End of Study Review

  Figure 1: Geographic distribution of probable cases (%)

Map of Pohnpei Island subdivided by municipality

   

Social Studies

As my departure from Pohnpei is nearing, I expect these posts will become more reflective and sentimental.  This island has been a great introduction to social and cultural experiment.  As in, let's see what happens if we take an isolated group of Pacific peoples and put them through four Western occupations and one world war and then give them a psuedo-American government and some money to play with each year.

The inspiration for this post came from a dream I had last night which took place in some sort of eastern European country.  The terrain was rugged and rocky and the people herded goats with machine guns up and down steep mountain faces.  A squabble in a nearby village resulted in a giant explosion which leveled the town.  Now without trying to psychoanalyze my weird violent dreams, it made me realize just how safe and lovely Pohnpei is.

There's a very fine balance of elements keeping all the demons at bay.  Crime, violence, and drug use are very low.  There is a local jail, but apparently, the incarcerated are allowed go home to their families at night.  There aren't any personal firearms save a few BB guns for hunting chickens.  Local Pohnpeians make very little income relatively (minimum wage = $1.35 USD), but enough so that no one is homeless and no one goes hungry.  Okay there are 2 crazy homeless people in town, but they are the type that wanted to be crazy and homeless.  

For the most part, the people are sweet and loving and very Christian.  And in the Pohnpeian manifestation of Christianity, people are held accountable for their actions yet completely absolved following repent.  For example, a man will cheat on his wife and apologize in public at church and will be forgiven and free to resume his life with his family and maybe cheat again if he feels like it.  I wonder if the generous, welcoming, family oriented traits were intrinsically Pacific or a result from the Christianity.  While I frown upon outside religious influence on indigenous peoples, I also wonder what Pacific people would be like if not for Christian missionaries.  Would there still be a sense of accountability?  Would family and community ties be as strong?  The Church is such an integral part of Pacific life that I can't help but think that it is responsible for some of the favorable cultural elements.

Now while I describe this perfect little utopia, keep in mind that Pohnpei is just teetering on collapse.  We discuss at length the devastation if methamphetamines arrive.  If China builds that godforsaken casino in Madolenihmw.  If the US withdraws compact funds.  If the lagoon becomes overfished--oh wait.  And not to mention the encroaching dengue epidemic in neighboring Yap.  Remember in The Gods Must Be Crazy when all it took was one soda bottle to corrupt a society?  Here tourism remains low because Continental/United keeps a monopoly on the flights deferring potential investors to Fiji or Samoa.  As a result of ridiculously expensive airfares, all the expats/foreigners on island work directly for the island in some capacity, okay maybe not the Tuna Commission.  

So combining warm climate, low income, US compact funds, plentiful food supplies, reduced access to drugs, strong Christian values, and reduced access to airfare, these influencing elements somehow keep Pohnpei relatively stable and lovely and safe.  Pohnpei, I am impressed by your resilience, and I implore you to retain your culture and stave off the demons in the uncertain years to come.  Thank you for having me, and I hope to return soon.

Christmas Comes Early

Disclaimer: This is a video of a puppy.  Puppies are irresistible and should be used with caution. 

On Wednesday morning at 5am, I awoke to the sound of a dying chinchilla.  The noise was definitely coming from downstairs where Missy lives with her family.  Later that morning I find this furball shivering on the cement, cold from a bath.  Spike the puppy came from a litter at Missy's mothers house, just 10 minutes down the road.  Missy grants me full puppy privileges, and I scoop him up into a blanket/skirt and I take him upstairs.  

In Pohnpei, dogs are a delicacy often found on the dinner table, but Missy and her family are a little more cosmopolitan.  Our other dogs Pak and White will not become dinner (I assure myself).  Pohnpeian dogs aren't kept indoors or showed affection, so it is a treat that I get to half raise Spike inside.  Yesterday, Spike and I were lucky enough to catch the intermittent visiting vet.  This is another luxury that a Pohnpeian dogs do not enjoy, but I feel better knowing he is vaccinated, de-wormed, and de-flea'd.

I've found that puppy therapy is a very real and effective treatment for all types of ailments.  Feel free to access this video at will and/or request live Skype video chats with Spike. 

No, because there weren't any Pilgrims in Pohnpei

By now, you are all very aware how I love culture and tradition.  So imagine my delight when Cori Jo brought Thanksgiving dinner to her Pohnpeian family!  In a Pohnpeian kitchen, older women are in charge of cooking and younger women help out.  Just like anywhere else, they have a specific way of preparing, cooking, and serving which is learned and reinforced from childhood.  So it's understandable that a Peace Corps volunteer from the US may not be as experienced in the local culinary arts.  I mean, hand-squeezing milk from grated coconut meat wasn't exactly typical in my house.  In an amusing and sometimes frustrating way, these differences translate to a complete lack of trust and faith in a volunteer's ability to do anything useful in the kitchen.  Basically, Cori Jo's host family won't let her boil water.  So incredibly, she produced an entire Thanksgiving meal by herself for her host family.  Mind you, this may have been influenced by the fact that her host parents missed the whole dinner while they were at a church function.  

In many Pacific Island Cultures, meat and food is cooked in an underground earthen oven.  The Māoris call this a Hāngi, in Hawaii it's an Imu, and the Pohnpeian word is Uhmw [oom].  In Rhode Island, we call it a Clambake.  And so, CJ's 22lb turkey was laid over hot stones, surrounded by breadfruit, and covered with blankets of large taro and banana leaves.  How long does it take?  Oh everything takes 45 mintues to cook in an uhmw.  Really?  We decided later that this is probably the maximum time that the oven can hold any type of cooking temperature.  While the bird did not sizzle to a golden brown, we have learned not to be fussy about such trivial things as food safety.  

 

 

photo courtesy of cori jo

photo courtesy of cori jo

Cori Jo served turkey, stuffing, gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie!  After she and I dish our plates, the siblings begin to prepare plates of food for the parents and elders.  There is an eating hierarchy in Pohnpei, so the higher title clan members must be served before the rest of the family.  This can be seen in the distribution of pig and turtle meat at a funeral.  After we sit down on the cement floor and begin eating with our hands, and after the elders' plates are prepared, at least two dozen family and neighbors appear suddenly in the buffet line.  The family thinks the food is strange, and cannot understand why we don't want rice and breadfruit with our meals, but they eat every last morsel and especially enjoy the gravy.  The feast is a success and clearly demonstrates CJ's ability to navigate the propane burner.  I am thrilled to have been invited to partake in this cultural mash-up and even more grateful to enjoy the comfort foods of Thanksgiving.  Thanks Cori Jo!

Even More Adventures (I've lost track of the months)

Bunkering

Ok 'bunkering' isn't a word but it best describes a daytrip to Lenger Island in the Pohnpei lagoon.  This little island is near my front deck and has some cool old relics from the Japanese era.  Great, I wanna go.  Some really cool adventury people arranged a daytrip to Lenger via outrigger canoe, based on the same style vessels that delivered migratory Pacific Islanders to these islands hundreds of years ago.  Ok fine, early migrants weren't using fiberglass.

After parking our canoe, we wander into the thick jungle until reaching a small opening in the side of a hill not unlike the hole where Alice fell down into Wonderland.  Inside is a dark dungeon of tunnels and rusted machinery.  Keep in mind, there are no signs, no markings, and no infrastructure suggesting that this is a tourist attraction.  It is actually an abandoned system of underground fuel storage tanks.  Lenger used to serve as the airplane fuel supply station during WWII, so we were climbing and crawling around and into these gigantic tanks underground.

Below the earth there is a huge cave some 260 feet in length.  It is completely dark underground, but there are many earthen pipes installed along the walls.  In the corner, there is a huge machine that looks like a rusty pump engine sitting quietly.  The storage tank is believed to have held 5,000 tons of fuel which could be pumped directly to the fuel supply jetty through these many earthen pipelines. 
-Pohnpei Ecotourism Travel Guide

Here I stepped in a nice pile of guano, not once but twice

 

Oh, just hanging out in the crawl space

What I found interesting about our group dynamic, was that no one was hesitant.  The tunnels were dark and damp and crawling with rats and spiders.  We disturbed many bats while climbing the 60 foot rusted ladders into a 3 foot crawl space and back down into the giant metal storage tank room.  Upon exiting, we were drenched in sweat and covered in a lovely mud/guano paste which was soon forgotten with a quick dip into the lagoon.  Thank you to Yvonne and Alex for organizing the trip and yes, I definitely want to join you for more activities in the future.

Descending into the tank

Photo courtesy of Doreen Bessing

Sketch courtesy of Alex Zuccarelli

Climbing Things

The most prominent and recognizable physical feature of Pohnpei is Sokehs [SO-kez] Rock.  Sokehs island protrudes into the lagoon from Kolonia town, with the iconic rock cliff standing bravely at the head of the island.  They say that you can climb it, but that it's a "tricky" or "sketchy" climb and that you have to wait for a day when there hasn't been rain.  (Did I mention that Pohnpei is the rainiest place on earth averaging an annual rainfall of 200-400 inches?)  

Okay, climbing team assembled and dry sunny day ordered.  Sneakers, water, hat, check.  Transport to the base of the hike is via pickup flatbed, the preferred way to travel in Pohnpei.  The first half hour is a rugged uphill hike over slippery rocks through dense sauna jungle.  Many hikes here require the hire of local guide.  Yvonne arranged for Miller [MY-lar] Benjamin, a former high school principal and son of a local Nahnmwarki (king), to lead us atop the rock.  So this nice older man is completely schooling us on the hike up.  He's wearing flipflops/jandals/sandals/zories and swiftly glides along the slippery rocks like he's skiing uphill.  In no time, I am definitely winning for most sweatiest.  Then we reach the part where there are ropes.  Miller says, "There is a metal pipe which goes to the top carrying wires for a beacon light but in some places, the pipe is rusted away with exposed live wires.  Also there is a rope to hold onto, but in some places the rope has been damaged by the sun and is like razors or has broken."  This begins the part of the hike where, if you fall, you are fucked.  In the first scary part, we hold onto the rope while traveling sideways along a vertical cliff that is wrapped by thick vine trees.  It's cool and fun and adrenaline pumping.  
We reach a flat part and give high-fives and take a water break, go team!  And then we see the assent to the top.  HOly fuck.  (I have to swear in this post, otherwise you won't understand the severity.)  I mean, it's so ridiculously dangerous that we are just laughing out of fear.  Sure, I'll go first.  Adrenaline takes over rationality, and I climb alternating between holding onto sharp fiberglass rope and burning hot black metal pipe.  This is until I reach the part where there is no foot hold, rusted ragged live wire pipe, and no more rope.  Maybe this is what they meant by "tricky."  Somehow falsely assured by the team behind me, I continue, and miraculously we all reach the top.

With shaky hands we fumble with our cameras to capture the panoramic views.  The Japanese used the plateau on Sokehs as both a strategic military lookout and also as a pineapple plantation?  Just as we're sucking down water and patting ourselves on the back, we see a solid curtain of rain on the horizon coming our way.  Without a chance to mentally prepare for the sheer rock face that we must grapple down, we hurry to beat the downpour.  The descent is so much scarier as you can see directly down to your death rather than focusing on the rock above.  With shaky legs and fiberglass filled fingers, we arrive back down to sea level, and once again, I have won the sweaty contest.       

Here is a shot looking straight down.
Notice the pipe/rope in the bottom right corner...

 

Halloween

The annual halloween party is at the Rusty Anchor.  Remember when I wrote about Prom and wished I had shopped at super savers?  Costume prize awarded.

On actual halloween night, I was ill-prepared for trick-or-treaters.  I live 15 minutes outside of Kolonia town along a very rural stretch of road.  While I wave to all of my Pohnpeian neighbors on my early morning jogs, I am naively unaware that they know a) about trick-or-treating or b) where I live.  Welp I was wrong.  After a full day of work at the hospital, I was relaxing on the deck, in the hammock, reading my book, sipping some wine when my guard dogs Pak and White start barking.  (These are the best guard dogs ever, by the way.  They always bark bloody murder when an unknown person walks up the driveway.)  I find a Pohnpeian girl circa age seven in a scary monster mask with her mother at my doorstep, and they have come from next door for candy.  Oops, I completely forgot!  In a quick act of improvisation, I steal into the extra large M&M bag in the fridge, and portion out into a plastic baggie.  Apparently Pohnpeians aren't concerned that I'm trying to poison them.  Because we are also having a cultural intersection, using simple English, I have invited them inside to sit and offered something to drink and asked about their family and their health.  It is a beautifully awkward five minutes.  Pfew glad that's over.  In about a half hour the same girl returns with a teenage boy.  Oh, you also want candy?  Later, two more little girls arrive unchaperoned with no costumes.  They come inside and awe at the splendor of a menwai house.  I'm almost surprised they did not open the fridge and help themselves.  Then four older teenage boys arrive.  Having dispersed all of the remaining candy, I am resolved to become the halloween grinch that shuts off the lights and hides inside while Pak and White go nuts at all the kids on the street at night.  Kinda like the Simpson's episode where Grampa whines "I'm scared and there are teenagers after me."  

Email 101

Do you remember the first time you used a computer?  Or had the internet explained to you?  Imagine teaching the concepts of software, browser, web address, Google, and chat.  Where do you begin?  The start button?

My Pohnpeian neighbor Missy is friendly and kind, speaks very good English, and occasionally delivers delicious food to me.  (Sidenote: Missy feels bad for me because I am 28 years old with no children, so she offered to give me one of hers.)  Apparently she has 5 children.  At first it was just the 4-year-old boy Logan, and then months later some teenage boys appeared from nowhere, and now there are also 2 older daughters living in the US.  (Now many many Micronesians live in the US because they can according to the agreement of the Compact of Free Association.  I will explain this concept further when I actually understand it.  FSM is like the illegitimate child of the US; it receives child support but no actual love, affection, or quality time.)

Missy's daughter living in Hawaii just had a baby which means that she has become a new grandmother!  This is wonderful, congratulations!!  Next, Missy very sheepishly tells me that she has a computer address for her daughter and would like to see pictures over the computer.  OH!  I get it!!  Yes, of course I will teach you how to use email to begin corresponding with your daughter overseas and view photos of your first grandchild.  What happens next would make a fantastic Hallmark card advertisement.

So last night Missy and I huddled around my glowing laptop screen and attempted to cover the topics of Internet Explorer, Gmail, and cursor manipulation.  Together we successfully sent an email to the daughter in Hawaii.  Most confusing was the abstract concept that your email account is accessible on any computer that has an internet connection.  "But how does it know?"  Good question.  Sometimes I feel the same way when I try to imagine how this whole new 'cloud' technology works.  So all of my files are in thin air?  Are they safe?

I recommend to Google that you, giant software company, should create a very simplified basic version of email for new computer users from developing countries.  This globalization thing is real, and people from every last corner of the Earth will soon have access to cell phones and wireless internet.  While your email interface gives users a million options to enhance communication, this is busy and overwhelming for a first time user.

Missy has also expressed wanting to learn better computer skills so that she can get a better job.  Currently she works at a clothing shop in town but would like to apply for a library job closer to where we live in Awak.  She fears that she can't get the job if she can't use a computer confidently.  This is a win-win situation.  Missy can learn skills enabling upward mobility, and I can feel useful as a spoiled menwai living on a developing island.  Success!

Palm Thief

Dictionnaire d'Histoire Naturelle of 1849

Imagine a lobster on steroids that has emerged out of the oceans to dominate and conquer all terrestrial creatures.  This is the coconut crab.  It is the largest land arthropod in the world.  Found on islands across the Indian Ocean and parts of the Pacific Ocean, their distribution basically follows the coconut palm, except where there are large human populations that have eaten them all up.  Yum.  

Coconut crabs can live up to 60 years and weigh up to 9 lbs.  The world record leg span is 3 feet.  They have adapted these cool "branchiostegal lungs" to survive on land and only go to the sea to lay eggs. 

Misconceptions:

1. Coconut crabs only eat coconuts. 
   False.  Adult coconut crabs feed on fruits, nuts, seeds, and the pith of fallen trees, but will also eat carrion and other organic matter opportunistically. While coconut crabs can climb trees, and can eventually open a coconut collectively, coconuts are not a significant part of their diet.
   
   
2. Coconut crabs are only found on the outer atolls of Pohnpei.
   False.  Right after I arrived, Kevin showed me a juvenile he found in our back yard/jungle.

We camped out on Ant Atoll a few weeks ago, and one of Wilbur's boys captured a nice big one for us to enjoy.  If you play survivor man correctly on Ant, you can subsist on fish, coconuts, and coconut crabs only.  We may have supplemented this diet with rum.

Genus Species: Birgus latro
Pohnpei Name: Emp
Claim to fame: Both endangered and delicious

 

 

Tiger vs Washer

 

For a while now, we've had an ongoing discussion of which will die first: the 1996 Opel Tigra or the General Electric wbxr1060tbww washing machine.  At first it was a joke, but it's become a rather serious battle.  One of these is destined to meet its maker.

When I first arrived in April, the washer had a quirk.  "If it doesn't spin, just remove the clothes and lift the drum and it should be fine.  Also, the wash settings dial is gone, so to start a load, use pliers to pull the metal piece out to start the machine."  When Boris first lent me his car, it was "now the drive shaft doesn't always click into position properly, so just maneuver it until it clicks into gear."  I'm used to quirky machines, these should be fine.

While Boris was vacationing in Europe for 2 months, little Tigra developed further issues.  It began overheating, which is not good in the tropical equatorial heat where local driving speeds max out at 35 mph.  I brought it to Jerry at Padicom.  The problem was that the temperature sensor, which tells the engine fan to turn on, was busted.  So Jerry decided to bypass the sensor to keep the fan permanently on.  Great, thanks, here's $35.  Also, the radio volume dial developed a mind of its own.  Turning the dial clockwise or counter-clockwise does not have any influence on whether the volume will get louder or softer or MAXXX OUT OH MY GOD TURN THAT DOWNNNN!!!!

In this time, the washer load size dial broke.  Yes, it is permanently stuck in the 'mini-basket' position.  This makes washing towels, sheets, and bathmats really interesting.  "Suze, can I wash some of my clothes at your house?"  Yes, but you can only wash 2 shirts and 1 pair of underwear, and if it doesn't spin then we have to adjust the drum and rerun the cycle.  I like to fix stuff, so I bought a funny hexagonal screwdriver and some WD40 from Ace Hardware but could not remove the rusted screws to adjust the broken dial. 

Now the Tigra may look sleek and sporty, and I may get many compliments from local teenage boys and endless long stares through town, but don't be fooled, this is not an island worthy vehicle.  Why not?  Because this is a developing country and the roads are not smooth.  Like one night when I hit a rock pulling into the Rusty parking lot and the car stalled out, wouldn't start, and smelled badly of fuel.  Thankfully, Ray at CarCare tows on Saturdays and replaced the plastic/rubber fuel line that I severed so strategically.  Here's $90.

Currently, the washer will fill to 'mini-basket' and agitate to wash but will only spin 1/10 cycles.  Oh, and the car, automatic transmission, now only starts in neutral.

One day the car stopped accelerating.  On the instrument panel there was a blinking "S" with a circle around it.  Sugar?  Sportmode?  Sell Now?  It would drive forward, but felt like I was towing a tank.  No pick up.  Couldn't get up my steep terrifying driveway even when I got a 100 yard full speed running start.  Ughh.  The nice Filipino boys at CarCare noticed the car was overheating and decided that little Opel needed a transmission overhaul including replacing the automatic transmission fluid.  They found that when Jerry had bypassed the temp sensor, he left the dead sensor in the engine with a bunch of mangled crossed wires.  Only $99 and 8 hours later, I was out of Super Fucked mode and back on the road and up the driveway.

I've begun frequenting a laundromat called 4TY.  Reminds me of the Grey Lynn Laundrette which makes me wish Ben and Amy were here so we could eat pies and play scratch cards while people watching and waiting for available dryers.  

So these are the stakes.  Place your bets folks.