Radicals, and the Spirits that Follow Them

Seems like it’s time for my brief, biweekly update :)
These past two weeks have been semi productive in terms of work, but I’m still wishing that things would move faster. Our project has technically begun, even in the absence of crucial funding. Euke and I have been trying to set up meetings and interviews with various women and women’s groups around the island, but it’s proven to be extremely difficult. I think everyone knows that domestic violence is a major issue on the island, but no one wants to talk about it and even activist women’s groups are hesitant to begin a dialogue.

It’s difficult to pinpoint why domestic violence is such a prevalent problem here. Theories include that because there are no laws against it, there is no communal mindset that explicitly frames it as wrong. Yet I refuse to believe that so many men elsewhere would beat their partners just because there was an absence of legislation regarding abuse. People also blame alcohol, which is a major social issue here as well, but again there has to be something deeper affecting the emotional and mental core of abusers. Sociologically, it seems as though people here feel like they are in a confused limbo, somewhere between struggling to remain traditional and struggling to adequately enter the modern global community, but don’t know how to identify and manage such feelings. As such, men are still theoretically expected to be the protectors of the family, but their role is upset by more women joining the workforce. The extended family, which used to be the main source of support and community, has broken down as more and more people move around and engage in marriages that have not been arranged or sanctioned by the family. The demands are great on both partners to make sure the family succeeds, but the economy is poor, and without the traditional structures of the family, both men and women are puzzled as to what their roles are, and how to adequately fulfill them in an environment in which they are basically designed to fail. Often, men and women both work, and men who are socialized into believing that they need to be the ones supporting the family economically are often outshone by their more industrious, enterprising wives and feel jealous and emasculated. Men who do work often find conflict and misunderstandings in their workplace, and because they cannot take out their frustration on their colleagues or bosses, they take it out on their partners at home.
The communication between husband and wife is also very lacking. Euke mentioned to me that discussing things related to feelings and emotions is often taboo, and partners do not usually discuss the things that are bothering them; things they would like to see changed in the family or things that are frustrating them. As such, men may feel as though they have no safe outlet for their aggravation which leads them to violence.
Obviously, none of these explanations are excuses. There is a tendency to blame culture; as in because it is a dominating, patriarchal society where women have less rights men feel that their wives are property. Of course patriarchy was only introduced as a result of Westernization and Christianity (thanks again guys) as traditionally, many Micronesian societies were more matriarchal or at least primed towards a more egalitarian approach where men and women had very defined, yet equal roles. In fact, most of the women I’ve talked to thus far site the bible as reason why men should be in charge and women underneath them. It is a sentiment which Euke herself expresses, and one that makes me cringe and only fuels my distaste and my conviction that religion is actively detrimental to social progress. In my opinion, it’s impossible to achieve an end to something as insidious as domestic violence if you don’t believe in the inherent equality of the victim. Misogyny, for me, is loosely defined by making generalizations about women; lumping us all into one group full of bad assumptions and stereotypes. To define women by their inferiority to men is obviously sexist, regardless of whether or not its “religious” and until this insulting and harmful frame of mind is obliterated I don’t think there’s any hope for achieving a universally safe atmosphere for women.
The notion that such violence here is cultural is one that is both vague and naïve. To assert that domestic violence has always been a part of Micronesian culture is assuming one thing while denying another: assuming, and in a way excusing, violence against women as a product of a primitive and ignorant people, and denying the similar abuse that saturates Western culture as well. It has been shown that domestic violence here is getting worse and worse. Traditionally, extended families, the same ones that are currently unraveling, have been the glue of the entire community. They acted as the protection for women, and the support of individual, nuclear families. Marriages were often arranged, and were usually dependent on family ties and lineage. If there was an incident of abuse, women would take their children and run to their family’s house, or their brothers would come and take them away. This was a source of major disgrace and anxiety for the husband and his family, and if he wanted his wife back, he had to make a great display of apology and humility. The entire family would bring gifts and food and present them respectfully to the family of the wife. If the husband made a grand gesture of regret, and the wife conceded to go back, the wife’s family would demand a promise that it would not happen again or next time she wouldn’t return. In this way, such abuse was handled and kept in check in a way which today, it is not. Obviously, this traditional system was not perfect, and obviously it’s not meant to make light of the suffering of women in the past, but it also shows that abuse was taken seriously and was not something accepted or condoned. Unfortunately these traditional systems have been broken down, and there are no systems in place to curb domestic abuse. Although families are able to protect women less and less, domestic violence is still considered a family problem, and the women I’ve spoken with said that it’s a question of minding your business: it’s just a part of family life, and it should not be anyone else’s concern. Abuse is disgraceful and humiliating, and thus women are embarrassed to discuss it or to admit that they have been abused. Leaving your husband and your family is immensely shameful, and most women here would not even consider it because it would mean excommunication from their family, and even potentially from their church. Women are hesitant to call the police because they are afraid of losing dignity in their communities, and more afraid of retribution from their husbands. Since there are no laws against domestic violence, abusers are not jailed for any significant amount of time and afterwards are free to return home to their wives. All of these factors combined make it an almost impossible endeavor for women to escape this vicious cycle of abuse.
In the meetings I’ve had so far, it is apparent that women are afraid; many of them say they know word travels quickly here, and they don’t want any men to find out what they’ve been talking about. It often feels like some major conspiracy in which women are forced to keep silent. The whole point of this project is to begin a dialogue about violence, and allow women to tell their stories and begin to heal – but this seems the most difficult part. It is obvious to me that they want to get it out, but fear is holding them back. Some of the stories I have heard are absolutely terrifying, material straight out of a horror movie. I can’t post most of them, because they are meant to be confidential, but I can share one particularly gruesome story that became infamous in the public. A few years ago, a woman moved to the Mortlocks (outer islands of Chuuk) after marrying a Mortlockese man who ended up abusing her. Because this was not an arranged marriage, or one approved of by the families, the woman had no protection against this abuse. Finally one day, this man’s rage exploded and he sashimied his wife alive, carving deep cuts into her leg and cutting out the skin and muscle. He put salt and sand into the wounds, and although the woman was still alive when she was finally taken to a medical center, she eventually died from bleeding and infection. This is one of the worst stories I have heard so far, and although it is often told me with an air of tragedy or outrage, other stories of women whose husbands pull their hair or slap them in the face or give them black eyes or force them into sex are told with haunting nonchalance. If I express shock or disgust, women just shake their heads as if to say “this is just how it is,” though I know they don’t actually believe that. Women who are socialized to believe that they are less than their male counterparts are trapped in a prison of false identity. They are made to believe this ideology, but already I know from some of my discussions, some are yearning and struggling for a way out. If you are not inferior, how can you truly believe that you are? In any case, it will be a long road; one that won’t even be finished being paved by the time I leave in December.

One other interesting thing concerning work is the possession video we watched last week. Some of the staff here are working on a video about old religions and spirits, and one of them has a video that someone gave him of a spirit possession in Pohnpei. Possessions are apparently not uncommon here, and usually occur in young women. The notion of spirit possession existed before Christianity, and now I think with ideas like demons, the devil, and exorcisms, the concept has become a little conflated but still present. One woman here was upset because her female relative is currently possessed by at least 30 different spirits, and she wanted holy water to cleanse her, but her family wanted to hear what the spirits had to say. Usually, the spirits are those of dead relatives (most often male) that speak through their mediums, frequently about conflicts or troubles within the family and how to resolve them. The current theory is that females, especially young ones who feel they have no voice, subconsciously utilize this mechanism to release their frustrations and speak their minds through the spirit of a dead male authority figure who will be listened to by the family. Anyway this video was pretty chilling – a young girl was lying on the floor of her house, her female relatives holding her and stroking her hair and arms. She was completely inert and seemed almost in a trance. Eventually, she started shrieking and gurgling, screaming in a deep, gravelly voice. Her relatives were asking her in Pohnpeian who the spirit was and what it wanted. Apparently, according to Euke who was translating for us, the girl was not speaking any language that was familiar to her relatives – it was neither Pohnpeian nor Chuukese and sounded to her like a Kiribati language. Either way, the family could not understand this girl, who was screaming and fiercely writhing on the floor. The family at first tried pouring holy water on her, but it had no effect so they tried rubbing local medicine on her instead. The girl seemed to have phases of being very still and stiff and quiet on the floor but would then explode into a frenzy of yelling, shaking, and at some points unleashing a deep and sinister laugh. At times she seemed to welcome the touches of her family members, and at other times she violently rejected them, shaking until her dress loosened and fell down from her chest, clutching severely at her female relatives as they tried to cover her up again. The video ended with no resolution, and it was strange to imagine a young girl’s day spent this way. I don’t know that much about possessions here so I wonder how long it takes for them to get over it, if they ever do, and if some of them willingly “invite” the personalities of these spirits so that they can actually have a say in their family, or if it’s something that happens on a higher, less understood level. As anyone who has ever read my blog before can probably assume, I don’t actually believe in spirits or spirit possessions and in fact find the deeper social meanings behind them much more interesting than the banal notion that evil, devilish little creatures can actually inhabit and play puppet master to a human body.

My work right now is probably the most interesting thing I’ve been doing so far. I know that weekends are meant to be relaxing, but sometimes they just get too stagnant. 2 Fridays ago I went to a restaurant called Coco Marina with the JVIs. I had sadly already eaten dinner which was really too bad since the food there looked delicious. The restaurant is outside, under a thatched roof right by the water, and would be a nice place to go and have a drink and just read or write letters. This was plan for this past Saturday, and I was joined by Dickson, our young Yapese priest in training. We decided to walk which was a bad idea since I slipped, inexplicably just as I walked over a patch of water on some rocks. Obviously I fell flat on my back. Of course, the nail in the coffin was that I was wearing a skirt and a slip which ended up totally around my waist completely exposing my underwear. Immediately the notions of taboos and sacred spaces and shame and dishonor came rushing towards me all at once, and I felt mortified. I think back home I would have been embarrassed but could have laughed it off and let it go, but here the context and the reactions are so vastly different. Needless to say we didn’t make it to the restaurant and I spent the better part of my day in my room trying to sleep off the sore muscles. Yesterday was decidedly better – I went to the Village for brunch which has become a new tradition of mine. I love to go there and listen to people and stare at the gorgeous view. There is internet access, so I can focus my time on writing emails and skyping, and if no one happens to be online, write some letters or postcards. This weekend I had a coconut and crab oscar, which I had never heard of before really but is kind of like eggs benedict with crab and cheese and is absolutely delicious. Afterwards I suited up for yoga at the College of Micronesia campus which felt really good. It was nice to meet some new people and get some stretching in especially since my muscles felt so sore after falling. I’m hoping to get out a little more next weekend, but have just realized there is some religious party/ceremony thing happening right outside my house on Saturday night which I’m less than happy about. The more I live here, the more I’m convinced Saturday nights are not good for anything but tea, books, and sleep.

Lydia's creepy creature interactions

This will be a short blog, and not really an update which I’ll try to do this weekend. Back home people asked me for bug stories, but the best I could really come up with were the ants constantly invading my food and the shoe-sized cockroaches scuttling around my shower when the power was out (and biting me in the neck when I slept on the floor). Now that I have some disturbing critter stories I thought I’d share while they’re still fresh in my mind:

1. This one is probably the least gross. There are about 4 or 5 cats that live on the residence grounds, though they all refuse to be touched and are super skittish around people. All of them are black and white, and all seem to follow directives from the biggest cat, who always has a scrunched, grumpy, grandpa face, leading me to believe they are all somehow related. Since I adore cats, and always want a pet so badly, I’ve been attempting in vain to win their love and approval. One habit I picked up at Xavier, especially when there was not a whole lot of food to go around, was never to waste leftovers. So rather than throw food in the trash (especially meat which I am finding harder and harder to eat), I toss it outside to the cats. Now whenever I walk by or open the door, they run over to me meowing, expecting some kind of treat… but still if I bend down to pet one, they run off into the bushes. And yet, I know they love me. In our “dining room” there’s a full length window from floor to ceiling and now when I am eating breakfast or dinner, all too frequently one of the cats comes to the window, paws on it, and leaves a headless rat by the door. This seems to happen too often to be coincidence, so I take it as a sign that the cats feel some affection for me, and they choose to express it through their morbid little presents. True love, really.

2. I first discovered these next critters in Chuuk, but soon realized they are here as well. They are called plaster bagworms, and while much less insidious and destructive than their fellow invasive insects, the termites (which I can clearly hear chomping away at my walls at nighttime and awake to find little puddles of sawdust all over my room), they are more gross and do a better job at hiding themselves which is more disturbing. They are a little hard to describe, but basically they are flat little grey or brown things… they look very much like a squished dust bunny and for most of last year, that’s what I thought they were until one day when I picked one up and saw to my revolted shock a little worm head popping out of its flat shelter. After finding multiple of these around my room, often in my bed, I finally decided to google them since no one seemed to know what they were. Apparently, these specific worms weave protective cocoons out of dust, hair, and pieces of fabric, hence the dust bunny appearance. If I remember correctly, they’re completely harmless… just kind of icky.

3. You would think that living in Pohnpei with American priests who are used to getting waited on and having the best of everything (despite this mythical vow of poverty I hear so much about) that there would be an overwhelming amount of food in the house, but I quickly realized that with the exception of dinner which is prepared for them by a local cook, the other residents sustain themselves mostly on canned soup, spam, ramen, bread, and peanut butter. I took myself to the “supermarket” to buy some more appetizing and nutritious foods since I usually have lunch at the house, and of course boxed macaroni and cheese was high on the list. I couldn’t find the Kraft blue box kind which I used to love in college, but there was a similar brand, and even better one that didn’t require milk and butter – two things we don’t have much of. When later that week, I poured the first box into boiling water I noticed little black things rising to the top. I thought it was just burnt crust from the pot, but as I scooped them out with a spoon, I noticed these little things had shells and legs and claws. Probably only the size of large carpenter ants, these bugs were unlike anything I’ve ever really seen. They looked like miniature aliens with curved backs and strange claw-like apparatuses on their many little legs. At first they kind of reminded me of giant-sized lice, but that thought was completely unappetizing so I tried finding another, more benign association, but failed. Since I already had boiled the pasta, and the thought of wasting food and money doesn’t generally appeal to someone on a volunteer’s salary, I decided to eat it anyway. I drained the water, and rinsed the pasta, thumbing through the noodles to pick out these bug carcasses wherever I could. I’m sure I still ate some, and the thought of this kind of repulsed me at the time, but the prospect of opening a fresh, uninfested box the next week was somehow reassuring. A few days ago I decided to eat the other box I bought. I opened it and before even boiling any water, sifted through the macaroni to see if the bugs had attacked that one as well, but couldn’t find any. Feeling victorious, I started to cook it… only to realize that once again the bodies of the boiled bugs floated to the top of the froth. I don’t know where these bugs were hiding. I figure they must actually cling inside the noodles or something like that. Anyway, I ate this pasta too and so far, still feel fine. No harm, no foul.

4. This last story probably ranks the worst, at least from my point of view. Pohnpei is home to several more kinds of spiders than Chuuk, at least from what I’ve observed. The famous wolf spiders are here too, but there are also tarantulas (after seeing a small one, I made sure to research this!) and several other kinds of very pointy, vicious looking things that hover menacingly from their expansive webs. Outside one particular window in the residence, there are probably 5 or 6 massive black spiders with neon backs. It makes me shudder to think they are so close to being inside the same house as I am, and I try to not think about them dangling from my ceiling while I sleep. They all live in one vast, connected web resting, it seems, innocuously. On the window to which they are adjacent, there are these furry things which look like some kind of burr. Since I came here I have been trying to figure out what these things are that look like small balls of dust stuck to the widow. Last night while standing in the kitchen I decided to have a closer look. It was then I realized that these things are not stuck to the window, but rather stuck in the web. After careful inspection I realized that they are not burrs or some other kind of mysterious plant life, but rather basically coffins – the woven traps of insects caught in the spiders’ web. I could see the outlines of some shriveled, empty bug corpses caught inside these death cocoons. And, even more to my horror, when I looked even closer I could see tiny, tiny white dots everywhere on the web: miniscule baby spiders – hundreds and thousands of them; newly hatched evil being unleashed on the world. I know spiders are good – the ones here are generally harmless even if they are capable of biting, and they keep worse bugs away. But they LOOK so terrifying, especially in such foreboding numbers. They are only fascinating outside my house: right outside my window is way too close.

All this talk of animals reminds me of a quote I love that I think says a lot about my experiences here:

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
-Mary Oliver

I like to think even though I find certain creatures much less appealing than others, that we can somehow work together: I'll keep feeding the cats if they keep rats out of my kitchen. I will leave the spiders alone if they eat mosquitos that might perhaps be carrying something unpleasant like Dengue fever. Or, at the very least, maybe we can just learn to silently and benignly coexist, doing what makes us happy, not causing harm to each other, and not feeling guilt or regret for just being who we are.

Anyway, this was just something brief to keep everyone in the know! :) hopefully I can update with something more cheery this weekend!!!

UnEvents (disclaimer: religious rant to follow)

Well, my second weekend in Pohnpei just passed, and was unfortunately a lot less eventful than the last one. Work on Friday was quiet as usual. I came back from lunch to find Eugenia (Euke), a Chuukese woman who also works at MicSem , confronted with an insurmountable amount of take-out food that her son had brought for her. She convinced me to sit and eat with her, even though I was already full. We ate potato salad, taro, greens, sashimi, and local chicken soup and talked, mostly about Chuuk and how different it is from Pohnpei. Fr. Fran came in after a while, and sat down with us and we talked some more about social issues throughout FSM – homosexuality, mental illness, education – and went on for a few hours. After this, most of the staff gathered in the small media room to watch the newest MicSem video installment on education and local public schools in the FSM.

After work, Greg and I went out to dinner at the Joy Hotel and saw Inception at the Pohnpei cinemas. I was surprised how much the movies reminded me of home. The theater was MUCH smaller, but it was nice inside; cool and clean and quiet. I expected to walk outside and be at home, in the parking lot of the Galleria, and drive to my house. Everything here is like a stranger, smaller version of what it is back home – the shops, the streets, the grocery stores. The environment is much different of course, but so many things remind me of being back in NY, much more than they did in Chuuk. It gives the impression of struggling to maintain a semblance of the West with diner-style cafes and take-out places where you can get an American hamburger rather than a plastic case of rice and barbecued chicken. But if you drive around Kolonia for just a while, you realize the road goes nowhere and you are just traveling in big circles, seeing the same things, as though you are on the set of an old cartoon watching the same sights passing you by.

On Saturday, I discovered the Jesuits' Hitchcock collection, and watching Psycho, which has always been one of my favorite movies. I was restless after awhile, and practically alone in the house, so I decided to drive around and explore as much as I could. I went down Kaselehlie Street, the main coastal street in Kolonia, and kept driving. I passed lots of shops and little restaurants (Sei, Angie’s) that I had only heard about. I passed the Oceanview Hotel and shopping center, which looked absolutely deserted, and the famous Flamingo bar and dance club, which I’ve been warned not to go in. Delightedly, I realized the food stores here have a much nicer variety, so I bought myself some crackers, chips, chocolate, flavored seltzer, and kahlua (all the necessities to survive, obviously). I bought some coconuts from Three Star, a shady, dark little store right next to the road leading to the waterfalls I visited with Tom. I did the same sorts of things on Sunday – driving around where I could, going into stores that were open, and desperately seeking some exercise.

One thing about living here that is so vastly different from Chuuk is the sense of being on my own. At Xavier, this was never an issue… sometimes to the point of sheer annoyance. There were always other faculty members around, most around my age, to eat with, sit on the porch and chat with, play cards with, and just pass the empty time somewhat decently. Besides which, students were everywhere, always. Here, I feel an overwhelming sense of silence and sometimes loneliness. I don’t relate all too well with the older priests I am living with (surprise surprise). I might go off on my own to more uncharted, exciting regions except they wouldn’t be the safest ventures.

Today was Euke’s birthday at MicSem, so we had a small party for her. We sang, took pictures, and had some cake (which was purple and WAY too sweet). Dickson showed me his uncle’s website with pictures of Woleai and his relatives. So much different than Pohnpei of course! Very natural and peaceful looking. They remided me of Sammy, another Xavier teacher, who left to teach in Yap on that island. I can't imagine not being able to have contact with anyone except your neighbors. One step at a time for me =) Tonight was also the first night since I’ve been here that power went out – from about 6 until 9. We had candles, but other than that it was absolutely pitch black. I was surprised after being in Chuuk how frustrated I was. Though even in Chuuk it was the one thing I could never really get over. It annoys me because it’s a problem that can be fixed if it was only paid attention to. But generally, power is remarkable here compared to Chuuk which is just a sad testament to the government inefficiency there.

A few nights ago, I downloaded the movie Religulous, which I’ve seen before but is one of those biting documentaries that I really love. Along with Richard Dawkins clips, I have to watch such things to keep me sane here. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced; this environment in which such a harmful product infiltrates every aspect of these people’s lives. I really believe that, more than I ever have. It’s not just a perfunctory, transient lashing out at religion because it’s boring, repetitive, or clearly the instigator in so much modern violence. It’s a recognition of the ways in which religion, particularly Christianity, came about and how unoriginal, uninspired, and unevidenced they are. This past week, a friend of mine from high school passed away. Another friend of mine also tragically lost someone close to her. I feel like at these times, it’s easiest and almost necessary to seek out comfort from some unknown source; to believe that there somehow has to be justice for the unfairness and suffering in the world. When I hear stories like this, I want to believe in god because like an agent or overpaid lawyer, I need to think that he’s working for a plan that will end up benefiting me. But this is such a convenient and ultimately selfish thought. Not that I think such suffering is necessarily meaningless, but it’s too easy to find solace in a figure like god. The reality is that the world just operates unfairly. And to be honest, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather think that than have faith in a god which, by his own standing, is jealous, malevolent, angry, and vengeful. What an awful depiction of someone who is meant to be running our lives, or at the very least protecting them. God sounds more childlike than many children I know, and I think better versions of morality can be found on some seedy sitcoms. I think this is depressing to some people (which is a big motivator for religion in the first place) because people need to feel loved, watched over, and most importantly, like they matter. It’s very soothing to the human ego. But what is so wrong about not mattering, at least in a universal sense? The stories surrounding Jesus have been regurgitated from old Hindu, Sumerian, Hebrew, and Egyptian religions before him. I’d much rather believe in the reality of Jesus, the living wonders of our world, the grandest systems and schemes of the universe as working together for their own ends and prosperity rather than for that of some invisible being pulling all the strings. That to me is much more wondrous.

I like this quote by Lawrence Krauss:
Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.

I mean, isn’t that just so much more fantastic?