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!!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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…….”

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!!!!!

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.

Culture and Love

Culture and Love

One glance from you takes my breath away
One smile will bring me to my grave, I must honestly say.
God must be so intelligent to create the person you are
Because your existence brings me comfort near and far.
Culture has been effectively strong, that no one could ever forget
For all girls to have affairs,
It should be kept a secret.
Respect is all that counts
In a unique culture like mine
To show it to brothers and elders so our love can shine.
This culture has been keeping us apart
Yet, so strong like a stone is what lies in your heart
You’re the most unique person I’ve ever met
And loving you is something I’ll never regret
Days coming by and I still don’t believe
That in just a few months it’s time for you to leave
Saying goodbye is the hardest thing
Nature morns even birds won’t sing
Crying of pain because you won’t be here
For only brightness shines when you are near
So look back on the memories we could share
Deep inside you’ll see my smile and how much I care.

We just completed the poetry unit in my sophomore literature class and the above is one of my student’s final projects. Between Colette’s poem, and a conversation with one of the Micronesians on staff - Eleanor, I am slowly gaining more insight into the culture here in Chuuk, though I’m certain I’ll never reach the point of comprehension.
Eleanor has been dating her boyfriend for about 9 years. They went to and graduated from Xavier in 1999, and have both come back to work here for the year. She is half Pohnpeiian and he is Chuukese. In the Chuukese culture, men and women are not allowed to be seen together alone. Thus, there is always a lot of segregation at any function or event – with women together in one group, and men fraternizing in another. Irregardless of whether the two people are friends or more than friends, it is a disgrace to the females’ family for a male to be seen alone with her. For example, there is a senior Chuukese female at Xavier now who in her freshman year was dating a Pohnpeiian senior. Often times they were found sneaking off together to different corners of the campus or to the huts behind the classrooms – typical teenage behavior – you know you’ve done it at some point!! Though I’m sure you’ve never encountered the wrath of irate male family members because of it. The male relatives of the females are extremely “protective” in the sense that they would resort to violence should a male disrespect their family by being found alone together. Because a lot of the students here at Xavier are related to each other, as in this case, many a fistfight has broken out as a result of ignorant violation of this custom.
Eleanor was explaining how she cannot go into town alone with her boyfriend because of her male relatives that live on island. Even though their relationship is very public in the sense that they have made all of their relatives aware – it is still “taboo” (and that in itself is an understatement) for them to be together without being married and should her Chuukese uncles see them together, they would most likely beat up her boyfriend. Eleanor made it seem as though the reasoning behind this mentality is that it makes the women seem like tramps if they are alone with gentlemen without being committed – ring on the finger. If a couple wants to see each other, it must be in a group setting – with other people around. She was also explaining how if they were in Pohnpei, it would not be as big of a deal and they could come and go as they pleased, but trying to maintain a relationship here in Chuuk is unbelievably difficult.
Collette’s poem, turned in only a few days after this conversation, expressed so many of the same feelings Eleanor had been speaking of as far as being a female in Chuuk.
Culture has been effectively strong, that no one could ever forget
For all girls to have affairs,
It should be kept a secret.
Respect is all that counts
In a unique culture like mine
To show it to brothers and elders so our love can shine.

These lines though so simple, are so powerful in that I can see firsthand – and feel through her poetry the frustration of being kept apart from the one you love – not because of distance but because of a cultural standard that dictates what the heart must feel. I’m sure it is difficult for the gentlemen as well, but the double standard lies in the fact that it is not as though a gentleman’s family would go and attack the female for being alone with a male. It is as if girls are in need of protection and are not entitled to make their own, or publicly affirm their decisions regarding their personal affairs. She is constantly forced to make this choice between her heart, and her attempt to appease her family. Listening to Elle talk was intriguing but almost surreal – I could hear the words she was saying, but there was and still is this inability within me to process them properly and understand - and I feel almost ignorant for my incredulity.
* * *
My schedule has also left me fortunate enough to attend the Freshman Chuukese class two days per cycle – a very humbling experience. Try taking a class with kids just over half your age – who know multitudes more than you –they’re all bilingual!! It’s so funny because I have these freshmen in lit class, but during Chuukese I’m copying their notes and asking them questions galore!! First semester was primarily language, but the curriculum has since moved on to more exposure to the numerous facets of Chuukese life. The other day we had coconut retrieval and husking lessons. (Coconuts are perhaps the most fascinating fruit to ever spring forth from God’s green earth!!!!) The Chuukese guys were the first ones up the coconut trees and as they started tossing them down, we gathered them up and started husking. As we were watching the process – I asked one of the Marshallese ladies if they knew how to climb and husk. Her response: “Girls aren’t allowed to climb.” Upon further questioning, she explained that especially in Marshallese and Chuukese culture, women are never allowed to be at a higher level than men – so a woman climbing a tree would put her at a higher level – and thus disrespect any males in the vicinity. For another example, if everyone is congregated in mass and a woman enters late, she cannot simply walk to her seat, but rather walks across the floor on her knees so as not to be at a higher level/taller than the males in the room. I feel as though I’ve unknowingly disrespected many males along the way as I gradually learn more about this ingrained mentality!

Coming from a culture that demands an equality of genders – particularly coming from a single sex high school that promotes the empowerment of women, and being raised by parents who have always ensured that my gender was never an obstacle to opportunity, it is very difficult to juxtapose my beliefs with the way of life here. I apologize because my words are not intended to be judgmental though I don’t know how they could be construed any other way….

Injustice

The blue sky feels the threat of the encroaching night.
The sun cries a trembling violet in hopes the darkness will retreat.
Innocent bystanders arrested by the spectacle do nothing to intervene.
They justify their indifference with feigned meakness.
In a fit of indignance the sun explodes orange,
protecting the what remains of the western stronghold.
Pink obstinance scatters across the remainder of daylight -
a refusal to succumb to arrogance.
Clinging to the remnants of a false hope,
the last breaths of wispy clouds dissapate.
The stars emerge without remorse in triumphant victory at yet another defeat.

Merry Christmas!

Twas two nights before Christmas and as we all gathered in the student kitchen, the spirit of Christmas worked its magic and before my very eyes 30 high-school students warped into little elves all named Martha. The little bakers were hard at work (some even with nothing but an apron) eating snickerdoodles, oatmeal and peanut butter cookies just about as fast as they made them. I thought one Christmas miracle was enough for a lifetime, but as the last cookies were baking and the colossal mess of flour, eggs and sugar was being cleaned up, the Martha’s then transformed into mini Eminems and the night ended with everyone crowded around a keyboard for an impressive free-style rap session. - a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.

On the night of Christmas Eve I found myself on the Xavier roof for the Christmas Vigil. A dank concrete roof had been elegantly transformed into a haven of worship and celebration with lights, plants, decorative fabrics and the Eucharist . Students, villagers and faculty all came together under the stars before a baby cradled in a manger dressed in palm leaves. Words merely dilute the beauty of this night, and the photographs only mute the passion of how the Chuukese welcome the birth of Christ…. another way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.

On Christmas morning, the senior boys that had stayed on campus prepared a brunch for all of us – eggs, bacon, rice, spam, cereal and apples - a far cry from a quiet breakfast of Grandpa’s & Nana’s infamous pita fritas – gathered around the table with my parents, grandparents and Michael Edward in the comforts of home…. quite the contrast from a room and porch full of about 45 people - a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.

After brunch we loaded up the bus and flatbed truck and headed into town to sing Christmas carols at the local hospital and prison. Christmas has always been comfortable – a time to kick back, eat so much food and spend q.t. with the family. Instead, I found myself serenading the bedridden, and looking in the eyes and shaking the hands of people who have taken the life of another. That is powerful – and a way in which I have never before celebrated Christmas.

The day after Christmas, the faculty, and our visitors (my community mate’s parents and 2 JVI’s from Pohnpeii) boarded three motor boats and took a surreal trip across the lagoon to the outer reef. The boats dropped us off, turned around and headed back to Weno, effectively leaving us stranded for 2 days. If ever there was a deserted island to be stranded on – this IS the place to be. We landed ashore and our jaws just dropped. Our acclimation process did not take long – as we explored the island no larger than the size of a standard track - we found 2 little houses with beds, 2 bathroom huts, a dining hut and a cook hut. By any standards – Chuukese or American Pisar is a RESORT! Our lazy days were filled with lounging around in the hammocks, snorkeling, exploring the outer reef, navigating the 3 surrounding (also deserted) islands, learning to play the ukelele, enjoying some island cocktails and spear fishing – oh man we were so spoiled! Mmmm Pisar – amazing – something I’ve never done before period never mind a way I’ve never celebrated Christmas.

It’s been a beautiful week and a much needed break (and break from the students – who have currently been shipped out to Pisar for New Year’s with the thought in mind that they cannot get themselves in too much trouble!! I’m interested to hear how Father Arthur (our director) has handled 18 boys all alone on one island!!) And it’s been a most memorable Christmas in so many ways that I would have never expected. Of course it’s so hard calling home and hearing the family celebrate without you, but this Christmas carried with it profound meaning that has tested my strength, my comfort zones and my faith.

I pray that you and your family had a blessed Christmas and may the Lord continue to bless you and carry you into 2006. May there be peace in your hearts and may the light of the Lord continue to illuminate the path before your feet. My Love and Prayers are with you during the holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Look at me

One might think that the excitement I felt after my ladies won the championship would at least double after the gentlemen’s team brought home the gold just two days later. However, I unfortunately found myself bound by a resentment that not only marred my experience of the game, but continues to corrode a small part of who I am as a female in this culture.

The only differences between the ladies championship game and a ladies regular season game were the heightened number of and enthusiasm from the fans, and the eruption of celebration that ensued after the victory bucket. I figured that given the less individualistic nature of these cultures, the atmosphere of a championship game would naturally defy the level of intensity that I was expecting. Hence, my reaction was a quick paragraph of muted emotion, careful not to show a pride disproportionate to the importance Micronesians placed on the game. But I was sadly disillusioned when I stepped back into the Chuuk High, freshly painted, pristine and absolutely packed gym on Friday afternoon. My excitement and anticipation for watching the game as a fan in the crowd, instead of as a coach or scorekeeper were gradually drained out of me as I let the acrimony, and irritation simmer. The Xavier corner of the gym was packed with so many fans including the Director of the school, the principal, the cooks, the dean, the secretary and the treasurer, that they were practically spilling out onto the court. (This is even in spite of the fact that none of the freshman class was there due to their Community Service Project weekend.) The opposite wall was lined, rows deep with Chuuk High fans and locals that came out of the woodwork to see what all the hype was about. Before the game started, the referee announced the individual player names of both teams and had them line up and shake hands at mid-court and for the next 40 minutes, the gym, being acoustically unfit to support so many screaming supporters, shook with deafening noise.

Perhaps the most painful sites were those in which grown women put themselves on display, dancing, screaming and laughing hysterically. I realize the paradox in that statement, and the thing is, it’s wonderful to see women enjoying themselves. However, I was already seething from the blatant discrimination against the ladies teams, and then to make the direct connection between how countless offenses like this build up and explode into such a visible manifestation of the desire for expression, was agonizing. Knowing that their borderline immature behavior was a direct result of the roles they are forced to fill has made it very hard to watch and share in their pleasure.

This bitterness came full circle once I sat down to read my sophomore exam essays. One of the questions dealt with the treatment of women in the novels we have studied, and asked the students to additionally comment on how this compares to the way women are treated in their culture. Perhaps it was a selfishly asked question, as I was more interested in their comments as opposed to their reflection on the novels, but I should not have been surprised by the answers. Granted the answers did vary (some students feeling that women were treated equally, or even superior to men), but there were several that contained a commonly repeated theme. I received answers such as:

“Women just cook, wash clothes, and sweep. But if they didn’t men would starve, stink and be filthy. Women are not glorified but they do play an important role in life.” (Pohnpeian male)
“In some cultures like mine, I-Kiribati, the women are last. They are equal, but during feasts, traditions and assemblies they don’t’ have power over anything.” (Marshallese male)
“Women are inferior to men.” (Chuukese female)
“Women are expected to obey and respect men willingly. They aren’t suppose to do anything that offends men (ex: wear shorts, pants, answer back, walk around.) Husbands can also fool around while the wives are at home being faithful. Women aren’t also expected to take higher positions than their male relatives. In everything we do, males are supposed to be superior.” (Chuukese female)
“In my culture, [ladies] have more privilege. Women today in my culture cannot walk by when there is a brother of theirs sitting. As a sign of respect they kneel and walk on the knees. But unlike the men, ladies do more chores in the house then men. Ladies would have to wait for the men to finish eating, than she could eat.” (Chuukese male)

It is so obvious how the gender roles here in the FSM and throughout the Pacific are so rigidly defined. Americans can make jokes about women belonging in the kitchen, or cleaning up after them, but here – there is nothing funny about it – that’s how it is. I’m used to jumping in and helping out because there is work to be done, but lifting something heavy is a man’s job, and someone will promptly remove it from my hand saying “You don’t know how it’s done around here.” Likewise you would never see a man preparing food unless he’s out by the barbeque, because that is a women’s job. I think this is why women seize the opportunity to let loose and act the way they do at events like this because they are constrained by the way Micronesians define gender. It is not so much the pure expression of excitement, but a disguised expression of pent-up frustration – anything to make the statement that says “Look at me – I’m more than what I cook, what I clean, who I take care of and who I respect.”

Part of me wants to make excuses for the way thing worked out with the game. It was partly my fault for not seeing to it that the men’s and women’s championship games were handled comparably – now I know for next year. There was no school on Friday so it was easier for more people to come down and watch. The men’s game was actually against Chuuk High, where as the ladies played Saramen Chuuk, so it would make sense they would spruce up their own gym and draw a larger crowd. But there is another part of me that can attribute this difference to none other than the double standard to which women are held. They are not expected to be athletes. They are not expected to be aggressive. They are not expected to be on display.

WOO WOO WOO WOOO!!!

I apologize for the spotanaeity of this post - BUT WE JUST WON THE CHAMPIONSHIPPPPPP!!!!! MY LADY NAVIGATORS TOOK THE TITLE!!!!!! i'm working on putting a few new pics up - but you can see my little champions all suited up!!!! IT WAS A NAIL BITER - they took it 29-27 against rivals Saramen Chuuk - of course that scoreboard shot is in there!! HA HA - oh man i'm soo proud!!!! :-)

Amazing Grace

Exams are now underway which effectively marks the end of the first semester. It cannot be possible that it has been four months that I’ve been here already, nor can it be possible that I have survived half a year as a teacher!!!!! Mmm don’t be fooled – I hope that you are not as gullible as my students!

This past Friday I was reviewing for exams with my freshman class. The bulk of the exam was essays on themes we had covered in the novels that we read, in addition to one of my own personal favorites – ah you know me to well!! Of course I’ve found a way to sneak Living with Passion into the curriculum, and in reviewing I find myself in up on my soapbox going off on this tirade trying to impress upon them the importance of living their lives as a gift to God, and using every ounce of this opportunity that they have to be here at Xavier……so I finally finish my diatribe and it was the sweetest thing – too cute not to share….but so there’s dead silence right? not the blank stare – I have no idea what you’re talking about silence…. but the kind where it takes a minute to sit and absorb before the formation of verbal acknowledgement is possible….. and somewhere in between the seconds it took for me to identify the type of silence, and for them to process….from the back of the classroom comes a lone applause that infectiously sweeps through the room, and the whole class erupts…..ha ha – it was absolutely adorable. Now I have yet to look over the exams to determine whether it was a confirmation of comprehension, or just a seized opportunity to get rowdy, but it was an unforgettable moment nonetheless.

The latter could have been a very reasonable explanation as this past weekend was spent celebrating the Xavier Day festivities, so the last thing the students wanted to focus on was exams. Every year around this time the school celebrates the feast day of St. Francis Xavier with alumni, food and heated competitions. 2005-2006 gives special cause for celebration as it is a year of the Jesuit Jubilee – the 500 anniversary of the birth of Blessed Pierre Favre and St. Francis Xavier, and the 450 anniversary of the death of St. Ignatius Loyola. Now to try and explain this day to you would do a great disservice to the energy, the spirit and simply indescribable beauty. The best I can do is to steal the image depicted by Dwyer – my community mate. He said that the feeling that he got from this Saturday was such that if you looked at the world from outer space, Xavier High School, Chuuk, Micronesia, Mabuchi hill could have been spotted. It was radiating so much light, so much fire – that the iridescence would have been very obviously visible, even from that far away. The Kingdom of God was here.

Impossible? Not if you were here. You start the day with mass – in which students transform a dusty, dimly lit rec house into a glorious dwelling place of the Lord. From there you watch all the teams, (My sophomore Orionz class and the Junior class teamed up (team Loyola), and the Senior & Freshman classes team up (Xavier) – and for the first time, the faculty jumped in as team Faber) parade onto the field. Now let me preface this next part by saying that you were woken up earlier today around 6 in the morning by the sound of students chopping down the bamboo just behind your house, and suddenly in this moment as the swarm settles into teams of red, white and Carolina blue you realize why. As three Palauan students step up the mic and begin singing the national anthem of their island nation, the tip of the bamboo stick slowly reveals a Palauan flag being draped from the roof of the building overlooking those gathered for the opening ceremony. As you realize what is going on, you identify the flag bearer, and the senior Palauan assumes his position on the roof securing the lone flag. Next the Marshallese step up and sing their national anthem as their senior Marshallese rep brings his flag forward. Lastly reps from each of the four federated states sing of their allegiance and five other flag bearers step forward, all shirtless with Xavier being spelled out across their chests. You can feel the chills cascade down your back as the poignancy of this image settles in.

The moment escapes you just as quickly as it entered your consciousness, and with that, the games begin. Hours of intense rivalry, trash-talking, faculty humiliation and serious intra-scholastic competition fill the better part of the morning and afternoon. Though you are in your glory with the quasi-track meet type atmosphere, you are equally enthralled by the hot-ramen eating contest, palm leaf basket-weaving contest and dizzy race that provides levity amidst the tension of sparring sides. Even more humorous, but in the cutest way possible is the fact that the faculty, maintenance & repair, and the cooks still don’t number more than 25 – thus relying on the alumni & fans that have come to watch makes for some of the most adorable relay races you’ve ever seen - Older ladies in a dress down past their knees shuffling around the field to pass the stick off to the anchor leg - an older gentleman whose tucked in shirt accentuates his protruding beer belly, but whose smile indicates that he is not phased by the sizable margin he needs to make up to place second to last. You try as best you can to look and act normal, but you can not suppress the pulsating feeling of being very consciously aware of the fact that you are ALIVE –a feeling that spills out through the expression on your face and makes it appear as though you are walking around with a hanger in your mouth! But as you scan the crowd - as you step back for a minute to absorb the glory of the moment, you draw two possible conclusions: either someone is supplying hangers, or the water has been spiked.

As the final events are completed and points tallied, the day closes much the same way it opened – with a crowd gathering around the “podium.” But this time there is no segregation by color. As excited as your Orionz are to have defeated the seniors, it seems inconsequential to the more important ritual underway. If you listen close enough, you can hear bricks caving in, mortar melting, and the fragments crumbling underfoot even as “The World’s Greatest” streams from the speakers.

You know how after a basketball game, two teams of about 12 players each line up for a congratulatory handshake? Ok so instead of a line it’s an enormous mass of people, and instead of twenty four athletes, it’s 150, and instead of a handshake, it’s hugs and tears. For the first time since you’ve been here you are given this outlet for expressing how much these students and these co-workers have affected your life and so you seize the opportunity and follow their lead. It was almost as if you spoke volumes within a span of 7 minutes. To make eye contact with someone, to see the look on their face reciprocating your sentiments, to invite them in by stretching out your arms, and then in a moment of vulnerability collapse into an endless narrative of how beautiful they are by smothering with a very simple, and speechless gesture. There is no need to question motives, not even the slightest motion to second-guess – absolutely nothing inappropriate but the amount of time allotted to “congratulate” an inordinate number of people.

Sitting down does nothing to settle the rush and the words coming from the mic are nothing more than distracting noises in your serene moment. You look at the faces - some of the eyes red from tears. You can relate to the emotion. You wonder what they are thinking. Are they savoring it? Are they trying their best to hold on to what the ephemeral nature of moments this powerful try to steal away. Do they know? How much do they understand? What will they do with it? Where will it take them? Look how gorgeous they are….
The closing speech ends, and as the SBA president gives the instructions, a circle begins to form that spans the entire field. Then in a moment of weakness, you feel the tears start to flood your eyes but you cannot wipe them off your face because your hands are tightly grasped by the two students on either side of you. You recognize the first notes of Amazing Grace and consider chiming in. However, arrested by the pure glimpse of heaven before you resolve to listen, and take it all in.

Falling

Falling
I’ve been told to be careful. I’ve been told not to go looking for it. I’ve been told that it will come when I least expect it. I’ve been told that if it happens to you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. I’ve been told it only comes once in a lifetime. I trusted it would happen sooner or later…I have fallen in love. I was careful, but I suppose I did go looking for it. It is a love I’ve never felt before but I hope and pray that it is not limited to just this once….Beautiful brown eyes, that as dark as they are do not come close to masking the fire within them. They exude an irrepressible passion. A personality so alive and willing to make manifest all that lies within. A humility still teetering the line between modesty and confidence. A multitude of talents each complemented by the desire to pursue and cultivate. Smile like the sun. 5’4. Her name is Lu-A.

For our JVI retreat this year, we decided to hike up to the top of Wetipon – the 2nd tallest mountain (if you want to call it that) on Weno…camp out for the night and then the next day do a walking stations of the cross around the island. We were supposed to leave around 4:30 on Friday to try and get up there before dark. On this particular Friday, right after school let out around 3:00 – my precious Lu-A stepped into my office and we began chatting. For those of you who haven’t met Lu-A yet, she is one of the smartest, most athletically talented and beautiful Palauan freshman at Xavier. She’s the top in her class, co-captain of the basketball team, and one of the stars not to mention one of the most articulate and genuine kids here.

So this afternoon, the conversation just came out of left field and brought me to my knees. We started just talking about basketball I think, and it spiraled into this heartfelt conversation about her family, her parents, how she came here to Xavier – what it was like to say goodbye to her niece…. how her father was crying as he let her go….. then she started crying – and I started crying (as unsuccessfully as I tried not to) – but it was absolutely beautiful….just to see and feel that raw emotion – and to be able to relate to it. It was not just the leaving – I mean obviously – all of us here have gone through that in some way – leaving all that is familiar – leaving part of our identity for the sake of becoming part of this new community here at Xavier. I have no room to complain about that – or even praise myself …..these kids are doing it at 14 – I should be able to handle it at 22!! But I could empathize with her in knowing what it’s like to have parents, to have people at home who are soo proud of you…and who don’t just tell you…..but who show you they love you in every way they know how…….

After trying desperately to pick up the pieces of my melted heart off the floor, I was rushing around throwing stuff in a bag for the night……we left around 5:00…and timed our hike perfectly such that we crested the mountain in time to see the sun setting. We claimed our ground at this rocky clearing and just soaked it in…….my words fail me here……….we could look out over the island – we could see Xavier down below. We could see nothing but horizon out ahead. We could see nothing but vastness speckled with millions of nascent stars overhead.

A hearty dinner of spaghettio’s cooked on our hard-earned fire satisfied us enough to gaze out on the lagoon in reflection for the rest of the evening. One of my community mates led reflection, and after he was finished, he pulled out this envelope filled with letters. Apparently, he had gone around and asked the students to write if they wanted to say a few words to us on our retreat. If I wasn’t floored already, I hit a new all time low (and by low I mean ultimate HIGH) It was absolutely amazing – for him to think of that, and for so many students to cooperate with him. A whole school of high school students showing me the Lord’s face. I thought I was supposed to be their source of guidance, their teacher, their mentor. I seriously underestimated the Lord and his vessels.

Hi Jacky! How are you? I hope you really enjoy your retreat. Remember to open and share to those people that come with you, an also trust them. Please remember all of the Orionz (My sophomore class!) in your prayers especially me to that God may help us to improve our grades next quarter. Anyways, thanks for everything that you have done for us during the first quarter. And to be honest, the Orionz really consider you as our mom and we really love you. Okay bye love always Bireen Francis #22 God Bless You!!

* * *

We fell asleep under the stars. From where we were laying, even the STARS reflected in the water. Now I’ve seen moonbeams bouncing off the water, but never stars….. yes – EVEN the stars!!!!! I’ll admit I’ve slept on softer ground – I woke up periodically trying to find the best way to fit my back comfortable into the groove of the rocks. But it wasn’t an annoying disturbance, because each time I woke up – I looked up, and looked out and was gently reminded of where I was. Once it started getting light out, I went around and woke everyone else up to let them know the sun was rising…..groggily we all sat at the edge of the mountain and watched it rise together…….. ha ha – yeah I know……where am I?

No seriously, where am I? How is it that I was chosen to be here? I left trying to escape the status and the privilege that only a small minority of this world enjoy. While I’ll never completely be able to disentangle myself from it, I’ve somehow found myself more deeply steeped in it… to be surrounded by the amazing people here – to be able to live in and explore a natural paradise…. I’m even more privileged being here… So much so that I often question how it is that I am working for social justice. It doesn’t feel like service – is that because there eventually becomes an every dayness about it??? Or is that because in actuality, it’s really not service at all?? I came here thinking it would be service – fulfilling my devotion to the Lord – serving his people. That was the draw of JVI, but once I got here – to my dismay, I find out it’s all just a ploy – for the Lord to get me out here so that He can bless me with even more. That frustrates me – being tricked.

* * *

I once went to Fries, Va. with a very wise man - Dr. Dickie Flerg his name. Months….even years later he continues to touch my life… Greg Mellor sent me a beautiful letter a few weeks ago just before we left for our faculty retreat. (oh yeah so our faculty retreat 2 weeks earlier– the best way I could describe it:
You are on a private secluded beach looking out at the crystal blue water speckled with tiny distant islands on the horizon. The only obstruction - the coconut trees that frame your panorama. They not only drape into your peripheral vision, but they surround you on all sides forming this protective layer between you and the intrusive sun. The breeze sweeps over you, rinsing your soul – becoming one with your breath. The sun’s rays mercilessly seize control of the defenseless clouds who surrender to shades of lavender and rose. You dig your feet into the sand in preparation for the spectacle that is about to take place. A voice gently lures you back to the reality at hand, “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” And mass begins. mmm yeah kind of like that!!)
On a double sided sheet of blue paper he sent a lovely poem written by one of the prisoners he worked with in Sacramento. Through God’s providence, I did not flip the paper over to see the contents of the other side until a moment when it would touch me most deeply. Thank you Greg, for your forethought, and your ability to let God use you to show others His face!!
The paper spilled out of my journal and it was 2 weeks later – after this JVI retreat weekend that I saw there was another side to the paper, and read these words….

Trust the Slow Work of God
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
We are, quite naturally,
impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being
on the way to something unknown,
something new,
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability
And that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually
let them grow,
let them shape themselves,
without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today
what time (that is to say, grace and
circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
an accept the anxiety of
feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.

I know its much easier said than done. What I expected, and wanted to happen quickly and instantly has taken over three months to come to fruition, and it’s still only a fraction of a tip of the iceburg. The road is so long, and so often there is no end in sight, with no tangible consolation or reassurance. But TRUST the process. Give God the time He needs to work within you. Of course I have so much ahead of me, the hardest I’m sure I’ve yet to face, however these moments, this weekend has inspired a renewed patience, a revived belief, an invigorated trust in His slow work.

Whatnot

I know that given the irony of my situation - fooling these unsuspecting freshman and sophomores into actually believing my convincing performance as a literature teacher - one would assume that embarrassing/funny stories would inevitably come with the territory. Besides who am I to object to a little levity in the classroom?

So my sophomores (and myself only a few steps ahead!) have been wandering through the trials and triumphs of the legendary Odysseus in his epic tale of The Odyssey. One can never be sure just HOW much the students are absorbing, especially since very few like to step up and ask questions. The English skills teacher and I had decided to team up in using some themes from The Odyssey for a graded writing assignment in his class. Now you have to understand that high schoolers at any age have an uncanny ability not so much to always absorb the information you are giving them, but to absorb little things about the way you talk, the words you use or quirky mannerisms. So the English skills teacher was talking with the sophomores about this assignment and inquired into what the word “Whatnot” meant. Apparently this is a word I use quite frequently without even knowing it – I suppose like a stall word. So they were like “Yeah Jaclyn uses it all the time and we’re not quite sure what it means.” So Chris responded, “well it means the same thing as saying etc. – do you know what that means?”
“Yeah. Ok. Now that makes sense – for a while I thought Whatnot was another character in the story!!!” J

“It is not an abundance of knowledge that fills and satisfies the soul but rather an interior understanding and savoring of things.” ~St. Ignatius Loyola (given to me by the one and only Trent Pomplun!!THANK YOUU!!) Mmmmm how true!

Lucent Obstruction

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

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

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

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

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

Dilluchei

Her name is Dilluchei Kikuo and she goes by LuA. She nearly brought me to tears. Every Wednesday morning is a sponsored mass. One week by the seniors, next by the juniors and so on. This week was the Freshman sponsored mass. This girl is absolutely beautiful - one of my athletes on the basketball team, one of the brightest in my class....we even share a common bond - our love of Winnie the Pooh.....Sometimes God works through people when we least expect it. She delivered a message this particular Wednesday that I so desperately needed to hear. If she can do it at 14, there is no reason that I can't do it at 22.

Wednesday September 28, 2005


The Gospel of Luke 9: 57-62

As Jesus and his disciples were making their way along, someone said to Jesus, “I will be your follower wherever you go.” Jesus said to him, “Te foxes have lairs, the birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Come after me.” The man replied, “Let me bury my father first.” Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their dead; come away and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Yet another said to him, “ I will be your follower, Lord, but first let me take leave of my people at home.” Jesus answered him, “Whoever puts his hand to the plow but keeps looking back is unfit for the reign of God.”

LuA’s Homily

Upon reflecting on the Gospel, the only thing that comes to my mind is leaving things behind. I consider us who are here right now courageous, ambitious and brave people. Why? It’s because we lefts our homes and everything and we all came to this one place for the same purpose. That is to continue our journey of learning and to further our education. It is not easy, that I know. But still, we mustered up enough courage to come. We left our loved ones and families who we love so much and enjoy being in their presence. We left our friends, whom some of us have known since our younger years and who have been our companions through the obstacles we’ve faced in our lives. We left the good things that can only be found back home. I don’t know about you, but in my case, I miss the food back at home. I bet the Palauans here are already tired of me saying, I really want to go back home because I really miss eating Bemermii, pizza, chicken nuggets and ice cream. Bemermii are these cheeseburger and fried back home that taste so incredibly good. When I was departing from Palau with my cousin, Kendall, he brought Bemermii with him. It was a midnight flight, so everybody was sleeping. But Kendall and I were really busy eating and enjoying. Then I kind of thought, “Man I cant believe this is going to be the last time for me to eat Bemermii this year.” I grew worried, but still I came, and I’m glad I did. I feel privileged to have come to this school. Anyway, not only food and families, we also had to leave behind our bad attitudes and behaviors that are of no use here. All we bring is our true selves. We bring the qualities that best define and show who we really are. on top of that, we also bring fond memories of home. Not to make us feel homesick, but to encourage us to do well and succeed in everything we do. So like Bryant said last week, Hang Loose. Don’t hold on too tight to your tree. For if you do, you may not hear God’s voice in your life. Hang Loose and let go of your tree, so you may answer God’s calling and carry out His will.

Thank You

2?

Ask any person and they’ll tell you five. The average individual has five fairly functional senses. While I am not going to dispute this statement, I’ve come to realize that for all these years, I’ve skirted by on two. This is not to sound ungrateful for my ability to see the finish line before me, to take note of the inflection in my favorite country song, to feel the shoulder of the person next to me beneath my hand, to smell the sweet fragrance of gingersnaps and goodness knows I do not take for granted my ability to taste them. However, since I have been here, I have become acutely aware of my “handicap” and consequential hindered ability to interpret my surroundings.
I knew it all along, but perhaps could not completely understand the extent to which I relied on the sense of human touch, and the sense of emotive expression until they were in short supply. There are few things that can parallel being wrapped up within the personal space between someone’s two arms. It is such a perfectly genuine expression of love. Not that this place isn’t full of love, but to feel comfortable enough to invade another’s boundary of security, and to let them in turn break through yours requires a mutual sense of love and trust that I think I have yet to find. These things take time. Relationships don’t just happen, but require cultivation and devotion. Creating a comfort zone demands an extensive amount of patience and discomfort. Of all the things that I miss here, being deprived of the human touch that came so abundantly and naturally at home is perhaps what I crave the most. Being able to hug someone because it’s the only way you know how to show them how beautiful they are….not having to think twice about a cultural taboo before or after shaking someone’s hand…..not having to determine whether someone else’s touch is inseparable from some ulterior motive….deriving strength from the blatant defiance of all biological principles – an immediate transference no simpler than through a point of contact….
And at those moments of pure vulnerability, or even ecstasy, I know no other outlet than through my emotions. However, Chuukese culture does not find the same gratification in the expression of emotion. That is not to say stoicism is the norm, as they are very animated, but when it comes to the manifestation of grief, or joy, I feel as though there is a discrepancy between they way they experience the world, and the extremes through which I have been accustomed to absorbing life. Thus, I often find myself suppressing tears, hiding stares of amazement, or stifling outbursts of excitement. I know that in time, I will find a medium through which to release all that is pent up within, but to be honest, I don’t want to compromise.