Kind of a Big Deal

Well, there was a big happening this weekend in Majuro. A huge cruise ship, the likes of which have not been seen in this part of the world for the last five years, came and docked for a three-hour stay.

Majuro intended to capitalize on the opportunity and organized a market of local goods for the people who disembarked to get their land-legs back after the four-day journey from Hawaii. There was an article in the paper and a buzz in the air.

I walked down to the shindig at around nine in the morning and as I stepped outside I was surprised to see a cranky, grey day spread out against the sky. Big, bawdy clouds called thunder back and forth and threatened each other with rain; which was strange because it had not rained up until that point for three weeks. Some of the volunteers were actually running out of water.

I thought to myself, naw, there is no way that it is going to rain on the one day that Majuro gets a ship full of rich tourists.

It poured.

At the market everyone was out in full colors. Fresh fruit and baked goods were on display, tables laden with shells were propped up and rows of authentic Marshall Island tee-shirts were hung in rainbow spectrums of color that were clear contradictions to the black day.

When I stepped into the middle of the market, I could hardly believe my eyes. There were more white people crowded into this little place than I had seen cumulatively in the last six months that I have been here. They walked around in pairs and spoke a language I could understand! They were fascinated with the American presidential elections! They needed to wear sunscreen in the Micronesian sun (although not on this day).

My friend Ben and I giddily walked around with our eyes wide and our smiles stretched across our faces like hammocks. I was dying to talk to someone. I felt like I was at a middle school dance.

I talked to some people and some people talked to me. They spoke of a fear of leaving the market because they might get robbed. They talked about how they were eventually headed to Hong Kong. They said it was a shame about the weather.

I found myself bored. Whatever, who needs them?

Who were these people coming onto my island with gold jewelry and completely impractical clothing and talking like they had already written this place off? I wanted to tell them all about the people, how they were so nice and caring it made you feel guilty, I wanted to tell them about the sunsets, how this must be the place where God exhibits his best work, and I wanted to tell them about the dizzying underwater geography of the coral reefs.

Hold on a second. My island? Who did I think I was?

I guess that between touchdown in July and now this has become a little more than a place I work and a place I play. This has become a place I live, a place I have a home.

So even if the cruise ship was a big happening, if they were too snobby to give my home a chance, then good riddance.

I am glad it rained.

Maybe I am being too harsh. I too ere on the safe side when traveling. I know in Europe I had to dig my money out of a small purse-like thing I kept strapped to my bare chest. The Italians still laughed at me though.

I believe this is called localism.