First of all, let me apologize to my readers for such a long absence: that is the way of the interwebs of Micronesia: sometimes you have it and sometimes you don't, though you try to access it day in and day out for a week.
The following are just a few random observations and things you should know should you ever find yourself on a Pacific Island:
TRANSPORTATION
There is one road along the 60 mile circumference of Pohnpei (for those of you who are mathematicians, that means the island is less than 20 miles in diameter, or the distance from Naperville to Oak Park--shout out to the Schattauers!)
Owning a car is a status symbol; the type or condition of the car does not really matter--it may not even run, but if it's sitting out in your yard, well, that's better than not having one at all.
Needless to say, Pohnpei is a walking society. But if you place a Pohnpeinen in the middle of the Loop, you will probably think they are standing still. They are not. They are walking, but very slowly. This may be due to the fact that all Pohnpeiens function on "island time." It may be due to the fact that it is always hot here and you would walk slowly, too if you lived in constant 85 degree weather with plenty of humidity. Seriously, Pohnpeiens have never heard of seasons, unless we're talking about Breadfruit Season (April-Sept.) and Yam Season (Sept.-March). There is no such thing as a rainy season, a cool season, or any other kind of weather-related season. So long as you like slightly warmer than comfortable weather with plenty of rain (which fortunately I do!) you'll love Pohnpei.
But I digress. Back to transportation: so in Pohnpei, you walk (slowly) if you don't have a car; but if you do have a car, you drive it everywhere, including a few yards down the road. There are just a few rules of the road-a very few- to be aware of when traveling in Pohnpei.
When walking, walk on the left side of the road. I don't know why because drivers drive on the right and most cars are Japanese-made with the steering wheel on the right. FSM relects a curoius mixture of all the different countries which have previously occupied it.
If you find yourself on a bus (you're probably either a Pohnpeien schoolchild or a Peace Corps Volunteer because there are no public buses), it is wise to place yourself on an aisle towards the middle--or back if you like roller coasters. This is because if you do sit near a window, you are very likely to get whipped by branches as the bus hurtles along narrow, hilly roads. And if you sit on an aisle towards the back you can both avoid having to duck every few feet and enjoy watching your fellow volunteers' heads pop up and down with each smack of a branch from the numerous trees growing over the sides of the road.
Using Local Resources
While the dense jungle does sometimes limit road travel, it provides an abundance of material for immediate use. Forget your woven fan on a hot Sunday morning in an airless church? No problem; grab a dried leaf from the yard outside. Leaf fans come in a variety of sizes from 3" all the way up to 3' (the latter, however is a little unwieldy for church). Or, that beautiful blue sky that led you to think you could leave your umbrella at home today has suddenly turned gray and a downpour is imminent? Again, no problem; grab a 3' long banana tree leaf. It will keep you as dry as an umbrella, which admittedly isn't very. I recently learned in language training the many ways to discuss dry clothing . . .
Birthdays/Fundraisers
Birthday celebrations are a Western introduction into the Micronesian culture. There isn't even a word in Pohnpeien for the anniversary of one's birth. "Happy Birthday" is what is said and understood, even if the listener speaks no English.
Besides the universal party with lots of delicious food, Pohnpeiens have adapted another Western tradition to celebrate birthdays which I think is very creative: the Birthday Fundraiser. Everyone who wants to participate meets at one of the markets and many people bring items to contribute to the lots: a broom, a case of ramen, an assorted collection of local skirts, a live crab tied to a branch, banana tree saplings, yams, a canoe. These items are then distributed into random, but generally equal-value groups, and tickets are sold for each group, one at a time until some indeterminate point--presumably when the caller has decided enough money has been raised--a ticket is drawn, and well, you know how a raffle works. I got some practice with my Pohnpeien numbers--ehu-zero-waluh-riau-limau-siluh (1-0-8-2-5-3), and while we did not win a canoe, my host mother and I did walk away with a nice collection of colorful skirts!
Nothing Lasts
I would like to comment on the incredible transience of things in the jungle. Everything Pohnpeien is made with the understanding that it will soon be tossed aside to return to nature: palm frond woven baskets, thatched-roof houses, shell tools. No amount of Western ingenuity can save material things from being reclaimed bu the jungle humidity: cars rust, stop working, and become a new home for plant and animal life; humidity creeps into houses and paint peels, walls turn green; electronics are lucky to last a year in this, one of the wettest places on Earth. Micronesian culture is preserved only by word of mouth. Material possessions do not linger. If an anthropologist wished to specialize in Micronesian culture (which some do; I met one today!) he or she would find a dearth of physical evidence. Only the jungle lives on.
Final Note to Costumers: Micronesia not for the weak-hearted seamstress
I was so excited to find that my host mother loves to sew and has a sewing machine. And so I set out to make myself a local-style wardrobe. To my unending disappointment and constant chagrin, however, a local wardrobe means primarily polyester. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to find a material with less than 60% poly anywhere on the island. You might well ask, "Why in such a hot and humid climate would the Pohnpeiens choose a fabric infamous for its lack of breathability?" The answer is this: it dries faster, and as mentioned previously, dry clothing is a must here. But that doesn't make the fact that the clothes I'm wearing are 75% not-fabric hurt me inside--and outside--any less. Sundays are even more fun: Pohnpeien women take out their Sunday best: sparkly poly trimmed with plastic beads! The type of things you might find in a box labeled "cheap glitz" in the CST costume shop. Beauty is clearly in the eye of the beholder.
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I'm so glad to know about your blog now! Post more! Be safe. Stay dry. Have the time of your life.
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