To read my journal entry aloud, I thought it best to organize my thoughts more so that I appeared less like the Irish writer James Joyce with his stream of consciousness and more like a person whose writings a person may more easily follow. Wednesday, November 21st seemed to organize itself around three themes: water, family and overseas challenges to the norm.
Today as always, I awakened to the power, the beguiling, the magic of the rushing, birthing waters. The crashing of the waves reminds me of the force of nature and the wonders of life that continue to come into being beneath the churning tides. The life essence with which I sense the waters to teem forces me to agree with Ernest Hemingway and his depiction of sea as feminine when he wrote-[the sea] gave and withheld favors and could have a nature to be wild and wicked. Each morning the water is like a siren calling to me; explicitly demanding that I recognize its presence. It thunders, I am; I am powerful, what is your issue-come out from the lands of slumber. As Shakespeare mentions in Macbeth, “sleep that knits up the sleeve of care, the death of each day’s life,” encourages me to arise without pause. There is too much to do to sleep; I must great the dawn, and give thanks for I am here.
In fact, in my own intimate water experience, I have negotiated a truce. I have learned to take a temperate, enjoyable shower and keep most of the water inside of the shower stall instead of having it splash out onto the floor and soak the bath rug.
I try ever so quietly to do this without disturbing my tolerant roommate. Today, I exit and find her up and charging out the door. She too is answering the call of what begins like a day of clearing skies, wonderful running and opportunities abounding.
I encounter my neighbors; Judy as she confirms the glories of the morning and enters her room, and Connie as she returns from a morning swim. We all share a clothesline that has proved to be invaluable in allowing small and large items of clothes to be washed, hung and miraculously dried without using the fee of the laundry service. In fact, the periodic washing of clothes and hanging them out to dry has intertwined more into the way of life of the community in which I feel that I am apart. Today, I consciously decide to put away my watch and ebb and flow on Cook Island time instead of every so often reflecting on the point in time in Washington, DC, the time in which my watch remained set.
After breakfast and lovely words of the day by Elaine and summative reading of prior activities through the sensitive lenses by Linda, I am off with Lilia to the senior center. Today is my last day there. I leave the KiiKii with mixed feelings; I regret that my work may not be completed there. The ideas that I had to record the life stories of the women, to create a scrapbook for them, to help them re-engage pleasant life events through memories and words seemed doomed. Then I reflect on Taiana’s words and the goals of this program-it is what the agency wants to do and will work in partnership to accomplish. The guiding purpose of my work should be an effort to maintain a genuine sustained service partnership and to treasure what is learned from local people. In this regard, perhaps my work is completed. As Taiana, Debbie, Lilia and I pull into the Center and Taiana explains that I may have to leave early to help at the Red Cross, there seems to be more relief by the Sr. Center Director, Mary. Perhaps because they have a routine and less disruption of this daily schedule is best for her and her seniors. Perhaps because the interest of other places which may be short staffed and which have more of a need are paramount to the director and she wishes all the best for the Red Cross. Either way, she seems happy that we are leaving early. I greet the Mamas as they descend from the van that transverses the isle to retrieve them from homestays and relatives. I especially like to see the cutey pie that comes along with the van driver. He is all of 19 months with a smile that melts my heart. There are five Mamas on the van and one already at the center. The first order of the day is the morning devotion, which consists of songs in Maori, statements in Maori, Bible Reading in Maori and Prayer in Maori. We are all reverent although it is hard to know when to close and open my eyes for prayer or say Amen.
Following this, I get a group picture of the Mamas. Then a red scooter arrives with a person in shades, short curly white hair and knee length red-checkered pants. As the person approaches with vigor and determination, I think that it is a new volunteer. I am wrong. It is a Mama. She is an 82-year-old Cook Islander who lives near the airport. She comes to the senior center to chat with her friends from the island. She is to the point and matter of fact about her background. She answers what is asked and seems focused on the reason that she is there: to chat up and spend time with the longtime friends. The Mamas sing a number of Maori songs and Lilia dances for them. They seem to have had an enjoyable time. I express to them thanks for sharing themselves and their stories with me. In particular, I thank Miriama who participated enthusiastically in whatever it was that others or I did. She shared so much with me that I have indeed learned a tremendous amount, particularly from her warmth and love. She is quite an overseas challenger to the norm who is accustomed to helping others. She is a justice of the peace in New Zealand. She plans to return to New Zealand in January and will have her last day at the center very soon. The rest of the time in the Cook Islands will be devoted to sewing and helping her family, especially her daughter prepare for her Cook Island wedding at the first of January.
Lilia and I leave the center on the anticlockwise bus, which we have learned to take from the airport. It is probably not the fastest way to return to the KiiKii, but after trial and error, we know its time of arrival, location and the end destination. It has become for us a sure bet. We encounter Connie who is transitioning from one school to the other. She sums up the morning experience: The Cook Island is full of surprises. This is true from the weather, to the types of people one can encounter.
Again water is paramount on this island paradise. As one lively bus rider says, we are again under the glare of liquid sunshine as we tool around the isle.
Prior to going to the Red Cross, I decide to take my lunch hour and visit a Cook Islander at work. Lilia agrees to go with me. We encounter TAI, a sweet man, at his place of employment. Lilia is happy to go since he works at Bergman and Sons pearl shop, a shop she says was written up in one of her travel books to the Cook Islands. Although neither of us makes a purchase, we both leave with ideas for gifts for others and for ourselves.
We catch the bus and I go to the Red Cross. I arrive to find the place deserted save the lonely injured staffer, Tua. Apparently one other staffer was there in the morning and had just left, so I felt that the timing was great. My primary job is to be a companion to the injured staff and ensure that she rests. I fail miserably. I look around to see that she is out feeding the pigs! Even though I am not successful in keeping her calm, or encouraging her to elevate her foot, I enjoy my work tremendously at the Red Cross. It feels like I belong here and am part of the family. Perhaps because the Red Cross is temporarily located in the home of Tua, or perhaps because I feel that passion and desire of the others to be challengers of the norm and it resonates with the global service mission so well. I stay to answer the phones and to converse with Tua. I help with the office supplies, prepare tea, and am more a companion and office girl today. It is really, really lovely and more a pleasure than work to listen to this woman who is so strong, dedicated and caring. Very soon, the torrential waters fall from the sky. I think that they are trying to compete with the force that is in the sea. This is the Vaka Eiva week when most attention is focused on the Pacific waves however, it is the heavens that continue to beg that we regard them.
Another volunteer who is here from Nassau to provide safety returns to the Red Cross. He is usually out all day at the Vaka. Today when he arrives he is also ready to chat. This is unusual for this taciturn giant of a man to sit, have tea and talk. It is truly a gift for me to once again listen and learn. He mentions that he has seen Judy and then discusses his life at home and in the future. Another staffer comes to join just as he is winding down his conversation. I mention to her, a Canadian woman just back to the office from holiday, that I will be leaving Saturday and she begins to share. Again, the rain falls. This time it is like a cozy blanket cocooning us all as we share and learn.
I take it back just in time for the fascinating outings. I first grab a global volunteer t-shirt to wear for picture taking. Then we are off to the Sutter Puati home and brewery. They sell two types of beer: Matutu Kiva and Matutu Mai. It is truly a family business with James Puati’s mother and father helping to craft the boxes. Debbie shares with us that the long-term goal is to export their beer overseas, again a challenger to the norm since very little products are currently exported from the Cook Islands. We leave Debbie and her family; after taking memorable shots of the brewery, Debbie, James and we almost leave with one of the dogs. This animal now seems to consider us part of family.
We head to another family, the Rattle family. Here we learn about the formation of the richly colorful pearls known here as ‘’black” pearls. We see how settings are crafted and small and large pearls become wearable art. It is again a place to ponder purchases and consider gift ideas for others and ourselves.
We end our trek at the Saltwater café. I sit across from Denise and Teresa two homies (girls from the Washington, DC, Metropolitan area) with whom I had not had the pleasure of talking much. Over the last 24 hours, I truly appreciate their sharing, consideration and spirits. It is great fun to meet these new generation of service givers and challengers to the norm.
It is raining again and I find that while the crashing waves of sea wakes me in the morning, the falling water from the sky lulls me to sleep. I am excited that tomorrow is Thanksgiving with the anticipation of pumpkin coconut pie and a Cook Island food Festival. I will miss sharing with those whom I love back in the States, but will enjoy sharing new taste sensations with people here. In the tradition of the holiday, we have challenged the norm. I want to close with words from Michael Pollan, from the Omnivore’s



Dilemma:
There is a sense in which the meal had become just that a thanksgiving or a secular Seder, for every item on our plates pointed somewhere else, almost sacramentally telling a little story about nature or community or even the sacred…food can feed us both body and soul, the threads of narrative knitting us together as a group, and knitting the group in to the larger fabric of the given world.
Let us remember to give thanks!

Thought for the Day:
International Quality and Service
Taken from the Raro yellow pages – Budget Rent-A-Car ad.
We are a very diverse group of international women providing a very high quality service to anyone that asks.
Robin