The Death of Mark Jokdru as reported by Jack Niedenthal, interview with Mark Jokdru, January 1990 [picture: Mark Jokdru]
The legends of the islands seem to indicate that the most important and central figure in the Marshallese family unit is the mother. The reason why this family member is so valued dates back to antiquity. Women are the backbone of the society because the land has been passed down through them over the course of many generations. Marshall Islanders--as opposed to our paternal, Western society--generally wish for their babies to be girls.
One day in the liaison office in Majuro, I asked Mark Jokdru, who was a very strong-looking man of well over sixty years (he had to wear very thick glasses to compensate for his waning eye sight), if he would elaborate on some of the legends that surround the three particular clans or bwij of the Bikinian people: the Ijidrik, the Mokaulij and the Ri-Namo. This story also involves another very important feature about Marshallese custom: The value of food. In Marshallese custom it is considered a taboo to refuse food when someone offers it to you. It is also considered an insult not to take it when it is offered. And that's another reason why I quickly stopped being a vegetarian after I arrived on the outer islands.
MARK JOKDRU: "My story is about two Bikinian women. Many years ago these lillaps [old women] became very famous because they were responsible for saving the people of Bikini from extinction. The names of these two women were Liketlok [LEEK-it-lock], and her mother, Neiwa [NAY-wa].
"One day, because most of the local food on the main island had been thoroughly depleted, all of the Bikinians decided to sail for the outer islands of Bikini in order to gather some additional food. Once at sea their large canoes, heavily loaded down with supplies and therefore hard to control, were taken quickly away from Bikini island by a strong wind. The drifting of the craft terrified all the people onboard. All of a sudden, the iroij who was in the lead boat stood up, and shouted, 'The reason that this canoe is so unseaworthy is because of those two women whom I believe are unlucky.' When he pointed at Liketlok and Neiwa, they cowered down in the canoe because of the embarrassment of having been singled out among the other people. The iroij demanded that all the canoes return to the island.
"When they were close to the beach, he picked up the two women's sleeping mats and supplies and threw them overboard into the lagoon. Liketlok jumped off the boat and picked up her mother's belongings and struggled to carry them ashore, but when she glanced back towards the outrigger, she could see that the iroij was ready to throw her mother into the water, so she swam out to the boat and helped Neiwa back to the beach of Bikini where they both fell onto the sand, exhausted.
"About this time the sun was going down and the two women could see the huge canoes sailing off to the other islands of Bikini without them. Once they were out of sight, Liketlok and her mother, Neiwa, now alone on the beach, began to think about what they could do to get back to the village that was located far away in the center of the island. Hunger quickly set in and drove Liketlok to run back toward her house in an attempt to find something with which to make a fire. She left her starving, wet and weakened mother behind. By the time she reached the village it was very late at night and the cooking fires which had been used that morning were almost out. She knelt before one of the ground ovens that still had some pinkish-red coals showing. She managed to bring their flames back to life by blowing on them with quick, short breaths. Liketlok then ran back with the hot coals, now wrapped in fronds. Her mother had fallen asleep."
"Mark, why did the Bikinians leave their island to search for food?"
"The reason that the people of the community left the island in the first place was due to the fact that they thought most of the locally grown food had been completely exhausted. That is important to the story, because Liketlok soon discovered, as she searched through the outskirts of the island towards the beach, that there were still some birds and wild fruits left untouched by the impatient sailors. She happily gathered as much food as she could catch and carry, then returned to her mother.
"Liketlok again found the place where she had left Neiwa. In order to keep the fire going, she went to a dead konou tree and set it ablaze with the coals that she possessed. She then rummaged around under the palm fronds that were scattered on the ground. She gathered many crabs and took them back to where the fire was burning brightly and roasted them to perfection. Liketlok and her mother ate every last one of the crabs and also the other food that she had brought from the jungle. Sitting beside the fire after their meal they enjoyed a warm, secure and happy feeling; though they now had an immense desire to drink. Neiwa began to whimper that her mouth was very dry and that she needed water, so Liketlok went to a kanel tree and obtained the rainwater that had collected in holes formed in the base of the trunk. They both drank lustily and to their hearts content. While lying together on the ground Liketlok asked Neiwa how she felt now that she had had something to drink and the old woman answered, 'I'm better, but I'm still hungry.'
"Liketlok sighed, all this effort to satisfy her mother's hunger was beginning to tire her out, though she knew that it was important to keep her mother happy. She decided to try gathering some young kalo and bijwa birds that were yet unable to fly. Also she searched for their unhatched eggs, which were not only edible, but very delicious. The hunt successful, she cleaned some clam shells which she found on the beach and used them for cooking pots. She baked the birds and the eggs over the fire and afterwards they ate heartily. Then Liketlok again asked her mother, 'How are you feeling now?' Neiwa replied, 'I think I am stronger, but my health still is not good.'
"The routine of Neiwa feeling poorly and Liketlok vainly searching for food to keep her alive went on for some time. One night, during a full moon, Liketlok thought that it might be the right time for lobster hunting. The tide was very low and she could see many creatures walking around upon the reef in the bright moonlight. She stepped carefully out onto the exposed coral heads and into the little pools that had formed on them, and found that she was surrounded by dozens of huge lobsters. She quickly filled two baskets. She returned to the camp and roasted the shellfish to a delightful, bright red color.
"When the lobsters were devoured Liketlok could see that her mother, Neiwa, was now able to fully move her hands and arms for the first time in weeks. This made Liketlok immensely happy. She had thought before that perhaps her mother was going to die. Thereafter, Liketlok hunted every night for shellfish and made sure her mother always had a steady diet.
"After a couple of weeks had passed Neiwa was able to stand for a short time and appeared to be on her way back to normal health. One night, Liketlok had gone out again to look for lobster, and after gathering several baskets full, she returned and found footprints on the beach! She ran to tell her mother about her discovery. Her mother told her that she, herself, had been out walking, and that they were her footprints. Liketlok, upon realizing that her mother was able to walk again, was encouraged enough to go out fishing every day. She brought back many different kinds of fish to eat, including baret, mou mou, and imim. The mother and the daughter smoked and dried the fish. They filled many baskets and then packed them away.
"They lived off these fish for many days until finally the iroij and the rest of the people, all near death from starvation because of an unusually unsuccessful food gathering expedition, returned to Bikini. When the women saw the canoes sailing toward the island they waited patiently on the beach. Once the iroij and his people were on land, they approached them and presented all the food that they had prepared and preserved during their lonely stay on the island. The iroij and the other people were overjoyed and held many feasts honoring Liketlok and Neiwa before the entire community. These two women became known as the saviors of the people of Bikini."
The Death of Mark Jokdru
In early March of 1991, I received a call from Kili saying that Mark was very sick. The next day, when a plane brought him to Majuro, his family picked him up at the airport and checked him into the hospital. Hours later, when I went to visit him with then Mayor Tomaki Juda and Senator Henchi Balos, it saddened me to see this energetic, muscular old man lying on his back connected up to little blue tubes. A huge green iron tank of oxygen stood beside his bed. Attached to the large canister, a little clear plastic container of eerie looking fluid bubbled away. Mark was in a coma.
He remained in a coma for several days. Finally, the doctors sent him off to Honolulu for further treatment. Seeing Mark sick reminded me why these storytelling sessions are so important: Normally, when Marshallese storytellers die, their tales go to the grave with them. When an old man or woman leaves my office, I often get hit with the realization that I may never see them again. The nobility that a Bikinian elder subtly displays has been earned by surviving a half-century filled with great trial and tribulation. I have found their kindness and ability to care about others to be unmatched, and Mark was as kind as they come. He was the one who had saved Joji Laiso in 1948 from a possible drowning at the hands of the American foreman while building the original houses on Kili Island, a story found on this web site. All of the Bikinians harbored a tremendous amount of respect for him.
While in Honolulu, in April of 1991, Mark Jokdru passed away. Several days after he died, early one morning, the body arrived in Majuro on what was then a regularly scheduled Air Marshalls flight. The metallic gray casket was taken to a house just across the yard from where I was living. At an appointed time, most of the 500 members of the Bikinian community living on Majuro met outside the house where the body lay in state. Because the mayor and the senator were off island at the time, Nathan Note, who is a seventy-four-year-old traditional leader, or alap, led our procession into the house.
There are two major causes for large ritual gatherings in the Marshall Islands: The celebration and prayer at the end of a baby's first year of life, called a kemem, when they say a child has "le jen mij" or lived beyond that time when an infant might die from illness. The second ritual gathering occurs when there is a death in the community. A Marshallese funeral has three phases: The ilomij, which is similar to a wake in Western society, the kallib, which is the actual burial, and the araak, which is the feast that normally tales place six days after the burial. For either of the two events described above, money is no object: it is expected that everyone should give what they can to help the family that is hosting the ceremony.
To begin Mark's ilomij, a large group of people, most of them community leaders and Councilmen, filed into the room. We all approached the body. Several older women, all of whom were quietly weeping, sat around the coffin and fanned the deceased to keep the flies from landing on his body. Each person in turn reached over and dropped a dollar bill into the coffin; this rite is performed to show sorrow for the family of the deceased. Around the casket, which had been set down upon a freshly woven pandanus leaf sleeping mat, lay hundreds of flowers; some plastic, some real. In each of the four corners of the casket were little metal figures of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus. In the center of each side of the box, small gray iron castings of the Last Supper had been carefully placed.
As more people entered the room, they continued to first pay their respects by laying dollar bills on the body of the deceased. From where I was sitting, I could see Mark's face clearly. Death had made him appear so peaceful. He was dressed in a standard black suit and tie, though his thick eyeglasses had been removed.
Nathan, who sat beside me, stood up and introduced Jacob Johnson, an elder who had been one of Mark's best friends.
Jacob, who was nearly seventy years old at the time [he died in June of 2001], struggled to stand up. He wore pink sunglasses, a brown and yellow-flowered print shirt and black polyester trousers. As he looked down upon the body of his friend, Jacob tried to speak, but his quivering mouth failed to expel his words. He paused, recollected himself, rolled his tongue over his crusty dry lips, and then began to talk: "Mark was always the man up front." Jacob hesitated, looked down at the ground and stopped talking.
The room fell into a pained silence. Nothing could be heard except for the sound of an occasional sputtering pickup truck on the potholed road outside and the distant shouts of children playing volleyball across the street.
Jacob took a deep breath, started speaking again: "Mark was always the first man on the boat. When we went to Rongerik, Mark was part of the group that helped us set up our community there. When the Americans wanted to move us to Kwajalein, Mark was also there to make sure that we were taken care of properly. He and I were like one person. I remember that when we were young men, whenever Mark went sailing, I went with him. When he went fishing, I was the one who accompanied him. He was a great storyteller; Mark Jokdru kept the tales of our exodus alive. In many ways, he was like a father to us all. He was so brave and so strong. I look at his family in front of me here, and I know how sad they must feel. But God has decided to take him. No one understands how God works, we just know that it is now time for Mark to join Him." Jacob looked down at his lifeless friend, whispered, "Mark, before I sit down, I just want to wish you a pleasant journey, and may God be with you always." Jacob lifted his head, stared at Mark's grieving wife, and stated, "Finally, I just want to thank the family for allowing me to speak today, it has truly been an honor."
Jacob sat back down. After several more people spoke, one of Mark's nephews stood up to thank everyone for coming to the ilomij. He announced that outside there was cola, doughnuts and cookies for refreshments. The people in the room slowly got up to leave.
Several days later, after the remaining members of Mark's family arrived in Majuro from Kili, we gathered on a plot of land for the kallib, or burial. The hole in the ground had been dug in the afternoon. Later on, about an hour before sunset, people began arriving in groups of twos and threes. The early comers sat beneath some shade trees and waited for the others to appear. The members of the family, from the youngest of the children to the oldest of adults, were dressed in clothing that at least had some black coloring in the fabric; some of the dresses, poetically, were black with white flowers.
Six men carried the casket over from the house where the ilomij had been held. They placed the coffin beside the deep hole. Because it was high tide, the bottom of the grave was filled with the green, brackish water of the sea. Several men set about in an attempt to locate bricks that could be thrown into the trench to prevent the casket from being lowered into the water. A common last wish of a dying islander is that he or she be buried only in dry ground. After a few minutes had elapsed, a few of the younger men returned with their arms loaded down with cinderblocks. Carefully, they lowered the heavy bricks onto the bottom of the sea-filled hole. Once the family was convinced that the fill was adequate, the speeches began. Four or five leading citizens praised Mark in much the same fashion that Jacob had done at the ilomij.
With the aid of thick yellow plastic cords, which had been tied onto both sides of the coffin, several of the men lowered the casket into the ground. Five or six people were called forward to throw a shovel full of dirt into the hole. I watched as Jacob awkwardly dug his blade into the side of the little mound of dirt and stone. He gazed momentarily at the earth on the shovel. He dropped the clay onto the metal top of the coffin, mumbled sadly, "Yokwe Mark, Anij Ibam." [Good-by Mark, God be with you.]
Once the grave had been filled, people began to wander back to their cars. Six days later we had a great feast, the araak. It is believed that for the time between the burial and the feast the spirit of the deceased stays on the earth. Just before the feast, a few last words are said, then each important member of the community takes a small woven basket of fresh white coral and pours and spreads it beside the grave. When this is completed, it is believed that the spirit of the deceased has been released from the earth. Immediately afterwards, to celebrate the loved one's life, a dinner takes place with enough food to feed hundreds of people. And so it was for Mark Jokdru, a very courageous and wonderful man.
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