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.