| You Say: | God Says: | Proof: |
| "It's impossible" | All things are possible | (Luke 18:27) |
| "Nobody really loves me" | I love you | (John 3:16 & John 13:34) |
| "I can't go on" | My grace is sufficient | (II Corinthians |
| "I can't figure things out" | I will direct your steps | (Proverbs 3:5-6) |
| "I can't do it" | You can do all things | (Philippians 4:13) |
| "I'm not able" | I am able | (II Corinthians 9:8) |
| "It's not worth it" | It will be worth it | (Roman 8:28) |
| "I can't forgive myself" | I FORGIVE YOU | (I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1) |
| "I can't manage" | I will supply all your needs | (Philippians 4:19) |
| "I'm afraid" | I have not given you a spirit of fear | (II Timothy1:7) |
| "I'm always worried and frustrated" | Cast all your cares on ME | (I Peter 5:7) |
| "I don't have enough faith" | I've given everyone a measure of faith | (Romans 12:3) |
| "I'm not smart enough" | I give you wisdom | (I Corinthians 1:30) |
| "I feel all alone" | I will never leave you or forsake you | (Hebrews13:5) |
Saturday, September 30, 2006
You asked for proof…
My darling Lu-A never ceases to amaze me…..
My lifelong aspiration…..
By conservative estimates, Mata Amritanandamayi, known simply as “Amma,” has given more than 26 million hugs. This may not seem so unusual to Angelenos accustomed to greeting with an embrace, but in Amma’s native
Born to a poor fishing family in Kerala, Amma witnessed deep pain and poverty while growing up. While still very young, she concluded that the world’s problems were rooted in a “shortage of love.” Her solution to this disturbing condition was to pledge her life as an offering.
Over the past 35 years, Amma’s reputation has grown as a result of her charitable work. She has been compared to Mother Teresa and Gandhi for her devotion to the poor—providing food, shelter, hospitals and schools. Sleeping merely a couple of hours each day, she teaches by the constant example of her own life, emphasizing selfless social service. Amma is considered a living saint in her homeland.
On May 2, the Interfaith Center of New York bestowed the Annual James Parks Morton Interfaith Award on Amma, India’s “Hugging Saint” and five other global humanitarians including Noble Peace Prize Laureate Dr. Mohammed Elbaradei; Supreme Court Justice Stephen G. Breyer; actor and Healing the Divide Director Richard Gere; Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf and Daisy Khan, Executive Director of the American Society for Muslim Advancement.
Despite the prestige attached to the award, for Amma, the most important prize is “the happiness of people.”
WLT met with Amma for a rare interview on the day after the award ceremonies. She spoke in her native Malayalam dialect and her responses were translated into English.
After the awards ceremony,
Whether it is in
People are born to be loved. They live for love. Yet, a famine of love plagues the world. When Amma embraces people, it is not just physical contact that is taking place. The love I feel for all of creation flows towards each person who comes to me. That pure vibration of love purifies people, and this helps them in their inner awakening and spiritual growth. It helps both men and women awaken to the qualities associated with motherhood, which are severely lacking in today’s world.
This year, in
I am used to big crowds. Everyone who is patient enough to wait will get darshan. Sometimes I will give darshan to around 40,000 people, sitting for 24 hours straight. Even what is considered a big crowd in
As long as I can continue to reach out to those who come to me, as long as I have the strength to caress people, console them and wipe away their tears, I will continue to do so. One day, everyone’s body will die. This is inevitable. Therefore, rather than allowing our bodies to rust from lack of use, it is better to wear them out in service to the world. Where there is true love, there is no feeling of burden. For example, a maid finds the task of looking after another’s child burdensome, but for the mother of the child, it is not so. The love for the child is natural.
You often say, “Compassion to the poor is our duty to God.” What do you mean by this statement?
Just as the sun doesn’t need a candle’s light, so too God doesn’t need anything from us. But we should come down to the level of the poor and needy, try to understand their pain and serve them in any way we can. For me, there is no such thing as a God living up on some throne in heaven. God is the all-pervading Consciousness that throbs in everyone and everything. My God is each and every one of you—all the people, plants, animals, trees, mountains, rivers…. This is Amma’s God.
In Sanatana Dharma [Hinduism], the Creator and Creation are not two. The ocean and its waves are not two. There is water in both the ocean and its waves. Gold, the golden earring and the golden necklace are not different. Likewise, we worship everything in nature, seeing God in everything. Our prayer is Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu (“May all beings in all the worlds be happy”). When we see the entire world as a manifestation of God, will we allow anyone to go without food, shelter, medicine or clothing? No, of course not. This is how we should serve the world—seeing all as embodiments of God.
We human beings seem so selfish. Can we overcome that through meditation?
Our true nature is not one of selfishness, but one of love and compassion. We just need to realize this and awaken to that truth. The problem is that people are not really asleep, but only pretending to be asleep. If they were truly asleep, it would be easy to wake them up. But it is nearly impossible to wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep.
Our selfishness and the resulting selfish actions that spring from it are due to our identification with the ego, the sense of “I” and “mine.” Thinking of ourselves as limited, incomplete individuals, we naturally struggle to gain and maintain the things we feel we need to be happy. In reality, we are the eternal, ever-blissful Self, full and complete. But currently, our minds are not pure enough to imbibe this truth. Divinity is everyone, but it is expressed more in people with pure hearts. Electricity is the same, but it manifests differently depending on the capacity of the medium. There are 1000-watt, 50-watt and zero-watt bulbs. Similarly, the more pure your mind, the more divinity manifests within you.
Spiritual practices such as meditation and selfless service are essential to purify your mind. It’s like cleaning the vessel before you pour in the milk. If the vessel is not clean, the milk will spoil.
It is not possible for everyone to meditate with one-pointed concentration all the time. Therefore, I recommend that people spend their extra time trying to do something beneficial for the world. This way, everyone benefits. The goal of spiritual life is to understand our fundamental oneness—with one another and with God. Only when this realization takes place will we be truly content and happy. But this philosophy should not be limited to mere words. It should reflect in our actions. It must be brought into the heart and practiced. If we truly believe everyone to be one with our own self, then we should reach out to caress the suffering as quickly as we would apply a bandage to our own injured hand.
There is no precedent for an individual expressing compassion the way you do—embracing upwards of 26 million times. Do you think the world is more accepting of this from a female?
First, God is neither male nor female. If anything, God can only be referred to as “That.” God is the Consciousness that throbs in all objects and beings. But if you really want to give a gender to God then God is more of a She than a He because “She” contains “He.” The need today is for the awakening of qualities associated with motherhood—love, compassion, acceptance and patience. I want to awaken such qualities in humanity. Only a true mother who can love everyone as her own children can be a true humanitarian and serve the world selflessly.
Between global warming and terrorism, there could be an endless succession of disasters. Are you concerned about the future?
We should never fall victim to pessimism. Patience, optimistic faith and enthusiasm are essential in life, and we must always strive to cultivate these qualities and keep them alive in our hearts. In many ways, people are becoming more and more aware of the need for a spiritual way of living. Spirituality is the very essence of all religions and, in its essence, it is the path of love and compassion.
If there is a one-word solution for all the problems in today’s world, it is compassion. Only love and compassion can solve the problem of terrorism and bloodshed.
Most people today are blinded by ego. There are two types of ego. One is the ego of power and money, but the second type is more destructive. That is the ego that says, “My religion and viewpoint alone are correct. All others are wrong. I will not tolerate anything else.” This is like saying, “My mother is good; yours is a whore!” Unless we eradicate these two types of ego, it will be difficult to bring about peace in the world.
The willingness to listen to others, the ability to understand them and the broad-mindedness to accept even those who disagree with us—these are the signs of true spiritual culture. Unfortunately, these qualities are exactly what are missing from the world today.
The greatest enemy the world faces is poverty. Prostitution, terrorism and much of the other violence are, to a great extent, caused by poverty. There are two types of poverty: the lack of food, clothing and shelter, and the lack of love and compassion. If we can eliminate the later, the former will automatically be taken care of. For when people have love and compassion in their hearts, they will spontaneously and wholeheartedly reach out to help those without food, clothing and shelter.
Taken from: http://wholelifetimes.com/2006/06/amma0606.html
Imagine if this was your purpose in life. The reason you were created was to hug people. A gesture that seems so simple yet one people can throw around carelessly. The simple, the precious – hug…..could there be a more beautiful calling?
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The Everyday...
One month has flown by. One year has flown by. Here we sit, the seven of us in
Although Lincoln and Marcos live a few miles away and teach at a different high school, we all get together on Wednesday evenings for some JV bonding. Recently, we decided to check in with each other in the form of a roses/thorns question. In other words, what's been going well and not so well. The following with give you a little rundown of how we're all doing.
AJ is the moderator for the Student Senate at Xavier. There are about thirty members and there were twelve boys who were removed from their positions due to a disciplinary violation at the end of last school year. AJ was responsible for telling them that they were fired. This was his recent "thorn" because he was not sure how they would react- or what the upcoming years' Senate was going to do to replace these young gentlemen. However, his "rose" was that after relaying this news, the boys handled it very well and maturely. They were aware that they had chosen to break the rules, and recognized that they should be punished accordingly. A teacher's best happy: a lessoned learned.
Chris's "thorn" was having lots of time to get work prepared for the past few weeks and no deadlines to actually force him to get that work completed. A few hours of meetings a day, reading a bit about upcoming courses, going swimming, repairing guitars, and cleaning his office have not made him focus on the beginning of school. However, his "rose" was realizing that his relationship with AJ was more brother-like now. They laugh, they fight, they joke around, but still remain family.
Colleen's "thorn" was that a Jesuit priest who had spent his retreat at Xavier for a week had just left to return to Pohnpei. He was a great man who livened up any conversation. Her "rose" was that after feeling overwhelmed by creating syllabi and lesson plans and being here in general, she read a bible quote that made her feel at peace. In essence it said that the battles are not ours, but God's. With that, she had a great night sleep the night before.
Ellen's "thorn" was struggling to find a place within the Xavier community- amongst a staff of twenty or so. The familiarities of home are no longer around; the ways to relax are different; the stress level is different. She described it as a daily struggle to handle the rush of everything unfamiliar. The "rose" was bonding with people over silly things- like hanging out in the kitchen with the ladies who cook our meals and pretending to toss cocoa puffs into their mouths.
Jackie's "thorn" was leaving her pillow out on the balcony to air out- but hours later it was soaked by the island torrential rains. The "happy" was getting excited that the students were arriving back on campus. It is different this year to actually know most of them as they move back into the dormitory and into the homes' of their host families. Additionally, Jackie was happy about the general optimism amongst the staff and general willingness to foster the greater staff community.
Marcos's "thorn" also had to do with teaching. He is trying to find material for the Theology class that he teaches and is dealing with the general drain of teaching many classes and coaching basketball at the same time. However, his "rose" had to do with the Music class that he teaches. He continues to be amazed by the natural talent these students have- they have no formal training but they can pick up a song quickly and sound incredible.
Although this only gives you a glimpse of what's been going on in Chuuk, it may show you that although we are all here immersed in one culture, our experiences are vastly different. Xavier started school today so things are certainly picking up speed. We are in two high schools, in three houses, in different staff communities but still united by the fact that we're JVs.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Lost in Translation
*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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Pink clouds
So I have reached the halfway point, and to celebrate, JVI flew our community and the Pohnpeian community to join the JVI community on Majuro in the Marshall Islands where we had our ReOrientation(for the 1st years)/DisOrientation (for the 2nd years). Most people erroneously assume that one island out here is just like the next, however upon leaving the state of Chuuk after a year of limited mobility I was able to appreciate the subtle similarities born of vast differences. Majuro is a 33 mile long strip that bends in the shape of a horseshoe – and by strip I mean the width of the island is such that you could stand in the ocean on one side, and with a modicum of effort throw a rock into the ocean on the other side. I thought I would have suffered from a serious bout of claustrophobia, but having miles of endless straight-aways and new territory to run up and down made the island seem much larger than it actually was. We were wisked away to the luxurious Ajeltake retreat house on the more rural side of the island where the 14 of us (5 Chuukese, 2 Pohnpeian, 5 Marshallese and 2 JVI Program directors) spent 5 days in fruitful reflection, discussion and silence. Being physically removed from life here at Xavier, or Pohnpei Catholic School or Assumption allowed us all the opportunity to gain the perspective we needed on our purpose, our mission here and our JVI experience.
First it was so wonderful to get to meet/see again our fellow JV’s and hear about there lives in their respective countries. Questions were flying back and forth, catching up, comparing, contrasting our lives since we’ve left, and discussing where our lives are headed. It was also amazing to see how my community when transplanted among all of these other people transformed. I think often times we get so caught up in the everyday that we forget how much beauty pervades the people we are surrounded by. We harp on their flaws, become easily frustrated by their imperfections and dwell on their inability to meet our expectations. There were so many times when I could sit back and marvel at the presence of God so alive in the room, and appreciate the way the dynamic of communities change when fresh faces are thrown into the mix!
As peaceful as it was to sit by the ocean side, caressed by the island breeze and awed by the exhibition of nature’s artistic prowess everyday at dusk, the retreat aroused feelings of frustration, doubt and discomfort. A careful review of the year shed incriminating light on those areas where I have failed to meet even the minimal standards set for myself. Particularly the day of silence stirred within me a sense of annoyance with myself for all of the times that I settled. Given the nature of Xavier, it is often times so much easier to settle into what is comfortable – to watch a movie with the American gang rather than diversifying the crowd, or to retreat to solitude instead of having a stilted conversation, or staying on the hill during weekends instead of venturing off to my sponsor’s home, or to get lost in lesson planning instead of studying the language (which I still am awful at!). Furthermore, even at those moments when I did realize my tendency to remain in the comfortable, I did nothing, nor did I call out and challenge anyone else who fell into similar patterns. I think it is one think to live in another country, but it is a completely different thing to LIVE in another culture and live with a mindset of immersion and an attitude of sensitivity so as to soak up as much as is humanly possible rather than just skirting by with a superficial understanding. And so I return to Xavier with a renewed sense of determination to learn the language and to shed the American safety net that has sheltered me for the past year so that I do not return to ReO/DisO with this same feeling of discontent.
I think that being committed to the relationships formed here as opposed to any attachment to the place itself also minimally helps to justify my actual purpose here. We read a fantastic article by Ivan Illyich http://www.altruists.org/f451 that flew in the face of all of my reasoning for joining JVI in the first place. Our culture looks at generosity as an admirable quality in people – their ability to give – a virtue that I truly wanted to cultivate….all the while failing to realize that I have the opportunity to cultivate that quality because I am in a position to. I have the resources and the means to do so, and the very act of me offering to help, as altruistic as it may seem, in a way automatically assumes a sense of condescension in that I am presuming others need my help. That they are in a position that necessitates someone to come in and make things better. I was forced to question – am I making things better, or is my being here more of a detriment than a benefit to the Chuukese, or my students? In other words, I come to Micronesia thinking that these kids need a better education, one that meets the U.S. standards – obviously making the arrogant assumption that U.S. standards of education are superior – and I stroll into the classroom subconsciously bringing with me my American ways of teaching that reward the individual, and push for perfection because whether I realize it or not – it’s the only way I’ve ever known. Is that truly what is best – to instinctually force this rugged individualism on a culture that values a communal way of life? For example, we hold an awards ceremony at the end of the year to honor those students who have achieved academic success. First, it typically tends to embarrass a lot of students who would prefer to work hard and go unnoticed and blend in with their classmates rather than stand up in front of the school as a model of success. Second – what is success? For most of these students, success is “trying your best” and so we are sending this message that because they didn’t receive an award for trying their best – they are failures? Who are we to determine this standard? Am I socializing these kids to become students fit to graduate and enroll in mainland institutions or to value the culture in which they have been raised and to perpetuate their family name and way of life – AND which one is more correct? For most of us, we equate more western with better. We think “Well, democracy works for us here in America and look at us – we’re the most affluent countries in the world.” And so we, with all good intentions, through compacts and exorbitant amounts of fiscal support try and introduce this democratic, capitalistic structure of government into other countries thinking that we are helping them adopt a similar infrastructure to “get back on their feet.” The fact of the matter is, you cannot transplant this western ideal into a heritage of familial ties and hierarchies without consequences. Now Chuuk is left with a government who cannot manage finances well enough to pave roads, or maintain continuous electricity for 24 hour intervals because governing officials are elected based on who has the larger family instead of sheer competence and the power company typically doles out electricity to family members at minimal costs and thus does not have enough income to operate consistently.
I apologize if I have only further confused you, but perhaps Illych’s link will help contextualize the preceding ramblings.
Though I did spend much time in internal discussion and turmoil, one seemingly unrelated, resolution I was able to make in my serene observation of a typical Monday sunset was that most clouds are really pink. God really does make pink clouds.
First it was so wonderful to get to meet/see again our fellow JV’s and hear about there lives in their respective countries. Questions were flying back and forth, catching up, comparing, contrasting our lives since we’ve left, and discussing where our lives are headed. It was also amazing to see how my community when transplanted among all of these other people transformed. I think often times we get so caught up in the everyday that we forget how much beauty pervades the people we are surrounded by. We harp on their flaws, become easily frustrated by their imperfections and dwell on their inability to meet our expectations. There were so many times when I could sit back and marvel at the presence of God so alive in the room, and appreciate the way the dynamic of communities change when fresh faces are thrown into the mix!
As peaceful as it was to sit by the ocean side, caressed by the island breeze and awed by the exhibition of nature’s artistic prowess everyday at dusk, the retreat aroused feelings of frustration, doubt and discomfort. A careful review of the year shed incriminating light on those areas where I have failed to meet even the minimal standards set for myself. Particularly the day of silence stirred within me a sense of annoyance with myself for all of the times that I settled. Given the nature of Xavier, it is often times so much easier to settle into what is comfortable – to watch a movie with the American gang rather than diversifying the crowd, or to retreat to solitude instead of having a stilted conversation, or staying on the hill during weekends instead of venturing off to my sponsor’s home, or to get lost in lesson planning instead of studying the language (which I still am awful at!). Furthermore, even at those moments when I did realize my tendency to remain in the comfortable, I did nothing, nor did I call out and challenge anyone else who fell into similar patterns. I think it is one think to live in another country, but it is a completely different thing to LIVE in another culture and live with a mindset of immersion and an attitude of sensitivity so as to soak up as much as is humanly possible rather than just skirting by with a superficial understanding. And so I return to Xavier with a renewed sense of determination to learn the language and to shed the American safety net that has sheltered me for the past year so that I do not return to ReO/DisO with this same feeling of discontent.
I think that being committed to the relationships formed here as opposed to any attachment to the place itself also minimally helps to justify my actual purpose here. We read a fantastic article by Ivan Illyich http://www.altruists.org/f451 that flew in the face of all of my reasoning for joining JVI in the first place. Our culture looks at generosity as an admirable quality in people – their ability to give – a virtue that I truly wanted to cultivate….all the while failing to realize that I have the opportunity to cultivate that quality because I am in a position to. I have the resources and the means to do so, and the very act of me offering to help, as altruistic as it may seem, in a way automatically assumes a sense of condescension in that I am presuming others need my help. That they are in a position that necessitates someone to come in and make things better. I was forced to question – am I making things better, or is my being here more of a detriment than a benefit to the Chuukese, or my students? In other words, I come to Micronesia thinking that these kids need a better education, one that meets the U.S. standards – obviously making the arrogant assumption that U.S. standards of education are superior – and I stroll into the classroom subconsciously bringing with me my American ways of teaching that reward the individual, and push for perfection because whether I realize it or not – it’s the only way I’ve ever known. Is that truly what is best – to instinctually force this rugged individualism on a culture that values a communal way of life? For example, we hold an awards ceremony at the end of the year to honor those students who have achieved academic success. First, it typically tends to embarrass a lot of students who would prefer to work hard and go unnoticed and blend in with their classmates rather than stand up in front of the school as a model of success. Second – what is success? For most of these students, success is “trying your best” and so we are sending this message that because they didn’t receive an award for trying their best – they are failures? Who are we to determine this standard? Am I socializing these kids to become students fit to graduate and enroll in mainland institutions or to value the culture in which they have been raised and to perpetuate their family name and way of life – AND which one is more correct? For most of us, we equate more western with better. We think “Well, democracy works for us here in America and look at us – we’re the most affluent countries in the world.” And so we, with all good intentions, through compacts and exorbitant amounts of fiscal support try and introduce this democratic, capitalistic structure of government into other countries thinking that we are helping them adopt a similar infrastructure to “get back on their feet.” The fact of the matter is, you cannot transplant this western ideal into a heritage of familial ties and hierarchies without consequences. Now Chuuk is left with a government who cannot manage finances well enough to pave roads, or maintain continuous electricity for 24 hour intervals because governing officials are elected based on who has the larger family instead of sheer competence and the power company typically doles out electricity to family members at minimal costs and thus does not have enough income to operate consistently.
I apologize if I have only further confused you, but perhaps Illych’s link will help contextualize the preceding ramblings.
Though I did spend much time in internal discussion and turmoil, one seemingly unrelated, resolution I was able to make in my serene observation of a typical Monday sunset was that most clouds are really pink. God really does make pink clouds.
Cultural Day 2006
I’m not really sure that pictures can capture it, but you can try if you want….(AJ uploaded several on his blog site if you want to check them out – go to the top of the page and click on his link) Words still fall short of capturing it and thus I apologize that the following is nothing more than a string of incoherent thoughts……Micronesian culture at its finest. Micronesian National Anthem…. “Across all Micronesia join hands on every side..” Dances that transform a student who has yet to utter a complete sentence in my class into a belligerent war general. Bare asses minimally covered by a radiant red thuu with two sinewy legs poking out from either side of the loin cloth – whose horsepower is not to be underestimated when shaking the concrete walls of Calligan Hall. Poorly tied thuus. Barefeet. The glow of coconut oil on glistening bodies artificially tinted yellow. 19 diverse faculty members ungracefully, yet proudly pay tribute to the Chuukese culture. Authentic foods. Authentic handicrafts that make the average person marvel at the infinite number of uses for a single coconut leaf. Pride. Native tongue. Unity. Inclusion. War paint. Headdress. Coconut bras. Status. History. Long hair. Flowers. Kimonos. Fertility dances. Mosquito dances. Banging. Shouting. Chanting. Singing. Slapping. Whistling. Thrusting. Stomping. Drumming. Wooden trashcans. Sticks. Ceremony. Family. Sakau pounding. Breadfruit pounding. Leadership. Absorbing. Appreciating. Showing off. Flags. Deference. Submission. Aggression. Passion. Thunderous applause.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Sensé
468 exam essays graded. 180 days (questionable) completed successfully (questionable). 148 students. 35 seniors walking. 4 days till graduation…and counting.
School is nearly out for the summer and even though Chuukese time would suggest life things becoming even more relaxed than they already are, Xavier has become even more chaotic in the past few days. To occupy the idle time no longer spent in classes, Fr. Arthur has contracted the students to decorate, clean, move chairs, construct the stage, and make final preparation for the upcoming events. Parents have slowly been arriving on island just in time for the cultural day celebrations which begin tomorrow. Grass skirts, coconut bras, thus (loin cloths) and local handicrafts are arriving in boxfuls. Even as I write this, three ladies sit next to me creating flyers essentially inviting the entire island of Weno to join in the festivities tomorrow! While I could sit for hours and write about my expectations for the splendor of what is to come……..I think I must save that for an entry all of its own…
Aside from all of commotion up here at Xavier, I’ve been privileged with the opportunity to assistant coach the Chuuk State Track and Field team slated to make their appearance at the Micro Games in Saipan in late June!!!! Of course the job presents its challenges as most of the athletes do not speak English, but sweating together, busting ass, running – all transcend the language barrier. Even so, it’s still frustrating at times wanting to say SOO much – to coach, to teach, to learn – to ask how much it hurts when running 7 miles on gravel and coral – barefoot, to challenge them when they slack off, to listen when they complain of standard aches – all of which culminates in “Fokkun och” (very good).
But every day, even if only a little at a time, I get to vicariously live out a little bit of my passion though them - especially in those focused moments, running side by side with a tiny 26 year old Micronesian named Puna. A car pulls up beside us and in Chuukese, from what I understand, asks “Who is that freakshow (ad-libbed) running with you!?” And slightly fatigued he responds with a simple “sensé.”
Unfortunately, as hard as the athletes are working, we are still uncertain as to whether they will be allowed to participate. It seems as though the Chuuk recreation Office, who originally guaranteed assistance in sending athletes to Saipan, cannot make good on their promise and the team needs to seek alternative means of getting to Saipan. The athletes, as of right now, show up everyday and work their faces off unaware of the possibility that they may never get to exhibition their hard work. Hopefully in the next few days we should find out whether or not the trip will be a go!!!
If you might be interested in helping financially, if you have any fundraising ideas, if you have any suggestions, if you have any connections that might help us get these athletes to Saipan, PLEASE PLEASE contact me. Your support and your creativity is GREATLY appreciated.
My Contact Info:
xhs-jvi@mail.fm
just put jtrunce(or any variation) in the subject line!!
Or if you write within the next two few weeks -hit me up at jtruncellito1@loyola.edu because we are headed to Majuro in just a few hours!!!!!
Thank you for your continued love and encouragement. If you are graduating, transitioning or maintaining your daily routine in the upcoming weeks I pray that the Lord is with you through every moment of it.
School is nearly out for the summer and even though Chuukese time would suggest life things becoming even more relaxed than they already are, Xavier has become even more chaotic in the past few days. To occupy the idle time no longer spent in classes, Fr. Arthur has contracted the students to decorate, clean, move chairs, construct the stage, and make final preparation for the upcoming events. Parents have slowly been arriving on island just in time for the cultural day celebrations which begin tomorrow. Grass skirts, coconut bras, thus (loin cloths) and local handicrafts are arriving in boxfuls. Even as I write this, three ladies sit next to me creating flyers essentially inviting the entire island of Weno to join in the festivities tomorrow! While I could sit for hours and write about my expectations for the splendor of what is to come……..I think I must save that for an entry all of its own…
Aside from all of commotion up here at Xavier, I’ve been privileged with the opportunity to assistant coach the Chuuk State Track and Field team slated to make their appearance at the Micro Games in Saipan in late June!!!! Of course the job presents its challenges as most of the athletes do not speak English, but sweating together, busting ass, running – all transcend the language barrier. Even so, it’s still frustrating at times wanting to say SOO much – to coach, to teach, to learn – to ask how much it hurts when running 7 miles on gravel and coral – barefoot, to challenge them when they slack off, to listen when they complain of standard aches – all of which culminates in “Fokkun och” (very good).
But every day, even if only a little at a time, I get to vicariously live out a little bit of my passion though them - especially in those focused moments, running side by side with a tiny 26 year old Micronesian named Puna. A car pulls up beside us and in Chuukese, from what I understand, asks “Who is that freakshow (ad-libbed) running with you!?” And slightly fatigued he responds with a simple “sensé.”
Unfortunately, as hard as the athletes are working, we are still uncertain as to whether they will be allowed to participate. It seems as though the Chuuk recreation Office, who originally guaranteed assistance in sending athletes to Saipan, cannot make good on their promise and the team needs to seek alternative means of getting to Saipan. The athletes, as of right now, show up everyday and work their faces off unaware of the possibility that they may never get to exhibition their hard work. Hopefully in the next few days we should find out whether or not the trip will be a go!!!
If you might be interested in helping financially, if you have any fundraising ideas, if you have any suggestions, if you have any connections that might help us get these athletes to Saipan, PLEASE PLEASE contact me. Your support and your creativity is GREATLY appreciated.
My Contact Info:
xhs-jvi@mail.fm
just put jtrunce(or any variation) in the subject line!!
Or if you write within the next two few weeks -hit me up at jtruncellito1@loyola.edu because we are headed to Majuro in just a few hours!!!!!
Thank you for your continued love and encouragement. If you are graduating, transitioning or maintaining your daily routine in the upcoming weeks I pray that the Lord is with you through every moment of it.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Always Thinkn'
Question of the year:
Asked by freshman Vincent “Delz” Neth:
If all of the disciples fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, how does anyone know what really happened?
Asked by freshman Vincent “Delz” Neth:
If all of the disciples fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, how does anyone know what really happened?
When the Saints go Marching In.
Track and Field Day has come and gone in a flurry of excitement. Tuesday was the “marathon” and by marathon I mean a 10 mile run up and down the streets downtown for the gentlemen and about a 6 mile run for the ladies – which for a high-schooler is a considerable distance. So Monday night the coaches threw a pasta and Gatorade party for the distance squad up in the faculty lounge, and the rest of the boys threw a rowdy pep rally to get the athletes psyched up. The ladies stayed up on campus for the evening for the sake of convenience since we all had to be awake at 3:30 AM to head down to the race.
It is only my first experience in coaching, so I suppose I can consider it a rookie mistake – but in order to be able to watch the race and get split times, I decided to ride a bike down and follow the runners. Riding in the headlights of the pickup behind me, I met the team down at the field. Needless to say I was not in the truck with the runners as they drove down and took for granted that they knew how to prepare for the upcoming race…..
So we warm up, stretch and I take a look at the starting line. T-shirts, spray-painted colors, shorts to the knees, flip-flops, bare feet – whistle. I take off for about 2 miles down the road and stop to cheer them on as they go by – 2 of them pass by looking strong - but my 3rd runner was uncharacteristically way behind and isn’t running like himself but says he’s fine…..the race goes on….and one of my runners punks and drops out – which I should have expected (yeah still bitter!) and my other runner finishes the race in 7th place – oh but not before he runs up along side my bike and hands me the socks that he’s been wearing for about 9 miles. If you know me than you might know how uncomfortable “feet” or anything pertaining to feet makes me…………if that is not an indication of how much I love these kids – I’m not quite sure what is – because I would not just put out my hand in that situation for anyone!!
Joshua (7th) crosses the line grabs some water and disappears while we wait for Thaine who comes chugging along a few minutes later. They say hindsight is 20/20 and unfortunately it was not until the race was over that I could look back and put all the pieces of my errors together to complete the picture. Perhaps the story is more elegantly told my the runners themselves who returned to school and shared it very candidly with the rest of their sophomore classmates:
Thaine: “Well it was a lot of fun, but as soon as I started the race I really had to waste. Really badly. So I ran all the way to Blue Lagoon and back (about 6 miles) and then I saw Deacon (our Dean of Students) and he found a banana leaf for me. So I stopped on the side of the road and wasted. And that was my experience.”
<>>>
Joshua: “My experience was pretty much the same as Thaine. As soon as the race started I really had to waste, but I ran anyway. There’s a saying in Yap ‘you haven’t done your best until you shit in your pants’ and that’s just about what I did. I ran the whole race and as soon as I finished I had to run and find a bathroom.”
Joshua is one of the most intelligent, and quietest students in the class – and believe me I was JUST as shocked…. So it turns out that on the truckride down, all three of the gentlemen had indulged in some expired mango juice. I stupidly forgot to grab some bread or something for them, and so they resorted to the only alternative. If you’re ever run straight after drinking juice you can empathize – and now multiply that by the number of days expired your juice is and you get the picture!! Lesson learned - and a mistake to fix for next year!!
The team scores after the Marathon were Southern Namorias – 53; Chuuk High- 20 and Xavier- 17 most of those 17 points came from the ladies who did very well and took 3rd, 8th and 9th!! However the marathon was not the only place where the ladies sparkled!!
I recruited two of my basketball girls from the the Saints – class of ’09 - to run the 8 lap run. After a looooott of coaxing they finally agreed to do it and trained sporadically throughout the past few months. Friday - you have to picture an open grass field – which in the middle of the day with no coconut trees or any shade for that matter can be blistering!! It’s less than 200 meters around and the corners are near 90 degree angles. The race begins and I see two red basketball uniforms tearing off around the field - one bearing the name Yamase and the other Trunce!! J They jump out to an early lead, and while most were a little concerned that they were unaware of exactly how many laps they had to run….. they looked strong so I pushed them….they maintained the lead for about 6 laps until green and orange shirts start to close in on them. The footsteps behind them only incites further determination and neither yield to the pressure. I turn at this point to the Xavier crowd behind me who is glued to the race and I tell them that they need to help their girls get through this race. “When they come around again – you get your butt off the ground and cheer your face off!!!”
As the girls head into the last lap, a red mass has vacated their comfortable shade of the tent and has flooded the field. Feeling the electricity from their classmates, Nikki and Sarah begin their final kick. Nikki opens stride and gains a few steps while Sarah still struggles behind green and orange. Nikki flies around the last turn and Sarah close behind in a moment of insanity, or of pure mental toughness refuses to take 2nd to anyone other than her teammate. She pushes her body until the green recedes from her peripheral vision and collapses across the line.
………….Perhaps the only 1......2 finish of the day. I couldn’t have been more proud!! I walk the girls off the field and back to the tent escorted by the melodious chants “Oh when the Saints….go marching in…….”
It is only my first experience in coaching, so I suppose I can consider it a rookie mistake – but in order to be able to watch the race and get split times, I decided to ride a bike down and follow the runners. Riding in the headlights of the pickup behind me, I met the team down at the field. Needless to say I was not in the truck with the runners as they drove down and took for granted that they knew how to prepare for the upcoming race…..
So we warm up, stretch and I take a look at the starting line. T-shirts, spray-painted colors, shorts to the knees, flip-flops, bare feet – whistle. I take off for about 2 miles down the road and stop to cheer them on as they go by – 2 of them pass by looking strong - but my 3rd runner was uncharacteristically way behind and isn’t running like himself but says he’s fine…..the race goes on….and one of my runners punks and drops out – which I should have expected (yeah still bitter!) and my other runner finishes the race in 7th place – oh but not before he runs up along side my bike and hands me the socks that he’s been wearing for about 9 miles. If you know me than you might know how uncomfortable “feet” or anything pertaining to feet makes me…………if that is not an indication of how much I love these kids – I’m not quite sure what is – because I would not just put out my hand in that situation for anyone!!
Joshua (7th) crosses the line grabs some water and disappears while we wait for Thaine who comes chugging along a few minutes later. They say hindsight is 20/20 and unfortunately it was not until the race was over that I could look back and put all the pieces of my errors together to complete the picture. Perhaps the story is more elegantly told my the runners themselves who returned to school and shared it very candidly with the rest of their sophomore classmates:
Thaine: “Well it was a lot of fun, but as soon as I started the race I really had to waste. Really badly. So I ran all the way to Blue Lagoon and back (about 6 miles) and then I saw Deacon (our Dean of Students) and he found a banana leaf for me. So I stopped on the side of the road and wasted. And that was my experience.”
<
Joshua: “My experience was pretty much the same as Thaine. As soon as the race started I really had to waste, but I ran anyway. There’s a saying in Yap ‘you haven’t done your best until you shit in your pants’ and that’s just about what I did. I ran the whole race and as soon as I finished I had to run and find a bathroom.”
Joshua is one of the most intelligent, and quietest students in the class – and believe me I was JUST as shocked…. So it turns out that on the truckride down, all three of the gentlemen had indulged in some expired mango juice. I stupidly forgot to grab some bread or something for them, and so they resorted to the only alternative. If you’re ever run straight after drinking juice you can empathize – and now multiply that by the number of days expired your juice is and you get the picture!! Lesson learned - and a mistake to fix for next year!!
The team scores after the Marathon were Southern Namorias – 53; Chuuk High- 20 and Xavier- 17 most of those 17 points came from the ladies who did very well and took 3rd, 8th and 9th!! However the marathon was not the only place where the ladies sparkled!!
I recruited two of my basketball girls from the the Saints – class of ’09 - to run the 8 lap run. After a looooott of coaxing they finally agreed to do it and trained sporadically throughout the past few months. Friday - you have to picture an open grass field – which in the middle of the day with no coconut trees or any shade for that matter can be blistering!! It’s less than 200 meters around and the corners are near 90 degree angles. The race begins and I see two red basketball uniforms tearing off around the field - one bearing the name Yamase and the other Trunce!! J They jump out to an early lead, and while most were a little concerned that they were unaware of exactly how many laps they had to run….. they looked strong so I pushed them….they maintained the lead for about 6 laps until green and orange shirts start to close in on them. The footsteps behind them only incites further determination and neither yield to the pressure. I turn at this point to the Xavier crowd behind me who is glued to the race and I tell them that they need to help their girls get through this race. “When they come around again – you get your butt off the ground and cheer your face off!!!”
As the girls head into the last lap, a red mass has vacated their comfortable shade of the tent and has flooded the field. Feeling the electricity from their classmates, Nikki and Sarah begin their final kick. Nikki opens stride and gains a few steps while Sarah still struggles behind green and orange. Nikki flies around the last turn and Sarah close behind in a moment of insanity, or of pure mental toughness refuses to take 2nd to anyone other than her teammate. She pushes her body until the green recedes from her peripheral vision and collapses across the line.
………….Perhaps the only 1......2 finish of the day. I couldn’t have been more proud!! I walk the girls off the field and back to the tent escorted by the melodious chants “Oh when the Saints….go marching in…….”
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Stoned
Stoned
We have just finished up with a visit from the Western Association of Schools and Colleges (WASC)….This has required months of preparation, meetings and discussions. The school invites and finances a team of three to come to Chuuk, observe every detail of the school and provide insight on how to improve our status as an accredited institution. While it has been wonderful to have visitors ogle over how amazing this school truly is, it has been difficult to watch them pick apart our school and critique what we do. I suppose I am aware of it more so because they are examining our school through American eyes. They suggest implementing a fine arts program – which sounds like a fantastic plan with the exception of two problems – our students already have phenomenal artistic and musical talent because they pretty much start singing and playing the ukulele in utero – organized instruction seems almost to be an infringement on their culture…….AND it doesn’t really seem practical to invest in musical instruments and art supplies when we have students sharing 3 to a textbook – at best! They suggest implementing more deliberate fire safety plans and taking more precautionary steps to ensure the safety of our students……While we as Americans have what one might call “street smarts” these kids have an admirable sense of “island smarts.” In the event of an injury – they would be giving US the local cure rather than vice versa……and in the event of a fire (which actually happened in the boys dormitory last year) a typical procedure might be to clear the building and wait until the fire department to arrive……here in Chuuk – the fire department is hit or miss – and the procedure instead entailed a mass storming of the dorm in order to be the hero of the day! It has also been difficult find the balance between glamorizing the school, and simply telling it like it is. During one of our questioning sessions, our girls moderator began speaking about how we take measures to ensure the safety of the girls on the way up to school every day. She told the WASC team how sometimes she will ride on the buses/flatbed trucks with them, and how there are rules in place to make sure their feet are not hanging over the outside, and that they are quiet etc….. “There have been some cases where the girls have been stoned, but for the most part they are safe on the ride up.” Needless to say, the WASC team’s jaws kind of dropped, and all of us kind of looked around to see who was going to try make amends to the situation. Of course the typical understanding of “stoned” is something relating to getting high. Here in Chuuk, (though marijuana is still very accessible) the use of “stoned” here refers to throwing stones, or sling-shotting stones at people passing by (I know – not much better!). People are very protective of their property, and often times the girls can get very loud on the way up to school – and unfortunately, that is the Chuukese way of showing their discontent for a disruption of the peace! Even after clarification, I’m sure it did not bode well for us – during those few seconds in which the team thought that our female students often come to school high as kites!!!!!
We have just finished up with a visit from the Western Association of Schools and Colleges (WASC)….This has required months of preparation, meetings and discussions. The school invites and finances a team of three to come to Chuuk, observe every detail of the school and provide insight on how to improve our status as an accredited institution. While it has been wonderful to have visitors ogle over how amazing this school truly is, it has been difficult to watch them pick apart our school and critique what we do. I suppose I am aware of it more so because they are examining our school through American eyes. They suggest implementing a fine arts program – which sounds like a fantastic plan with the exception of two problems – our students already have phenomenal artistic and musical talent because they pretty much start singing and playing the ukulele in utero – organized instruction seems almost to be an infringement on their culture…….AND it doesn’t really seem practical to invest in musical instruments and art supplies when we have students sharing 3 to a textbook – at best! They suggest implementing more deliberate fire safety plans and taking more precautionary steps to ensure the safety of our students……While we as Americans have what one might call “street smarts” these kids have an admirable sense of “island smarts.” In the event of an injury – they would be giving US the local cure rather than vice versa……and in the event of a fire (which actually happened in the boys dormitory last year) a typical procedure might be to clear the building and wait until the fire department to arrive……here in Chuuk – the fire department is hit or miss – and the procedure instead entailed a mass storming of the dorm in order to be the hero of the day! It has also been difficult find the balance between glamorizing the school, and simply telling it like it is. During one of our questioning sessions, our girls moderator began speaking about how we take measures to ensure the safety of the girls on the way up to school every day. She told the WASC team how sometimes she will ride on the buses/flatbed trucks with them, and how there are rules in place to make sure their feet are not hanging over the outside, and that they are quiet etc….. “There have been some cases where the girls have been stoned, but for the most part they are safe on the ride up.” Needless to say, the WASC team’s jaws kind of dropped, and all of us kind of looked around to see who was going to try make amends to the situation. Of course the typical understanding of “stoned” is something relating to getting high. Here in Chuuk, (though marijuana is still very accessible) the use of “stoned” here refers to throwing stones, or sling-shotting stones at people passing by (I know – not much better!). People are very protective of their property, and often times the girls can get very loud on the way up to school – and unfortunately, that is the Chuukese way of showing their discontent for a disruption of the peace! Even after clarification, I’m sure it did not bode well for us – during those few seconds in which the team thought that our female students often come to school high as kites!!!!!
Weakness leaving the body....
I apologize that it has been so long since I have last made contact here, as the last few weeks have been quite a blur! At the beginning of February we began training for Track and Field Day. (Yes I realize that Track and Field is not a day – it’s a SEASON, it’s a WAY OF LIFE – but hey – I’ll take whatever I can get!!) I was worried that I would be unable to run and would have to coach from the sidelines, as I have been plagued by a wicked case of plantar fascitis for the better part of 4 months. Fortunately, with a little determination and some help from home, I was able to hit the roads with the team. Distance girls are very hard to come by due to the combination of lack of motivation and lack of athletic opportunities – so the ladies team has been very challenging to coach. But coaching the gentleman’s team has given me a new runner’s high – something I haven’t felt for MONTHS. Being stripped of the opportunity to compete has been among the hardest of adjustments coming here to Chuuk. Even in spite of the temperamental internet connection, I often found myself soaking up every e-mail from my hounds just to live in some way vicariously through their practices and meets. Ever since February however, I have been able to find an alternative source of the euphoria I once received from the thrill of the race. I think I’ve always known that part of me longed to coach someday, but little did I know that I had to travel half way around the world to find my opportunity.
The kids are like little untapped balls of talent. None of them have had any formal training in running and it has been exhilarating to just see the potential pour out of them!! It took a few weeks to establish a routine, but they have now become accustomed to the habit of warm-up, stretch, run, stride, stretch, crunch. They do often need a swift kick in the behind to get them moving though. The majority of the first days of practice were spent fending off the onslaught of excuses and complaints. We were in the middle of crunches and MT pipes up from the back, “Where did you come from – the army!?” “Yes,” I said, “Welcome to boot camp!”
They also enjoy just knowing some of the technicals of running, things as simple as stretching and learning the different parts of the legs. They have appropriately re-named muscle groups and stretches to titles more suitable to their liking. Calves are now called taxis, (Calves=cabs=taxis) glutes are simply referred to as “my maximus,” and the stretch where you cross your legs and bend towards the ground has been deemed “leftover rice.” (left over right) Precious Isidore (or EZ-Door as we affectionately call him) came running up only a few days into the season on a day after we had gone through stretching in great detail, “Jackie, I forget – can you tell me again how to stretch my pigstrings?” I tried unsuccessfully to stifle my laugh – he caught me grinning and very seriously corrected himself, “errrrr uhh I mean my porkstrings.”
Even in just 2 months of running, their times have plummeted. They used to think the 4 mile roundtrip run to the bridge (if you want to call it a bridge – crumbling concrete that leaves no room for error when driving across) and back was just shy of a marathon, and anything under a 7 minute mile was of Olympic caliber. Now running to the bridge is considered an easy run, and one of my runners PR’ed at a 5:46 round a roughly 200m grass oval. When we huddle up at the end of practice to cheer, the cries that can be heard is a faint "what is pain?" following by a resounding "WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY!!!!!"
Track and Field day is quickly approaching – April 4th, 6th & 7th. All of the high-schools on the island come together in heated competition to battle for the title of champion. Xavier will return to defend their title from last year.
In addition to running with the boys in the afternoon, I’ve been trying to maintain sanity by getting up to run in the mornings as well. The kids ask me why I run twice a day and I ask them why they eat 3 times a day……it’s just something I have to do to survive! Just today my community mate – Joe and I set out to actually run around the island!! There are about 11 miles of road/crumbling road/dirt paths, and then another 3-4 miles of nice hiking trails that wander through the shacks hidden amidst the jungle.
The kids are like little untapped balls of talent. None of them have had any formal training in running and it has been exhilarating to just see the potential pour out of them!! It took a few weeks to establish a routine, but they have now become accustomed to the habit of warm-up, stretch, run, stride, stretch, crunch. They do often need a swift kick in the behind to get them moving though. The majority of the first days of practice were spent fending off the onslaught of excuses and complaints. We were in the middle of crunches and MT pipes up from the back, “Where did you come from – the army!?” “Yes,” I said, “Welcome to boot camp!”
They also enjoy just knowing some of the technicals of running, things as simple as stretching and learning the different parts of the legs. They have appropriately re-named muscle groups and stretches to titles more suitable to their liking. Calves are now called taxis, (Calves=cabs=taxis) glutes are simply referred to as “my maximus,” and the stretch where you cross your legs and bend towards the ground has been deemed “leftover rice.” (left over right) Precious Isidore (or EZ-Door as we affectionately call him) came running up only a few days into the season on a day after we had gone through stretching in great detail, “Jackie, I forget – can you tell me again how to stretch my pigstrings?” I tried unsuccessfully to stifle my laugh – he caught me grinning and very seriously corrected himself, “errrrr uhh I mean my porkstrings.”
Even in just 2 months of running, their times have plummeted. They used to think the 4 mile roundtrip run to the bridge (if you want to call it a bridge – crumbling concrete that leaves no room for error when driving across) and back was just shy of a marathon, and anything under a 7 minute mile was of Olympic caliber. Now running to the bridge is considered an easy run, and one of my runners PR’ed at a 5:46 round a roughly 200m grass oval. When we huddle up at the end of practice to cheer, the cries that can be heard is a faint "what is pain?" following by a resounding "WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY!!!!!"
Track and Field day is quickly approaching – April 4th, 6th & 7th. All of the high-schools on the island come together in heated competition to battle for the title of champion. Xavier will return to defend their title from last year.
In addition to running with the boys in the afternoon, I’ve been trying to maintain sanity by getting up to run in the mornings as well. The kids ask me why I run twice a day and I ask them why they eat 3 times a day……it’s just something I have to do to survive! Just today my community mate – Joe and I set out to actually run around the island!! There are about 11 miles of road/crumbling road/dirt paths, and then another 3-4 miles of nice hiking trails that wander through the shacks hidden amidst the jungle.
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