The Arrival

As soon as we exited the passenger processing room, we were welcomed to the country with head garlands, coconuts, and perfumed sprays by Peace Corps staff.  Unsure if the perfume was a cultural practice or a corrective measure for weary travelers, we were, thankful to be entering our new home smelling fresh.  Before leaving the terminal, we gathered for our first group picture with a banner that read "Welcome to Kiribati."

Our training officer was an energetic older woman who no one dared cross after witnessing what seemed to be an unwarranted tongue lashing to our bus driver, Mango Chuck.  Apparently, Mango Chuck had other obligations to attend to at home while we were at the welcome ceremony.  He asked Sarah if he could drop us off and pick us up when the ceremony was finished; he assured her that nothing would happen to our belongings.  She was adamantly against his proposal and made him sit next to her throughout the whole ceremony.  I later found out that not only she, but also the entire Peace Corps staff did not trust him.

The ride to the welcome ceremony was nothing less than amazing.  With the bus’s air-conditioning out of commission, Mango Chuck advised us to open each window.  As the bus started moving, the hot, muggy air quickly transformed into cool, refreshing breezes.  Traveling down the only paved road in Kiribati confirmed the smallness of the land that I saw from hundreds of feet in the air just minutes before. The ocean, now just inches from my feet, lapped against the layers of sandbags that lined both sides of the road.  It was the island paradise I had envisioned when I first received my assignment. 

The bus slowed as we entered the village that was hosting our welcome ceremony.  There, beautiful sun-kissed children with bright white smiles and straight black hair ran alongside the bus, extending their hands to greet us, shouting, “Mauri tan I-matang,” a.k.a., “Hello White People!”  When the bus stopped, Sarah began instructing us on proper maneaba (a village meetinghouse) etiquette. 

Keep your head low when you enter. Don’t sit with your legs stretched out. Boys sit cross-legged.  Ladies cross and cover your legs.  If you speak, stand.  If spoken to, stand. And keep smiling people, I know you are tired but we got a lot to do still.

 As we entered, village elders greeted us with more head garlands, baby powder and perfume.  Smelling like fresh baby bottoms, we took our places across from the esteemed village council. The first speaker formally welcomed us to his village and country in English.  Not expecting this, I was stunned.  However, that was short-lived, as the following speakers addressed us in the I-Kiribati or Gilbertese language.  Bauro, an I-Kiribati Peace Corps staff member, translated these speeches and addressed the council on our behalf.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, we returned to the hotel.  Jet-lagged and caked in the sweetest smelling perspiration I had ever produced, I took my room key and proceeded to my room with Matt, my assigned roommate.   I was beyond excitement when I opened the door to find an air-conditioner unit.  I immediately lunged for the power switch.  Seeing my reaction, Matt said, “Wait… before you turn that on, I actually want to try and let my body climatically adjust itself to this weather as soon as possible.  I feel as if air-conditioning would just delay the process.”  Too exhausted to develop a counter argument, I obliged and headed to the shower.  He must have changed his mind while I was in the bathroom because as soon as I turned off the water, I could hear the hum of the air conditioner's motor.  I gladly laid down in my bed while he went to take a shower. 

When I woke up the following day, it was afternoon.  All of the volunteers were jet-lagged and because of this, our training ended up beginning on the next day .  On my way to the training hall, I picked up a local newspaper at the concierge's desk.  Splashed across the front page was a picture of four newly garlanded Peace Corps Trainees!  Unable to read the story, I was able to understand the English weather forecast, which predicted a “fine” week with temperatures hovering in the mid to low 90s.  Sweating profusely just standing in the lobby, I couldn't help but think that this new definition of "fine" would require a good amount time to adjust.