"Look at That Fat White Baby!" Published

In the Foreign Service, you move a lot. And in most cases, it's extremely difficult and fraught with red tape, errors, and problems. This book is a collection of essays brought together by the Associates of the American Foreign Service Worldwide (AAFSW).

In "Look at That Fat White Baby!: Adjusting to a Developing Country," I share my experience of moving to the Marshall Islands with my husband (a first-tour Foreign Service officer) and our 9-month-old. The Marshall Islands is a group of atolls that lie roughly halfway between Hawaii and Papua New Guinea, and moving there was a wild and profoundly beautiful experience for me.

As the essay is listed first after the introduction, you can read a good portion of it via Amazon's "Look Inside" feature (Click on the image above for the link). The book contains other useful information about moving overseas (and back again) as well as experiences both tragic and entertaining.

AAFSW is a non-profit that "provides information, advocacy, social events, networking, crisis support, and more" to Foreign Service officers and their families. Proceeds from sales support this organization.

Abject Defeat

There is one type of inhabitant of the Marshall Islands I won't miss in the slightest—these little ants (well, I don't like the red stinging ones either) with yellow butts. We can't shake 'em! They have an uncanny ability to find themselves on my neck. At least three times a day.

We had to build a veritable moat in order to protect the bread and the honey—and they STILL got to them because all the oil FROM THE BODIES OF DROWNED ANTS made the surface tension of the water high enough that they could cross over. Really, now.

So you've won, my little friends. We've had some good battles, but I surrender. I go to colder climes to seek refuge from the invasion.

Adieu.

Moving Day Is Upon Us

And all I can think of is Auntie Shrew shrieking "Moving Day!" I couldn't find a clip of that, but the part at the end of The Secret of N.I.M.H. is almost just as applicable, since our house is slowly sinking into the lagoon. See ya, Majuro! It's been wonderful and beautiful and eye-opening!

Initiating Countdown and My Son Is a Leper

Max and Andrew. Max can count to fifty in French now. Pretty cool and good practice for both of us before we move to Montreal. This picture was taken before we went to Eneko.

Jamie and Max outside in the lagoon . . .

. . . as part of a final Young Women's party at my house.

Final trip to Eneko with Jeff and Lois, the next Pol/Econ/Con family. I had the best snorkeling experience ever and saw all my favorite fish—trigger fish, parrot fish, clownfish, butterfly fish, the blue and orange wrasse that cleans up other fish, and other extraordinarily colorful fish whose names I don't know but that I can recognize. It was amazing. It provided some good closure.

Max got a little too much sun, as you'll see later on. Our little leper. We put sunscreen on him, but not enough and not frequently enough.

On a walk while Max slept on the table (and our friends watched him).

Going home. Got to spend some quality time with Jim, Kathy, Doug, Lois, Jeff, and Eric. 

Saturday I had the pleasure of being with these wonderful women and talking about challenges surrounding being a professionally creative person and a mother. It was kind of a small focus group to see how this type of activity would fly with the local arts group, Jambo Arts. It was really fascinating and great timing for me—I'm about to be submerged in the world of balancing graduate school and family.

Ray, Andrea, Andrea's son Sebastian, Jamie, Alexis

We watched this fascinating documentary about five mother-artists—their joys and struggles with the oscillation between their families and their art. I heartily recommend it (click to see trailer—I was particularly fascinated by the Mormon woman with five children who produces particularly macabre art). I am happy to engage in conversations about finding balance between loving others and loving oneself (2nd Great Commandment, yo). I am also appreciative of a husband who encourages me to be me (notice the careful absence of "who lets me" or "who allows me").

And we ate very well. Superb lunch, Andrea (and props to Ray and her coconut pie).

Saying goodbye to my Young Women Sunday was tough. I asked them to sing my favorite verse from my favorite hymn that the Marshallese sing.

We had a Yokwe Eok, a goodbye tradition in the Marshall Islands. The bishop talked, everybody sang a few songs, and they walked by giving hugs and handshakes and dollar bills and beautiful handmade necklaces, ornaments, and other things. I cried and cried.

In the meantime, Maxwell has looked more and more like a leper. His babysitter was horrified when she saw him and she promptly set about making homemade coconut oil for his face. 

But the blisters are healing and he's smiling. Never trust a tropical cloudy day and only one round of sunscreen!

To end on a happier note, our children's books have started to arrive! I happened to see one of the WorldTeach volunteers, Kristan Thatcher, before going to Eneko, and I had the chance to show her the book that she made with her students. Very rewarding! The other twelve Marshallese-English children's books that we created are on their way. See here for images of all the covers (and links to Amazon.com where you can get them). It's nice to almost be done!

Accepted to Graduate School!

I'll be starting at Bennington College in June! Read more about it here (on my writing blog).

Visit to the Clam Farm!

 A few weeks ago I finally had the chance to visit Provan Crump at the Marshall Islands Mariculture Farm (MIMF). They produce several species of Giant Clams for aquarium enthusiasts all over the States. They also grow coral and other wonders of the sea.

Proven mainly grows three types of giant clams: Tridacna squamosa (Fluted clam), Tridacna derasa (Southern giant clam), and Tridacna maxima (Small giant clam). There are five other species within the Tridacna genus, if you were curious (I was, after visiting!). I'll label the pictures (as much as I remember) so you know which one is which. 

Finding an empty giant clam shell here in the Marshall Islands is a relatively big deal; they are considered somewhat sacred and they are illegal to ship out of the country. Farming is a little different, however.

 Looking east. Provan has lots of dogs to guard against people trying to come in and steal clams for eating.

A look south to the ocean side. The netting covering the tanks gets ripped to shreds so easily by the constant winds. 

 

 Looking west towards the opening where the water from the tanks drain out.

How clams are farmed: They first inject the older clams (20–30 years old) with a chemical that starts the reproduction process. The giant clams produced here are hermaphrodites, so they produce both eggs and sperm. They can't fertilize themselves, but they can mate with others within their species. Provan's tried different combinations with the various species (it's not that weird; Mendel did it with peas a long time ago). In any case, the water with the fertilized eggs are put into a big water container, commonly seen here in the Marshalls, and the eggs grow into larvae.

A while later the entire tank is drained, and Provan counts how many millions of larvae there are. He takes a very small sample (sorry, don't remember the exact volume) and counts how many larvae there are under a microscope. He then extrapolates from that sample how many total were in the water tank. 

The larvae are then put in the big tanks. There are initially a bajillion little clams in the tanks, but many die. Provan's clam mortality is even better than nature's, so that should tell you something about how much clam death there is in the world.

The clams are left to grow for many months and even years. Water is filtered carefully into the tanks to avoid snails that swim about in the ocean water, and the tanks are drained once in a while to clear out the algae that grows. The clams have a symbiotic relationship with the algae, but the algae can choke growth if it becomes too dense (A couple of times Provan stuck his hand in the tank, twirled his hand around in the algae, and withdrew a slime ball that he tossed over the wall into the ocean). Sometimes pesky sea urchins try to pretend they are clams. They have to be destroyed before the clams are shipped.

Tank with clams that have been there at least a year (correct me if I'm wrong, Provan!).

 This is Tridacna squamosa, the fluted clam.

 

 This is Tridacna maxima, the small giant clam. Which is kind of an oxymoronic name, but it's all relative anyway.

Maxima again. It was interesting to watch them flinch as I walked by.

Squamosa.

Tridacna derasa.

Derasa. I love these colors! The pigments help to protect the clam from too much sun.

Squamosa.

Maxima.

Derasa.

Some other things that Provan and his team grow:

 

Fungi!

Coral.

 Don't remember, but this one was my favorite.

Looks like purple brains.

 

 The highlight, of course, was the monster giant clams that he keeps for breeding. Enormous!

 No, I did not stick my hand in one. Proven's finger got pinched pretty soundly once and he felt it all the way to the bone.

May you never see giant clams in an aquarium again without thinking about how they came to be there!

Thanks, Provan!

Chaos: An Internet Chain Poem

Thanks to all those who participated! I put the poem together in the order I received the snippets, and I love the result. Click here to see it. No person knew what the others had written.

An Experimental Game

I'd like to refer my dear readers to a post I wrote here, about experimental writing and finding meaning in chaos. I am putting together a random, blind, anonymous (if you want) chain poem, where each person submits one line. Please participate! I've got a few lines so far but need more.

Just a few rules:

1. Your line must stand on its own, but can be either a phrase or a sentence.
2. I reserve the right to throw out a submission if someone is being grosero.
3. If you would like to have your line credited, let me know. I'll number the lines and include your name and/or a link afterward. Anonymity is fine, too.
4. The subject for this poem is "Chaos."

Please send in your one-liners using my contact page. (I would say to leave it in the comments, but then it won't be "blind.") This is seriously just for fun, so I'm not interested in your email address (which the contact form requires) for anything other than saying thanks for experimenting with me. 

I'll post it on my writing website and put the link here!