Stolen flip-flops, turtle shell, and nuns

“Don’t hit the chicken!!” Sr. Toni screeches as we drive down the road on our way home from work. Sr. Rose swerves and avoids the chicken on the road. No cars protest, we usually only go 15 mph anyway.

I experience the road in Chuuk daily with the three Mercidarian nuns who I work with at St. Cecilia and who graciously drive me to work everyday. The road is always an adventure; the 4 miles usually takes about half an hour, sometimes more. There is only one main road wrapping around the coast of the island, and some smaller offshoots into the internal villages. Obstacles include chickens, pigs, pot holes, children, and volleyball nets. The sisters drive a silver Honda, low enough to the ground that we usually bottom out when trying to mitigate the pot-hole laden sections. Their front windshield is shattered in one spot- with that spider web cracked pattern, taped from the inside. It was broken by a large pipe that fell on the car from the construction on at the cathedral outside St. Cecilia. There are no laws for traffic in Chuuk, no state inspections, no traffic lights, no car insurance- so something like a shattered windshield isn’t too worrisome.

Sr. Toni, Sr. Rose, and Sr. Perpetua are some of the best friends I have made in Chuuk in my 3 short months here. They are getting me through the challenges at St. Cecilia, whether by removing the dead rat from the library where I keep my desk, or explaining why women have to wear slips or shorts under their skirts, or offering help on grading. Sr. Toni is a Palauan woman who teaches 7^th and 8^th grade religion; Sr. Rose is Yapese and teaches 5^th, and Sr. Perpe is also Yapese and teaches the 2^nd graders. The sisters are really committed to the school and are a big reason why St. Cecilia still functions. They are totally down to earth and are always willing to answer my questions. They often give me small gifts like papaya from their garden.

Last week, Sr. Perpe gave me a turtle shell ring. Sea turtles are an animal often consumed by Micronesians, they use the meat for food and the shells for jewelry and hair combs. However, they are an endangered species. Most outsiders would judge the use of turtle in Micronesia negatively. Guide books tell you not to eat it, you cannot import turtle shell jewelry into the US- it is confiscated at customs. But Micronesians really value it in their culture. I am still not sure I would eat turtle if it was offered to me. It is one of those differences where you ask yourself if it is more important to respect the culture or advocate for greater awareness and environmental justice. It’s a great question we are faced with here.

Last story for today- Mondays are laundry days for Jessie and I. After I get home from school we take the 5 minute walk over to the laundry mat down the road with all our laundry in our arms. Some days we are there for hours waiting, sometimes it takes 45 minutes, depending on if there is electricity on island. Culturally, only Chuukese women do laundry. I have never seen a man in a laundry mat here other than Lincoln. So while we wait Jessie and I usually make conversation with the women or write letters. When you step indoors here, it is polite to leave your shoes outside the door. There is a lot of mud, especially in Nepukos, the village where we live, so wearing shoes would require a lot of mopping. When my students come into the library, they take off their shoes, we never wear shoes in our apartment, and so we leave our zorries (flip flops) at the door of the laundry mat. But after our laundry is done and we are ready to walk home, we realize that our flip-flops had been stolen while we were inside. There is less of a mine/yours understanding in Chuuk, people often trade things like zorries, if they like yours they take them and leave the ones on their feet. But these were definitely stolen and we were definitely walking home in the mud barefoot. The road in Nepukos is not the ideal place to walk barefoot, there is barely pavement, mostly mud. But Jessie and I did it, laughing to ourselves, scheming when to purchase our new $1 pair of zorries. I scrubbed my feet for a good amount of time after arriving home, and even though I miss my bright orange zorries, I feel as if I have been initiated.

Kinamwe.