Life has often been compared to a journey, and like a journey, we never know what we will find around the next bend in the road. My assignment with Peace Corps in Samoa was scheduled to conclude in the summer of 2009, but I will be leaving a few months early. The primary reason that I’m leaving is to be with my mother in Colorado as she undergoes surgery for a condition in her lower back that is causing her to experience severe pain. For months she has tried cortisone injections, chiropractors, various pain medications, etc. with no relief. Not only will she need someone to be there to help her when she returns home from the hospital, but obviously I want to be there with her during the surgery as well. It’s curious what turns our lives take sometimes. To be honest with you my dear friends and family, lately my thoughts have been turning more and more toward going home. And then my mother’s surgery comes, and it’s time to go home.
Perhaps this will come as a surprise to some of you because I have tried to keep an optimistic outlook and upbeat attitude during my time here. But damn it’s hard sometimes! Peace Corps life is supposed to be a challenge and it is. But not in the ways that I thought it would be. Of course there are the language and culture challenges, which one expects. However, I would say that the biggest challenge has been the loneliness.
Even though I am surrounded by people who are kind and supportive here in my village, and even though there are other Peace Corps volunteers with whom I interact on a regular basis, it gets lonely. I miss having close friends and family nearby to laugh with, talk about the events of the day, and to share life with. When I was in Hawaii, even though I was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I had friends and family there. I had occasional visitors from the mainland, and I came back to Colorado to visit. And most of all, I could pick up my cell phone and talk to anyone for however long I wanted. That’s one of the hardest parts about being physically separated from friends and family. I’m lucky that I’m in Samoa at a time when there are internet connections and even cell phones here in country. That makes keeping contact much easier. But it’s prohibitively expensive to talk like we do back home. So I have conversations with my kids and my mother maybe once a month, all the time being aware of the cost and the time, and I try to keep up with others by email. It’s just not the same.
I will have accomplished what I came here to do – travel to new places, have an adventure, and hopefully make a positive contribution. I know that the kids whom I’ve taught in our little computer center will always remember me. Maybe as that funny old lady, but nonetheless, they will remember. And I can’t tell you how exciting and rewarding it is to see a 12-year old kid who had never seen a computer six months ago, walk into the center, turn on the computer, open up the program he wants to use, work on a project, open his file on the computer, save it, and move on to the next thing. Yesterday I had 20 kids there over the space of nearly three hours taking turns on our three computers.
My village of Poutasi is beautiful in many ways. Together we have done some positive things that hopefully will continue to evolve after I leave, but no matter how long I stayed I could never "finish" what I started. There would always be something more to do, even if I stayed here five years.
Mom’s surgery is scheduled for December 3, so I plan to come home by Thanksgiving. I'll continue to post blogs about my remaining time here in Samoa and the challenges as I adjust to life back in the States, which is part of my Peace Corps experience as well.
It will be good to be home.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
A Tattoo!
I got a tattoo. There are not many Polynesian words that have entered the English language, but perhaps the most widely used is tattoo. Exactly where and when the word "tattoo" originated is open to debate, but it is certain that it was a corruption of the Polynesian word tatau, picked up by the early European sailors exploring the Southern Ocean.I suppose that this is a good time to tell you that my tattoo is a small frangipani flower on the back of my right shoulder. It is lovely, but not conspicuous, especially compared to traditional Samoan tattoos. Of course not every Peace Corps volunteer in Samoa gets a tattoo, but a significant number of every group do so. Our Peace Corps Medical Officer even has a particular tattoo shop that she recommends.
Most Peace Corps volunteers opt for something traditional in design, emulating the tattoos that Samoan men and
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women wear, though somewhat less extensive. And most volunteers get their tattoos using the traditional tattooing implements – pointed metal combs (made of bone in the old days) dipped in ink and tapped into the skin with a wooden mallet.I had the tattoo artist use his electric instruments because I wanted color which can’t be done with the traditional tools. It’s light red and yellow, just like a frangipani flower, with a black border design. I went in with an idea of what I wanted, and together with the tattooist, we came up with the finished pattern. It took only about a half hour. And yes, it hurt, but more at first. You kind of get used to it as it progresses, and I quickly figured out that it helped to take my mind away from the fact that I was getting punctured with needles to something else more pleasant.
Nearly all Samoan men and women have tattoos. It’s been part of their culture for centuries. Many have smaller tattoos, but the most traditional tattoos for men cover their bodies from their bellies to mid-thigh. The ink coverage is so extensive, and the design so intricate, that on first glance it looks like they are wearing very tight pants. The ships’ logs of many early explorers commented upon the presence of “britches” upon Samoan males. This type of tattoo is called a pe’a (pay´-uh) and needless to say it’s very painful. I’ve watched them do it. The master tattooist is assisted by up to six helpers all of whom wish to become masters themselves. One will be responsible for the mixing of the dyes, another is responsible for wiping away the blood, another for dipping the instruments into the dye and receiving instruments that have been used, another cleans and sharpens the teeth of the metal combs, and another will hold the skin tight. Young women sit by the person being tattooed, holding them down to stop them moving too much and massaging the head. It takes about 40 or 50 hours to do a traditional pe’a in several sessions. And yes, in case you’re wondering, it covers everything.
The tattoos applied to women are smaller and more delicate. The traditional ones cover an area wrapping around both thighs about ten inches in length. It’s called a malu.
It’s just one more thing that makes life in Samoa very interesting indeed.
Marine Project Update
I’ve written before about the beautiful ocean just a stone’s throw away from my house here in Poutasi. I spend a huge amount of time sitting by the sea in a small fale (fah´-lay) (a house with a peaked roof, often thatch, which is open on all four sides supported by posts). I read and write there. I talk to the kids who stop by. I watch the fishermen. I look at the always changing sea and clouds, and photograph sunset after sunset. I hardly know what I would do if I didn’t have that lovely place to sit and meditate and restore myself. Even in Samoa, some Peace Corps volunteers don’t have the ocean outside their back door.It’s difficult to describe it to you adequately, so that you can appreciate how lovely it is. The water is crystal clear, and
changes from shades of aquamarine to deep blue, depending on the time of day. I can see fish swimming by while sitting in my chair. The lagoon in front of the village is protected by an an island an a barrier reef. While the ocean waves crash on the reef creating an omnipresent roar of the surf, the water inside the reef is calm and shallow. There is deeper water near the island, but the rest of the lagoon is only about waist deep. Inland there are mangrove marshes where fresh springs feed into the ocean.
changes from shades of aquamarine to deep blue, depending on the time of day. I can see fish swimming by while sitting in my chair. The lagoon in front of the village is protected by an an island an a barrier reef. While the ocean waves crash on the reef creating an omnipresent roar of the surf, the water inside the reef is calm and shallow. There is deeper water near the island, but the rest of the lagoon is only about waist deep. Inland there are mangrove marshes where fresh springs feed into the ocean.Earlier I wrote about receiving funding from the United Nations Development Project, Small Grants Program. Like everything here in Samoa it has been moving along slowly. One of the first things that we did, with the assistance of experts from the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment, was a baseline survey of the ocean lagoon and mangrove marshes. I went with them tramping through the marshes and snorkeling, taking underwater photos. As the joking saying goes, “A tough job, but someone has to do it!”
The really great news about that survey is that the coral inside the reef is healthy and recovering from previous damage. Much of the damage was from cyclones (hurricanes), but also from fishing with dynamite and poison in years past; that has since been outlawed. It’s great to see new coral polyps growing on the old dead coral. The mangrove marshes are also healthy with young mangrove trees growing naturally. And since coral and mangroves provide safe havens for small fish, it was also gratifying to see many small fish species too.I won’t go into a lot of detail, but I’ve learned so much about the marine environment that I never knew. Mangroves are amazing trees that are not only part of the cycle of ocean life, but also protect the coastline from erosion and cyclone damage.
The original plan included coral gardening to restore the coral, cement fish houses (a space for the small fish to hide), and a mangrove nursery. Fortunately, we won’t need to do the coral gardening, fish houses, or the mangrove nursery; we just need to protect what we have.
After numerous meetings and delays, we have finally reached the point of marking the marine protected area (in Samoan fa’asao). An area is marked with cement anchors, ropes and floats, and also with upright sticks which are more visible. It is off-limits to fishermen, providing a protected area for the coral and the fish, clams, sea urchins, etc. – essentially a fish nursery. Some of the villagers were reluctant at first, thinking that it would reduce their ability to catch fish. But it was explained to them that the fish don’t know that the boundaries are there, and when they get big they will venture out from the reserved area and then they can catch them (and there will be more of them).
Now we are in the process of drafting a management plan for the project to be adopted by the village chiefs, and hopefully enforced. There will be fines paid to the village council if people fish in the protected area.
We also had a village cleanup this week which is technically part of the project. Poutasi is actually a pretty clean village compared to some others I’ve seen, but inevitably there is rubbish that accumulates. People burn their paper rubbish, but cans and plastics tend to accumulate in piles behind the houses. We provided bags (used 50 pound plastic flour bags) to everyone and told them to put the small items in the bags and put them on the road in front of their houses. Larger items such as old appliances and such could just be moved to the road. Then we had a truck come and pick up everything and take it to the landfill. The plan is for this to be an ongoing village activity once a month. Villagers also walked along the beach picking up rubbish that had accumulated there. We’ll be putting two large cages (about eight feet long and four feet high) on the two main roads in the village to hold recyclable plastic bottles to be picked up periodically.
The next major step is a five-day workshop in the village presented by a local non-profit, Small Business Enterprise Corporation. The main purpose of the workshop is to teach villagers how to set up and operate a small business in anticipation of some ecotourism projects in the village. This village has so much to offer. I visualize tourists in a hand-
made outrigger canoe, paddled by a local guide who is telling them about this intricate beautiful ecosystem, silently slipping through the myriad channels of water with mangroves and giant ferns on all sides, hearing only the birds chirping and warbling. Then a trip to the uninhabited island with pristine beach and lush tropical foliage, where they can drink the water from a freshly picked coconut, eat a picnic lunch, swim and snorkel. Returning to the village they can be offered locally hand-made crafts to purchase. To the east and west of the village are popular tourist beaches and resorts. Nearly every tourist who rents a car drives down the road which intersects with the road into the village.There are other aspects of the project yet to be completed – planting more native trees along the waterfront at the ocean and the natural springs to reduce erosion, and repairing a small water reservoir at one of the natural springs that no longer holds water.
Of course the plan is for all of this to continue long after I leave the village. I’m hopeful that it will not only create a source of viable income, but also help preserve and protect this wonderful place for future generations.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Time and Space
One of the many challenges of being in Peace Corps is that you don’t have your own space. You don’t realize it until you don’t have it, but a lot of what we do on a daily basis involves that space. When you own or rent a house or an apartment, which you are making your home for however long, you have that space to inhabit. You paint, decorate and redecorate, rearrange the furniture, plant flowers, mow the grass, buy stuff, have friends over for dinner or to watch the football game, have a pet, work on your hobbies, watch TV at night. When you don’t do any of those things, it leaves a lot of time to fill.
It differs for each volunteer – a few have their own apartments or houses – but most of us are in someone else’s home, and for every volunteer it’s always temporary. You know you’ll be going back with the two suitcases you came with and little else. In my case, I have a room in the house of a wonderful and kind family, but it’s not my space, and there’s only 290 square feet of it. That means that I have a lot of time and very little space.
It differs for each volunteer – a few have their own apartments or houses – but most of us are in someone else’s home, and for every volunteer it’s always temporary. You know you’ll be going back with the two suitcases you came with and little else. In my case, I have a room in the house of a wonderful and kind family, but it’s not my space, and there’s only 290 square feet of it. That means that I have a lot of time and very little space.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
G'Day Mate!
Four days after I got back from American Samoa I went to Australia Colorado , in Brisbane
4:00 am local time, which is when I awoke since it’s a three-hour time difference from Samoa . I know that showers and TV aren’t normally the highlights of one’s vacation, but when you don’t have either, they are appreciated!
Mount Beerburrum Australia Mount Beerburrum
Sunshine Beach
Lady Elliot Island Great Barrier Reef with a landing strip. We spent the day there and went out on a small boat. I was finally able to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef – one of the things on my “Bucket List.” (In case you haven’t heard that term – the things to do before I “kick the bucket.”) It was awesome!
I go to New Zealand
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Other Samoa
Part I – American Samoa: A Little History
One of the many benefits of serving in the Peace Corps is being able to visit other countries nearby. In July I went to Pago Pago [pronounced Pango Pango, with an “a” like in mama] in American Samoa for three days.
Many people thought I was going to the Peace Corps in American Samoa, since, if they had heard of the islands at all, it was probably American Samoa that they knew about. (American Samoa is an American territory and Peace Corps doesn’t send volunteers to American territories.) To explain the difference between the two Samoas and to set the stage for my visit, I’ll give you a brief history lesson.
During the days of colonization by western powers all over the world, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States all had interests in Samoa which was then one nation of 11 islands. In the 1850’s and 60’s, German merchants established thriving businesses exporting coconut oil and cotton. They developed many large coconut plantations, where coconut trees were planted in perfectly straight lines with proper separation between them to insure maximum yield. Cotton was planted between the rows of coconut trees. One of the families in my village has the surname of Wolfe. Their great-grandfather Wolfe, who married a local Samoan woman, built a western-style house in the village which has many typical European design touches. (They, however, live mostly in the traditional Samoan fale (a house that is open on all four sides with a thatched roof) that they’ve built next to it.)
In the 1830’s missionaries from the London Missionary Society came to Samoa. By the 1870’s, both Australia and New Zealand had become important British colonial outposts in the Pacific. Local British businessmen and government leaders in New Zealand were concerned about the expanding German influence in Samoa.
Meanwhile, although Americans had established some small businesses in Samoa, it was the United States Navy which took a larger interest. The major problems facing the steamers of the day were limited fuel capacity and lack of coaling stations along their routes. In 1871, Captain Wakeman reported that “Pago Pago was the best harbor in the South Pacific” and that the harbor was about to fall into German hands due to a lack of US interest in the Samoan Islands.
During this time, there was also a civil war on one of the main islands. The Germans seized the opportunity they saw and began trading guns for land.
In 1878, threatened by German authority and facing rebellion by rival factions, the Samoan leaders decided that continuance of their government could only be found under the protection of either the US or Great Britain. Samoan delegates were sent to Fiji and Washington, DC. The delegates were warmly received in Fiji, but the Great Britain representatives there could give the Samoans nothing but personal support for their government. The delegate to Washington fared much better. The result of his visit was a treaty between the US and Samoa providing peace and friendship between the two countries for ten years and it included these important provisions: 1) it was renewable, and 2) it confirmed the right of the US to establish a naval station at Pago Pago.
Fast forward to 1899. German interests in Samoa were too big – and too important – to be allowed to fall under British or American influence. After years of conflict and civil war, which were complicated by support of various local factions by the three foreign powers, in 1899 a decision was agreed upon between all three nations. The US accepted the seven small islands of “Eastern” Samoa; the remaining four islands were to come under German control; and Great Britain relinquished all official claims and accepted in return Germany’s rights in Tonga, the Solomon Islands, and West Africa. The Samoans of these eastern islands, to be known as American Samoa, who had asked over 20 years before to be a protectorate of the US, responded with a Deed of Cession.
On August 6, 1914, German Samoa’s governor learned via wireless that war had begun in Europe. He and his administration decided not to resist an invasion by British forces, as he knew Samoan loyalty to the German interests was doubtful. That same day a telegram was sent to New Zealand’s governor to seize Samoa. British and French battle cruisers entered Apia harbor on August 29th. Not a single shot was fired by either side. In a matter of hours German Samoa ceased to exist.
Until 1962, when it became an independent nation, Western Samoa was a protectorate of New Zealand. In 1997, the name of the country was officially changed from Western Samoa to Samoa. But as many of you have found when you tried to send mail to me, you often still need to use the designation “Western Samoa.”
Up until WWII, life in American Samoa continued with little change from previous times. Some of your fathers or grandfathers may have been to Pago Pago if they served in the Pacific during WWII. Fortunately there was only one Japanese submarine attack on American Samoa which did little damage and no lives were lost. (The Japanese battle plans did include a full-scale invasion of the Samoan Islands on their way to Australia and New Zealand, but they were stopped in other South Pacific battles before they reached that far south.) However, the US Naval Station became a major military establishment and the Samoan Islands formed a strategic base for Allied operations in the Pacific. The Marine Corps and Naval personnel stationed there outnumbered the Samoan population.
The sheer numbers of men and materiel dramatically upset the ancient rhythms of American Samoa. Thousands of men were filing through on their way to Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and other battles. The US Naval Hospital had 65 buildings with wards for 140 beds. When wounded sailors from the battle at Guadalcanal began arriving, the facilities were overwhelmed. Seabees began constructing 45 additional Quonset huts. Working ten hours a day, seven days a week, they barely kept up with the arrival of casualties.
From the beginning of the military buildup in American Samoa in 1941, the local population welcomed the presence of the Navy and Marine Corps with open arms. As USMC units were stationed in remote villages, those villages treated the Marines as special guests. Individual families would house and feed small groups of Marines, wash their clothes, and tend to their housekeeping. Deep and sincere friendships developed between the Marines and the villagers. Samoans taught young men from Iowa or Vermont how to fish with nets or spears, how to climb coconut trees and husk the nuts. Many gave military gear and clothing to their Samoan families and friends – canteens, k-rations, hats, as well as those special treats loved by everyone: candy and chocolate.
When the time came for Marine units to ship out, there was heartfelt sadness by both Samoans and Marines. Of course many sailors had become romantically involved with beautiful young island women. The end result, after nearly five years of military presence, were the births of a number of children whose Navy and Marine Corps fathers were fighting in faraway battles, many of them never to return.
There is now only a military and civilian ship depot; the naval station was closed in 1951. However, there is a new US army reserve center in American Samoa.
WWII had a tremendous – and nearly incalculable – social and economic impact on American Samoa. Like most of the other South Pacific Island groups which served as military bases for the US, American Samoa inherited material assets and wants far beyond the territory’s ability to support and maintain. The Marines brought roads, electric power, and telephones. The military provided wage-paying jobs, highly preferable to young Samoans who otherwise would be working taro or banana plantations. When the majority of jobs left with the military, young Samoans were reluctant to return to the seemingly drab work of fishing or farming.
The military also introduced the younger Samoan generation to the tastes of America: ice cream, movies, ready-made clothing, accessible transportation, even shoes. The military had departed, but the people of American Samoa had experienced new American ways and they were eager to maintain them. Life in American Samoa would never be the same.
One particular lasting impact of the military presence in American Samoa was the enlistment of young Samoan men and women in the military. This tradition continues today with many young men and women serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, nine of whom have lost their lives there.
Things really began to change in American Samoa in the 1960’s. An American magazine published an article entitled, “America’s Shame in the South Seas,” which examined the simple subsistence lifestyle enjoyed by the American Samoans and determined it to be poverty by US standards. In response, Congress appropriated large amounts and, almost overnight, American Samoa became a Great Society construction project. Development was fast-tracked – new roads were built and western style homes replaced traditional Samoan houses, along with water projects, harbor facilities, an international airport, a new hospital, and tuna canneries.
In 1970 American Samoans elected their first “delegate-at-large” to Washington, DC, but it was not until 1981 that the territory was represented with a nonvoting member in the US House of Representatives. Ironically, American Samoans can vote for the party nominees for the presidential race, but cannot vote in the election itself. They are not US citizens, but US nationals and are free to move to Hawaii, Alaska or the US mainland, which many have done and continue to do.
Part II – My Visit
American Samoa is very American and very Samoan. I was reminded of some of the rural areas of Hawaii. Yet, and this is true of both Samoa and American Samoa, more than any other Polynesian people, Samoans have maintained their traditional way of life and still follow customs established long before the arrival of Europeans or Americans.
“One family, one culture, one country – two different forms of government.” This statement was made by one of the speakers at an event that I attended during my visit. Despite the American influence and official status as a US territory, it is still Samoa. Everyone speaks English, but Samoan is the everyday language. People were surprised and pleased when I was able to converse in Samoan.
The timing for my visit to American Samoa was to see the Festival of Pacific Arts (more about that later). When I asked my Samoan family in Poutasi what would be a good place to stay when I went to the festival, they said, “Oh, you can stay with cousin Rosana!” So I stayed with a family there who were extraordinarily kind to me. They picked me up and dropped me off at the airport, took me to the venue of the festival where I spent two fabulous days, provided a comfy bed and hot shower, and took me sightseeing the third day.
All of American Samoa is only 76 square miles. The main island of Tutuila, where Pago Pago is located, is breathtakingly beautiful. The population of American Samoa is only about 60,000 with nearly everyone living on Tutuila. There are two tuna canneries which employ 5,000 workers (and when the wind is right give the whole area a decidedly fishy smell I’ve been told, but fortunately not when I was there), and except for a relatively small number of employees in service industries, almost everyone else is employed directly or indirectly by the government. A small population serviced by an enormous bureaucracy is a common South Pacific phenomenon.
Back to the Festival of Pacific Arts, which was the impetus for my visit . . . . This was the 10th festival which is hosted every four years by one of the island nations in the Pacific. I was lucky that it was close enough this year for me to see it. (American Samoa is only 70 miles away - $145 round trip airfare.)
People from 22 island groups attended the festival from islands that most of you have never heard of like Nauru and Palau, to Australia and New Zealand, and Hawaii. There were numerous arts and crafts activities, demonstrations, and workshops going on for ten days. I couldn’t go for the whole time so I opted to go for the last two days, which included the closing ceremony, and I had one day for sightseeing.
There were canoe makers, tattoo artists, tapa (bark cloth) artists, and many similar activities which were all fascinating and enjoyable. Each country had set up a fale in the festival village in a large grassy area where they were selling handicrafts and doing demonstrations. I met a Samoan woman who told me that the land where the festival village was built was given to the United States by her family for the naval hospital during the war. It’s now the playing field for American Samoa Community College.
I love to watch dance, and I did a lot of it. Both days there I watched hours and hours of native dancers from Tahiti, Wallis & Futuna, Hawaii, New Caledonia, Guam, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, American Samoa, the Cook Islands, and the Solomon Islands. In their picturesque native costumes, the dancers told stories with swaying hips and expressive hands of long ago battles won, lovers reunited, or the feats of the ancient gods
There was a big public discussion before the festival, which was covered thoroughly by the media here in Samoa, about whether women dancers who traditionally dance topless should be allowed to do so. Since both Samoa and American Samoa are deeply conservative, religious countries, it was quite an issue. Some years
ago when the festival was held in Samoa, a woman dancer from Papua New Guinea was slapped by a Samoan man because of her “nakedness.” The discussions were very one-sided as is often the case on issues of gender. No one seemed to care that the handsome young men from Rapa Nui (Easter Island) danced with the male version of a g-string. In the end, everyone was allowed to dance their traditional dances in whatever manner they wanted. Women from the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea were indeed topless. All of the dancing was magnificent, moving, and very entertaining. At the closing ceremony, there were 50 Samoan fire knife dancers performing all together.
The day after the festival, we drove the one main road along the south side of the island (Route 1). I’ve already
mentioned the magnificent harbor at Pago Pago – a bowl of water dotted with ships and yachts, surrounded by towering peaks and sheer cliffs. Along the coast there are bays with aquamarine water, bleached sand, or rock-stubbled foreshores, nodding palms, and snoozing villages. Forested mountains rise up behind it all to converge on a jagged central ridge.
We drove across the middle of the island to the small village of Fagasa. My hosts told me how they villagers fish for mackerel (akule). When they see the fish in the clear water of the shallow bay, everyone – men, women and children – goes into the water with palm fronds. They beat the water and herd the fish into waiting nets. It’s forbidden to sell the fish; they are shared in the village or given away.
It was a great trip!
One of the many benefits of serving in the Peace Corps is being able to visit other countries nearby. In July I went to Pago Pago [pronounced Pango Pango, with an “a” like in mama] in American Samoa for three days.
Many people thought I was going to the Peace Corps in American Samoa, since, if they had heard of the islands at all, it was probably American Samoa that they knew about. (American Samoa is an American territory and Peace Corps doesn’t send volunteers to American territories.) To explain the difference between the two Samoas and to set the stage for my visit, I’ll give you a brief history lesson.
During the days of colonization by western powers all over the world, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States all had interests in Samoa which was then one nation of 11 islands. In the 1850’s and 60’s, German merchants established thriving businesses exporting coconut oil and cotton. They developed many large coconut plantations, where coconut trees were planted in perfectly straight lines with proper separation between them to insure maximum yield. Cotton was planted between the rows of coconut trees. One of the families in my village has the surname of Wolfe. Their great-grandfather Wolfe, who married a local Samoan woman, built a western-style house in the village which has many typical European design touches. (They, however, live mostly in the traditional Samoan fale (a house that is open on all four sides with a thatched roof) that they’ve built next to it.)
In the 1830’s missionaries from the London Missionary Society came to Samoa. By the 1870’s, both Australia and New Zealand had become important British colonial outposts in the Pacific. Local British businessmen and government leaders in New Zealand were concerned about the expanding German influence in Samoa.
Meanwhile, although Americans had established some small businesses in Samoa, it was the United States Navy which took a larger interest. The major problems facing the steamers of the day were limited fuel capacity and lack of coaling stations along their routes. In 1871, Captain Wakeman reported that “Pago Pago was the best harbor in the South Pacific” and that the harbor was about to fall into German hands due to a lack of US interest in the Samoan Islands.
During this time, there was also a civil war on one of the main islands. The Germans seized the opportunity they saw and began trading guns for land.
In 1878, threatened by German authority and facing rebellion by rival factions, the Samoan leaders decided that continuance of their government could only be found under the protection of either the US or Great Britain. Samoan delegates were sent to Fiji and Washington, DC. The delegates were warmly received in Fiji, but the Great Britain representatives there could give the Samoans nothing but personal support for their government. The delegate to Washington fared much better. The result of his visit was a treaty between the US and Samoa providing peace and friendship between the two countries for ten years and it included these important provisions: 1) it was renewable, and 2) it confirmed the right of the US to establish a naval station at Pago Pago.
Fast forward to 1899. German interests in Samoa were too big – and too important – to be allowed to fall under British or American influence. After years of conflict and civil war, which were complicated by support of various local factions by the three foreign powers, in 1899 a decision was agreed upon between all three nations. The US accepted the seven small islands of “Eastern” Samoa; the remaining four islands were to come under German control; and Great Britain relinquished all official claims and accepted in return Germany’s rights in Tonga, the Solomon Islands, and West Africa. The Samoans of these eastern islands, to be known as American Samoa, who had asked over 20 years before to be a protectorate of the US, responded with a Deed of Cession.
On August 6, 1914, German Samoa’s governor learned via wireless that war had begun in Europe. He and his administration decided not to resist an invasion by British forces, as he knew Samoan loyalty to the German interests was doubtful. That same day a telegram was sent to New Zealand’s governor to seize Samoa. British and French battle cruisers entered Apia harbor on August 29th. Not a single shot was fired by either side. In a matter of hours German Samoa ceased to exist.
Until 1962, when it became an independent nation, Western Samoa was a protectorate of New Zealand. In 1997, the name of the country was officially changed from Western Samoa to Samoa. But as many of you have found when you tried to send mail to me, you often still need to use the designation “Western Samoa.”
Up until WWII, life in American Samoa continued with little change from previous times. Some of your fathers or grandfathers may have been to Pago Pago if they served in the Pacific during WWII. Fortunately there was only one Japanese submarine attack on American Samoa which did little damage and no lives were lost. (The Japanese battle plans did include a full-scale invasion of the Samoan Islands on their way to Australia and New Zealand, but they were stopped in other South Pacific battles before they reached that far south.) However, the US Naval Station became a major military establishment and the Samoan Islands formed a strategic base for Allied operations in the Pacific. The Marine Corps and Naval personnel stationed there outnumbered the Samoan population.
The sheer numbers of men and materiel dramatically upset the ancient rhythms of American Samoa. Thousands of men were filing through on their way to Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and other battles. The US Naval Hospital had 65 buildings with wards for 140 beds. When wounded sailors from the battle at Guadalcanal began arriving, the facilities were overwhelmed. Seabees began constructing 45 additional Quonset huts. Working ten hours a day, seven days a week, they barely kept up with the arrival of casualties.
From the beginning of the military buildup in American Samoa in 1941, the local population welcomed the presence of the Navy and Marine Corps with open arms. As USMC units were stationed in remote villages, those villages treated the Marines as special guests. Individual families would house and feed small groups of Marines, wash their clothes, and tend to their housekeeping. Deep and sincere friendships developed between the Marines and the villagers. Samoans taught young men from Iowa or Vermont how to fish with nets or spears, how to climb coconut trees and husk the nuts. Many gave military gear and clothing to their Samoan families and friends – canteens, k-rations, hats, as well as those special treats loved by everyone: candy and chocolate.
When the time came for Marine units to ship out, there was heartfelt sadness by both Samoans and Marines. Of course many sailors had become romantically involved with beautiful young island women. The end result, after nearly five years of military presence, were the births of a number of children whose Navy and Marine Corps fathers were fighting in faraway battles, many of them never to return.
There is now only a military and civilian ship depot; the naval station was closed in 1951. However, there is a new US army reserve center in American Samoa.
WWII had a tremendous – and nearly incalculable – social and economic impact on American Samoa. Like most of the other South Pacific Island groups which served as military bases for the US, American Samoa inherited material assets and wants far beyond the territory’s ability to support and maintain. The Marines brought roads, electric power, and telephones. The military provided wage-paying jobs, highly preferable to young Samoans who otherwise would be working taro or banana plantations. When the majority of jobs left with the military, young Samoans were reluctant to return to the seemingly drab work of fishing or farming.
The military also introduced the younger Samoan generation to the tastes of America: ice cream, movies, ready-made clothing, accessible transportation, even shoes. The military had departed, but the people of American Samoa had experienced new American ways and they were eager to maintain them. Life in American Samoa would never be the same.
One particular lasting impact of the military presence in American Samoa was the enlistment of young Samoan men and women in the military. This tradition continues today with many young men and women serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, nine of whom have lost their lives there.
Things really began to change in American Samoa in the 1960’s. An American magazine published an article entitled, “America’s Shame in the South Seas,” which examined the simple subsistence lifestyle enjoyed by the American Samoans and determined it to be poverty by US standards. In response, Congress appropriated large amounts and, almost overnight, American Samoa became a Great Society construction project. Development was fast-tracked – new roads were built and western style homes replaced traditional Samoan houses, along with water projects, harbor facilities, an international airport, a new hospital, and tuna canneries.
In 1970 American Samoans elected their first “delegate-at-large” to Washington, DC, but it was not until 1981 that the territory was represented with a nonvoting member in the US House of Representatives. Ironically, American Samoans can vote for the party nominees for the presidential race, but cannot vote in the election itself. They are not US citizens, but US nationals and are free to move to Hawaii, Alaska or the US mainland, which many have done and continue to do.
Part II – My Visit
American Samoa is very American and very Samoan. I was reminded of some of the rural areas of Hawaii. Yet, and this is true of both Samoa and American Samoa, more than any other Polynesian people, Samoans have maintained their traditional way of life and still follow customs established long before the arrival of Europeans or Americans.
“One family, one culture, one country – two different forms of government.” This statement was made by one of the speakers at an event that I attended during my visit. Despite the American influence and official status as a US territory, it is still Samoa. Everyone speaks English, but Samoan is the everyday language. People were surprised and pleased when I was able to converse in Samoan.
The timing for my visit to American Samoa was to see the Festival of Pacific Arts (more about that later). When I asked my Samoan family in Poutasi what would be a good place to stay when I went to the festival, they said, “Oh, you can stay with cousin Rosana!” So I stayed with a family there who were extraordinarily kind to me. They picked me up and dropped me off at the airport, took me to the venue of the festival where I spent two fabulous days, provided a comfy bed and hot shower, and took me sightseeing the third day.
All of American Samoa is only 76 square miles. The main island of Tutuila, where Pago Pago is located, is breathtakingly beautiful. The population of American Samoa is only about 60,000 with nearly everyone living on Tutuila. There are two tuna canneries which employ 5,000 workers (and when the wind is right give the whole area a decidedly fishy smell I’ve been told, but fortunately not when I was there), and except for a relatively small number of employees in service industries, almost everyone else is employed directly or indirectly by the government. A small population serviced by an enormous bureaucracy is a common South Pacific phenomenon.
Back to the Festival of Pacific Arts, which was the impetus for my visit . . . . This was the 10th festival which is hosted every four years by one of the island nations in the Pacific. I was lucky that it was close enough this year for me to see it. (American Samoa is only 70 miles away - $145 round trip airfare.)
People from 22 island groups attended the festival from islands that most of you have never heard of like Nauru and Palau, to Australia and New Zealand, and Hawaii. There were numerous arts and crafts activities, demonstrations, and workshops going on for ten days. I couldn’t go for the whole time so I opted to go for the last two days, which included the closing ceremony, and I had one day for sightseeing.
There were canoe makers, tattoo artists, tapa (bark cloth) artists, and many similar activities which were all fascinating and enjoyable. Each country had set up a fale in the festival village in a large grassy area where they were selling handicrafts and doing demonstrations. I met a Samoan woman who told me that the land where the festival village was built was given to the United States by her family for the naval hospital during the war. It’s now the playing field for American Samoa Community College.
I love to watch dance, and I did a lot of it. Both days there I watched hours and hours of native dancers from Tahiti, Wallis & Futuna, Hawaii, New Caledonia, Guam, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, American Samoa, the Cook Islands, and the Solomon Islands. In their picturesque native costumes, the dancers told stories with swaying hips and expressive hands of long ago battles won, lovers reunited, or the feats of the ancient gods
There was a big public discussion before the festival, which was covered thoroughly by the media here in Samoa, about whether women dancers who traditionally dance topless should be allowed to do so. Since both Samoa and American Samoa are deeply conservative, religious countries, it was quite an issue. Some years
ago when the festival was held in Samoa, a woman dancer from Papua New Guinea was slapped by a Samoan man because of her “nakedness.” The discussions were very one-sided as is often the case on issues of gender. No one seemed to care that the handsome young men from Rapa Nui (Easter Island) danced with the male version of a g-string. In the end, everyone was allowed to dance their traditional dances in whatever manner they wanted. Women from the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea were indeed topless. All of the dancing was magnificent, moving, and very entertaining. At the closing ceremony, there were 50 Samoan fire knife dancers performing all together.The day after the festival, we drove the one main road along the south side of the island (Route 1). I’ve already
mentioned the magnificent harbor at Pago Pago – a bowl of water dotted with ships and yachts, surrounded by towering peaks and sheer cliffs. Along the coast there are bays with aquamarine water, bleached sand, or rock-stubbled foreshores, nodding palms, and snoozing villages. Forested mountains rise up behind it all to converge on a jagged central ridge.We drove across the middle of the island to the small village of Fagasa. My hosts told me how they villagers fish for mackerel (akule). When they see the fish in the clear water of the shallow bay, everyone – men, women and children – goes into the water with palm fronds. They beat the water and herd the fish into waiting nets. It’s forbidden to sell the fish; they are shared in the village or given away.
It was a great trip!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Life's Unexpected Events
Life is perilous sometimes in the middle of the South Pacific. Within the last month there have been three accidents that took the lives of Samoans who lived in neighboring villages.
The Yellow Bus: The first was a bus accident on June 21st when three people were killed. The bus was going too fast down a hill on a narrow road. It’s amazing that most on the bus had only relatively minor injuries. One of those killed was a 13-year old boy who was one of the students of a Peace Corps teacher in Tafatafa three villages down the road from me.
There was an optional meeting at the Peace Corps office that day and I decided not to go. If I had gone, I would have been on that bus on my way home since I wouldn’t have been able to catch my regular bus after the meeting. I hesitate to tell you about this, as I’m afraid you might worry about me, but as you can see Someone was looking out for me.
When I first came to Poutasi, my Samoan family told me not to ride the yellow bus – that it wasn’t safe. They said that the owner of the yellow buses (there are three) had given the official at the government ministry a red pickup truck and then he just signed off on the inspection paperwork. The PC from Tafatafa said she had seen one of the drivers drinking beer on the bus. So I have only ridden on that bus three or four times when there was no other choice because it’s the last bus of the day.
As I’ve told you in the past, I usually take the red bus driven by my next door neighbor even though it goes the long way around the end of the island to get to Apia, making a two-hour ride each way. There is one other bus, a green one, which makes several trips during the day that I ride sometimes too, since my neighbor just makes one round trip leaving at 6:00 am and returning at 6:30 pm. The yellow bus and the green bus took the route directly over the mountain on the Tiavi Cross Island Road which only takes about an hour. This week on Monday because of the accident the government minister banned buses on the Cross Island Road. (Yes, he can do that without input or public hearing of any sort.) So now I have no option other than four hours on a bus when I go to town (unless I can catch a ride with someone from the village). It’s typical of Samoa that they would make a quick “fix” like this, and of course the two other yellow buses are still on the road.
The Navigator Islands: On June 28th two fishermen from the next village over were lost at sea outside the reef of the small bay of our village. There were three of them in a small motorized fishing boat early in the morning. It was still dark and they miscalculated and drove the boat onto the reef where it capsized and sank. Initially each had something to hold onto in the water - ice chests, etc. They were together in the water for awhile and then got separated. One young man swam to shore to Poutasi and the others didn’t make it.
The islands of Samoa were christened The Navigator Islands by French explorer Bougainville in 1768. While the name didn’t stick, since they already had a name (ah, the arrogance of European “civilized” explorers), it was apt since the Samoans were indisputably some of the world’s best sailors of the open ocean centuries before those civilized explorers even ventured out of sight of the shoreline.
Someday I’ll write more about the outrigger canoes in my village and the revival throughout the Pacific of the early methods of navigating by the stars, the clouds, and the sea. But for the moment, I’ll just mention that an early Polynesian navigator could stand with feet firmly planted on the deck of his double-hulled sailing canoe and sense the direction and movement of swells through his feet right up through his body. The complex patterns produced by swells of the ocean that are refracted and reflected among the islands were understood by these men. This knowledge was especially important when canoes neared the vicinity of an island on a dark, moonless night, allowing the navigator to stay clear of the surrounding reefs until daylight.
In our modern era, accidents happen instead.
Rugby, or as they say in Samoan, Lakapi: The end of the following week a young man from another village nearby broke his neck and died playing rugby. He was 17. As you may know, rugby is a hugely popular sport here and every village has a local team.
Samoans are serious about rugby. Manu Samoa, the national professional team, is ranked in the top 20 in the world, which is amazing considering that they come from a speck of land in the middle of the Pacific with only 180,000 people.
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In Samoa it seems that everyone knows or is related to someone who is related to your family so this has been a difficult time for many local people.
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On a totally different subject . . .
At the village council meeting on Monday last week a man was banished from the village. That means that he had to pack up his belongings and leave the village forever and go live with family in another village. He’s a man whom I know well (he was on the Learning Centre Committee and a deacon of the church). He’s been having an affair with a married woman. Her family will have to pay a fine to the council of chiefs - $1,000WST and a cow (which is worth about $1,000WST). The cow will be butchered and shared amongst the chiefs. This is a significant fine for a family who makes their living as subsistence farmers and fishermen. (In US dollars this is about $835 total, including the cow.)
I knew about banishment, but I thought it usually only applied to serious crimes or was employed when other forms of customary penalty, such as fines and ostracism from village affairs had failed. Maybe there’s some history there that I don’t know about.
Not only are there no secrets in a Samoan village, can you imagine your affairs (pun intended) being discussed publicly by the entire village?
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So life here is kind of like living in a soap opera sometimes – there are lots of happy, peaceful times in the lives of the people, but the unexpected is always just around the corner.
The Yellow Bus: The first was a bus accident on June 21st when three people were killed. The bus was going too fast down a hill on a narrow road. It’s amazing that most on the bus had only relatively minor injuries. One of those killed was a 13-year old boy who was one of the students of a Peace Corps teacher in Tafatafa three villages down the road from me.
There was an optional meeting at the Peace Corps office that day and I decided not to go. If I had gone, I would have been on that bus on my way home since I wouldn’t have been able to catch my regular bus after the meeting. I hesitate to tell you about this, as I’m afraid you might worry about me, but as you can see Someone was looking out for me.
When I first came to Poutasi, my Samoan family told me not to ride the yellow bus – that it wasn’t safe. They said that the owner of the yellow buses (there are three) had given the official at the government ministry a red pickup truck and then he just signed off on the inspection paperwork. The PC from Tafatafa said she had seen one of the drivers drinking beer on the bus. So I have only ridden on that bus three or four times when there was no other choice because it’s the last bus of the day.
As I’ve told you in the past, I usually take the red bus driven by my next door neighbor even though it goes the long way around the end of the island to get to Apia, making a two-hour ride each way. There is one other bus, a green one, which makes several trips during the day that I ride sometimes too, since my neighbor just makes one round trip leaving at 6:00 am and returning at 6:30 pm. The yellow bus and the green bus took the route directly over the mountain on the Tiavi Cross Island Road which only takes about an hour. This week on Monday because of the accident the government minister banned buses on the Cross Island Road. (Yes, he can do that without input or public hearing of any sort.) So now I have no option other than four hours on a bus when I go to town (unless I can catch a ride with someone from the village). It’s typical of Samoa that they would make a quick “fix” like this, and of course the two other yellow buses are still on the road.
The Navigator Islands: On June 28th two fishermen from the next village over were lost at sea outside the reef of the small bay of our village. There were three of them in a small motorized fishing boat early in the morning. It was still dark and they miscalculated and drove the boat onto the reef where it capsized and sank. Initially each had something to hold onto in the water - ice chests, etc. They were together in the water for awhile and then got separated. One young man swam to shore to Poutasi and the others didn’t make it.
The islands of Samoa were christened The Navigator Islands by French explorer Bougainville in 1768. While the name didn’t stick, since they already had a name (ah, the arrogance of European “civilized” explorers), it was apt since the Samoans were indisputably some of the world’s best sailors of the open ocean centuries before those civilized explorers even ventured out of sight of the shoreline.
Someday I’ll write more about the outrigger canoes in my village and the revival throughout the Pacific of the early methods of navigating by the stars, the clouds, and the sea. But for the moment, I’ll just mention that an early Polynesian navigator could stand with feet firmly planted on the deck of his double-hulled sailing canoe and sense the direction and movement of swells through his feet right up through his body. The complex patterns produced by swells of the ocean that are refracted and reflected among the islands were understood by these men. This knowledge was especially important when canoes neared the vicinity of an island on a dark, moonless night, allowing the navigator to stay clear of the surrounding reefs until daylight.
In our modern era, accidents happen instead.
Rugby, or as they say in Samoan, Lakapi: The end of the following week a young man from another village nearby broke his neck and died playing rugby. He was 17. As you may know, rugby is a hugely popular sport here and every village has a local team.
Samoans are serious about rugby. Manu Samoa, the national professional team, is ranked in the top 20 in the world, which is amazing considering that they come from a speck of land in the middle of the Pacific with only 180,000 people.
************************************************
In Samoa it seems that everyone knows or is related to someone who is related to your family so this has been a difficult time for many local people.
************************************************
On a totally different subject . . .
At the village council meeting on Monday last week a man was banished from the village. That means that he had to pack up his belongings and leave the village forever and go live with family in another village. He’s a man whom I know well (he was on the Learning Centre Committee and a deacon of the church). He’s been having an affair with a married woman. Her family will have to pay a fine to the council of chiefs - $1,000WST and a cow (which is worth about $1,000WST). The cow will be butchered and shared amongst the chiefs. This is a significant fine for a family who makes their living as subsistence farmers and fishermen. (In US dollars this is about $835 total, including the cow.)
I knew about banishment, but I thought it usually only applied to serious crimes or was employed when other forms of customary penalty, such as fines and ostracism from village affairs had failed. Maybe there’s some history there that I don’t know about.
Not only are there no secrets in a Samoan village, can you imagine your affairs (pun intended) being discussed publicly by the entire village?
************************************************
So life here is kind of like living in a soap opera sometimes – there are lots of happy, peaceful times in the lives of the people, but the unexpected is always just around the corner.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Poutasi Learning Center Update
Ten-year old Poiva always seems to have an impish grin on his coppery-brown face with his dark, mischievous eyes. Last week he was teaching me how to fish with a spool of fishing line, a hook, and some bait. Standing on the beach, you put the bait firmly on the hook, twirl a couple of feet of line over your head with the hook on the end (hence the “firmly”). Then you let it fly and gradually pull it in, winding the fish line on the spool with a stick in the middle. Of course I didn’t catch a thing, but I watched him pull in three pan-size fish. This week I was teaching him how to use a computer.
Poiva’s 12-year old brother, Milana, loves to make flags with the Paint program on the computer. After making flags of several of the Pacific island nations last week, he is now branching out to the rest of the world. Using an atlas in the homework center with four pages with flags of the world, he made Israel and Jamaica yesterday. Then we looked to see where these countries are on the map.
High school senior Pene is learning how to type with the Typing Tutor program. She is a shy, beautiful young girl with her long black hair in braids. Last night she finished a research paper (with some help on the typing from me) on running a small business. To write the paper she interviewed the owner of a small general store.
Siliafai is sixty, pleasantly plump, with a ready smile and a twinkle in her eye. She learned how to type on a typewriter when she was young, but had never used a computer until last Saturday. Now she can turn it on, go to Word, and type a letter to her family in New Zealand.
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I’ve been trying to think about how to begin to write about how things are going at the Poutasi Learning Center. I finally realized that the best way is to write about the people, especially the children, because that’s what it’s all about. I facilitated the process of making a storeroom into a computer center, stacked some books and puzzles on the shelves, and have begun to share my meager computer skills. None of those things are very significant, but putting it together with the people has made it into quite an exciting place.
The first day I had over 20 kids show up to use three computers and one laptop. Now we have a schedule – two times each week for boys and two times each week for girls, with separate times for typing and other computer lessons. They still have to take turns of course.
I started with the Paint program. It helps them to learn to use a mouse and how to open and close a program and save a file. I’ve also put educational games on the computers. They can do anything they want for free during the two times each week for boys and girls. There is a small fee for lessons, printing, or copying and that’s been so successful that we have over $100 (Samoan tala) in less than one month. We got our first electric bill of $6, so I’ll save the rest of the money for toner ($400 for one cartridge), paper, and a maintenance fund.
Truthfully, I was really anxious about whether it would work as we envisioned, and if I could teach computers. So I’m relieved and happy to report that I walk to my house after an afternoon at the center with a big smile on my face.
Poiva’s 12-year old brother, Milana, loves to make flags with the Paint program on the computer. After making flags of several of the Pacific island nations last week, he is now branching out to the rest of the world. Using an atlas in the homework center with four pages with flags of the world, he made Israel and Jamaica yesterday. Then we looked to see where these countries are on the map.
High school senior Pene is learning how to type with the Typing Tutor program. She is a shy, beautiful young girl with her long black hair in braids. Last night she finished a research paper (with some help on the typing from me) on running a small business. To write the paper she interviewed the owner of a small general store.
Siliafai is sixty, pleasantly plump, with a ready smile and a twinkle in her eye. She learned how to type on a typewriter when she was young, but had never used a computer until last Saturday. Now she can turn it on, go to Word, and type a letter to her family in New Zealand.
******************************************************
I’ve been trying to think about how to begin to write about how things are going at the Poutasi Learning Center. I finally realized that the best way is to write about the people, especially the children, because that’s what it’s all about. I facilitated the process of making a storeroom into a computer center, stacked some books and puzzles on the shelves, and have begun to share my meager computer skills. None of those things are very significant, but putting it together with the people has made it into quite an exciting place.
The first day I had over 20 kids show up to use three computers and one laptop. Now we have a schedule – two times each week for boys and two times each week for girls, with separate times for typing and other computer lessons. They still have to take turns of course.
I started with the Paint program. It helps them to learn to use a mouse and how to open and close a program and save a file. I’ve also put educational games on the computers. They can do anything they want for free during the two times each week for boys and girls. There is a small fee for lessons, printing, or copying and that’s been so successful that we have over $100 (Samoan tala) in less than one month. We got our first electric bill of $6, so I’ll save the rest of the money for toner ($400 for one cartridge), paper, and a maintenance fund.
Truthfully, I was really anxious about whether it would work as we envisioned, and if I could teach computers. So I’m relieved and happy to report that I walk to my house after an afternoon at the center with a big smile on my face.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Poutasi Learning Center
This has been an exciting week in the village of Poutasi. On Monday we had the Grand Opening of the Poutasi Learning Center. Sometimes I get frustrated with the traditional Samoan ceremonies that go on and on and on, but this time I enjoyed every minute of it.
This is a project that the village told me that they wanted when I first got here in August of last year. It took nine months to do what I probably could have done in about one month in the States, but that’s okay. That’s just how it goes in Samoa.
Some of you will remember when I sent an email last fall telling you that we had received a donation of some used computers from the Mormon Church in Samoa. On behalf of the village I requested $2,500US from the New Zealand High Commission to help remodel a small storage room in the church hall into a computer center. We got the grant which was used for lumber, electrical work, a fan, and a printer/copier. People in the village donated labor and materials as well. Friends from the States donated a computer (Thank you Carol!) and a monitor (Thank you Dana!), a laptop (Thank you Kim!), and 20 books (Thank you everyone!). There are shelves for a small library, especially reference books.
We’re in a school break right now, but when school resumes on June 9th we’ll have an after school homework center. We’ll start with two nights a week when kids can come to the church hall and get help with their homework. We are blessed to have several teachers living in the village, and they will rotate as volunteers to help.
The computer center will be for everyone one in the village to use. Those adults or young people who know how to use computers can come and use it, and I’ll teach basic computer lessons to those who want to learn. Computer classes are taught in some of the schools, but no one in the village has a computer in their home. There will be small fees ($.50US/hour for students and $1.00US/hour for adults) for computer lessons and printing/copies ($.25US/page). This money will (hopefully) pay for the electricity, supplies, and a small maintenance fund. It’s not connected to a phone line for internet right now, although we could do that in the future.
At the Grand Opening of course everyone was dressed in their best and there were leis for the dignitaries. There were speeches and a ribbon cutting. Then we had an ava ceremony with the chiefs of the village, and food, which no Samoan celebration would be complete without. After the food, there was a presentation of gifts to the honored guests. Besides reps from the NZ High Commission, the Director of Peace Corps Samoa was there, and reps from the government ministry that works with Peace Corps. The village presented each with fine woven mats and roast suckling pigs in baskets woven from coconut fronds. After that there was music and Samoan dancing. This took about three hours, then three other Peace Corps volunteers joined me and we did face painting and crafts with the children of the village. There are about 60 primary school age children in the village, and I think they were all there! It was a lot of fun.
Then I walked home and took a nap – Samoan style.
Thanks again for all of your support – whether it’s a donation for the village, a care package, an email, or just your positive thoughts beamed in my direction. Poutasi is a lovely village with picture postcard views of the beautiful Pacific, whose kind and gentle people have made me feel welcome, but it’s not easy sometimes. Nobody said it would be easy, but it’s a good feeling to have accomplished this tangible thing that will hopefully continue long after I’m gone from Samoa.
This is a project that the village told me that they wanted when I first got here in August of last year. It took nine months to do what I probably could have done in about one month in the States, but that’s okay. That’s just how it goes in Samoa.
Some of you will remember when I sent an email last fall telling you that we had received a donation of some used computers from the Mormon Church in Samoa. On behalf of the village I requested $2,500US from the New Zealand High Commission to help remodel a small storage room in the church hall into a computer center. We got the grant which was used for lumber, electrical work, a fan, and a printer/copier. People in the village donated labor and materials as well. Friends from the States donated a computer (Thank you Carol!) and a monitor (Thank you Dana!), a laptop (Thank you Kim!), and 20 books (Thank you everyone!). There are shelves for a small library, especially reference books.
We’re in a school break right now, but when school resumes on June 9th we’ll have an after school homework center. We’ll start with two nights a week when kids can come to the church hall and get help with their homework. We are blessed to have several teachers living in the village, and they will rotate as volunteers to help.
The computer center will be for everyone one in the village to use. Those adults or young people who know how to use computers can come and use it, and I’ll teach basic computer lessons to those who want to learn. Computer classes are taught in some of the schools, but no one in the village has a computer in their home. There will be small fees ($.50US/hour for students and $1.00US/hour for adults) for computer lessons and printing/copies ($.25US/page). This money will (hopefully) pay for the electricity, supplies, and a small maintenance fund. It’s not connected to a phone line for internet right now, although we could do that in the future.
At the Grand Opening of course everyone was dressed in their best and there were leis for the dignitaries. There were speeches and a ribbon cutting. Then we had an ava ceremony with the chiefs of the village, and food, which no Samoan celebration would be complete without. After the food, there was a presentation of gifts to the honored guests. Besides reps from the NZ High Commission, the Director of Peace Corps Samoa was there, and reps from the government ministry that works with Peace Corps. The village presented each with fine woven mats and roast suckling pigs in baskets woven from coconut fronds. After that there was music and Samoan dancing. This took about three hours, then three other Peace Corps volunteers joined me and we did face painting and crafts with the children of the village. There are about 60 primary school age children in the village, and I think they were all there! It was a lot of fun.
Then I walked home and took a nap – Samoan style.
Thanks again for all of your support – whether it’s a donation for the village, a care package, an email, or just your positive thoughts beamed in my direction. Poutasi is a lovely village with picture postcard views of the beautiful Pacific, whose kind and gentle people have made me feel welcome, but it’s not easy sometimes. Nobody said it would be easy, but it’s a good feeling to have accomplished this tangible thing that will hopefully continue long after I’m gone from Samoa.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Bum Bye
Pacific time . . . . You may think that Samoa is in a time zone just like all those distributed around the world, but you would be wrong. Yes, technically, if you are measuring such temporal necessities, our clocks are set one hour earlier than Hawai’i, and we are just miles from the International Dateline. But the reality is that Samoa (and this applies to most of the Pacific Islands), is in its own time zone called, “Whenever.”
Here’s how things work here:
Last week I visited the primary school in the neighboring village where Poutasi kids go to school. I told the principal that I would like to help at the school and he asked me to come back on Monday at 11:30. I saw him in the village on Thursday last week and we talked about it again. So yesterday I walked the two miles to the school on a very hot day, and he wasn’t there.
We received about $2,000US from the New Zealand High Commission to buy a printer/copier and do some minor remodeling needed for our small village computer center/homework center. Last Friday the electrician was supposed to come give an estimate for the minor electrical work we need, and I still haven’t seen or heard from him.
Speaking of the computer center, my contact at the NZ Commission told me the funding committee would be meeting the first week in March. Well, they didn’t meet, but told me they would meet the following week. They didn’t of course, but were supposed to meet the next week. Suffice to say, that they finally met in April.
Two weeks ago we scheduled a committee meeting to talk about some projects here in the village. Two people of six on the committee showed up, and one of them came 45 minutes after the appointed starting time
I could go on and on.
Sometimes one visits other countries where the concept of time is similar, but usually you’re on vacation, and it’s charmingly refreshing. Of course with my inherited penchant for efficiency from my German forefathers, and my American ways of doing things, neither “charming” nor “refreshing” are words that have come to mind when it happens to me here in Samoa. That said, I’ve become much more patient and understanding. I never actually expect things to happen when they say they will, and so occasionally I’m pleasantly surprised.
I thought that living in Hawai’i would prepare me somewhat for living in Wheneverland. Life moves at a slower pace there too, compared to the mainland. But I will never again complain about living on Hawaiian time. I’m sure it will seem positively punctual in comparison. However, a phrase from the pidgin language of Hawai’i serves well here too – “bum bye.” When the missionaries came to Hawai’i they taught the Hawaiians many traditional hymns. One of the hymns was “In the Sweet Bye and Bye,” which loosely explained, means that we’ll get to heaven someday – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday – bye and bye. So it became “bum bye” in pidgin, and means I’ll get around to it one of these days.
So, I sign off from Samoa for today with high hopes for getting things done tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever . . . bum bye.
Here’s how things work here:
Last week I visited the primary school in the neighboring village where Poutasi kids go to school. I told the principal that I would like to help at the school and he asked me to come back on Monday at 11:30. I saw him in the village on Thursday last week and we talked about it again. So yesterday I walked the two miles to the school on a very hot day, and he wasn’t there.
We received about $2,000US from the New Zealand High Commission to buy a printer/copier and do some minor remodeling needed for our small village computer center/homework center. Last Friday the electrician was supposed to come give an estimate for the minor electrical work we need, and I still haven’t seen or heard from him.
Speaking of the computer center, my contact at the NZ Commission told me the funding committee would be meeting the first week in March. Well, they didn’t meet, but told me they would meet the following week. They didn’t of course, but were supposed to meet the next week. Suffice to say, that they finally met in April.
Two weeks ago we scheduled a committee meeting to talk about some projects here in the village. Two people of six on the committee showed up, and one of them came 45 minutes after the appointed starting time
I could go on and on.
Sometimes one visits other countries where the concept of time is similar, but usually you’re on vacation, and it’s charmingly refreshing. Of course with my inherited penchant for efficiency from my German forefathers, and my American ways of doing things, neither “charming” nor “refreshing” are words that have come to mind when it happens to me here in Samoa. That said, I’ve become much more patient and understanding. I never actually expect things to happen when they say they will, and so occasionally I’m pleasantly surprised.
I thought that living in Hawai’i would prepare me somewhat for living in Wheneverland. Life moves at a slower pace there too, compared to the mainland. But I will never again complain about living on Hawaiian time. I’m sure it will seem positively punctual in comparison. However, a phrase from the pidgin language of Hawai’i serves well here too – “bum bye.” When the missionaries came to Hawai’i they taught the Hawaiians many traditional hymns. One of the hymns was “In the Sweet Bye and Bye,” which loosely explained, means that we’ll get to heaven someday – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday – bye and bye. So it became “bum bye” in pidgin, and means I’ll get around to it one of these days.
So, I sign off from Samoa for today with high hopes for getting things done tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever . . . bum bye.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Like a Boat at Sea
I was thinking the other day about the ups and downs one has as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Frustration, anger, hurt feelings, misunderstandings, loneliness, boredom, inertia – friendship, exhilaration, gratitude, kindness, satisfaction, appreciation, amusement. Sweat, lice, diarrhea, bugs, pisupo*, leg cramps**, cold showers – sea breezes, beaches, mangoes, sunsets, snorkeling, no shoes, the laughter of children.
It’s like being on a small boat at sea. Sometimes the ocean swells are coming from afar, and even though the weather is fine in Samoa, you can feel the effect of a storm thousands of miles away. Sometimes the sea is rough and your fragile boat rises with a huge wave and then plunges into the trough, over and over again. Once in awhile a storm threatens and you are caught unawares, holding on for dear life, hoping you will live to tell the tale. And sometimes, it is blessedly peaceful, and you glide over the crystal clear water with ease, a few white fluffy clouds in the brilliantly blue sky, the warmth of the sun on your back, looking to the horizon with anticipation.
*Fatty canned corned beef that looks like dog food.
** From sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours.
It’s like being on a small boat at sea. Sometimes the ocean swells are coming from afar, and even though the weather is fine in Samoa, you can feel the effect of a storm thousands of miles away. Sometimes the sea is rough and your fragile boat rises with a huge wave and then plunges into the trough, over and over again. Once in awhile a storm threatens and you are caught unawares, holding on for dear life, hoping you will live to tell the tale. And sometimes, it is blessedly peaceful, and you glide over the crystal clear water with ease, a few white fluffy clouds in the brilliantly blue sky, the warmth of the sun on your back, looking to the horizon with anticipation.
*Fatty canned corned beef that looks like dog food.
** From sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Short Subjects . . .
Samoans bury their dead in elaborate graves in front of the main house of their family compound. Called tia, the graves are often two or three tiers high and are decorated with natural stone or sometimes painted. It’s a comfort that the departed are still close by and it’s a convenient place to sit in the cool of the evening.
***
Some of the western-style clothing and accessories worn by Samoans makes me smile. You may see a muscular 18-year old Samoan guy with a Winnie the Pooh backpack, or an old woman with a dirty slogan in English on her t-shirt. Samoans like a little flash, and sunglasses with rhinestone trim are worn by men or women. Fake Crocs are all the fashion here now and it doesn’t matter if a guy is wearing pink ones.
***
You can always tell when a ship from China has come with some new product. Lately the little shops have all been selling synthetic hair pieces for women – circles of curls, switches, etc. The Samoan women wear them as hair accessories, regardless of the color.
***
Folding money is easy to slip into the folds of a lavalava around your waist, but what do you do with the coins? Put them in your ear.
***
Samoan kids never get bedtime stories, a good night kiss, or get tucked into their beds at night. I know that it’s an American/European custom, but it’s a nice one. They don’t even have a set bedtime or get told to go to bed. They fall asleep whenever they feel like it, which is usually late by American standards – 10:00 pm or later. They nap in the afternoons to make up for it. Of course it’s hard to put a kid “to bed” when the whole family sleeps together on mats on the floor in the same room.
***
As I’ve mentioned, Samoans have an elaborate system of respect and polite interaction. So I was shocked to find that it all goes by the wayside when it comes to waiting in lines. At the movie theater people will gather in front of the ticket taker in a sort of bulbous line, and then when he begins to take tickets, there is a mad rush with people literally pushing and shoving to get in. There’s no deference to age or sex. It’s the same to get on the bus in Apia if there is a large group of people gathered waiting when the bus arrives. It’s like they were escaping from a burning building.
***
Some of the western-style clothing and accessories worn by Samoans makes me smile. You may see a muscular 18-year old Samoan guy with a Winnie the Pooh backpack, or an old woman with a dirty slogan in English on her t-shirt. Samoans like a little flash, and sunglasses with rhinestone trim are worn by men or women. Fake Crocs are all the fashion here now and it doesn’t matter if a guy is wearing pink ones.
***
You can always tell when a ship from China has come with some new product. Lately the little shops have all been selling synthetic hair pieces for women – circles of curls, switches, etc. The Samoan women wear them as hair accessories, regardless of the color.
***
Folding money is easy to slip into the folds of a lavalava around your waist, but what do you do with the coins? Put them in your ear.
***
Samoan kids never get bedtime stories, a good night kiss, or get tucked into their beds at night. I know that it’s an American/European custom, but it’s a nice one. They don’t even have a set bedtime or get told to go to bed. They fall asleep whenever they feel like it, which is usually late by American standards – 10:00 pm or later. They nap in the afternoons to make up for it. Of course it’s hard to put a kid “to bed” when the whole family sleeps together on mats on the floor in the same room.
***
As I’ve mentioned, Samoans have an elaborate system of respect and polite interaction. So I was shocked to find that it all goes by the wayside when it comes to waiting in lines. At the movie theater people will gather in front of the ticket taker in a sort of bulbous line, and then when he begins to take tickets, there is a mad rush with people literally pushing and shoving to get in. There’s no deference to age or sex. It’s the same to get on the bus in Apia if there is a large group of people gathered waiting when the bus arrives. It’s like they were escaping from a burning building.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Bus Ride to Apia
I get up at 5:15 when the alarm goes off. I’m not usually ready to awaken yet. It’s still dark. There’s no water from the tap yet at this time of the day, so I use water from my storage bottles to wash my face and brush my teeth. Sometimes I heat a little bit of water in my electric teapot and splash warm water on my face – a treat! (For those of you who don’t know – we have no hot water from the tap.) I make sure I have everything for the day in town – take the sheets off the bed if I’m taking laundry, umbrella, money, paperwork, books to return to the PC office, something to read on the bus, flash drive, sometimes my camera, etc. A little before 6:00 I start watching out my window for Afakasi to start the bus.
Afakasi lives in the family compound next to us and drives a fire-engine-red red bus to Apia Monday through Saturday. There are no Sunday buses. Even though going on Afakasi’s bus is the long way (instead of taking the cross-island bus which I could catch on the main road and which would take me to Apia in a little over an hour, instead of two hours), I much prefer it for several reasons. First of all, it’s so convenient. I can walk out my front door and get on the bus with no waiting and get a good seat. The seats are comfortable, “normal” bus seats compared to the wooden benches on the other buses. I don’t have to carry my bags to, or especially from, the main road (about a half mile walk). And lastly, many of the passengers on the bus are people from Poutasi or neighboring villages who I know.
When he starts the bus I walk over, and because I’m the first on the bus, I always get the seat I want, which is the left front seat by the window. It’s cooler and more comfortable by the window; there’s more leg room in the front and therefore room for my bags in front of my feet; and, because I’m usually one of the first off of the bus, it’s much easier to get off. I usually have a number of people sit beside me during the ride to Apia. Someone will sit there – say a middle-aged man for example. When an older man gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to him and move back. If an elderly woman then gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to her and move back. If there are no seats left at that point, someone younger will give up their seat to the elderly man and so on. By the time we’ve picked up all of the passengers there are people standing in the aisles, sometimes all the way to the front door, and sitting on each another’s laps.
I’ve been riding the bus from Poutasi to Apia and back for six months now at least once a week, and I still enjoy the ride. Sometimes I nap or read, but more often than not I just look out the window, relax, daydream, and enjoy the scenery which is stunningly beautiful. I also enjoy watching the people as we drive through villages along the way.
In the early morning it’s cool – yesterday I actually used an ‘ie (a piece of cloth which wraps around as a long skirt) from my laundry tote as a shawl as it was really chilly (at least to me in this tropical climate – it was probably only about 70!). We drive into the sunrise with shades of pink and orange and blue blending together on the horizon.
There are usually about a dozen or so people from Poutasi who get on the bus and then we stop at every village along the way, and in between, until we get to Salani. To catch a ride on a Samoan bus you don’t need to wait at a bus stop. You just wait on the road in front of your house and the bus will stop for you. Sometimes Kasi stops for someone to get on, and then stops again 100 feet down the road.
At Salani we cease traveling along the southeastern coast and turn to climb the road to Le Mafa Pass (which is redundant, since mafa means pass, but that’s what it’s called on the maps and signs). There are magnificent views all along the way, especially on this stretch of road. Although the pass is only about 1,000 feet in elevation, and the tallest surrounding mountains are only a little over 3,000 feet, the view from the pass is amazing. There is a steep descent to the river valley below and you can see all the way to the ocean, about seven miles away. The valley and the surrounding hillsides are lush with tropical vegetation – tree ferns twenty feet tall, coconut palms, towering banyan trees snaking roots to the ground, teak trees with leaves the size of placemats, and an under story of vines and ferns. In the sunshine everything is vibrantly green with a brilliant blue sky and white puffy clouds. Sometimes early in the morning the clouds are below us and wind their way through the valley below as if looking for a way out.
When the bus climbs up the mountain it creaks and groans and Kasi downshifts and urges it along. Let’s say the average Samoan weighs 200 lbs. With about 70 people (on a bus with 29 seats) this is seven tons of people! Yes, there are a few children on the bus as well, but there are also many Samoans who weigh well over 200 lbs, and there are bags and baskets of produce to be sold at the market in Apia.
There are a few homes along the mountain road, but no villages. After we make the descent from the pass we begin to drive through villages again, all the way to Apia. We pass Falefa falls and drive beside the roaring Falefa river. Now we’re on the north side of the island with waves crashing close to shore with the white foam of the breakers sometimes spraying onto the rocks along the side of the road.
Naturally it’s usually about this time that I’ve been lulled into getting sleepy when we’re only about a half hour from Apia. Sometimes I give in and nap a little. Then it’s time to tell Kasi, “Taofi i le Ofisa Pisikoa fa’amolemole,” and he stops on the street in front of the Peace Corps office. I’m in Apia for the day and it’s about 8:00 am.
After a day of shopping, email, other Apia errands, and lunch in a restaurant – a real extravagance – I head home. Although the bus doesn’t leave to head back to Poutasi until 4:30, I try to get there between 3:30 and 4:00 to get a good seat. The last time I didn’t get there early enough and I sat about four seats back in the bus wedged between a very fat man sitting by the window on my right with a snotty kid on his lap, and another very fat man standing in the aisle next to me who was smoking (yes, people smoke on Samoan buses). You might wonder why no one gave up his/her seat to me. Well, actually they did. The bus was totally full already and someone gave up that seat to me. But the good news was, that meant I’m just one of the villagers and no one felt they had to give me the best seat on the bus!
But assuming I get there early, I usually read while I’m waiting for the bus to leave. It’s very hot sitting there in the bus waiting. By the time the bus leaves I’m usually hot and sweaty all over down to the roots of my hair. Got to keep that seat though!
Yesterday Mataomanu sat by me with her four-year old grandson Sam on her lap. She lives in Poutasi, is the president of the Women’s Committee in the village, and a 3rd grade teacher at the primary school. She’s a very pretty, plump older woman and I like her very much. She wears wire-rimmed glasses and has a merry look about her. If she was fair of skin and wearing red velvet instead of tropical prints, she would look like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her husband is Meleisea, one of the high chiefs of the village, and he reminds me of my dad. I’ve been trying to figure out why – he doesn’t look anything like him, except that he’s balding – but now that I think about it, I think I do know why. He always has a smile for everyone. But I digress . . .
So we begin the journey home. A couple of miles out of town we stop at Pacific Express, a small general store, where most people get off the bus for drinks, snacks, and a few last minute groceries. Then it finally begins to cool off when we get going again with the wind blowing in the open window. The CD on the bus is playing loud Samoan music, and this same CD will play over and over again all the way home. The air is wet and the colors are intense from the rain shower just past. The sea and the coconut palms rush by on my left; the forest is a vivid green blur on my right, with houses, churches, and small stores interspersed as we pass through small villages. We drive by men trimming the bushes with machetes. Teenagers are playing volleyball in the mud. Waves are crashing on the reef off-shore. We pass a procession of about 20 people walking down the road, led by a priest carrying upright in front of him a three-foot high cross – everyone is dressed in white. Two young boys run alongside, racing the bus as it goes by. Multicolored laundry is lying on the rocks in front of the houses to dry. Bananas, cocoa, taro, mango, breadfruit and papayas grow everywhere. Young men going to Apia crowd into the back of an old blue pickup truck; others hang out in front of the tiny village stores. Young girls walk down the road holding hands. Old women pull weeds from between the small rocks in front of their houses. There are ever-present flowers of pink, red, yellow, orange, and white. Dogs, chickens, and sometimes pigs, scurry to get out of the way of the bus. Women are washing cooking pots at the water tap in the front yard. A boy on a bike wobbles carrying coconut frond baskets filled with garden produce on each side of the handle bars. Children are helping to clean up the yard picking up the large leaves and placing them in similar baskets. I smell the smoke from the cooking fires. There are people everywhere. Families are gathering at the end of the day.
As we go by Falefa falls, leaving the villages, and beginning to climb up to the pass, mud hens dart across the road every now and then. Wispy clouds brush the mountaintops. Three-foot high stacks of coconuts sit by the side of the road to be picked up by the buyer. Cattle graze in the valley below between the coconut palms. We pass Mafa with its spectacular view all the way to the ocean, more waterfalls, and roadside stands selling produce. Now we’re back to the villages on the south side of the island. There is a mother sitting on her front door step nursing her baby. Fala is drying in front yards to weave into mats. Naked little boys are running across the grass. A woman stands in front of her house with her long black hair shiny-wet from the shower with an bright pink and blue ‘ie wrapped around her sarong-style. There is the still, clear water of the mangrove lagoon in Vaovai. Horses are tethered at the side of the road eating grass. We slow down for the bumpy drive into Poutasi. Children are splashing and playing in the sea. The sun is sinking into the ocean in a blaze of red and gold. It’s 6:30 pm. Home sweet home.
Afakasi lives in the family compound next to us and drives a fire-engine-red red bus to Apia Monday through Saturday. There are no Sunday buses. Even though going on Afakasi’s bus is the long way (instead of taking the cross-island bus which I could catch on the main road and which would take me to Apia in a little over an hour, instead of two hours), I much prefer it for several reasons. First of all, it’s so convenient. I can walk out my front door and get on the bus with no waiting and get a good seat. The seats are comfortable, “normal” bus seats compared to the wooden benches on the other buses. I don’t have to carry my bags to, or especially from, the main road (about a half mile walk). And lastly, many of the passengers on the bus are people from Poutasi or neighboring villages who I know.
When he starts the bus I walk over, and because I’m the first on the bus, I always get the seat I want, which is the left front seat by the window. It’s cooler and more comfortable by the window; there’s more leg room in the front and therefore room for my bags in front of my feet; and, because I’m usually one of the first off of the bus, it’s much easier to get off. I usually have a number of people sit beside me during the ride to Apia. Someone will sit there – say a middle-aged man for example. When an older man gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to him and move back. If an elderly woman then gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to her and move back. If there are no seats left at that point, someone younger will give up their seat to the elderly man and so on. By the time we’ve picked up all of the passengers there are people standing in the aisles, sometimes all the way to the front door, and sitting on each another’s laps.
I’ve been riding the bus from Poutasi to Apia and back for six months now at least once a week, and I still enjoy the ride. Sometimes I nap or read, but more often than not I just look out the window, relax, daydream, and enjoy the scenery which is stunningly beautiful. I also enjoy watching the people as we drive through villages along the way.
In the early morning it’s cool – yesterday I actually used an ‘ie (a piece of cloth which wraps around as a long skirt) from my laundry tote as a shawl as it was really chilly (at least to me in this tropical climate – it was probably only about 70!). We drive into the sunrise with shades of pink and orange and blue blending together on the horizon.
There are usually about a dozen or so people from Poutasi who get on the bus and then we stop at every village along the way, and in between, until we get to Salani. To catch a ride on a Samoan bus you don’t need to wait at a bus stop. You just wait on the road in front of your house and the bus will stop for you. Sometimes Kasi stops for someone to get on, and then stops again 100 feet down the road.
At Salani we cease traveling along the southeastern coast and turn to climb the road to Le Mafa Pass (which is redundant, since mafa means pass, but that’s what it’s called on the maps and signs). There are magnificent views all along the way, especially on this stretch of road. Although the pass is only about 1,000 feet in elevation, and the tallest surrounding mountains are only a little over 3,000 feet, the view from the pass is amazing. There is a steep descent to the river valley below and you can see all the way to the ocean, about seven miles away. The valley and the surrounding hillsides are lush with tropical vegetation – tree ferns twenty feet tall, coconut palms, towering banyan trees snaking roots to the ground, teak trees with leaves the size of placemats, and an under story of vines and ferns. In the sunshine everything is vibrantly green with a brilliant blue sky and white puffy clouds. Sometimes early in the morning the clouds are below us and wind their way through the valley below as if looking for a way out.
When the bus climbs up the mountain it creaks and groans and Kasi downshifts and urges it along. Let’s say the average Samoan weighs 200 lbs. With about 70 people (on a bus with 29 seats) this is seven tons of people! Yes, there are a few children on the bus as well, but there are also many Samoans who weigh well over 200 lbs, and there are bags and baskets of produce to be sold at the market in Apia.
There are a few homes along the mountain road, but no villages. After we make the descent from the pass we begin to drive through villages again, all the way to Apia. We pass Falefa falls and drive beside the roaring Falefa river. Now we’re on the north side of the island with waves crashing close to shore with the white foam of the breakers sometimes spraying onto the rocks along the side of the road.
Naturally it’s usually about this time that I’ve been lulled into getting sleepy when we’re only about a half hour from Apia. Sometimes I give in and nap a little. Then it’s time to tell Kasi, “Taofi i le Ofisa Pisikoa fa’amolemole,” and he stops on the street in front of the Peace Corps office. I’m in Apia for the day and it’s about 8:00 am.
After a day of shopping, email, other Apia errands, and lunch in a restaurant – a real extravagance – I head home. Although the bus doesn’t leave to head back to Poutasi until 4:30, I try to get there between 3:30 and 4:00 to get a good seat. The last time I didn’t get there early enough and I sat about four seats back in the bus wedged between a very fat man sitting by the window on my right with a snotty kid on his lap, and another very fat man standing in the aisle next to me who was smoking (yes, people smoke on Samoan buses). You might wonder why no one gave up his/her seat to me. Well, actually they did. The bus was totally full already and someone gave up that seat to me. But the good news was, that meant I’m just one of the villagers and no one felt they had to give me the best seat on the bus!
But assuming I get there early, I usually read while I’m waiting for the bus to leave. It’s very hot sitting there in the bus waiting. By the time the bus leaves I’m usually hot and sweaty all over down to the roots of my hair. Got to keep that seat though!
Yesterday Mataomanu sat by me with her four-year old grandson Sam on her lap. She lives in Poutasi, is the president of the Women’s Committee in the village, and a 3rd grade teacher at the primary school. She’s a very pretty, plump older woman and I like her very much. She wears wire-rimmed glasses and has a merry look about her. If she was fair of skin and wearing red velvet instead of tropical prints, she would look like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her husband is Meleisea, one of the high chiefs of the village, and he reminds me of my dad. I’ve been trying to figure out why – he doesn’t look anything like him, except that he’s balding – but now that I think about it, I think I do know why. He always has a smile for everyone. But I digress . . .
So we begin the journey home. A couple of miles out of town we stop at Pacific Express, a small general store, where most people get off the bus for drinks, snacks, and a few last minute groceries. Then it finally begins to cool off when we get going again with the wind blowing in the open window. The CD on the bus is playing loud Samoan music, and this same CD will play over and over again all the way home. The air is wet and the colors are intense from the rain shower just past. The sea and the coconut palms rush by on my left; the forest is a vivid green blur on my right, with houses, churches, and small stores interspersed as we pass through small villages. We drive by men trimming the bushes with machetes. Teenagers are playing volleyball in the mud. Waves are crashing on the reef off-shore. We pass a procession of about 20 people walking down the road, led by a priest carrying upright in front of him a three-foot high cross – everyone is dressed in white. Two young boys run alongside, racing the bus as it goes by. Multicolored laundry is lying on the rocks in front of the houses to dry. Bananas, cocoa, taro, mango, breadfruit and papayas grow everywhere. Young men going to Apia crowd into the back of an old blue pickup truck; others hang out in front of the tiny village stores. Young girls walk down the road holding hands. Old women pull weeds from between the small rocks in front of their houses. There are ever-present flowers of pink, red, yellow, orange, and white. Dogs, chickens, and sometimes pigs, scurry to get out of the way of the bus. Women are washing cooking pots at the water tap in the front yard. A boy on a bike wobbles carrying coconut frond baskets filled with garden produce on each side of the handle bars. Children are helping to clean up the yard picking up the large leaves and placing them in similar baskets. I smell the smoke from the cooking fires. There are people everywhere. Families are gathering at the end of the day.
As we go by Falefa falls, leaving the villages, and beginning to climb up to the pass, mud hens dart across the road every now and then. Wispy clouds brush the mountaintops. Three-foot high stacks of coconuts sit by the side of the road to be picked up by the buyer. Cattle graze in the valley below between the coconut palms. We pass Mafa with its spectacular view all the way to the ocean, more waterfalls, and roadside stands selling produce. Now we’re back to the villages on the south side of the island. There is a mother sitting on her front door step nursing her baby. Fala is drying in front yards to weave into mats. Naked little boys are running across the grass. A woman stands in front of her house with her long black hair shiny-wet from the shower with an bright pink and blue ‘ie wrapped around her sarong-style. There is the still, clear water of the mangrove lagoon in Vaovai. Horses are tethered at the side of the road eating grass. We slow down for the bumpy drive into Poutasi. Children are splashing and playing in the sea. The sun is sinking into the ocean in a blaze of red and gold. It’s 6:30 pm. Home sweet home.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Marine Environmental Project in the Village
On behalf of the village I applied to the United Nations Development Project Global Environment Facility Small Grants Programme (no wonder we just call it UNDP) for funding for a marine environmental project. Last week we heard that the village was awarded a grant in the amount of $20,000 US which is obviously great news! Here are a couple of excerpts from the project proposal which will gives an overview:
The
- Professional assessment of ways to improve current drainage systems
- Coral gardening; restocking of clam population; building fish houses
- Establishment of a Marine Protected Area
- Planting coastal and other appropriate vegetation to reduce erosion
- Awareness training and promotion of the importance of protecting the environment
- Creation of potential eco-tourism opportunities for the village related to the marine environment.
Accomplishment of these tasks will improve the quality of life for the village and neighboring villages as follows:
- Increased respect for and awareness of the importance of protecting the fragile marine environment
- Improved management of fisheries and coastal areas
- Increased marine biodiversity of both flora and fauna
- Protection of vulnerable marine areas from effects of climate change and natural disasters
- Creation of tourism/economic opportunities
- Improved food security
- Improved and healthier environment for bathing area.
This is a one-year long project to start in April. The village is contributing the equivalent of $16,400 US in funding, materials, and labor as well. We will receive periodic funding as we accomplish various tasks in our work plan. The first phase includes technical assessments from government departments such as the Divisions of Fisheries, Environment and Conservation, and Forestry; cleanup of the river banks, beach and natural springs; and construction of retaining walls at the natural springs. That portion is expected to take about four or five months. The natural springs have created large pools, including a lagoon in the center of the village.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Geckos and Spiders and Rats! OH MY!
As on most Pacific Islands, there are very few native animals in Samoa. Because they were isolated and without human inhabitants until very recently historically, all life that evolved here came in one of three ways: wing, water, and wind. So birds are the most common and diverse animals. Sadly, many native birds on the Pacific islands have become extinct. Western ships brought with them mosquitoes (with avian malaria), and other animals, that have devastated the bird populations. Nonetheless, there are a lot of birds here, native and non-native. I especially enjoy watching the water birds, swooping low over the ocean, looking for a meal.
There and mice and rats, nearly ubiquitous throughout the world. There are still a few islands in the Pacific without them. They came with the first ships and have been one of the main threats to birds. I haven’t seen any in our house in Poutasi, but I see them occasionally in other houses, and even in the Peace Corps office. Most people have outdoor cats to control the mice and rats. There aren’t any other small animals – no squirrels, chipmunks, possums, rabbits, skunks, foxes, etc. No snakes either.
There are newts and geckos which are small, only a few inches long. The geckos come and go inside the houses and are appreciated since they eat the mosquitoes and other insects. They’re actually pretty darn cute walking up the wall on their sticky little feet. Speaking of other insects, there are flies, of course, and spiders, some quite large. The largest spider I’ve seen was about five inches across from leg tip to leg tip (do spiders have feet?). There are also lots of millipedes, an inch or so long with lots of tiny legs. They won’t hurt you, but they come out at night and it’s kind of gross to squish one with your bare foot in the dark when you’re on your way to visit the facilities. There are large centipedes which are five or six inches long and have a nasty bite that swells up. Fortunately, I’ve never been bitten, but a lot of Peace Corps volunteers have. There are some pretty good sized cockroaches (maybe two inches long), but they are easily controlled with some insect spray, especially in a western-style house like I live in. And there are small ants always and everywhere.
The only native mammal is the fruit bat. The Polynesians, who came here in canoes 3,000 years ago, brought with them chickens, dogs, and pigs. Chickens roam freely, but they go home to roost at night in the trees at the family compound. Families feed them rice or shredded coconut – not much, just enough so they know where home is. The chickens are very pretty. The roosters are usually multi-colored with iridescent blue-green and brown and gold feathers. I saw one chicken in the village that was white with black spots, just like a Dalmatian. The little chicks are delightful to watch as the follow their mother around the yard learning to scratch for food.
Some pigs are fenced in, but others roam, rooting around for food, and like the chickens, know where home is. They’re fed fruit like papayas or green bananas, and leftover vegetable matter (peels, squash rinds, etc.) The pigs that aren’t fenced in are really quite a nuisance and gardens must be fenced to keep the pigs out. There are also wild pigs. Some families have cattle – maybe a small herd or maybe just one (cows aren’t milked). Both pigs and cattle are like currency and the number of pigs and cattle that you have are a sign of wealth. Fines are levied in the village for breaking village rules and payment is often a pig to the chiefs. At ceremonial occasions, such as weddings, funerals, or any special event, roast pigs are brought to present to the honored guests. The larger the pig, the larger the honor bestowed. And if a cow is butchered and given to the honored guests, it is deemed to be a special tribute.
Horses are used to get to and from the farmlands just outside the village, and to carry produce, or otherwise as beasts of burden. They are ridden with many strands of grasses about four feet long bunched together and laid over their backs with a small blanket on top of the grass. Looks very comfy; they aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. There are a few sheep here, but they are new in the country and are on experimental farms.
The only other animals are the dogs. There are a lot of them and they are mostly pests, not pets. There are occasionally dogs that remind you of a recognized dog breed somewhere in their distant lineage, but most are a standard mutt, usually light brown with occasionally some black or white coloring, short hair, with a slender build, and some are dreadfully skinny. Surplus dogs fend for themselves and roam around in packs. Many Peace Corps volunteers have been bitten by dogs (not me, knock on wood). Although I’ve had a moment or two of worry while I stood my ground and shouted, while pretending to pick up a rock and throw it at them. There weren’t any rocks nearby, or I would have actually done it. Nearly every family has three or four watch dogs who are profoundly territorial. At night there are a lot of dog fights. Almost every dog has some remnant of an injury – a lame leg, a torn ear. The female dogs are always pregnant or nursing. I don’t know what they do with the surplus puppies, and I don’t want to know. With few exceptions, dogs aren’t neutered and are abused. They are routinely kicked if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are never petted. One of our dogs died last week, apparently of poisoning. Not intentional probably. He likely got into some insecticide or something. It was awful to see him suffer for hours and then die. Of course in the states, he would have been rushed to the vet, but there was no vehicle that day to take him to Apia, and they wouldn’t have anyway. So it was just, “He’s dying.” And so he did.
There’s a new puppy now, cute as a button, and about the size of a fat cat. I already hear him yelping occasionally from the lesson of the swift kick when he wants to come into the house. It’s hard to get accustomed to that. I told the family here that my dog in America stays in the house and sleeps on my bed, and they literally just looked at me and didn’t say a thing. I think it was simply incomprehensible.
There and mice and rats, nearly ubiquitous throughout the world. There are still a few islands in the Pacific without them. They came with the first ships and have been one of the main threats to birds. I haven’t seen any in our house in Poutasi, but I see them occasionally in other houses, and even in the Peace Corps office. Most people have outdoor cats to control the mice and rats. There aren’t any other small animals – no squirrels, chipmunks, possums, rabbits, skunks, foxes, etc. No snakes either.
There are newts and geckos which are small, only a few inches long. The geckos come and go inside the houses and are appreciated since they eat the mosquitoes and other insects. They’re actually pretty darn cute walking up the wall on their sticky little feet. Speaking of other insects, there are flies, of course, and spiders, some quite large. The largest spider I’ve seen was about five inches across from leg tip to leg tip (do spiders have feet?). There are also lots of millipedes, an inch or so long with lots of tiny legs. They won’t hurt you, but they come out at night and it’s kind of gross to squish one with your bare foot in the dark when you’re on your way to visit the facilities. There are large centipedes which are five or six inches long and have a nasty bite that swells up. Fortunately, I’ve never been bitten, but a lot of Peace Corps volunteers have. There are some pretty good sized cockroaches (maybe two inches long), but they are easily controlled with some insect spray, especially in a western-style house like I live in. And there are small ants always and everywhere.
The only native mammal is the fruit bat. The Polynesians, who came here in canoes 3,000 years ago, brought with them chickens, dogs, and pigs. Chickens roam freely, but they go home to roost at night in the trees at the family compound. Families feed them rice or shredded coconut – not much, just enough so they know where home is. The chickens are very pretty. The roosters are usually multi-colored with iridescent blue-green and brown and gold feathers. I saw one chicken in the village that was white with black spots, just like a Dalmatian. The little chicks are delightful to watch as the follow their mother around the yard learning to scratch for food.
Some pigs are fenced in, but others roam, rooting around for food, and like the chickens, know where home is. They’re fed fruit like papayas or green bananas, and leftover vegetable matter (peels, squash rinds, etc.) The pigs that aren’t fenced in are really quite a nuisance and gardens must be fenced to keep the pigs out. There are also wild pigs. Some families have cattle – maybe a small herd or maybe just one (cows aren’t milked). Both pigs and cattle are like currency and the number of pigs and cattle that you have are a sign of wealth. Fines are levied in the village for breaking village rules and payment is often a pig to the chiefs. At ceremonial occasions, such as weddings, funerals, or any special event, roast pigs are brought to present to the honored guests. The larger the pig, the larger the honor bestowed. And if a cow is butchered and given to the honored guests, it is deemed to be a special tribute.
Horses are used to get to and from the farmlands just outside the village, and to carry produce, or otherwise as beasts of burden. They are ridden with many strands of grasses about four feet long bunched together and laid over their backs with a small blanket on top of the grass. Looks very comfy; they aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. There are a few sheep here, but they are new in the country and are on experimental farms.
The only other animals are the dogs. There are a lot of them and they are mostly pests, not pets. There are occasionally dogs that remind you of a recognized dog breed somewhere in their distant lineage, but most are a standard mutt, usually light brown with occasionally some black or white coloring, short hair, with a slender build, and some are dreadfully skinny. Surplus dogs fend for themselves and roam around in packs. Many Peace Corps volunteers have been bitten by dogs (not me, knock on wood). Although I’ve had a moment or two of worry while I stood my ground and shouted, while pretending to pick up a rock and throw it at them. There weren’t any rocks nearby, or I would have actually done it. Nearly every family has three or four watch dogs who are profoundly territorial. At night there are a lot of dog fights. Almost every dog has some remnant of an injury – a lame leg, a torn ear. The female dogs are always pregnant or nursing. I don’t know what they do with the surplus puppies, and I don’t want to know. With few exceptions, dogs aren’t neutered and are abused. They are routinely kicked if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are never petted. One of our dogs died last week, apparently of poisoning. Not intentional probably. He likely got into some insecticide or something. It was awful to see him suffer for hours and then die. Of course in the states, he would have been rushed to the vet, but there was no vehicle that day to take him to Apia, and they wouldn’t have anyway. So it was just, “He’s dying.” And so he did.
There’s a new puppy now, cute as a button, and about the size of a fat cat. I already hear him yelping occasionally from the lesson of the swift kick when he wants to come into the house. It’s hard to get accustomed to that. I told the family here that my dog in America stays in the house and sleeps on my bed, and they literally just looked at me and didn’t say a thing. I think it was simply incomprehensible.
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