Flying
back to Tarawa after only a week at site was strange. Though I appreciated having the opportunity
to get more supplies and food for site, I felt mixed about leaving my new
village behind. Tateta seemed like a good place, and I really liked my new co-workers. However, as it was stated, we needed to vacate
the island for the good of all volunteers.
The four
of us spent the first few days taking care of each other, contacting our
families back home, and getting those last minute materials that we weren’t able
to get before we left. After the first
few days, all of us began to get a bit wrestles. I decided to visit the Ministry of Education to
see if I could be of any use to the Ministry while I waited on Tarawa.
The only
time I visited the Ministry was when Peace Corps took us. We met a lot of people who were very excited
to have us working in the country.
Therefore it only made sense to go to them and see if I could be of any
assistance while I waited in Tarawa. I took
a bus to Bairiki, and got off where I thought I needed to. Unfortunately, I missed my target by more
than a mile. It was extremely hot and I was
walking with a backpack. Thinking that I
was close to the offices, I decided not to jump on another bus. Well, I was nowhere near the offices, and when
I finally arrived I was drenched in sweat.
“Hello! Do you want some water?” a voice shouted from
behind the counter.
“No thank
you, I’m fine.” I explained my
situation, and what I was looking for.
The voice
behind the counter responded, “Please have a seat, and I will go tell Regina
you are here.”
It was
only a few minutes before Regina, the director of the Tarawa Educational
Resource Center, came out to greet me.
“Mauri
Tem Mike, you look like you could use a rest, why don’t you sit down in my
office and we can talk about how can I help you?”
She was
not aware of the circumstances which brought me back to Tarawa for an unknown
amount of time, but was happy to help me find something to work on while there.
We talked about the bilingual books I
had developed with my brother in Maiana, and
before I knew it, I was exploring curriculum resource development center with
her. It was busy with people working on
many different tasks. Some were making
posters, others were proofreading texts, and even others were developing national
curriculum modules.
At the
end of my first week in the center, Regina invited me over to her house.
“Why
don’t you come to my house, and we will have dinner with my whole family,” she
said with the biggest of smiles.
Missing the
comforts of a host family, I literally jumped inside and immediately said,
“Yes!”
“Take the
bus to the Australian High Commission.
We are right across the street from them in a small white house. We will
be ready for you around 6, is that ok?”
I thanked her for the invitation,
and left the center early that evening so I could go
back to the dorm and shower. When I arrived
at her house, it was like nothing I had ever seen in Kiribati before. It had a full kitchen, complete with a
refrigerator and stove. The
house had multiple bedrooms and a bathroom with a working toilet and shower.
Most shocking of all, the living room had a television and a DVD player. It almost felt like I was back in the United
States. However none of these things
impressed me as much as the dinner did that night.
“We call
this KFC! You know…oh what
is it? Kentucky Fried Chicken, no?” Regina said
laughing. My eyes widened watching her niece walk by with endless trays of
chicken and cold Cokes. After the
blessing of the food, I was called upon to open the table.
“OK Mike,
stick your spoon in the food you want to try first and we will all shout “Tekeraoi!” After this, the food will be
open to everyone.”
Not
wanting to waste any time, I stuck my spoon in one of the trays of chicken, and
everyone shouted, “TEKERAOI!” and I opened
the table and grabbed one piece of chicken and a large spoonful of rice. To her dismay, Regina said “Oh that is all? Please take more!” I resigned
to my seat so others could have food first, but made sure to go back for more when
I was finished so as to show my appreciation for the amazing food.
At some
point during the meal, Regina told me about a restaurant in Fiji called Pizza
Hut, and asked me if I knew how to make pizza.
I told her that I had been making pizza
in the dorm for the past week and had all of the ingredients in our dorm. The only things I needed were an oven, and
willing hands to help make the pies.
Hearing
this, Regina said, “Do you think you can come over tomorrow and teach us how to
make pizza? My niece will help you.”
I was
back at her house the following night making pizzas with Sarah. She was two years younger than I, and
had one of the most interesting life stories I had heard on the island. She
had fair skin, an I-Matang name, and was virtually fluent in the English
language. It was her last year of senior
secondary school and she was going to start university in Fiji the following
school year. As we conversed in English, time seemed to fly by as we made
pizzas for the family that night.
Soon, all
of her little cousins came into the kitchen to watch us. Some joined us and helped to put toppings on
the pies. Eventually we ran out of
ingredients and had to go to the market to get more flour and cheese. The oven that was in the kitchen worked, but
it was very small, so Sarah's mom went next door to see if we could use their
neighbor’s larger oven in exchange for a few of the pizzas. Since I felt
pizza was best served with a cold Coke, I splurged on Coke for the whole family
that night. That night brought me
closer to Regina’s family, and made me feel as though I gained another family
in Tarawa.
 |
| Amazing new family members!
Two days after the pizza dinner, John and I made the decision
to relocate to another island. Tamana was the smallest, and one of the most
remote islands in the Gilbert Chain. I
was excited about the new assignment, but at the same time, nervous and sad to leave
my new Tarawa family. I planned
to visit them each time I was back in the main island.
|
