Welcome to Kosrae, "Water Safety," Kosraen 101

It's funny: I came here to Kosrae just 16 days ago, yet as I look back and attempt to describe my arrival here, it seems like aeons ago. Now, instead of remembering the entire day as one smooth, uninterrupted narrative line, I remember it in flashes--a sped-up, movie montage version of my transition.
Step 1: Waving at my first host family (to the extent this is possible as I precariously balance three carry-ons from my shoulders and, simultaneously, drag two overflowing suitcases to the Peace Corps van). Translation: Awkwardly giving the "wassup" nod to the family who has put up with me and my constant cultural faux-pas for the last three weeks as I disappear (from their lives) over the horizon.
Step 2: Becoming the first Continental passenger ever, perhaps? (oh, how I flatter myself) to check in wearing a PFD (e.g. lifevest). To me, I'm just saving much needed space, the staff, however, seriously assure me: "you know, we have flotation devices on the plane."
Step 3: Discovering love at first sight with my Kosraen host family. In fact, I can tell you when I knew it was meant to be: the PC staff had herded all of us (PCTs, current PCVs, and host families) into a meeting room for the official meet-and-greet-and-receive-leis-and-eat. However, nothing's happening...we're all just sitting around, waiting for Godot. As everyone else magically finds their host family, I realize that mine is MIA. That's right: who is the late family, holding up the whole ceremony? Mine!
When a young couple saunter in, easily 25 minutes late and blissfully unaware, I realize that my host family match was one made in Heaven.
Then came the drive home. Everything's going fine until we hit a police roadblock. Nothing to worry about, they explain. It's just a DUI checkpoint or something. Then, as this cop walks toward the car, my dad says to me, in English:
"I know this guy--he's crazy!!"
The cop arrives at the driver's side window. He starts talking, rapidly and seriously, in Kosraen. My parents just start laughing their asses off. The cop then says a couple of (very business-like) things in English:
"License and registration."
--More laughing and Kosraen
"I'm just doing my job."
--More laughing and Kosraen.
By this time, I'm totally freaking out. Oh my God, I think, my host parents are going to get themselves arrested for contempt on my first night here, and I don't even know where my house is!
All of a sudden, my dad turns to me and says:
"That's my brother."
I shake his hand, completely perplexed. We drive off.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
I explain my erstwhile paranoia, and we all have a good laugh. Such was my welcome to Kosrae.


For some odd reason, I quickly garnered the reputation among my training class as being kind of a shitshow. (Can't quite put my finger upon when this occurred: perhaps when I slide-tackled someone during a game of Monkey in the Middle frisbee, perhaps, missed the frisbee and hit a concrete stepping stone?) Well, regardless of when it began, by the time the long-awaited Water Safety Day rolled around, our group had taken bets on who would be the first to hurt themselves, and I enjoyed a liberal early lead in the race. I swore, of course, to prove them all wrong.
A couple of hours later, we're out on the water. Our instructor tells us to jump in; we're practicing getting back into the boat. As one who has seldom been upheld as the supreme example of upper arm strength, I'm not excited. However, I jump in and hope for the best. It's the kind of moment where, in a movie, "Eye of the Tiger" should amp up in the background as I reach deep down into my soul to muster the awe-inspiring power to push myself back into the boat.
Well, I don't hear Survivor or feel like Rocky, so my arms decide to rebel against me. Charlie and Asa end up having to haul me into the boat like some unholy combination of dead fish and beached whale, as I lie there laughing my ass off (the natural response to such a situation, I'm sure). I face plant into the bottom of the boat, and shout (as much as it is possible to shout while laughing maniacally and hitting the bottom of a boat with your diaphragm): "I FAIL WATER SAFETY!" Everyone is laughing, their prediction having come true; I look down at my leg and yep, I've reopened an old scab on my knee as I was hauled into the boat, and now I'm bleeding profusely from my leg.
Oddly, I'm still allowed to swim...

Last but not least: Kosraen. (Yes, I have been doing things for the last five weeks besides tanning, hurting myself, and eating a lot of white rice.) We study Kosraen for four hours every morning which is, I assure, definitely a linguistic adventure. To give you an idea, here is a real sentence in Kosraen:
"Ke ke ke kom ke som ke Nga?"
--This translates to: "About when are you wanting to go with me?""Ke" translates to all of those words but me, you, and go. There are many, many other words that mean several things like this. For instance: "luhngse."
Whereas in English we have separate words to mean "like," "love," "would like," and "want," "'luhngse' is the all-purpose liking word. Thus, there is no linguistic differentiation between wanting a hotdog, liking to play soccer, and loving someone. It's just a funny concept to wrap your head around, really.
All of this translates into interesting language lessons (read: lots of anger/hostility. ("There are how many ways to say 'where'?") The funny thing is, I have no doubt that English contains just as many ridiculous grammatical abnormalities as Kosraen does. The difference is that we didn't learn English this quickly. Thus, right now, we're being confronted in 6 weeks with all those same caprices and idiosyncracies of Kosraen, that we've all had 20+ years to come to grips with in English. No wonder we're all so confused!

~Megan