Life Story #3

As I promised (threatened) a while back I would tell you how my first lengthy trip to Yap became dangerous.

First, let me tell you a little about the island and its culture when I visited there about 35 years ago---geeze am I THAT old? Anyway, the island of Yap is part of a group of loosely federated islands in the South Pacific. During the time I was there the islands were part of a Commonwealth and under the protection of the United States. They used our mail system, our judicial systems, our airlines, etc. Their primary product was copra which is dried coconut and used to make coconut oil. They also had smidgen of tourism, mostly SCUBA divers. Since that time some of the islands groups of Micronesia have gone ‘independent’ or to other forms of affiliation with the U.S. You can go here if you want more about that sort of thing.

When we lived in Micronesia the people held some resentment toward Americans, they probably still do. There was the feeling that America was trying to be a ‘parent’ to full grown children. This resentment varied in intensity from island to island as the people were slightly different in culture and very different in language. Back in the 1970s there was only one small hotel in each of the district centers; the roads were unpaved coral fill and rutted from the increase of automobiles on the islands; there were no food stores as we know them--maybe a bread bakery; and only an open market with a small variety of vegetables being sold. The expatriates that lived on the islands imported their exotic foods from Guam. This might have added to the island resentment.

Our project involved accompanying a marine biologist to the island of Yap to implement a reef survey. The growth of interest in Yap, primarily as a transit port, brought about interest in building a larger airport on the island. The island, while small, had a shallow reef area near one end that could be filled and paved for jet traffic. Yes, I know, today that sounds like using your backyard for a bathroom. But, at that time, people did not understand the rareness of these ecosystems and the importance of protecting a society’s culture. The islands were viewed as possible resources by the U.S.

Our marine biologist was a 6’2” good looking hunk from the University of Hawaii. He could have been a lead in a movie. He was charming and smart. My husband, I and Leading Man landed on the island and went to the village of Colonia. We checked into the tiny hotel, changed clothes, got our snorkel gear and procured a dusty and sad-looking rental jeep. We headed out to the other side of the island to look at the reef. I was along for the ride, since I know nothing about airport engineering, marine biology or anthropology. It took us some effort to find the place as we got lost in a few villages along the way and had to ask for directions. Clearly we were a rare site as most of the locals stared at us. I have no idea if they knew why we were there or not. My husband and I were fairly new to the islands and realized later that we would have been much better off taking an elder with us on this jaunt.

We had to park the jeep on the other side of a small village of about 6 grass huts and cut around the jungle to the coastal side. It was a lovely open coast and you could see the reef extend for a long way out to the ocean. We didn’t really need the snorkel gear because the water was so shallow for such a long way. I can’t remember what notes and photos Leading Man took because I was poking along the deeper side of the reef, which has always been a love of mine. After a little over an hour, our researcher was ready and we headed back to the jeep. As we crossed through the jungle and approached the grass huts a native in traditional thong and with a 6 foot fishing spear in his hand started talking loudly to us. His eyes were red and his gate with a little unsteady. We realized he was probably drunk and hurried to the jeep to avoid any confrontation. Another native approached him and appeared to be trying to calm him down. We didn’t know what they were saying, but the body language was clear. A third man joined them.

We got in the open jeep, hubby in the back seat and me in the front next to Leading Man. Unfortunately we had to back up to turn into the open area leading to the rutted road. This gave the angry native time to catch up to us. As Leading Man stopped backing and turned the wheels, the man with the spear ended up within arms-length of my side of the jeep. He continued the lecturing and was working himself up into a good anger finally talking in a broken-English. He was mad we were there and clearly felt as if we had trespassed in his living room. Leading Man talked to him in English and tried apologetically to get him to calm down. Within seconds of this exchange Leading Man was reading the native’s body language expertly and managed to place his hands over the keys in the jeep ignition just as the native lunged for them across my knees. My heart was in my throat as this angry character was inches from my face. The native got the rental’s logo key chain, but not the keys, thank goodness. The situation immediately escalated and Leading Man gunned the jeep as we spun sand and headed to the road at full speed. I looked back as we hit the road and saw the native throwing his spear and missing the back of the jeep by only a few feet. Whew!

Talk about needing a drink when we got back to Colonia!