of roofs and rain, or, a wet bedroom

look: theres no roof. yes, that's where my room is.

i'm not sure if this is going to work because everything on this website is in some sort of asian script as opposed to good ol' american english. i'll just try and make due. if it doesn't work, i guess you'll never know, though.

the roof of the jvi house here in the marshall islands has had problems for a long time. for starters, the house is the oldest building on the assumption church and school grounds. it was renovated about 20 years ago but is in a sad state of disrepair now. the only thing that is a major problem is the roof. when it is raining outside, well, it is also raining inside. sometimes it is even raining inside long after the gray clouds have moved on. the problem is isolated to the kitchen/dining room area. while this is a problem when you're trying to eat a meal, it is certainly better than leaks above anyone's bed. also, note that the attic was until recently home to an undetermined number of rats, whose droppings the water percolated through before coming through the cieling. so we're not just talking about water, we're talking about brown rat poop water.

after about a year of requesting help with this problem, the cavalry finally arrived on wednesday in the form of samuel, the maintenance guy. he started out by ripping off a section of the tin roof. what section you ask? naturally the corner of the house that is home to my bedroom. nobody knew he was going to start that day, so i didn't put anything away or make any efforts to perserve things. in the process of removing the existing roof, mass quantities of bits of rotten wood and who knows what else came to litter my bed, chair, desk, and floor. fair enough, not a big problem. messes are a part of fixing things.

the real problem started when samuel hadn't put the new roof on yet and it started to rain. there was brown water running down the walls of my room, dripping from the middle and pooling on the floor, in addition to being absorbed into my mattress. luckily i was able to put some tarps on my bed and carefully stow important documents and belongings inside my big dresser/shelf thing that kept everything dry. there was no real damage, i just have a mess on my hands.

so there was no roof for a few days. relax, there is a roof now. they aren't done working on it but the gaping maw that was over my room has been covered for a day or two. in the meantime i am sleeping at the rectory next door. father rich, the normal resident, is on vacation but will be back this week. he doesn't know i'm staying there. i "borrowed" a few books from his shelves. don't tell him.

i tried to put up a picture of the exposed beams hanging over my room but i can't make heads or tails of this asian script. on the bright side, i have pictures online! check them out: http://picasaweb.google.com/aaronzeleske

*addendum: i put the picture up now!

please hold still, or, i give free haircuts

thursday is my night to cook. since our cupboards were bare of just about all the foods we usually eat (we were even out of the basic elements of food; we drank all the soy sauce and ate all the tarragon!*), it was spaghetti for dinner. i don’t have a problem with spaghetti. it is a simple meal. i set the pot to boil on the stove and was sitting at the kitchen table playing guitar when there was a knock at the door. six small island boys were there asking for water. the kids were from the neighborhood known as small island, which is right next to the church and school property where we live, stop by our house all the time to play with our blocks, read out children’s book and drink our water. i always try to be welcoming to them but sometimes its hard because when it rains small island children, it pours small island children. little voices constantly calling “water? water?” very easily distract from reading. most of the boys who were now at the door just wanted water but there was one who asked if i could give him a haircut. he had clippers and there is an outlet right outside our porch. at first i thought, “what? why is he asking me to cut his hair?” but then i shrugged and said “sure!” i’ve cut my own hair a couple times with clippers and helped cut my old housemate patrick’s hair a few times last year. the boy had shaggy, curly black hair. he took off his shirt and i got down to business. he just wanted it all taken off, so that’s what i did. i even engaged in barbershop banter with him; asking his name, where he goes to school and what grade he was in. his name was eric. i sheared off all the hair and then took off the attachment to clean him up in the back and around the ears. he kept looking down to watch the hair fall to the ground. i kept telling him to look up and hold still. “hold still, eric! hold still!” it wasn’t a bad haircut. i asked if anybody else wanted a trim and another boy said he did, but only the bottom half of his head, like a little bowl cut. i said i would do it and added a nice twist, making the hair on the back of the bowl come down to a little V point. it was tricky to get the V balanced out because he kept squirming around. he might never know about that little flourish, but then again it could just change his life. when i was done with them i went into the house and brought out a mirror so they could see. both eric and the other boy smiled approvingly.
when the boys were leaving i told them to tell all their friends that i would give free haircuts on saturday. i hope that promise doesn’t come back to bite me. i could easily see all of small island lined up outside the house waiting for a trim.



*10 points if you can name the source of that quote

an allegory, or, this morning's sunrise

i woke up this morning to sit and watch God begin the day. i walked about 40 yards behind our house, across the elementary school courtyard and sat on a big rock by the trees next to the cemetary. i was a little disappointed that the Eastern horizon was shadowed with clouds. because of this, the beginning of the sunrise was not as spectacular as i had hoped. i couldn’t see the sun but i could see it brightening the clouds to my right and left with soft shades of pink and orange. these objects in my periphery were made beautiful by the sun, even though i couldn’t see it. then i started to see the sun a little more directly. there was a sort of window between the clouds that was filled with golden light. like the clouds on the periphery, the borders of the box were lit by the sun but much more dramatically. the edges were etched in brilliance, their soft lines cut into diamond edges. finally, only after the sun had made these ordinary clouds things of beauty and majesty did it show itself. it was almost as if i had to see the sun in other things before i could see it directly. once it peeked through, though, it eclipsed all with the power of its light. its brilliance made me cast my eyes down. soon the sun had lit all around. i could see everything. not only that, but clouds that had appeared dark, gray, and ominous before were now shown to be harmless puffy white clouds. the sun had stripped them of their malevolent nature and shown them to be nothing to be feared.

i hoard chalk

there is a definite chalk shortage at assumption high school, here in the lovely marshall islands. its a dog eat dog world out there, survival of the fittest. what does this mean? well, at assumption, teachers rotate to the classes. each class has its own room and the teachers move around. when i am done teaching a class, i clean out the chalk trays. i take every piece i can or i will run out and not be able to write on the board. i hide them in my desk. once someone took chalk out of my desk. i consider this a breach of the rules of the chalk famine. pants pockets and desk drawers should be strictly off limits. sometimes i forget to take the chalk out of my pockets. then i'm stuck walking around with a whole bunch of chalk stumps rattling around in my pocket. this is not a pretty sight.

things are good in majuro. i have read 10 whole books since i left the states. i am over halfway done with Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which might be my favorite one so far. i have started writing stories and junk. i am playing guitar alot. i am getting up early in the morning to pray and center myself. also, after drinking too much coffee for the first month or so, i decided to give it up for a while. i don't need that stuff to be me!! i haven't had a cup since monday and i am feeling OK with it...althought im not sure how much longer it will last. i am feeling like a real teacher. i even refer to myself as such to my students: "now, if you have any questions, you're in luck. this is biology class. i am a biology teacher. so i might be able to help you."

the feast of the assumption, or, sister act

"and now, to close our feast day mass, the youth choir will favor us with the 'ave maria.'"

the first verse is traditional enough, but then theres a lull after it. shannon and i look at each other "they aren't really going to....they aren't going to....oh yes they are!"

oh yes they did. as is true of more than a few occasions in the month (holy crap!) i've been here, i could not stop smiling. the full on sister act version of the hymn was complete with the high "oh-oh-oh" part sung by the little red haired nun-in-training and the low "sanctus santuses" of the older sistas. majuro never ceases to surprise with little flashes of colour.*

a week later we listened to the version from the film using shannon's ipod and speakers (white priveledge, i know...simple living?) and sang along. there were some kids who were playing behind our house and some of them peeped in the window...one of them gave an "AMEN!" after it was over.

as it is september a mass e-mail will find its way to inboxes the world over sometime soon
hugs,
aaron

*thats right, i spell it the british way.

disregard my alarm clock, or, the sounds that wake me up

the sounds that gently beckon me from sleep are 2 of the most beautiful sounds in the whole world. here they are, in no particular order:

1) the soft static of the pacific as its infinite waves lap against coral

2) the laughter of children

shake my head and smile, or, absurdity

in the past week, i have been increasingly aware of a certain absurdity that cloaks everything. (if thats not a blanket statement, i don't know what is) in america, this absurdity takes the form of people trying to fill a spiritual or emotional hole with things never meant to fill them. posessions won't make you any more aware and celebratory of your true nature as a human being then pouring alcohol down your gullet will. i mean absurdity not in a rude way, "thats simply absurd!" but in a when-you-really-think-about-it, it-makes-you-chuckle-and-shake-your-head kinda way. the thought that being happy starts anywhere but inside us is sad. it makes me want to sign.

the absurdity here is different. it stems from the fact that we are all here, living on coral gorwn on the rim of a submerged volcano a couple thousand miles from the nearerst real land. why is this place here? how have people been living on it for more than 2,000 years? what made it worth settling? its a precarious place to live, without the size to support large-scale agriculture or populations of large food animals. the absurdity is that it is here, that it is home to 60,000 souls and, even more, that i'm here. i step out of my classroom, turn one way and see the bright blue lagoon, and turn the other and see the deeper sapphire of the pacific. all i can do is smile and shake my head; shake my head and smile.