Out of Retirement

I remember seven months back, when I was packing for my journey into the Pacific. It was a challenge to only bring the essential things I thought I would need in Micronesia. Teaching materials, sunblock, antibiotics were first into my pack. Sandals were next. I was told those were the only "shoes" you need in Pohnpei. Then my size 10 Copa Mundial cleats caught the corner of my eye. I thought I probably wouldn't use them during my two-year tenure here, but I threw them in anyway. Shortly after coming to this little island, I found the International F.C. and the Pohnpei Premiere League. After 7 years of retirement from soccer in the U.S., I find myself back on the pitch in a place where soccer is in its developmental stages.

While the "organized" part of this organized league can be frustrating at times, I feel both honored and lucky to support soccer in a foreign country. My initial involvement in the league probably came from selfish reasons. I was searching for something familiar in a very unfamiliar place. I didn't know Micronesia, but I certainly knew soccer. I am very surprised to see how my knowledge of soccer has brought me closer and closer to the island, and the people on it.

During my short run in the Premiere League, relationships formed quickly and strongly with the Pohnpeian/Sri Lankan/Fijian/Australian players I was playing with. A lack of youth and a lack of attendance landed the International F.C. with a 4th place overall finish. I was happy to see the Island Pitbulls take down the Seventh Day Adventist boys in the final. Very happy (no offense SDA). Their mohawked captain, Dilshan Senarathgoda, approached me about practicing with some of the better players from the league. His demeanor didn't match his hair style. In a very calm, cool way, he simply asked, "Hey, Phil right? Some of the guys are getting together and practicing this week. You should come out." I did. And, it has been a happily-ever-after story since then. Well, if you don't count the shin splints, ankle sprains and tweaked knees. The pitch in Pohnpei is far from perfect, but it has been the best way for me to interact with locals my age.

After a few practices, I found out there was a more serious purpose to these Monday, Wednesday, Friday kick-abouts. These boys were trying to pick up an ugly legacy left by a former Pohnpei team and turn it into a new and improved Pohnpei State Soccer team. Coach Paul Watson is the head of this machine and has quite a task in front of him.

I have lived and worked on this small island for the last seven months. One of the first "cultural" things I learned is that the terms on time or schedule have lost all meaning. Thirty minutes late to a soccer match is still considered "on time" for most of the players out here. Now, imagine trying to get an entire squad to the field and ready to warm up at 5:30, three times a week! Not only is it frustrating, but it hinders the progression that Watson wants to see in his squad. Progression that started slow, but has rapidly gained momentum.

Wikipedia describes the team as such: "They mainly play international matches in Micronesia Games: in both editions they finished at the last place. They are yet to register a win, and some call the team the weakest football team in the world.

In June 2009 it was announced that English coaches Paul Watson and Matthew Conrad would be working with Pohnpei football legend Charles Musana to re-launch the Pohnpei State team and address the current absence of a Federated States of Micronesia side.

After a series of meetings between soccer chiefs on Pohnpei and FSM Olympic Committee head Jim Tobin, a new soccer task force including Peter Konings and Charles Musana was established charged with the task of rejuvenating football on the island.

The new coaching team of Paul Watson, Yafeth Konings, Dilshan Senarathgoda and Matthew Conrad are the youngest in the history of international football.

In August and September 2009, Pohnpei staged the Liberation Day Games Cup - its first official, organized club competition in many years. After the tournament's success, the Pohnpei Premier League was scheduled for October 2009."

With all that said, it has been an honor and a blessing for me to join the movement, experiment...whatever you want to label it. Just practicing with the guys is a means of catharsis after a long day in the classroom. Especially considering the personalities of the players:

It is a strange combination of humility, Betel nut, martial arts, swearing, friendship, inappropriate gestures, break dancing, kepit (local word for teasing), hard work, absenteeism (as I mentioned above). Through it all, I am impressed with the dedication. The one that has affected me the most (besides kepit) is the across-the-board acceptance. When I am on the field, I am obviously menwhi (foreigner). But the way the guys have welcomed me into their game and sometimes even their personal lives makes me feel like menpohnpei (from Pohnpei). This acceptance has even affected my life off the field. There have been many times when I share food, drink (sometimes too much) and conversation with the players and their families.

After a couple of months of practice and nights out on the town, Paul and Dilshan invited me to put on a blue jersey and take a permanent spot on the Pohnpei State team as a left midfielder. My immediate thought was "heck yes!" But keeping with Ignation tradition and JVI ideals, I needed to discern whether it would affect my ministry, my work and/or my community. Not only that, I had to think about the implications of a foreign volunteer (aka ME) representing an island nation.

I will be representing a state that I have only known for 8 months. I begin thinking about the JVI idea of "social justice" and how that would relate to my spot on the starting roster. But, it seems a bit too deep for this instance. The issue of "fairness" is what it came down to. Rodrigo, Micah, Bob, Robert: some of these players may be riding the bench for 45 minutes while I muscle my way down the left side of the field. The invitation to join the team was surprising and legitimate. Yes, I have spent as many hours on the pitch as each player. But, if we were to tally how many hours we have all spent in the Equatorial Pacific, I would certainly fall short. The deciding factor for me was this: Opportunity. By playing with this team, many things open up. My interaction with the community, my stress level dropping, my chance to teach something I have practiced for years (World History isn't one of those things), not to mention - my students think it is pretty "cool". The pros heavily outweigh the cons, and that's good enough for me.

I discerned, and I am very comfortable with my decision. In July, I'll be lacing up my boots and dawning the Pacific-blue jersey of the Pohnpei State Soccer team. I just hope that I can bring something to my teammates. Drills, experience, moves....maybe. Positivity, encouragement, mentoring...I certainly hope so. Conversely, I can't even begin to count the number of things I have learned and will learn from my teammates.

Ordinary Time

If you were to ask any of the women I've dated in my past, they can tell you that I am not the type of guy that celebrates anniversaries. Well, here I am at my 6-month anniversary of being a Jesuit Volunteer in the Equatorial Pacific, and I stuck with my old tradition. Samantha and I exchanged a simple "Hey, happy 6-month anniversary" over a hot bowl of oatmeal. It was nothing extraordinary. It seems as though my life has linked with the liturgical calendar. I have found myself smack dab in the middle of ordinary time.

Before I go into that, I want to share some of the not-so-ordinary holiday celebrations I experienced in December. As many of you know, holidays away from home are tough. I think they can be even harder when "away" equates to 7500 miles. However, I tried not to dwell on the American traditions I was missing this year, but be fully present in the Pohnpeian traditions I was invited to take part in.

There was nothing Pohnpeian about my Christmas Eve. Hilarious, yes....Pohnpeian, no. One of my Caucasian friends and fellow church-goer on island, Bob, invited us to his house for karaoke. Instead of listening to Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole like I'm sure my parents were, Bob and the rest of the Jesuit Volunteers were belting out Journey and the BeeGees. I even made the mistake of selecting "Drop it like its Hot" by Snoop Dogg (note: not Christmas friendly). I don't think the world is ready for a "Snoop Doggy Dogg Christmas" album.

The next morning, we headed out to Senator Aurelio Joab's house for a Christmas Day celebration and feast. My traditional Christmas celebration in the states always consistent of a nice brunch with bacon, eggs and the works. It was similar at the senator's house, with a little twist.

Our "bacon" was 6 live pigs. And yes, they "prepared" those pigs approximately 6 feet from where we were sitting. I have never in my life heard screams as ear-piercing as those I heard that morning. Hitchcock's slasher films don't even come close.

The best gift I got on that Christmas Day was the gift of true relaxation. I had just spent the last month working day after day to prepare for finals practice, practice for the Christmas program and keep up with my 8th grade classroom. I needed some R&R. So on December 25, 2009, I sat in a chair for seven hours straight and did not move. SEVEN HOURS. I talked with some members of the Joab family, listened to the sound of sakau being pounded and watched some well-prepared line dancing. I needed every second of it. We were even offered a leg of the pigs that had just been slaughtered. The amazing hospitality I was shown made me feel a little closer to home.

January came too soon, and it was back to teaching. The JVI administration warned us that we would go through a "honeymoon" phase during the first few months of volunteering in a new, beautiful place. Luckily, this feeling of euphoria lasted about six months for me. But like most things, my experiences here began to normalize. I entered ordinary time. The giant coconut and breadfruit trees I used to gawk at on the way to school had become ordinary. The smell of pigs and burning trash that used to sting my nostrils had become ordinary. All of these foreign things that before left my jaw dropped and eyes open had become ordinary. I think my culture "shock" was culture "normalization." (see photo below)


As I look back over my professional career, I can identify my Achilles' heel pretty easily. It is a fear of the mundane. In my 5 years in the working world, I have worked as a moving man, book factory sorter, pool boy, retail salesman, maintenance man, newspaper designer, cook, bouncer (don't laugh too hard), teacher's assistant and finally...8th grade teacher. I think my ridiculous list of previous employment comes from my burning desire to experience the unknown. A desire to never be flatfooted in my search for new ideas and new people.

After about one month, I felt very flatfooted. I was worried that I might be getting unsatisfied with my position. I was worried that I would get bored like I did while cleaning pool filters and selling Billabong t-shirts. I was worried that I would have to grind it out each day for the next year and a half. I was quickly pulled out this state of worry by a sage who happens to live across the hallway from my room. In more or less words, my community mate reminded me that "You just have to recognize what makes you happy here and stick closely to those things." A simple idea, I know. But an idea that I have struggled with many times.

I started coming out of this funk by simply recognizing the beauty in my day-to-day. It dawned on me - I am a teacher. How more unpredictable and interesting could things get....? I walk to work everyday and have no idea what my students might say, what lessons they might love and what things I might learn from them. There are so many variables and intricacies in my life here that I just wasn't recognizing. I'm guessing that was the same case in my old jobs in the states.

So while my days here are starting to become "ordinary," that would be the case anywhere I go. Hell, I can't remain footloose my entire life. Therefore, it is important to recognize the significance in the insignificant. (I know, how cheesy is that)

Let me give you some examples from Pohnpei Catholic School:

• From 8:00-8:30 a.m. every morning, I sit on the bench outside the resource room and get to know the younger students who come to sit next to me: One student, DeShawn, is convinced that I am in the CIA. I, of course, never correct him. Another student, Eureka, has been trying to teach me about the islands inside the Chuuk lagoon. Each and every one of the second graders is amazed at the amount of leg hair I have. These are the things that make me appreciate each day.
• From 8:45-3:30 p.m. every day, I venture into the realms of Literature, Language, World History, Spelling and Catholic Catechism. My students are finally getting used to the way I teach, and I am closing in on the way they learn. We had a coffe house-style poetry reading last week in which I challenged my students to use creativity in their presentations. I said they could use music, posters and even cool lighting. In which case my student, Nile, responded, "We don't have any lighting in this room." I couldn't help but bust out laughing at the absurd truth in his response. Our classroom has no functioning lights. I have been amazed lately at how my students are maturing and learning at a rate I never thought possible. In order to more fully explain the term "alligator" in my spelling class, I acted like a baby antelope at the water's edge getting attacked by "a large reptile with powerful jaws and sharp teeth." Nobody missed that one on the quiz.
  

Outside of PCS:

• Pohnpei State Soccer Team: There is an untapped resource here in Pohnpei: talented soccer players. Everyday, a group of about 15 Pohnpeian boys and men meet at the same field to practice shooting drills, scrimage and and train. Most days, you might notice a skinny, very white American running with them and trying his best to impart his knowledge of the game. That American is yours truly. Fortunately for me, the players have welcomed me and treated me as a fellow player. They have even been teaching me the language. As you can guess, language on the field isn't always "proper," but its important nonetheless. Two of the players has even welcomed me to their house to meet their family and drink sakau en pohnpei. I never would have thought soccer would have been my ticket for becoming inculturated on this island, but that's exactly what is has become.
• Community: I was about to go on a long list of things for this topic...but, you know when you tell a story and get all the way end only to explain "Well, I guess you had to be there." I feel like the idiocracies that transpire between my community mates and I would fit into this category. (see photo below)

• The interactions with the international community at Our Lady of Mercy Church have also been very rewarding. Currently, I am working with Tim Smit (former JVI) and Luke Lavin (current JVI) to teach this year's Confirmation class. We have 14 students that are really enjoyable to work with. Through this process, a lot of my own beliefs and thoughts about the Catholic Church have been "confirmed" in a positive way.
  

It is through teaching that we really start to know things.

Kasehlelie,

Mr. Philip