Taxi’s, Sashimi, Prison, and Pig Slaughter: Just a Day In The Life

***This should have been posted several days ago.. there was a problem with my internet connection...***

This past weekend was my first weekend with my host family, which translates into two entire days, uninterrupted by my training. No Americans, just Pohnpeians. I anticipated experiencing some interesting things, and in fact I did. Here are a few gems from my weekend:

Taxi’s

My first cab ride ever was just about a week ago in Hawaii when a whole group of us took a can down to Waikiki, but really I didn’t have to do anything but sit and pay my share (really expensive!). My first solo cab ride was two days ago here in Pohnpei, and let me tell you—it was quite a ride. It was Friday evening, and some of the volunteers and I had decided to go out to dinner together to celebrate the first birthday in our group: Ben W. I had told my Nohno that I would be home by 7:00, and my time was running thin. Since no one else seemed ready to leave, and I didn’t want to walk all the way alone (20 minutes or so), I decided to call a taxi (they do not call them “cab’s” here, only taxi’s). The only problem was, there are no real addresses here. I couldn’t even give the driver the name of the street I live on, because there is none. Another volunteer suggested I tell him my Nohno’s name, which I did, and he still had no clue. So I gave him a few landmarks that form a perimeter to my neighborhood, and he knew where to go. I told him I’d give him turn by turn directions when we got closer (praise GOD he spoke English).

Now, the first thing you need to know about taxi’s in Pohnpei is they are always communal. So, after we drove around for 15 minutes, getting me several kinds of lost and confused, he says, “Okay, now where?”.  I confessed that I had no clue where to go, that this was my first taxi ride, and that I was horribly confused. He and the only other remaining passenger laughed hysterically (not the most comforting response as curfew and dusk approaches), and  he graciously took me to one of my landmarks and I was then able to get my barings and get him to my street. As soon as we turned onto the street he says, “Ohhh, Christina!” as he realizes he knew all along where to take me. We all laughed about it and I paid my fare (which is luckily a flat rate- $1 anywhere in town), and I survived my first taxi in Pohnpei! Nohno and Kman loved the story, too.

Sashimi

So I’ve never been much of a fish person. Sure I’ll eat tuna salad sandwiches and the occasional salmon at a restaurant, but nothing could have prepared me for the fish I was served for Saturday lunch. First there was fried fish. And not fish fillet, but an entire fish, fins and eyeballs and all, plopped on my plate. I smiled and asked Nohno which parts were okay to eat and she demonstrated on her own. So I began to carefully pick at my fish (fortunately Americans have a reputation for eating very little—probably because they’ll also pretending to be full to avoid unpleasant foods) and I tell her “Eh met”. I’m full. Whew, another survival…or so I think.

“Oh no!” Nohno says, “Now sashimi.” Sashimi? I think, trying to remember what that means, when a bowl of raw fish chunks in placed in front of me. I try to smile, but really I’m horrified. There is no way I want to eat this. But even things I didn’t like that Nohno has made I ate, smiled, and pulled the “full” card. But this, I didn’t think I could even swallow this. I mean the shiny silver scales were still on the fish pieces! Both Kman and Nohno are staring at me, expectantly, so I pick up what I think is the smallest piece (turns out it was monstrous, but partially hidden under what was a miniscule piece in comparison) and put it into my mouth and attempt to chew. I’m certain that I will actually puke. I couldn’t remember a time I’d actually thrown up a food that I didn’t like. I’m so afraid of offending them, but I figure vomit will probably be the most offensive thing possible. So I make the universal “yucky” face. The table explodes with laughter. I charade out a question of where I should spit it, and Kman walks me over, almost falling on the floor with hysteria. Turns out it was okay that I didn’t like it, and as a bonus, Nohno has told the story to every person we’ve come into contact with since (and all the relatives she’s phoned just for that reason). I know it’s the story because she gets really animated and then acts out me panicking and the other person immediately laughs and I meet their gaze with a polite smile and a shrug. Evidently this American is very entertaining.

Prison

I know what you’re thinking, and no, I did not get arrested, nor did anyone else I know. However, just as every wide-eyed Peace Corps Trainee only dreams of, I was able to visit the Pohnpei prison today. And now I can finally cross that off my bucket list.

All week Nohno has been calling friends and carting me around to meet people, and Saturday night she says, “Tomorrow I take you to meet my brother.” No problem, I think. Then, while Kman and I are watching a movie (well, actually a bootleg Filipino soap opera with English subtitles) he says very quietly, “You know my uncle is in prison.” I think he’s joking, so I laugh. He doesn’t smile. “Yeah, he killed somebody.” Now I’m sure he’s joking. But nonetheless, I begin to worry.

As Nohno and I climb into our taxi, I ask her where we were going. “Prison”, she says plainly. Awesome.  So now it’s too late to tell her I don’t want to go, and just as I’m thinking I might ask her to go back, we pick up another passenger—a man with a giant machete (I will never get used to people just carrying these things around), who climbs in next to me, resting his machete between our two legs. This is my real life, folks.

So, with no escape options, I reluctantly go along. The prison is tucked away and has next to no security. No I.D. was taken from myself or Nohno, the officers were in street clothes and combat boots, and the fencing was reminiscent of my Middle School (which, if you know anything about Augusta Raa Middle School is almost a point in the Prison’s favor). I felt so the opposite of safe. But nonetheless, I helplessly follow Nohno to a completely unmonitored location where we sit and chat with her son. Well, actually I just sit, and occasionally smile when she gestures to me, but Nohno does all the talking, in Pohnpeian. That’s probably all as well, because I felt awkward enough without having to hear the personal details of the mother-son reunion. I guess it only seems logical to bring the American staying in your house to meet your potentially murderous (still don’t know if Kman was joking) son in prison. I don’t know why I didn’t expect this all along.

Pig Slaughtering

As I have mentioned before, I am constantly bombarded with animal sounds as I attempt to sleep at night—chickens, roosters, dogs, cats, and of course, pigs. Some of these animals are strays, others are raised by neighbors for the purpose of food. Micronesians may not have a lot of fresh vegetables, but they sure have fresh meats.

Anywho, the other night Nohno and I were sitting in the kitchen when I heard the most gut-wrenching sound of what I thought was a child being beaten (there isn’t glass on any of the windows so pretty much anything that happens outsides is immediately audible inside the house). After it went on for a minute or so, Nohno seemingly unaware, I asked her what it was. “Pig.” She says simply , and continues her task, not even looking up.

Now Micronesians are known for their inhumane killing of livestock, and that knowledge suddenly dawns on me at this moment. “Nohno,” I dare ask, “what is happening to that pig?”. “It is time to eat pig.” She declares, still uninterested. The horrible sounds continue, and she eventually sighs and says, “They always cry.” I may never be able to erase those sounds from my memory.

But on the bright side, the pig cries finally subsided, and tonight we ate the freshest BBQ pork and ribs I have ever had. YUM! Or, as they say in Pohnpeian, “Yo!”

Hope you enjoyed reading these stories as much as I loved living them!

--Christy