Sat Nam Grounding

Here is a small history on Chuuk, Federal States of Micronesia (FSM):

The state of Chuuk is within the Truk Lagoon. During WWII, the Japanese were stationed in Chuuk, FSM. All around the lagoon there are sunken WWII ships and the island I am on hosts various Japanese structures from the war. The building my office is in was a Japanese Communications building. The windows have steel doors with bullet holes in them, and a bomb landed in what is now the school gym.

Every day here is a new adventure. Whether it be learning what not to do in a new-chapter lesson with freshmen, pounding out possible templates and drafts for the campus newspaper, or attempting to fit in with my fellow co-workers, I am constantly challenging myself. One instance in particular comes to mind.

Last week, Kevin, Andrew, a few other faculty members, and I went to an old Japanese Dock.

The Japanese Dock protrudes off the east-facing side of the island, not far from a lighthouse. The excursion was my first time swimming in the ocean, something I have always feared (let alone in a WWII battlefield where there are sunken ships and who knows what else).

Everyone else jumped in, but I stood there. I did not want to admit my fear–but I also did not want the others to see my fear–so I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and jumped. Warm, salty water covered me like a heated blanket and gently thrust me back up the surface. I was in the ocean where many people died in battle.

I panically tread water in place, praying my feet would not touch anything, trying not to look down, and laughing and giggling along with the others until they decided it was time to head back. Much to my surprise, I lived.

So far, I have ventured through the jungle with a Sapukian village boy to the Japanese lighthouse from WWII on the next hill over from campus. I have trudged wilderness with my cousin to the million gallon tank where we get our water. I took a trip to town with some of the boys last weekend. That excursion was my first real tour of the island. Through these adventures, I have seen that Chuukese people are intrigued by us teachers, but also timid. I do not think they realize that we feel the same about them.

The culture has me in shock. No, not like “culture shock.” This feeling is more like amazement or adoration. Yes, there is a sense of sorrow in how I have seen so many of these people live, but their spirits soar regardless. And I feel myself dancing inside right along with them to the beat of the tribal drums.

I was standing on the roof of the old Japanese Communications building today. I could see the edge of the lagoon, so clearly, and I kept asking myself if this is all real. A little over a week before this, I was shoveling cars out of the street in 10 feet of snow. Today I am glowing in sunlight, in the most beautiful place I have ever seen, in the middle of all of this history.

Day-by-day, I am becoming something new; something more; something bigger and brighter and unfamiliar. The likes of which are difficult to describe, other than I am gaining a new self.