[There are no seasons here in Pohnpei. Pohnpeians will tell you that they can detect subtle changes in amount of rain or wind during a particular time of year, but to that I say, hogwash. It feels like July in Tampa every single day of my life. The consequence to this (aside from the perpetual heat stroke) is that there is no way to mark the passage of time; I simply exist in the perpetual summer. Months lose their meaning, I forget holidays, and I am constantly confused about how it can possibly be December when it is 96 degrees outside. So I decided, since I just did a huge cleaning spree, I should call it “Spring Cleaning”. Sure, it’s December, but it’s definitely not winter, so it may as well be spring. Go with it.]
There comes a time when living in a strange place that you suddenly feel the need to make the place your own. It happened during my time in my first home with my training family, about 6 weeks in. I had up to that point been living out of my suitcases and had not made any effort to make myself feel at home. One day I woke up and decided to hang up my skirts, stack my shirts on the floor in the corner, and take out some of my mementoes that I had brought from America. It marked a turning point in my adjustment, when I finally understood that I was actually staying here; that it was real. I figured I might as well get comfortable.
When I arrived at my permanent site, I almost immediately felt at home. I unpacked my belongings and put a lot of thought into where I would put everything. I skipped right ahead to making my room more homey. But the other day, on my first day of Winter Break (again, not really winter, but I don’t know what else to call it), as I lay on my bed reading, I suddenly and inexplicably had the desire to rearrange the furniture. Seriously, I know that sounds weird, but it’s something I’ve always liked to do, ever since I was a kid. I’ve always gotten a lot of joy out of a fresh change of scenery every once and a while. And, because I am my mother’s daughter, once I had the idea in my mind, I had to do it immediately.
So I spent the rest of the morning rummaging through everything in my room, reorganizing, maximizing space, purging unnecessary clutter, and then sweeping the floor (my mom always made me clean my room before I could rearrange it, so this procedure came instinctively). Then, I began dragging my furniture around. My furniture consists of a small metal-framed nightstand, a short wooden square table, a bulky easy-chair (I’m actually not at all sure how to describe this chair, except that it is almost identical to one I had in my house growing up, we called it “Sandy’s chair” after one of our dogs who liked to lay on it), and a double bed with a heavy hand-made wooden bedframe. And again, because I am my mother’s daughter, I thought it would be best to move all of these items by myself, without asking for any help whatsoever. In fact, in a very Kathleen-esque move, I closed my door while I was dragging everything around, so no one would notice and attempt to help me. Don’t ask me why, it’s just some weird matter of pride that my mother and I share.
Then, once everything was in place, I had to sweep again, as moving the bed had revealed a terrifying amount of dirt and grime. So much so, that I realized I would also need to mop. The only problem was that we don’t have a mop. The events that followed made me begin to contemplate the simple bits of technology we take for granted in America. (And yes, a mop is technology.) Because I spent the next forty-five minutes on my hands and knees, literally scrubbing my floor clean. Several family members stopped in my doorway to gawk at me cleaning. Evidently they were all very impressed. The kids especially liked when I skated around on a towel to dry the floor. And as I souvenir, I can no longer lift my right arm from the excruciating elbow and shoulder pain. Huzzah!
Anyway, long story short (well, not so short), I just completely rearranged and cleaned my room to the fullest. I’m not sure what change this marks in my development here as a Peace Corps Volunteer, but I’ll let you know when I figure it out. I do know one thing for sure though; it is definitely a good sign.
For your viewing pleasure, I’ve included pictures of my room. Enjoy!
Happy Cleaning!
--Christy
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