It's all about the girls

I've been reading Nicholas Kristof's Half the Sky while attempting to pack for yet another year-long adventure away. And getting very, very excited. In under two weeks I'll be in Bangladesh preparing to work with some amazing women from all over Asia. I can't stop saying/thinking how lucky I feel to have been given this opportunity.


My time in Louisiana has been full of food, friends, family, and doctor's visits. I'm now vaccinated against rabies, Japanese encephalitis, and adult polio and will have 330 malaria pills in tow. Those skeeters love me, so I'm just hoping for the best with that one. 


Packing this time around has me a bit more stressed out because this year, in a Muslim country, what I look like will be very important. I know that I will never fully blend in (not even close!) but I have to try. 


In Bangladesh the customary dress for women is called a "shalwar kameez." It's a three-piece set consisting of loose pants, a long baggy tunic, and a scarf worn around the neck. I'll be able to have some made when I get to Chittagong, but I've also scoured NOLA thrift stores for appropo options to bring with. It's kind of been like costume shopping for real life. My sister: "I hate it...but I think it's the best you can do."


But of course really it's not what I'll be wearing but what I'll be doing that's going to make this year probably the most interesting of my 24 years. Oops, expectations much?! It's hard not to have any when I have consistently heard that the women at this university will be the brightest, most motivated, and hardest working students I will ever meet. They come from 13 countries, and many from underprivileged backgrounds, to converge there. And in 12 days I'll be there too :)

Every time I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong

On this lazy Sunday in Kosrae I stumbled across my own blog and got lost in its words.

It's been 8 months now, but I so want to be back in the game!  Whatever created my blog ennui has quietly left my system, and I hope to start writing again. I plan this summer to sit down with some diet coke and a shrimp po-boy and record some of my important Kosraen experiences and upload pictures. Nine months on this 42 square mile island has been wonderful and challenging and frustrating and sometimes all three at the same time. See the story I posted below, for which I won a free dinner! There's so much more to say, and I hope to say it.

We now have only 6 teaching days left at the high school and I'll be boarding a flight back to the United States in one month. This burned out teacher is ready to be done in so many ways, but I also know that parting with this island will bring some sorrow. Then it's on to trips in Hawaii and California before five weeks in Louisiana. 

Then...BANGLADESH. Yes, Helen of Troy will continue her wandering for one more year. I am surprised, too! 

http://www.worldteach.org/site/c.buLRIbNOIbJ2G/b.6179905/k.A6D9/Program_Profile.htm

How amazing does this sound? I.am.so.excited.

She Stole My Heartz

In a place full of dogs that are trained to bark, chase, and bite, Heartz was a nice dog. There was never a “tiok” necessary when she came ‘round. OK, she bit Sam once, but that’s probably because Sam was especially afraid of dogs. They can always tell.

Heartz was the best kind of dog. She lived across the street and found me on the back porch at least once a day, looking for nothing but some sweet petting. I didn’t need to feed her, walk her, or clean up after her messes. I never had to take her to the vet, which is a good thing because I’m pretty sure Kosrae doesn’t have one. She was the oh so happy recipient of my American craving for the human-domesticated animal relationship. I have a miniature dachshund at home, and Heartz filled the weenie-shaped hole in my heart. Contentment was decidedly mutual during these daily petting/belly rubbing sessions, hers demonstrated through deep dopey eyes and a tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth just so. She would hang around for a while and then bounce cheerfully away to continue doing whatever dogs do.

Heartz’s “real” name was Choko, but finding that harsh and unsuitable for such a happy canine, I decided to perform a name transformation. Using my gift for nomenclature - and the fact that she had two large brown heart-shaped markings on her back - Choko became Heartz. I liked to think that on the rare occasion that Heartz was a naughty dog she was briefly stepping into her alter-ego Choko. But most of the time she was a Heartz, and all the delightful things such a name implies.

About a month into Heartz’s and my relationship, Hudson Edwin (our landlord and the “old man,” as every local, including his son, calls him) brought joyous news: Heartz was pregnant! “You can tell by the titties,” he said. Oh happy day! My mind filled with the excited anticipation of lots of mini-Heartzes tubbing around the yard. With the temperament and cuteness of their lovin’ mama, the pups were sure to be my fast friends.

Towards the end of her pregnancy Heartz disappeared for a few days - no bounding into the yard, no sneaking into the house – and we grew worried. Both Peter and I had heard stories about the fate of some dogs in Kosrae - endings that involved a car, a hammer, or an underground oven. But a quick trip across the street confirmed our girl was still kicking. The Edwins had tied her up to protect her from scheming neighborhood kids, who had done something ungentlemanly to her foot. As we approached her ring of captivity, Heartz reared up in recognition. Her eyes shone brightly and her tail wagged wildly as she again clamored for our attention. Sigh of relief.

Eventually Heartz was let to roam free once more, and we shared many more afternoons on the porch. She, unsurprisingly, loved those days when we gutted fish outside. She shared in Peter’s and my excitement about our first big tuna purchase (fish had been scarce on the island for the first few months), hanging around and begging for just one scrap.

Finally it was time: Heartz gave birth in the stealth of the night, bringing six little ones into the world, an even three boys and three girls. Peter and I found her the next day near a pile of garbage in the Edwins’ side yard. Just four pups remained by that point – two of the boys had quickly died – but nevertheless Heartz appeared a glowing mother. We held our breaths and crouched to gaze in wonderment at the four little blind rats pressed up against her for nourishment and warmth. OK, so they weren’t exactly cute at that point.

Heartz seemed happy to have our company until I stepped on a piece of broken mirror – she had made her nest in garbage, after all. The craaack set her on guard, and she growled at us for the first time ever. What the heck, Heartz? But my weenie dog’s stint with motherhood had taught me such aggression was not a referendum on her affection for me. I continued visiting often, watching the pups grow into their cuteness.

Around that time another volunteer told us how his family’s “pet” dog was unceremoniously whacked on the head early one morning and served for dinner that night. “Everyone here eats dog,” he told us. “No dog is safe.” I should have recognized the foreshadowing happening in my own story, but my Heartz was special. You know what’s coming.

As her children got fatter and fatter in the next few weeks, Heartz became more and more gaunt. She finally felt comfortable enough to leave the nest yet again to bound across the street for some American love, ribs exposed but otherwise the same lovely Heartz. I figured the puppies were suckling all of her nourishment away. One puppy in particular was much fatter than she should be, and I named her Tubs and silently resented her ever-increasing weight. I wondered why the Edwins did not feed Heartz more. Then…

Heartz again stopped coming ‘round. Peter and I finally decided to bite the bullet and ask about her whereabouts once again, with a bit more trepidation this time. We found a woman in the backyard of Hudson’s house (his wife? I’m really not sure of everyone who lives there, or really in any house here) who immediately told us that Choko was dead. She brought her hands up to her face and moved her lips up and down in a chewing motion. Choko, my Heartz, had been killed to be eaten. I turned away and began to cry. The woman told Peter that she, too, had recognized what a special dog Heartz was. I did not understand.

Dogs in Kosrae wear many hats. They are guards, attackers of bikers, pets, and in many cases eventually food for their families. My struggle came in applying one identity – loved pet – to a dog that I did love. I don’t want to be the American girl crying over something that is normal, even expected, here. I understand their culture is different than my own. But I do still miss my heart-marked girl.

One of Heartz’s pups still lives across the street. She is fat, fluffy, and white. I wanted to name her Snowflake. But I think it’s best to watch from afar, to allow her to keep her Kosraen name and her Kosraen identity.

Picture time!

After two months and several polite "reminders," finally here is some photographic evidence of my time so far in Micronesia. More to come, barring my patience (upload time isn't quite what it was in Germany). Enjoy the beauty of Kosrae :)

Overlooking da jungle on an orientation hike

The Sleeping Lady mountain in her sun-lit glory

Mandatory tropical beach shot. There are some pretty darn nice ones here.

The back porch area of Peter's and my cute, yet termite-infested, home on the water

Our loveliest of lovely view from the porch

Sunset view

Kosrae High School, my place of employment from 8:30am-1:40pm Monday-Friday

My geography and world history classroom. Check out that map!

The classroom looking uncharacteristically tidy and with a "hominid" display. This teacher has had to brush up on her human evolution facts.

The WorldTeach group in front of a colorful tree deep in da Micronesian jungle

It's traditional basket weaving time!

Sarah and I under a waterfall

Hullo! (See Sleeping Lady mountain in the background)

With Sam on one of Kosrae's beaches

Lizzy and I rocking the muumuus on Gospel Day

Paddling (trying) a canoe during the Liberation Day celebrations. I was  on the Seasider team - see the green?

Lizzy, Christina, and I showing off our laundry detergent winnings at the Liberation Day Games

Big fish

This cat finally has internets!

After successfully moving once again – and finally, at least for the year – to a cute home on the water and visiting the telecommunications office at least seven  times, a man arrived last week to spend one minute installing a modem. Being without internet certainly was peaceful and good for my reading habits, but for communication and lesson planning purposes being wired is the way to go.

So now I can update mah blob!

Since I wrote last I’ve graduated from bucket showers to having an actual shower head, from my host family’s rickety bike to a new (although obviously meant for the shorter heights of the people living to my west) mountain bike, and from learning how to be a teacher to actually being one.

I started teaching last Monday: world history to four groups of seniors and geography to one group of juniors. They’re not the most participation-happy students (probably due at least somewhat to their ESL status), but they haven’t given me too many problems other than the time when one of my students said a Kahlua shot was her favorite Kosraen “food,” causing quite the uproar. The female students are also fond of wearing shirts depicting such sayings as “Future MILF,” but I think even in such classy garb they’ve been pretty interested in the prehistory topics we are covering. I certainly thought the story about the Ice Man was captivating! Oh, and I confiscated my first betel nut yesterday - definitely a coming of age moment for every Micronesian teacher.

I do enjoy being a teacher, and I think the subjects I’m teaching are well-suited for my abilities. I’m really enjoying learning about topics in world history and relaying them to my students, although it can be difficult to maintain my voice’s loudness and clarity for hours on end. The plight of teachers everywhere…

School is from 8:30 to 1:30 , and following my transformation into “Helen, certified teacher in the Federated States of Micronesia” (Yes, I am actually certified whatheheck and even managed to make a 100% on the math section of the certification test, thank you very much!) I’ve been spending a lot of my time at home or running errands to make my life/our place run smoothly here. There is lots of termite dust/poo to sweep, rats named Scat to exterminate, an extremely sweet dog named Heartz (ok so her name was Choko but I renamed her Heartz because she has a heart-shaped spot on her back) to pet, and bread to bake. I really enjoy making homemade bread here, and the results have so far not disappointed. Now it’s time to get creative!

The house is cute as a Micronesian button, the perfect size for two people with the perfect view. Peter, my roommate, and I each have our own room and bathroom as well as a water-side common room and an ample-sized kitchen to share. The best part of the house, though, is the back porch: OK so it’s actually a concrete slab, but plastic patio furniture allows us the perfect vantage point to look out over beautiful Lelu Harbor, just 10 feet away from our back door, and the jungle-ridden mountains of Kosrae in the background. We have enjoyed many a morning coffee and many an evening sunset outside. The backyard also has a plethora of coconut trees, and the front yard offers us fresh papaya. I lucked the heck out.

In the past couple weeks I’ve tried to soak in some cultural opportunities: a variety dance show, featuring girls who can really shake those hips to island music,  a traditional leaf basket making class, and an “uum” session with a local family here. An uum is an outdoor cooker (think cooking things over campfire coals but on a slightly grander scale), which produced the most delicious Kosraen food I’ve had to date: fresh baked breadfruit, juicy chicken, and turkey tail! Nom nom.

I’ve also done many not-so-cultural but still awesome activities such as observing a meteor shower from my backyard, having my host family over for dinner for some green bean casserole, and completing a 300-piece cow puzzle. Boredom is not a possibility, as long as you are creative in spending your time here :)

There have also been frustrations, probably arising from some cultural misunderstandings…but really? We learned this week that we’ve been drinking contaminated water for essentially the first month: from an unclean catchment at the high school, from another unclean catchment at our field director’s house (e coli…eek!), and for the past week from our own faucets…our landlord “forgot” to tell us the city water, not the water from the catchment, was turned on. It’s alright, though, because we got some worm/parasite pills from the hospital without having to see a doctor and fo free! The wiles still work here.

A big fat fish is for dinner tonight!

Pictures to come :)

Tu woh!

Tu woh from Micronesia!

I arrived in Kosrae about two weeks ago, but the time requirements of our intensive orientation and a very bootleg internet situation have limited my blobbing abilities. It's a relief to finally put something here!

I arrived on this island in bad shape; After traveling almost constantly for five days (with a very fun birthday stopover in Los Angeles with dem catz) my body was very confused and very tired. Fret not, though, I've more than made up for it since I've been here: I've been sleeping at least 10 hours most nights and have been having some very strange dreams!

Rick, the valiant field director of the WorldTeach Kosrae program, met me at the "airport" in a pickup truck and off we went to join the other volunteers at the high school. Note: the "airport" was two concrete-floor rooms with a very lax customs inspection process. Things are very different here. I knew they would be, and they definitely are. I don't know if I'm culture shocked yet, but it's probably coming. Darn that iceberg.

The drive to the high school provided my visual introduction to my home for the next ten months. This island is even more beautiful than I imagined or that pictures can convey. There is just one road connecting the four main "towns" on the island (more like clusters of homes and the occasional market), and it stretches along the white beach-framed Pacific with lots of coconut, mango, and papaya trees along the way. The food here literally falls from the sky. Homes and what businesses there are are mostly on this road, and the inside land is mostly beautifully untamed, thick jungle. I feel as though I live on the edge of Jurrassic Park.

We (the other seven volunteers and I) meet at the high school each day, all day, for orientation activities and teacher training. The other seven are some pretty great kids, and I feel lucky already to have their friendship and support for the year. The high school is probably the most modern building on the island, completed by Chinese contractors last year who apparently did not take the weather conditions here into account. It is a pretty nice building, but the excessive rain makes the already slippery floors very slippery. We are in the rainiest place on earth, after all. There have been wipeouts, but I take very small, very cautious steps to prevent that. We'll see how long that lasts.

Activities at orientation range from daily Kosraen language classes (I've become skilled already in the numbers and colors, thank you very much) to teacher training lessons to "cultural" activites. These are my favorite and have included learning to make a basket from banana leaves, how to husk and grate a fresh coconut, how to de-bone a freshly caught fish (sashimi is awesome here), and hikes around the island. We've swam under beautiful waterfalls, trekked through the thick of the jungle to some ruins, and spent a day snorkeling in the warm Pacific. It is pretty awesome.

My least favorite activity was a tour of the "hospital"; fingers crossed none of us get sick!

I lived with a Kosraen host family for these two weeks, and the Kineres welcomed me into their home and island with overwelming generosity and hospitality. My host father, Tensley, speaks excellent English and is always rife with important facts about this place. My host mother, Panina, is limited to the Kosraen language but has a pretty excellent laugh and dotes on me way too much. Two cute-as-a-button little girls (Moreen, age 8; and Natalie, age 7) are my host sisters, and they follow me around everywhere. I feel lucky to have these adorable little ones to call family for this year. Moreen already speakes excellent English and we read The Fantastic Mr. Fox together at night. The older brother, Haldon, seems less enthusiastic but occasionally I was able to get a word out of him. What is it with pre-teen boys all over the world?

Here are some more things that have become a part of my daily life here:

• Mosquitos. Whew, they love me! I researched and found that mosquitos are very attracted to some people's skin and not at all to the skin of others. Darn my "luck." For now I'm beating them with a daily deet dose.

• A bike with a faulty chain = my all-over transportation. My host family lent me a bike to use during the orientation period, and it's got some issues. I did feel accomplished when I learned how to re-attach the chain the first time, though. Then it started pouring.

• Lots of heat, humidity, and sweat. Summers in Louisiana have prepared me well, though.

• A whole new wardrobe: I wear long skirts and shoulder-covering shirts every day to comply with local customs. It's been a bit of an adjustment, but it's nice to not have to think or care at all about how I look. In fact, it's better if I'm not looking so great to hopefully ward off the cat-calling by local gentlemen. We white ladies are definitely a curiosity here.

• The juiciest tangerines and most delicious bananas and coconuts I'm sure I will ever have.

• Some pretty wild dogs. The dogs in Germany were strangely obedient, these are strangely untamed. They're so untamed that they will chase you as you ride your bike along the rode and growl at you menacingly. Usually yelling the word "chuck" and pretending to throw a rock does the trick. I love dogs, and I hope nothing that happens this year changes that. No weenie dog sightings yet :(

• Cold bucket showers and hair that never seems to dry. It might just be time to break out some scissors.

• Micronesian food. I eat breakfast and dinner each evening with my host family. I'm not at all a picky eater (much of this blog has been devoted to culinary pursuits), but I'm not such a huge fan of what I've had so far. The people are really unhealthy (diabetes is a big problem on the island) and much of the food is fried, made with lots of oil, or left to sit for a long time. There have been some tasty dishes, though, and the raw ingredients are certainly there. I'm looking forward to cooking on my own (yay fresh fish and crabs!) when I move.

• Kosraen donuts. Theory about every country having it's own awesome version of the donut further confirmed.

I moved out of the host family's home on a hill last night and will be living with Rick for the next two weeks while my final house is cleaned and readied by the current tenant. I'll ultimately be living with another volunteer, Peter, in what looks to be an awesome house right on the crab-ridden water on Lelu island (it's a smaller island connected to the main island by a causeway). We will each have our own room, bathroom, at least one shower head, and eventually a decently speedy internet connection!

After one more week of orientation and one week of "registration" (the high school students must come to the school to re-register each year) I'll be facing my first class of real, live high school students, who are hopefully ready to learn about their continents and Ancient Greece and Rome.

There are certainly challenges here, but these first two weeks have washed away my larger apprehensions about my decision to spend the year here. I am quite content with this island and this program. More to come from the South Pacific!

Today's the day!

In about nine hours I'll be up in the air and on my way to Honolulu and then Micronesia. While the last thing I want to do right now is get on another plane and subject my very confused and sleep-deprived body to another drastic time change, I think I'm ready to do this. I am definitely ready to stop getting "you are crazy" looks when I tell people what my long-winded travel plans in the past months have entailed.

This CATmageddon weekend is just what I've needed after too long away from my bestest friends. In the past 36 hours we've accomplished almost all of my Los Angeles faves: In-n-Out, USC (new campus center is marvelous), thai iced tea, El Cholo, and two great nights out in downtown and Newport Beach. Yes, obviously a lot of food and JOKES. Still to come is lunching with the lovely Insalatas in Redondo. With these ladies anything is possible, and I'm loving this time in the place where it all began.

I'm hoping to write more letters this year and take advantage of Micronesia's use of USPS. Letters and flat rate packages can be sent at domestic prices! (The US gives Micronesia such privileges and foreign aid, and in exchange we can build a military base there anytime we want.) I'll give my address here for anyone who's interested and would love to receive some addresses as well - I do like writing letters :)

Helen Moser
c/o WorldTeach
P.O. Box 419
Kosrae, FM
96944


Bai from this cat from delightfully sunny and traffic free Southern California - here I go!