Manit Week

This week is devoted to celebrating the Marshallese culture, or manit. We celebrate this Monday through Thursday at school and then culminate with a national holiday on Friday (this means no school)! Today the middle and high school classes hosted volunteers who taught us various aspects of manit. This involves canoes, clans, music, and dance to name a few, and of course, food. Two foods that I learned about today are the coconut and the breadfruit.

Every part of the coconut tree is useful in some way. The Marshallese use the leaves or fronds to make plates (enra) and baskets. The coconut itself is used in various stages of ripeness. We drink from the young coconuts. As they age the juice turns into a semi-solid that is used for eating and making a coconut candy. Of course there is the meat that is shredded. The coconut is inside of a thick fibrous husk. The men husk the coconuts by shoving them onto a sharp stake and tearing off the outer shell. These husks make great kindling. The hard shell is used like our charcoal because it will burn for a long time. There is also another part of the tree that holds sap. The Marshallese drain this sap from the tree and boil it into a syrup. If left more than a couple of days it ferments into an alcohol; left longer it turns into a vinegar of sorts. This was the islanders’ source of sweetener before the missionaries brought sugar to the islands. Our volunteers boiled down the sap and added shredded coconut to make a type of candy. They rolled it into balls and then wrapped it in saran wrap. They gifted me with a necklace of the candy balls and was I ever popular today!

Another pair of volunteers taught us how to preserve breadfruit. Breadfruit is a green fruit about the size of a small acorn squash. It is a starchy fruit that ripens around May. The people here bake it and deep fry it into chips. But it can also be made into a pudding/paste type dish called bwiro that will last indefinitely. This was useful in times past because food supplies were limited. Also, they needed foods that would last on long canoe journeys. The process of preparing the dish was fascinating! The first thing I learned was that women take the ripe breadfruit, pare and seed it, and put it into a bag such as a pillowcase. There it sits. Once a month the bag is put into the lagoon where the saltwater takes care of any insects and bacteria. Meanwhile, the breadfruit softens, so that by the end of the year it is ready to knead.  Coconut milk is made from water and grated coconut and added to the kneaded breadfruit. The mixture looks like cake batter. Breadfruit leaves are washed and formed into cones and secured with ties made from the branches of pandanus trees. The cones are filled with the batter. The women gather up and turn down the top of the cones and tie with more pandanus ties. These are then put onto a fire created with the coconut husks and shells, along with pieces of coral to hold the heat. After a couple of hours in the fire, the sweet paste is ready to eat. You can eat it right away or save it for a later date.

I don’t know if I have been able to convey how interesting all of this was today, but I have included several pictures that I hope you enjoy! Tomorrow we go to a canoe exhibit and on Thursday we get to see a display of finely crafted mats. What a fun week!

I hope you all are well and enjoying life! Take care, Becky

husking the coconut

kneading the breadfruit

making the "twine" from the pandanus branch and looking cute

the ribelle teacher, Adam,  sits on the bench and grates the coconut

making the breadfruit leaf cones

making the cone packages from the breadfruit leaves

straining the cococut milk from the shredded coconut and water mix

cooking the breadfruit on the fire pit with the coconut shells and coral

More Fishing Marshallese Style

First I must tell you that I have been humbled. I was so proud of the 385 pound Marlin we caught last month but last week was the all Micronesian Tournament and Becky and I went down to watch the weigh in. A husband and wife team from Palau brought in a 551 pounder. Now that fish was a monster.

551 pounds

Saturday was the local monthly Billfish Tournament and I was again lucky enough to be invited to crew on Ronnie’s boat. John and Hugh were again on board and a friend of Ronnie's named Gary who is from Renton WA but has been living here aboard his 38 foot sailboat since 1998.

John

Ronnie at the helm

We left the dock at 6:00 AM and were soon out of the lagoon and in the open ocean. This time the sea was much rougher than last month. The swells were 4 to 6 feet and the wind was blowing around 20 knots. Ronnie’s boat handles the ocean well but we were tossed around all day.

Hugh not feeling well.

The fishing was great but the catching was lousy! We had two really good strikes that took everything including the swivels. We had one marlin on but it must not have been hooked well enough and spit out the lure. We did catch one 20 pound yellow fin tuna and two small (7-8 pound) skip jacks so there was fish to take home but a big goose egg for tournament points. Fortunately for us, of the eight boats in the tournament only one had a qualifying fish and it was a small marlin weighing in at 131 pounds. So Ronnie stays well in the lead for the years total points in the annual competition.

I count the day as a success because I didn’t get seasick (Hugh did) and still went home with a nice piece of tuna. Just another tough day as a Cabana Boy.

Trolling at 9 knots

Ronnie and John looking for birds

Our fishing platform

Mandatory Improvisation and Other Cultural Norms

I attended a conference this week. It was called The Pacific Epidemiological Workforce Development Academy. Basically, people from the Pacific island nations gathered to learn how to use data better to help prevent substance abuse on their islands. I have attended a lot of conferences in the past but his one had a flavor of its own!

Every day we opened in prayer. Then there were the usual ice breakers and the serious work sessions. We worked collaboratively in groups and did a lot of brainstorming and problem solving. Lunch though was an hour and a half every day! And on the third night, there was a BBQ where everyone was invited.

I told Willard we should go and so we went, thinking we’d stand around, swap some stories, eat some food and gracefully leave. It turns out it wasn’t THAT kind of BBQ! We got to the beach and the tables were all set up with large bottom fish in the center of the tables for us to munch on. The woman who organized the party, got up and thanked the host (The Honorable Minister, Mr. Addy, the Minister of Finance), and grace was said by a Samoan in his native tongue. We all got up to help ourselves to a buffet of local foods: sashimi, yams cooked in coconut milk, breadfruit, rice, chicken, and on and on. Because the conference was about substance abuse, water was served. It was delicious and we were all happy! The real entertainment, however, was yet to come.

Each country was expected to contribute something for the evening. Because the Republic of the Marshall Islands was hosting, we went first. I was happy to have safety in numbers because I was able to just stand and clap while everyone sang the song in traditional Marshallese. We finished and the next country was called up, Palau, I think. There were only a couple of people from this country so there was no hiding behind anyone. But it turns out that all of these folks from the Pacific feel free to invite anyone or everyone to join them on stage and it also turns out it is rude to refuse. Really, you just DON’T refuse! So they had a great time taking turns getting the folks in the audience to come up and sing and dance. They make great sport of it and think it is hilariously funny when the people they have called on look silly because they don’t have a clue! This happened over and over all night long; they even called the host and his cronies up! In the meantime, we enjoyed traditional songs and dances from all over the islands. At one point I about fell off my chair when the man from Saipan got up and began by dedicating his song to Nancy Reagan! But remember, we were all together to combat drug and alcohol use in the Pacific, and if you recall, First Lady Reagan was the person who had the “Just Say No” campaign. So he calls folks up to the stage and sings a song in his language about saying no to alcohol, no to marijuana, no to all of the bad stuff. It was a riot! We did get up and dance with the rest of the group around the tables for one of the numbers, but other than that, because we are not island people, they left us alone.  At the end, the RMI group did a beautiful dance involving their fans made from dyed coconut fronds. At the end the women all gave their female guests the beautiful hand-made fans they were using. They closed in prayer and we left three hours after we arrived, wondering when we’d had that much fun!

The following day was the last day of the conference. We finished up at 3:00 and I was thinking about how nice it was to be done early so I could get back to the Coop campus. Wrong! There was a half hour of closing ceremony. The RMI sang a traditional song about waving goodbye as the guests take off in their canoes, while the guests all paraded around the room “paddling their canoes” as they went. The Marshallese hosts followed this with another two traditional songs (again, I just stood and clapped) and then bestowed the lovely handmade handicrafts for which these folks are famous, on their guests. The guests then took turns at the microphone, thanking the Marshall Islands for their wonderful hospitality. The Samoans graced us with a song of their own. Then we all stood around in a circle, holding hands, singing yet another song. Of course we closed in prayer, this time in the Marshallese language. Hugs and kisses – and some tears - and the conference finally closed. It was an amazing cultural experience, especially from a conference centered on collecting data!

(Willard did ask me when we left the BBQ, what song I was going to prepare for the next event. I told him I’d fan him like a chief with the traditional fan while he sang HIS number! Yikes!!)

I hope all is well on the other end of the world. Our church prayed for the Americans this morning as you honor the 9/11 victims. You are all in our thoughts and prayers, Becky

This week in Majuro

My time as a Cabana Boy has been curtailed this week by the absence of two teachers, a principal, and a conference on substance abuse that Becky had to attend all week. So I have been teaching the first two periods of the day (algebra and Pacific Studies) and then covering the office until 4:00 when Becky returns. I will say that the kids are polite, and if not eager to learn, at least willing to do the work assigned. The students at the high school level speak relatively good English and understand the materials and concepts even when presented by an old retired cop.

Because we are both gone all day Mischief has been brought to school each day. She spends the first two hours in her crate but then spends the rest of the day making friends with whoever comes into the office. And of course the kids love her when I take her outside at lunch and at the end of the day. It appears that there are very few dogs treated as house pets here and many of the kids are shy of Mischief at first. But with a little coaxing, even the small kids come over to pet her. Because Mischief went on the middle/high school retreat all the older kids know her and think she is great. They are amazed that we would bring her from Auburn and they are intrigued by her looks.

I had planned an X-box fest for this week but as my loving bride reminded me, as part of my Cabana Boy duties, I must help her when she asks. So this week I am a teacher/secretary. I guess being a Cabana Boy means being flexible.  As I’ve said before, life’s tough when you’re a Cabana Boy.

Willard

Stopped by the Police

Sept. 02, 2011

Today is Dri-Jerbal Day. It’s akin to Labor Day and it’s a national holiday. So there’s no school except that there is a first time ever women’s mock parliament and so the high school goes on a field trip. This is an interesting, albeit long experience because we sit for two and a half hours. The teachers can’t understand a word and I am not sure how much the high school students care. But they are as good as gold and sit patiently. We are fed lunch at the venue, which is a huge bonus.  Afterwards I stop at the hospital to see my student and then to the grocery store to buy supplies since the Cabana Boy and I are entertaining the staff tomorrow.  Once the errands are run I am very happy to head home on my 40 minute drive home (it’s 30 minutes if Willard drives but the road still freaks me out, plus I am a more polite driver).

Now, this is my third time to drive the car. It’s a nice enough rig but I am still getting used to the gears and the quirks. I think there are eleven speed bumps between the school and my house and that makes having a manual extra fun. But I am doing fine! That is until I realize that the police are pulling every car over, from both directions. Of course, that means me too. I get in line and wait, cursing the situation on several levels. This car doesn’t have air conditioning which is usually fine as long as it’s not pouring in the middle of the day and the car is moving. Now I am roasting. Another issue is that I do not have a Marshallese driver’s license and I am HOPING that all of the other required paperwork is in the glove compartment. I am also thinking that the police officer probably has limited English skills, and I know that my Marshallese is nil. I have no idea what the issue is; all I know is that they are letting some cars go while they are writing others up. I resign myself to a ticket as I creep along with the line. When it’s my turn I give him everything, the Washington State Driver’s License, the transfer of title and the registration. He looks at it and lets me go. Whew! I move forward, right into the ditch I didn’t see. I try to move forward and the wheel is spinning, loud enough to catch the attention of the officers on the opposite side of the road. Now they are yelling –I am guessing it is “stop” or “quit.” They come over and are trying to tell me what to do in Marshallese.  I am trying to follow their gestures and finally I get the steering wheel pointed straight and they push me out while I step on the gas. Kommel ta ta, which I do know means thank you very much, and I am down the road. I still don’t know what they wanted but for now my driver’s license is fine and I think the car might just be o.k. too!

I was too frazzled (and busy) to take pictures of the incident, but I am including pictures of the mock parliament. The wreaths on the women’s heads are traditional headpieces for women called wuts which literally means “rain.” When I entered the building, they gifted me with a wut that I wore for the occasion. They are all a little different but are usually made of fresh flowers and greens.

Take care,

Becky

More Adventures of a Cabana Boy

Sunday night I broke a filling chewing on some hard candy. Now I know that you’re supposed to let hard candy dissolve slowly but I’m an impatient cabana boy.  The missing filling left some sharp edges but no pain so I went to bed (Becky having already retired).

Monday, I didn’t think about my broken filling all day but did mention it to Becky in the evening and she promptly went ballistic and insisted I get it fixed immediately. I told her I would when I had the chance but visiting my own dentist takes me some time to work up my courage and to visit a strange dentist in a foreign country made my blood run cold.

Tuesday I spent the morning building a cinder block barbeque in our back yard and so of course had no time for a dentist visit. That evening I did receive a severe tongue lashing from my bride about not getting it fixed and that she was not going to feel sorry for me if I didn’t take care of it.

Wednesday I substituted all day at Coop school. I was the science teacher for the day for which I am owed the handsome sum of twenty dollars.  I was also able to narrow down my options for dentistry. It was either go to the community hospital where the dental clinic for the country is located and pay $17 for my visit or try the one independent dentist on the island. Being an avowed capitalist I decided to visit the private dentist no matter the cost.

Thursday morning after cleaning the house I screwed up my courage and drove downtown to the General Dentistry Office to get my filling fixed. Walking in the door was not reassuring. The small reception area had three children watching cartoons and no adult in sight, but the oldest boy (8) said something (in Filipino I think) and Dr. Ramos walked out of the back and introduced himself. I explained my needs and asked to make an appointment, thinking I would get a reprieve. No such luck. Dr. Ramos said he could fix me up right then unless I had somewhere else to be. I summoned my courage and back we went into the treatment area.

Dr. Ramos ushered me into a pretty standard dental chair and began to make preparations. I looked around the treatment room trying to gauge the level of barbarous treatment I was about to subjected to. I would say that the equipment reminded me of what I remember a dentist treatment room looked like circa 1990. No TV or video. Not a lot of plastic. Chrome and porcelain seemed to dominate but I was reasonably sure Dr. Ramos was really in the dental business. Anyway, a brief exam, a little drilling to remove the rest of the filling, a little prep work on the hole, then a new filling. All done in 40 minutes from start to finish. The total bill for this procedure was 40 US dollars. I will get a price list for services for Stacey and Kim so they can stay competitive.

Happy to be out of the dentist with minimal pain I decided to reward myself by buying the television set I’ve been eyeing. So now my tooth is fixed, my X-box is up and running, and Becky is happy. Life’s tough when you’re a Cabana Boy.

Willard