Majuro—Early morning on Friday, Oct. 31, 2014, I had just begun the long drive to get my kids to school in my 11-year-old used Audi that I imported from Japan earlier in the year. We live 20 miles out of town in Majuro, so it is normally about a 45-minute drive.
A couple of the kids in the backseat started arguing, so I started refereeing. This was not unusual, but it did distract me from keeping a keen eye on the road. Then I hit a pothole the size of a human grave. This was also not unusual in 2014, and it is not unusual now in 2024. Driving in Majuro is like maneuvering through a complicated video game, with all the small children, chickens, pigs, dogs, cats, speed bumps and potholes = you need to watch out for when venturing out onto our lone island road.
What was out of the ordinary was that when I hit that monstrous pothole at full force, it caused my upper jaw to crunch down onto my lower jaw, with my tongue caught in the middle, and at the exact same time, it tore the tire right off the back wheel of the Audi.
With a mouthful of blood, after letting loose a lengthy string of “French words” berating the government’s constant lack of attention to our motorway, I pulled over to change the tire. As the kids stood and watched me struggle to loosen the rusted-on lug nuts, I started thinking about what could be done to rectify this situation. (I always tried to instill this lesson in my children: if something in your society is not right, then you are obligated as a citizen to try to fix it.)
Facing a day of work covered in sweat and dirt after changing the tire, I got back into the car. For the umpteenth time, I heard a radio announcement that that very day –Friday, Oct. 31 at 5 p.m.– was the last day to turn in petitions to stand for the 2015 election to the Nitijela (parliament).
I called Suzanne Chutaro, co-director of my Marshallese films, who had repeatedly hinted that I should run for Nitijela. I asked if she could get a petition signed by the required number of voters and file it by 5 p.m. Within that short time frame, Suzanne got it done.
There was one major issue with my candidacy: A 20-plus-year-old law on the books said you had to have Marshallese blood, or a jowi, to be eligible to run for Nitijela. However, having researched the issue months before, I knew that the RMI Constitution did not have this requirement.
Through my attorney and friend David Strauss, we fought that election law in court, arguing that it was trumped by the Constitution. We won. The high court ruled that even though I am only a naturalized Marshall Islands citizen with no Marshallese blood, the Constitution allows me to stand for election to parliament and that I should immediately be placed on the ballot. I then became “BOX 14.”
ADVERTISEMENT
Some people, even a few of my close Marshallese friends, thought I should not have been given the ability to run. It didn’t bother me at all.
While the case was still in court, my long-time neighbor Jurelang Zedkaia, a former RMI president, a traditional leader and a sitting senator from Majuro at the time, agreed to my request to talk to him about the issue. That evening, while my kind wife waited in the car, Jurelang and I sat on his front porch and discussed my potential candidacy for the same Majuro parliament seat that he and 12 other people were also seeking. He told me in no uncertain terms that if the court agreed I had the right to run for a seat under the Constitution, then he had no objections. That was all I needed to hear.
I did not hold it against anyone who did not agree with my unusual quest. I completely understood that this involved the Marshallese sense of pride and identity, with which I empathized. (There is currently a Constitutional Convention proposal, soon be voted on, to amend our Constitution to require that a candidate for Nitijela must have a jowi —an amendment that I fully support).
I spent $168 on “BOX 14” bumper stickers, which was the full extent of my expenditure on my endeavor to become the first naturalized citizen in Marshall Islands history to sit in the Nitijela. I based my entire campaign on repairing the damn potholes.
In October 2015, a few weeks before the election, Jurelang Zedkaia suddenly passed away. Our entire community was devastated. He was greatly loved and admired. Though powerful, he was a friend to many and never hesitated to help others, including my family on several occasions.
The night before his funeral, which was to be held at the end of the island in Laura, I formed a crew consisting of my sons and some of their friends. We filled in every pothole over an 18-plus mile stretch of the road, from the airport to the end of the island, with sand and gravel. There were 123 potholes, so we had to labor all night and well into the early morning. By the time of his funeral that late afternoon, our community had tied multicolored ribbons on the coconut trees by the roadside from downtown to the funeral site. Thousands of mourners attended the event.
Thirteen candidates from Majuro ran for Nitijela in November 2015. Only the top five would get seats. I ranked ninth with 680 votes.
Shortly after the election, the potholes –again– were temporarily repaired. Unfortunately, the patch-ups lasted only a few months. The roads again became hellish, potholed, jaw-breaking and tire-puncturing as they are now in 2024. The powers-that-be take action only when they are overwhelmed with growing complaints.
There is a simple solution to provide a consistently safe driving environment for Majuro residents. The public works secretary needs to get a can of fluorescent orange spray paint and, on the first day of every month, spend a couple of hours on our road—from beginning to end—painting a circle around any pothole, even the small ones (which eventually turn into big ones). Then during the following days, the secretary must send public works crews to repair all of those dangerously destructive potholes.
Jack Niedenthal is the former secretary of Health Services for the Marshall Islands, where he has lived and worked for 43 years. He is the author of “For the Good of Mankind, An Oral History of the People of Bikini,” and president of Microwave Films, which has produced six award-winning feature films in the Marshallese language. Send feedback to jackniedenthal@gmail.com
Subscribe to
our digital
monthly edition
Comments