I’m not sure why, but this July 4th was really important to me. Perhaps it’s because it was the first American holiday I celebrated here on Pohnpei last year, and I felt its celebration this year clearly marked the passage of time. Or perhaps because I have numerous fond 4th of July memories from back home; from swimming in various swimming pools with assorted childhood friends to watching fireworks in every direction on top of the Magnolia parking garage at USF my senior year. I don’t know how to quite put into words why I enjoy the holiday so much, and to be honest I didn’t really realize I was so fond of it until I got here and suddenly found myself without it. There’s just something about everyone all decked out in cheesy red, white, and blue outfits, eating hotdogs and cupcakes with red, white, and blue sprinkles, and gathering on little blankets by a lake somewhere to watch fireworks while listening to patriotic music at full blast. It’s magical.
Now, there may not be fireworks or lakes here, but there is a US Embassy and there is most definitely free food.
Last year, as a Trainee and having only been in Pohnpei for about a month, I remember the 4th of July celebration at the Embassy as being comparably magical. I was so desperately homesick and was relieved to be surrounded by Americans and eating potato salad at tables with plastic red, white, and blue tablecloths. It was simple but it was precisely what I needed at the time.
This year I drew on that memory and waited for repeated perfection. But things are much different now. I didn’t arrive in a Peace Corps vehicle, chaperoned by members of Staff. I arrived by taxi, on my own schedule. Early in fact, because I offered to help set up and get the face-painting and games station set up. As I entered the Embassy office and shook hands of men and women I’d met before, and received a gift of chalk from one man who has become a great friend of the Peace Corps Volunteers. They donned me with a wonderfully tacky American flag baseball cap, showed me my boxes and let me on my way. I was not a guest or a spectator as I was last year, but somehow included and involved in an event organized by the US Embassy.
I spent the majority of the event painting kids’ faces. I didn’t hear the speeches that encouraged me last year. I didn’t notice any of the patriotic background music that had once comforted me. I ate quickly. The food was decent, but I didn’t have a religious experience over the baked beans as I had last year. I spent some time visiting with the new Trainees, and then I just left, caught a taxi, and went home. That was it.
On my (long) taxi ride home, I was feeling somewhat disappointed that my 4th of July wasn’t as life-altering as last year’s. I felt shorted in some way, like I had missed out on something wonderful. And as I contemplated this, I hit a whole new level of comfort. I fell asleep. I slept in a cramped taxi amongst other sleeping Pohnpeians strangers. I slept because I was exhausted, but also I slept because the taxi driver knew me and knew exactly where to take me and I wasn’t worried I’d end up somewhere strange. And sure enough, I got home safe and sound.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in kind of a funk. I just lay around at my house reading and feeling sorry for myself. But when dinner rolled around, that’s when the 4th of July magic truly happened. I had spent the last few days explaining to my family (the best I could in my newly-acquired second language) what the 4th of July celebrates and why it is so important to Americans and me in particular. I shared some stories and tried to give them a glimpse of what July 4th is really like back home. They seemed marginally interested. (For example, when I got back home all of the kids wanted to know if I had eaten cake at the Embassy party.) But my Pahpa, who is terribly hard of hearing, knew very little of why I went into town today, only that it was for a special celebration.
Dinner was prepared by my Pahpa, so I got the Princess special—fish without the skin or bones, cut up into pieces with rice and soy sauce. He thinks I’m a child and he is correct. But the best part was dessert. I told my Pahpa probably eight months ago that I love pineapple. They grow here locally, but there are no trees near my house with the fruit. He said he’s find me some, but partly out of difficulty of locating them, and partly out of plum forgetfulness, I had still not yet eaten local pineapple. Well, at dinner he produced not one but three pineapples. With a big grin he told me they were for me, to celebrate.
I could have cried. The pineapple was so good. I just don’t think you understand.
I then happily munched my fruit (juice dripping shamelessly all over my chin) and contemplated my 4th of July. Last year I was in a completely different place that I am now, and therefore I took very different things away from the Embassy 4th of July celebration. This year is distinctly different. I have a place here, a role, a family, a community. I thought I was going to gobble up the chance to be in that little bubble of America again. But the truth is I didn’t need to.
And after dinner (and my wonderful, beautiful pineapple) as I stood in the doorway of my house, watching the rain fall peacefully all around I couldn’t help but smile. Last year, the 4th of July helped cure a bought of homesickness, this year the 4th of July helped me to see that I am home.
I hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July with their friends and family, wherever they may be. I know I did.
Stay well,
Christy
No comments:
Post a Comment