Tradewinds

Jimmy Buffet once sang about being the son of a son of a sailor. The song doesn’t apply to me. My family’s relationship with the sea has mostly been limited to days at the Jersey Shore. That being the case, the tradewinds never meant much to me until I moved to Micronesia.

Now, I wait for the tradewinds like I would an old friend coming to visit. There are few sounds prettier than a dry wind blowing through the mango and banana tree leaves. I lay in bed listening to that sound and know relief is coming. The tradewinds are a dry wind and bring the gift of relief from the humidity that at times settles over the island like a blanket on the bed. It is a seasonal weather pattern that usually begins in November or December. This year it waited.

November seemed to be especially rainy and humid which is no easy feat on an island that easily receives over 100 inches of rain in the dry areas (the interior mountains can get up to 400 inches). Hence, we’ve been waiting, first patiently and then impatiently. November drifted into December and still no change.

As the month shifts from beginning to midpoint, the wind seems to have been picking up. The house smells a little less musty. Surf tourists are showing up to surf the world class waves that break over the reef. As I type, a dry wind flows through the house and pillows are outside on the laundry line offering up their dampness to the wind and sun. Hello tradewinds my old friend. Welcome back.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Though it is now December 1, autumn is absent. There is no crispness in the air, no sound of leaves crunching underfoot. The weather is much as it has been since my arrival though November seemed rainier than most months. The trade winds should bring drier air and reduce the humidity but so far they have not come.

Though the weather was not autumnal, the autumn harvest festival we call Thanksgiving occurred in traditional fashion. Frozen turkeys were purchased from the grocery stores, cans of cranberry sauce were opened, stuffing was stuffed, and we sat down to enjoy a festive meal.

Steve and Uta, long term island residents who hail from Ohio and Germany respectively, hosted a potluck dinner at their house for the ex-pat community. It has become tradition and I believe this was the 6th consecutive year they extended their hospitality.

Thanksgiving celebrations on the island extended beyond the ex-pat community. Though they often complain that their culture is being taken away from them (I would use the word ‘given’ not ‘taken’), Micronesians don’t want to miss out on a holiday and my young co-workers have all grown up celebrating Halloween and Thanksgiving.
The government closed down at noon on Thursday so that workers could celebrate.

Given the history of Thanksgiving and the competing views of its historical significance(should it be called Thanks-giving or Thanks-taking), I found it amusing that Micronesians choose to celebrate this holiday. In fairness to them, I suppose they are more familiar with the religious overtones and context of the holiday than with its symbolism as the beginning of the end for Native American land rights and culture.