Tidal Wave Day

Last Wednesday was a regular day at St. Cecilia School. The only part of the day that would have been out of the ordinary was my plan to leave work after lunch in order to make it to the bank downtown with Jessie to take out money for the JVs. I had made it to my 5th period English class with the seventh graders just before lunch when Kaspar, our principal, gets on the megaphone outside, leading all of my students to abruptly disregard my teaching and run to the windows to look survey the scene. Kaspar announces that he has just received urgent information about a tidal wave headed to Chuuk, scheduled to hit the lagoon at 2 pm. It was then 12:30. The police officers had been riding around the road in order to announce this with megaphones from the back of their truck. We were to dismiss and evacuate the campus. No students were allowed to walk down to the road, which is on lower ground and right next to the ocean, until their parents arrived to get them.

Immediately after the completion of the principal’s announcement, the school erupted into panic. I quickly ran next door to talk to Sr. Sophie in 6th grade to confirm what I had heard. Lachlan, who was teaching on the other side of my room, and I tried our best to control and calm our 7th graders. I tried to relay the message of the expected protocol, and ask them to calmly pack up their bags, but was acknowledged by very few of the frantic kids. It was clear that I actually had very little control over what was now happening in the classroom. Students began running in all directions, yelling, “We’re gonna die!”

I myself was at first completely skeptical. A tidal wave? Really? I thought we were protected from tidal waves by the reef. My apartment can’t be more than 200 yards from the ocean, will it survive? If a tidal wave hits, will the bank still be open?

I sat down on the concrete in front of the office and watched the students dart in every which way. Nai Nai, one of my 1st grade friends, was jumping up and down yelling, “Upwe no tukken, upwe no tukken!” (I will swim!) I spoke with our principal who was sitting on a bench outside the office, and asked what he knew. He seemed nervous and helpless but confident in conveying the announcement he had heard himself. A big concern was the ability of the government to disseminate the information quickly enough. We only have one phone at St. Cecilia so most kids weren’t able to call home, plus many families don’t have phones in their houses. Soon enough though, parents began to come for their kids, walking up the hill to be greeted by squinting and then sprinting sons and daughters who were anxious to get home.

As school started to clear out, teachers began to head home as well. Carlos, a 5th grade teacher and father of 2 of my students, offered to drive me downtown with his kids. I jumped at the chance, grateful to get out of the chaos and hopeful to still make it to the bank, potentially avoiding a lethal tidal wave as well. Carlos, Berson, Brilliant and I pile in Carlos’ low to the ground car, which bottoms out on the deeper pot holes in the road. I feel relief as we drive until the car comes to a gradual stop on the causeway. I am unsure of what is happening. Carlos turns the key in the ignition, nothing. Again he turns it, nothing. “No gas,” he tells me in English. Carlos quickly hops out of the car and onto a passing truck in order to get to the nearest gas station about 15 minutes away. I offer to stay in the car with the kids until he comes back.

It takes a minute for my thoughts to catch up to me. It is 1:15. I am stranded on the causeway, a very narrow human-made road surrounded by water on both sides; and a tidal wave is coming in my direction. This is where my own panic sets in. My nerves overcome my own skepticism and worry takes over. I guess if a tidal wave takes out this 12 square mile island, I won’t need to go to the bank anyway. I give up on the bank and become concerned with my own survival. What if Carlos doesn’t get back in time? Berson and Brilliant get restless. I try and talk to them but they speak an outer island language, not the Chuukese I am learning, so we can barely communicate. I think about leaving them there and hopping on a truck to make it home in time, but I wont leave these kids here. I get out of the car and start pacing. I see trucks pass with kids on the back heading away from school. I wonder what is happening at Saramen, where I live and where Jessie and Matt teach. Have they evacuated? Are they scared?

What if I die here? Is this seriously happening?

I recognize faces of drivers and children as they crawl past in their cars going 10 mph, the fastest you can drive with the conditions of the road. I look up to see the Saramen school truck. It’s the Saramen principal, Wayne, coming to get his kids from St. Cecilia. He greets me as he drives with a confused smile, wondering what I am doing on the side of the road with random children, but I speak first. “What’s happening at Saramen?” He says, “We sent the kids home, you know it’s just a drill, right?”

A drill. It’s just a drill. “Hey Wayne, does that mean the bank is still open?” He laughs as he nods and drives away. How could the state of Chuuk have a natural disaster drill without informing teachers and administrators? How did no one know? I start to calm down. I convince myself I was never that worried in the first place. Berson, Brilliant and I watch for Carlos on the backs of oncoming trucks. He arrives holding one gallon of gas in a plastic water container. We fill the tank and continue our journey home.

I make it home just before 2. If it hadn’t been a drill I would have only narrowly made it to the safety of my apartment. I walk in bursting to tell the story of my afternoon and am greeted by JV’s, peace corps volunteers, and JOCV volunteers all celebrating the afternoon off. Jessie springs up when I come in and we run to the bank, talking excitedly as we go. We withdraw our cash, feeling relieved that we will be able to eat a nice dinner and pay for our weekend trip to another island. We decide to commemorate tidal wave day with ice cream cones from the store, not unlike hot chocolate on a snow day.