On the Road to Locality

A Tropical Christmas: Part II

      I also spent a good amount of time in Utwe (“oot-way”) at the Pastor's house there. They have their store and gas station there, as well. Right across from those is the famous white-sandy beach of Kosrae. I learned that the whole island used to have white sand. Then they built the airport, and it altered the beach around the whole island. It shrunk the beach and in many places changed the white to a reddish-brown color. This particular beach is very rocky along the whole way. So, swimming in higher tides can be treacherous.

      One of the things that I was looking forward for a month was net fishing. Finally, it was here. We walked down a quarter-mile or so from the house and had a prayer before starting. Mrs. Tara and Tekla, the Pastor's wife and young niece, walked out and set the net among the rocks while the rest of us watched. Once it was set, BeeWee and I started throwing rocks into the water. We threw them in, aiming from the shore to about five feet from the net, to scare the fish into the net. Then, we walked out to check our catch. When the fish are found stuck in the net they have to be silenced before untangling them so that they can't swim away upon release. BeeWee and Mrs. Tara quickly used their teeth to crack the skulls of the little fellows. “Woah!! Haha! That's awesome!” Much surprised laughter followed from myself. I plan to do it myself next time.

      We repeated this process two more times, finishing right in front of the store. During this process I found some sweet coral, failed at handstands among the waves with Tekla, and learned about a fish that I've already eaten before. If a person happens to get poked from the bones that protrude from the top of its fins, depending on the person, they will experience some extreme pain. It is felt throughout the entire body, and can last for a day, days, or a week. Usually, they have to go to the hospital to stop it. Being the person that I am, I thought first of the great defensive weapon that would be combined with a blow-dart gun. Anyway, thankfully the toxin is destroyed when you cook it. It is a tasty fish.

      When we finished we had sixteen decently-sized fish in a bag. “Wow! That's a lot!” Then they told me that they usually get a 20-lb rice bag full of fish. That's a lot. It would be for trout, anyway. Mrs. Tara asked me to pray when we all got back to shore.

“Dear God, thank you for this day. Thank you for helping us catch these fish. …”

      I don't remember the rest of the prayer because my mind was stuck on the meaning of what I had just said. How often do we include in our prayers, “Thank you for this food”? Myself, I have become so used to saying it that it's not as meaningful as it should be. I do always thank God for my food, but how can I not thank God when I have to rely on something like the chance that there are even fish in the netted area? It brings a new meaning to the prayer when we are relying on the land, on nature, to provide for us, especially when we are the ones doing the gathering. It's not very often that most of us do any gathering for ourselves anymore. Not as if we need to, since Walmart or Fred Meyer are just around the bend. I'm not saying that they are bad, per se, but it helps one to be very thankful for what they have, or what they catch, when one has to do the work to get it.

      Once we got back up to level ground we pulled some coconuts off their trees that are along the beach. We cracked them open on the rocks and drank happily. Once we were finished, we threw the empty coconut into the ocean; that is a true, classic soft drink.

      Last week, on Monday (2^nd) and Thursday (5^th), I attended two different family Christmases. On the Monday I witnessed a rather large chicken-grease fire. I also learned how to make a local plate. They are made, out of woven coconut leaves, and used for special occasions. Mine was really sad looking. I learned about women jobs in Kosrae (which infuriated me because they wouldn't let me help make something). I picked some fresh chilies. (Oh, I should probably use those. They are still in my refrigerator.) Then I ate a huge dinner on one of the plates.

      On the Thursday I learned the cultural background and reasons behind the original distinction between male and female jobs (I felt much better after this). I learned how, and helped make, a version of local soup: ground banana, coconut oil, and fish. Ate some more fish eyes; I learned that they taste better with salt. Helped make some local plates; these were far worse than my first try, somehow. Then I ate a ton of food, including but not limited to: chicken, cow, kang kong (a local plant that you might use in place of spinach for a salad), turkey tail, tapioca, soft taro, hard taro, banana bread, and breadfruit. I also learned that if someone doesn't eat very much food at a party, the maker(s) automatically think that person didn't like the food. In other words, it's good that my eyes (have always been) bigger than my stomach. In other news, Pa Cooper is determined to have me obese by time I leave here. “Your mom won't recognize you.” Yes, he did say that.

      There you have a good outline of my tropical Christmas (Part I & II). Obviously, I won't forget not doing anything on Christmas day. However, I believe the thing that I will remember most from this Christmas is that I became more Kosraen through my different experiences. As more than one local put it, though, “You're becoming local.” Now that is exciting.

A Truly Worthy Loss of Sleep

A Tropical Christmas: Part I

      My Christmas break was filled with interesting new experiences and a generous amount of learning more about Kosraen culture. There was also a good amount of lazing around. For the most part, I'm satisfied with how the break went, especially since I feel clear-minded and fresh. Third quarter starts tomorrow, and I'm ready to tackle it.

      The bulk of the “Christmas Spirit,” or feeling that Christmas was here – as opposed to somewhere else – came to me in the form of letters and packages. I honestly can't believe how many packages I received. Every package that I opened was opening a Christmas present, no matter what it contained. Not only was it like that for the Christmas-themed packages, but any packages and letters that I have received thus far, or will receive before I leave. I'm very thankful for my support group back home: my family, church, school, and all the friends in between. It's very obvious that I'm not the only one thankful for it. I see it in joy that the locals get from eating my chocolate/candy, Nutella, and Sriracha, among other things. (The two latter are going onto the list I'm composing of things that I will send them after I leave.) It was fun watching Sonia, the seven-year old daughter of Pa Cooper, last Wednesday night chug water to sooth the after-burn of Sriracha on fish (which is super tasty). That night I portioned out a baby jar of it for their family to use. Then yesterday Pa Cooper told me that they had already used it up!

      My Christmas day was really a sad thing. It marked the first year of doing absolutely nothing on that day. However, there was a good reason for it. On the Friday before, a 14-year old boy, Ichiro died. Even sadder was that his birthday was on Christmas. The original plan for Christmas was that our church was going to have a big Christmas dinner at around seven in the evening. During the hours before would be food preparation, for which I was excited to make two different things for, and playing different games with the kids. Due to the death, the pastor wisely post-poned the party till further notice.

In the week that followed I learned, and experienced a very valuable Kosraen tradition: the way that they mourn over a death. Firstly, because this is a small island everyone knows each other, and therefore a death is a big event. This island has always been a peaceful one (their are still no guns here), and so death usually comes from old age or a medical illness. In other words, it doesn't happen often. Then, because everyone knows everyone, many people come to support the family. In American culture this generally happens in the form of some type of formal service with a reception following sometime in the future. Happy memories are exchanged and then guests leave that day. Some relatives may stay around at the home for a couple of days, depending. In no way am I discrediting, or underrating this form of mourning. In no way. Here, though, I see them take it a step further.

      The day that someone dies, since it is normally as I mentioned above, they don't move the body out of the house. They may not move it at all, or they move it to the living room. (Most of the houses are a large center room with the small bedrooms off to the side.) For the next day the body stays there, and so do all the neighbors and members of their huge families. When the death is announced, before the people arrive, they buy something that they feel the family will need while they mourn for the next couple of months.

Something to consider is that originally food played a huge part in giving gifts. One family may have had a certain type of banana that another didn't. So, that was a reasonable gift. This has been carried over the generations and most of what is brought to the house is food. Rice, flour, sugar, fish, breadfruit, and much more. To this particular funeral somewhere around sixty 20-lb bags of rice were brought, 5-foot coolers of fish and/or chicken, and one night someone brought a 60 lb yellow-fin tuna they had caught that morning, to name just a few. It is part of their culture that the family that is suffering the loss has to feed everyone that comes. (As well, when a child is born, or a marriage happens, the receiving family has to cook for all the attendees. The basis of this is that a party/celebration/get-together is not this without food in their culture. Period.) However, because of the traditional giving, they don't have to get hardly anything themselves. That's the first part of this good tradition.

      As I said before, when a person dies, the neighbors and relatives stay there for most of the next day until the funeral. They stay up all night with the mourning family to mourn with them, help them through it, and eventually to keep their mind away from it. Different people that are there tell stories, one after another. Others may play games such as checkers (which they are champions at) and Rooke. (WHAT?! Non-Adventists playing Rooke? They really cherish Rooke when they have it because it's around $20 at the store.)

      Sadly, I didn't know about this until the day after. I would have willingly stayed up all night for this good cause, and to (selfishly) experience another part of Kosraen culture. Here comes the best part of the tradition: it doesn't end there! For at least the next two weeks people (again relatives and friends) come and hang around to help the mourning family, to keep their minds away from the heart-breaking loss. After the first night no one stays up all night (they may but aren't obligated to), but many will stay there playing games and talking until three or four in the morning. Everyone is there to support the family, whether they are playing games, talking with the family, or otherwise.

      They rent awnings, and plastic chairs and set them up around the house; rain or shine, baby. People cook at different times at the house, or somewhere else to be brought there. Always local soup, sasimi, breadfruit, chicken, rice. The bulk of the people trickle in from seven to midnight, most coming around ten.

I went the second night, and was set to stay up all night, but Pa Cooper informed me that they only do that the first night. I was sad that I missed that; we left around 11:30. The next week I went three more times. I'd get there around six, play games until leaving around two in the morning, wake up, laze around, then start over again. I was getting to know some more locals. I taught some young-in’s Dipstick (AKA King Queen Popper, which they loved), ERS (they loved more), Spoons, Nuts, and rather unsuccessfully, Monopoly Deal.

      Yes, one might think, I was just playing games. However, everyone present knows and remembers what we are there for. Most people may or may not admit that sometimes they just need someone there to comfort them. Imagine having thirty to fifty people just there, knowing they are there to support you in your loss, every night for two weeks. Now compare that to knowing the same amount of people support you in your loss from all different places. See the difference? I don't deny that it's a cultural thing, yet I can't help but appreciate it.

      This brings me to a sobering realization about this holiday: it's not about what you get, or what you see, but who you are with. (One can never realize this too many times.) At the first, this Christmas, really every Christmas, was about what I saw. In essence, the Christmas Spirit: the tree, the lights, the decorations, the snow (ah, how I miss it still), the cold. (Thank you very much to people who sent me some of those.) What I received instead of my “Christmas Spirit” was far better. I received a new Christmas Spirit; one that's adaptable to any Christmas, in any place. With it I can appreciate what I had this Christmas, and appreciate something more than I may have before back home.