Pounds of sugar and Japanese Tide

An unexpected perk of having to swim in my clothes so as not to offend anybody with the sight of my thighs is that I am always ready to hop in the water. A floor length skirt feels like the perfect outfit for wading into the ocean for a swim by the dock, and so, en route to our apartments after a day spent sweating in the sun celebrating liberation day, we stopped for a dip to cool down just a bit.

The liberation that is cause for celebration is from Japanese occupation. Basically, we are celebrating American power over the islands instead of former Japanese rule, and it's hard for me to stand behind that. Still held in a compact agreement with the states, the FSM has protectorate status now. It's a country that often refers to the US as the mainland, runs US funding, and has an economy that uses US dollars. It's hard to look at flags waving in celebration, and not wonder if liberation is still yet to come.

Of course, these issues didn't stop me from enjoying the five day weekend where island life stopped so that everyone could play field games, go canoe racing, and march around in circles singing and clapping during all of these activities to keep up team spirit.

The first day's festivities included an agricultural festival held at the harbor in the midst of a pretty fierce storm. I biked down there with a friend, and in the middle of the ride across the causeway, I noted that neither of us were about to turn around. Even though we could barely see. Even though I worried the wind would tip me over and into the harbor. Once we decided we were going to go somewhere, we tended to be too determined/stubborn/stupid to turn around. So, we biked on, drenched with rain, and rusting our hardware store Huffy bicycles just that much faster. Once we made it there, we had to hold onto the tents to stop them from blowing away, and a palm branch flew down and slapped me on the foot, which I kicked away thinking how happy it hadn't been in the face. People were wearing sweatshirts. People own sweatshirts here?

They ended the announcements early since it was hard to hear over the howling wind, and I think we could have lost a couple audience members with all of the tree branches and tent pieces whipping around in the gusts. All of the farmers that showed up quickly tried to sell all of the produce set out across the harbor once the official program ended. I had the privilege of seeing 4 or 5 varieties of coconuts, bananas, and breadfruit, as well as an assortment of pandanas, apples, oranges, and limes. The tricky part was buying. After we had made it this far, we weren't going back empty handed. We picked up fruit,t and held it up, hoping the farmer that had grown it would notice us. No luck, until another volunteer's host brother noticed us looking confused and waving bushels of oranges in the air. He helped us out, helped us buy what we wanted, and then people just started giving things away. It can be hard to buy produce around here. The shops are usually closed, and most of what we get comes from host families. They'll stop by on the way back from a farm further inland, drop off a bushel of bananas or a soursop. The other day I walked into a produce stall, picked up the only bushel of ripe bananas, laid them onto the scale, and pulled out my wallet. "Those are reserved," the kid running the place told me. I know I'm really getting used to how things work in Kosrae when I wasn't even surprised. Of course they were reserved. Why would I be able to just walk in and buy the only ripe bananas, especially without knowing anybody in charge of this particular produce stall? I'm used to finding things in stores, the rare papaya or the last carton of milk and then learning that they are sold, reserved, not for sale. That's shopping in Kosrae.

The first day of festivities was nothing compared to the second. Mondays's celebration was held at an elementary school. Each village is broken up into smaller teams based on the area where each family lives. My host family lived in a part of Lelu village grouped into the Seaside team, so I donned bright green and sat down with bleachers full of fellow Seasiders wearing green t shirts, skirts, and shorts. Gathered there, it was time for field games. Relay races, egg tosses, tire rolling relays. All participants get a bag of laundry detergent or sugar. After every event. Win or lose or stop halfway, you get that bag of Japanese Tide or bag of sugar. After one canoe race, I sat back down in the bleachers without going up to collect a prize. A woman marched up to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up to collect some detergent. My three roomates and I came home that afternoon with a bounty, and I'm ready to bake cookies and do laundry for months now.

Apparently all of the celebrating has worn me out. I'm pretty sun burnt; my nose is pink as if I just came in from the cold. It's actually my first sunburn since I got here, the first of many I'll end up with living near the equator. I also finally gave into the cold that I had been fending off during the festivities, and after a day of class, I don't really have a voice. School has been canceled for Friday since so many students are out with the flu, and, because another village has to celebrate liberation day today. It's a good thing, or else I would have lost what squeaky husky excuse for a voice that I have left.