Goodbye

The Marshallese people have a very specialized verb in their language. It came into being as a necessity. The verb is “Lokon wa,” and to my understanding, it means to see someone’s back as they sail away.

The verb is to say goodbye without really ever knowing when you will say hello again.

Long ago, when canoes sailed off on expansive journeys across the Pacific, many Marhsallese people didn’t know if they would ever see their loved ones again. They were left with the lasting image of their friend or family member being swallowed in a vast ocean-horizon.

“Lokon wa.”

It may seem that the word is archaic in our era of cell phones, internet and airplanes, but I am not so sure — at least not here. It seems to me that the Marshallese people are in a cultural transition that will keep this particular verb relevant for a while longer.

There are two things that the majority of Marshallese children want to be — a teacher or a nurse. On this island, finding a steady-paying job other than those two professions can be difficult. People can try to work in shops but upward mobility is hard in this private sector so many people choose to pack up and leave for the land of opportunity — the United States of America.

Through the US Compact with the Marshall Islands, citizens here can move freely to the US and try their hand in our economy with little to no red tape, so people do it. Actually, whole families do it. And when families move to find jobs communities of ex-islanders gel together. There are populations of Marshallese all over the US, but locally there are large groups in Salem and Portland. Sometimes, Marshallese children born to these families don’t see much their home country and are more American than Marshallese. They use American slang, don’t know much of their mother tongue and their parents can’t bring the family home as much as they would like because plane tickets are so much money.

“Lokon wa.”

Until relatively recently the Marshallese were subsidence-livers. They would get by on the things that they could grow or catch in the sea. It was a lifestyle where community pooling was crucial to survival.

This is reflected in the culture here still. People share what they have and they are more comfortable being together than being apart.

This is slowly changing however. People want good health care and a reliable supply of food and water so they leave their outer islands and come into the mainland where they are more guaranteed of meeting these needs, and rightly so. However, they are leaving behind the simple outer island lifestyle of living off the land and having life-lessons like sharing intertwined with their survival.

“Lokon wa.”

This specialized word came to be a long ago, before everything that is happening now was even a glimmer in Father Time’s eye, but the word still holds on grimly to its relevance. The RMI is in the midst of a painful change from a place with just a rich history to a place with a rich history and a future. This change is unavoidable and as it has been with every other place in the world where “progress” has touched, a part the past is left behind. Efforts to hold onto cultural practices like canoe building are underway, but it is impossible to keep everything perserved — it is contrary to the nature of progress.

“Lokon wa.”

The love you give comes back in the end.
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