ok ok ok photos

The occasion for this most recent four-day weekend is/are the "Kosrae games." It is like the Olympics, but way more important. Each village on the island competes at canoe racing, volleyball, baseball, basketball, and track & field. Wednesday night was the basketball final at the (only) gym, and at least half the island's population was in attendance. I couldn't tell if I was at a game or a concert; instead of (in addition to?) cheering by yelling and screaming, the fans cheer by singing, and everybody knows the songs, and everybody sings them very loudly, and it is so cool.

So here are some photos of the canoe races.

The Lelu team (my village!) against the backdrop of the Sleeping Lady (head on the right, sleeping on her back). The mountain silhouette gives the island its nickname.






















The girl who sat on my lap for about an hour. At the track meet yesterday, one of my students was walking around holding a baby. I was really impressed at how naturally and intimately he was holding it (this is a music student who spends most of class time wielding his ukulele like a machete); the baby half asleep on his shoulder, the student gently rocking it back and forth. "Who's that?" I asked him. "I don't know, just some baby who was looking at me like he wanted me to pick him up," he responded and then walked off.
That's pretty much how babies work around here.








A glamor shot and also a typical hairstyle.


















More children.





























My student who looks like Butchie!!


















And that is all for now.

in this belly of a whale

The other day I saw a tuna as big as a couch.

Two things have come into my life and made it infinitely better: a hammock and a class set of textbooks.

The hammock now lives in between two of the three palm trees in our backyard, right where the ocean breeze blows. My new favorite activity is lying in the hammock and thinking about how busy my life used to be, and also how from directly underneath palm fronds look like giant stalks of celery.
Maybe someday when I am busy I will think about lying in the hammock.
Anyway, it is a great hammock.

The class set of textbooks is equally exciting. I came across about 40 almost brand new environmental science books. I'm teaching geography, but they are close enough. And now they are in my classroom. And I was so visibly excited about announcing this to my students that they now think textbooks are cool. Hooray. The discovery coincided nicely with the beginning of second quarter, too, such that I may even pass for appearing quasi-organized.

Teaching is still going well. My big secret is that I really like my students. Their big secret is that they let me keep thinking they don't know that. Second quarter will fly by because there are only six weeks in it, only two of which are full five-day weeks. Then next semester will probably fly by in the way that premature nostalgia makes things fly by. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lie in my hammock.

Happy fall, New Englanders!

And happy Homecoming, Amherst! Eat some tea rolls for me.

The next post will be full of photos.

Sam

My Year of Self-Improvement

whistling: check

riding a bike with no hands: ch-ch-ch-check

blue in green

Things have begun to feel oddly normal around here lately. This really means I've changed to the point where things have begun to feel normal around here, which probably means that it will be strange to be elsewhere after this, but that is not a problem for right now.

One thing that still feels foreign is how everyone is at the mercy of the weather. It's still the dry season here (so it only rains about once a day), but when it rains it really rains. Like, it rains too hard to have a conversation, or to see anything, or to sleep. Sometimes it feels like someone very large is hanging out in the clouds with a bucket and a hairdryer. Anyway. When that happens, you just stay inside (or under a tree) and wait, and then it stops, and that's just that.
Maybe 'at the mercy of' conveys the wrong idea. Maybe it's more that the weather very much informs daily activities. Sunny days are perfect for hang-drying clothes, so everyone does laundry. Vaguely overcast days are good for biking around and buying food. On rainy days many of my students coincidentally stay home with headaches. etc.

Even though the island is small, there's still a lot left of it to explore. I sometimes have to remind myself of this when I've spent half the day in bed reading, but that is what Sundays are for. Yesterday my roommate and I biked to the marina by the airport for a friend's birthday barbecue, and watched the sunset over the water from inside the water. I should post more photos. The next entry will be for photos.

The latest winner of my students' inappropriate t-shirts contest was a shirt that read: Why go to high school, when you can go to school high?

At least it was sort of clever.

Ok, time to go grade some (really really really cool) poster projects. One of the big highlights of my stay here has been receiving letters in the mail, so if you are looking for a way to fill some free time, write to me! My address is:

Sam Hesni c/o WorldTeach
PO Box 419
Kosrae, Federated States of Micronesia 96944

note

I must post because just now I successfully whistled for the first time in my life. There were no witnesses, but it happened. So now you know that even though I haven't blogged in a few weeks, I have been busy working towards very important things.

Things are going well. In the spirit of October, we had a gloriously overcast day yesterday, so that was a nice change. The first quarter of school is coming to a close, and my music kids are putting on a concert this Friday, and the cat that lives outside our house had kittens, and the store by our house has papaya again, and life is good.

no rain, no rainbows

Two months, and I've been getting used to all the new sounds here. Herons make a sound like something in between a gurgle and a meow. Geckos chirping sound like something in between a giggle a screech. Frogs sound like nothing until you step on one barefoot in the middle of the night while going outside to get drinking water from the catchment, and then they sound like squish.
It was bound to happen.

School is going well. The Department of Education here has a secret stash of ukuleles, which was exciting to discover. They have since migrated to my classroom. I've instituted a rule that my non-music students may play the instruments before class, so most mornings I get serenaded before the school day starts.

Last Thursday the island celebrated Liberation Day with church, food, games, and canoe racing. My big contribution was racing in a canoe without capsizing. The racing is an all-day event, where hundreds of people take turns racing in 5 6-person canoes. While the races are going on, everyone else sings (and sometimes dances). It is pretty awesome. There is so much music everywhere.

Recently, I've felt like things have just begun to become normal (i.e. I am becoming more acquainted and used to everything here) until they stop being so. For example, yesterday I tried out a new laundromat a little further away from our house, and while waiting for my clothes to dry decided to go read on the beach. Walking to the beach, I found myself thinking, "wow, this is a long walk to the beach. I wonder if it's worth it," then stopped to remind myself that this long walk takes approximately six minutes.
Or coming home to hear our three-year old neighbor calling "Sameeea, Sameeea!" the way she usually does when I walk in or out of the house, and turning to see her standing naked on top of a car.
Or meeting the woman in charge of ukuleles and learning that her name is Mona Lisa.

Ok, time to grab my big anti-dog stick and head to school!

there's the part you've braced yourself against

Last night I dreamed that I shoplifted a pizza.

Dreams have been on my mind a lot recently -- probably because I have been sleeping so much. During my first year of college I had a recurring dream that I had to go back and complete another year of high school. This feels a little like that. High school is high school everywhere, and Micronesia and Cairo are similar in many ways. I haven't had an identity crisis yet, but it is still a little bit unsettling at times. The reassuring thing, however, is that my students think that I was born in 1972.

Outside of school, things are still beautiful and peaceful. There is a vague effort on the part of the police department (all four members) to cull some of the more aggressive feral dogs -- this only sounds sad until you have been chased down by a pack of them. So now instead of swerving to avoid dogs in the road, drivers swerve to hit them. It is unclear whether this is any more dangerous than the status quo.

Liberation Week (next week) has been shortened to Liberation Thursday-and-Friday, so there are three extra (!) days of school this quarter. One of them will be a party, because I can decide things like that, because I am the teacher and I said so. Ha, power trip trumps identity crisis. Or maybe this is what happens when you don't know which mentality -- student or teacher -- to harbor. Or maybe parties are good things and that is all.

These are our three dogs: Saddam (front), Bobo (right) and the neighbor's puppy who answers to "oh hi!" That is our house in the background. If you look carefully you can see the "OPEN" sign in the far window, leftover from the glory days of motel-dom.



Happy Sunday/Saturday!

School has been in session for two weeks, and I almost know the names of all of my students. I've assigned some of them alter-identities for mnemonic purposes: the kid who looks like my brother, the student who is really a dinosaur (the spiked hair), the one who looks like a miniature Michael Jackson... Yesterday little MJ sung his way through a quiz, and I held it together, but just barely.

There is a holiday on average once a week here. Last week we had Friday off to celebrate Gospel Day: the day the missionaries arrived on the island. There were games, singing, and some pretty excellent reenactments. The missionaries came from Massachusetts, so I got extra points. Next week Tuesday is off just because, then the week after is Liberation Week. In honor of the FSM's independence from their trust territory status, we will have a week of festivals and canoe racing. (Yesterday we were courteously told by a volunteer's host parents that it's difficult for white people to steer canoes, so not to worry if we do badly.)

So the part of me that's been a student for as long as I can remember is thrilled about all these holidays.

The idea was to segue into a conversation of church but let's just pretend that happened. The island is very religious, sort of. Everybody goes to church on Sunday. But it is also illegal to do anything but go to church (and rest) on Sunday. And Saturday is the weekend, which means nothing much goes on on Saturday. So... by the time Sunday comes around, my mindset at least is "well yesterday was nice and relaxing. And I'm obligated to do nothing today... I might as well go to church for an hour and listen to the awesome singing." And I think it might be that I'm not alone in thinking that.
Also, the pastors run for election (for pastorate) on the same ballot as the mayors and senators run for their positions.

Because the school day is so short, and because we are encouraged to volunteer elsewhere on the island, I'm going to start working with this organization: http://kosraeconservation.org/ . Specifically, I'm going to help out with the marine biodiversity project, part of which includes reef monitoring via scuba diving. Hooray!




(the sunset, five minutes from our house)

this is how I roll

That was the caption on a student's shirt the other day -- a shirt that featured a roll of toilet paper. Teaching is going well! The students are hilarious but respectful and love being asked what they think, so things look good. Stories soon.

Someone made the irrefutable point the other day that if I'm to blog about all the free time I have here, I should spend some time blogging about what it's like here. So... here is what things are like.

Tuesday.

5:28 am -- Anticipate alarm going off in two minutes as your room lights up as the sun rises over the ocean between palm fronds right outside the window. Wish for 20/20 vision. Turn off the fan so that a. you have more incentive to get out of bed and b. the cold shower becomes more attractive.

5:30 -- Alarm goes off. Roosters are crowing. Silence the alarm. Roosters keep crowing. Wonder why they're still crowing -- you've already gotten out of bed. Realize they are roosters, not alarm clocks. Wander outside to plug in the water pump. The water pump is surrounded by a dozen or so hand-sized spiders keeping vigil from their webs. Almost appreciate your lack of 20/20 vision. Grab the section of PVC pipe on the ground to poke at the spider sitting on the plug, watch it scurry away. Plug in the water pump.

Shower, etc.

6-6:30ish -- Bike to school. Spend the first mile on a causeway with the Pacific sunrise to your right and the mountains to your left. Slow down, think about how beautiful it is, think about how you should take a photo except that you're on a bike but someday you'll take a photo. Turn left at the end of the causeway as you make your way into Tofol, the capital. Start to watch out for dogs. Turn the music up on your ipod because the dog barks are actually much scarier than the dogs themselves. Say hi to your students waiting for their bus. Keep going as you remember that this part always takes longer than you think it does. Bike past several small food kiosks and bakeries as they open for the day. Make sure that the music on your ipod isn't so loud that you can't hear cars passing you.

7-7:30ish -- Arrive at the high school! Lock up your bike, walk (gingerly; it's been raining all night and everything is slippery) up to your classroom on the third floor. This is particularly exciting because it is the only third floor on the island. The principal calls it "the sky." Only juniors and seniors have class on the third floor because it is too dangerous for the younger students to be up there. Go over the lesson plan for the day. Try to switch on the lights and fan, but realize there is no power just yet. Pull a skirt on over your pants, because women have to teach in skirts. Take your time walking back downstairs, cross a muddy field of high grass to the big plastic water catchman behind the high school. Pass by a series of catchmen attached to the high school that are unsafe for drinking (see postscript), say hi to whomever, go back to your classroom, wait for your students.

8:30 -- Students walk in, class begins, huzzah, etc. They sit there and learn things, maybe, and then leave.

1:40 -- School's out. Decide to search for papaya. Bike away from home for a while. Stop at a few stores. Ask for papaya. No papaya. Keep going. "Oh, you just missed one!" you are told. But this particular store owner grabs a big stick and crosses the street to his house, jabs at a papaya tree for a while, then hands you the fallen papaya (hooray!). He then tells informs you that you are obliged to keep shopping at his store, which is fine. Bike back valiant with papaya in tow.

2:30 -- Realize you are home and the day is done and it is 2:30. A good time to relax. Take a cold shower.

3:15 -- All done relaxing. Ride your bike to the super beautiful beach three miles north of your house. Plan to watch the sunset there and bike back.

3:50 -- Rainstorm. Which you should have anticipated, because it hasn't rained yet today. Also because of the clouds. Take shelter under a thatched roof by the beach. Wait for the rain to subside. Bike back. Savor the feeling of being cold.

4:30 -- Arrive back home. Cold shower. Read. Think about lesson planning for the next day, before realizing that you've already finished planning for the week. Write some letters. Think about the feasibility of having someone mail you vacuum-packed cheddar. Think about all the other things you'd like people to mail you. Stare out at the ocean.

5 -- Take a walk.

6 -- Spend a surprising amount of time watching the puppy chase a frog around your backyard. Play volleyball with the neighbors' kids. Think about dinner. Waste time online.

7 -- Dinner. Unplug the water pump, say goodnight to the spiders.

7:05 -- Skype, read, clean, etc.

8-9ish -- Go to bed

2 am -- Be woken up by the loudest thunder you've ever heard. Feel momentarily homesick. Attempt to switch on the lights. Realize the power is out. Resort to your flashlight. Realize there isn't much to look at. Fall back asleep, listening to the pounding of coconuts falling off their trees.

Wednesday

6 -- Wake up. Still raining. No power, no shower. Be glad that at least you don't have to plug in the water pump today. Start to walk to school. Think about how you should ask someone to mail you a rain jacket. Get offered a ride when you're halfway across the causeway. Engage in small talk with the benevolent driver. Comment on his flawless English. Learn that he lived in New York for ten years while he was the ambassador to the United Nations. Well, that is cool.

6:30 -- Get dropped off at school. Sit around and read for the next two hours.

8:30 -- Five out of 25 students show up to first period. The others are on the bus that is late. Give them a task to fill the time until the rest of the students show up at 9. Class is over at 9:15. Realize you forgot to change out of your pants. Oh well.

1:40 -- Walk over to the "electricity building" to buy "cash power" -- kilowatt hours for your house. Pass by the police station on your left and notice they've trimmed the grass outside their building to read KOSRAE POLICE STATION. Think about how this is an impressive task, given that there are only four police officers on the island, the chief of which is named Robin Hood, which shouldn't have anything to do with their landscaping abilities, but is a good fact nonetheless. Get cash power. Linger because the building is excellently air conditioned. Leave reluctantly.

2:20 -- You are still not home because you don't have your bike, although it is not raining anymore. Hear a truck slow down as it passes you and the driver yells, "Hey Sammy, want a ride?" (Your name can't be Sam here because Sam is a boy's name and a last name but not a girl's name. Samia is complicated, but Sammy is ok.) It is Nixon, the papaya man. Jump in the back of his pick-up truck (be thankful for pants). Ride home in style.

2:45 -- You're home, etc. Do what you did yesterday. Bake some cookies. Go on a rampage and kill some mosquitoes. Read, write, walk around, bike around, do yoga, take some cold showers, etc., etc., etc.



ps. a funny story about water (mom you can now stop reading):

The principal of the school is named Talutson Isaac. He is an excellent person, and always in the best of spirits. On the first day of school, he announced to us that the water in the catchmen was unsafe to drink, but not to worry: his brother, Isaac Isaac, is an excellent contamination specialist who would soon restore the integrity of the water.
Yesterday, my roommate Ben ran into said Isaac Isaac.
"Ben, nice to meet you. Do you know..... Rick?" Isaac asks. Rick is our field director here.
"Yes."
"Do you live with him?"
"No."
"Do you talk with him?"
"Sometimes."
"When you talk with him, tell him..... His water is very bad."
"Ok."
"Very, very bad. Not safe to drink."
"Ok."
"Soooo much E. Coli!" (said with the same sort of surprise satisfaction you would use to talk about the "sooo many stars" you saw on a particularly cloudless night, or the "sooo many people" who wished you happy birthday. sort of like that)

Actually, Ben hasn't told Rick yet. I should probably go do that.

geckos

This morning as I swept rat poop and dead crickets out of my classroom, I thought about how I am here -- in a different way from being other places. The problem is I still can't figure out how to describe it. It's something like a distinct lack of "and then" or "so that later" to being here and to the things I do here. There are deadlines, but there is so much time to meet them that (for the first time?) they are stresslessly achievable. Maybe the feeling is a lack of urgency. Whatever it is, it's contagious, and I'm going to say that it was here before I was. And mostly, it is super pleasant. Sometimes -- once, on a rainy day -- it feels like being on a very long train ride, but in general it feels like being somewhere without needing to be anywhere else.

Tomorrow is the first day of school. So maybe that will be the end of this pleasantly purgatorial phase. (But maybe not; my workday goes from 8:30-1:30 with an hour-long break.) In any case, it will be exciting and probably a little intimidating and all those other things. So here goes!

bananino

salt air like a broadcast

7/28

Today I cleaved open a coconut using a machete and I kept all my fingers.

It's been close to two weeks and I think I have learned a lot -- about the language, history, etc., of Kosrae. But only a little about the culture. It is complicated and will take a while.
Even with 9 hour days of Orientation, there is a ridiculous amount of time. All the time I never had in college and high school was here all along. Here with all the frogs ever.

So it has been good so far. The start date of school has been pushed back to August 15, and I will teach geography and music to juniors and seniors. Ok. It still feels like high school was too recent for me to be teaching it, but maybe I will just grow old really quickly.

I miss friends and I miss Quesadilla Friday, but here is a good place to be. There is still so much that is surprising -- people eat their dogs, but not their chickens; everyone is into either Eminem or Elvis (but never both); coconuts from the sky; I have to dodge giant crabs while biking to school. It's something like a bizarre time warp, or a dream where things are just familiar enough to make the dreamstate ambiguous.
At some point, I will/should/hope to use all the aforementioned time for thinking. But for now I think I will just acknowledge and maybe even squander it.

8/1

I am now with home. My roommates Lizzy, Ben and I live in a converted motel fifty yards (fewer?) from the ocean. We have two coconut trees in our backyard and a dog named Saddam in the front. Saddam is a big bully who barks and barks when we go near, in, or out of the house, but he is a sucker for being petted and asked how much he likes the scratches.
I will be the first to get fleas.

i drink my water when it rains

oh hi!
i am here, i guess. and it is pretty incredible. i don't have internet access, really, for the next few weeks, but here is a brief update. kosrae exists. it is either a real thing, or nothing else is. it is pretty much exactly how you would imagine a 20 square mile tropical island in the middle of the south pacific. it is half rainforest and half coast. there are frogs everywhere. it rains everyday, and that is the drinking water. everyone is kind and knows everything about everyone, most people are happy, there are coconuts everywhere, the best way to open one is with a machete, papayas are in fact delicious, sharks don't bite, flowers are as big as your face, all stores carry spam, and there is one road.
school starts in two weeks, so until then it's learning how to teach and learning about the island. highlights have included a 4-hour barefoot hike (read: trudge through the mud) into tropical rainforest and snorkeling among coral and stingrays and more fish than could possibly exist. i haven't seen so many different forms of life since playing the animal planet computer game when i was six years old. woo, biodiversity.
send me your address and i will write you a letter and if you want a postcard then you get one of those too.
photos as soon as i can get internet on my computer.
thanks fo readin!
love,
sam

because I don't like goodbyes:

Hello! This is my online persona. The idea is that I will blog about my upcoming 11 months in Kosrae, Micronesia. I am unsure as to how this will turn out, given that I don't like it when people read what I write (go away), but oh well, maybe I will just post photos. Here is something like a photo, in that it is a map.



Good thing I am teaching geography.

Here is a more accessible photo. I will be living on this island within an island.


This is my mailing address.

c/o WorldTeach
P.O. Box 419
Kosrae, Federated States of Micronesia (FM)
96944

Write me!

- Sam