12:35 am

The light penetrates through my drapes. The rumble of a machine vibrates in my room. I toss. In nothing but boxer shorts, I lie facing away from the window. Normally at this time I’d be asleep on a Tuesday evening. But the rumble of the machine has replaced the soothing sound of waves breaking outside my window.

I don’t feel angry. At first I’d considered going outside and indicating to the workers that people live next to this construction site. I have trouble not getting sarcastic when I’m annoyed. I once met the foreman and he’d mentioned that anytime the work became a nuisance that I should let the workers know.

The consideration is replaced by resignation. I turn over. I can’t see the construction site from my position on the bed, but the spot lights illuminating the site create the effect of a giant flashlight right on my window.

I’m resigned because I remember that they’re constructing a school building. I live on the Marshall Islands High School campus in a compound meant for expat volunteer teachers. The machine is buffing a new coat of cement laid down on the floor of the 2 classroom unit. School is supposed to start in a week, but they haven’t even started building the frame for the roof and walls. Besides, these workers are paid the minimum wage in the Marshall Islands, which is only $2/hour. They wouldn’t be here at this time if they didn’t need to be.

The next day I asked someone if they’d get overtime for working so late and got a funny look. These workers are even lucky enough to be paid $2 an hour. I’ve heard that a tuna processing plant is going into operation with a dispensation to pay its workers $1.50 per hour. That might be a lot in your average developing country, but inflation is so high in the Marshall Islands and the country is so geographically remote, that prices are higher here than in Boston or Montreal. Living on that much with a family, you’d eat little more than canned tuna and rice.

The Tragedy of Dornier and Dash

Disclaimer: For worriers out there, this preface is to assure that being situated in Majuro, the following does not affect me at all.
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It many countries this is the kind of situation one might call a ‘national emergency’. The entire fleet of domestic air planes are grounded. Air Marshall Islands, what hath happened to you? It’s not the airports. International flights are incoming and outgoing on schedule. But it is not possible to get a plane to 22 of the 24 inhabited atolls. That puts a third of the population of the country reachable only by boat. That means that if there is a medical emergency beyond the scope of a clinic, people can’t be emergency evacuated to a better staffed and equipped hospital.

This is the Tragedy of Dornier and Dash. Yes, they are the ones not doing their job. But before we blame them, we can point out that they fly in salty winds and don’t get the best of maintenance work done to them. They are the two airplanes operated by Air Marshall Islands, the nationally owned and exclusive domestic carrier. The government’s looking into renting a plane and finding the parts they need (the Dash-8 needs a new engine).

Travelling exclusively by boat is highly inefficient. And so now, when school is supposed to have started already, most of the school principals and the majority of teachers are stuck on Majuro. Boats are operating, but they are few and move slowly.

Bikini atoll, the site of nuclear testing, is currently a profitable tourist attraction for shipwreck diving. However, a group of wealthy tourists are stuck there. Although radiation levels won’t affect them by being there, they can’t eat anything that grows there, or they will get radiation poisoning. Hopefully they brought enough food with them to last until either a plane is repaired or a ship on its way arrives.

It’s the Tragedy of Dornier and Dash-8. As I mentioned above, it doesn’t affect me because international flights are unaffected by this problem.

**Breaking Rumours!***

As I write this, I just heard that the Dash-8 has acquired an engine. It may take 1-2 weeks to repair, but the fleet may be back in the air this month.

Kava and Karaoke

When I used to think of old wise people sitting in a circle discussing something of great or little importance to the community, I typically imagined an Amerindian tent filled with wrinkled chiefs, passing around a pipe. The combination of the heat inside the tent, the smoky atmosphere, and the sharing of the pipe, creates calmness conducive to discussion. Throughout the Pacific Islands, from Fiji to Kiribati, drinking kava is what old men do. Kava is a powdery derivative of a root. When soaked in water it creates a dirty brown coloured drink that essentially tastes like mud. Excited to try it? What attracts a newcomer is that, like a mild narcotic, kava creates a calming sensation, and when strong enough, can make your whole mouth go numb. (Dentists take note!)

Out drinking kava with some friends at a karaoke bar, also really popular in the Marshall Islands, I started wondering whether kava also reduces inhibitions (like alcohol), because I actually started considering getting up there and singing “Sweet Dreams” by the Eurhythmics; maybe next time. (Ear plug salesmen take note!)

Speaking of music, Marshallese people like to dance as well as sing karaoke. There are a few night clubs in Majuro. 3am at “The Pub”, I found myself turning to a buddy of mine, a Harvard law student interning at the Majuro Court House this summer.

“What’s with the terrible transitions between songs? Is there only one CD player and the DJ has to pull the CD out before he inserts the next one?!”

I asked, you see, because between every single song there’d be a 5 – 12 second pause. People clear off the dance floor and it goes dark. Another friend, an elementary school teacher, was the one that replied. He’s a ripalle (white person) that grew up here in the Marshall Islands.

He said, “That’s just the way we like it here.”

After another swig of Waikato, it dawned on me (in vino veritas). The pause between songs creates this tension. If people like the next song, they enjoy jumping onto the dance floor to boogy-down. Imagine that moment when you’re sitting at a table and a song comes on that you love to dance to. You might grab a partner and practically leap onto the dance floor. The Marshallese style reproduces that feeling between every song!

Under the sea

Enjoy these underwater pictures by Mr. Steve Courchesne, underwater explorer. I've managed to snorkel 4-5 times so far and get a couple of good shots. Click on the images to see a larger version. For this first picture, the light was perfect!


Coral I spotted on the ocean side of Majuro. I was snorkeling in these craters created by an evil construction company. (Pacific International Inc.) PII digs up the coral so that they can crush it and use the sand to make cement. But just away from one of the craters, this coral was untouched.


Jeremy is spear-fishing. The metal pole is sharp at one end and has an indentation at the other. An elastic band is fitted into the indentation and pulled taut. Like a bow and arrow, when you let go of the elastic, the spear launches at the target. If it misses, you'll here a high-pitched "tick" sound as it strikes rock. The Marshallese are awesome at spear-fishing.


I followed this "Moorish Idol" for about 15 minutes off Anemanet, an island part of the Majuro atoll. In the picture, the fish is munching on a little coral.

A DIALOGUE WITH moi

Me: I really admire the Marshallese sense of community. Throughout most of history, most of the atolls had one or maybe two hundred people living together. The closest community might be weeks away by canoe. It was a time when people truly depended on each other. Everybody is your neighbour; everyone’s family. I appreciate the strong sense of togetherness that people have here.

Moi: Isn’t that part of the problem today? Can you imagine a company or government running itself if everyone in it is part of the same family? I won’t fire anybody because I won’t put my cousin out on the street. But then that means there’s a lack of incentives to work hard. And there’s certainly no punishment for incompetence.

Me: But would you rather live in a world where old people die in their apartments, only to be discovered because the stench offends the neighbours? Or perhaps we want the Marshall Islands to experience shootings in schools?!

Moi: What’s your point?

Me: My point is that a strong sense of community is a good thing, as annoying as it can sometimes be. In our part of the world, that gets lost and we see more crime, drug abuse, murder and suicide.

Moi: We may suffer from a lot of problems, but at least things work! In the Ministry of Education or other government ministries, some people sit on their hands or don’t even come into work every day. Teacher absence is a huge problem. If the system doesn’t work today, then the next generation’s gonna suffer from the same problems. Kids are missing school. When they get to high school they’ll be woefully unprepared.

Me: These are serious challenges that the Marshallese have to tackle. But does that mean we have to start canning everyone? Think about what that might do to the fabric of a society that is so intimately linked. You don’t have to see your former boss at the supermarket, at the bank, at the hardware store or at the few eateries in Majuro, not to mention at your cousin’s barbecue. Don’t imagine that we’re in a small town where everyone knows your name. Imagine that this small town is the only town.

Moi: Maybe you should get in a time machine and go to Russia, circa 1919, and see how things operate over the next 70 years.

Me: Don’t be sarcastic.

I agree that communism didn’t work in great part because people weren’t motivated to work hard. But incentives don’t only come in the form of the stick. An equally important measure is to encourage solid work through praise and financial incentives. A good tap on the back can itself work wonders. But if you add in structured bonuses for the best performers, then I guarantee we’ll raise the bar.

Moi: I’m not completely convinced. Dead weight is dead weight. Call me cynical, but sometimes the only way to gain air is to dump the ballast. Your solution won’t get rid of the coasters that benefit from a guaranteed job.

Me: My idea isn’t perfect. Certainly a carrot and a stick would work better. But we need to be realistic about the situation. We simply can’t take our western corporate mentality to the tiny Pacific islands. The personal nature of things is just too important here. It’s easy for us in North America to erase a bad job from our resume or move to a new city. On the other hand, starting fresh in the Marshall Islands is almost impossible. That’s why the society has developed numerous mechanisms to avoid conflict… or at least keep it at a bearable minimum. We may not like everybody, but we have to live with them.