Arno Love School
Many people have never heard of the Marshall Islands or if they have it may only have been in reference to Bikini where nuclear testing was once done. A few more may have heard of Kwajalein, a US Army missile test site, and some may have heard of the World Class SCUBA diving and fishing that exists here. But those who have been to the islands and certainly those lonely men on Roi-Namur would have heard of the legendary Arno Atoll. While conducting my in-depth research on the subject of Arno I came across this description of Arno on the internet:…
‘People of Arno are well known for their productivity in making copra (the dried out meat of coconuts, from which coconut oil is extracted). Arno women are renowned for their production of the Kili Bag, a popular handwoven handbag/purse, named after another island in the Marshall Islands (to which the people of Bikini were eventually relocated as a result of the US nuclear tests that were conducted on their home atoll). Arno supposedly had a traditional “love school”.’
At this “love school” it was reported that older women taught younger women how to excel in marital (not martial) arts, specifically one that is usually associated with the bedroom (if there was a bedroom – many homes in the Marshalls do not have separate bedrooms). So while the web-site I surfed claimed that Arno women are renowned for their production of the Kili Bag, I have to question who decides when someone reaches renowned status. During my almost 3 years in the beautiful Marshall Islands whenever someone mentioned Arno it was in reference to the “Love School” and I don’t recall ever hearing of the kili bag.
Despite my best efforts, I never did make it to Arno though I have since found you can hire a boat to take you there from Majuro. But it was always my ambition to be a teacher there. I wonder if I could get a job through world teach. To a lonely soul on Roi the love school conjures up an image of a class room setting complete with blackboards and diagrams where seasoned veteran women teach beautiful young ladies the fine art of love making while down the hall in the laboratory the class room lessons are demonstrated on a happy volunteer (usually in my image I was that happy volunteer).
I mentioned Arno to my friend Junior Reimers and he told me the following story about Arno and if I don’t have it right the error is on my part for not remembering correctly. According to Junior, sometime in the past the local chief was not satisfied with his love life so he said that whoever could satisfy him could become his wife. This was open to any family and not just to royalty (iroj). There would be a significant financial advantage to a family whose daughter became a chief’s wife so mothers across the atoll schooled their daughters on certain techniques that I won’t go into considering this is a family web-site. He didn’t go into who was the lucky lady to become the chief’s wife was but in my mind it was the chief who was the real lucky one. So that is how the whole legend of the love school got started according to my friend here in Tucson. The tradition of teaching such techniques was passed down until recent times.
If any of my other Marshallese friends has more accurate information please let me know and if you need a teacher’s assistant for Arno, well, BE SURE TO CONTACT ME!!!
Technorati Tags: Arno Love School, Majuro, kili bag, Bikini, Marshall Islands, Kwajalein, Roi, Roi-Namur, Micronesia, travel
2 Responses to “Arno Love School”
 Comment by Richard Jones September 13th, 2007 at 9:06 am |
Hmmm, we have those too… the Bunny Ranch for example. |
 Comment by E. Pierce September 23rd, 2007 at 10:20 am |
> Hmmm, we have those too… the Bunny Ranch for example. No, actually, we don’t. The don’t teach other women their art at places like the Bunny Ranch, which is what’s so cool about the Arno Love School, Glenn’s daydreaming of being a volunteer notwithstanding! Could you imagine sending your daughter off to Bedroom School? What kind of pep talk would you give her if she wasn’t doing well? I wonder what the report cards look like… |