Ok, there’s not really a good way to sum up a week of
amazingness. So here’s one way of doing it, and there’s also three posts with
lots of pictures below.
1 – number of (freshwater) showers I took during the 9 days
I was there. Unless you count the time I stepped outside into the super heavy
rain, then it’d be 2. The other times I just swam swam swam, and put coconut
oil on my skin + hair (helps the salt crustiness O.O)
1 out of 6 – number of times I freaked out when I saw a
stingray with me in the water. Cut me some slack, it was my first time, I
thought I was taking a picture of the familiar coconut palm leaf, and then it
moved.
1 –coconuts I opened myself (I haven’t done the husking
yet). Did you know the water in most coconuts is under pressure? Of course I
was pointing it at my face when I opened it. I believe the appropriate term is
KERSPLUSH.
1 – bottles of freshwater left when I left. Yes, Pakin has
water shortage issues, that’s part of the project I’m working on.
1 – number of times I cut my feet from walking on coral
rock. I don’t know how the locals do it, they must have hobbit feet.
2 – piglets slaughtered during my stay. Hold it down to the
ground on its side, then hammer a machete through its heart. Sounds like a
Nazgûl with a cough attack.
2 – palm trees I witnessed falling down. One was chopped
down by Pahpa, the other one fell into the ocean because of climate change
erosion O.O (yeah, I know, you can’t prove that’s what caused this particular
one to fall down, but still)
2 – vegetarian lunches/dinners I managed to have. One was
because we ran out of meat (oh no! They slaughtered a pig for dinner when they
realized that). The other was during the feast for the community meeting – too
busy for them to notice I didn’t grab any meat.
2 –mini sunburns almost avoided
2 – “buildings” built while I was there (shower building and
outhouse) with local material and tin sheets
3 – minimum number of flies sitting on my at any time during
the day. Lots of flies everywhere, but only during the day. And the mosquitoes,
while plentiful, are strictly nocturnal (score).
3 – Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) I swam in while I was
there.
3 – days my host dad wore a skirt. Dunno which of the ladies
he stole it from. He was like “look, I’m wearing a skirt, haha!” – one more
facet of the mystery that are gender roles in Pohnpei culture.
more than 3 – times I went swimming every day, minimum. I
mermanned a LOT.
4 – maximum number of coconuts I had in one straight go.
“Julius, here. Another one? Another one?”
5 – maximum number of sharks I saw all at once.
More than 5 – number of coconuts I drank every day.
5 – days in a row I went without drinking sakau OMG! (it
doesn’t grow in the sandy soil of atoll islands).
5 out of 8 – number of times I attempted to sleep in a
hammock outside. Succeeded twice, the other times it started to rain and I had
to move inside. Inside meaning on the concrete foundation of our house. At
first I thought it would be super uncomfortable, but I was actually fine.
6 – lobster tails I ate in one day. 2 for breakfast, 3 for
lunch, 1 for dinner. Caught by “the boys”
17 –people we fit on our small boat, plus two pigs and lots
of luggage
91 – age of Pakin’s oldest resident, my Pahpa’s grandma
Angelie. She grew up during the Japanese occupation in WWII. Still going
strong.
100 – SPF needed. I went through almost an entire can of it
(spraying can was good for my back where I can’t reach to shmere)
115 – number of permanent residents on the four inhabited
islets of Pakin. We did an impromptu census from sheer memory where my host
family listed 115 names (not a single repetition). Talk about close-knit
community.
0 - number of
constellations I recognize in the night sky. We’re still on the northern
hemisphere (barely), so I think that speaks more to my lack of knowledge than
to the difference of the sky, but hey, I thought I would least recognize a
dipper or something.
0 – number of fish I caught during our night time fishing
trip.
0 – number of breadfruit and banana on our island of Osetik.
They all fell off the trees from the storm, so we had to eat the flour and rice
we brought.
Other noteworthy things:
Night-Time Fishing Trip:
The water is so clear, you can see the bottom of the lagoon
more than 10 meters deep just by the light of the moon. Also, the way people
kill fish when they catch them is not by clubbing. You take the fish head in
your mouth and bite until the fish skull crunches. Note that the fish is still
violently flapping while you (meaning my host brother Kotaro, hells no I didn’t
do that) perform the Dementor’s Kiss. First time I understood the urge to spit.
Work:
Yes, I actually did some work, too. We had a 2-day review of
the Fisheries Management Plan. And I also asked community members left and
right about climate change impacts and the effects of the recent storm (Typhoon
Dolphin, though apparently it wasn’t quite strong enough to officially qualify
as a typhoon)
Fish Language:
Fish actually make noises that have me thinking they speak
to each other. The tiny black and white reef fish made like an angry “brrrrrp!”
sound every time they battled each other (or maybe they were courting? I don’t
speak fish. Yet.)
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