Andy Buth

11/1 Andy Buth
In the second week of April, the Caroline Voyager arrived at Woleai. Unusual for two reasons, one being that the Yap State ship, the Hapilmahol, had just been through, the other that it, the Voyager, brought with it a young American man planning to make Falalap his new home. 
His name was Andy Buth. My site mate, Gita knew Andy from her home state, Florida. Their families had long been friends, and in the year prior to joining Peace Corps in the Pacific, she and Andy had grown closer. 
He had always dreamed of living in the Pacific for a time, and with Gita already there and thriving, the time seemed ripe to take action. Andy arranged things at home, bought a plane ticket, which very fortunately landed him in Yap the day before the Voyager departed, and spent all but his last nine dollars on the fee to Woleai. 
They got to Woleai on a Friday evening, and Gita - who was totally shocked by Andy's arrival - told me the news Saturday morning. I first saw Andy coming up from the beach by the church square. Tall and slender, deeply tan with shoulder length blonde hair and a beard twice as burly as mine... and nipple rings. He was wearing a pair of fatigue cargo shorts and had a tattoo on his forearm. I could tell he was thrilled to be there and his eyes shone with excitement and intensity. 
The three of us - Andy, Gita and I - hung out a little that day and I heard a bit of Andy's back story from him. Gita had already talked to me about Andy, as he had expressed interest in visiting (by way of cargo ship ALL the way from the US) and had also sent Gita about a hundred and twenty pounds of school materials, most of which arrived on the Hapilmahol a couple weeks before him. 
I gave them some space for the next couple of weeks, after introducing Andy to one of the chiefs (he needed to pay a five dollar landing fee & get clearance to stay on island), so Andy could settle in and they could catch up. After that I became a regular fixture at their families compound - Gita's host family let Andy bunk with the high school boys they sponsored. 
I learned somethings about Andy quickly, while others came out over time. He'd lived in Montana and Alaska doing all kinds of different stuff - from working in a mill to managing a chocolate factory - his strongest personal ties were to his immediate family (his tattoo is a geometric design incorporating the first letter of his own and his brother's and sister's names), and he was a great lover of the outdoors, hunting and exploring. He was a believer and not just religiously, though a devote Christian. Andy believed in living life broadly, experiencing as much as one could. He believed learning never stopped and was in no way limited to the classroom setting. He hated limitations, especially his own, which he worked tirelessly to rid himself of. Everywhere he went, he picked up skills. And every skill gathered was one more to share with his family. Andy believed in belief, in the power of the act to change your life. 
Having Andy on Falalap was excellent. Finally having another dude to chat and share the experience of being a Western man in the islands with gave a fullness to being there that I couldn't have gotten any other way. Beyond that, it was clear Andy was more than just another white guy. Even though we differed pretty majorly when it came to certain ideological things (like religion) we really connected through our view of the world, the drive to check it out, meet people and bring it/them home. We both loved Woleai. And we just plain enjoyed hanging out together, shooting the breeze, joking around, telling stories from our pasts. It's always a good sign when you can sit around, nothing to do and come up with something simple that gets you laughing. One time, outside the unfinished house where Andy and the high school boys slept, we're lazing about and start to play with some dice. Simple game, predict the total of the five dice before throwing, whoever is closer to their toss' actual total wins. Reminded me of kicking it with the fellas. Comfortable, fun and a little goofy. 
Andy's example was inspiring for me. That he came from the States, on his own, to live in Woleai and do pretty much the same stuff as me, the Peace Corps Volunteer, was so cool. He did it totally on his own dollar, and it took all but his last four. 
I wouldn't say I was totally dependent on the Peace Corps. I think I would have found a way to get abroad and try to put my education into practice, even if they wouldn't take me. But he really did it, solo. Made me really consider all options when I was transferred. Also made me more than just a little jealous of him, b/c I didn't want to leave Woleai for training, let alone be reassigned to another island. 
Before we PCVs left for training, Andy came to the high school one day to give a talk to the freshmen, describing his past several years traveling around the US and how he ended up in Woleai. I wanted to hear more about it and he was keen on having me there to signal when he needed to slow down/ simplify his words for the students, so I sat in on it. Taking notes, I ended up with a bulleted list of five or six years of Andy's life. 

Andy's Story:
-Moved from FL to MT (2 years)
  -In MT: 1st worked hotel, then assisted guided-tourist hunting trips, mill work (winter), and landscaping (summer)
  *He told me about hanging out with the hunting guys, sitting around a campfire, spitting and sharpening knives, which the men's circles in Woleai reminded him of
-Drove a motorcycle XC back to Florida
  -Did landscaping for his mom (laying stone)
-Moved to HI, worked on a farm (6 mo.)
  -Picked produce, sold @ farmers' market
  -Learned about plant varieties
  -Took home seeds for his mom
-While back in FL, went to vocational school to be an EMT (wanted to understand paramedic brother better)
  -Worked a while & left for Alaska
-Lived on Sitka Island in Alaska
  -Stayed in his tent, tons of bears on the island
  -Got a job @ chocolate factory (Theobroma)
     -Lots of employee theft (Andy called them on it & they quit)
     -Andy became manager, bought a boat to live on
        -Fishermen very generous w/food & drink
        *told me about winter on the boat & icicles forming on the ceiling above where he slept-so cold
     -In winter, took second job at local pool
        -Lifeguard, chemist & caretaker (1 year+)
        *told me about playing water polo w/para-rescue Coast Guard guys
-Sister won 'dream come true' contest - wanted to learn to be a helicopter pilot
   -went home, Mom's house wrecked in hurricane
   -helped rebuild
-Quit drinking ('hurt' his sister when drunk)
   -opened up awareness of his own dreams
   -decided to come to Woleai
   *told me he'd wanted to come to the Pacific for a long time & hearing about Gita's experience inspired him to try out life on the island

There's not much meat on those bones, and I wish I were a better note taker, b/c there's just the facts here & little of the feeling of his talk. Andy exuded excitement for his travels, work experience, friends made and how he was able to give back to his family through the skills he picked up along the way. Humble but confident about his own abilities and incredibly proud of his siblings and their accomplishments. It was a cool talk, the students really enjoyed it. 
When I got back to Woleai in July, after training and on my way to Houk, I got to spend a week and a half there before moving on. Andy and I hung out each morning, having a cup of coffee and a chat (a couple cigarettes for him as well). Topics ranged from funny stories of our past, to faith, to the growth we'd experienced as people and men in recent years, to how special the Pacific Islands and our time among them are. And we even shaved off our beards one morning after agreeing they'd become more of a nuisance than they were worth.
We really solidified the bond between us during that week-plus. Gita not being there (she'd already moved to her new site, Fais) wasn't awesome, of course, but the upside was that Andy & I got to see that our friendship was more than just the 'friend-of-a-friend' variety. Coffee mornings lasted to noon time; many afternoons we joined in the same village activities (fishing, etc.); evenings at the men's circle, and late evenings with a smaller group sneaking extra faluba at my house. [Drinking isn't kosher, strictly speaking, away from the men's house.] We could tell we'd be buddies for years to come, and were already planning for a post-Peace Corps backpacking trip before I left. 
My final morning in Woleai was a booze-fest, a traditional send off activity for the island. Andy, my host brother Marty, and our buddies Sammy & Xavier had stayed up most the night brewing yeast to compliment our faluba stores. The main goal was to get me as drunk as possible before leaving. They succeeded. 
Andy gave me a knife he'd received from a good friend during his travels, a badass, burly knife made from a ground down railroad tie and roughly carved chunks from a marble counter top. Marty took me out to the patrol boat that was to take me to Houk, and I spent a good ten minutes screaming out my love for Woleai and my village, Iyeiuriu, before Andy swam out for a final good-bye. I jumped from the bow, seemed the thing to do, we bro hugged (the handclasp and one armed back slap, you know) and looked forward to the next time our paths would cross. Then I swam to the rear of the boat and, with some assistance, dragged myself back on-board, vomited and headed straight to bed. 
Looking back, I'm so glad I jumped off that boat. Last Thursday I called my Peace Corps supervisor, Imaou, to talk about when I'll go back to Weno before the next training event. He told me Andy had drowned recently while spear fishing in Fais, where he'd moved to be with Gita. Alternating feelings of hollowness in my chest, the sensation of being punched in the stomach, complete disbelief that he could possibly be dead, and waves of horrible understanding that he's gone - that I'll never see him again - swirl through my days. And above all, my heart aches for his family and for Gita, and I wish I could be there for her as she mourns the loss of her dear friend.
Andy will be, perhaps has already been buried on Fais. His family came out for the funeral, and (I would guess) to collect certain of his possessions. My former supervisor, Regina, told me so when I confirmed the news with her. She also said that Gita would spend the month of November at home, then return for our mid-service training in December. 
It's the most trapped and helpless I've felt in Peace Corps. Figuring out what to do to reach out to Gita, how to honor Andy's memory and just to accept what's happened are questions I'm still struggling with. Answers aren't coming quickly. I just know I need to hang in here, do my job, not shut out everyone around me and always be so grateful I was lucky enough to know and be befriended by Andy Buth.