"Sorry for our custom!"

Today is Manit Day. Manit means "custom" so it's basically "culture day." We use the word Manit a lot, mostly to refer to something as "manit" (culturally acceptable) or "not manit" (a skirt that shows the knees, a woman smoking in public, a woman buying alcohol...that sort of thing). Today we are in town to celebrate Marshallese culture with massive barbecues, piles of coconut, breadfruit, and papaya, booths of handicrafts, a dead pig hanging from a tent post, music and dance performances, and of course volleyball. It's a big party.

Last weekend I rode into town with Allison in her school's van (Laura Elementary School). At first they seemed to be in a big hurry, trying to get one of the teachers to town for a meeting at the Ministry of Education. But it was sort of a Marshallese hurry, because after picking me up they proceeded to drive all over Laura dropping off the elementary schoolers in the van. Each time we stopped at least three of us had to get out of the van to let the kids out- me every time, because I was sitting in the jump seat right next to the door. And every time the teacher behind me would say "sorry for our custom!"

I of course told him he had nothing to apologize for. The comment made me feel sort of uncomfortable and guilty. I know he was just saying "sorry to inconvenience you, that's just how we do things here..." but because of the way he put it, it sounded like he was apologizing for Marshallese culture and traditions. It's his country, and I'm the intruder, plus he was doing me a favor by giving me a ride, so I felt bad.

A similar thing happened in town when I was taking a taxi. The taxis here just go from one end of town to the other, stopping to pick up as many people as they can fit. You could be minutes from your destination when the taxi pulls off the main road to take another passenger somewhere else. Or you might stop at a gas station so the driver can fill up...while the car is still running. One time Eric and i were in a taxi and it stopped at a junkyard full of partially-dismantled cars. The driver got out, talked to a guy for a while in Marshallese, and then they opened up the hood (while the car was still running, of course) to fill up the transmission fluid. We were in walking distance of our destination, but Eric and I just stayed there, bemused, watching this whole thing and realizing how Marshallese it was.

Anyway, I was in a taxi last weekend and the driver stopped at a gas station so the other passenger could get out and buy something. The driver asked me if I was in a hurry, and I just laughed and said I'm never in a hurry here. Which is true- I might rush on my walk to school, or hurry home for lunch, but I've learned not to be in a hurry when I'm depending upon someone else for transportation or waiting for an event to start or for something to get built or repaired. I told him "jab, ejelok hurry," which means "no, zero hurry," or "there is absolutely no hurry." That's definitely the attitude to have here if you don't want to go crazy!