October 13, 2008

Big wind, big party
The past week has been quite a mix of weather, as well as the usual bustle of interaction with the village. Early in the week it rained torrentially, then the wind picked up to the strongest we've seen since we left Majuro. The ship arrived after most of the rain had stopped, and they got the cargo exchange done before the wind got really strong. Any ship arrival is a big deal, but this one was also carrying the body of the mother of the high iroje, effectively the queen's mother. She was extraordinary in several ways, not least that she was 104 years old. The preparations for the funeral were wide ranging, and were interspersed with a going away party for the preacher of the Congregational church. The preacher's diabetes is causing increasing foot infections which can only be dealt with effectively in Majuro. There was a lot of food preparation and late night activity, and after the ship brought some fuel, there were even generators heard running at night. I think they probably needed the electricity so they could turn on a couple of refrigerators to help with the food preparation.
Dave and I continued to do a series of small electrical and engine repairs, but we and the Irish Melody crew also spent a good bit of time on our boats dealing with the vast numbers of photographs we've taken here, and starting to write up and edit journals. We were a bit inclined anyway to be where we could monitor the anchors while it was blowing near 30 knots, but there was no problem with the excellent holding in the sand bottom. After the big wind, it went light and clocked right around in a circle, and that did pose a small problem. As the anchor chains swept a circle, they were almost sure to encounter at least one coral head, and ours did. It required Karen to do a bit of careful maneuvering of the boat, with me standing on the bottom 30 feet down moving the chain off the head, to avoid doing much damage to the staghorn and table corals. Dave and Linda meanwhile ended up picking up their anchor and resetting Irish Melody further out, in deeper water, to get away from the corals. The village relies on the fish that inhabit the coral here, and damaging their hunting grounds would have been most ungracious.
I have spent a bit of time lately, when the night sky was clear, trying to refresh my recognition of stars, and relate that to direction. As I was doing that one night I looked in at the small lights along the beach and realized that we had never been in the village after dark. Last night that was changed, as we were invited to the final funeral dinner ceremony. The speeches commenced about 5:30, and wrapped up just at dusk. Typically for this part of the world, children of all ages were present, and were in no way inhibited from doing what they always do; chasing each other across the ceremonial circle, playing simple games, chattering. The adults made no attempt to get them to act as if they understood the gravity of the ceremony, or to segregate them from the activity. They figure when the children are old enough to understand, they'll take part, but they won't know how if they've never seen it. The crypt was surrounded with a line on posts about 8 feet high, festooned with big balloons. As the speeches finished up, the children all gathered near the crypt, and then the grandson of the deceased (a 50 year old village councilman) started pulling the balloons off and tossing them into the striving mass of children. When all the balloons were gone (and the children with them) the relatives began bringing small bags of fresh coral rubble to the grave. They spread a fresh layer of the gravel-like rubble around the crypt, to symbolize a fresh beginning, and then everyone adjourned to a nearby house to eat.
The speakers at the funeral had seated us next to the mayor, who had returned from Majuro for the occasion. She is a Phillippino lady who has spent her entire adult life married to an Ailuk native, and she has a better command of English than most of the islanders here. Before the speeches Karen and Linda learned quite a bit of local trivia talking to her, while Dave and I spent our time with Kevin, the Worldteach volunteer. As we adjourned a couple of young men collected the chairs from the cemetery and moved them to the house for dinner, duplicating the grouping. Then women circulated among the guests distributing two ni (drinking coconuts) and two heaping plates of food to each. One plate was loaded with fish, chicken, pork and turtle meat, the other was laden with rice, bread, roasted breadfruit, and a leaf wrapped ball of combined breadfruit dough and pandanus paste that had been baked in a smoldering fire. It was far more than anyone could finish. After an hour of dinner party, each family sent a member with a large food container to the serving table. There the servers would fill the container, the amount depending on how many members comprised the family. Emai brought us plastic bags and helped us get our leftovers packed up for the ride back to the boats.
I had spent the afternoon doing some fiberglass and glue work. I'd repaired a cracked sail yard for one of the big canoes, and made and installed the fittings for a sailing rig on Tempo's little outrigger, and I couldn't resist walking past to feel the new parts, and check the glue. All was in order, and Tempo helped me load the tools I'd left ashore into the dinghy. It was flat calm, with the tide so low that a few rocks were above water near the beach. A half moon flooded everything with a subdued light through a thin, high cloud cover. Karen rowed us out past the coral to avoid damaging the outboard on a hard place. We were far too full to just go to sleep, when we got home, so Karen did some more photo show work, and I puttered around and read a book for a couple of hours.
Now it's Sunday morning, with all quiet in the village, and a gentle breeze ruffling the lagoon from the northeast. We're starting to wrap things up here, and will be looking for a favorable breeze on Wednesday, to head for Wotje. We plan to take a pile of packages from local people here to their children at the high school there, and will spend a few days having a look at the school and searching out the many relics left from the Japanese and US occupations of WW2. Then it will be time to sail for Majuro, to restock our diminished food stocks and get geared up for the holiday season with the yacht club and visiting cruisers. Ted