New Years ( Bangin’ Pots & Bloody Guts)

To celebrate the coming of a new decade, we decided to slaughter a pig. This particular porker was a hairy black middle-aged animal. He wasn’t too large, however he had a ginormous tumor on his front leg and his time had come. I missed the execution preparation, but I arrived just in time to see the death blow. Two men were holding the pig and another struck him in the heart with a sharp knife. At first it appeared that he stabbed him in the throat, but actually it was a precise slice directly into the heart. The pig slumped down and died immediately as blood squirted out of his punctured chest.

His leg with the tumor was hacked off and thrown into the bushes, where the dogs greedily fought over its throbbing flesh. Within a minute of the heart stab, the dead pig was carried away from the killing floor to the outdoor cookhouse. We set up a butcher table on the ground made of tin roofing covered with banana leaves. The next step was to de-hair the little swine and get him ready for chopping. We had boiled a large pot of water to help with the process. The hot water was poured on the carcass at appropriate increments to make the hair detach easier. Two men tore its hair off with short quick knife scruffs as if they were scraping old paint off a wall. I was quite surprised to see how easily the hair seemed to slide off the pig and expose its smooth pink skin.

The next step was to delve into the intestinal depths of the slain beast. An incision was made near crotch and continued up through the rib cage. A spurt of warm blood splattered on the man’s face as he exposed the guts of the animal. He was unfazed and didn’t even stop to wipe the dripping blood off. He gouged the inside of the belly and tore out chunks of the innards. He was quite adept and pulled out the guts with surgical precision as one large blob of bloody gelatinous slop. As the pile of slimy intestines lay on the banana leaf table, I did my best to identify each of the digestive parts. Its been a while since I studied the excretory system, however I was successful in pointing out the liver, gallbladder (I think), kidneys, stomach, large & small intestines, as well as the testicles and other reproductive junk. The testes and gall bladder were discarded to the canines, but the rest was saved for the soup. We had another huge pot of water boiling on the open fire to throw the pieces of flesh. The intestines were the first lucky swimmers in the steaming pot of death. Also, the empty stomach cavity contained a large pool of bubbling blood that was scooped out and put into a different pot.

Now that the pig was officially gutted, it was time for the dismemberment. The throat was sliced and the lifeless head of the little animal flopped backwards as the last of the blood seeped out from the edges. One of the little boys giggled, because it made a juicy squishy noise as he stuck his finger down the severed esophagus of the pig. The head was tossed into the pot and we moved onto the limbs. One of the front legs was already gone because of the tumor, so the butcher only had to take off three legs. Each of the limbs was separated from the carcass and then the core of the body was divided into three small sections. Every single part of the pig was boiled in one pot together except the gallbladder, tumor, tail, and the pigs special twig & berries.

Over the next hour, we periodically took out parts of the pigs and chopped them up for the next stage of preparation. The less desirous pieces (intestines and other junk) were chopped into small pieces and put in a pot. Eventually this pot would be filled with water, soy sauce, garlic, onions, salt and the bowl of pigs blood. It turned out to be a brownish maroon colored pork soup that burst with tasty flavor. I think it was the blood that gave it the extra special kick.

The other pieces were sliced into 4 inch chunks, except for the bones and ribs that were already it nice manageable sizes. The pieces were then cooked in a large wok style pan over an open flame. The wok was full of soy sauce, sugar, salt, garlic and onions. It took about 5 or 6 rotations of pieces before all of it was cooked. Then the head was thrown in to simmer as the night wore on. This method of cooking was extremely successful and made the pork succulent and delicious. It was by far my favorite way that I have eaten pig over here, and most probably my favorite way of ever eating pig. We grubbed the meat in a big circle of men that gathered around inside the cookhouse. Everyone eats from a common plate with their hands, everybody scoops pieces of meat up into their mouths along with handfuls of pounded breadfruit.

The killing and cooking process took about 5 hours and it was dark by the time that we started to eat. We continued our cookout and grilled about 40 pieces of chicken on the fire. We also communally ate the chicken as it came off the grill, but the majority of the meat was saved for later. When an animal is slaughtered or a feast is prepared, the food is spread all around the community. The meat was shared with neighbors and friends that night and all the meat of the pig would be eaten within 24 hours.

After we chowed Chuukese style, we moved on to the next phase of new years celebration. Drinking. Although drinking is often seen as taboo in Micronesia, exceptions are made for new years. Just like in America, New Years is a time when the booze flows and emotions run sky high. This night we decided to stay away from the 151 rum and stick with the local alcohol of choice. Its simply called “yeast”

Yeast is a pretty good name for the drink, because that is basically what it is. One bag of yeast, two bags of sugar and a paint bucket of water. It is mixed together and allowed to sit for anywhere between 5-20 hours. The ratio of sugar to yeast can be varied slightly to adjust for taste and alcohol content. The proof of this alcohol is stronger than beer but not as strong as liquor. It probably hovers between 15-20% pure alcohol content, which puts it in the range of most hearty wines.

Due to the simple ingredients of yeast and sugar, the substance becomes a milky white liquid with interspersed chunks of soggy bready crumbs at the bottom. It looks like spoiled milk. Which is ironic because it also tastes like spoiled milk. It is sour and bitter but has a tint of sugary goodness. The standard method to imbibe this local specialty is in a large circle of men. One man, often the chef that procured the concoction, will scoop servings for each person and disperse them as he sees fit. Usually a coffee cup is filled halfway up and each person is expected to swig it in one sip. Its like a giant shot of rotten ice cream that has been sitting in the sun for a few days. In my time I have pounded my fair share of beer and booze, so despite the unpleasant taste I was able to keep up with the boys. Actually, the taste did grow on me and I actually slightly enjoyed it for a moment.

I sat around the smoldering coals of the pig fire and munched on remains of meat as we downed the bucket of yeast. There were about 15 Chuukese men and one little white guy in a pow wow circle bringing in the new year. It was far different than my usual drinking circle of friends back in America, nonetheless I enjoyed it for its unique ambiance and style. We finished the yeasty pot of firewater around 9pm and still had a while to go until the clock struck 12. At this point, the group was unexpectedly plastered and began to scatter off into the dark. Unfortunately, a fight broke out between a couple of the guys and the night took a turn for the worse. The mood was ruined for many of the guys and it put a damper on the festivities for all us. However, I followed a few guys that decided that it was an appropriate time for a change of venue. We wandered down the pathway and stumbled upon another smaller circle of yeast drinkers. We proceeded to sip on yeast at a slower pace now and await the midnight celebration.

There are no TV’s on Fefan so Dick Clark wasn’t there to lead us in a countdown as we watched the ball drop on time square. To add to the confusion, no two clocks in Chuuk ever tell the same time. Some are slow, some are fast, some just don’t work at all. People often wear watches, but they are simply style statements and serve no apparent function. (I will have an extended rant on the concept of time during some other blog). My point is that nobody actually knew exactly when midnight hit. But at sometime around the beginning of 2011 a loud banging on the church bells echoed through the seaside village. We shook hands and acknowledged the new year, but I didn’t hear any elated screams, spontaneous kisses, or fanatic shouts. After the bells, silence fell again upon the night and all we could hear was the chirping miniature violins of the crickets. And then it began…….

It started slow at first, a slight murmur of sound far in the distance. Then it got louder, I could hear the faint hollers of young voices and the rhythmic clank of metal objects. Then it got louder! Coming around the bend of the road I heard a mob of youngsters marching down the path. They were making a raucous, booming, bellowing noise that reverberated off the top of every tree and the bottom of every rock. Dozens of kids, almost everyone in the village, were in the group parading down the path at midnight. The kids were all equipped with some sort of sound making device. Pots, pans, plates, jugs, buckets, gas cans, bottles and all kinds of random objects were being pounded on with sticks, forks, spoons and rocks. A few of the older kids in front would scream a chant in Chuukese and all the followers would echo “Happy New Year” and bang on their drums “bum buda bum buda bum bum bum”. These call and response yells would change from time to time, but would usually end in harmonious roars of “Happy New Year” or “Abbe Nuu Eer” with the Chuukese accent.

As I heard this monstrosity of noise pass by, I hopped up from my drinking circle and ran to go join party. I had been warned that something of this nature was going to take place. People had told me to buy candy just in case. The real purpose behind the midnight parade of noisemakers was to receive candy. They hope to awake all the people in surrounding houses and receive sugary treats as payment for their clink clanking of pots. I approached the crowd of kids and when they saw me coming they slowed their marching band, they all looked at me with curious eyes. I knew what they were curious about. I pulled out small candies from my backpack and threw them into crowd. The kids screamed with joy and immediately surrounded me with outstretched hands and eager cries of hunger. I was amidst a sea of senseless screamers and just threw my candy into the air. After I exhausted the majority of my candy supply, I joined the procession and marched along with the amateur orchestra of homemade kitchen instruments.

We skipped and bounced down to the shoreline and then danced by the beach before turning back and parading back up the path. Along the way, I was handed a large silver platter and a serving spoon as my drum. I banged my plate and screamed those lyrics with all my heart, but my sound was still lost in the crazy noise that surrounded me. We went up and down the path about 4 times, dancing and singing the whole time. When we would get to the dock, some people would sit to relax and others would hop around with jubilation. I threw out the rest of my candy periodically and wandered with the group until about 4am. The noise subsided and I finally collapsed into my bed a few minutes before sunrise.

My New Years day was not spent idly watching college football and lounging on a couch. However, I still had the familiar January 1 feeling of exhaustion, dehydration and nausea. The biggest problem with drinking yeast is that yeast is a living creature. When it goes in your stomach, it often continues to grow. The whole next day I had a belly of gurgling jolts as a loaf of bread was rising in my stomach. I relaxed around the house throughout the day and listened to the passing children. O yes, the kids were still marching. They took a break from about 4am-9am. But right after breakfast, they began the candy grubbing adventures. The banging of pots and the high pitch screams of young children awoke me that morning. The parade of kids went on for the entire day. They would walk to the dock, turn around, and go back up to the end of town. They continued this cycle until sunset, making the same amount of noise the entire time. Although I became slightly annoyed by the persistent cacophony of metal clanks, I have to say that I was impressed with the consistency and dedication of these kids to continue their antics at such an intense pace.

Well, this concludes my first holiday chronicles in Micronesia. Christmas and New Year’s were nothing like American holidays, however I came to appreciate the unique traditions and celebrations that take place over here. I enjoyed the festivities and learned a lot about Chuukese culture in the process.

Considering that this was New Years and I experienced a lot of drunkards, I think that this is the most appropriate time to transition into a description of alcohol consumption in Chuuk.