute by minute, the time passes and though I can almost hear through the frivolity and boredom each second ticking by – my absorption of Chuukese is exponential – though what I consider exponential is still nothing I deserve a medal for…..still inadequate, still shy of perfection (ha ha perfection) still blind, still deaf, still dumb. But the desire has not waned. (This is beginning to sound like a page out of Dances With Wolves – now there is a character I can relate to!!)
Even in spite of the moments where the brain shuts off and nothing enters or leaves, the desire has not diminished. I love just hearing Chuukese – just being around it is wonderful – of course often times it feels more like eavesdropping…and I try quickly avoid their glance when they catch me! I am beginning to understand words – they are no longer just a string of sounds in rapid succession – but words – most of whose meaning I can understand. Now garnering meaning from various combinations of these words…that is my next task.
That – while still maintaining sanity – the sedentary lifestyle in all honesty is driving me crazy. I’m trying to enjoy what it feels like to do nothing – to have nothing to do but all I want to do is run around, run around the island, play basketball, but Nanar is “chipwang” and I’m not yet confident enough or brave enough to take on the island alone – nor is it the safest idea.
Even in spite of the moments where the brain shuts off and nothing enters or leaves, the desire has not diminished. I love just hearing Chuukese – just being around it is wonderful – of course often times it feels more like eavesdropping…and I try quickly avoid their glance when they catch me! I am beginning to understand words – they are no longer just a string of sounds in rapid succession – but words – most of whose meaning I can understand. Now garnering meaning from various combinations of these words…that is my next task.
That – while still maintaining sanity – the sedentary lifestyle in all honesty is driving me crazy. I’m trying to enjoy what it feels like to do nothing – to have nothing to do but all I want to do is run around, run around the island, play basketball, but Nanar is “chipwang” and I’m not yet confident enough or brave enough to take on the island alone – nor is it the safest idea.
Day 6 – Friday 1:00 PM
Just when I was getting comfortable, He had to go and test me…We left the comforts of Uman to go back to Weno for a family party. While I live on Weno, nothing was familiar, anything that used to be familiar seemed so distant as we rode a taxi up to Mama Lucy’s Aunty’s house….and I’m plunged back into this world where I allow myself not to exist and desperately listen to indistinguishable noises flying back and forth identifying nothing more than the very general gist of the conversation if I’m lucky. I feel like I should know so much more than I do. Am I just an idiot or is it really this hard??? Quite honestly this sucks! It’s hours of work, memorization, looking like a FOOL and magnified because I’m doing it the hard way….worth it? I’m having my doubts.
(I’m just going to preface this by saying I realize the following is quite cavalier but I simply need an outlet to vent.)
Sitting around…kukknou… how I loathe the word. I’m really not sure how much more I can take of this. All I want to do is go run around, do some sort of project – I don’t know watch paint dry or grass grow. All we do is eat and eating – don’t even get me started…I feel like I’ve eaten so much salt that my brain is now iodized. Eat and sit…eat and sit….oh eat now? I can’t eat I’m busy sitting….oh we better hurry up and finish eating because that’s cutting into our DOING NOTHING. Rest – here lay down if you want to take a rest….take a rest? You’ve got to be kidding – take a rest from what? I haven’t done anything that warrants taking a rest…I woke up from a luxurious 8+ hours of rest, ate, sat in a boat, sat on a bus, and now I’m sitting on you couch and I should be tied? You know what – my ass is a little tired!! I realize they don’t see a problem with this and it is a cultural phenomenon but I guess my mind is too dangerous to be left idle that long.
I feel like the Chuukese are kind of stuck in no man’s land. In a previous life, everything was simple. The only real education a person needed was the know-how to climb a coconut tree, skin a fish, grate tapioca, weave a skirt, tie a thuu and build a hut. It was a world where the clan you are born into determines you status and the size of your land, and medicine grows in the wild. With the introduction of western culture inexorably comes a need for money to buy and along with that the possibility to achieve…and so the citizens of Chuuk are now stuck in the middle deciding between enjoying the easy going, not a care in the world lifestyle and desiring the luxuries acquired though a good-paying job…and so the culture clash leaves behind a collective work ethic where things get done when I get to them, it really doesn’t matter if I show up for work today, I need to rest, someone else will take care of it if I don’t and that’s just the way things are – there’s really nothing I can do about it. A work ethic that we as Americans would label as lazy and unmotivated….While I think it’s utterly shameful to stereotype and entire people especially so negatively….I feel as though (and I realize it is an audacious statement to make) if they want to adopt the western lifestyle, they have to swallow it all….I don’t think there is anything wrong with sitting around enjoying life if your future consists of cutting down banana trees and cracking coconuts. You don’t need an education and perhaps it is better not to corrupt a free spirit with one. But succeeding in a western way of life is inextricably tied up with education, hard work and the motivation to better oneself. I cannot help but want them to receive the opportunities and education to do so… and become easily frustrated when I cannot “force” them to stay in school, stop using drugs, or convince administrators to take an interest in students. And what’s even more frustrating is that even if the opportunities where available, maybe a handful would take advantage of them. When I was on summer break my mother had me reading, memorizing multiplication tables, studying vocabulary and practicing SAT tests – every minute was another chance to get ahead. And as I look around at a street lined with kids of varying ages squatting idly staring off into an unattainable horizon, I cannot help but want something better for them….and perhaps I’ve just been in Chuuk long enough for some of the Chuukese work ethic to seep in – but how much can I really do? How ardently should I campaign for these western ideals?
I think Nanar is tired of being patient with me and quite honestly I’m tired of being patient with myself. While I’ve never been one to wish my life away, there’s a small part of me counting down the days until I can STOP! Till I can stop feeling awkward and be comfortable. I’m tired of being completely dependent, having people telling me what to do because basic commands are easy to understand. I’m tired of having people knowing when I’m showering, what I’m eating, what I’m doing – I want my independence back. I want my personality back. I can’t even be myself. Nobody knows the true me. I wanted so badly to say something – say anything to Kimenta (one of my athletes who I saw in the store downtown) to show her I care and was beyond excited to see her darling face and nothing came out but awkward silence and a look that I pray spoke louder than words, or lack thereof. I’m tired of being called PisCor, fefin, sense Xavier, fin Merika, Chon Merika, and sometimes just Merika. I have a name. I’m tired of having people ask a fin-Chuuk what it is and asking them if I speak Chuukese. Ask me. And I know it is just out of courtesy but people just assume that because I’m white I don’t know how to speak - even if I ask them kindly to please speak to me in Chuukese. I know they have every reason to assume that because it’s not often that anyone cares to learn their language. But I know a little and how am I supposed to learn if you won’t help me?? I’m tired of accepting hospitality and not having anything to give in return – and even worse not being able to express even a fraction of my gratitude. They welcome you in, shower you with food till you pass out, hand made skits, a place to stay, shower, amenities and nothing…..absolutely nothing…
(I’m just going to preface this by saying I realize the following is quite cavalier but I simply need an outlet to vent.)
Sitting around…kukknou… how I loathe the word. I’m really not sure how much more I can take of this. All I want to do is go run around, do some sort of project – I don’t know watch paint dry or grass grow. All we do is eat and eating – don’t even get me started…I feel like I’ve eaten so much salt that my brain is now iodized. Eat and sit…eat and sit….oh eat now? I can’t eat I’m busy sitting….oh we better hurry up and finish eating because that’s cutting into our DOING NOTHING. Rest – here lay down if you want to take a rest….take a rest? You’ve got to be kidding – take a rest from what? I haven’t done anything that warrants taking a rest…I woke up from a luxurious 8+ hours of rest, ate, sat in a boat, sat on a bus, and now I’m sitting on you couch and I should be tied? You know what – my ass is a little tired!! I realize they don’t see a problem with this and it is a cultural phenomenon but I guess my mind is too dangerous to be left idle that long.
I feel like the Chuukese are kind of stuck in no man’s land. In a previous life, everything was simple. The only real education a person needed was the know-how to climb a coconut tree, skin a fish, grate tapioca, weave a skirt, tie a thuu and build a hut. It was a world where the clan you are born into determines you status and the size of your land, and medicine grows in the wild. With the introduction of western culture inexorably comes a need for money to buy and along with that the possibility to achieve…and so the citizens of Chuuk are now stuck in the middle deciding between enjoying the easy going, not a care in the world lifestyle and desiring the luxuries acquired though a good-paying job…and so the culture clash leaves behind a collective work ethic where things get done when I get to them, it really doesn’t matter if I show up for work today, I need to rest, someone else will take care of it if I don’t and that’s just the way things are – there’s really nothing I can do about it. A work ethic that we as Americans would label as lazy and unmotivated….While I think it’s utterly shameful to stereotype and entire people especially so negatively….I feel as though (and I realize it is an audacious statement to make) if they want to adopt the western lifestyle, they have to swallow it all….I don’t think there is anything wrong with sitting around enjoying life if your future consists of cutting down banana trees and cracking coconuts. You don’t need an education and perhaps it is better not to corrupt a free spirit with one. But succeeding in a western way of life is inextricably tied up with education, hard work and the motivation to better oneself. I cannot help but want them to receive the opportunities and education to do so… and become easily frustrated when I cannot “force” them to stay in school, stop using drugs, or convince administrators to take an interest in students. And what’s even more frustrating is that even if the opportunities where available, maybe a handful would take advantage of them. When I was on summer break my mother had me reading, memorizing multiplication tables, studying vocabulary and practicing SAT tests – every minute was another chance to get ahead. And as I look around at a street lined with kids of varying ages squatting idly staring off into an unattainable horizon, I cannot help but want something better for them….and perhaps I’ve just been in Chuuk long enough for some of the Chuukese work ethic to seep in – but how much can I really do? How ardently should I campaign for these western ideals?
I think Nanar is tired of being patient with me and quite honestly I’m tired of being patient with myself. While I’ve never been one to wish my life away, there’s a small part of me counting down the days until I can STOP! Till I can stop feeling awkward and be comfortable. I’m tired of being completely dependent, having people telling me what to do because basic commands are easy to understand. I’m tired of having people knowing when I’m showering, what I’m eating, what I’m doing – I want my independence back. I want my personality back. I can’t even be myself. Nobody knows the true me. I wanted so badly to say something – say anything to Kimenta (one of my athletes who I saw in the store downtown) to show her I care and was beyond excited to see her darling face and nothing came out but awkward silence and a look that I pray spoke louder than words, or lack thereof. I’m tired of being called PisCor, fefin, sense Xavier, fin Merika, Chon Merika, and sometimes just Merika. I have a name. I’m tired of having people ask a fin-Chuuk what it is and asking them if I speak Chuukese. Ask me. And I know it is just out of courtesy but people just assume that because I’m white I don’t know how to speak - even if I ask them kindly to please speak to me in Chuukese. I know they have every reason to assume that because it’s not often that anyone cares to learn their language. But I know a little and how am I supposed to learn if you won’t help me?? I’m tired of accepting hospitality and not having anything to give in return – and even worse not being able to express even a fraction of my gratitude. They welcome you in, shower you with food till you pass out, hand made skits, a place to stay, shower, amenities and nothing…..absolutely nothing…
Day 6 – Friday 10:00 PM
Moments of joy and moments of desperation – an endless cycle. I got to witness in all it’s glory the slaughtering of a pig – from the binding, to the suffocating, to the skinning to the dismembering to the gutting – the whole grand process. While I thought I would cringe in disgust, it actually turned out to be a really beautiful family event with everyone crowded around a bulb generating light through a wire hooked up to a car battery, blood being washed off the pavement, the smell of freshly severed limbs boiling on the fire, puppies rolling around bickering, mom’s sharpening the knives, dad, son and cousin are skinning and slicing, daughter is fetching water, onlookers enjoy the view, hyperactive child wielding a machete just wants to help, Chuukese flying every which way – and there’s me – as life is very real around me, what makes the experience surreal is that I just don’t exist – I’m watching, listening, thinking and reflecting…they don’t need me there – I don’t know the first thing about pig slaughter – I am of no use – of no help yet they let me in….they let me in anyway.
I don’t know how He does it….but He always finds a way to leave me breathless and this time in a shared affinity for John Michael Montgomery…
“Life’s a dance you learn as you go,
Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow,
Don’t worry about what you don’t know,
Life’s a dance you learn as you go….”
I don’t know how He does it….but He always finds a way to leave me breathless and this time in a shared affinity for John Michael Montgomery…
“Life’s a dance you learn as you go,
Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow,
Don’t worry about what you don’t know,
Life’s a dance you learn as you go….”
Day 9 - Monday
Perhaps my cries for help did not go unanswered as my time out on Uman was cut short. While I know that there are reasons, my reaction of genuine disappointment that I could not stay longer was proof of my progress and attachment. Just as the moments of “I get this” outnumber the moments where “I hate this,” I’m forced to leave and regress back to where I was before I left Xavier…
But Mama Lucy did invite me back anytime I wanted to come – perhaps for Christmas and New Year’s…. hopefully I’ll be able to bring something with me this time…as I was leaving, I asked what I could bring or do and was answered with Chuukese words for little girls hair clips, shampoo, lotion, perfume, a little basketball and a stuffed mouse….
Perhaps there is something about the boat ride that evokes reflection…maybe being surrounded by massive slopes that are not even specks on a map remind you of how small you truly are….but returning to Xavier sheds such different light on my experience. While I am in no place to comment on the accuracy of my Chuukese, if nothing else, my confidence has improved. Maybe confidence isn’t the right word. Maybe I’m just not as embarrassed to make a fool out of myself like I used to be. And now all I want to do is speak Chuukese. My first instinct is to translate my thoughts into Chuukese regardless of who I am speaking to – not to show off by any means but to practice. Now all I want to do is leave Xavier and be in a place where they only speak Chuukese. As I look back over this and eventually conclude this epic saga ( I swear only a few lines more!) - even though I cannot say it was all positive, the “Yay God!” is that my desire to endeavor has not led me to crash and burn but has left me at the point where I just want to know more……and the cycle continues.
But Mama Lucy did invite me back anytime I wanted to come – perhaps for Christmas and New Year’s…. hopefully I’ll be able to bring something with me this time…as I was leaving, I asked what I could bring or do and was answered with Chuukese words for little girls hair clips, shampoo, lotion, perfume, a little basketball and a stuffed mouse….
Perhaps there is something about the boat ride that evokes reflection…maybe being surrounded by massive slopes that are not even specks on a map remind you of how small you truly are….but returning to Xavier sheds such different light on my experience. While I am in no place to comment on the accuracy of my Chuukese, if nothing else, my confidence has improved. Maybe confidence isn’t the right word. Maybe I’m just not as embarrassed to make a fool out of myself like I used to be. And now all I want to do is speak Chuukese. My first instinct is to translate my thoughts into Chuukese regardless of who I am speaking to – not to show off by any means but to practice. Now all I want to do is leave Xavier and be in a place where they only speak Chuukese. As I look back over this and eventually conclude this epic saga ( I swear only a few lines more!) - even though I cannot say it was all positive, the “Yay God!” is that my desire to endeavor has not led me to crash and burn but has left me at the point where I just want to know more……and the cycle continues.
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