The Fourth of July

I’m not sure why, but this July 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th 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 4^th of July helped cure a bought of homesickness, this year the 4^th of July helped me to see that I am home.

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4^th of July with their friends and family, wherever they may be. I know I did.

Stay well,

Christy

A Whole New Kind of Tourist

I know this post is long overdue, put it took me a while to process my trip to Japan this past June with my fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Mia. I had an incredible week, saw a lot of interesting and beautiful things, ate great food, and just plain had some fun. That being said, the experience as a whole was, how can I put this lightly…overwhelming. I knew the trip would be overwhelming when I bought the plane ticket, but I had no real grasp of just how overwhelming it would be, nor did I anticipate which things I would find overwhelming.

 I suppose one gets used to their surroundings. After living here on Pohnpei for a year, I’ve come to expect a certain level of development—one that I’m completely comfortable with now (most of the time, that is). The first big shock of our trip was during our layover in the Guam airport. Like most airports, there are several little shops lining the main strip. What really got me, surprisingly, were the lights. Every store was incredibly bright, shelves were backlit, and some displays even seemed to have spotlights fixed on them. I just couldn’t handle it. We walked past the shops two or three times before feeling brave enough to enter, and even then we only stayed a few seconds before retreating back into the terminal. I live in a world of natural light. Daytime lighting is pretentious and unnecessary, and nighttime lighting is a single light bulb, or perhaps two. That’s it. The amount of lighting used in the airport was shocking and intimidating.

And if I thought lighting was scary, the second I entered the airport in Narita, Japan, I was utterly terrified. The sheer volume of people attempting to squeeze through walkways almost brought me to a standstill. Mia and I just gave each other wide-eyed looks and pressed on, desperately trying not to get separated or trampled. And then to add to my airport stress, our mode of transportation out was by train (which we managed to navigate thanks to the limitless kindness of Japanese people).  Now, my only transportation here in Pohnpei is my own two feet or a car going maybe 40 mph (if they’ve got a lead foot). When that train pulled away, I felt like a kid on their first roller coaster. I honestly thought I was going to puke or die, or both. I think I embarrassed Mia by making a loud comment to as much while violently gripping my seat.

But, we made it to our destination and into the guidance of Mia’s friend from college, Kassi. The rest of the week was jam-packed full of excursions. As it turns out, Mia is quite the planner, which is just as well, because I was so dumbstruck most of the time that I would not have been able to make a sound decision. We had a daily schedule, and Kassi helped us immensely by writing out instructions for our train trips each day. Figuring our way around was no small task, but again, our success can mostly (okay, wholly) be attributed to Mia. Fiercely determined to see all the things on her list, Mia dragged me all over Tokyo and more, fearlessly navigating the subway map and using her four or five Japanese phrases she taught herself. It was a whirlwind of sightseeing, but wonderful indeed.

The biggest takeaway from the trip for me was the genuine kindness I saw in almost every single Japanese person we encountered. Not one person seemed put out with our language deficiencies or our fumbling around with the foreign currency.  We were constantly met with a smile and gracious assistance, many times from people who themselves didn’t speak a lick of English. Although on more than one occasion, an English-speaker came out of the woodworks and just appeared at our sides in a moment of panic (usually in a train station) and helped us find our way. I will never forget how friendly and welcoming the Japanese people were.

As for things we saw, my favorites were the giant Buddha at Kamakura, along with other countless beautiful temples we wandered through in the surrounding areas, meeting actual summa wrestlers on the street, and eating delicious food. May favorite food was fresh sushi at a popular conveyor belt restaurant, where the food literally just constantly scoots by your table and you just graze as you see fit. Pure brilliance. One of the best days was when we went to Kassi’s school where she teaches and observed her kindergarten classes. It was such a cool experience to take a break from the tourist thing and just see Japanese people in their everyday routine. We even got a chance to play with the kids, and that was such a treat. It’s nice when games don’t need words and laughter comes in every language.

Although, I must admit that most of the trip is quite a blur. Mia took avid notes (that I will be copying from her one day), but I was just so overwhelmed for the majority of our stay that all I could do was take it all in. The busy, crowded streets, the sensory-overload of smells and sounds and lights at every turn, the enormously tall buildings, and the overarching technology that was involved in almost everything we did (I swear, even the toilets were smarter than me). It was all so foreign, but in more ways than one. I wasn’t just an American dealing with your average culture-shock. I was an America who just spent the previous year on a developing island nation. It was just plain insane.

I think our experience is illustrated well by our behavior on our first train, when we got a good view of everything. The train was packed, and we were trying not to embarrass ourselves by appearing too touristy, but we just couldn’t help it. One of us would spot something and try to nonverbally alert the other. We just kept excitedly nodding at things outside the windows as they zoomed by. And the funny thing is they weren’t anything particularly special. They were like cars, buildings, bridges, or trees. Big whoop. But it was exciting to us, the Pohnpeian-Americans, and that’s all that counts.

Here are a few of my favorite photos from the trip. Enjoy!

A wonderful garden of irises we found at one of the temples on our first day.

Buddha at Kamkura

Sushi

The summo wrestlers!

All three of us outside of the last shrine of our trip.

--Christy



MST

Well, it finally happened—all of the Peace Corps Volunteers from my team were together and had our week-long mid-service training (MST). It was so great to see all of my friends living in Kosrae, Chuuk, and Palau! And even though it has been a year since we’d seen each other, it was as if not a second had gone by. It was nice to catch up and swap stories about our first years at site. It was especially great to see how everyone has grown and adapted to their surroundings.  And although we all live in unique and different communities, we all had similar joys and struggles that we could connect with.

But we spent the week in sessions that enabled us to share successes, swap ideas, and create action plans for the coming year.  We even had a few Q&A sessions with staff members where we were truly able to voice our opinions and concerns. It was refreshing to be treated like an adult, but I suppose that after a year we’ve earned it. But my absolute favorite session was a team building activity in which my whole team was divided into three teams and combined with several staff members to compete. We had three tasks to complete as a team in a sort of relay: husking several coconuts, opening the coconuts with a machete, and then grating the coconuts using a local grating tool. Team members were assigned to tasks randomly, and I was given coconut husking (I rock at coconut husking, by the way).  It was especially funny to see which of the rest of my group clearly don’t do these tasks at their sites. There were some obvious “I have no clue what I’m doing” moments. But it was all in good fun and it was great to cheer on my teammates and to see the staff in a whole new light.

At the end of the week, it was time for all of my friends to return to their islands. But unlike last year, when I was quite sad to see them all go, this time saying goodbye was easy. I knew they were all happy and at home on their islands and that they were returning to someplace good. It even sparked a desire in me to go visit a few of them on their islands. Who knows where this year might take me.

Additionally, the new group of 19 trainees (M79s), just arrived and we were able to all spend 2 days together getting to know each other, both M78s and M79s. It was sort of surreal, to be honest, to put myself back in their shoes, one year ago. I have changed so much in a year, grown stronger, and realized so much about myself. It’s almost impossible to imagine myself as the excited and scared 22 year old who came here last June. But it was great to be able to offer advice and stories for information-hungry newcomers. Everyone in the new group seems wonderful, and I can’t wait to see what this crazy thing called Peace Corps has in store for them.

Thanks to everyone who helped and supported me in my first year of Peace Corps.

Stay well,

Christy

Ahi Pahpa

I’ve always known I have the best dad in the world. This is not a hard one to figure out. My dad Gary is a wonderful, smart, talented man who truly cares about the people around him. I am incredibly lucky to have him in my life, a fact even more evident with the great expanse of globe currently between us.

But evidently the universe didn’t think one incredible father was enough. Because I am here to tell you that not only to I have the best dad in the world, but I also have the best Pahpa in the world. Hands down.

Being with and getting to know my Pahpa Ioney (Yo-knee) has been one of my biggest joys. He is easily the kindest and most generous man I have met on this island. And he is so full of happiness and laughter that he is simply a delight to be around.

My Pahpa is also extremely intelligent. He may not have finished high school, but he can navigate his fishing boat in the black of night without any lights, using only the stars to guide him back through the treacherous reef and safely home (rumor has it he’s the only fisherman in the area with this particular skill). He can wander off into the jungle and return with plants to cure any number of ailments. He can construct beds, tables, chairs, and even houses in a matter of hours using crude tools and incredible craftsmanship. And he can fix literally anything around the compound (a leaky pipe or roof, a broken door handle, an old boat engine) while carrying a child on his shoulders and a smile on his lips. He is an amazing man.

My Nohno, my sister Ioren, and I joke that I am my Pahpa’s princess. He calls me “his girl”. He goes out of his way to do unsolicited nice things for me (like scaling one of the coconut trees to get me a drinking coconut on a hot afternoon), and I’ve already mentioned before about his tendency to overly prepare my food for me (cutting up large chunks of meat or removing bones). Initially the latter drove me nuts. I took it as a sign of disrespect or mistrust of my capabilities. But now I know better. That’s just my Pahpa, doing anything and everything he can for me because he cares about me. Now I simply smile and let him pour my drink for me because he thinks the kettle is too hot for me to handle. It’s his way to take care of me, and I am enormously grateful.

Communication with my Pahpa has been a goal I’ve been working toward since the beginning. He has the least English of anyone in my family (in a year I’ve heard him say exactly three things in English: “airport”, “one thousand”, and “yellow fin tuna”), and he also unfortunately is now almost completely deaf due to his career as a fisherman. (The repeated diving for years has taken a toll). But my Pahpa is infinitely patient with me, skilled at lip-reading, and is also a world-champion at charades.

Tonight, multiple elements of our relationship converged into one experience: crab for dinner. I’ve eaten fresh crab many times before (yum!), and of course my Pahpa always prepares the crab for me. He painstakingly cracks open the shell with his hands and squeezes all of the meat out onto a plate and then hands it to me with his wonderful, partially tooth-less smile. Not only do I adore this, but I really appreciate it because I have got absolutely no clue how to get the meat out of a crab shell. Well, tonight I decided that it was time I learned, so my Pahpa gladly took on the duty of teaching me.
Now, as part of their continued assistance in my language learning, my family members have come to know how to best explain things to me and which words to use to ensure I understand. But, since my Pahpa can’t actually hear any of the things we talk about, he has no knowledge of my vocabulary. So our crab lesson began with several strings of sentences that I completely didn’t understand. But, our trusty failsafe—charades—came through in a big way and I was eventually able to liberate some meat from the crab legs. All the while, my Nohno looked on and howled with laughter at my incompetence and my Pahpa giggled happily at my determination. It was a wonderful experience.

And as a reward for my success, my Pahap scooped a particularly colorful meat blob out of the main body cavity and excitedly plopped it on my plate and told me to try it. Here’s were communicating with my Pahpa is literally essential. What am I about to put in my mouth? I obviously don’t know all the Pohnpeian words for internal organs, so I began to panic and steal glances at my Nohno who was now overwhelmed by her laughter and completely unable to assist me. I Pahpa just continued to point to his own abdomen and enthusiastically insist that I eat it. In some alternate universe, I might have tried to politely refuse this mystery meat, but instead I did what you do when you get offered questionable food in the Peace Corps: I just ate it. And you know what? I was quite tasty. My Pahpa was literally giddy with happiness.

When I came here, I expected to become close to my family, to sincerely care for them and wish good things for their futures. But I guess I didn’t expect the deep, genuine love and admiration that I feel for my Pahpa. He has lived a life far different from my own and it is likely that we will never fully understand each other, but he is an incredible man and I am lucky to know him.

I think this, these personal connections are what Peace Corps is really about. We are here under the guise of working as teachers, but we’re really here to get covered in slimy crab meat with our Pahpas.

And I’m totally okay with that.

--Christy

The Real Me

As evidenced by my short thesis on chicken life several posts back, my day to day here leaves me with plenty (sometimes too much) time to think and reflect. And lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my perception of reality through the lens of this experience. I know, that sounds pretentious, but stick with me.

I constantly find myself prefacing statements with “in real life”, such as “In real life I enjoy spending time outside.” Or “In real life I love being a teacher”. But suddenly it dawned on me that this is real life. I am not asleep or lying in a coma somewhere imagining all this (at least I hope I’m not)—this is real. And I suppose it’s due to the fact that this life I lead now is not my normal or my permanent set-up that I tend  to separate it from reality. But that is a foolish premise, because what I see and do and experience every day is very much a part of my reality, and will surely continue to shape me as an individual for the foreseeable future. Just because my current surroundings are wildly different from those waiting for me stateside does not negate or diminish their importance or value. 

But that got me thinking more about these seemingly parallel universes that I am living in between. One in which a magic metal box rinses and washes my clothes for me while I casually flip channels, and another where I beat my clothing with a wooden paddle. Which leading lady is the real me? Is there even an answer to that question? I think the deeper question here is:  are you the person you are while surrounded by the comforts of home or are you what’s left when everything is stripped away?

That last question has been lurking in the back of my brain for weeks, and I’m still not sure what the answer is. I’d like to say it’s the latter—that we, as people amount to our core belief systems and elements of character that cannot be altered by a change of scenery. However, while I’ve been here in Pohnpei for the past year (holy hell, has it really been that long?), I’ve encountered situations and experienced emotions that I never have before in America. In some of those times I behaved in “Christy” ways, handling circumstances in similar ways that I might have in America. But other times I completely surprised myself (in both good and bad ways) by my reactions. For example, in some ways I have become very shy since coming here; more soft-spoken, hesitant to join groups of people or speak to strangers, and preferring to spend quiet time alone. But at other times I can be incredibly self-assured; speaking my mind to figures of authority, sticking to my convictions, and being frighteningly direct in confrontation. Both of these alter-egos are very different from the “me” I remember. So is this now the “real me” or the “me” that I left behind?

I sometimes joke with some of the other Volunteers that I’m not sure any of us would be friends in real life (again, “real life”) if it weren’t for Peace Corps. Partly because it is likely we would never have met otherwise, but also because we are just dramatically different as individuals. But here we get along and function well as friends. This concept fascinates me. Do we adjust our criteria for friendship here because there is such a scarcity of candidates? (Probably.) Or do we change and evolve (perhaps temporarily) into the friend each other needs? (Also a possibility.) 

So then I come to a moderately satisfying conclusion: we are simply not the same people now as we were at the beginning. This seems obvious; of course being a Peace Corps Volunteer changes you. If you come out of this unchanged, I don’t think you did it right. But the more interesting question is what happens when the person you’ve become in the Peace Corps collides with the person you left behind in America at the end of two years? Do you revert back to what’s comfortable and familiar (leading to the confirmation that the person you were is the “real you”)? Or do you continue on, a stranger in your own life (implying that you are in fact what’s left once you’ve lost it all)? Which is right? Neither? Both? 

Maybe there is no way to define “the real you”. Maybe it is constantly changing and evolving without our noticing. Maybe. Maybe the real me is this girl I’ve become. The girl who squashes cockroaches without even looking up from her computer (true story: that just happened approximately 10 minutes ago). Or who watches a pig slaughter without even the slightest grimace. Or who can play with children and not notice that they’re naked. Or who can have long conversations with respected men who also have no teeth and are in dire need of a shower and not think it is strange. Maybe. 

But maybe I want to go back to a cockroach-free world where people wear clothes, practice proper hygiene, and refrain from killing animals in their backyards. Maybe I don’t want to accept these things as reality. 

How’s that for the “real me”?

Just some thoughts. Stay well over there in the “real world”.

--Christy

Camp GLOW

Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is a worldwide Peace Corps initiative designed to educate and empower girls living in predominately male-oriented societies. Our Camp GLOW here on Pohnpei took place just last week for three days and two nights with 110 8^th grade girls from all over the island. Yes, it was chaotic, and yes plenty went horribly and completely wrong, but yes indeed the girls had fun and accidently learned a lot. I think we can officially call it a success.

Preparing for and facilitating this camp made me realize how lucky we are in America to have such a comfort level with discussing issues such as puberty, hygiene, teen pregnancy, and STDs. Here, that is far from the case. For most girls, the first time they learn about menstruation is the first time they get their periods. And even then, the explanation from their mothers (if the girl even has the courage to ask) is simply that it happens once a month. No details. This is due in part to the fact that discussing menstruation is a social taboo, but also because it is likely that the mothers themselves honestly do not understand it themselves (probably because their mothers never told them…). It makes the awkward talks given to 5^th graders around the nation as they put condoms on bananas not seem so unnecessary.

So I drew a picture of a uterus and ovaries (an artistic masterpiece, I might add), and we taught the girls about what is happening in their bodies. (We were going to have it translated, but couldn't because there literally are no words in Pohnpeian for the female sex organs, because there is just no scientific understanding of those body parts). We had speakers come in and teach the girls about STD’s and the importance of safe sex. We had sobering discussions about rape and sexual assault. We demonstrated, amidst generous laughter, proper personal hygiene. And we answered countless questions about pregnancy. These girls are full of questions and concerns, but never before had a venue in which to comfortably and safely articulate them. It was humbling to realize that I personally had a huge hand in these girls’ personal education. I also taught them the chicken dance, so obviously I made a giant impact.

And woven in between the teaching, the girls just got to be kids. They swam, played games and sports, made bracelets, and completed team building activities. There was even a dance competition and party that was met with huge enthusiasm. And six exhausted Peace Corps Volunteers and six exhausted but equally amazing local women who volunteered to help happily boarded the buses when it was time to go home. (I slept roughly 14 hours the following night.)

So I am happy to say I survived my first Camp GLOW, with roughly one thousands mosquito bites to show for it. And despite late busses, no-show presenters, pouring rain, cooking fiascos, and several acts of delinquency, the Camp was largely a success. My teammates and I learned a lot, and we are confident that next year’s Camp GLOW will be even better.

Here are the girls that I brought from my school and I after we got our camp shirts:

 

Stay well,
Christy

A Lull in Enthusiasm

Hello out there. I know it’s been a long time since my last post, and the reason is simple: I didn’t feel like writing. The last few months have been difficult and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

I suppose there comes a time in each Peace Corps Volunteer’s service when it all finally catches up with them. The fun, excitement, novelty, and sense of adventure are no longer enough to cover the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and dissatisfaction. I have finally come to that point, just weeks before my one year anniversary of arriving here in Pohnpei. This is just one of those many emotional obstacles I will have to overcome during my service. But to be frank, it sucks.

But thank God for my fellow Volunteers, because no one can understand the frustrations and misery associated with PCV life better than, well a PCV. I have relished in the chance to unload some of my unhappiness on my friends who have received it sympathetically and have had plenty of their own to dish out. As isolating as it is to live in the rural jungle almost an hour from town and internet and hot water, it’s nice to know that my fellow PCV’s are also within reach.

And just as most of my teacher friends back home, I am beyond ecstatic that school is almost over. For us it ends on May 22 and it couldn’t come a day sooner. The normal stresses and frustrations associated with teaching are amplified here as they are forced together with a culture that doesn’t view education with the same importance that America does. I frequently feel like I am fighting a losing battle that no amount of donated books or pencils can ever solve.

I’m hopeful that this summer will lead to a recharge of my patience and will to live. Plus, there’s a lot to look forward to this summer:

-My Mid-Service Training takes place in early June, and all of my remaining teammates who are currently spread across the Pacific will come back here to Pohnpei for a week. I’m excited beyond words to lay eyes on all of them after a year of separation. I foresee much celebrating and commiserating  in our futures.

-The new Volunteers arrive at the end of our training week to begin their Pre-Service Training rituals. I think it will be nice to have some fresh blood up in here and some new smiling, eager faces to brighten up the mood. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to feel useful and knowledgeable, which isn’t bad for massaging my ego.

-My best friend on the island, Mia Neidhardt (check out her blog at http://miapeacecorps.blogspot.com/ ) and I are heading to Japan in mid-June for one week of well-deserved and desperately needed vacation. Mia has a friend who is living in Japan working as a teacher and has graciously allowed us to crash on her floor. The culture shock should be pretty extreme, but it will be a welcomed changed after having spent a year on a secluded developing nation adrift in the Pacific. Wish us luck!

- I have a summer project at my school in the works involving reading (The Magic Tree House series by Mary Pope Osborne), learning about the places around the world that are visited in the stories, and then painting a giant world map wall mural. I’m still waiting for grant funding to come through, but I’m excited to do something with some of my students that they may actually enjoy.

So that’s it. A very real update of how things are going in my little speck of the world. Thanks to all who continue to send me letters and encouragement. Especially my parents, my aunt Janet, my wonderful godparents Carole and Fred, and my two best friends James and Rachel. Your love is felt in abundance.

Stay well,

Christy