Sakau

Last Friday, I tried sakau for the first time. Sakau is the local intoxicant of choice, similar to kava, made from the pulverized, strained roots of a pepper plant. Several Pohnpeian traditions involve the drinking of sakau, and for many, it's also a good way to end the work week.

I went with my father-in-law, who is here to visit, and a group of friends, all menwai (the local word for foreigners). We arrived at one of the local sakau markets at about six pm, where we ran into the current governor of Pohnpei. I was told that because they use the same root all night, the sakau is strongest the earlier you go - kind of like if you were to make coffee by using the same grounds over and over. By the end of the night, it apparently gets pretty watery.

Ours, however, was thick like mud. To be honest, it even kind of looked and tasted like mud, and actually probably did contain a fair amount of dirt. The tradition is that the oldest person at the table drinks first, then passes around the coconut shell from which we all take a drink. It's apparently bad luck to finish the cup, so someone comes around and refills it before it ever gets completely empty… and by "bad luck," I suspect they mean that it's particularly nasty for whoever gets a mouthful of the sediment at the bottom of the cup.

The standard rate is ten dollars for as much as you can drink, and being that this was my first time, I really didn't know where my limits were. I had been told that sakau doesn't really affect you the first few times you drink it, but I quickly found this to not be the case. Within ten minutes, my lips were numb, followed shortly thereafter by my mouth and the back of my throat. Pretty soon, I think my entire brain was a bit numb.

When I stood up to use the restroom, I walked like a baby moose in wet cement. My motor functions were definitely impaired, but I could nonetheless continue to think relatively clearly, enough that I could watch myself move like this and be kind of amused by it. At this point, the numbness had spread throughout my body to a certain degree, and I felt very relaxed. My brain was flooded with endorphins. Overall, it was a very pleasant sensation. Once you get past the taste, I could see why a lot of people do this every Friday.

After a few hours of drinking sakau, we walked back to my friend's house, where we had a couple of beers, which is apparently also part of the tradition. This, I believe, was my big mistake. Before long, it felt like a fight was breaking out in my stomach, as if some jerk had crashed the party and was looking to cause some trouble. That jerk's name was San Miguel Light. By the time I got home, a full-blown riot had broken out in my digestive system, enough to supersede my otherwise serene state of mind. By about three a.m., the sakau wanted out, and as much as I dislike vomiting, I was happy to oblige. After that, I was finally able to get to sleep.

Overall, it was a fun experience, right up until the part where I got sick. The next day, we were all pretty tired, too. In fact, we cancelled our plans to go hiking and kayaking in favor of laying around doing nothing all day. By Sunday, I was still feeling kind of groggy, but at least the queasiness had subsided.

Would I do it again? It's hard to say. To be perfectly honest, just writing about this has recalled the sense memories of getting sick, so if I ever do drink sakau again, it will have to be far enough into the future that the mere thought of it doesn't make me queasy. Of course, I now have a better sense of my limits and know that I probably shouldn't drink beer afterward, but as fun as it was, I can't say that I have any desire to do this again anytime soon. Nonetheless, I'm thankful for the experience.