Rolly and "Few Minutes Noodles"

Ryan and I are learning how to cook.  We discovered the phenomena of boiling water, as well its uses in making noodles soft.  Yes, Ryan and I have finally started to make ramen by ourselves.

"Few Minutes Noodles" are actually quite good.  I am convinced they came on the ship from Japan, since they are a little better than our Top Ramen at home.  We deep-fried breadfruit chips, which was one of our more successful endeavors.  Let me tell you briefly about breadfruit:  When raw, it tastes like  unsalted, refrigerated play-dough.  When deep-fried, it tastes like flat popcorn.  Its not prime either way, but it will do.  We went for a food run last night, and the pastor let us take the "school truck" into the village to the little market.  I squeezed into the mildew-y drivers seat, which was on the right side.  I looked at the stick shift and realized everything would be opposite.  After finding the headlights, grinding a few gears, and running over a frog, we were barreling down the jungle road to the market to buy rice and ramen.

We just finished our second day of teaching.  To be brutally honest, the morning was very difficult for me.  The kids are getting more used to a tall, deep-voiced American teacher, and I can't even give them an inch now.  Sometimes they will pretend like they can't understand me, and many of them are not even close to the level they should be at.  After teaching an unbelievable math class, I came up to my upstairs room above the school and laid on my bed during lunch, wondering how in the world I will survive for these long 9 months.  Everything all of a sudden became very overwhelming, and I began to feel very discouraged about the year and even a little bit trapped.  Daydreaming of the day I would fly back into the U.S., I straightened up and walked back into my classroom while my kids began to pile back into their desks from break.

That evening, I walked past the neighbors houses, who were all cooking over wood fires and feeding their pigs, and past Larry's house to the end of our little dirt road that ended at the ocean.   The sun had just set, but it was one of those afterglows that you could tell was the product of an unbelievable sunset.  little William Jr. was splashing in the quiet water, and the breakers rolled in off of the distant reef.  I looked West, towards Australia, and felt very far away from home.

"Where teacher Ryan?" Asked William.
"He is inside the apartment, eating his rice," I replied.  "Is the water warm?"
"Yes, very warm.  Do you swim right now?"
"No, just watching the sunset."
"You are too late."
"I know," I said with a laugh.  He laughed too.

Soon a local came up behind me and sat on the rocks next to me.  His name was Rolly.  He was a little older, and looked sage and wise.

"Are you going to fish right now?" He asked.
"No, I'm just watching the sunset."
"You are too late."
"I know."
We shared another smile, and he began to tell me about the ocean and the midnight fishermen, and the boats that come in from Japan and leave to Pohnpeii.  The words were few and far between, but it was peaceful as we watched the sun sink farther into the ocean.  I told him about coming here and how I was nervous, and about getting settled in and learning to live like an islander.

"It is hard at first, but give it time and you won't want to leave," he reassured.  "We had an SM one year who arrived at the apartment in Kosrae, and within ten minutes he came down and told me that he wanted to leave.  Sure enough, he flew out two days later.  We were all very sad and discouraged, because we needed a teacher for the school.  We wanted him to stay, but he made his choice."

As he left to go fishing, I mulled over these words and darkness settled in over the ocean and us, and I began to realize why I am here.  I cannot be pushed around by feelings and emotions, because the devil just might convince me that I am not needed here.  But I AM needed here.  These kids do not have a teacher without me, and although 9 months is long and home is very far away, this is my mission right now.  I am here for the islanders, and I have no business feeling discouraged when God has set out a task for me.  I will not let them down.

A Midnight Arrival

 Today was our first day here.  We arrived late yesterday due to a blown tire on the airplane, so we were stuck in Chuuk for 8 hours.  By the time we got back in the air, it was dark.  I could periodically see lights on the islands as we flew over, and some were just black masses in the ocean.  I woke from a jet-lag stupor to find that we were landing in Pohnpeii, the island before ours.  After take off, I watched out the window.  All of a sudden, I looked out and saw a dark and mountainous island with a small lighted runway in the distance.  I knew instantly by the shape of the island that it was Kosrae, and sure enough we headed that direction and landed on the short strip.  It was about midnight at this point, and we were tired.  Back home, we would have been just waking up for the morning.  After a rough landing and getting our bags from the sketchiest baggage claim I have ever seen, we walked outside into the hot and sticky night.  We were instantly greeted by a jolly man wearing a white pollo.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

“Yes, a Pastor Tarra. Do you know him?”

“Yep, that is me!”

I was relieved to know that we wouldn’t have to find a way to get to our school in the dark by ourselves.  His wife came over and placed flower rings on our heads, smelling very sweet and pungent.  He led us to his car, which was a overly-foreign white pickup, and helped us toss our heavy bags into the back. 

“All right, you next!” he proclaimed.

We rode in the back bed with his son and niece out of the lit airport and into the dark jungle road.  As we rode through the hot night air, we could see and hear locals calling out to us and the driver from their houses.  Native eyes stared at us when ever we passed a group walking down the road, barely visible in the night.  We could smell campfires and could see people out on their porch, laughing and eating while their kids swung on palms and walked down the narrow road.  I tried to make conversation with his son, but we were soon interrupted by a sharp turn onto a dirt road heading deeper into the jungle.  Potholes filled with rain water were everywhere, and the trees were alive with bugs and frogs.  Soon we arrived at the school and church compound.  We were led up to our “apartment” where we would be staying for the next year.  They had laid out fresh bananas and tangerines, as well as banana bread and jam for breakfast the next morning.  He showed us around the apartment, and was proud of the new toaster he just put in. 

“Can we drink from the tap water?” I asked.

“No, it comes from the river.”

The shower and toilet had its share of “river scum” in them, and I watched as a gecko scurried across the wall.  The rooms are hotter than the outdoors, since there is no air conditioning.  We spent some time unpacking, and finally went to sleep around 2:00 am.  The next morning, our body clocks woke us up at an overly decent time, and I jumped up to look outside at the scenery I couldn’t see the night before.  Right outside my window, someone was chopping down coconuts from a palm, and I looked up and saw a jungle-coated mountain against the deep blue equator sky.  I could hear crashing waves in the distance, and the roosters were hard at work being annoying.  After some bananas and homemade bread, we got ready for church and met lots of locals as they all piled out of pickups in front of the church. 

“Hi, my name is River! I am the new student missionary.  What’s your name?”

“Kjinquauw.”  They would say indecipherably.

“Very nice to meet you!”  I will never remember your name though.

Church lasted for a long time, and after we went out with the church family to local shacks to sing and pray with the sick elderly.  They somehow found out I had a guitar, and I was instantly recruited to play along with them.  We went to a couple homes, which usually consisted of one small empty room, some palms holding up beams, a water pump, and lots of chickens and dogs.  People don’t have much here.  After singing, we were able to borrow the pastor’s bikes to ride around on the island.  It was about sunset, and we rode down the neighborhoods on the main road.  It was fun to stop and talk with the locals that hang out in their yards and by the beach.  They were always pleased to hear that we were at the school, and that we were new.  “If you need anything, just let us know!  We can fish sometime and maybe find you a virgin island girl to marry!”  We even tried to pick a coconut, but a local man came and helped us get a ripe one.  Upon our night arrival back to the school, an older, skinny church member named Larry greeted us at the road by his house.  “I was about to come look for you, I was worried!  Have you eaten?  My wife just made this banana coconut rice.  Come try some!”  We didn’t argue.  “Would you like to eat local style?”

“Sure, of course!”

“Ok, so no forks, just hands.”

We ate delicious rice and fried whole fish with our hands, and talked about his family in his little one room shack.  After eating our fill, we had barely made it back to the school when the pastor told us to come to a feast at his wife’s parents house.  We hopped in the back of the pickup, hoping we could fit more food in our stomachs, because it would offend the host if we didn’t eat their food.  We arrived and were given each a coconut with a drinking hole drilled in, and we saw a whole roasted pig on the table, along with three different types of fried fish, raw tuna, teriyaki chicken kabobs, sirloin steak, pork ribs, beef rolls, chocolate cake, cucumbers, yellow watermelon, tara, breadfruit, more fish, and literally a bin of cooked rice.  We ate until we couldn’t eat anymore and then they made us fill two more plates to take back home.  We thanked them, and returned to our apartment and hung out with some of the sixth graders, who were pleased as punch when we tried to say their names.  That morning, I had been struggling with the thought of being here for 9 whole months.  I didn’t know anybody, and the whole place was strange, and I wanted to go home.  Now, I already feel like they are family.  Pastor Tarra, Peewee, Larry, Kun, Shawn, and Enclaou and all the other church family have already treated us so much like family, I can imagine that it will be very hard to leave come spring.

The Island of the Sleeping Lady

The island of Kosrae is nicknamed "The Island of the Sleeping Lady" because of the mountain ranges forming the shape of a supine women when looking at it from the ground.

I envy this sleeping lady, because my body awoke me up at 3:15 AM ready for the day.  We are 18 hours time difference here, and it is confusing my body clock.

Or perhaps it is the anxiety and excitement and nervousness, because in 30 minutes we are driving to the airport with all our things to get on our final flight to Kosrae.  We have been told that there may or may not be someone there to meet us on the island, and if not we can try and hop a cab to find the school.

I suppose this is the part where we take all our anxiety and worry and surrender them to the spirit of adventure and God's hand.  This is must be what real trust feels like, because I realize I am not very good at it yet.

In his service,
River Davis

Infants on Planes

After flying lots of miles with too many infants on board, we time traveled into Wednesday and arrived safe in our second-to-last stop, Guam.

 Boy, its so humid I could wring out the air....

Here is where we are going, by the way...

A Sketchy Transformation

Packing day.  Am I overpacking? Yes.  Do I have the courage to take anything out? Probably not.  Because you never know if you will need two things of scotch tape and four pocket knives and a whole barrel of hydrogen peroxide.  Stella (my guitar) will be keeping me company on my adventure, and for that I am happy.  

After finishing my final recordings before I leave, I figured I could share them here.  Its called "The Soundkeeper", and to the naked eye it may seem like a bunch of sleepy instrumental songs, but each track has echoes of my feelings and anticipations for this next year.  "Speaking Oceans" and "Trade Winds" are about trying to submerse myself into this island, and becoming not just a teacher but a friend and witness to these people.  "Satellites" is remembering and communicating with my loved ones back home, that I will miss so much.  "Waving Hello Again" and "Cedar Rim Lane" are both about what I might feel when I return home, and the feeling of belonging and melancholy that will come with the returning.  And the song "For Those Still Dreaming" is about the daydreams I will have of the island when I return home, and the potential longing to go back and visit my other family.  Go ahead and have a listen to these songs, it would mean a lot to me if I knew that others could connect.

http://riverdavis.bandcamp.com/album/the-soundkeeper-vol-1

At this time tomorrow I will be hauling two backpacks through the San Francisco Airport, probably lost and trying to find my gate to Honolulu.  Then two days in Guam, and finally we will toss ourselves towards the little island of Kosrae, where we will magically transform into professional school teachers and help run a small Adventist school.  Thanks to Mr. Duckett from UCAES for the books and sage wisdom on how to make this sketchy transformation!

I have been cramming in all the American things I can do before I leave tomorrow, such as eating a Taco Bell burrito as well as everything else in sight.  For next time I post, I will probably be somewhere between here and a third of the way around the globe, already well into my adventure.  Here's to modern technology, 737's, and the ability to reach these places to be a light for Christ!

In his service,

River Davis

6 Days and 15 Hours Until I Say "What Have I Gotten Myself Into?"

I really don't feel like a missionary yet.  It is probably because I am still sitting in my room with a plane ticket hanging out on my dresser, next to my iPod and coin jar, still sitting in its WWU Student Missions envelope.  My name is River Davis, and I am simply an ordinary 20-year-old who loves music and thrift shopping and Panda Express, and I am not cut out to be a missionary.

But God knows a thing or two about it, so I am not worried.

With trust, faith, and sacrifice to my own selfish desires, I can be used as a missionary if God desires that of me.  And from the looks of it, he does, because in exactly 6 days and 15 hours I will be stepping on a Boeing 737 to begin my journey to the 42-square-mile island of Kosrae, Micronesia to live for 10 months.  I will be a school teacher, teaching 3rd-4th graders how to
multiply
and read chapter books
and tell them where the deepest part of their ocean is
and where Everest is
and how their island came to be
and why a sentence must include at least a noun and verb to make sense
and who God is
and why he would love a little Kosraen kid like you.

I will be living off of Ramen, bananas, tangerines, breadfruit, fresh fish, and rain water.  I am responsible for cooking by myself, so thank goodness for the Ramen, since that is the extent of my cooking skills.

Thankfully, I will be accompanied by two of my friends, Ryan Thorpe and Tyler Hissong also from Walla Walla University.  Ryan is most well-known for making inedible lentils from sea water and his ability to grow semi-decent facial hair.  Tyler is famous for being able to climb impossible things (some I still don't believe in), surfing, and having dashing blond hair that does a terrible job of hiding his Florida origin.

Leaving behind family members and girlfriends alike as well as all the comforts of home and school, we are trusting that God can turn these three average college guys into something of beauty (hard to imagine, I know) and make us into missionary's for Him so that we can possibly shine a small light on this little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  And as much as we think we are prepared for such a seemingly reckless adventure, I have a feeling that we can do little to prepare ourselves for the wonder that God will work in us and Kosrae in the next 10 months.

This blog is the account of three adventurers on a mission to change lives and maybe experience a changed life in ourselves.  Prayer's are appreciated, because we can do little without our Father's hand guiding us in this mission.



Now, time to go stock up on chapstick and guitar strings and flip flops.  If you would like to follow these accounts, then we would love to keep you updated on our mission and time here in Kosrae!

In His Service,

River Davis