This initiative to fire up the blog again has been sparked by a visit to a fellow volunteer’s blog earlier tonight. I have less than 3 months left in Kosrae, year 1.
Over the past 7 months, it would be fair to say that a lot has happened for me on this pretty little island. I’ve seen more nature, logged more biking miles, and swallowed more salt water than I have in the past 23 years of living.
Perusing through other volunteer blogs and learning about all the great things that are happening around the world is inspiring, but causes me to second guess my own experience as a volunteer. Aside from making an adventure hungry 20-something like myself want to jump on a plane to whatever remote destination, I will admit that blog reading had previously playing a role in shaping my expectations of volunteering.
The incorrect trajectory went something along the lines of this: Apply for program -> Make a blog -> Post picture of oneself wearing local garb posed with naked children smiling at the camera -> have everyday be awesome, amazing, and life changing -> come back with hair in dreads preaching about the dire effects of western centric foreign policy and have a big enough adventure to write a book.
I’ll just tell you right now that I have zero pictures of me with any naked children, my hair is not in dreads, and I think any recent grad who wants to have a published memoir sitting on a Barnes & Noble shelf after 10 months of international volunteering is silly in this global age. It just doesn’t work that way. Here are some other things I’ve learned, or rather was reminded of, while being a volunteer.
Lesson #1: If the school didn’t have problems, then it wouldn’t need volunteers.
Lesson #2: Not getting paid does not equate to working fewer hours.
Lesson #3: Being inexperienced in the States will not make one more experienced in a foreign country.
Lesson #4: Organizational politics don’t go away, even in faraway places.
Lesson #5: Teenagers will be teenagers anywhere on the globe.
I feel really lucky to be in Kosrae. I don’t function at the constant level of spectacular, but the time spent here is unlike any other time in my life.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Tsunami warning
This week marks the end of quarter 1. Students are quietly completing their English final assignments lost in a swirl of thoughts, and scribbling madly in transcribing them to readable form.
I am in the front of my classroom, thinking about what is for lunch while the students are working. Everything is going swimmingly, but then another student peeps his head inside my classroom and mutters something in Kosrean, their native tongue. Immediately, pencils are dropped and backpacks are gathered, and my students are literally fleeing the classroom. I peer outside the classroom, and my students have apparently joined in on a mass exodus as they leap onto the departing buses. Half finished final assignments lay about the room; some have already been blown onto the floor by the slight breeze.
By this point, I am no longer angry, but confused. Finally, I hear the English translation of what is going on:
“TSUNAMI WARNING!! TSUNAMI WARNING!! RUN FOR THE HILLS!!”
There WOULD be a tsunami warning on Kosrae during finals. Some places have snow days, we have tsunami days, where everyone makes a break for higher ground and prays that the huge moving water mass (started from an earthquake around neighboring islands) does not reach Kosrae and engulf the beach front homes. Lunch looks like a no go. Like the last time this happened, I start contemplating what to bring for my own clamor up the hill.
I am in the front of my classroom, thinking about what is for lunch while the students are working. Everything is going swimmingly, but then another student peeps his head inside my classroom and mutters something in Kosrean, their native tongue. Immediately, pencils are dropped and backpacks are gathered, and my students are literally fleeing the classroom. I peer outside the classroom, and my students have apparently joined in on a mass exodus as they leap onto the departing buses. Half finished final assignments lay about the room; some have already been blown onto the floor by the slight breeze.
By this point, I am no longer angry, but confused. Finally, I hear the English translation of what is going on:
“TSUNAMI WARNING!! TSUNAMI WARNING!! RUN FOR THE HILLS!!”
There WOULD be a tsunami warning on Kosrae during finals. Some places have snow days, we have tsunami days, where everyone makes a break for higher ground and prays that the huge moving water mass (started from an earthquake around neighboring islands) does not reach Kosrae and engulf the beach front homes. Lunch looks like a no go. Like the last time this happened, I start contemplating what to bring for my own clamor up the hill.
Friday, September 18, 2009
teenage musings in Kosrae
Recently, my students read a story about first dates. We may be on an island in the middle of ocean, but these quickwrite responses show we’re not too far from any typical high schooler in the States. Oh to be young.
On being stood up and feeling insecure:
“Me myself, I just hate my skinny arms. I want to be a big guy, not just toothpick arms. This is why I never liked a girl before. Most of them beautiful girls are bigger than me.”
“Actually, I did have someone but it was generations ago, like 2 (two) months ago.”
“Some of the things that I feel insecure were my nose is too big, my hair is not so long and my face looks terrible, my butt’s too big for my size “I think so?” and also my clothes are not that fanzy.”
“I have met one girl once, and I stood up for her many times. I always told her how she looks, how she smells, or the way she smiles with shiny lip gloss on her lips. I didn’t think it would feel nice, but it was so good… there are some things that I don’t feel insecure (don’t like) about her. The “pinballs” (pimples) on her face. It wasn’t bad, but I don’t feel comfortable when she will pop out the pinballs and the liquid inside will come out. Eww that’s disgusting.”
“I’ve stood up a boy- just once. And it was really funny. I laughed my guts out when I heard he waited for me that day. He really thought I was going to show up.”
“I don’t have anything that I felt insecure about, because the lord is the one that create me, so even though others said that I look ugly, I will kept that face.”
“yes, it feels so sad and it makes me feel like I am lost. So what I’ve did was I stood there for almost 20 minutes waiting for her. I think it was when I was 15 years old just last year.”
On being stood up and feeling insecure:
“Me myself, I just hate my skinny arms. I want to be a big guy, not just toothpick arms. This is why I never liked a girl before. Most of them beautiful girls are bigger than me.”
“Actually, I did have someone but it was generations ago, like 2 (two) months ago.”
“Some of the things that I feel insecure were my nose is too big, my hair is not so long and my face looks terrible, my butt’s too big for my size “I think so?” and also my clothes are not that fanzy.”
“I have met one girl once, and I stood up for her many times. I always told her how she looks, how she smells, or the way she smiles with shiny lip gloss on her lips. I didn’t think it would feel nice, but it was so good…
“I’ve stood up a boy- just once. And it was really funny. I laughed my guts out when I heard he waited for me that day. He really thought I was going to show up.”
“I don’t have anything that I felt insecure about, because the lord is the one that create me, so even though others said that I look ugly, I will kept that face.”
“yes, it feels so sad and it makes me feel like I am lost. So what I’ve did was I stood there for almost 20 minutes waiting for her. I think it was when I was 15 years old just last year.”
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Leaving on a Jet Plane
My mother shipped a copy of the Economist over to Kosrae. It came packaged between anti-itch ointments and an external dvd drive. This was connection with the outside world, mosquito control, and entertainment. Essentially, it was Christmas in a box.
The Economist is one way of getting me to think of places other than Kosrae, but in truth, thoughts of faraway places are never far away. Namibia, the Netherlands, Oman, Ireland, Japan, Chile, and Singapore are frequent dinner conversation references with friends here.
Lately, it has been a season of coming and going. It took a lot to get to Micronesia, but a lot of us are starting to put in effort to getting out and going to other places. An unsurprising shared characteristic about the expats on the island is our willingness to propel ourselves into random, and not so random, corners of the Earth. Peace Corps applications to the Middle East and South America are frantically being completed via haphazard Kosrean internet. Grad School essays to international universities are being written. People are returning to Japan, getting married and moving on the next phase of their lives. Someone is ready to teach English in Macau (the land of my ancestors!), while another is ready to return back to America to recharge for Southeast Asia. Older volunteers are wrapping up their 2 year stint here and have thoughts on Africa.
For most of us, this island life is transitory. How transitory it is, well, that’s left up to the individual. We’re a bunch of travelers whose paths happen to cross on this tiny island; soon, we’ll be dispersed like dandelions, and going wherever the wind blows.
I think it’s great that many of my coworkers and friends have figured out what is best for them and are making plans to continue their adventure. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to Asia (notice how I didn’t write America), or anywhere for that matter. It’s still a new relationship, me and Kosrae; it’s exciting to have no idea where things will lead. So far, we’re in the initial great stage of euphoric happiness. It’s super attractive, given its truly beautiful stretches of white sand and coconut palm façade. We have a lot of fun together, and our kayaking/snorkeling/hiking/swimming dates never fail to be amazing times that bring us closer together. But, having fun is not going to be enough (for me anyways, I don’t know about Kosrae) to turn this fling into a lasting, sustainable relationship. What is it going to take for me to stay with Kosrae for another year after this one? I’m definitely not ready to call it quits yet, and want to find out. More on this later.
Something entirely unrelated: I am now a SAT prep teacher. Fancy that.
The Economist is one way of getting me to think of places other than Kosrae, but in truth, thoughts of faraway places are never far away. Namibia, the Netherlands, Oman, Ireland, Japan, Chile, and Singapore are frequent dinner conversation references with friends here.
Lately, it has been a season of coming and going. It took a lot to get to Micronesia, but a lot of us are starting to put in effort to getting out and going to other places. An unsurprising shared characteristic about the expats on the island is our willingness to propel ourselves into random, and not so random, corners of the Earth. Peace Corps applications to the Middle East and South America are frantically being completed via haphazard Kosrean internet. Grad School essays to international universities are being written. People are returning to Japan, getting married and moving on the next phase of their lives. Someone is ready to teach English in Macau (the land of my ancestors!), while another is ready to return back to America to recharge for Southeast Asia. Older volunteers are wrapping up their 2 year stint here and have thoughts on Africa.
For most of us, this island life is transitory. How transitory it is, well, that’s left up to the individual. We’re a bunch of travelers whose paths happen to cross on this tiny island; soon, we’ll be dispersed like dandelions, and going wherever the wind blows.
I think it’s great that many of my coworkers and friends have figured out what is best for them and are making plans to continue their adventure. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to Asia (notice how I didn’t write America), or anywhere for that matter. It’s still a new relationship, me and Kosrae; it’s exciting to have no idea where things will lead. So far, we’re in the initial great stage of euphoric happiness. It’s super attractive, given its truly beautiful stretches of white sand and coconut palm façade. We have a lot of fun together, and our kayaking/snorkeling/hiking/swimming dates never fail to be amazing times that bring us closer together. But, having fun is not going to be enough (for me anyways, I don’t know about Kosrae) to turn this fling into a lasting, sustainable relationship. What is it going to take for me to stay with Kosrae for another year after this one? I’m definitely not ready to call it quits yet, and want to find out. More on this later.
Something entirely unrelated: I am now a SAT prep teacher. Fancy that.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
To fan or not to fan-
-should never be a question in Kosrae. It is neither the howling puppy, nor the howling karaoke that commences upstairs. The single greatest complaint from the visitors who frequent our apartment is that our place is a human oven. That is true. Mackenzie’s and my place rivals a furnace.
Recently, Mack finally got on the ball and bought a fan. Sure, we had to duck tape it to keep it intact, but that’s normal in Kosrae, and a fan is a fan. I on the other hand, have been (irresponsibly) avoiding the logistical complexities of transporting a fan on a bike. We’ve rehearsed it, but the one handed lopsided bike ride sounds, and looks, so un-fun.
But like the grasshopper that played all summer, here I am, sans fan in the early A.M heat wave; while the roommate is sleeping with a light breeze. Normally, the heat is bearable; a winter when compared to a Cambodian summer. Cambodia however, did not have a puppy or karaoke within the vicinity of my living quarters. When heat is combined with howling coming from either source (in tonight’s case, karaoke to Clapton), it makes for a sleepless night. I think it’s another night on the (slightly cooler)couch for me. Tomorrow, booking it to Ace to buy the last fan there.
At this point, life in Kosrae has in a way, transitioned to level two. We’ve secured the fort: mental energy is no longer needed to grasp the basics of survival on this island. We know which rain catchments are safe for drinking, we’ve learned some practical easy high energy foods (like peanut butter and rice), become familiarized with the 2 or 3 stores and 2 or 3 restaurants, started some semblance of a teaching schedule, and relearned (very quickly) the merits of sun block and mosquito repellent. The question now is: what next? Some volunteers have begun to divert their attention elsewhere, like taking time to learning the fishing ways of the locals and successfully beginning to catch their own seafood. Some have taken up diving courses, while others (myself included) have grown fond of the ukulele, a popular instrument played here.
I can’t speak for others, but my days in Kosrae have been filled with activities that have been very restful. Even teaching is restful and therapeutic in a strange way. Ironically, all this restfulness is making me restless. Now that the fort has been secured, the question of what next? What next?- has been growing. For the first time, I am actually craving a math problem or two.
Recently, Mack finally got on the ball and bought a fan. Sure, we had to duck tape it to keep it intact, but that’s normal in Kosrae, and a fan is a fan. I on the other hand, have been (irresponsibly) avoiding the logistical complexities of transporting a fan on a bike. We’ve rehearsed it, but the one handed lopsided bike ride sounds, and looks, so un-fun.
But like the grasshopper that played all summer, here I am, sans fan in the early A.M heat wave; while the roommate is sleeping with a light breeze. Normally, the heat is bearable; a winter when compared to a Cambodian summer. Cambodia however, did not have a puppy or karaoke within the vicinity of my living quarters. When heat is combined with howling coming from either source (in tonight’s case, karaoke to Clapton), it makes for a sleepless night. I think it’s another night on the (slightly cooler)couch for me. Tomorrow, booking it to Ace to buy the last fan there.
At this point, life in Kosrae has in a way, transitioned to level two. We’ve secured the fort: mental energy is no longer needed to grasp the basics of survival on this island. We know which rain catchments are safe for drinking, we’ve learned some practical easy high energy foods (like peanut butter and rice), become familiarized with the 2 or 3 stores and 2 or 3 restaurants, started some semblance of a teaching schedule, and relearned (very quickly) the merits of sun block and mosquito repellent. The question now is: what next? Some volunteers have begun to divert their attention elsewhere, like taking time to learning the fishing ways of the locals and successfully beginning to catch their own seafood. Some have taken up diving courses, while others (myself included) have grown fond of the ukulele, a popular instrument played here.
I can’t speak for others, but my days in Kosrae have been filled with activities that have been very restful. Even teaching is restful and therapeutic in a strange way. Ironically, all this restfulness is making me restless. Now that the fort has been secured, the question of what next? What next?- has been growing. For the first time, I am actually craving a math problem or two.
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