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.