‘Lehlie. I think for me, these past 8 or 9 days will be known as the “lost week” since I was stricken with and completely incapacitated by a horrible case of something… I’m still unsure what it was. I was given antibiotics for a sinus infection, but I’m almost positive it was the flu, which has been going around. Except for one instance of food poisoning, I was never sick in Chuuk, and haven’t been this sick in a long time. Intense pressure in my face, fevers, muscle soreness, joint pain, coughing, sneezing, dizziness, vertigo, fatigue… I had it all. I was almost worried at first it was Dengue Fever, especially when I started having pain everywhere in my body, but it mostly seems to have cleared up now (except for a persistent cough).
I had very little to do while I was sick. I mostly lied in bed, trying to induce fitful sleeps with the help of Nyquil. My fevers were made worse by the fact that we kept losing power and so I was stuck in my stuffy room with no fan and no breeze. When there was power, I often stole away to Greg’s office which has air conditioning and a comfy chair. There with my box of tissues and endless cups of green tea, I languished; nothing to do but watch the few movies I brought with me that I’ve seen a million times. The nights were worse because I oscillated between intense fevers and intense chills. Of course, for the few days that I was really sick, the weather was very humid and rainy, meaning that our water wasn’t exposed to enough sun to be adequately heated. For showers, I boiled three pots of water at once, pouring them into a wash basin and reverted back to my bucket showering days on Tonoas.
During this time of being completely sedentary, I was also left to do some thinking and reflecting on my time here. Whenever I think about Chuuk, I’m left only with the most peaceful and happy moments of my year, although I know I didn’t always feel peaceful or happy. In fact, when I think about the turmoil I experienced, especially second semester, it seems impossible that I ever felt content. For all the service I offered, I know I was not adequately appreciated by certain administration, and when I consider the reasons that there was so much conflict, it confuses me and makes me feel angry and taken advantage of. In the middle of all these fretful memories, I decided to look back on some of the notes that the students wrote to me on their first semester final exams, which I typed out and saved to my computer. They are glowing, loving, generous words that both then and now restore faith in myself as a teacher. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I didn’t go to Chuuk to please my fellow faculty members, or anyone really except for the students that I was given so much more influence over than I ever could have imagined. All the drama and issues that I struggled through seem so trivial when I think about the immense positivity the students brought to me, and that I hopefully brought to them. Reading their comments and letters to me makes me tear up, as I do when I receive emails or chat messages from them telling me how they miss me and wish I was back with them. I would have liked the opportunity to change and improve; to do it all over again this year. But for all my efforts, for one reason and/or another, this couldn’t be realized. It continues to surprise me – the pettiness of people, even of myself. Chuuk still feels more like home than this place ever will – I guess you have to fall and rise, give and be given comfort, suffer and heal, betray, be betrayed, and forgive, and find both anger and solace before you can really call a place your home.
Pohnpei has been a drastically different experience. Although I have fully enjoyed my time here, it has always just felt like I’m only visiting… which I guess I am. My work never felt as stable and giving as teaching; nor did it feel as tiring, trying, or frustrating. Both at times felt simultaneously rewarding and futile, but without the give and take of everyday classroom life, my days here feel more empty and less substantial. I’ve made some good friends here, and absolutely do not feel the same waves of tension and controversy as I did living in that Mabuchi bubble, but for the most part, my community is myself. Maybe being left with my own thoughts for so much of the time is too overwhelming, because my thoughts are as neurotic and self-deprecating just as they are provocative, evocative, and deeply centered. I have never had the occasion to fully explore them and I don’t completely know how. There is a quote I like by Sartre which says “If you are lonely when you’re alone, you are in bad company.” I think there is so much truth to that, and as happy as I can be when I’m alone, I am also often uncomfortable and entertain feelings that I am missing out. I think I have found a semi-decent balance between getting out in the community and having time to myself. It’s important to be ok by yourself just to be.
Last night there was a raw and vivid storm around 2 in the morning lasting until 4, or maybe later. It was striking and powerful. Picture frames crashed off my dresser, doors slammed, and lightening flashed threateningly. The power went out, though I don’t remember when or for how long. The noise, or de-noise, of things shutting down woke me up, and for a moment, I was left in the darkness, heat, and wet wind, before faithfully falling asleep again. My dreams were just as surreal and lifelike as they always are, except I kept waking up to the same hungry wind and sharp, relentless rain. Probably not much time passed, but it felt like I was caught for ages between sleep and storm. I only mention it because it really felt like a microcosm of my time here – half my limbs grasping for what I dream and desire, and half wading through the tumult of reality; fighting for what I want to happen and what I want to feel while mining deep down in what seems like incomprehensible blackness; chipping away at steel obstacles. Maybe my expectations were or are too high. Or maybe I am too much an anomaly in a place and culture which entertains very different values and priorities than I do. Everyone keeps telling me to “just take the experience;” it is what it is, and it is what you make it. I have to remember that when I’m feeling disappointed or aggravated or somehow injured in any sense - at the end of it all, I am mostly here for myself.
Now I’m back at Coco Marina, sitting very peacefully with that same cat who, after a few hesitant movements, finally jumped up onto my lap and fell asleep even without the promise of food, of which I had none to give. It shocks me how content I can be with these incredibly simple things – there is no power, I don’t know where my car is, I’m still coughing like an avid, ancient smoker, but the warmth of a friendly animal, the smell of salt water, and the relief of fresh fog and a cool, consistent wind has set me at relative ease.
But I see another storm blowing in over Nett River and the rain will come soon.
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