This might be a strange quote with which to begin my post regarding my first stint as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Falalus, Woleai, but in many ways it speaks to the truth. When I think about where to possibly begin sharing my reality over the last few months, I am at a loss. My experience has been a mixed bag in so many ways – from good to challenging to downright hard – and it has all taken place in a context as far removed from anything I have ever known that it seems it can’t be real.
One place to begin is the setting which, to be frank, is as beautiful as any sort of tropical island fantasy you can imagine. The water is warm, clear, and multifaceted in its blues and greens. Now place against this setting Christmas and New Year’s celebrations. I have spent a couple of holidays away from my family in Colorado, which left me feeling removed (and thankfully included by a great community of friends in Maine), but being on Falalus this Christmas left me feeling like I was in an entirely separate universe. Where is the snow? The twinkly lights? Mountains and Christmas trees? And yet, to answer many of your questions, yes, we do celebrate Christmas in Falalus. The preparations and celebrations spanned multiple days, including a “midnight” service at 2 am. The most beautiful aspect of it all to me was the fact that no one was left out. – everyone gave and got. Starting on the 19th, the community came together at the church to distribute gifts to certain populations, the students, the youth, adults, etc, in a Secret Santa fashion. Most gifts were handmade, mostly food (I popped a few giant pots of popcorn and gave some to each family compound - there are 12 in all - as my gift). Even though my name wasn’t officially on Santa’s list, each gift-giving day I left with tons of generous gifts. And now here’s the part that I still can’t get over. Amongst the coconut crab, taro with coconut milk, rice, and other edible goodies, I got one of the best gifts I think I may ever receive for Christmas – a baby sea turtle.
Her name is Tiny and she lives in an old buoy outside my house (although I just bought a gloriously big plastic tub for her and I can’t wait to show Tiny her new digs!). Everyone in the community now likes to inquire after ‘laai woongi,’ my baby turtle, asking if she’s big yet (I always reply, 'teiti farigiti’, or not yet). She and I bonded right away. I take her to the beach to shower with me every day. After she darts around for exercise a bit, she’ll climb on my arm to rest. She especially loves to sit on my shoulder as we bob together on the waves. It’s just about the most surreal reality ever. On New Year’s Day, I got up to feed Tiny, but she was missing. We looked all around for her and wouldn’t you know it? When we looked up from searching and there was Tiny, just strolling down the road like she just needed to stretch her fins. Fortunately she’s taking to stretching her fast-growing fins in water. When I left Woleai, I asked all of my students to turtle sit for me and make sure that everything is alright while I’m gone.
New Year’s was quite an experience on island, let me tell you. It is the one time of the year when the shoabuuto, or women, are allowed to drink (whereas the mwaale (men) drink every night of everyday – it’s like clockwork). I can vouch that the women make up for their whole year of drinking in one go. We sat on mats by the beach as the men took turns donating faluuba (fermented coconut nectar) and yeast (just what it sounds like – yeast fermented for a few hours in warm water. Safe? Not quite). I joined them as they drank and sang songs at the top of their lungs from afternoon till evening. It was interesting seeing the women, who work so hard each day of their lives, getting to take a break and enjoy themselves thoroughly singing song after song from generations past together. As for me, I appreciated having the opportunity to share this experience while also watching the full moon rise over the lagoon.
I’m sure you’re all wondering (like everyone else here) if I went hog wild and got bulaase (drunk) with the rest of the women, but the honest answer is no, I did not. You see, around Christmas I began experiencing stomach troubles that plagued for about a very unpleasant month. The pattern seemed to be: Monday mornings, wake up at 5 am to go running on the beach (the only time I can go running is when it’s dark and everyone is asleep); Tuesdays, repeat; then, promptly become stricken with incessant diarrhea and be miserable until Friday, at which point I’d take an “immobility agent” that would stop me up over the weekend and make me feel like it’d be a good idea to go running again on Monday. Thus the cycle continued until I realized I shouldn’t bother running. Instead I self diagnosed and took the prescription amoebacide the PC provides to all outer island volunteers. After week four of this, I felt like I would never get better – I could have sworn I’d always be curled up as one pathetic, burpy ball. My guess is that I got a parasite or amoeba that took to living in my gut and let me tell you, it was not pleasant. I spent much of January curled up with no energy or appetite under my mosquito net trying with all my might to be okay with eating five-times reheated bulage (taro). Fortunately the drugs seem to have evicted whatever was squatting in my lower digestive system and I discovered BBQ for the bulage. Praise the lord and cross your fingers!
What with the digestive maladies, the emotional vulnerability that comes with a weak body, missing the holidays with my family, and general feelings of 'why on earth did I get myself into this?' I have to say I am very glad to be here on Yap for some respite and rejuvination. In no particular order, I'm delighting like nobody's business in my host family, the food, and being able to be in touch with friends and family. Here''s a reflection on leaving Falalus for the first time...
I've taken to doing Yoga and watching the sunset at 'the end of the island,' but shhhh, don't tell anyone on Falalus (they'd really get to talking about the strange things their PC does...). One evening I was watching the sunset and not actually expecting much out of it by way of few clouds in the sky. But soon I was surprised to discover that there was a whole layer of clouds between me and the moon that I didn't realize was there. The sun had spotted it before me and decided to paint what I couldn't even see with the shades of fire. I walked back from the beach thinking about the sunset - how sometimes you need something to change in order to see something that's there the whole time. That's how I felt coming into Yap. My experience living and teaching on Falalus has been quite challenging and even in my short two and a half months there (granted, it didn't feel short at the time), I've wondered about "what's there," so to speak. How can this experience transform like the sunset? I needed something to change - to leave and come to Yap for training - in order to see some layers of my experience that I didn't realize were there. When I left, the entire community haulted their daily activities to throw me an impromptu farewell shindig and make sure I was coming back. Let's just say the sunset was beautiful that night and I'm getting ready to return.
With all that I am, thank you for supporting me on this adventure. The main thing I have realized over the past few months is that this experience is an adventure of the heart and its challenges. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
