Raised eyebrows and rice October 31, 2011

In the interest of achieving assimilation into a new culture people first seek common ground; they look to what they know and understand as normal to them. At some point they’re forced to reevaluate our own culture’s quirks and how they might appear to an outsider. They compare and contrast everything on mental Venn diagrams, reveling at the shared space in the middle one day and lamenting it the next. Sometimes—against all likeliness and odds—there’s no common ground in sight, just a vast ocean of unanswered questions and bemused sighs . This is a list of those things.
THINGS I’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE MARSHALLESE
The dress
You don’t have to be Albert Einstein to deduce that a climate like the Marshall Islands’s should favor an equation of less clothing to more heat. Not the case. I like hot. I do. I’d rather be drenched in sweat than shivering any day but the dress here is mind boggling. Women wear long cotton or polyester muumuus for formal occasions and guam dresses for daily life at home on island. Guam dresses are synthetic slips that are thin and comfortable but entirely transparent. Wearing one to church or work would warrant the same judgment as someone wearing sweatpants to work in the US. One of the most WTF moments I’ve had since coming here was the first time I suited up to go for a swim—and put on a bra and underwear, a t-shirt, long shorts and a guam dress Those dang missionaries just had to “save” the Marshallese so many years ago with their notions of modesty and swass. I’m pretty sure Adam and Eve were Marshallese for this reason.
Betel nut
Betel nut is a type of nut that people chew on in some Pacific Island nations. It’s laced with what I assume is nicotine. It’s like chew (once again, an ass out of you and me) because they let it sit in their mouths and make a small cut to let in the goodness. My students are hooked on this scarlet and all it’s minor stimulant qualities. The problem? Betel nut is dark red and leaves absolutely horrible stains on people’s teeth. Before I knew what it was I was concerned by all the smiles I received which revealed what I thought were blood soaked teeth. Are the Marshallese vampires?
Nonverbal body language
For the first week of teaching all five of my classes were dead silent. Yes, they were scared of me and this unfamiliarity caused them to act better than they currently do but there was something else happening to. My students just stared at me. I’d ask them questions and they would just stare or faintly twitch their faces in apparent skepticism of what I was saying. The Marshallese don’t nod or shake their heads to indicate yes and no like what I believe is, oh yes, the entire world. The Marshallese raise their eyebrows, often pretty quickly, to say yes or that they understand something. When they are saying no or that they disagree or dislike something they make this scrunchy face as if they ate something sour. Both of these movements can happen so fast during a conversation that they might be able to be passed off as facial ticks. The eyebrow thing drives me crazy and my students know it. They now do it more than ever.
Speakers
I have yet to attend a Marshallese function that didn’t have an elaborate and likely expensive audio setup. Whether it’s a volleyball game on a Saturday afternoon or somebody’s son’s first birthday there are giant speakers, switchboards and microphones to announce and narrate every detail. I have no idea where they purchase these setups which sometimes even involve laptops and keyboards as well. Every time the school does anything with the students the giant speakers come out and they begin playing songs like the rare Skynard b-side,“Sweet Home Marshall Islands” or just jabbering about nothing in particular over a microphone until the event starts. Considering that many people on Ebeye don’t have running water, the priorities seem confused.
White Rice
White rice is everywhere. This Japanese-turned-Marshallese staple assures that no meal is complete without piles of the stuff. For big events they’ll fill plastic tubs with it. It’s almost rude to not have a pot of rice ready at all times in case you have to feed someone. Brittany and I decided one night to have some neighbors over for a pizza party. They’d been feeding us for weeks and we wanted to feed them for a change, especially on a night when we had a decent meal planned. Our Fijian neighbor came over to see if we were ready and immediately left and came back with rice and fish to contribute. It seemed she didn’t approve of just having pizza for dinner. People buy rice in huge bags, if the rice supply dwindles there is general unrest among the population. Why not brown rice, which is available as well and much healthier? I have no idea. Yes it’s more expensive and but so is AV equipment. The other day I noticed my students passing something around. I stalked over and demanded to know what they had. They revealed small fistfuls of uncooked white rice. I became more curious than mad which is sometimes the case.
“Is that rice?!”
(eyebrow affirmation)
“is it cooked?”
They laugh.
“Why?”
“Meeja, it’s crunchy. MMM” responded the most flamboyant student in the school.
This brings me to another point entirely. The students don’t call me by name. I think it’s a respect thing of some sort. They call me Miss-a. In Marshallese, adding an “a” to the end of a name is a way of getting someone’s attention. There “a” sounds like “ahh” (like when a doctor looks at your tonsils ahh) which can be added to the end of any name. So they call me Miss which sounds like Meese and add a. But the Marshallese “s” is more like a soft “j”. For the past few weeks I thought they were maybe trying to say teacher in a strange way. I’d hear these little voices say “Mejah, mejah!” and know that they were wanting something and was too exhausted from addressing their questions to try to figure out why they were calling me this.
The Heavenly Father
Whenever my students turn in writing assignments, mainly journal entries the almost all share the same opening line or a close variation: First I’d like to give thanks to our Heavenly Father for sharing this wonderful moment. At first I was like, “oh that’s nice, they’re so sweet and pious.” Then I started seeing it more and more like an Oscar acceptance speech. I’d assign something like: Write three sentences using present tense about what you your favorite class is and why. They’d write: First I want to give thanks to God for this wonderful time in our life… almost all of them. So when I was trying to teach them how to write a formal letter I was determined to break them of this habit. I presented several arguments to them, none which resembled my true thoughts on this habit. They seemed to understand. They raised their eyebrows accordingly to convey this. I collect their second drafts and not a single person has eliminated it. Once again I will summon my flamboyant student’s response, “Mejah, everything begins with God!”
Amen.