It hasn't entirely hit me yet that I will be spending the next year (July 2009- May 2010), on an island that is over 5,000 miles away from home. This island is less than 50 square miles, has a declining population of 7,000, and is connected to the outside world by only 3 flights per week. In other words, it is like no place I have ever been to before.
Kosrae island is part of the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). It's right in between Hawaii and New Zealand. The FSM is a collection of islands divided into four regions: Yap, Chuuk, Pohnpei, and Kosrae. It's fairly close to the equator, and the island does radiate many qualities that are typical snapshots of tropical island life. It's beautiful, "ringed by sandy beaches and pristine coral reefs," maintains a slow pace of life, and breadfruit, coconuts, and yams abound. However, that idyllic image is quickly altered by this place having one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and on the rise are other social problems like depression, alcoholism, and joblessness. There are issues like changing family structures, a dwindling population, and excessive foreign dependency that their leaders are currently tackling. While these islands are in a state of limbo about their future, one thing is clear: this place is on the brink of change.
Although during college I did develop an affinity for warm weather and attractive places while studying abroad in Southeast Asia, those factors cannot be further from why I chose to return, again, to the tropics. And on that note, I'm not as many may suspect and some mentioned, "taking a year off to mess around before getting serious." I find those comments rather insulting and a little ridiculous, considering the support I've always lent to their particular endeavors. While Southeast Asia WAS fun, a sizable amount of it was the polar opposite. Some images have a difficult time leaving my thoughts, like the legless boy begging in a street gutter, girls half my age pole-dancing in seedy bars, unwashed physician instruments strewn about on a decaying wooden table, children using a polluted street flood as a swimming pool, and an entire tribal community transformed into a human zoo for tourist dollars. Exotic cuisines may start to pale and stunning landscapes may eventually blur, but heartbreaking memories like the aforementioned remain vivid for a long time after. And for some, myself included, are forever changed.
I've long been fixated on the idea of deceiving perfection. Perhaps that is why several of my favorite books, movies, and television shows (Great Gatsby, American Beauty, Better Luck Tomorrow, Desperate Housewives [I know you're judging]) all contain themes of perceived success and perfection, with reality being otherwise. And perhaps, unfortunately, this theme has begun to ring true with some aspects of my own life as well. What is the point of things looking good, if an empty abyss lies behind it? Does inspiration come solely from pretty surfaces and gleaming facades? I choose not to think so, and ultimately not to act accordingly. Specifically, how can we move forward in humanity if we do not take the time to see, hear, feel, and taste what is really underneath the surface?
Undoubtedly, real beauty and the answers we seek can be found all around us, but I'm ready to venture out. I expect that life on a developing island will be pretty much the opposite of the Target-going, Starbucks addicted, suburban jungle I currently call home and like quite a bit. Kosrae is, in my humble opinion, an incredible opportunity to live, breath, and see what my college roommate so beautifully wrote, "faith, hope, and love." Especially in a region like Micronesia; so forgotten, but so critical. Really, what is not to gain but the world?
