Wow. Cancelled last year at the last minute, this November 1st, 2007,
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Hallowe'en Night
The Angry Panda?
Every now and again I wonder about the name of this blog and how many people know the story behind it. I think to myself, I should post the story, just in case. And then my train continues on to other stations and countrysides (apparently “countrysides,” plural, is not actually a word, but I’m going to just ignore that and use it anyway).
Well, tonight I’m going to tell the story of the “Angry Panda.”
The Angry Panda was born around Christmas time last year (2006), in the middle of an intense and loud badminton game. Greg Watson and I, “G-Dubs” and “L-Train,” were on one side, Chris Dwyer and AJ Cabrera were on the other. This was up at
I just stopped in my tracks, I simply froze. I looked at him for a moment, and said “An angry panda? An angry Panda would look like this” and then just gave him the blankest, most expressionless face for about 5 deadpan seconds. Whether you find this funny now, as you read it, doesn’t really matter. It was hysterical at the moment, and so thus the “Angry Panda” was born.
The Angry Panda would then pop up from time to time throughout the rest of the Christmas vacation. As he evolved he diversified in his emotions. There was the “Hungry Panda” which was the 5 second Angry Panda with a subtle, longing munch on the 3rd second. The “Thirsty Panda” which had a licking of the lips at the 3rd second. The “Sad Panda,” which was the Angry Panda with eyes downcast, except for one glance up on the 3rd second. And so on.
And it is no coincidence that the Angry Panda was in the height of his popularity when I created this blog. I was gmailing with Greg about site names, and he mentioned the Angry Panda, and so it was. It seemed only natural, only right. And there’s been no looking back!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Monica Was Here!
Monica came August 15th, and left September 17th, and it was absolutely amazing to have her here. Any doubt, any fear, any uncertainty there may have been with who we were and what we meant to each other was completely destroyed by that month together. To simply be together was happiness.
While Monica was here she had a chance to see this life in its day to day reality. She saw the students, had a chance to get to know them, to hear them sing, and even to teach them a little (she taught my Economics class, and then we also taught swing dancing together after school). She also saw our community lives, how we eat dinner, how we spend time during and after school, how we take out the trash. She was able to see the school, the other teachers, and the local neighbourhood. She had a chance to see everything that was “normal,” which was the idea exactly.
Monica and I also had a chance to visit a couple of places on weekends as well. One weekend we spent on Pisar with Marcos, Jessie and Caitlin (fellow community mates), which is nothing short of a tropical paradise. Pisar is a white sandy island, away from everything. It has incredible, colourful snorkeling in crystal clear waters, palm trees, coconuts, and an alright view of the sunset. Besides the fact that Monica at one point in the night thought that the island was going to sink because of the rain, it was nothing but peaceful and beautiful. We took pictures!
We also had a chance to visit my host family on their home island of Siis, my favourite island I’ve seen in Chuuk yet. It is not Weno and so has a true Chuukese feel. It is small with no noise, no raods, few stores and a quietness and peace that exists on many of the islands that are not Weno, the most “developed” island (the capital). People walk leisurely from place to place and visit each other without pretense or reason other than just to visit. We swam with my host sisters at my favourite beach, went to mass (Monica wore a Mumu, a Chuukese cultural dress!), went to a funeral (paid our respects), ate, slept, relaxed. As a bonus, we had beautiful boat rides there and back which took us between and beside other islands of the lagoon.
On top of these island visits, we saw Xavier and that JVI community up there “on the hill,” and Monica got a chance to see the international band of which I have found myself a part. It recently formed here on Chuuk, and I’ve joined them on the harmonica. Not necessarily the highest in quality, we have fun doin’ the mess around and playing songs of every imaginable style and genre that we like. Monica and I also made it to Truk Stop a couple of times, a nearby hotel with a dock that shoots way out into the water, for refreshing smoothies. A tranquil place to swim, read, watch the sunset and relax. Sadly, and inexplicably, the hotel makes fruit smoothies with ingredients like bananas, coconuts, mangos and pineapples (all of which grow in abundance here in Chuuk) with pre-made, sugary powders. What??
Anyways, besides these visits and outings Monica and I had a chance to simply see each other, talk to each other, catch up. In the end though, we could talk about intense things, mundane things, or nothing at all and it wouldn’t have mattered. What mattered was being together, and that’s what we had a chance to be, for a few weeks. It was recharging, and the departure, although sad, lacked the fear and apprehension of a similar departure a year earlier. That was probably the best thing of it all. I may have cried watching her walk across a tarmac onto a plane under floodlights and a beautiful starry sky, but my heart was at peace. I’ve found myself completely in love.
While Monica was here she had a chance to see this life in its day to day reality. She saw the students, had a chance to get to know them, to hear them sing, and even to teach them a little (she taught my Economics class, and then we also taught swing dancing together after school). She also saw our community lives, how we eat dinner, how we spend time during and after school, how we take out the trash. She was able to see the school, the other teachers, and the local neighbourhood. She had a chance to see everything that was “normal,” which was the idea exactly.
Monica and I also had a chance to visit a couple of places on weekends as well. One weekend we spent on Pisar with Marcos, Jessie and Caitlin (fellow community mates), which is nothing short of a tropical paradise. Pisar is a white sandy island, away from everything. It has incredible, colourful snorkeling in crystal clear waters, palm trees, coconuts, and an alright view of the sunset. Besides the fact that Monica at one point in the night thought that the island was going to sink because of the rain, it was nothing but peaceful and beautiful. We took pictures!
We also had a chance to visit my host family on their home island of Siis, my favourite island I’ve seen in Chuuk yet. It is not Weno and so has a true Chuukese feel. It is small with no noise, no raods, few stores and a quietness and peace that exists on many of the islands that are not Weno, the most “developed” island (the capital). People walk leisurely from place to place and visit each other without pretense or reason other than just to visit. We swam with my host sisters at my favourite beach, went to mass (Monica wore a Mumu, a Chuukese cultural dress!), went to a funeral (paid our respects), ate, slept, relaxed. As a bonus, we had beautiful boat rides there and back which took us between and beside other islands of the lagoon.
On top of these island visits, we saw Xavier and that JVI community up there “on the hill,” and Monica got a chance to see the international band of which I have found myself a part. It recently formed here on Chuuk, and I’ve joined them on the harmonica. Not necessarily the highest in quality, we have fun doin’ the mess around and playing songs of every imaginable style and genre that we like. Monica and I also made it to Truk Stop a couple of times, a nearby hotel with a dock that shoots way out into the water, for refreshing smoothies. A tranquil place to swim, read, watch the sunset and relax. Sadly, and inexplicably, the hotel makes fruit smoothies with ingredients like bananas, coconuts, mangos and pineapples (all of which grow in abundance here in Chuuk) with pre-made, sugary powders. What??
Anyways, besides these visits and outings Monica and I had a chance to simply see each other, talk to each other, catch up. In the end though, we could talk about intense things, mundane things, or nothing at all and it wouldn’t have mattered. What mattered was being together, and that’s what we had a chance to be, for a few weeks. It was recharging, and the departure, although sad, lacked the fear and apprehension of a similar departure a year earlier. That was probably the best thing of it all. I may have cried watching her walk across a tarmac onto a plane under floodlights and a beautiful starry sky, but my heart was at peace. I’ve found myself completely in love.
Anecdotes of a Summer
I've been meaning to do this for some time now. Here are a bunch of short anecdotes about my time in Pohnpei. It was a beautiful summer!
*
HAP: The Higher Achievement Program, run by the Jesuits in the region, is a summer program for high achieving 7th going on 8th graders. A couple of students are taken from each elementary school all over the state, and they come together for a summer of advanced teaching and relationship building. At the beginning, everyone is terrified to speak. At the end, we had a whole day picnic/party on the beach! And, as a bonus, I got to teach alongside Colleen (JV from Xavier) and under Tim (a JV from Pohnpei) as a director, which made my summer complete.
*
HAP II: Teaching a bunch of great students, for a half a day in the summer, was great fun. Everyone wanted to be there, wanted to participate, wanted to learn. This allowed for hilarious moments to be hilarious and not awkward. For example, I told one of the better students to change seats. He got up, and I pulled the chair away as I looked around the class for where he should go. He didn’t want to wait standing up, so he sat back down – only there was no longer any chair. A crash, a moment of me looking down at what I had done, and then histaria. Good times.class.
We also did swing dancing, and I have to mention two students - Jerome and Jocelyn. We were preparing a dance for a performance at our graduation, and these two went to town. They were awesome at it, and they led and inspired the other kids. Sadly, on the day of our performance, Jocelyn’s over-demanding father took her away when she didn’t receive any special awards at the graduation ceremony. She didn’t have a chance to tell anyone, and so we all waited, delayed as long as we could, before finally performning because we could not wait. We danced, but without our usual joy and spirit. Jerome said “Me and Jocelyn will dance tomorrow, at the picnic.” But they did not, as she wasn’t allowed to attend that either. I didn’t find out why she hadn’t come until only a couple of weeks ago. Sad and frustrating.
*
Buses: We took our HAP kids to Nan Madol for a field trip one Friday. Nan Madol is akin to the pyramids in it’s majestic mystery – absolutely massive basalt pillars and beams shape and frame the place, and no one has any idea how they got to where they are. So that was cool to see.
And cool to get there alive, see them alive. We were late leaving due to a miscommunication, and perhaps someone felt bad for this because all three bus drivers drove us to Nan Madol like they were being chased by Jehu’s Chariot – and they went the long way. The roads in Pohnpei are small, and given it’s island nature, absolutely not straight, and so we were literally careening around the island. I haven’t been as scared since driving in India. Students throwing up, people yelling, it was a bad sight.
*
Kids in the rain: Sean is a Peace Corps guy in Pohnpei who started a youth soccer program. We became good friends, as he is a great guy. As for the program, we got to help out a little while we were there and it was amazing. Such dedication, enthusiasm, and natural talent! I will never forget one Wednesday practice that I was doing on my own. We were just playing a game, and it started pouring – and I mean pouring. Windy, muddy, soaking, swampy wetness. The field was getting flooded, all shirts were getting muddy, and no one cared. They were so happy playing, so excited about playing that they didn’t even blink an eye. Even the adult players, who usually came every night at around 7:00pm (they have field lights!), didn’t show up that night. But the kids, man, the kids were amazing. They said it all in their smiles.
*
Soccer: One of the greatest joys this summer was being able to play soccer at least twice a week. Ex-pats and Pohnpeins would gather around 7:00 pm, under the lights, and we’d usually play until 8:30, 9:00pm. We’d use small goals (which, frustratingly, often people just stood in to block shots. Lame.), cones and pinneys. It was fast, energetic, and challenging enough to be satisfying. And so awesome to play under lights! We only got one full field game in over the summer, but that game was great. It made me excited to see organized sports again.
*
Bikini Island: One day Dali, our awesome Pohnpein teaching colleague at HAP, took us out to a small, man-made family island they had made just inside the reef. Due to its size, it was named “Bikini Island.” Swimming at “Bikini” was beautiful – there was coral, a bamboo raft, salt water, and the most spectacular benjo (outhouse) you’ve ever seen. Check out pictures for that one. Swimming there, with the younger kids and my fellow JVs, it just felt like home. So comfortable, so peaceful, and nowhere else to go but in and out of the beautiful water.
*
Thorphin: The Thorphin is an old Norwegian whaler that has been converted into a lagoon live aboard diving ship. It is captained by someone from Canada, and is a staple in Chuuk. It has a diesel engine, and single handedly consumes the waste oil produced by the generators in the four F.S.M. states. At the beginning of the summer it inexplicably ran into the reef while leaving Pohnpei after refueling. It remained stuck there for the whole summer, mostly for legal rather than logistic reasons. The Pohnpein Port Authority (PPA) wanted to fine the Thorphin for not using a pilot (it hasn’t in decades). The Thorphin, represented by a great guy we played soccer with (Steve), said they would simply sue for the innumerable negligent actions of the PPA, including placing none of the marking buoys required by their own laws.
Can we look at this for a second? An example of ineffective bureaucratical functioning. We have a ship, sinking on a reef, which has thousands of gallons of oil on board from refueling. Even without the environmental danger, if the ship sinks in the pass, supply ships won’t be able to make it into the harbour until it is salvaged. There is no salvaging equipment in the country. Lastly, the ship in question single-handedly deals with all of the waste oil produced by the entire country. And the PPA is trying to nail them on breaking a transportation law, before they’re trying to get them off the reef. A rethinking of priorities may have been, I think, in order. It’s ok now though, the Thorphin made it to the Philippines where it is being repaired on a dry dock.
*
Airports: People traveling in F.S.M., especially those who fly, not only carry themselves but also act as the mail service for their friends and families. Friends of ours, a Shri-Lankan family with one sister in Pohnpei and another in Chuuk, approached me at the airport with a giant case of Soy milk and asked if I could take it to the other sister and husband and their son, who all love Soy milk but can’t get it in Chuuk. I was only checking one bag, so sure. I checked two. And I was met by Jonathan, our friend and the son of the sister, at the airport in Chuuk. It worked seamlessly.
But the best thing is, there’s no restrictions on who takes what. While waiting to get cleared at the customs place, one of the guys inside the booth saw the lady behind me, recognized her as a relative, and excitedly asked her if she was going to Yap. Yes, she said, and so he gave her a letter to deliver there. As it exchanged hands in front of me, I saw that is was from the Attorney General’s office and was addressed to a government official in Yap. Like I said, it works.
*
Rise up singing: One of the best nights of summer, if not the best night, was the night a music professor from North Carolina inspired a round table of old Jesuits and young Jesuit volunteers to sing songs for hours after dinner. We had just finished eating when he pulled out the guitar, and asked if he might play one song. He did, everyone loved it, and we never stopped. I especially loved it because it was a lot of old folk songs I really like, so I was right in there with the Fathers. There was a little harmonica playing as well. It felt like Christmas in July in Pohnpei!
*
Bittersweet: Leaving was. I was longing to get back to Chuuk, but Pohnpei was amazing. Living at the Jesuit residence, playing soccer any night of the week, having power, having great company, it was all a beautiful thing. But it wasn’t home. It was a vacation. And I was ready to get back home, to get back to Saram and the Saramen Chuuk Academy family.
*
HAP: The Higher Achievement Program, run by the Jesuits in the region, is a summer program for high achieving 7th going on 8th graders. A couple of students are taken from each elementary school all over the state, and they come together for a summer of advanced teaching and relationship building. At the beginning, everyone is terrified to speak. At the end, we had a whole day picnic/party on the beach! And, as a bonus, I got to teach alongside Colleen (JV from Xavier) and under Tim (a JV from Pohnpei) as a director, which made my summer complete.
*
HAP II: Teaching a bunch of great students, for a half a day in the summer, was great fun. Everyone wanted to be there, wanted to participate, wanted to learn. This allowed for hilarious moments to be hilarious and not awkward. For example, I told one of the better students to change seats. He got up, and I pulled the chair away as I looked around the class for where he should go. He didn’t want to wait standing up, so he sat back down – only there was no longer any chair. A crash, a moment of me looking down at what I had done, and then histaria. Good times.class.
We also did swing dancing, and I have to mention two students - Jerome and Jocelyn. We were preparing a dance for a performance at our graduation, and these two went to town. They were awesome at it, and they led and inspired the other kids. Sadly, on the day of our performance, Jocelyn’s over-demanding father took her away when she didn’t receive any special awards at the graduation ceremony. She didn’t have a chance to tell anyone, and so we all waited, delayed as long as we could, before finally performning because we could not wait. We danced, but without our usual joy and spirit. Jerome said “Me and Jocelyn will dance tomorrow, at the picnic.” But they did not, as she wasn’t allowed to attend that either. I didn’t find out why she hadn’t come until only a couple of weeks ago. Sad and frustrating.
*
Buses: We took our HAP kids to Nan Madol for a field trip one Friday. Nan Madol is akin to the pyramids in it’s majestic mystery – absolutely massive basalt pillars and beams shape and frame the place, and no one has any idea how they got to where they are. So that was cool to see.
And cool to get there alive, see them alive. We were late leaving due to a miscommunication, and perhaps someone felt bad for this because all three bus drivers drove us to Nan Madol like they were being chased by Jehu’s Chariot – and they went the long way. The roads in Pohnpei are small, and given it’s island nature, absolutely not straight, and so we were literally careening around the island. I haven’t been as scared since driving in India. Students throwing up, people yelling, it was a bad sight.
*
Kids in the rain: Sean is a Peace Corps guy in Pohnpei who started a youth soccer program. We became good friends, as he is a great guy. As for the program, we got to help out a little while we were there and it was amazing. Such dedication, enthusiasm, and natural talent! I will never forget one Wednesday practice that I was doing on my own. We were just playing a game, and it started pouring – and I mean pouring. Windy, muddy, soaking, swampy wetness. The field was getting flooded, all shirts were getting muddy, and no one cared. They were so happy playing, so excited about playing that they didn’t even blink an eye. Even the adult players, who usually came every night at around 7:00pm (they have field lights!), didn’t show up that night. But the kids, man, the kids were amazing. They said it all in their smiles.
*
Soccer: One of the greatest joys this summer was being able to play soccer at least twice a week. Ex-pats and Pohnpeins would gather around 7:00 pm, under the lights, and we’d usually play until 8:30, 9:00pm. We’d use small goals (which, frustratingly, often people just stood in to block shots. Lame.), cones and pinneys. It was fast, energetic, and challenging enough to be satisfying. And so awesome to play under lights! We only got one full field game in over the summer, but that game was great. It made me excited to see organized sports again.
*
Bikini Island: One day Dali, our awesome Pohnpein teaching colleague at HAP, took us out to a small, man-made family island they had made just inside the reef. Due to its size, it was named “Bikini Island.” Swimming at “Bikini” was beautiful – there was coral, a bamboo raft, salt water, and the most spectacular benjo (outhouse) you’ve ever seen. Check out pictures for that one. Swimming there, with the younger kids and my fellow JVs, it just felt like home. So comfortable, so peaceful, and nowhere else to go but in and out of the beautiful water.
*
Thorphin: The Thorphin is an old Norwegian whaler that has been converted into a lagoon live aboard diving ship. It is captained by someone from Canada, and is a staple in Chuuk. It has a diesel engine, and single handedly consumes the waste oil produced by the generators in the four F.S.M. states. At the beginning of the summer it inexplicably ran into the reef while leaving Pohnpei after refueling. It remained stuck there for the whole summer, mostly for legal rather than logistic reasons. The Pohnpein Port Authority (PPA) wanted to fine the Thorphin for not using a pilot (it hasn’t in decades). The Thorphin, represented by a great guy we played soccer with (Steve), said they would simply sue for the innumerable negligent actions of the PPA, including placing none of the marking buoys required by their own laws.
Can we look at this for a second? An example of ineffective bureaucratical functioning. We have a ship, sinking on a reef, which has thousands of gallons of oil on board from refueling. Even without the environmental danger, if the ship sinks in the pass, supply ships won’t be able to make it into the harbour until it is salvaged. There is no salvaging equipment in the country. Lastly, the ship in question single-handedly deals with all of the waste oil produced by the entire country. And the PPA is trying to nail them on breaking a transportation law, before they’re trying to get them off the reef. A rethinking of priorities may have been, I think, in order. It’s ok now though, the Thorphin made it to the Philippines where it is being repaired on a dry dock.
*
Airports: People traveling in F.S.M., especially those who fly, not only carry themselves but also act as the mail service for their friends and families. Friends of ours, a Shri-Lankan family with one sister in Pohnpei and another in Chuuk, approached me at the airport with a giant case of Soy milk and asked if I could take it to the other sister and husband and their son, who all love Soy milk but can’t get it in Chuuk. I was only checking one bag, so sure. I checked two. And I was met by Jonathan, our friend and the son of the sister, at the airport in Chuuk. It worked seamlessly.
But the best thing is, there’s no restrictions on who takes what. While waiting to get cleared at the customs place, one of the guys inside the booth saw the lady behind me, recognized her as a relative, and excitedly asked her if she was going to Yap. Yes, she said, and so he gave her a letter to deliver there. As it exchanged hands in front of me, I saw that is was from the Attorney General’s office and was addressed to a government official in Yap. Like I said, it works.
*
Rise up singing: One of the best nights of summer, if not the best night, was the night a music professor from North Carolina inspired a round table of old Jesuits and young Jesuit volunteers to sing songs for hours after dinner. We had just finished eating when he pulled out the guitar, and asked if he might play one song. He did, everyone loved it, and we never stopped. I especially loved it because it was a lot of old folk songs I really like, so I was right in there with the Fathers. There was a little harmonica playing as well. It felt like Christmas in July in Pohnpei!
*
Bittersweet: Leaving was. I was longing to get back to Chuuk, but Pohnpei was amazing. Living at the Jesuit residence, playing soccer any night of the week, having power, having great company, it was all a beautiful thing. But it wasn’t home. It was a vacation. And I was ready to get back home, to get back to Saram and the Saramen Chuuk Academy family.
Monday, June 25, 2007
A Happy Household
Fr. McGarry is one of those "old guys" who says things under his breath and in a sort of mumbling way that, when you hear them, make you spit out your milk and start rolling on the floor laughing. Unfortunately I can't really give examples, because about 80% of the humour is of the "you had to be there" variety, but I'll hope you trust me on this one. Naturally, then, while all of the priests we are living with are exceptional in there own right (Fr. Fran is an encyclopedia, Fr. Cav is jolly as can be, and Fr. Dave has an ease and sensitivity about him that makes you instantly comfortable and at home), Fr. McGarry naturally became the one that we laugh with the most.
And so, naturally, the one we decided to play a prank on (don't worry, playing pranks on priests is kosher :) when you live with them).
The idea started developing the days before, as we listened to Fr. McGarry gripe and groan about this massive jar of three-berry jam that had been opened, and consequently needed to be finished before a new jar of jam - of a different flavoured jam - could be opened. He hated three-berry, but loved all other sorts. So he would eat as much as he could at any given sitting, and would do his best to get others to join him in his efforts (with little success I think).
Finally, a couple of days ago, the jar was almost empty. It would be done within the day or two. It was at lunch when we started asking what would happen if one of us finished it and decided we liked three-berry jam and opened another jar of it. Immediately, simply, and straightforwardly he said "I'd kill you." Never mind consequences.
The idea thus presented itself in our minds - what if Fr. McGarry did think another jar of three berry jam had been opened? What would he do?
That night, the three-berry jam was finished. Triumphantly, gloriously, and very vocally Fr. McGarry opened a new jar of STRAWBERRY jam. Giant, like the last one, but strawberry this time. He happily ate some toast and jam and went to bed. We - Colleen, Tim and myself, the JVs of the house - started brainstorming. The jars were the same size, same brand, everything, and eventually we thought we'd see if we couldn't switch labels. We tried pulling the three-berry jam label off and --- voila! It worked! Thank God for the humidity of the islands! We peeled it off, slowly and carefully, and equally slowly and carefully put it on the strawberry jam jar - and it was beautiful. Looked exactly like a jar of three-berry jam. Perfect! We put it back in the fridge, giggled, and went to bed.
The next day at lunch Fr. McGarry decided to have jam. We were all sitting around the circular dining room table, in great anticipation. Fr. Dave had also been alerted to the game, and played his party very well. Fr. McGarry went to the fridge, got the jam, a plate, his toast, sat down. Fr. Cav also got his pancakes from the microwave and BBQ sauce to smother them in, and sat down. Fr. McGarry looked at the jam and said "Does anyone realize what a terrible mistake has been made? Apparently I opened another bottle of three-berry jam... This is terrible..." In resignation to another long effort he opened the jar, stuck in his knife, and got himself some jam.
A lot of jam.
It was at this point that Fr. Cav realized he had BBQ sauce, not syrup, and got up again to switch them and put his coffee in the microwave.
It got better. Fr. McGarry started talking about how it wasn't so bad, it just wasn't great. Fr. Dave then said, quietly, "It's all in the mind father, it's all in the mind." Fr. Cav then got up because he realized he had put his coffee in for not 1 minute and 17 seconds but 1 hr. and 17 minutes. Fr. McGarry then, holding the jar up to the light, said he was trying to get the strawberry bits in the jam because they tasted the best. We all were cracking up (even Fr. Dave was enjoying himself), Fr. Cav told us to stop laughing at him (he didn't know about the jam) and Fr. McGarry was in a general state of distress and disappointment.
It was then that Colleen spun the GIANT lazy Susan around and quietly scratched off the "Three-Berry" part of the label, leaving the "Strawberry" underneath, and inconspicuously spun it again so the jam stopped in front of Fr. McGarry. Eventually, he noticed it, and rather sheepishly admitted to his craziness, thinking that he had opened a three-berry jam. He hadn't, he had opened strawberry, and so he made his confessions to all for his mistake.
We couldn't stop smiling!
After this we explained what we did. Fr. Dave was smiling, Fr. Cav was laughing, Fr. Fran was in the Marshalls, and Fr. McGarry wasn't sure what to do anymore - looking more than a little lost. Lost, but happy. After all, he had his strawberry jam.
A happy household!
And so, naturally, the one we decided to play a prank on (don't worry, playing pranks on priests is kosher :) when you live with them).
The idea started developing the days before, as we listened to Fr. McGarry gripe and groan about this massive jar of three-berry jam that had been opened, and consequently needed to be finished before a new jar of jam - of a different flavoured jam - could be opened. He hated three-berry, but loved all other sorts. So he would eat as much as he could at any given sitting, and would do his best to get others to join him in his efforts (with little success I think).
Finally, a couple of days ago, the jar was almost empty. It would be done within the day or two. It was at lunch when we started asking what would happen if one of us finished it and decided we liked three-berry jam and opened another jar of it. Immediately, simply, and straightforwardly he said "I'd kill you." Never mind consequences.
The idea thus presented itself in our minds - what if Fr. McGarry did think another jar of three berry jam had been opened? What would he do?
That night, the three-berry jam was finished. Triumphantly, gloriously, and very vocally Fr. McGarry opened a new jar of STRAWBERRY jam. Giant, like the last one, but strawberry this time. He happily ate some toast and jam and went to bed. We - Colleen, Tim and myself, the JVs of the house - started brainstorming. The jars were the same size, same brand, everything, and eventually we thought we'd see if we couldn't switch labels. We tried pulling the three-berry jam label off and --- voila! It worked! Thank God for the humidity of the islands! We peeled it off, slowly and carefully, and equally slowly and carefully put it on the strawberry jam jar - and it was beautiful. Looked exactly like a jar of three-berry jam. Perfect! We put it back in the fridge, giggled, and went to bed.
The next day at lunch Fr. McGarry decided to have jam. We were all sitting around the circular dining room table, in great anticipation. Fr. Dave had also been alerted to the game, and played his party very well. Fr. McGarry went to the fridge, got the jam, a plate, his toast, sat down. Fr. Cav also got his pancakes from the microwave and BBQ sauce to smother them in, and sat down. Fr. McGarry looked at the jam and said "Does anyone realize what a terrible mistake has been made? Apparently I opened another bottle of three-berry jam... This is terrible..." In resignation to another long effort he opened the jar, stuck in his knife, and got himself some jam.
A lot of jam.
It was at this point that Fr. Cav realized he had BBQ sauce, not syrup, and got up again to switch them and put his coffee in the microwave.
It got better. Fr. McGarry started talking about how it wasn't so bad, it just wasn't great. Fr. Dave then said, quietly, "It's all in the mind father, it's all in the mind." Fr. Cav then got up because he realized he had put his coffee in for not 1 minute and 17 seconds but 1 hr. and 17 minutes. Fr. McGarry then, holding the jar up to the light, said he was trying to get the strawberry bits in the jam because they tasted the best. We all were cracking up (even Fr. Dave was enjoying himself), Fr. Cav told us to stop laughing at him (he didn't know about the jam) and Fr. McGarry was in a general state of distress and disappointment.
It was then that Colleen spun the GIANT lazy Susan around and quietly scratched off the "Three-Berry" part of the label, leaving the "Strawberry" underneath, and inconspicuously spun it again so the jam stopped in front of Fr. McGarry. Eventually, he noticed it, and rather sheepishly admitted to his craziness, thinking that he had opened a three-berry jam. He hadn't, he had opened strawberry, and so he made his confessions to all for his mistake.
We couldn't stop smiling!
After this we explained what we did. Fr. Dave was smiling, Fr. Cav was laughing, Fr. Fran was in the Marshalls, and Fr. McGarry wasn't sure what to do anymore - looking more than a little lost. Lost, but happy. After all, he had his strawberry jam.
A happy household!
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Pohnpein Perspective
Perspective is a crazy thing. When I was training at Oberlin for soccer, as a goalie, our coach had us (my counterpart Clayton and I) do this exercise that exploited this fact. We were made to try and stop shots taken on larger and larger nets, until we were standing between two full-size nets doing our best to stop any shots being fired at us. After doing this for a while, we went back to a smaller sized net and it felt tiny - like the posts were right beside us. We felt infinitely more confident and able. Like many, many exercises and activities of the sort, it exploited our use of perspective in our game - what was doable, what was not. What was close/far.
Whatever. The point is that the experience was no less dramatic for Colleen and I, returning to the state of Pohnpei for a second time after ten months in Chuuk. We stopped by Pohnpei on our flight to Chuuk back in August, and spent a few days here, before heading to our final destination and future home. During that time, we didn't think much of the place, although our second year JVs from Chuuk praised it and seemed to glorify the mundane in it. Silly things like "the roads are SO nice here" and "enjoy the 24hr power." Now, after 10 months in Chuuk, our return to Pohnpei has been full of similar exlamations.
The first day here we went to visit the house of Tim and Greg, the Pohnpein JVs, where we can't stay because they have to build a new wall in preparation for a new JV next year, and I almost died on the way back. In Chuuk, if a car is coming up behind you, you have about 5 minutes from when you hear until when it will eventually get to you. Even then, it's usually a better idea to look behind you as it gets really close to see whether you moving to the right or to the left would be a better idea, given the location of whatever holes and/or ruts are in the vicinity. In Pohnpei, however, cars will just go straight and you have about 5 seconds between when you hear a car and when it gets directly behind you. My reactions are not used to this, so I almost didn't make it out of the way. When finally my brain registered that I need to get out of the way quickly I jumped off the road as the car flew past. A bit of a wake up call.
And there does indeed seem to be power on 24hrs a day, 7 days a week. I do wonder how much this fact alone accounts for the development discrepancies between Chuuk, specifically the island of Weno, and Pohnpei.
Not only is Pohnpei "hooked up" as it were, we also are fortunate - and extremely thankful - to be staying at the Jesuit house here in Kolonia town. A beautiful, relatively new residence it provides us spacious and comfortable rooms, with our own desks, fans, and sinks, a place to eat with great company (the Jesuits themselves) and food made by a talented and joyful cook (Nini) as well as access to this place, the Micronesia Seminar (a treasury of history and information on the islands), and a truck (from time to time). How was that for a sentence? Nothing, compared to this place as a place. Kolonia itself is overflowing with luxuries. There's even a movie theatre - with three screens! It costs money, so we'll probably go once, maybe twice, but the idea alone is exciting. And of course, like Chuuk, it has its own natural luxuries. Beautiful hikes, places, and people.
Tim, Colleen and I are going to be running a summer school program here for high achievers, so there will be some work to be done, but the principal of the school we'll be using commanded that we not work too hard. He said, "two bits work, three bits play at least." Ok. :)
The summer is shaping up to be a good one! *knock on wood*
Whatever. The point is that the experience was no less dramatic for Colleen and I, returning to the state of Pohnpei for a second time after ten months in Chuuk. We stopped by Pohnpei on our flight to Chuuk back in August, and spent a few days here, before heading to our final destination and future home. During that time, we didn't think much of the place, although our second year JVs from Chuuk praised it and seemed to glorify the mundane in it. Silly things like "the roads are SO nice here" and "enjoy the 24hr power." Now, after 10 months in Chuuk, our return to Pohnpei has been full of similar exlamations.
The first day here we went to visit the house of Tim and Greg, the Pohnpein JVs, where we can't stay because they have to build a new wall in preparation for a new JV next year, and I almost died on the way back. In Chuuk, if a car is coming up behind you, you have about 5 minutes from when you hear until when it will eventually get to you. Even then, it's usually a better idea to look behind you as it gets really close to see whether you moving to the right or to the left would be a better idea, given the location of whatever holes and/or ruts are in the vicinity. In Pohnpei, however, cars will just go straight and you have about 5 seconds between when you hear a car and when it gets directly behind you. My reactions are not used to this, so I almost didn't make it out of the way. When finally my brain registered that I need to get out of the way quickly I jumped off the road as the car flew past. A bit of a wake up call.
And there does indeed seem to be power on 24hrs a day, 7 days a week. I do wonder how much this fact alone accounts for the development discrepancies between Chuuk, specifically the island of Weno, and Pohnpei.
Not only is Pohnpei "hooked up" as it were, we also are fortunate - and extremely thankful - to be staying at the Jesuit house here in Kolonia town. A beautiful, relatively new residence it provides us spacious and comfortable rooms, with our own desks, fans, and sinks, a place to eat with great company (the Jesuits themselves) and food made by a talented and joyful cook (Nini) as well as access to this place, the Micronesia Seminar (a treasury of history and information on the islands), and a truck (from time to time). How was that for a sentence? Nothing, compared to this place as a place. Kolonia itself is overflowing with luxuries. There's even a movie theatre - with three screens! It costs money, so we'll probably go once, maybe twice, but the idea alone is exciting. And of course, like Chuuk, it has its own natural luxuries. Beautiful hikes, places, and people.
Tim, Colleen and I are going to be running a summer school program here for high achievers, so there will be some work to be done, but the principal of the school we'll be using commanded that we not work too hard. He said, "two bits work, three bits play at least." Ok. :)
The summer is shaping up to be a good one! *knock on wood*
A Response to "Privilege Confuses Me..."
Abby Browne, a great friend from Vermont, wrote an email to me after reading my post about privilege. She had some good things to say, at least things that I needed to hear, so I asked if I could post them. Here are highlights:
Privilege. What does it mean? Unfortunately it seems as though it's another one of those abstractions that we all take for granted, and that people like you and me, are labeled as having it. Though I don't entirely disagree. Sure, it's socially constructed, what commonly used abstraction isn't? To me, I see privilege more as opportunity than just economic stability, though they do relate. You and I never questioned where our next meal would come from growing up. We never hoped that we would be fortunate (there's another one of those words, fortunate) enough to have shelter in a storm, because we never doubted having a home. We have families that love and support us, and due to our circumstances, we were able to go to college (even if we're paying for it twenty years later), and able to support ourselves effectively. Of course it wasn't necessarily a simple process, but we do not have the limitations that so many people have across the world, and that is what makes us privileged.
*
When I think of poverty, I think of those without homes, without jobs, without food, without any sort of shelter, without the economic means of supporting their families. Poverty to me is a much more physical, concrete, thing than privilege. Yes, I think we should fight poverty. When half of the world overconsumes, is overweight, and wastes enough food to feed those impoverish countries, then something should be done to make sure that no one is left out.
*
We are lucky that we have choices that don't sacrifice our personal nourishment. We are lucky that we can sit here and discuss our privilege. Would we be talking about this if we were too busy hunting for food, whether in a trash can in the park, or across the savannah? It's not just money, it's not just choices, I certainly don't think it's material possessions or power. It takes an amazing person with something much more than the physical world to see life like the Zionist woman did [a South African Zionist woman, of grandmotherly age, who had to walk several miles to work every morning, and lived illegally with her son and his family in government housing, during Apartheid, and would joyfully sing praise to God. She was happy.]. It seems to me that it's much easier for us as humans to fall into material self-doubt, hatred and greed than find the good in every situation. Is that our culture, or our human nature? Or is that our next discussion topic?
-----
Poverty is real, privilege is real, and a greater equality - a greater global, social equality should be sought. We just need to fight the battle with as much self-awareness as possible. We need to be able to identify our human needs and our cultural needs, distinguish the two, and do our best to act in the best interests of both. It feels daunting, but necessary. Poverty and privilege are ideas, but they are also very real, and that while discussions are good, they must never lose sight of nor distract from this reality. It's a little clearer now... :)
Privilege. What does it mean? Unfortunately it seems as though it's another one of those abstractions that we all take for granted, and that people like you and me, are labeled as having it. Though I don't entirely disagree. Sure, it's socially constructed, what commonly used abstraction isn't? To me, I see privilege more as opportunity than just economic stability, though they do relate. You and I never questioned where our next meal would come from growing up. We never hoped that we would be fortunate (there's another one of those words, fortunate) enough to have shelter in a storm, because we never doubted having a home. We have families that love and support us, and due to our circumstances, we were able to go to college (even if we're paying for it twenty years later), and able to support ourselves effectively. Of course it wasn't necessarily a simple process, but we do not have the limitations that so many people have across the world, and that is what makes us privileged.
*
When I think of poverty, I think of those without homes, without jobs, without food, without any sort of shelter, without the economic means of supporting their families. Poverty to me is a much more physical, concrete, thing than privilege. Yes, I think we should fight poverty. When half of the world overconsumes, is overweight, and wastes enough food to feed those impoverish countries, then something should be done to make sure that no one is left out.
*
We are lucky that we have choices that don't sacrifice our personal nourishment. We are lucky that we can sit here and discuss our privilege. Would we be talking about this if we were too busy hunting for food, whether in a trash can in the park, or across the savannah? It's not just money, it's not just choices, I certainly don't think it's material possessions or power. It takes an amazing person with something much more than the physical world to see life like the Zionist woman did [a South African Zionist woman, of grandmotherly age, who had to walk several miles to work every morning, and lived illegally with her son and his family in government housing, during Apartheid, and would joyfully sing praise to God. She was happy.]. It seems to me that it's much easier for us as humans to fall into material self-doubt, hatred and greed than find the good in every situation. Is that our culture, or our human nature? Or is that our next discussion topic?
-----
Poverty is real, privilege is real, and a greater equality - a greater global, social equality should be sought. We just need to fight the battle with as much self-awareness as possible. We need to be able to identify our human needs and our cultural needs, distinguish the two, and do our best to act in the best interests of both. It feels daunting, but necessary. Poverty and privilege are ideas, but they are also very real, and that while discussions are good, they must never lose sight of nor distract from this reality. It's a little clearer now... :)
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