This present life

 One of the things I love about where I live just meters from the water and being on an atoll surrounded by water is the playfulness of the clouds, sunsets and reflections. The sun clocks off most days just before 7pm and I have swapped viewing the goings on in the world, aka the nightly news, to walking out my door and watching the screen that is the  sky.

 A touch of paridise on North Tarawa

Kiribati is a bit of a last frontier. It’s isolation to the rest of the world, it’s small land mass over a wast ocean and the environmental threats from population mass and rising sea levels sit alongside an amazing strong rich culture. With an unknown future, almost no prospects or resources of their own the I-Kiribati people continue to live as they have for generations, in the present. 
Isn't this something that the West spends millions on trying to achieve ! 

I often wonder what the future holds here and it can feel overwhelming and unknowable as to what assistance is of use, other days I am in awe of these peoples ability to live totally in the here and now. Tasks of subsidence living are done just for what is needed, no fishing for more than is required to eat today or cooking for tomorrow, a bus will get you to where you want to go and someone will feed the kids if they are left at the village. 

No planning seems to mean nothing can go pear shaped, therefore no disappointment and no stress.

 The West is a champion of stress and seems to be a champion at thinking everyone wants what we have. With the West comes stress and as more of that is introduced here the stresses will increase, already the health issues from Western influence are staggering. This is a whole other area, for the moment I'll keep with the clouds.

Halo from my front yard

 Over the pig pen

 

Sitting on the rocks watching as the end of the day turns the clouds and reflections into a playground of colour and movement is my moment of being very present and filled with changes every second. Sometimes it may be a soft glow in the sky, a rich bank of clouds, a darkness that captures the moist oppressive heat or a sky filled with layers dancing to their own tunes.

Front yard

Back at north Tarawa

There are many wonderful things about being really present and some that surprise.
Like the difference between feeling the rain or just getting wet, it’s ones thinking and acceptance that can turn a situation from anguish or aversion to a gift or treasure or to just being a moment in time.   
The clouds and I have became good friends, I’m watching them and trying to hold them still in many images. I’m not too sure how many photos are too many, this digital age allows access to trying to capture every one of those changing moments.

I like the idea of capturing these moments and I toy with the idea getting a better camera but for the time being my little point and shoot is doing Ok and is getting a work out.

UP NEXT : Leaving on a jet plane………..and maybe other old songs

"but you are one of us"

Less than a week ago was the anniversary celebration of the Mwaneaba for the Disabled Peoples Organisation (DPO) where I am working  and a performance dress rehearsal. 

A Mwaneba anniversary is a significant celebration for the I-Kiribati people, they are much more likely to know the age and date of these grass roofed meeting places than their own date of birth, age or those of their parents or children.

 Here the organisations sign is being reattached high up in the mwanabea

 

Some of the work I have been doing here has been around project management of a couple of community awareness performances, the Elimination of Violence against Women and the UN Convention on the Rights of People with Disabilities. We, well I, am working on a tight timeframe with other commitments including a delegation of 13 members heading off to Australia in just a few weeks. Early on, my Western notion churned out a project work plan and timeframe, an alien idea for the very present living I-Kiribati people, and it seems there are no local words to try to get us anywhere near the same page. I know these people get stuff done, our cultures just take us down different pathways.

After some time looking and work- shopping the projects topics I leave the knowledge with the group to shape it into a drama/performance that will be taken to the villages of South Tarawa and two outer islands.

As for making a drama I am well out of my depth. But I have been here long enough to know not to worry “too” much about their collective way of working, but I am scratching my head as to how the transformation into a performance is actually going to take place and when. As for my reworked and reworked timeframe and work plan I’m thinking I may as well start using them to make paper planes and consider a career change, pilot maybe !

I am blessed, I am in the presence of an amazing talented bunch of performers, composers and singers who come from a strong oral culture. Story telling and the use of drama and skits are a popular method of communication and awareness, it is the path we take for these projects too.

A script is written, music and songs are composed, lines are learnt, backdrop and stage curtains are made, tee shirts are purchased and bingo we have a production in less that 2 weeks ! Much negotiation took place to select the 14 person cast of which only 8 will carry onto the outer islands due to budget constraints. The performers are all people with disabilities (blind, wheelchair users or those with physical impairments) and are chosen in an equitable manner to allow all  TTM members to have opportunities in participation. (There is a lot for me and all of us to learn from these people.)

Drama rehearsal in the mwaneaba which at the same time is being repaired after a big storm. This is the oraganisations meeting place but also where some of the people with disabilities & their families live.

 

I have learnt that as an I-matang here I am very fortunate as my work is very much on the ground and with the people as opposed to being at a ministry in a public service role.  While most capacity building roles both paid and voluntary are working alongside locals I am right amongst them everyday in daily living; young, old, babies, male, female, single, married able bodied and disabled.  

Back at my welcoming ceremony in January I said Te Toa Matoa were going to be my Kiribati family, this was well before knowing what this would actually mean.  It’s only about a month since I lay next to my co-workers body as she was laid out in her wedding dress and flowers ready for burial. I may have only know her 6 months but her extended family of Te Toa Matoa members and relatives took me in as part of their community and helped me get through that long day.  I had moments overcome with emotion, pain and sorrow that spilled over into tears, no words were needed, they were my Kiribati family and I felt held.

Back to last weeks celebration and performance. My request to invite fellow volunteers to share the evening and these wonderful people was well received. Guests in this culture are very welcomed and treated accordingly. We sat on mats placed in prime position, were treated to a welcome in speech, song and dance and presented with beautiful garlands. I love the flowers in the hair thing, a scented and colourful crown to really give that regal aura. The garland dance started and I counted five garlands, but wait there’s six of us, what’s going on ? 
My fellow friends looked wonderful in their headdress while I disguised my disappointment.  A day later (still holding onto my dropped lip !) I got around to making a joke about being a garland short at the botaki (celebration/feast).  These people are the kings and queens of protocol, this wasn’t an over sight, the garlands were only for guests not for everyone. My suggestion that they had forgottem me was met with laughter and the words
“but you are one of us”.

 Heading off in the back of  truck for the first performance two nights ago.

 Same night, same truck, driving down the airstrip, it's only road without pot holes ! Beautiful skies here at dusk.

 

As of yesterday  I really am feeling like one of them, maybe just not in the way I’d like. I am surprised it’s taken this long, I have kids using me as a monkey bar and hanging off me almost every day. They may or may not have their clothes on the right way or any at all, definitely no shoes, have the biggest of smiles and cheekiness, they also scratch their heads…………………..er yes I have got to middle age and managed to get head lice !  

Pass me the flowers, I'm not feeling so regal.  

Up next : ???

Dealing with death

 My guts were churning, my face blank and I felt every bit of blood pumping through my body. The coffee was set to brew and the Sunday morning pancakes remained unmade.

It’s was early morning here at my home “ocean view” after a wild and windy start.

There is a small distance between me and my neighbours, people I don't  know by name but we kindly acknowledge each other and I give my food scraps to the pigs and bananas to the inquiring kids who shyly come to my opened door. Like all Kiribati families they live mostly a subsistence life with possibly one of the large extended family in some very lowly paid job. Fish caught daily and rice make the staple diet. Dogs along with pigs and chooks are the only animals on this atoll and their main purpose is for a source of protein.

It’s almost seven months since moving to this ocean side living. Arriving in a new small country albeit as friendly as this one it’s nice to make local friends, including the four legged ones. When I arrived amongst the neighbours roaming dogs were two pups of no identifiable breed, just that Kiribati look; short-haired, medium sized, lean and a xylophone of ribs. One of these pups was particularly skinny and the other slightly aloof. Soon the skinniest of the pups was named “Deefa” (D for Dog) and the other kept an eye out from a safe distance. With a few scraps thrown out it was only a few weeks until the skinny one took over in size and took to running with the pack. Second pup moved in.

 Bath mat chewing !

Second pup came to be know as “4 legs”, initially he was shy, timid of me and any visiting I-Matang (foreigner) but showed a very gentle nature. 

The Kiribati people are very physical and rough in most things they do, to humans or animals. Laughter is often accompanied with a endearing slap, and physical contact is a means of communication, albeit not always it in a happy and cheerful way. It’s not unusual to see kids being whacked or their hair pulled, to see them swinging pups and kittens around or men kicking a dog out of the way. Like their masters many of these animals survive on little, whatever left overs are left over and eat coconuts like many privileged dogs tuck into a bone.

My bag of western determined necessities always includes a plastic bag, a must have if you don’t want to get on a bus carrying your fish by the tail and for gathering any left over foods for “4 legs”. The presidential Botaki (traditional feast) are a treat for more than rice and fish, pig scraps and chicken bones along with breadfruit are eagerly gathered and on special occasions shellfish remains are available.

After some months when going out food was getting less and one couldn’t rely on the President hosting international dignitaries I made the decision to purchase a bag of dog food. It is only the westerners that would feed this to the dogs or be able to afford such an item, it costs 6 times the price of rice !

Such a decision to feed a dog whose life is unknown, spending money on such luxury and what happens when you leave played heavy on my mind. These dogs will come and go, their lives here may or may not out live most westerns stays of a year or two. I knew taking on any such living being would expose my own needs and attachments, I also know it’s tough living here and such an animal offers company and lightness.

I took to a randomness of feeding “4 legs”. Scraps don’t cost anything and I get to use all of the fish I purchase but I wouldn’t feed him everyday. He took to this new life and with a couple of doses of worming tablets kindy sent from a friend be bounced around happily walking in one door out the next like he owned the place. His preferred spots inside include stretching out against the wall under the table keeping his belly cool, chewing the bath mat and sitting on my yoga mat, often when I was still using it. Pet therapy seemed to turn into comparing downward dogs !

 Home comfort

It’s hard to know how long an animals life is here, pigs are prized and valued, they are kept for celebrations and significant events, unfortunately this  Sunday was it for “4 legs”. 
He had spent the night asleep under my table until heading out about 7.30am. The last I saw of him was a bit over an hour later with a gash wound in his neck, blood down his front and being carried off by 2 men and a child, one carrying the knife.

He made it to about 9 months old. 

Om Mani Pade Hum.

Death is in your face and at your doorstep, I have 2 graves just 10 feet from my door and I pass several others before I get to the road just 60 meters away. Funerals and burials of the local people take place far too often, just 2 weeks before this event the 38 year old women I had been mentoring passed away. I will write about the 12 hour funeral and burial and honour her at a later date, at the moment it’s too raw. I am accepting the many questions I know cannot be answered but struggle at a loss that was preventable.

 She along with my 4 legged friend have touched my life.

Stones make out the outline of these and many burial sites, this is just out from my back door.

 A neighbours patch, I pass these everyday.

Some take their passion with them.

Up next : Like living here, it’s unknown