Living on Satawan - In the early 1970s
In the early 70's my wife and I were teachers (Peace Corps Volunteers) on Satawan. I would also work on Ta, Oneop and Lukonor. I could walk to Ta from Satawan, probably 5 to 7 miles with a couple of hundred yards of low reef between them, waist high at most. The village on Ta was at the opposite end of the island, and the story was that there was a fierce typhoon somewhere around 1914 and many people were swept off the island, and many were relocated by the Germans to other islands.
To get to Oneop and Lukonor, we took a small boat with single outboard motor, they were just on the horizon, about 12 to 15 miles away. We approached the Oneop reef in total darkness one night and one guy just jumped in with a rope to find the "cut" that had been blasted through the reef. It was dangerous for all, but we all made it.
There was a German protestant missionary on Oneop, and at the opposite end of the lagoon was an American Jesuit missionary on Lukonor. He had been captured by the Japanese in the Philippines and survived the war. He procured a double masted schooner in California in the '50's and sailed it to his new post. It was called "Star of the Sea" and he wrote a book about the whole endeavor which was published. His name was Fr. Rively. There were still standing some Japanese buildings at the dock on Lukonor, with fine wooden craftsmanship. When one was on the stone dock, manta rays would come in and circle in the clear water.
Back on Satawan, we knew a guy who had been a cook for the Japanese during the war, and he would occasionally cook a meal for us. There were many relics of the war on Satawan, small tanks, many craters, some trucks, and a couple of small planes on pads. Offshore there were some planes in the water, one was upside down, and a couple of boats. There was a rusty ack ack gun on the beach. We would occasionally go night snorkeling on the reef to see the strange things that come out at night. At low tide the men on Satawan would go onto the reef (at full moon), and using an umbrella, catch lobsters. The shadow of the umbrella would be like a cave for the lobsters, and they were easy picking. Also, at very low tide, the boys would go out onto the dry reef and catch eels with machetes and put them into sacks.
The most amazing event was the laluh, which was held about 5 miles down the reef. Most of the men would go there early and construct a long net from palm fronds, others would be in dugouts more or less waiting for a large school of mackerel to travel up the reef. Then, when sighted, one man would blow a conch horn and the net would be dropped in a large semi circle, then the rope holding it all together would be drawn towards the beach from both ends. Finally, in the middle was an enormous school of mackerel (and hopefully no sharks), and we literally grabbed them by hand and shoved them onto the boats. We got back about 2 in the morning with a ton of fish, which was divided amongst the families. Cooking started immediately and the fish were eaten until they were gone, since there was little or no refrigeration on the island.
One friend had an allergic reaction to the fish, which may have had red tide or eaten fire coral, and half of him turned bright red. We thought he was a goner, but he recovered to see another day. Another pastime on the island was for the boys to catch monitor lizards. These lizards liked to climb trees like squirrels, always on the opposite side from you. They could be 4 to 5 feet in length. One day a young boy, maybe 6, caught a large bat and it flapped too hard for him and got away, but it was weak, and it went to the safest place it could find, which was up the skirt of his sister, who was maybe 5. There was a lot of kicking and screaming, and she still probably hasn't got over it.
The language on Satawan was a variant of Trukese, just some consonants were substituted, the islanders were always apparent on Moen (center of Chuuk), by their quaint accents. We hope to return to Satawan. More smiling faces on that small island than in all the state of New Jersey.
Bob and Evelyn Perodeau - Morristown, New Jersey