FUNdraising for Church

Today I went to a community fundraising event for my church. There are small-scale fundraising events every single week in my village, but this one was a much bigger deal. It often seems the main purpose of the church in Chuuk is to raise money from the people and then give them an excuse to have a feast. The belief in god is present, but I cant help escape the thought that the main reason people are part of the church is for social reasons. Abstaining from sin and seeking eternal salvation aren’t readily apparent in island life, but lots of food and sharing of money are noticeable everywhere.

This fundraising event was called Tiwichap and tried to raise funds for our upcoming centennial celebration. It is the 100^th year anniversary of the Catholic Church in Chuuk. Our parish wants to renovate our main church building and throw a kick ass party in May. They hope to raise $100,000 to do this.

Yes, the poor villagers of my island who cannot buy food or shoes for their children are attempting to donate $100,000 for a single party. It’s kind of an ironic situation, but the people are excited and I am happy for them. The event today was organized around the divisions of our clan system. The clan system is the ancient maternal structure of family units that determine land ownership and chiefdoms. In modern times it has lost most of its significance, but it still functions as a way to split the community members into smaller groups. I am part of the Soufia clan.

A fundraiser in Chuuk is a little different than in America. They don’t sell lemonade on a street corner or have a silent auction at a charity ball. This fundraising event started with groups of women marching into the meeting hall. They were each led by an excitable dancing lady with a whistle who yelled and screamed as she pranced her way through the crowd. Rows upon rows of 200-pound mumu clad mothers bounced into our meeting hall and competed with each to make the most noise possible. There were a few ladies who were extra spirited and had dance-offs in the center of the room. At random points throughout the meeting, they would hop up and burst into a frenzied outcry of wiggles and shakes. I loved it! It was great to see these normally quiet and reserved women let loose and go crazy for an afternoon. I had no idea they had this kind of unhindered energy inside them.

Sharing is very common in all aspects of Chuukese life, but they don’t try to keep it secret. Donations are always given publicly, so that everyone can see how much everyone is contributing. Its kind of awkward, but it also motivates everyone to get involved because no one wants to be out shown. We took turns walking up towards the main table and emphatically smacking down our dollars on the table in the front of the room. As the clan name was called, the dancing women would leap into the air and let out spirited chants to encourage donations. The contagious energy of these boosters tempted many people out of their seats and up to the donation table. Each clan had its turn, but the wealthier people donated to every clan. After a couple hours of public dollar throwing, we totaled up our money and came up with over $7000. The people were ecstatic.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this post, I have mixed feelings about all this donation stuff. Its great to see everyone uniting together to donate money and have a great time doing it, but it still irks me a bit. The sacrifice of essential food and clothing money to add an extra room on one of our church buildings is a little hard for me to swallow. Many of these people donated the few meager dollars that they had towards this cause. They saved themselves from public disgrace, but they might eat nothing but bananas for the next two weeks.

The Paradox of Poverty

The other night, my host brother BJ was scanning through a social studies book to find ideas to make a lesson plan about how to write persuasive essays. We were lying on the hard concrete floor of our little house with 15 people scattered around on the ground. A flickering light powered by our gas generator hung from a limp extension cord in the corner of the room. The leftovers from our dinner of rice and canned fish were being tossed out to the hungry dogs. My host mother was squatted in a tin roof shack as she scrubbed buckets of laundry by hand.

BJ looked up from his book, and casually asked me, “ John, there is no poverty in Chuuk, right?”

I hesitated for a moment and then started to mumble, “ummm….well, I don’t know about that”

My host sister Marben added her two cents quickly and said, “No, some people are just lazy”

I carefully treaded along a line of disrespect and tried to explain the point more clearly to the both of them, “It depends on how you define poverty, but I think there is definitely poverty in Chuuk. The difference between here and other places like Africa is that people in Chuuk aren’t suffering or miserable because of their poverty. They aren’t starving to death and aren’t homeless. The tight knit culture prevents that. But I still think that there is poverty. If you eat nothing but plain rice for most of your meals, that’s poverty. If you have no money for clothes or shoes, that’s poverty. If you don’t have enough money to send your kids to school, that’s poverty. If you have an income of zero dollars, that’s poverty”

The conversation trailed off and ended without much response from either of them. They both seemed dazed a little taken aback about what I of said. They weren’t offended by my comments, but I think they were just surprised to reanalyze their lives.

This was an illuminating talk for me and for them. In the same swift swing of things, it made me wonder if these people actually weren’t in poverty, and made them wonder if they actually were in poverty. It is all a matter of perspective.

If an outsider came to visit Chuuk, they would most likely immediately say that Chuuk is in poverty. The evidence would be smacking them in the face. Roads are virtually non-existent. Electricity is only available at the state center (and very unreliable). Every building either seems half finished or falling to pieces. The school system is in disarray. The local people are scared of their own hospital. On the surface, they lack all the necessities of a 1^st world country: infrastructure, health care, education and entertainment.

But if you look deeper into the people’s lives, an interesting paradox of poverty emerges. While Chuuk most certainly lacks the basic elements of an affluent society, it ironically also lacks the basic elements of a poverty stricken society. Nobody is starving to death. Nobody is homeless. Beggars are extremely rare. There is no political unrest. People don’t seem to be suffering.

I believe that there are 3 main reasons why Chuuk looks destitute, but is able to hover slightly above the standard poverty line. The first and most important reason is the extreme collectivist attitude of the people. Their communal connections and strong family relationships make it impossible for people to starve or be homeless. A family or friend will always provide a roof and a meal to a member of the community.

The second reason is the abundance of natural resources. A jungle teeming with plants and an ocean full of tasty little creatures can provide meals for a family that has no money to buy food. It also rains more than enough to provide fresh water for all household. That is why Marben said that the only poor people are lazy. In her view, if they got up off their asses and did some work then they could easily get enough fish and breadfruit to feed their families.

The final reason is the ridiculous amount of American money funneled into the FSM through the compact agreement. Millions of dollars are randomly thrown at these islands to keep them as military allies, and that money seeps down to the masses.

This incongruity with the basic units of poverty has made me reevaluate my view of Chuuk and of the world. It has made me realize that poverty is a relative term. Poverty in America means that you wear hand-me-down clothes and eat a lot of mac-n-cheese. Poverty in sub-Saharan Africa means that you are starving in a shantytown slum. Poverty in Chuuk means you simply live off the land. All of these can and should be considered poverty. And we should strive to alleviate the problems associated with extremely poor conditions. However, there is a differentiated scale that we should use to measure it.

The feelings of inadequacy compared to your neighbors and the inability to provide opportunities for your children will assuredly cause suffering for anyone. The presence of suffering is universal across poverty stricken areas, but again it varies depending on the circumstances. Feeling poor in America because you wear dirty shoes and use food stamps is a form of suffering. Feeling poor in Chuuk because you cant buy coca-cola or cigarettes is a form of suffering. But feeling poor in Africa because your baby just died of malnourishment is a whole different level of suffering.

Chuuk, and the many Pacific islands, are straddling this precarious line on the edge of poverty. In many respects, they are poor and underdeveloped societies. But in other ways, they are buoyed up from total poverty by a series of safety nets. Progress is often frustratingly slow in these remote specks of land, but maybe that’s a good thing. Progress could lead to a better life, or it could counteract those unique protective shields of community and environment and drive these people into true poverty.

Being vs Doing

I overheard one of my American friends Charles talking to a group of Chuukese the other day. He apologetically said, “The JVC community often talks about the difference between being and doing. In America, we are very good at doing. But in Chuuk, you are all good at being” He went on to talk about how he has struggled to learn how to just be, but he sees much of the value of that lifestyle. Many of the misunderstandings and frustrations from both sides come from a mismatch of styles based on this duality of being and doing.

I had never pondered this relationship before I came to Chuuk, but is it an apt explanation of the differences between the two cultures. Americans, and many of the modern nations, are always on the go. We work long hours, we strive for efficiency, and we are obsessively concerned with maximizing our time. It seems like there are never enough hours in the day to get everything done. Idle time is seen as wasted time. If you have nothing to do, then you need to get off your lazy ass and find something to do.

Chuukese, and most island people, have a very different approach to life. Their conception of time is much more fluid and does not impose rigid restrictions on their actions. Things flow along at a leisurely pace and happen when they happen. It is uncouth to force the immediacy of an issue or fret about keeping to a strict schedule. They work sporadic hours, strive for happiness and are obsessively concerned with maximizing relaxation. Sitting around doing absolutely nothing is totally acceptable. There is no awkwardness or wasted feelings associated with idle time. Idle time is part of life. If you have nothing to do, then you don’t need to do anything.

From a doers’ perspective, the be ers’ are lazy and inefficient. But from the b eer’s perspective, the doers’ are anxious and hurried. There are good points on either side. It depends on what is more important to you. Dedicating your life to getting a job done quickly and effectively, or simply living life and doing some jobs along the way. The doing people do produce better results for a prosperous civilization. They build bigger buildings and better roads, their schools are better organized and governments more methodical. Their economies grow and they accumulate vast amounts of material wealth. People that follow the doing path become CEO’s, lawyers and politicians.

However, there are a few things that the doing folk could learn from the being folk. Simply living life at a happy pace and going along with the flow of the world allows for very relaxed lifestyle. According to a vast body of legitimate psychological research, the preaching of various spiritual teachers, and the babblings of self-help guru books, the key to happiness is living in the moment. Thinking about the future and worrying about how it will unfold is the main cause of anxiety and stress for humans. And those emotions are some of the most damaging to personal well-being. People who follow the being path become priests, philosophers and farmers.

Worrying about deadlines and schedules, stressing about quotas and commissions, and aiming towards endless accumulation of goods are all terrible detriments to the human condition. Our preoccupation with meticulous efficiency is good for business, but terrible for happiness. Half of America gulps down bottles of benzodiazapenes to counteract the crazy life that they try to sustain. Nobody in Chuuk takes anti-anxiety pills.

What I Do in School

In my blog, I very rarely talk about my work. It is a big part of my experience over here, but for some reason I tend to skip over the details of my time in school. I usually just write about random events or island thoughts that come about, but it is probably a good idea to let you all know about my actual job here in Chuuk.

I am a teacher in elementary school. Well I am kind of a teacher. My official title is Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TESL) Instructor. However, the goal of my Peace Corps program is not just to teach school. If I just come in for a couple of years and teach a class and then leave, my impact is minimal. The only positive effect I have is on the few kids that I get to interact with. So the purpose of our program was expanded; the plan is for us to work with the local teachers and make a sustainable impact.

My real job as I see it is to not to teach English. It is to help the local teachers become better English teachers. This is much more challenging than teaching a class. Creating grammar activities and grading vocabulary tests is the easiest part of my job. Standing in front of a group of kids and telling them about pronouns can present its difficulties, but its really not that tough.

Changing the behavior and habits of experienced teachers however is no easy task. Uprooting an inefficient and ill-equipped system of education and replacing it with new ideas is hard to implement. But this is basically what we are trying to do. I spend most of my efforts trying to integrate techniques, lesson plans and ideas for the other teachers to learn from.

I work with the teachers from 5^th-8^th grade. I teach 45 minutes of English with them alongside. Then they teach another 45 minute period of English following my lesson plan. This allows them to observe my teaching methods first and then practice using lesson plans in their second period. It gives the students a good mix of varied instruction and helps them understand the topic that we are covering.

This set up puts me in a slightly precarious position because it assumes that I am an expert in education. They view me as an expert and I act like I know what I am talking about. But much of the time, I kind of make it up on the fly. Much of the stuff I do is just borrowed from teachers that I had when I was attending school in America. I just use common sense and my knowledge of the American education system to come up with new ideas about the organization and functioning of the school. I also have a large stash of books and guides about teaching English provided by Peace Corps. However, the number one tool that I use to teach the students and the teachers is logic. I look at a curriculum topic or classroom issue and just figure out a solution. I usually don’t know it’s the right solution until I try it, but so far most things have seemed work pretty well. The job is full of frustration and problems, but overall I feel that I have been making a good impact.

My principal and many of my teachers are very willing to work with me. We have made dozens of changes in our school system and countless more in the classroom. I have changed the daily schedule, implemented Open House and Back to School Nights, started athletic and farming projects, written a School Improvement Plan, and had countless meetings with the staff about how to improve our teaching.

But the best sign of success that I have seen is an increase in student performance. I have a handful of students who were failing when I arrived and now are getting A’s and B’s. Our national standardized test scores increased 600% in the last year and we set a school record for having the most students pass a prestigious high school entrance exam.

To my pleasant surprise, I actually do feel like somewhat of an educational expert after these couple years of teaching. Dealing with a pile of problems and coming up with novel solutions has taught me to analyze education from a variety of angles and I have learned plenty in the process. My teaching style in the classroom has proven to be effective and many of the other teachers are emulating my techniques and classroom demeanor. From my work, I have contributed a few things to the teachers and students of my school that I hope will be sustainable.

I am not very good at organization or neatness. I am not very good at planning. I am not very good at following guidelines. What I am good at is explaining things logically and making things fun. Good explanations ensure that changes happen and students learn. Having fun ensures that students come to school and are motivated to be in the classroom. These are my two contributions to my school and I hope they have a lasting impact.

Happy Hospitality

I often complain about Chuukese people and some of their not so admirable habits. Inefficiency, violence, laziness, ignorance and apathy sometimes bother me. However, they contain a few qualities that trump all these negative things. Chuukese are some of the most friendly and hospitable beings on the planet.

I believe that is deeply ingrained in them due to their close living quarters and tight family connections. It’s the same effect that happens in small towns. Everybody knows everybody, so everybody is nice to each other. But the Chuukese generosity extends beyond their community. They are phenomenal at making outsiders feel welcome. Some of this has faded since my novelty as a newbie has worn off, but I still get treated like a king anywhere I go.

At parties or get togethers, I am given a plate the size of suitcase and adorned with flower leis. Even if I don’t know the hosts or the occasion for the party, I am usually seated at the head table and fawned with attention. A fresh coconut will be brought to me immediately as I arrive and a small girl will probably stand next to me and wave the flies away from my food with a fan.

This welcoming attitude extends all over Chuuk. In the Mortlocks, my arrival was greeted by throngs of children singing songs and offering plates of fresh seafood. When I followed my friend to a new church, two of the pastors thanked me for attendance during their sermon and asked their parishioners to give me a round of applause. Politicians, priests, chiefs and grandmas have quickly jumped out of their seats to offer me a place to sit down. It is widespread and consistent throughout the islands.

However, the best example of their friendliness is their behavior on the roads and pathways. I took a short walk through a different community on my island the other day and thought I would tally the signs of hospitality that I received along the way. None of these people had ever met me before and could all be considered total strangers. This was a sparsely populated road with scattered houses, but here are the statistics of my walk.

This all happened in a 10 minute period.

17 people simply said hello.

6 of those people also asked me how I was doing.

9 of them asked where I was going.

4 different people shook my hand.

5 households hollered at me and asked me to come and eat rice with them.

And a countless number of people gave me beaming smiles.

Let me counter this with a fictitious (but realistic) example from my time living in Los Angeles.

If I were to walk down the streets of LA for 10 minutes, I could expect a grand total of 0 hellos.

3 cars would honk.

One guy would bump my shoulder in a crowd.

4 would make slight eye contact and then turn away.

 2 cars would cut me off.

1 homeless man would babble nonsense at me.

And a countless number of people would hurry along staring into their phones and ipods, not even lifting their heads.

People here treat others as people, not as other objects in the way. There is a strong human connection that is reinforced by people’s behavior. Generosity isn’t reserved for a select few, it is given freely to any passerby. Every house will offer walkers a place to rest and eat. Every pedestrian will smile and ask you where you are going. Every person will make the effort to show that they care.

Chuuk may be a fucked up place in many respects; but they can be proud of the fact that despite their mounting social problems, they still maintain some of the best hospitality in the world. Their unrelenting positivity and welcoming attitude is motivational at times. Anytime I get frustrated or disillusioned about the struggling society that I am trying to improve, someone will shoot me a big happy grin and I will be reminded of Bob Marley’s maxim “don’t worry about a thing, cuz every little thing is gonna be alright”

Appreciation

A few of my JVC volunteer friends from Weno came to our church on Fefan this last weekend and they got to see some of my home island. Charles’ mom from America was also visiting and came along. Their short visit and cheerful reactions that followed had a powerful impact on me.

They were taken aback by how amazing my community was. All them continuously commented how happy everybody looked and excited all the little children were. The atmosphere of friendliness and relaxation was in stark contrast to what they are used to on the grimy streets of Weno. Small kids giggled as they skipped past, and old men wandered over to shake their hands. I have come to accept this as normal behavior because I am surrounded by it all the time, but I forgot that this is truly special. The outward generosity and happiness of my island folk is pretty special.

The other thing that they were awed by was the overabundance of tropical plants. Fefan is famous for being fertile and every corner is spilling over with vines and leaves. Charles’ mother was especially impressed and said many times, “Oh this is wonderful! This is what I was hoping the islands would be like”.

Their hour long tour of my community made me appreciate my home much more. All of the things that impressed so much in the beginning of my service have now become commonplace, but reminders like this are necessary to make me realize that I am living in paradise.

Barbecued Vanilla

We had a staff meeting after school last week and it dragged on late into the afternoon. At the end of the meeting, I hurried home because I was starving and ready for a big lunch. I walked across the coral pathway and scampered up the muddy hillside leading to my house. A group of local boys and some of my family were cooking breadfruit on a fire outside the house. They all stared directly at me as I passed by and gave me some weird looks. I am used to being stared at, so it didn’t bother me. I figured my hair was looking crazy or my backpack was open or something.

I opened the door to my house and strolled towards the kitchen. As I walked into the small concrete kitchen, I was greeted by my dog Vanilla. She was lying on her back in a big bucket, charred to a crisp. Her lips were burned off and her teeth were snarling in an agonizing grin. Her black tongue lazily hung out of the corner of her mouth. All four legs were sticking straight in the air and her beautiful white coat had turned to a smoky black. The eyes had shriveled out and only ghostly sockets of death stared back at me.

I knew this day was coming. I had pushed it off for months. I made excuses and tried to argue for her life, but it was inevitable. A dogs’ ultimate fate in most of the Pacific (including Chuuk) is to end up in the belly of its owners. They can be loved and taken care of in life, but there is no remorse when its time for a feast. It seems horrid to us westerners, but its been standard practice for thousands of years in Asia and the Pacific.

I have eaten dog many times since arriving in Micronesia, but this was different. This was my dog. This was a creature who loved me. Vanilla was utterly and hopelessly attached to me. She would messily greet me with a muddy hug every morning and then stay at my heels for the whole day. She would come into my class, follow me on my walks, and even hop into the ocean when I took a swim. Vanilla was a loyal and loveable dog.

So when I saw her barbecued corpse sitting on my table, I was predictably upset. I went into my room and paced around. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to scream at my family and tell them they were all assholes. I paced around in my room and tried to distract myself. I wasn’t mad just because Vanilla was gone, I was mad because I had told them many many times to please spare her life. They are usually overly gracious in meeting any itsy bitsy request that I suggest, but not this time. Not when it actually mattered.

Then my brother BJ walked in and hollered, “hey Johnny, sa mwenge (lets eat) barbecue!”. This was too much for me to handle.

I yelled back, “Fuck No!” It was the first time I had used profanity anywhere near my household.

BJ replied, “ What?”.

I muttered, “ I said NO!” and then stormed out of the ouse.

I went down to the beach and sat on the bottom side of an old boat. I lay on this boat for the next 3 hours and made myself relax. My mind told me I was being stupid and shouldn’t be mad about all this. I know the culture and I have eaten dog plenty of times. But inside I was raging. Eventually the island breeze and sounds of gentle waves lapping on the beach worked its magic and cooled my nerves. I gathered myself together and buried my anger down inside

I decided to follow Ghandi’s example of satyagraha and do a little non violent resistance. I went on a fast for the rest of the day. I had never done anything like this before. I don’t think in my entire life I had ever missed lunch and dinner in the same day. But I decided I would do it this time. In honor of Vanilla. It was a way for me to avoid confrontation and make me feel better about myself.

It was awkward trying to explain all this to my family that night. They knew I was upset and all tried to talk to me about it. It was hard for them to understand that I would be angry about this. They felt sorry for upsetting me and begged me to eat with them, but I refused. It was the first time in my 18 months in Micronesia that I deliberately disrespected the culture. I felt slightly guilty, but in this case I felt that sticking to my morals outweighed the importance of following local custom.

I did cheat a little bit though on my fast. I found a leftover beer stashed in a plastic bag and chugged that down by myself. A little bit of hops and yeast to fill my belly wouldn’t do disgrace the memory of my beloved dog.