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