Travels with Pete Pete is the young man (young to me—probably mid-30’s) who has been driving me each week from the high school in Kolonia to the two high schools that are located on the east and west side of the island, about an hour each way. I may be off base, but I would characterize him as typical of his age group in Pohnpei—a middle class Micronesian Millennial. He lives with his extended family in a loosely defined village in the Pohnpei province of “U,” probably 10-15 miles from the capital. He is married with three children, the oldest just started college at the College of Micronesia on the island; the younger two are in 6th and 1st grade respectively. He works as a school bus driver for PICS High School; his wife works at a grocery store. He has two dogs, three pigs, and about 20 chickens. Chickens, by the way, are everywhere, in town and out. They run loose, frequently crossing the road (reminding me of all those “why did the chicken cross the road jokes”). According to Pete they are pretty smart, coming home to roost every night. He tells me they are very good to eat, much better than the processed chicken I can buy in the stores. He’s promised to bring me some, “if he’s not too busy.”
Pete’s a pretty good story teller, with passable English, although pronunciation is a problem given the ever-present wad of betel nut in his cheek. He drives with the window open so that he can periodically spit red juice out the window. His aunt just died last week at age 60. They had the typical big funeral celebration. I asked him what they ate and he said that everyone brought dishes to pass and lots of chicken. Before getting his job as a bus driver, he was a fisherman and he still likes to fish in the lagoon on weekends. He is like males the world over. The other day he shook his head sadly and said his wife works too hard, getting up very early to prepare breakfasts, lunches, etc. for the family. But, he said, she never complains. He asked her if he could help—her response was no. I sense that rather than just get up and help, he took her at her word and rolled over and went back to sleep.
Last week he was proud of the fact that he had surprised his wife by buying her a cell phone with which she can keep tabs on her cousins and children.While they do not have a computer or Wi-Fi in their house, his wife is on Facebook at work, connecting with her “cousins,” which I am beginning to realize refers to most any relative, however distant. She has cousins in Guam, Hawaii, and Tennessee. So, here is a family that in many ways lives a very traditional life—surrounded by extended family, living in the country on land owned by the family for generations, taking part in traditional celebrations, and speaking their native language. But, at the same time, both he and his wife speak English and have taken jobs in a money-based economy so that they can buy those things that are now valued like western clothes, cell phones, computers, and college for their children. The transition to western ways is probably inevitable, but not without costs. Witness the following:
A culture in transition Just yesterday I received a report from a meeting that took place in Pohnpei’s Department of Education. The Department of late is concerned that students are losing their Pohnpeian culture. In describing this meeting, our Peace Corps Response Director wrote the following: “Anecdotally, the Pohnpeians with the best English have the best jobs--but even in our own Peace Corps office, local staff who learned English in school and never received Pohnpeian language rules have advised that they feel somewhat alienated from their own culture. Hence, the development this year of the Pohnpei Studies curriculum (to be enacted as a core class) and the upcoming Pohnpei Language Arts curriculum.” So, on the one hand we are told that the education system must provide Pohnpeians with the skills necessary to compete in a globalized world. As an example, all high school classes must be taught in English. On the other hand, there is a push to ensure that children also retain their culture. Watching the younger generation high school students—their clothes and interactions—I’m not sure I would bet on the Pohnpeian culture holding sway.
Casual; very, very casual Soon after I arrived on Pohnpei, I met with the Peace Corps Country Director who said, “Around here, it’s Mañana x 3.” Now that I’ve been here for a few weeks, I can identify with that. For better or worse, Pohnpeians seem to take a much more casual attitude toward situations that would upset some of us more “up tight” types. Some examples:
Pete’s a pretty good story teller, with passable English, although pronunciation is a problem given the ever-present wad of betel nut in his cheek. He drives with the window open so that he can periodically spit red juice out the window. His aunt just died last week at age 60. They had the typical big funeral celebration. I asked him what they ate and he said that everyone brought dishes to pass and lots of chicken. Before getting his job as a bus driver, he was a fisherman and he still likes to fish in the lagoon on weekends. He is like males the world over. The other day he shook his head sadly and said his wife works too hard, getting up very early to prepare breakfasts, lunches, etc. for the family. But, he said, she never complains. He asked her if he could help—her response was no. I sense that rather than just get up and help, he took her at her word and rolled over and went back to sleep.
Last week he was proud of the fact that he had surprised his wife by buying her a cell phone with which she can keep tabs on her cousins and children.While they do not have a computer or Wi-Fi in their house, his wife is on Facebook at work, connecting with her “cousins,” which I am beginning to realize refers to most any relative, however distant. She has cousins in Guam, Hawaii, and Tennessee. So, here is a family that in many ways lives a very traditional life—surrounded by extended family, living in the country on land owned by the family for generations, taking part in traditional celebrations, and speaking their native language. But, at the same time, both he and his wife speak English and have taken jobs in a money-based economy so that they can buy those things that are now valued like western clothes, cell phones, computers, and college for their children. The transition to western ways is probably inevitable, but not without costs. Witness the following:
A culture in transition Just yesterday I received a report from a meeting that took place in Pohnpei’s Department of Education. The Department of late is concerned that students are losing their Pohnpeian culture. In describing this meeting, our Peace Corps Response Director wrote the following: “Anecdotally, the Pohnpeians with the best English have the best jobs--but even in our own Peace Corps office, local staff who learned English in school and never received Pohnpeian language rules have advised that they feel somewhat alienated from their own culture. Hence, the development this year of the Pohnpei Studies curriculum (to be enacted as a core class) and the upcoming Pohnpei Language Arts curriculum.” So, on the one hand we are told that the education system must provide Pohnpeians with the skills necessary to compete in a globalized world. As an example, all high school classes must be taught in English. On the other hand, there is a push to ensure that children also retain their culture. Watching the younger generation high school students—their clothes and interactions—I’m not sure I would bet on the Pohnpeian culture holding sway.
Casual; very, very casual Soon after I arrived on Pohnpei, I met with the Peace Corps Country Director who said, “Around here, it’s Mañana x 3.” Now that I’ve been here for a few weeks, I can identify with that. For better or worse, Pohnpeians seem to take a much more casual attitude toward situations that would upset some of us more “up tight” types. Some examples:
- Last week the power suddenly went off at the school’s main office building. Electricity is provided through a system called “cash power.” You pay in advance for a certain number of power units. When you have used those up, the power goes off. No one kept track of the units remaining, the power went off, and all work ceased in the offices—no lights, no computers, no air conditioning for a half-day until someone got around to paying for more power.
- On our way to Madolenihmw H.S. the other day my driver Pete pointed out the bus he uses to transport kids sitting on the side of the road about 10 miles from school. It had been there since the day before, when Pete had to stop because of a problem with the gas pedal. The next day I passed by the bus—still in the same place.
- I had arranged with a principal for me to meet with his teachers for a short 20 minute faculty meeting after school. Rather than have his teachers stay after school, he cancelled all afternoon classes and sent the kids home so that the faculty could meet at 1 p.m.
- Last week one of the Department of Education dignitaries attended a school’s field day in celebration of a local holiday. After the afternoon track meet, this official cancelled all K-12 classes in that province for the following day, expressing the fact that the athletes were probably tired and needed a day of rest.
Two wheels? Since arriving and traveling all around the island I have seen only one bicycle—ridden by a 10 year old. Similarly, I’ve only seen one small cc. motorcycle (I was with Pete at the time—his response was that the rider must be a Filipino; they are the only ones with motorcycles). Interestingly, they have a big barn on the campus of Madolenihmw H.S. used by the vocational department. There are about 25 brand new adult bicycles lined up inside—never been ridden. Apparently, some American volunteer teacher/coach got a grant for the bikes a couple of years ago; the bikes to be used by his basketball team for conditioning and as a means for the students to get to and from school for practice. He got the grant, but the bikes were not delivered until after he left the island. So, there they sit, unused. I miss my BMW R90/6, but I’m apparently the only one on the island who would even think to want it—except, perhaps for a Filipino or two....
Food Cooking for one, with a one burner hotplate and no oven is not only a challenge, it’s just not much fun. But, I survive. One of my friends who lives with a family in Kitti province has provided me with some native foods, which have been interesting—papaya, breadfruit, taro. I had the breadfruit last night. Chopped and fried with some spices, it was pretty good—sort of like French fries. There is a sushi place around the corner that has great sushi and sashimi, but it is only sporadically open. The most interesting food encounter occurred last week at Madolenihmw H.S. The principal and assistant principal bring in food each day which is prepared by the kitchen staff for them at noontime (apparently an administrative perk). They invited me to lunch. So, I put away my orange and granola bar and ate with them. They had big containers of two different kinds of rice, big chunks of chicken and pork, still on the bones, large pieces of raw fish and a Pohnpeian hot sauce. Smiling (and watching my reaction) the Principal said, “This is the way traditional Pohnpeians eat.” There was no silverware, plates, or napkins—just dig in with your fingers. Try eating rice with your fingers some time. Not easy, but I held my own. Given their bulk, these guys eat with gusto every day.
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