Matter of Life and Death A story of violence and war
We are in a dangerous place. The stories are scary about this little Micronesian State called Chuuk. The more people we talked to, the more rules we learned. First, don't go out after 4 p.m. You're okay to walk about the one main "road" during the day, but curfew is 4:30--never go out after dark. Second, never venture out on your own. All land and sea here is claimed by an owner, if you trespass, you pay. Third, don't offer alcohol to the Chuukese. They claim it is the trigger for bad behaviour; at the very least it's an excuse. Fourth, women must dress conservatively: long skirts and non-form fitting t-shirts. This is a tribal culture, a man's world, a societal wreck; we are guests.
It is also, according to the license plates, "The Wreck Diving Capital of the World." Its claim to fame stems from the hell that rained down here over 3 fateful days in February 1944: Operation Hailstorm.
The Chuukese people lived for centuries in the middle of the Pacific, unknown to anyone save for some Spanish trade ships, and later German colonists. Then, the Japanese decided to improve their stronghold in the Pacific and zeroed in on the Micronesian Islands. They annexed, occupied and set-up shop. They eventually used the Truk Lagoon as the staging point for their attack on Pearl Harbour.
Three years after waking the dragon in Hawaii, the US retaliated in a big way. Operation Hailstorm not only brought down the immense fleet of Japanese War ships and planes in the lagoon, it decimated the islands. The islands were torched and the water thick with blood and oil. The few Chuukese and Japanese survivors were left desolate. Most starved, others turned to cannibalism. But the story doesn't end there.
The UN called the United States to task to help repair the damage. But the wounds are deep and dollars don't heal. That's why it's not a safe place to live, or visit. They have been damaged, we've been told. The problems here, according to aid workers, NGO's and volunteers, are insurmountable. So help comes and leaves, as one WorldTeach high school teacher told me, to save her own sanity.
We were only here for a week, we stayed at the Truk Stop hotel. Although we didn't have any issues other than the typical bugs, creatures and rats of the tropics, we've since learned that 2 weeks prior to our stay drunken thieves burst into the room of a sleeping guest and robbed him. The next night they returned to retrieve the flip flops they left behind, like nothing had happened. #No consequences. #Lawlessness.
Still we dove in the now crystal clear waters of the lagoon, and crept through the steely carcasses of downed ships and planes. This is a hauntingly huge WW2 museum. We are grateful for the chance to see this place up close, but it is only within the context of its history of violence and war, that we can truly grasp that the wreckage of war resides above the surface too. There are only a few living survivors, but the generational damage lives on. The matters of the past are having a tragic impact on the future.
The locals kill. They carry slingshots and sharpen rebar which they fire with deadly accuracy. Last week, a guy was shot right though the eye, "deader n dead" we were told. Another in the heart. We talked to volunteer teachers who tell us all students in their classes carry knives and slingshots. It's just the way. One taxi driver told us that last week a man had his arm chopped off while he slept, he doesn't know why, or by whom. It's just the way.
When our departure day came, we were ready. But the mind boggling wreck dives also made us realize that we are profoundly fortunate to have been here. This place will make every other dive pale in comparison. It is that incredible.
The weekly island hopper arrived on island time, we boarded and buckled and breathed, so anxious to get to Guam. Then we got the news--everybody off. The plane was damaged on landing.
So here we are, sequestered in the airport, no wifi (of course), no a/c and for most of the last 6 hours, no lights. But safe. The rescue plane is on its way. We'll get to Guam late, smelly and exhausted. Halleluia!
