A quick hour flight from Kwajalein to Majuro, the capital of the Marshall Islands and suddenly, you are in the Marshall Islands. I just spent 3 1/2 days there and a lot of memories of living in Micronesia (Saipan) and living on an outer island in the Marshall Islands (Kili) came flooding back.
A few days in Majuro gave me plenty of time to ponder what’s next for me. Three+ days may not seem excessive, but the NTA hotspots didn’t reach my room, so I was alone with my thoughts for most of the time with no internet access. As a JOMO’s JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out), this wasn’t a problem for me, but I did miss the internet.
I wandered around the downtown area, and in and out of what are now primarily Chinese owned stores. The produce section reminded me of the selections available when we first moved to Saipan in 1989 - cabbage and potatoes were staples, with a touch of mold thrown in for free. I don’t recall much outside produce available at all in Majuro in the 80’s. And on Kili? Fruit and vegetables consisted of canned USDA pears, that I had on oatmeal, most every day, for a year. Most every day, because we ran out of food sometimes. I have an aversion to pears to this day stemming from that extraordinarily repetitive experience.
I had lunch at the hospital in Majuro with friends and remembered my experience there when it was brand new back in 1987. I was playing basketball on Kili, came down on my ankle the wrong way from my 6 inch vertical leap and it hurt like the devil. They first tried a banana stalk poultice, which is kind of the panacea of all outer island cures and that didn’t work. Then they tried bitbit, which is a type of Marshallese healing massage. That didn’t work either and I’m certain they heard my scream on the other end of the island. I thought my ankle was broken, got on the next plane and somehow got myself to the hospital. There were two young women there who argued about who was going to take care of me and ended up playing janke (rock, paper, scissors) and the loser had to do the intake. She was surprised and more than a little embarrassed when I asked her in Marshallese why the loser had to take care of me, shouldn’t that have been the winner? They x-rayed my ankle, said it wasn’t broken/fractured, it was just a very bad sprain and I needed crutches. But they didn’t have any at the brand new hospital and they suggested I go to Mon Robert and buy a broom and break off the bottom. So that’s what I did and used it as a cane/crutch.
And there I was, 30+ years later, strolling down memory lane, passing by the court house where I got my marriage license and ambling along the aisles of the same store I bought a broom in to use as a crutch/cane. It was there, probably in the broom aisle, that I had an epiphany. I’m a planner and I don’t have much of a plan for what happens after January 4th, when I leave Kwajalein. I’ve planned for all these years to get to retirement, but not so much for what to do when I get there. I thought I had a lot of life’s answers squared away, but the scale suddenly feels weighted with more questions than answers. I’ve got until about April 2020 loosely penciled in, but that’s about it. For me, the next chapter in life starts off with: I don't know how this story is going to end, but it’s been a hell of an interesting ride so far.
A few days in Majuro gave me plenty of time to ponder what’s next for me. Three+ days may not seem excessive, but the NTA hotspots didn’t reach my room, so I was alone with my thoughts for most of the time with no internet access. As a JOMO’s JOMO (Joy Of Missing Out), this wasn’t a problem for me, but I did miss the internet.
I wandered around the downtown area, and in and out of what are now primarily Chinese owned stores. The produce section reminded me of the selections available when we first moved to Saipan in 1989 - cabbage and potatoes were staples, with a touch of mold thrown in for free. I don’t recall much outside produce available at all in Majuro in the 80’s. And on Kili? Fruit and vegetables consisted of canned USDA pears, that I had on oatmeal, most every day, for a year. Most every day, because we ran out of food sometimes. I have an aversion to pears to this day stemming from that extraordinarily repetitive experience.
Feels like, looks like Micronesia/the Marshall Islands
And there I was, 30+ years later, strolling down memory lane, passing by the court house where I got my marriage license and ambling along the aisles of the same store I bought a broom in to use as a crutch/cane. It was there, probably in the broom aisle, that I had an epiphany. I’m a planner and I don’t have much of a plan for what happens after January 4th, when I leave Kwajalein. I’ve planned for all these years to get to retirement, but not so much for what to do when I get there. I thought I had a lot of life’s answers squared away, but the scale suddenly feels weighted with more questions than answers. I’ve got until about April 2020 loosely penciled in, but that’s about it. For me, the next chapter in life starts off with: I don't know how this story is going to end, but it’s been a hell of an interesting ride so far.
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