Palau #1: The Rhythm of Palau

THE NATION OF PALAU  IS LIKE A  PERFECTLY-BALANCED TOP.  It spins and spins, balancing naturally, and then starts to wobble. It rights itself and keeps going.  It may slow at times, but everything evens out and…it works.  It keeps going.

Since 1918 Palau has been in a game of Tag out in the Pacific, a plane-ride southeast of the Philippines and west of Guam.  Whichever nation has thought it could get something from this friendly, “Rock Island” nation has done so.  In 1885, Spain claimed it as part of the Caroline Islands.  In 1899, Germany bought Palau from the Spaniards.  Germany had been awarded trade and mining rights in 1885.  In 1901 steamships from Germany began to arrive on Angaur, mining phosphates using local and Chinese workers.

A friend of mine named Rehine (Regina), relative of  Pelauan YWAMer Linda Subris, just returned from an outreach on Anguar. They are still trying to re-balance after that German mining. Bombs were shot off to open up the rock for better phosphate access.   The Germans brought monkeys to the island, concluding if they didn’t come out of the holes in the rock, then they knew it wasn’t safe for humans.  The monkeys survived.  The only problem is, the monkeys were never eradicated.  Now, over a century later, those few monkeys have multiplied and spread to two other regions of Anguar.  They’re ruining their crops, digging up anything the locals plant.  The people plant starts upside down, as they know that a monkey will come after them and dig it up and “plant it,” putting it in now-right-side up.  Houses are pillaged by the primates, fridges are opened, and containers of food emptied.  The frantic folks finally have permission to shoot the monkeys in a too-late attempt to limit their numbers. 

The pay the land owners were given from the Germans for leaving gaping holes in their land and forever-fixing it with monkeys?  Farm equipment.  Yes, they gave them one hoe for one hole.  I know this because it is Rehin’s relatives who own the land.  They did not know that the farm tools were not valuable.  They trusted the white Europeans.  In her visit last week, Rehin found that the local believers at Anguar harbored unforgiveness towards the Germans. In God’s mercy, he provided four Germans on her Impact Team that traveled to love on this lesser-known island of Palau.  With gentle prodding, one of the Germans, a pastor, stood up one day for all the Germans who had taken advantage of the Palauans at Anguar, and said he was sorry.  “Gezuindheidt for putting up with what my grandfathers did to your grandfathers.  Please forgive my people.  We want you to be blessed, to recover and bounce back from this, and to thrive.” 

They received this humble apology. And their hearts were changed. Though a dozen children were expected at the VBS that week, twice that amount came, necessitating a call back to the Koror church office for more certificates.  As Rehin was turning to leave on the boat back to Koror, a woman grabbed her hand.  She was shaking.  She put a note in the hand of Rehin, that said she had been planning to commit suicide.  Rehin looked at the woman and had compassion for her like Christ did (Mt 9:36).  Rehin hugged her, prayed with her, and spoke hope into her life.  The woman stopped shaking and chose life. 

As I climb in the Japanese-made automobile to teach my evening session to the local Palauan teachers, I glance at my watch:  18 minutes should be enough time—if the stray dogs aren’t bad tonight.  The dogs are bad though.  I almost hit two en route to Emmaus High School where we gather.  I swerve to miss one pedestrian, in black, running across the curvy road in front of my white-boxed car.  Thankfully, I miss both.  I slow, and re-balance myself on the right side of the road while driving from the right side of the car. 

On the way home, it is pouring again—another deluge in this rainy season of July—and I am grateful, as I can balance my way home on curvy roads with killer potholes—and no dogs out in the rain. Cars come and go from side roads, and never seem to honk or slam on their brakes.  They just do this islander-adjustment-dance, like a top spinning, until all is upright again.    

As I finish up one of the last sessions training local teachers, I learn of a bias in  “Belau.” It’s towards Americans.  After the Spanish gave it to the Germans, the Japanese took it over in 1914, until the Americans “rescued” them after heavily bombing Koror* as part of the War in the Pacific in 1944.  As Fuana tells me, one man looked out his window and asked, “Which flag is it today?”  But they’ve bounced back.  They honor any American who comes to teach, assuming they must be smarter and wiser and richer.  The teachers wonder aloud how they can teach their own as I step aside and allow Fuana to assume leadership.  “How will they listen to us?”  We will do the dance and I will shift from trainer to coach on the side. The Palauans will lead their own people.

*Palau Dive Sites, History, and Culture  Compiled by Gunther Deichmann, Kevin Davidson, and Ethan Daniels, Dream Time Publishing, Manila, Philippines 2007.