From the WAC Institute 2003
By Kristine Smith
Kapi`olani Community College, Developmental Writing
Although it might have happened anywhere, my encounter with the green banana started on a small island in the Pacific. As a Peace Corps volunteer , I was living and working in Chuuk, Micronesia. I was traveling to another island by boat to visit another volunteer when smoke started to pour out of the engine. Although I felt somewhat panicked about the prospect of drifting for days on open ocean waiting to come across another boat to rescue our ravaged, sun scorched bodies, Tituse, an old Micronesian navigator with gray hair, dark wrinkled skin and three tattooed dolphins spanning from the top of his thigh to his ankle, remained perfectly calm. He said something in Chuukese to Domingo, his grandson and the only other person on the boat. Then Domingo started pulling in the fishing lines. When the lines were all in, Tituse turned the motor off and went over to take a look. He removed the wood boards that covered the engines made a few grunts and said some words in Chuukese to Domingo. Then he started the engine up again and headed for a tiny speck in the horizon. In a couple of minutes, we were anchoring in front of a tiny island.
Again, Tituse said some words in Chuukese and Domingo, with a machete in his hand, jumped off the boat and started swimming for shore. While Domingo was gone, Tituse, speaking some Chuukese and some broken English so that I would understand, told me we had a hole in the cooling system so our engine was overheating. He must have seen my body tense or caught a glimmer of fear in my face because he then told me not to worry and with a nonchalant air cast out his fishing line.
In a few minutes, and just as I was putting more sun screen on my face, I saw Domingo on the shore with some green bananas. I thought this was a little strange since the Chuukese believe that bananas are bad luck on a boat and therefore never travel with bananas, but as I peered out toward the island, sure enough, Domingo was swimming back to the boat with the green bananas in his hand. Tituse grabbed the bananas while Domingo hitched himself up the side of the boat. Then Tituse cut one of the bananas in half and pressed the cut end to the casing of the cooling system and, to my astonishment, the banana melted into a paste against the hot metal, sealing the hole instantly. After an hour, we applied a second application, tossed the rest of the bananas overboard and were on our way.
As a product of American higher education, I had never paid the slightest attention to the green banana. But as I reflected on it further, I realized that the green banana had been there all along. The islanders had known about it for years. This experience showed me not only the potential of the green banana, but also the special genius of those people. They had a relationship with nature that I had never experienced before: the land and sea around them provided their food, medicine, shelter, decorations and spirituality. They possessed an intimate knowledge of their environment and they passed this knowledge on generation after generation.
My brief sojourn with the Chuukese taught me many things, but probably the most important is that the world is full of unexpected green bananas.
