3/22/11 Zombie Day

[* I wrote this post after the big earth quake in Japan. There were communication issues afterward with the tsunami warning, and I was potentially facing another transfer for safety reasons. Hence the unhappiness in this one. Transfer didn't happen, but this was a turning point in my time on Houk. More on what came next later.]

Spent yesterday in a light-headed, mind-clouding, hangover-esque stupor. Thought listing my stressors might help but can't tell if it did. The full weight of possibly being transferred fell on me, and I had a zombie day: able to walk, make sounds and eat, but not much else.

I told Cos about what's going on. He agreed to check with the municipal office (yes we have something like that, no it's nowhere near as fancy or organized as it sounds) to see if I could monitor their radio in the evenings. Emi, the Safety Coordinator, said the decision to close Houk might already be made based on the information at hand as of our phone call yesterday, but if not, I think the Municipal's willingness or lack thereof will make the difference. Either the community is going to support PCVs or they're not.

After talking with Cos, I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or vomit or both, but the feeling has lingered and the food I've been eating isn't helping with the middle possibility. Our number two chief is on island (ie, the second oldest brother in the high chief family - the three oldest brothers all live off island most the time) so my family threw a party for him: slaughter and cook a pig, prepare plenty of rice, taro, breadfruit and doughnuts, burn through most the soy sauce, coffee and sugar with half the island over. I like these gatherings, but the timing wasn't great.

There's the warm-up meal at lunch, before which most the prep work is done. Then there's the full on meal at dinner - more people and a couple more dishes but mostly the same food again. Local pig is VERY fatty, I'm talking morbid obesity: take out the bones and these creatures are probably 60-70% fat. You've never seen so much fat in such large slabs cooked rare. I'll try and take a photo next time, because my words don't do it justice. Anyhow, it's a departure from fish and taro and bananas. I've been feeling the difference.

So, sitting there - alone - after I was done eating my meal (people have a tendency of vacating my vicinity during these shindigs), I must have looked pretty pathetic. Slumped shoulders, bowed and tilted head, slightly pained look - like a pressure being exerted on the top of my head was slowly and steadily increasing. I don't know if Enola (5 year-old host sister) noticed this look or was just bored and wanting for a playmate, but she came over right when I needed some human contact more than I have in a long time, a looooooong time. Micronesians are very hands off and tight-lipped when it comes to shows of affection, with the exception of their very young children for whom they seem to save it all - oh, and big goodbyes, those can get down right mushy. So an occasional handshake is the most I've seen in a couple months, save for the funny squish-face Rose (host mom) and a couple other women on island make at me every now and then. Well I just about squeezed the stuffing out of Enola, and she loved it demanding, "Paliou! Paliou! Paliou!" (Again! Again! Again!) and so did I. Our game was her climbing into my lap, laying down in my arms, and me folding her in half, wrapping her up and shaking wildly and making noises we Americans do when playing with kids, but Micronesians do not. She tells me to wait, dismounts and climbs back up before saying the magic word, "paliou" starting the game all over. Now I must have looked just a shade passed insane. Then I taught her and Johnson (one of my first-graders and literally John's son) how to 'hit the rock and explode' (fist bump greeting). So they'll be down to roll the streets if they ever end up in the Boise hood.

I felt better for a bit after that, but a peculiar thing about the looming site transfer is that nothing really makes me feel solely good. Everything just gets cast or amplified in a negative light. Difficult or frustrating things are worse because I'm already short on patience and because they make the possibility of staying seem almost futile, like no matter what's decided, things are going to be shitty. Good and relieving and heart-warming things are bitter-sweet, take me up and right back down, because there's just one more thing I might lose. Progressing or stalling out with co-teachers, closer or more distant with host family/community, sunshine or rain, full night of sleep or awoken twice by Janessa crying and screaming (not that we've had a full night in the last couple weeks), it all just brings me down in the end, lately anyway.

I guess I'm getting training in putting on a brave face, in not giving up even when it seems a losing effort, in finding peace amid turmoil, joy amid sadness. I can recognize I should be grateful for the life lessons, but this rainy morning, eyes faintly stinging with encroaching tears, I'm just not there yet.