The summer started with the annual Re-Orientation/Dis-Orientation for all volunteers in Micronesia. Some old and new faces greeted us through the glass wall at the airport. We took a bus ride through "downtown" Weno and I realized that I was exactly where I was one year ago ... a brand new island with brand new language, culture, and people.
The drive to Saramen Chuuk Academy took longer than expected due to the never ending mudslide we had to drive through. When people ask about the road in Chuuk, the clever response is always, "What road?" It was an eternal pothole around the entire island.
Re-O/Dis-O is a bittersweet rejuvenation for the mind, body and soul. It is a time for processing, a time to recharge and a time for goodbyes. We spent a week on the picturesque island of Pisar close to the edge of the Chuuk lagoon. This island, no larger than a football pitch, is surreal. The name of the island translates to "changing sand" because it is forever changing. Each time you visit Pisar, there are new nooks and crannies as well as sand bars that seemed to have disappeared into the blues of the Pacific. This idea of transformation fit the bill for what we attempted to do inside ourselves throughout the week.
I ate well, slept well and was finally able to understand the issues that had been fluttering around in my mind throughout the year. The main one was simple - What is the role of a JV in Micronesia? I couldn't find where the line was drawn for what JVs could or should do in the challenging situations that arose at my work site. Are we expected to whistle blowers or simply stick to our classrooms and lead by example? As I sat facing a magenta sunset over Tonowas island, the answer that I discovered was that it would take more time to fully understand; that I am here to observe and learn and take every lesson I can from these islands. The time for judgment and action was not then and may never be. Two years seemed like a large window of opportunity to effect change on these islands. I'm was starting to feel like it wasn't large enough.
The highlights of the trip came in casual conversation. Stories were shared of embarrassing cross-cultural moments, classroom slip-ups, the good, the bad and the ugly. It was in discussing the ugly that we were able to recognize the beautiful in our work here.
Late in the week, I sat down on a narrow porch for the last time with my community: Jo, Sam, and Luke. There were so many things to say to each other and so many ways to say it. I was and am still thankful for Jo's compassion and generosity, Samantha's endurance and sisterly love, and Luke's wisdom and support. It is humbling and a bit strange to hear what roles you played for each community mate. Later came celebratory cigars and reminiscing under a star-filled sky as we all wondered "What's next?"
For me, next was a 3-month stint as an eighth and seventh-grade summer school teacher at St. Cecilia school on the main island of Chuuk, Weno. Each and every morning, I drove dozens of kids from our apartment up to the school with Caroline riding shotgun. My first month was one of the hardest I had in Micronesia. The education system was hurting in Chuuk, and St. Cecilia was feeling the pain as well. The physical structure and daily operations at the school were distressed and I wanted to do my best to leave it better than I had found it. One thing that I became known for at Pohnpei Catholic School was discipline. Luckily, I had packed that in my carry-on and brought it to St. Cecilia. Caroline and I arranged morning assembly, created the schedule and tried to bring order to the students who just couldn't stay in their seats.
During the first week, we were without a principal and operating as best as we could when we were visited by 25 students from the College of Micronesia. They had arranged to sit in on our classes and learn teaching techniques, but no one at school had any knowledge of the arrangements. My initial thoughts were to cancel and move on with the day. And then I realized that a great opportunity had just been served on a silver platter. I had spent the last week complaining about how hard it was to improve the education system in Micronesia and now I had 25 eager Chuukese students who wanted my help. It was a wonderful feeling to work with rather than for these local teachers for the two weeks that they joined us.
We reviewed lesson planning techniques, classroom management and assessment strategies. One student gave a speech at a closing party about his time working with the staff and students that I will never forget. Joyful was his name and he shared what a powerful experience it was to receive a mwaramar (flower necklace) from his first students. He was deeply touched and that was evident in his speech.
From their, the days became very scheduled. We passed the lagoon to the West in the morning and gazed at it from the East in the afternoon. I fell in love with my students and the way they pronounced my name.
"Good morning Mr. Pinip!"
"How are you Mr. Pinip?"
"Mr. Pinip, I know the answer!"
(There is no l for Chuukese inside the lagoon, so it sounds more like an n.)
My most meaningful experiences happened on other small islands inside the lagoon - Eot and Udot. I was able to see the pure generosity and care of the Chuukese families that welcomed us to their islands and their homes. The dusty roads and dangerous nights of Weno just didn't compare to the utopia that seemed to exist on these even tinier islands.
One of the staple foods in Micronesia and especially Chuuk is breadfruit. They even bury it underground to preserve it when it's not in season. They prepare it very differently from the breadfruit I had eaten in Pohnpei. In Chuuk, they pounded it into loaves known as kon. This pounding of breadfruit is traditionally men's work and a very important process for their culture.
The first step is harvesting the breadfruit. I felt like I was in a tropical Frogger game as I dodged back and forth to avoid the falling green edibles. Our leaders who called themselves "Rambo" and "Jet Li" were entertaining and warm with their back and forth antics. They even taught Tyler, Caroline and I how to pound the breadfruit after it was skinned and cooked at very high temperatures.
It was the most tiring work I have done on the islands, and that includes managing a classroom full of eighth graders. Just across a small pass from Udot is a tiny island known as Eot. It was there that I got to try my hand at spear fishing with Peace Corps John (Diehl) a few weekends later.
Other weekends, our community stayed in the dark nights of Weno reading books by candlelight or annoying each other with ridiculous questions.
After my adventures with breadfruit and spears, I realized that my place was in front of a chalkboard. And I was beginning to miss my chalkboard in the brick building of Pohnpei Catholic School. It was the first time I felt like PNI was home and that I couldn't wait to get back to my life, friends and new community there. I whispered a sincere "kinisou chapur" (thank you very much) through the Plexiglas window as the Continental plane lifted off the disappearing runway. I left confused by the negative sentiments some people have for Chuuk. It has its problems just like the other islands in the Pacific but it has a radiance that overpowers its struggles. The simple beauty in the Chuukese men, women and children I met and the warmth I felt from my coworkers and temporary families made it hard to leave. I was still in the same country but it felt like a different island altogether.
Beautiful story Mr."Pinip"
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