We Are Big Babies

The meal of rice and lentils was done.  It was bedtime.  But we weren’t going to bed.  Uncle Larry sat on the saggy couch across from us, sprawled out like he just ran 26 miles.

“Is it late enough to go now, Larry?”

“No, they are still awake.  They are like men, milling around until they are tired.  Then they sleep.”

I sharpen my spear with a whetstone, while Ryan whittles his down with a file to create a better tip.  Larry is studying my rubber sling, which is far more inferior than his hand-made spear gun.  Soon it is 11:00 pm, and we decide the fish are sleeping now.

We walk down the road and pass Kiyus’s mom. 

“You are spearfishing?” She asked curiously and somewhat suspiciously.  “Make sure and come back before midnight, or they will come and get you.”

We all look at each other.  We quickly established an unspoken agreement that we would be back before midnight. 

The ocean was dimly lit by a half moon, and we could see a storm brewing on the northern horizon.  All of a sudden we felt much less brave than we did when we were talking back at the apartment.

Tyler speaks up.  “What if this is a big local prank?  Like they say that the fishing is best at midnight, and they are all hiding under the water waiting to scare us now.” 

For some reason, this seemed rather logical at the moment.

Our catch of the night.  Slow progress is still progress!

We could see the dark motion of waves breaking past the reef hundreds of feet out, which marked our destination.  Tyler had his one waterproof light, but its beam almost made it worse by illuminating the swaying seaweed and creepy sea cucumbers under the water.  We waded out farther and farther, and finally decided to don our snorkels. 

“You have to go under first.”

“You’re the one with the light, you go.”

“I’m not going first, you big babies.”

Finally we all submerged our masks and looked out under the inky black open ocean.  Somehow we all started laughing in our snorkels, and popped back out from under the water.

“What are we even doing right now?  This is definitely a local prank.”

Despite our timid-ness to the black ocean, we loaded our spears and closely followed the one beam of light.  We saw some shady fish were leaning up against an old scummy rock, smoking cigarettes and shooting the breeze.  Some were scowling at us and slurred foul language.  There was a nightclub playing loud music under a nearby rock, and fish were drunkenly stumbling out and whistling down an eel to take them home. 

The ocean is a different place at night.

Ryan thought that chilled underwear would be refreshing

Finally we spot a lone fish swimming slowly under a rock.  I load my spear and nail it, just as a breaker hits me and washes my away.  I frantically swim back to it, and after a few seconds I get it out of the water, strung through my spear.  Tyler swam a few feet ahead and accidentally kicked a sleeping fish.  They both shared an awkward moment, and Tyler loaded his spear and got his fish.  Sauntering back proudly to the school, we carried our catch and fried them up that night.  We had conquered the dark ocean and its sketchy nocturnal inhabitants. 

This morning we had big plans.  We got up late, slowly made breakfast, had a post breakfast nap, and then finally got our act together.  Armed with our machetes, we set out on another brave and dangerous endeavor, one that only the manliest men could accomplish.

Clearing our garden plot

We were making a garden.

After tons of hacking in the muddy tall grass, fighting off biting ants, and watching Uncle Larry yet again show us up in machete skills, we formed a patch of dirt that will soon be a vegetable garden.  In the humidity, we probably each sweated three Nalgene’s worth, and were covered with mud.  But it was nothing a good dip in the ocean couldn’t fix.

This evening was the going-away potluck for the evangelistic speaker.  It was a classic Kosraen feast, with lots of rice, soup, fried fish, salad, cucumbers, pies, coconut biscuits, papaya, fried rice, fried chicken, noodles, island pizza, potatoes, and other delicious things.  After the feast, we began a ceremony that included the giving of gifts from the women, and some songs and regards by the locals.  They gave them their heartfelt thanks and gave the speaker’s family the best they could offer.  Crafts, a feast, songs, and genuine words of thanks, and a special prayer where we all held hands around them and sang a song to bid them farewell, and that we may meet in heaven again.  Namy, one of the church elders, came and sat next to me.

becoming one with our machetes

“You know, we will do this for you when you leave.  A big feast, lots of gifts, and everything!  My brother is getting ivory stone to carve for you as a gift when you all leave.  Do you want a dolphin or a manta ray?  And I will have the women sew skirts for the girls in your family if you like.  Just let me know how many!”

 At the same time, a local came and dropped a heavy bag of tangerines at our feet, as well as some fresh bananas for us to take home.  Some of the 1^st graders were jumping on my lap, wanting to play “Trot Trot the Boss” again, laughing as I tried to speak in Kosraen to them and sticking a leafy branch in my face every time I messed up.  The evening was festive, and the Kosrean hospitality was in full display.

How am I going to do this.

How will I be able to leave?  These people are becoming my family.  

I looked over at Uncle Larry in the corner, merrily singing along to the music.  This man has shown the most selflessness out of anyone I know.  From the moment we arrived nervous and shy, he has invited us full range to his tangerine and coconut trees and would stop his work to show us how to make palm baskets, and always invites us to eat with him even though food is expensive.  He gave us a plot of land to make a garden with, and stops whatever he is doing to come and swim with us in the evenings.  He wants to make sure we have everything we need and is always willing to help with anything we ask.  The most amazing thing is that it is all done with a bright smile.  He WANTS to do it.  He never asks for anything in return. 

Reminds me of someone.

Peace from the tropics,

-River

Falling Up

The long awaited final friday bell rings.  School is out for the week.  Tyler, Ryan, and I all clomp upstairs and rip our shirts off.  I choose to open the freezer for no reason, just to feel the cold air on my body.

It is hot today.

Uncle Larry magically appears in our doorway, which is becoming a common theme for the locals here.  We are caught somewhat off guard as we are frying pancakes and piling bananas, ice cream, and the last of the peanut butter on them.  

"Ah, pancakes and ice cream and peanut butter!  Its like a Big Mac, yeah?" He proclaimed.  

"Uh, yeah!  Sort of I guess!"

After going through a whole box of pancake mix, we trundled over to Larry's place to pick some more the famous green tangerines.  We passed the pastor on our way.

"You climbing to get the tangerines?  Remember to fall up, not down!"

There was a communal chuckle.  Falling up is impossible. 

Uncle Larry was lounging on a tractor tire when we arrived.  "Take any tree!  I'll watch and catch you when you fall.  And remember to fall up, not down!

Déjà Vu.

Uncle Larry is a master tree climber.  Last time we got tangerines, I was expecting that we would maybe need to climb a few feet on the sturdy branches to reach them.  Turns out, the best tangerines reside on the top leaves of the tree, so an expedition must be made by climbing out precariously on the flimsy limbs while hanging on to a branch and faith itself.  I looked over a Larry.  He is hanging upside down by his legs, reaching out to pick tangerines below him.  

Three bags of plump, delicious tangerines later, we ran back to the apartment to get swimming gear.  It was time to fish!  Tyler and I swam out with our spears, and spent way to long trying to nail the quick fish.  It started to get hard, because for some reason I had noticed that we were being pulled by some kind of current.  I popped my head out of the water to look for Tyler, and found that we were in the middle of a big rain storm.  Sheets of rain and wind were blowing down, and we could hardly see the shore anymore.  Although we could still mostly touch the coral, the seas had gotten very rough and big waves were making it hard to stay steady in the water.  But fishing was fishing!  We moved a bit closer to shore and ended up both spearing our first fish.  

Lets just say that they look bigger under water.  "River, I got one!" I heard Tyler yell over the rain.  

"I got one too!"

We compared our fish, and they were about the same size.  About 4 inches.  A little sheepish, but stoked on our first hits, we fried them up to accompany our lentils and rice.  I think Tyler got half a bite out of his.  But soon we will be spearing Moby Dick!

Peace from the tropics,

-River

Teacher: 0 Question Mark: 1

“Ok.  So let’s look at this.  We need a punctuation mark at the end of this sentence.  What do you think we would use?”

I received a blank stare in return. 

“Ok, Mitchigo.  Lets look closer.  Is this sentence asking a question?”

She thought for what seemed like months.  “No,” she answered.

I shifted.  “Actually, yes.  Yes it is.  Its asking a question.  So what punctuation mark would we use?  We have four options up there on the board.”

She looked at me with another deep, soul-crushing blank stare. 

“Don’t look at me, look at the board.  Would we use an apostrophe?”

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  I could feel my blood vessels tightening. 

“No, you wouldn’t.  Those are to show possession, not to end a sentence.  Can you think of what you might use that ends a question?”

Another long, blank stare.  Finally she uttered, “exclamation point.”

My eye twitched.

“Alright Mitchigo, what if we used a question mark?  Would a question mark work?”

She shook her head. 

“Are you sure?  Would it make sense for a QUESTION mark to go at the end of a QUESTION?”  I could feel my body quivering as I tried to stay calm. 

Blank stare.

Writing Thank-You's for the books from Mom!

I have a new appreciation for teachers everywhere.  My class of 15 students are giving me a run for my money.  From the moment the bus comes to dump them all off at the school to the moment they all magically disappear in the same bus at 3:00 pm, they are a test of strength and character and common 4^th grade knowledge.  As routine goes, I leave our apartment above the school at 8:00, carrying a full Nalgene, my bible, my music journal, and a tangerine.  I make the short journey down the stairs into a sea of children, praying silently for strength and for the wisdom to be the teacher that I am most definitely not.  The bell rings, and the chaos begins.  The echoic classroom makes my 15 pupils sound like 150 as Nelly begins to yell “Teecha!  Are we playing spelling basketball today??” and as Holter is dust-mopping his body on the floor, and as Awee is using her scissors to cut up a flower into tiny pieces on the ground. 

I think that God only gives me just enough strength to teach exactly one day at a time.  When school gets out and I sit back at my desk, I am done.  But somehow I get through another day, and then another, and then another.  Maybe this is to teach me trust, the trust I will ultimately need to make it through the good times and bad times during the 9 months on this island of Kosrae.

Lesson plans for days

Ryan was a bit disappointed that I had to use the directions on the back of the spaghetti pack the other night.  Cooking is still survival, but we are learning.  Fried rice is becoming a staple, because we know how to run a rice cooker, put rice in a pan, and turn a dial.  Just recently we added some revolutionary lettuce and basil!  The Pastor will sometimes stop in and watch intently as we try and cook.  After my first egg rolled off the counter, I looked sheepishly at the pastor as I fetched another egg from the fridge.

“Just pour some kerosene around it and light it!” He suggested. 

We shared a laugh, which was a good distraction from my searing pan burning the rice.  We need a mom.

Freezing bananas

Fried rice is getting better...

Tonight our sink decided to join the cult of mysterium, just like our phone did.  Because of heavy rain all day, our sink and toilet water have a nice brown silt quality to them.  While washing dishes in the brackish water tonight, the faucet mysteriously stopped giving water.  This is extra mysterious when the water supply is gravity fed from a river up the mountain.  I backed away from the sink and sat on the couch for a while, talking about something probably super useless with Ryan and Tyler when all of a sudden the sink sputtered to life in the corner, merrily pouring water from its faucet.  “What is this witchcraft?” someone muttered.  In fact, just this moment as I am writing this I heard a strange sputter from the bathroom (A place where sputters aren’t usually good), and Ryan exclaiming some mild words of disgust directed towards the sink.

Finally the whole trio is here!  Tyler arrived neat and clean with a fragrant flower necklace, greeted by his fellow SM’s wearing sweaty tank tops, straw hats, and four days of beard.  His class of fourteen 1^st and 2^nd graders will also be a doozy.  Right now he is sitting at the table, eating out of the rice cooker and struggling about what he should call his blog. 

Tyler arrives! 

Peace from the tropics, and thanks for the care packages Mom and Haley!

-River

Tons of rain today

White Folk

"Psst!  Ryan!"  I whispered excitedly.

Ryan looked up from his plate of rice, cucumbers, and a sketchy chicken wing.  

"Look!  White people!"  I pointed to the bleachers next to us. 

 In the midst of a crowd of island-skinned Kosraens, there were two young-looking white folk around our age, one guy with red hair and a sweet beard and a girl wearing an island skirt and had the appearance of someone who was obviously not in their normal climate.  

Kun giving us a Kosrean-speaking lesson

See, we were at the last day of the Liberation Day games, and we had spent the morning watching different events and races put on by the different Kosraen Villages.  The first race we witnessed was strange, and it is still puzzling us to this day, spending many sleepless nights tossing and turning trying to figure it out what the purpose was.  The race went like this:  The man over the loudspeaker jumbled something in Kosraen, which prompted a number of elderly people to emerge from the stands.  They all lined up, and when the race started, they all just started walking.  They walked around the whole track, just like it was a sabbath afternoon and they were just getting fresh air.  The crowd was going nuts, and one of the men finally picked up and ran to the finish.  The crowd went crazy, and he went and laid down on a blanket that was set out before him on the field as they poured a bottle of water on him.

I looked at Ryan.  He had the same bewildered look on his face.

Soon after, we went the tent to look at the fruits and crafts people had brought.  Uncle Larry won many prizes for his breadfruit, mango, taro, and lettuce plants, so he was beaming with pride the whole morning. 

But back to the white people.

Doing laundry with my new palm basket

After the championship baseball game between villages Malem and Walung had started, we spotted the white people.  First let me say that there are no white people on this island, especially not Americans.  If there are, they are usually Australian.  

"Ryan, I'm going to go talk to them!"  

I went over to where they were sitting with Ryan following, and introduced myself.

Hi!  I noticed that you were whi....I mean, I just thought I'd come say hi, since there aren't many of...um...our kind here!" I stumbled.

He laughed.  "Good to meet Y'all!  Where you from?

Ah, yes. American! 

I miss this girl very much.

"Spokane, Washington!  We are a long ways from the Northwest." I replied.  We are student missionaries, teaching at the SDA school for a year.  You?"

"Peace Corps!  We're here for 2 years teaching also.  There are about 6 of us on this island.  We got our training in Hawaii, so they taught us in the language, teaching skills, and everything else we would need to know.  Where did you guys get your training?"

Ryan and I looked at each other.

"Well, actually we basically arrived here and started teaching two days later.  Not a lot of training." 

He was amazed.  "Heather, did you here that?  They didn't even have any training or anything, and they had to just start teaching basically when they got here.  And they have to teach all their subjects for their classes!"  

We talked for a while about the island and the people, and ended up exchanging emails.  It is amazing how simply talking to another American can make it feel like home, taking on the same challenges and experiencing the same change from comfortable United States to the wild island.  

Drinkin' coconut at Utwe Beach

Things are going good here.  My fever has subsided, and I feel much better, although nights have been lacking sleep lately, partially due to waning sickness effects, WEIRD dreams, and the occasional interruption by the "Mysterious Phone of Mystery" at 1:00 AM last night.  I woke up this morning, and my bed sheet was on the living room couch, where last I had it was under my covers when I went to sleep.  Maybe soon the nights will get more normal.  

It is the evangelistic series this week, so our speaker and his family came from California.  More Americans!  The meetings every night still seem to operate on island time, however, and we find that learning about the seven horns and the fires of Revelation can be a bit much for 2 hours.  

It is now time to make lesson plans for this coming week, and perhaps attempt to cook up some spaghetti for dinner!  You use the oven for that, right mom?

Peace from the tropics,

-River

The Mysterious Phone of Mystery

You know that shiver I talked about?  I think I may have linked it to something more solid and probable, using my super-detective skills and sharp thinking.  See, later that night when I was sleeping I woke up with more shivers that I knew what to do with, along with a good headache and a dizzy mind.

Ahh, yes.  A fever.  Of course!  I thought.

Long story short, I have contracted some sort of flu from any one of the numerous sources on this island, the most likely being a student.  My good mother had made sure that I packed lots of Ibuprofen and Nyquil, so this is why I still am probably alive and haven't surrendered my body to the combined heat of the equatorial humidity and the fever.  That early morning, I shuffled over to the pastor's house to tell him of my situation.
"Come in! Come in! Tuwoh (Good morning)!" He greeted.
"Tuwoh!  Pastor, I don't think I can teach today.  I woke up with a fever last night," I explained.
He all of a sudden looked very worried.  "Do we need to take you to the hospital?"
All I could think of when I pictured going to the Kosrae hospital was the HAI's (Hospital Acquired Infections) that I learned about in my nursing classes at WWU.
"No, no, I just need to rest.  Do you think we can find a substitute?"
He ended up teaching for me.  I gave him my lesson plan for the day and went back to sleep.  Around noon, I dazedly got up to make some noodles for lunch, and the Pastor came up and walked in to the apartment while his class ate their lunch.  I could tell by the look on his face that he was glad he was not a teacher.
"They are a handful, aren't they?" I said with a smile.
He replied, "Yes, they are a handful.  I had to send one to weed the flowers during reading as a punishment.  I also sent two kids home.  Some of them don't want to listen at all!"

Sounds about right.

Last night after my ibuprofen finally kicked in, I felt good enough to go get some fresh air.  I walked down to the ocean, past all the cooking fires and stray cats and frogs.  It felt good to breath in salt air coming in from the northwestern trade winds.  Ben's house right beside me was dark, but all of a sudden I heard a tiny "mew!".  We have been looking for a kitten as a pet for a while now, but no one likes cats here and they don't even want to touch them, so it is very hard.  But I could make out a small kitten shape among the rocks in the darkness, right close to Ben's back door.  Someone stirred in the house.  "Akaywoh!" I said, which means "good evening".  Ben peeked out his back door.

The Island Games

"Is this your kitten?  I have been looking for one."
"Hey man!  No.  If you can can catch it, you can have it," he laughed.
Ben went to get his flashlight, and we spent the next 30 minutes trying to catch the darting kitten.  It would go under the seawall rocks and pop out 10 feet away.  I felt like I was in a chase scene in one of those old slapstick comedies from the 1920's.  After lots of running and sneaking and a few standoffs with crabs, we gave up.  "Bring Larry and William and Kiyus tomorrow, they will help you."
No kitten yet, but I will keep you posted.  The hunt will continue.

walking to the game

We were woken up by a jubilant "good morning" given by Uncle Larry outside of our apartment today.    It is Liberation Day for Kosrae, and Larry came to take us to the baseball championship games.  "Come, get ready!  The games started at 9:00.  I will play soon, you can watch."  I downed some medicine, ate a tangerine and a banana, and grabbed my Nalgene as Larry led the way for Ryan and I.  We dove off into some trail in the jungle and magically appeared at the elementary school, where a bunch of locals were milling about, chewing and drinking coffee and practicing pitches.  We watched our sector win, and came back to the apartment to eat cup-o-noodles and bananas and peanut butter.  My fever decided to try and return through the medicine, so I ended up in my hammock to rest for a good while, only interrupted by occasional random church bells and the unexplainable ringing of the "Mysterious Phone of Mystery".

Actually, let me expound real quick on that.

This phone sits in the corner of our room, and it is supposedly linked up to the office phone (we later found out).  But it rings at random times, and every time we try to answer it a mysterious, inaudible voice mumbles on the other end for a few seconds, then hangs up.  Despite the eternal ear-shattering ring, we have decided to avoid answering it to evade further mystery and confusion.  We have yet to figure out who is trying to reach us and what they want from us, so therefore we have dubbed it "The Mysterious Phone of Mystery".

Uncle Larry

Kosrae is beginning to grow on me, although maybe slowly.  I turned on my bedside light for a total of  27 seconds and instantly I was being bombarded by little flying bugs, obviously craving my light.  Everything seems to be dimmed by sickness right now, but soon I should be back teaching my little chubs in no time.  Ryan and I discovered that we can buy a 1.5 gallon tub of ice cream for only kind've an unreasonable price, so spirits are still pretty high.  Also, our third man Tyler Hissong should be arriving around 3:00 pm on Monday next week, so we are pretty excited!

Peace from the tropics, and send us hand towels and chocolate if you so desire.

-River

The Shiver

It happened.  For the first time since I arrived, I experienced a real shiver.  It was brief, yes, but a shiver nonetheless.  Upon ascending from the ocean water this cloudy evening, my skin somehow felt cold enough to elicit a natural response to warm up my body, so it shivered, once!

Shivering is not one of those things that I thought I would take for granted.  But it is hotter than a stuffy upstairs room on Mercury sometimes, and even the ocean reef water is like a hot tub.

Moral of the story, be thankful when you shiver.  Some people never get to, at least when you live on Kosrae.

Peace from the palms!
-River

The Good, the Bad, and Butter.

"Excuse me!"

We turned around to see a car had stopped right where we were standing.  Its sunday evening, and we had just climbed up from jumping off a bridge into the bay, standing shirtless and wet.  

"Yes sir?" we replied to a man speaking from the front seat of his car.

"You are disobeying our religious practices.  As Sunday worshipers, we certainly do not swim on our day.  And also you should have your shirts on, its a disgrace on the Sunday!" He scolded.

"Oh but sir, we are SDA!" we said, remembering what Uncle Larry and Pastor Tarra told us about how it was perfectly fine to swim on Sunday on the island.

"So What!?  Its still not ok.  Put your shirts on!"

Confused, we put our shirts back on our wet backs, and biked back towards the school.  Almost to our road, we stopped by the shore to see the last remains of the sunset.  We saw Uncle Larry wading into the still waters of the reef.  The tide was low, so the ocean was quiet and the only waves were past the outer reef 100 yards out.  

"Uncle Larry, are you swimming?" We asked.

"Yes, you come join?"  

Already wet from the bridge jump, we waded into the still ocean water.  The afterglow was reflecting off the surface, making it hard to distinguish the sea from the sky.  We slid in the bathtub-temperature water, feeling like we were sitting in a cool hot spring pool.  Uncle Larry looked very relaxed.  

"The elders say that bathing in the warm salt water is healing for the bones," he said with a smile.  "I bath every time I get done working outside, it is very relaxing."  

We told him about our incident with the Protestant man, and he looked upset.  "He said that to you?  What did he look like?  Next time I will come with you and give him a piece of my mind.  He is just giving you trouble because you are American."

As darkness settled in over the water, the stars all of a sudden became unbelievably bright and clear.  I realized I hadn't really gazed at the stars yet on Kosrae, and I found that without any light pollution for thousands of miles, it was the brightest night sky I had ever seen.  We talked about the stars and constellations with Uncle Larry, and everything from the direction of Australia from Kosrae and the relationship between all of his sons and his daughters.  It was pitch black by the time we left the "hot springs", and we left our sage friend to the evening.  

There are good times and bad times right now.  The bad times often come in the morning, after dreams of missing family and girlfriends (ok, well, my girlfriend).  It is still hard to all of a sudden be woken up by a rooster at 6:00 am sharp, and realize that it will still be 9 months until you will see your family, girlfriend, and eat a taco bell burrito.  I sometimes lay there and wonder how I will conquer another day of 15 3rd-4th graders who some can barely read and write English and have no interest in listening to a American teacher say it.  I sometimes wish that it was May, and that we were about to board that United Airlines flight back to the States where we could see all those that we love.  I sometimes wish that I was done teaching, and I could go to 9111 S. Cedar Rim Lane and the pangs of America-sickness would be no more.  These are frequent right now, starting our second week in.  

That being said, the good times are really good.  Times when Uncle Larry calls us off the road for a dinner of fried fish and banana rice, and invites us to pick his tangerines, and when he stops his own work to teach us how to weave palm baskets (I made one of my own!).  And when our students recognize us at church, yelling "Teecha!  Teecha!" with big smiles on their faces.  And when heavy rain storms come and it summons all the giant, animated frogs that swim in the puddles.  And when little 1-year-old Shawn toddles up to give you a tiny fist bump.  And when we find a store that sells refrigerated BUTTER and CHEESE and ICE CREAM!  And when we find that Pastor Tarra and Uncle Larry have our backs when they realize that a local got upset at us, and they want to find out who did it so they can go stand up for our own religious beliefs and protect us in whatever way they can, even if its a small thing like this.  These times make me forget the bad ones, and I know that through the tough times, its these precious moments that will carry us over.  

Now to chow on fried ramen stir fry and sketchy Japanese ice cream!  Ryan has turned into a monster once he realized we have cockroaches.  I just witnessed him brutally murder one with a broom.  Cheers, and thank you for the prayers!  They are much needed and appreciated.

Peace from the tropics,

-River