The Bad Volunteer by Mary Flannery
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EXCERPTS
Floundering In Truk Lagoon
The Dinner Party
Spaz Attack

Outline

About the Author

Music From Micronesia

 

CONTACT INFO:
MaryLFlannery@hotmail.com

 

EXCERPTS
from The Bad Volunteer

a book by Mary Flannery

FOREWORD: A brief history of Micronesia
and how I happened to go there.

Thrice happy are they who, inhabiting some yet undiscovered island in the midst of the ocean, have never been brought into contaminating contact with the white man. --Herman Melville, Typee

Imagine a land of water in the middle of the Pacific Ocean--hundreds of islands, mostly uninhabited, flung across a million square miles halfway between Hawaii and the Philippines. Volcanic mountains, once underwater, jut from the ocean. Further out, remote and flat sandy atolls embrace calm blue lagoons. White birds sail over towering breadfruit trees, coconut palms sway, and the gnarly finger-like roots of mangrove trees tug at miniature white beaches.

Barefoot women plod down the sandy path wearing loose low-waisted dresses with puff sleeves in shades of electric pink and chartreuse, a washcloth or a pair of childrenąs underpants perched atop their heads. Their silky brown skin glows more from coconut oil than from sweat. Men lounge in wheelbarrows, loose threads dangling from the bottoms of their polyester pants, maybe a zipper broken. Wielding rusty old machetes, happy children hack away at coconuts, and sing high pitched Jesus songs.

Welcome to the Federated States of Micronesia.

Its original inhabitants are said to have sailed here from Polynesia thousands of years ago. They had no contact with the outside world until the early 1500's, when Magellan's fleet anchored off Guam. In the ensuing centuries, trading ships and whalers plied these waters, stopping off at the islands to trade guns and tobacco for breadfruit and fresh water. Missionaries from Europe and America fanned out across the atolls. On island after island, ancient dances, songs, and an extensive lore of sea spirits were abandoned in exchange for Christian hymns and prayer.

Spain ruled Micronesia in the late 1800's. At the end of the Spanish-American War, the United States took control of Guam, and Germany bought the rest. Meanwhile, resource-strapped Japan had its eye on the area. When World War I broke out, the Japanese ousted the Germans. Soon the islands were teeming with farmers and fishermen, storekeepers and soldiers from Japan, who outnumbered the Micronesians on many islands.

During World War II, Micronesia was the target of massive American bombing. Truk Lagoon, home to the Japanese Imperial Navy, took the brunt. A fleet of Japanese ships still lies on the ocean floor.

Shortly after Japan's surrender, the United Nations set up a "strategic" Trust Territory of Pacific Islands, to be administered by the United States. Eventually, all the islands were given an opportunity to negotiate their political sovereignty. None chose independence. Saipan and Guam opted for a commonwealth status. Four island groups--Ponape, Yap, Kosrae and Truk--banded together to form the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). They negotiated a Compact of Free Association with the United States, as did the Marshall Islands, to the east. Under the terms of the Compact, islanders are free to go to the US to work or to study; they use American currency and the US Postal system; they get boatloads of USDA food; and if they're lucky, they get US Peace Corps volunteers.

The first wave of volunteers landed on the beaches of Micronesia in 1966. Twenty years later, I showed up.

I had been living on the island of Manhattan for more than a year, in a tiny studio apartment that I shared with my younger sister Amy. I spent my days toiling as a secretary for CARE. Amy, who was awaiting her Peace Corps assignment, sold ice cream bars near Grand Central Station. When she left, I didnąt know how I was going to make ends meet. How would I be able to pay the exorbitant rent by myself? I could hardly enjoy the pleasures of the big city. I felt trapped in a never-ending financial struggle. Finally I decided to follow Amy's example: I signed up for the Peace Corps. It was, quite simply, the only ticket out.

Amy had already headed off to her training in Senegal when the Peace Corps offered me a position as an English and Science teacher at a junior high school in Truk. Truk?? Truk State, Federated States of Micronesia. Iąd never heard of it, but never mind. It was out there. It promised adventure and escape. Sunswept sandy beaches. I entertained visions of dark muscular men hauling in nets full of fresh fish. I was sold.