Friday morning around 5am I was woken up by screaming and the beating of drums. It was Big Mama – the legendary ghost of a large woman who, despite her size, can leap and fly from great heights in a matter of seconds. Big Mama is a prank the upperclassmen play on the freshmen boys. Because Chuukese, and Micronesians more generally, are extremely suspicious, the prospect of ghosts is both tangible and horrifying. It’s one of the reasons power is allowed to stay on in the boys’ dorm past midnight while the rest of the campus retreats into pitch black. I’m not sure exactly what the Big Mama prank entails, but it sounded like the freshmen really fell for it. Big Mama is a tradition that ushers in newcomer orientation, which took up most of the Friday school day. I had one class before lunch, and afterwards, we gathered into the gym which had been transformed into a dining hall with a stage. The seniors decorated it with flowers and palm leaves, and it looked pretty spectacular despite the fact that it was brutally hot in there. We had lunch and the new faculty members were welcomed with mar’mars made out of individually wrapped candies. The performances were the highlight, and they lasted for four hours. In the first part of the show, sophomore, junior, and senior boys dressed up like women and impersonated the freshman girls. I can’t imagine high school boys in the states going to the extremes these boys did to make themselves look and sound convincing. I was really impressed and amused by their willingness, and eagerness, to cross-dress and perform “female.” It was such an interesting display of gender bending, but I’m really observing how different gender is conceived here in the first place. While there are relatively strict gender roles, and restrictions on what women can do, women are also seen as the strong hand in the family. Not only do they traditionally control the land, but they are considered conflict resolvers (for instance, one day a student’s bag was stolen by Ki – our resident thief – and instead of sending a security guard after him, one of the Chuukese female faculty went and just said to him ‘Give me that. It belongs to a student. He wants it back” and it was handed over with no problem. I know from just speaking and listening to some female students that there is a degree of repression felt by women here, but they are also in some ways authority figures. Even more interesting is how male affection is dealt with. Homosexuality is completely unacceptable, but it’s not uncommon for teenage males to hold hands or walk arm in arm. Yesterday while sitting in the rec house with some of the male students, I noticed one freshman boy laying his head in the lap of a sophomore boy, and two junior boys laying on the grass with their legs entwined. This would be unusual in the states, to say the least, but here male affection is not equivalent to homosexual behavior. They use “gay” as an insult frequently, but don’t always necessarily grasp what it means. Just the thought of two men or two women “being in love” is often too far outside the realm of their realities.

Aside from the cross-dressing, the show was pretty impressive even if it was a little long to sit through in its entirety. The students are phenomenal dancers, and performed traditional district dances (a Pohnepeian dance or a Palauan dance for example), hula, break dancing, and hip hop. Some of the junior and senior boys did fire throwing, and they wrote and performed their own little skits and songs, mostly dealing with freshmen and some of the new faculty (including myself). What I love most is seeing the students really work together to pull off something that means a lot to them. I don’t recall observing or experiencing that while I was in high school. There was a general lack of school spirit and an undercurrent of indifference for this kind of thing. The seniors weren’t terribly concerned with “welcoming” the freshmen and treating them as family and not just other students. It’s a whole different dynamic of closeness. There is definitely some tension among districts, and individual students as well, but in general I think the Xavier community is pretty impressive.

Saturday morning I woke up and played tennis and badminton with some of the other faculty and students. Afterwards, some of the teachers and one junior boy went swimming in the lagoon off the Japanese dock. I love going there – on the walk there which is sometimes tiring, you first smell this specific island flower (I forget the name) which I personally don’t like at all because it was used to make the mar’mars given to me on the day of my arrival in Chuuk and I smelled them all day long while wearing them. There’s also always the smell of gasoline from the boats and cars, and ALWAYS the smell of food cooking and a farmy kind of scent from the pigs and dogs, but at one particular point in the walk, there’s a overwhelming smell of the ocean – that salty, beachy smell even stronger than I’m used to. It makes me feel really relaxed and at home. I told the student that came with us that I love that smell and he just scrunched his nose and said he prefers the smell of gasoline because it reminds him of his home on an outer Yapese island. I thought it was interesting that I prefer the smell of the ocean while he prefers the smell of industry. We’re all looking for different things.

After we went swimming, we took the truck into town and ate at Truk Stop which I always look forward to. It’s a beautiful place, even if a little touristy (if anything can really be touristy on Chuuk). Because I’m still in a New York frame of mind, paying $12 or $13 for dinner is a cheap night out, but the other volunteers disagree. I think it’s partly because our stipends are only $60 a month and partly because after being here a while where everything is cheap relative to the states, you start perceiving value and cost differently. After dinner we went to the Pilipino community house across from Truk Stop and sang karaoke with Lily and her friends. We didn’t get home until around midnight. I was edgy the whole drive to and from town since on Thursday, the bus that takes the girls home was pachinkoed. We were stopped and I was sitting at the window seat asking myself why some students were getting under their seats. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an angry-looking man and then just heard a loud noise and felt glass on the back of my neck. The dart, a barbaric, primitive looking thing, landed in the hood of one of the female student’s sweatshirts just barely missing her head. It was a terrifying experience, and unfortunately one that is very common in Chuuk. The man was drunk, as is pretty customary for pay day Thursdays, and apparently pachinkoing cars as they passed by. We went to the police station and learned that several reports had already been made. He was eventually apprehended, but of course that didn’t make me feel any safer. This kind of violence happens often in Chuuk and while usually random is sometimes directed specifically at white people – especially if they’re being loud or disrespectful of Chuukese culture. I want to warn some of the western tourists that come to Xavier that they’re dressed inappropriately, but this is something I feel they already know and are largely indifferent about. Pachinkos have killed several people on Weno already – I think all Chuukese people, but this is the second time in less than a year Xavier vehicles have been hit. Our director wrote a letter to the governor of Chuuk demanding that some action be taken or else Xavier will move to the old PATS campus on Pohnpei, which part of me hopes happens. I like the life and status that Xavier infuses into Chuuk, but honestly it’s a very dangerous place, especially for western volunteers. Obviously it wouldn’t happen this year, but the possibility is promising, even if it is kind of tragic at the same time.

Today Stephanie and I took a walk to Penia Sine – a village about 2 miles away from Sapuk. Her host sister from Moch had spent the night so we were taking her home and at the same time going to Wichi, a waterfall by her house. The waterfall was behind some property near the edge of some jungle and was an absolutely gorgeous spot. The water was fresh, so it was cold (a welcome change from the heat of the Pacific). We arrived with Steph’s host sisters, but within a matter of minutes, we were flooded by groups of children from the village who LOVED my camera more than they loved actually swimming. Every few seconds I would hear the Chuukese “TSSS!” to get my attention so I could take another photo of yet another pose or the jumping off of a rock into the water below the falls. We swam for a while and then walked up to Steph’s host house where we sat outside, ate rice and mackerel off of a communal plate and talked (I mostly listened since I had a hard time understanding anything). We walked back to Sapuk with Kim, a Chuukese-American woman, and her friend to go to Joen’s house for coconuts, but he met us at the corner right before Xavier and handed them to us instead. Kim said it’s not unusual for men to be intimidated, or shy around, a group of girls especially when there are white girls.

I kept getting compliments on being attractive, mostly due to my skin. The Chuukese will say “you’re so pale” or “light-skinned” and it amounts to a standard of beauty. We have such a different conception of how skin should look in the West and it’s interesting that Westerns tan primarily to reduce the appearance of bodily faults, whereas Chuukese (and Micronesians in general) value whiteness because its linked to power and prestige. I’ve talked about this before, but it still fascinates me. It’s strange to be labeled exotic when you’ve spent your entire life in the category of ordinary.

School is going well. The kids are more used to me, which is good. It’s easy to get them to like you though, it’s not so easy to get them to respect you. I think I might have a way to go in that department – I’m so bad with discipline. Part of me feels like if I punish them, they’ll shut down and become disengaged. I’ve been trying to play games and use projects to stimulate their interest in class, but I’m not sure it works. I’m not even interested in letter grades, I want to hear more about how they think, or want to think. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to turn this into a college experience rather than a high school one for these kids, but I find myself so uninterested in memorization and rote learning. I never found that stuff important or long-lasting. At the same time, I feel like I’m trying to change something that can’t necessarily be changed.

I love living with everyone here, but I’m also realizing I need some time for myself. I woke up early this morning to do yoga on the roof, which provides a spectacular view of Xavier and of the ocean just beyond it. It was such a peaceful experience, but overwhelmingly hot. I’m going to try and do it after school just before dinner to wake my body up a little. I always need some energy at night, and I also need time to think things through for myself and be quiet in my own head.

After yoga I was sitting in my office doing some work when a white man whom I didn’t recognize came to the door. This is always cause for interest, but I realized quickly that he was a tourist, from Texas of all places. He wanted me to show him to the roof since Xavier is apparently famous for the view. There was a group of them outside waiting to be shown wear to go and I noticed immediately that the women were wearing tank tops and short shorts which is not only culturally inappropriate and disrespectful, it can be dangerous. I didn’t mention anything only because I’m positive they were made aware of this, but like most American tourists, believe that the rules don’t apply to them. They were on Chuuk for the scuba/snorkeling experience, not necessarily to actually see Chuuk which is made apparent by the fact that all white people who come here stay either at Truk Stop or Blue Lagoon – hotel/resorts on the edge of the island. This is kind of sad to me since these people don’t actually get the Chuuk experience. No Chuukese person lives in a hotel; far from it. I personally think they would get more out of staying with a host family and seeing how Chuuk actually exists, but this isn’t a lucrative business. Instead they bypass all the uncivilized “unpleasantness” and focus only on the version most appealing to them – the one that specifically caters to Western visitors who aren’t actually interested in visiting.

Yesterday was the first day of classes. It wasn’t as rough as I expected it to be, but it was definitely no cake walk either. I can tell that the students are good kids, but they can also be rowdy and indifferent. This is a dangerous combination for me since, while I have a list of strict-sounding rules, discipline is not my strongest area. As I was explaining to another volunteer who tried to assuage my uncertainty, it’s hard to feel like you’re making any kind of a difference when you’re met with laziness, disruption, and apathy. It doesn’t help that Ki, Xavier’s latest Sapukian thief, ran around all day stealing things from the classrooms which seems futile since there is hardly anything in them to steal. I taught five classes today, and in only one room was there a desk for me. There was no chalk in any of the rooms and most of the students’ desks are falling apart. There aren’t enough books to go around, so students have to share, even for homework. I tried to accentuate the need for discussion, community, and questioning in my classes, but the general consensus is that speaking up (to answer questions) is not very popular. Micronesians are brought up thinking that answering questions in class or raising your hand is indicative of arrogance and showing off. Eye contact and individualization are discouraged, as is initiative. As such, they work well together in groups and with direct memorization, but have a difficult time formulating their own opinions and critically thinking about things. Inference and analysis are not strong for Micronesians, and impatience can be tempting. What IS frustrating is the sense of laziness and apathy I sometimes feel from the students. I’ve heard that the students love to be at Xavier, but hate to be in class. I already have very little idea what I’m doing, so getting a vibe of indifference makes what I have to do even more difficult. So far I feel like a very boring and unpopular teacher – the work I give seems to be too hard for them and they don’t understand a lot of the concepts we go over more than once. Getting them to speak up is like pulling teeth, though the lack of vocal responses doesn’t necessarily point to a lack of interest since they aren’t socialized to learn that way... but this is hard for me to come to terms with as a person who grew up in a culture where competition is key. Just as unfamiliar to me is the Micronesian way of responding to questions asked directly to them. Micronesians focus a lot of communication in their facial expressions. A raise of the eyebrows, in a manner Americans might construe as confusion or a bad attitude, simply means “yes.”

A lot of Chuukese customs are unfamiliar to me. Some boys (I think Yapese) get up from sitting every time I walk past them. It seems like an out-of-date tradition to westerners, but it actually has a completely different connotation. Women’s souls are said to be stronger and so if men remain seated when a woman walks by, men fear that their soul will get crushed. This has origins in Micronesian matriarchal tradition it’s almost a shame to watch it undergo a kind of demise at the hands of Westernization. Matriarchy in Micronesia has been compromised but not completely quelled. One of the Micronesian staff here says that Micronesian women are often taught to suck it up, though most of them are the silent stronghands of the family. This is a strange dichotomy, but one I’m very eager to observe once I get a host family.

I’m trying to get more integrated into Chuukese culture, but it’s difficult at Xavier which is such a Westernized haven. I’m learning little things everyday though – this past weekend, I learned how to grind coconut in order to make the milk. It’s basically done by sitting on a square stool that has a metal claw-like tool sticking out of it and scraping in a particular fashion. I thought I was pretty good at it until I watched someone who really knew what they were doing and had it finished in less than half the time. Additionally, I AM in search of a host family to take me in on some weekends. Xavier is so entirely different than the rest of Chuuk, yet also vastly different than most American schools. The boys stay in a dorm while the girls commute everyday from host families in town. The boys wake up every day around 6 to do “morning glory” – manual labor around campus. Physical punishment is encouraged (not corporal punishment like hitting, more like running laps or being put on Saturday labor). Students are given push-ups or jumping jacks for using profanity, or “disrespectful language” or even by speaking their own languages (for various reasons I don’t fully agree with, being a anthro-linguistics major, English is the only language allowed on campus). What’s most shocking to me is observing how well the boys accept their punishments and required manual work. Except at boot camp, I can’t visualize American students being expected to or consenting to perform this kind of work while at school. The purpose is two-fold – there isn’t enough money to pay for more day workers , and the general consensus is that the students at Xavier need to be humbled. Often you’ll hear how spoiled the Pohnpeians are or how bratty the Palauan kids can be, but it’s hard for me to imagine any of these students actually being spoiled in the way I conceive of the word. There is so little, even on Pohnpei, to be spoiled with.

Despite generalizations made about certain islanders, the valences of power and privilege are most often attributed to white people. It’s a whole different perspective being viewed as exotic – people stare at you wherever you go, children follow you, excited and wanting to talk to you, people smile and wave and wonder about you like you’re a celebrity which is honestly how it feels sometimes. Whiteness is not only rare, it is valuable often constructing westerners as people who would be important friends and easy targets. While most islanders find white people both striking and fascinating, in different ways, violence is also often centered around westerners. I’ve been in the midst of Filipino dart shooters – people who shoot hooked darts at their victims. This is one reason white people are discouraged from going out at night, another is robbery. White people are automatically assumed to have more, which is usually true. While most violence is not directed at white people (probably because there are so few of us here and clan/gang violence is the most prevalent kind), being white makes you stand out (so much so that upon seeing a westerner I didn’t recognize in town, I asked another volunteer “who’s that white guy?”) which can be both a positive and a negative thing. After an entire life of being the majority and the default, being one of the very few white people on Chuuk makes you reconsider your worldview. To have people stare at you and children follow you around (sometimes expecting candy or some change) is something that’s so shocking for me. The difference is, while most definitely in the minority, you are still assumed to have the upper hand in many ways. Tonight we had a faculty meeting, just for the white volunteers (American and Australian) in which we were asked to try and tone ourselves down because we were overwhelming the Micronesian faculty and students. It’s such an egocentric thing not to be conscientious of the people whose land you inhabit, but this is also such an American thing – even more so when you realize that you didn’t even notice this was going on. Like in many places around the world, whiteness is a commodity as well as a forceful identity. While out in the Mortlocks (islands outside the reef) this summer, Stephanie got a tan and was genuinely asked “won’t your mother be mad for making your skin ugly?” This type of thinking is both so foreign to us, since tanning in considered a form of aesthetics, but simultaneously, and paradoxically, not far off from how we think of ourselves – as superior and culturally omniscient just by virtue of our westerness and our whiteness.