This last weekend, I joined my friend Nina for our weekly Baninnur Bike Collective ride from Delap Park down to the airport. While we ended up being the only folks participating in the bike ride itself, we actually felt incredibly lucky. As we fought to stay in the shade of one of the awnings, we noticed that a group of brightly-dressed men and women had begun gathering in the main shelter immediately adjacent to us. As we stood and talked, wondering if other bikers would join us, the group across the way gradually began to sing, and hum, and whistle, and dance and… celebrate!
Before we knew it, we were drawn over to the stage to watch the incredible performances that were unfolding. This was no ordinary stage performance either: they weren’t doing it for anyone else, or for any viewing at all really. Contained entirely within the shelter, a ring of men and women surrounded a large wooden box in the middle which several of the men were pounding with their palms as a box drum. All around them, men and women were singing lively songs in time to the beat. As each song went on, the pace would quicken, until the song would climax in the rapid pounding of palms and a symphony of voices calling out across the sunlit park. Gradually, grass skirts were being adorned by some of the girls at one end of the shelter, and soon a line of dancers accompanied each song with the flowing dances reminisce of a Hawaiian hula dance.
Nearly an hour later, Nina and I pulled ourselves away from the scene, convincing ourselves that we really did need to go for our bike ride. Before we left, I wandered over and asked one of the gentlemen in the shelter what the event was about. It was the Tuvaluan Independence Day celebration, he said. This was the Tuvalu community on Majuro, and there were celebrations just like this one happening all across the pacific today. In the US, we often find ourselves lumping groups together depending on where they’re from: Africans, Latin Americans, SE Asians, etc. Pacific Islanders are no exception. Yet here was a clear community – a group that identified all on its own, celebrating a unique heritage, a unique history, and one that I would be hard pressed to believe a single American would recognize. While I began watching the celebration fascinated by the island culture I was witnessing, I found myself almost ashamed to realize that I too had labeled this celebration as one of “island” culture, making no effort to distinguish between the diverse cultures that make up Micronesia, Melanesia and Polynesia. This is a part of the world that goes so unseen by so many of us in the west, and it becomes so easy to assume that the “Pacific Islands” share a common heritage and culture. I am exceptionally grateful to have stumbled upon this beautiful celebration, not only for the wonderful music and moments, but for the simple lesson in recognizing diversity it offered.
Beyond The Bubble II 