Love.

I shared this little piece of my heart four years ago on YouTube... just saw it has 23,000+ pageviews.  Little Marshallese superstars, right here <3

Happy Wednesday!

Nostalgia

"What do you miss?"

I can't describe it in words.  Really, there is no way you would understand.  And you probably won't even get it with the pictures.  Because honestly, how can you capture love so deep that you didn't know it could exist outside of your own family?  Or share how a small, tiny island in the middle of nowhere -- one that many told you would be the worst spot on the globe -- would open up such beauty to you, despite the ramshackle houses and trash littering the street?

Really, I can't tell it and you won't get it... and I have come to make peace with that.  But yes, I miss THIS.  I miss my name being "Missa" and my hands being constantly held by little fingers covered with dirt.  I miss ice cream on the dock at night when the power was out and the relief of the power coming back on.  I do not miss the cockroaches, but I do miss the adventure they provided.

I miss the growth I felt -- the awareness that the whole world really can exist on an island about a quarter of a square mile in size.  Because really, what is the world?  It is people living, breathing, moving, existing side by side, those you come in contact with on a regular basis and those you have learned to love as your lives weave in and out of each other's.

I miss the joy of simplicity.

The friendships that were unlikely.

The coming-to-an-understanding that my life 'back home' did not define reality.

I miss THIS.

And though Cinderella and her prince lived happily ever after, 

the point, gentlemen, is that they lived. 

 (quote taken from 'Ever After')

Tilapia with Bell Peppers and Parsley-Spiked Couscous

A few years back, while teaching on the island of Ebeye, I encountered a problem with words.  It started while reading Encyclopedia Brown with my 5th graders.

"Then Encyclopedia and... and..." the little girl stopped.

"Phoebe," I suggested.

"... and" then she dropped her voice down to a whisper, "Phoebe followed the trail.
Popcorn Manty."  She let out a sigh of relief and relaxed back into her chair.

It was Manty's turn to read, but he just looked at the book for a moment.  Finally he read, "Fo-ay-bee and Encyclopedia..."

"Phoebe, it's Phoebe."

"Um, ok... 'she picked up her magnifying glass and looked down at the ground.'  Popcorn Bokjuwa."  Another sigh of relief, another body relaxing into a wooden chair.

Man, I thought, what is with these kids today?  You would think that after me telling them it is Phoebe for the fifteenth time, they would get it.  

But no, Bokjuwa had the same problem.  Except hers was pronounced like Foo-bay.

"Guys, it's Fee-bee.  FEE-BEE.  Say it with me."

Silence.

And then a hand shot up.  "Miss?" Pamela called out, "Um, that name, that word, um..."  She hesitated for a minute and then blurted it out, "In our language it means, you know, a girl's..." Then she glanced down at her crotch.

Oops.

I learned a valuable lesson that day.  Don't name your daughter Phoebe if there is any chance she may live in the Marshall Islands some day.

It wasn't long after that my roommate and I were making some couscous for dinner.  A neighbor girl, originally from the island of Pohnpei, was doing her homework at out table.  Lisa and I kept talking, but every time we said "couscous" Dixie started to giggle.  Finally, I asked her what was up.

"Oh Miss!  Couscous," giggle giggle, "it means something kind of bad in my language."  And then she giggled some more.

So, couscous.  What does it mean in Pohnpeian?  Like she said, something 'kind of bad'.  Not anything I can repeat here, being family-friendly and all.  I will let your imaginations run with that one.  But let's just say that every time I cook couscous, I giggle.

But dinner tonight?  No giggling needed.  Straight-up good.  Good for you, good tasting, and good on the wallet.  Tilapia with bell pepper and some parsley spiked couscous.

Couscous.

*Giggle, giggle*

Recipe from Everyday with Rachael Ray, March 2011

  Serves:  4          Prep Time:  10 minutes          Total Time: 20 minutes

Ingredients

TipGrate the lemon peel and stir it into the couscous.

TipDust the tilapia with flour before cooking to give it a light crust.

TipMake fish tacos by serving the cooked tilapia and vegetables with warm flour tortillas and salsa.

• 1 7.6 ounce box  couscous

• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley

• Salt and pepper

• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

• 4 skinless tilapia fillets (about 1 1/4 pounds), patted dry

• 2 lemons, cut into wedges

• 2 bell peppers, cut into thin strips

• 1 onion, thinly sliced

Directions

1. In a small saucepan, bring 1 1/2 cups salted water to a boil; remove from the heat, stir in the couscous, cover and let stand for 5 minutes. Using a fork, stir in 1/2 cup parsley, salt and pepper. Keep warm.
2. Meanwhile, in a large nonstick skillet, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat. Season the fish with salt and pepper, add to the pan and cook, turning once, until golden-brown and just cooked through, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter, squeeze a wedge of lemon over each fillet and tent with foil to keep warm.
3. Using the same skillet, heat the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Add the bell peppers and onion and season with salt and pepper; cook until softened and golden-brown, 6 to 8 minutes. Spoon the vegetables over the tilapia and sprinkle with the remaining 2 tablespoons parsley. Serve with the couscous and remaining lemon wedges.

COST:  $11.12     COST PER SERVING (4): $2.78

Put a little love in the mail... (Oreo Brownies)

Let me share a some facts about this little, often unknown island in the Pacific called Ebeye:

• 80 acres of space
• 15,000 people
• 50% of which are under 18
• more densely populated than Hong Kong
• often called the 'slum of the Pacific'
• my home for half of a year in 2007

Or, in the words of Lonely Planet, "The people of Ebeye live very simple accommodation; many are one-room shacks and lean-tos of plywood, tin and plastic sheeting, jammed together in tenement conditions with little water. Residents haul drums of drinking water in from Kwaj (the local US army base) on the ferry; piped water is only available at certain times, so fill up containers when it comes. The electricity supply is getting better but blackouts are still common.

Needless to say, Ebeye is not a big tourist spot, but the people are very friendly, especially the children. It's different."

My facts might be a little different.  Yes, I lost count of the number of cockroaches I killed at 47 (because when you get to 47 you know, it all just says the same thing -- A LOT). 

The number of nights I had these evil creatures fall on my face while sleeping is tallied at 4.  That I know of.

Days without power and no water?  Plenty.

Bloody, absessed teeth that flew up into my face while holding a screaming child at the dental office?  One.

Number of textbooks to teach from?  Zero.

Amount of the most beautiful children in the world I was surrounded by?  Countless.

So, what do brownies have to do with Ebeye?  Everything.

While I lived there my cooking skills were, um, limited.  If it didn't come from a box, it didn't have a place in my kitchen. 

Brownies, luckily, come in a box (if you so choose).  Oreos come already made.  You mix those two together and you have an easy masterpiece, one that grown ups and children alike can enjoy.  And enjoy them we did.  Class parties, birthday parties, just-to-eat-brownie parties, my fifth graders and I found plenty of excuses to eat Oreo Brownies. 

But then I came home.  My heart was broken to 31 little pieces and remained behind in Ebeye as the rest of me traveled back to the United States.  And my Oreo Brownies?  They stayed in Ebeye as well, never to be eaten again by me.

Until I saw one of those fifth graders, all grown up into a high school junior, come to Standford and study in the Junior Statesmen of America program, representing his island nation.  I proudly watched as he graduated the program and headed back to Ebeye, head full of knowledge and wisdom.  Finally, I had a reason to make Oreo Brownies again. 

See the boy on my lap?  Now he is my size, and represents his country well.

These brownies and I shared a moment.  I was there, making them (and by that I mean, opening the box and adding oil and eggs.  I will not lie) and I headed to my computer and saw that a whole conversation was going on under a picture of this young man and I, mostly in a language I cannot understand.  But there were parts I did get.  Professions of love for me, declarations by many that I was their favorite teacher, and then one young man asking me to make some brownies and send them to him in Ebeye. 

I cannot tell you exactly why, but the tears started to fall.  And not just lightly.  The kind of tears when your shoulders shake and snot starts running down.  I sat down on the couch and, for the first time in several years, cried for my children in Ebeye. 

You know, these weren't tears of missing them necessarily.  They weren't tears of sadness, either.  For some reason the fact that they were asking for something that I was presently doing for them, and the sense of connection across the years and timezones that this represented in my heart... I cried tears of love.  And tears of gratefulness.  Gratefulness that I had the opportunity to go meet these children, and become a part of their lives, and have them grow me and shape me into a better person. 

So, yes, these are just brownies with crumbled Oreo's in them.  I have no special recipe for you today.  You can go ahead and make some, and you will enjoy them, I am sure.  But for me, these brownies hold a piece of my heart.  And it is a piece that will forever live where the sun shines bright and smiling children roam.