Budget

There’s a game that the children love to play in my village that has become a daily exasperation, so I thought I’d share it with you all. The game is called “budget”, yes the English word, but no it has no relevance to the game (I couldn’t explain to you why, the world may never know). The game is very simple: anytime someone says “ehng” (yes) anyone is free to yell “Budget!” and then is entitled to some article from the victim (a bracelet, some of the food they’re eating, their pencil, etc.). The game extends to nonverbal forms of affirmation as well, such as nodding your head, giving a thumbs up, or raising your eyebrows (the Pohnpeian version of the head-nod, which unfortunately for me has become second-nature and completely involuntary at this point).  Let’s just say, I get “budget”-ed a lot. And as you might imagine, it can get a little annoying.

The way to win at the game is to ask your victim questions that you already know they will say ‘yes’ to (or at least you’re hoping they will say ‘yes’ to) and attempt to catch them off guard. And let me tell you, you must always be on guard. The way to avoid being “budget”-ed is to cleverly avoid saying ‘yes’, either by lying,  by restating their question as a statement (Are you hungry? I’m hungry.), or by elaborating on their question (Are you hot? I’m always hot./ I’m very hot./ You know I’m hot.)

The children never tire of this game. Ever. From the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to sleep, I am constantly on the defensive for Budget attacks. I’m usually safe if I’m in a group with no children below high school age, as the kids tend to grow out of it. But evidently sometimes age makes no difference, as I’ve even been ambushed by fellow teachers and some of my adult cousins. I think the adults are worse, actually. I’m never expecting it, so their attacks are usually met with a look of total shock, my mouth agape. They love that. So basically, the Budget madness never ends.

 It got so serious that I was forced to instate and post a new rule in every classroom I teach in (which is all of them), “This classroom is a Budget-free zone” (it reminded me of the Human vs. Zombie games at USF and the placards in the Marshall Center), but the kids rarely observe my request. It becomes a bit distracting, to say the least, when a child asks for clarification on an assignment, to which I respond with an eyebrow raise, and the child shouts, “budget!” and the entire class erupts in laughter. This is pretty much a daily (if not hourly) occurrence.

So eventually, I just caved. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?  Plus, my students absolutely go nuts when I “budget” one of them in class. They love it. However, it is widely understood that I do not participate in the taking of items, and they know that in turn, if they “budget” me, they will receive nothing. They seem okay with it. The kids simply enjoy they look of defeat and utter shame on my face when they are able to get me, which is essentially every time they try.

But on the bright side, it turns out Budget is actually a great way to practice Pohnpeian.  I’m constantly forced to think of new and creative ways to answer questions, and I am always thinking up ways to trick kids into saying ‘yes’. Plus, I have to pay very close attention. All of these factors point to more success and a greater command of the language. So I can’t hate it too much. Well, yes, I can still hate it. And I do.

As with any game, some kids are better at Budget than others. I prey on the weak. The young ones, usually. The older kids almost always outsmart me, so I need to occasional self-esteem boost. My biggest adversary is my 10 year old nephew Tristan. He is Budget King. One day, he got me so bad, so many times in a row that I was literally wailing on the floor and my Nohno was in tears hysterically laughing at me. He finally came over, patted me on the back and said sincerely, “Mahk, mahk.  Kapwang mahtang Budget?” (I’m sorry. Are you tired of playing Budget?) To which I answered with a tired “Ehng.” He then yelled “BUDGET!” in my face and proudly strutted away. My Nohno just about fell out of her chair she was laughing so hard.

I have to admit, the kid is good.