Orientation: The Beginning

On Monday morning, I woke up at 7:00 for the start of orientation. I showered, ate breakfast, and started walking to PICS. Although I successfully navigated my way from Clara’s to Amy Delyla’s the day before, I was not so lucky this morning—I got horribly lost. (Which was, in part, due to a flipped street sign, I would later learn.) Amy found me walking (the wrong way) down Daini Street and she drove me the rest of the way to PICS. I was embarrassed and ticked off, since I’d woken up early so I wouldn’t be late, but I got over it pretty quickly and no one gave me a hard time about it. We all met in the room that will soon be my classroom—and it’s a mess. One of the windows is missing, so it’s been broken into. Amy warned me that I might walk in on students having sex on the floor when I arrive in the morning. The ceiling is covered in cobwebs and, when we arrived, someone had written “fuck you and me” all over the blackboard (which I found oddly poetic).

Our first session focused on logistical issues and we learned, for the first time, about some of the things that happened with last year’s WorldTeach volunteers. Apparently, it was a bit of a disaster and the seven of us are responsible for restoring WorldTeach’s reputation on the island. We had to sign a contract with two stipulations: 1. If we get into a fight with a local, we get sent home (losing our deposit and our return ticket); 2. If we go to Club Kintaro, we get sent home (losing our deposit and return ticket). Club Kintaro is a brothel and, apparently, it’s the only place open after 2am—and there’s karaoke. Amy says that some of the ex-pats are going to try and get us to go there, so we’ll have to firmly decline unless we want to get kicked out of WorldTeach. And she says she’s serious. I don’t have any particular desire to go to a brothel (and I really don’t think fighting with locals will be a problem), but the ultimatum seems a little harsh. However, I cannot imagine how I would explain to my parents that I got fired for hanging out at a brothel, so I plan on staying away.

After reviewing rules and procedures for a few hours in the hot classroom at PICS, we broke into two groups and went on a scavenger hunt around Kolonia. We all got bank accounts at the Bank of Guam, where our living stipends will be deposited. We also learned why kids often come to class with sticky red hands (from eating uncooked ramen mixed with Kool Aid—yum) and how Pohnpeians chew betel nut (with the end of a cigarette, crushed coral, and a pepper leaf). I was in bed by 8:00, but I managed to finish reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest before I fell asleep. I also had time for a photoshoot with Letecia and Destiny, the first of many. Whenever Pohnpeian kids have their photo taken, the gang signs go up. It’s not so bad when they throw a peace sign, but every so often you get the shocker.

On Tuesday morning, Amy gave us a crash course in Pohnpeian; our regular language teacher couldn’t come in until Wednesday. We learned some basic greetings (“Kaselehie” means hello) and other useful words (“Ih med” means I’m full—which should prove very helpful). We also reviewed evacuation procedures, in the unlikely event of a typhoon or tsunami. After lunch, we headed to COM for the second part of the day. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to be teaching at PICS, but the conditions at COM are much better. The teachers (who must have Masters degrees) have an air conditioned office and SmartBoards in their classrooms—I can’t even hope for an overhead projector, lights, or a working ceiling fan. (Note: While I was lying on my bed, typing this, a baby gecko crawled up my shorts. At first I thought it was a roach. I guess a lizard is better? I love Pohnpei.)

Breakfast on Wednesday included donuts (they love them here), sweet rolls, ramen, and green tangerines, which are absurdly delicious. During our morning session at PICS, people were mowing the lawn outside the building the entire time, while it was pouring rain. It was pretty hard to listen to our language lesson. I sure wish they would fix the window in my classroom instead of fussing with landscaping. After lunch, the US Ambassador to the FSM met with us at PICS. Ambassador Prahur has been in Pohnpei for about six months; he was previously stationed in Russia. Improving the educational system is one of his main objectives, so he had a lot of interesting things to say to us. We also discussed the Compact of Free Association between the US and the FSM and how this shapes relations between the two countries. The US gives the FSM about $130 million per year under the Compact, which equals about $1000 per person. The FSM has a 2.1% growth rate and a 2% out-migration rate, mostly to the United States; there are about 40,000 Micronesian immigrants living in the US. He also talked about some environmental and natural resource issues in the FSM. Reef fish are being fished at about 149% of sustainable levels. This is for local consumption; they’re not being exported. The problem is that fish is one of the few healthy things people eat here—so the solution isn’t to get people to eat less fish. Another major stress on the marine ecosystems here is human and animal waste entering the water—people often keep their pigs right next to the lagoon. This is such a beautiful place and it’s being destroyed, not out of malice but out of ignorance, and out of a lack of viable alternatives.

On Thursday I woke up at 6:00 to go for a run, wearing my new Five Finger Shoes. Whew, I am out of shape. Not to mention how hot and humid it is here, which didn’t help my speed or stamina. I ran for about 40 minutes (I walked for part of it, I’ll admit) and then headed back to Clara’s for a shower and breakfast. Today’s language lesson at PICS focused on counting, which is way more complicated in Pohnpeian than it is in English (and most other languages). First we learned one through ten: Ehu, riau, siluh, pahieu, limau, wenou, isuh, waluh, duau, eisek! Then, much to our dismay, we learned that Pohnpeian actually has twelve (eisek riau) counting systems. In addition to the regular system, there are different words for counting people and animals, long objects, round objects, objects used to tie things together, etc. Ridiculous. I’m just going to learn the standard method and let the Pohnpeians laugh at me when I count a basket of coconuts incorrectly.

Later we were joined by two former PICS students, MC and Jovie, who were in Amy Delyla’s English class last year. They were both very shy, but they warmed up a bit and we discussed their experiences at PICS, in Pohnpei, and life in general. MC has six kids in his family, which is about average, and Jovie has fourteen, all from the same mum and dad. And I couldn't get along with one sibling when I was growing up! (Although James and I are great friends now, obviously)

In the afternoon, I gave a presentation on teaching with visual aids; each volunteer is giving a presentation this week, on a different teaching topic. I think it went well, but I’m still glad that I wasn’t being graded. At the end of the day we went for a drive around Kolonia and ended up at Cupid’s, a bar and restaurant with an incredible view over the ocean—and free breadfruit chips. We stayed for most of happy hour, taking advantage of the $1 beers and $1 tequila shots (which I suspect were a bit watered down, though that doesn’t mean I left especially sober).

I had every intention of going for a run on Friday morning, despite the excess of $1 shots the night before, but when I woke up at 6:00 it was pouring rain. It rains every day, but it’s certainly not unpleasant; the rain is warm and it usually makes the rest of the day cooler. But it really poured today; it didn’t stop until mid-afternoon. The rain was streaming through Clara’s roof into a large tub stationed on the kitchen floor. After our morning language lesson with Taylor—who teaches history at COM—we met with Michaela Corr, a former World Teach volunteer and Field Director who now works for the US Embassy in Pohnpei. She talked about her experiences here—as a woman, as a menwai, as an ex-pat—and answered our questions about life in Pohnpei and her job at the Embassy, where she does public relations, diplomacy, and educational outreach. We had afternoon TEFL classes at COM, then we went to Leora’s homestay, which is also a sakau market.

Sakau. In short, it’s pretty gross. It’s the color of mud and feels like a gritty egg yolk in your mouth. Delicious, right? The taste isn’t terrible—I’d much rather drink a glass of sakau than a glass of straight vodka—but the consistency is rather unpleasant. It’s narcotic and people here drink it all the time; heavy users are called sakau-heads. When you’re drunk on sakau, it’s called being “sakau-la.” When you’re hungover after a night of drinking sakau, it’s called being “on sakau.” At the sakau market, you watch the sakau being made: They pound out the sakau root on a large stone, then they wrap it in hibiscus vines (the same thing you make a grass skirt with) and wring it out; the hibiscus gives it the mucusy texture. The sakau server comes to your table and passes you the cup—unless you’re a woman, then you drink last. Then you pass it back to the server, who wipes the rim of the coconut cup and hands it to the next person. Neither delicious nor hygienic. Not to mention that everyone around is chewing betel nut and hawking mad loogies constantly. Mmmm. Tim tried betel nut; he did not recommend it. I drank quite a bit of sakau, but I didn’t feel the effects. Apparently you have to drink it a few times before you feel it, and then you have to drink less of it to get sakau-la. So I guess I’ll have to try it again. Yay. Really, smoking a J seems much more pleasant and efficient.

I didn’t have any negative effects from the sakau, but several other volunteers had some stomach issues, which was pretty miserable since we all went on a hike at 9:00 the next morning. We met at the gas station on Kasalehlie Street, then Amy and Jonathan drove us to the base of Sokeh’s Ridge. The hike was very steep, but fairly short; it took us about an hour to get to the top, including a stop in the middle to look at some tanks left over from WWII. The view from the top was breathtaking. I wore my Five Finger Shoes, which were very comfortable (except when walking over sharp rocks). Seeing the barrier reef from the ridge made me itch to throw on my wetsuit and BCD, but I think I’ll have to wait until orientation is over—my schedule is packed for the next two weeks.

I came back to Clara’s after the hike and jumped in the shower, eager to wash my sweaty body. I started shaving my legs and cut the shit out of myself before I realized that the blade on my razor was upside down—Destiny. It might have been Letecia, but I’m pretty sure it was Destiny. I could kill them both. I love Clara and the girls are precious, but they are both nightmares sometimes. I can’t sit in my room or take a shower for longer than three minutes without one of them yelling, “Wheeeeeetneeeeeey! What are you doinggggg?” I might have to change my name. This is major character building. People keep telling me that the more time I spend around little kids the more I’ll like them, but I’m pretty convinced that they’re wrong. Peace Corps volunteers here live in homestays for two years—I wouldn’t make it. There’s no way.

Everyone showered and then we reconvened at the Catholic Church in Kolonia, which is the home of Father Hezel and MicronesiaSeminar, an organization dedicated to cataloguing the history of Micronesia—they have a huge library, which I’ll probably revisit if I end up doing a project on climate change in the region. (WT volunteers are asked to do weekly projects in addition to their teaching work; I may also do some research for Brighter Green while I’m here.)

On Saturday night, after a couple of drinks at the Rusty Anchor, we went to a party at the home of a former WT volunteer who served in the Marshall Islands; we were the guests of honor. We met a lot of ex-pats and Peace Corps volunteers. The hostess, Lihla, now works for the Micronesian Conservation Trust. It seems that there are a lot of opportunities here for conservation work, which is good news for me, especially if I decide to stay here after my assignment is over. The party was really fun and I’m going to enjoy getting to know these people better. A lot of the menwai here have great stories to tell—everyone has a unique reason for ending up in Pohnpei. However, it is a very small community; there’s not a huge selection of hot guys, for instance. But, seriously, pretty much everyone I’ve met here—both menwai and locals—has been incredibly welcoming and open, so I’m really looking forward to making friends on Pohnpei.