(08 May 88) I found a constable to show me the correct form when throwing the coral rock so I could take some snapshots for the record. As I mentioned before, a rock thrower looks for a flat rock, with rounded edges if possible , for accuracy and speed. He begins his motion by bringing the rock back and up, resting above his head. He then steps forward and throws the rock with the leg under the throwing hand placed forward at the release. The throw is either sidearm or slightly lower. Or he can bring the release up when the target is overhead. An expert can bring down a bird hovering overhead or flying parallel across the island. I heard that during the demonstrations on Kwajalein Atoll, some of the islanders used rocks against the Marshall Islands Police. Click to enlarge. Click again for full view.
(2) The Marshall Islands Journal announced that last year (1987) twenty-two Marshallese committed suicide, a record for islanders. All but four of these deaths were young males.
The Journal reported that a number of medical and public health officials met with the Nitijela (legislature) recently in the hope of finding solutions to this continuing tragedy.
Some facts: The rate of suicide for young males is “…8-10 times higher than in the U.S., seventy-five percent of the victims “…are between the ages of 15-30 and 80% have been drinking when they committed suicide.”
Fr. Fran Hezel, a Jesuit priest who resides in Truk, said that most suicides are by those who are caught up in change and are not equipped to handle it. They don’t fit… “…into either the old ways or the new ways.”
He noted that, “It is a phenomenon connected with a transitional period in a society going through painful changes.”
One hundred and twenty Marshallese have killed themselves since 1930 and most of those suicides have happened over the last two decades, according to Glorina Harris, coordinator of Mental Health.
Community action was stressed as a key to success in the fight against these self-destructive tendencies. A sense of direction must be given to those whose lives no longer have meaning.
(3) I met Constable Jibas* outside the DSC before transferring up to Roi. He had been on a drinking binge for a week and as he came through the checkpoint he was walking gingerly when I greeted him. I asked him what the problem was as he lit up a cigarette. The constables said it was some kind of domestic trouble.
“These two girls staying with us are a pain. They always want something. One of them asked me for twenty-five dollars and I said no.
“My wife was mad and told me to give her the money. The neighbors won’t like it if I don’t let her have the money.
“I said I don’t give a damn what they think. I don’t have enough to pay my bills now.”
He looked at the ground. “Where’re you heading now?”
“They fired me. Told me to turn in my things.”
“Sorry to hear that.” There was nothing I could say that would help at that point.
“I can’t support everybody.”
Jibas took a long draw on his cigarette, shook his head and began walking slowly toward the police station. I remembered Mayor Jacklick addressing that same problem during last summer’s interview.
I bet if I came back in 25 years, the situation wouldn’t be better. They had a culture and a history they were proud to be a part of and now their society is in disarray. Their paradise has been taken from them and there’s nothing they can do.
* Jibas is not his real name.
Filed under: Almost Paradise Volume 3
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