At times, Pam, you had to get your own water and prepare your food in totally new circumstances. How did you manage?

I have my father to thank. He taught me many useful things, such as how to make an open fire and cook on it and how to make do with little in a material way. On one visit to Kiribati, we stayed in a small house with a thatched roof, a coral floor, and bamboo walls. To cook a simple meal, I dug a hole in the floor to make a fireplace and dropped in coconut husks for fuel. For water, I lined up at a well with the local women. In order to haul the water up, they used a stick about six feet long with a thin rope attached to the end, somewhat like a fishing rod. But instead of tying a hook to the other end of the rope, they attached a can. Taking turns, each woman cast her line and then flicked her wrist at just the right moment. The can flipped on its side and filled up. I thought it was simple​—until it was my turn. I cast my line several times, but the can would hit the water and just float! After everyone stopped laughing, one of the women offered to help me. They were always most helpful and kind.

Pam: One of my most cherished memories takes me back to Kiribati, where there was a congregation of just a few brothers and sisters. The only elder, Itinikai Matera, did his best to look after us. He showed up one day with a basket that contained a single egg. “For you,” he said. A chicken’s egg was a rare treat for us back then. That small but generous act touched our hearts.