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.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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.
Friday, December 28, 2007
What is life like in my Samoan village?
So what is life like in the village? Background info . . . . Apia is the only town/city in Samoa. It has about 35,000 people and the rest of the population of the country of 180,000 people live in small villages, mostly along the coastlines. My village of Poutasi has a population of 325±. On the map I’ve made of the village there are 50 family compounds some of which house one nuclear family and others an extended family. It is a lovely village – pleasing to the eye. About half of the homes, including mine, are located on the ocean and the other half up the mountain a little ways. Some of the houses are very Western in style, others are the traditional open thatched-roof fales, and most are something in between.
Some of the men and women work outside of the village during the day – in offices or shops in Apia or as school teachers, etc. Most of the women stay at home and care for the family and many men also work on their family farms or fish instead of working elsewhere. Less than half of the families have vehicles. Most people ride the bus.
A general answer to the question would be “quiet.” The only sounds normally are the muffled roar of the surf on the fringing reef, which quickly becomes white noise, roosters crowing, dogs barking, birds singing, and usually music playing somewhere. On a daily basis people go about their normal activities. For the women this would be sewing, cleaning, cooking, weaving, child care, etc. Actually cooking takes up a great deal of time. Most people, including the family that I live with, still cook on open fires or in underground ovens with hot rocks in back of the main house (we have a one-burner propane cook top inside too). The men will go fishing or to their farm, which is up the mountain a little ways. That’s usually early in the morning or when it begins to cool off late in day. In the afternoon the women will often gather in the women’s committee house (an open fale) to talk, weave, play cards, or sleep.
Church and bingo are the two big activities of the week in the village. There are two churches in the village – Catholic and Congregational (the church of the missionaries which is descended from the Puritans, if I remember correctly). There are two church services on Sunday, not including Sunday School and the Youth Group meeting after church Sunday evening. There are usually one or two other church activities during the week too, such as choir practice or the women’s fellowship. Bingo is in the church hall and is a fund raiser for the church – very well-attended!
My life in the village will always be mostly unstructured, but is probably a little more so right now because I’m still settling in and not working very aggressively on any projects yet. But this is my “routine” at this point. I wake up about 6:30 and go for a walk on the road along the ocean in the cool of the day. Then I make breakfast etc. and figure out what I’m going to do for the day. If it’s Sunday I go to church. I usually go to the Congregational Church since it reminds me of the church where I went when I was young. My Samoan family also goes there. But every now and then I go to the Catholic service to make sure I continue to get acquainted with everyone in the village. It’s really important for us to go to church since it’s such an important part of village life. On Sunday there is nothing else to do since it’s a day of rest. We come home, eat a big meal and sleep and relax until the afternoon service. In addition to not working, on Sunday there is no swimming allowed and the young people don’t play rugby or volleyball like the usually do in the afternoons.
For these first few months in the village our primary “job” is to get to know the village and the people. So what I do each day varies from visiting the primary and secondary schools, going to village meetings of the chiefs or the women’s committee, to just studying the language. Sometimes I go and visit with the women in the committee house in the afternoon. And some days I just stay at home and read or write. I usually write some each day. Lately I’ve also been reading some sample proposals from other Peace Corps projects and making phone calls to set up appointments to get information about some of the proposed projects for the village. Nearly every afternoon I sit in the open fale next to the ocean and read or write, watch the fishermen or the children playing in the sea, and watch the sunset (always spectacular!). In the evening I read, watch dvd’s, play computer games, listen to Radio Australia (like NPR), etc. The family I live with has a TV, but there’s not much to watch.
After the holidays I’ll be starting to work in earnest on funding for the Learning Centre and an environmental project along the river bank and sea shore as well as some community gardens. It’s a process.
Some of the men and women work outside of the village during the day – in offices or shops in Apia or as school teachers, etc. Most of the women stay at home and care for the family and many men also work on their family farms or fish instead of working elsewhere. Less than half of the families have vehicles. Most people ride the bus.
A general answer to the question would be “quiet.” The only sounds normally are the muffled roar of the surf on the fringing reef, which quickly becomes white noise, roosters crowing, dogs barking, birds singing, and usually music playing somewhere. On a daily basis people go about their normal activities. For the women this would be sewing, cleaning, cooking, weaving, child care, etc. Actually cooking takes up a great deal of time. Most people, including the family that I live with, still cook on open fires or in underground ovens with hot rocks in back of the main house (we have a one-burner propane cook top inside too). The men will go fishing or to their farm, which is up the mountain a little ways. That’s usually early in the morning or when it begins to cool off late in day. In the afternoon the women will often gather in the women’s committee house (an open fale) to talk, weave, play cards, or sleep.
Church and bingo are the two big activities of the week in the village. There are two churches in the village – Catholic and Congregational (the church of the missionaries which is descended from the Puritans, if I remember correctly). There are two church services on Sunday, not including Sunday School and the Youth Group meeting after church Sunday evening. There are usually one or two other church activities during the week too, such as choir practice or the women’s fellowship. Bingo is in the church hall and is a fund raiser for the church – very well-attended!
My life in the village will always be mostly unstructured, but is probably a little more so right now because I’m still settling in and not working very aggressively on any projects yet. But this is my “routine” at this point. I wake up about 6:30 and go for a walk on the road along the ocean in the cool of the day. Then I make breakfast etc. and figure out what I’m going to do for the day. If it’s Sunday I go to church. I usually go to the Congregational Church since it reminds me of the church where I went when I was young. My Samoan family also goes there. But every now and then I go to the Catholic service to make sure I continue to get acquainted with everyone in the village. It’s really important for us to go to church since it’s such an important part of village life. On Sunday there is nothing else to do since it’s a day of rest. We come home, eat a big meal and sleep and relax until the afternoon service. In addition to not working, on Sunday there is no swimming allowed and the young people don’t play rugby or volleyball like the usually do in the afternoons.
For these first few months in the village our primary “job” is to get to know the village and the people. So what I do each day varies from visiting the primary and secondary schools, going to village meetings of the chiefs or the women’s committee, to just studying the language. Sometimes I go and visit with the women in the committee house in the afternoon. And some days I just stay at home and read or write. I usually write some each day. Lately I’ve also been reading some sample proposals from other Peace Corps projects and making phone calls to set up appointments to get information about some of the proposed projects for the village. Nearly every afternoon I sit in the open fale next to the ocean and read or write, watch the fishermen or the children playing in the sea, and watch the sunset (always spectacular!). In the evening I read, watch dvd’s, play computer games, listen to Radio Australia (like NPR), etc. The family I live with has a TV, but there’s not much to watch.
After the holidays I’ll be starting to work in earnest on funding for the Learning Centre and an environmental project along the river bank and sea shore as well as some community gardens. It’s a process.
The Bamboo Cannon
The last couple of evenings in the village I've been hearing the Samoan version of fireworks to celebrate Christmas. The “fireworks” are muffled booms – well, not so muffled if you’re up close. From my house, maybe the length of a football field away, it sounds like the noise made when fireworks are launched at a fireworks show. I went to see what was going on and saw three boys, about ten years old, having fun with fire. Here’s how they do it. Envision a stalk of dried bamboo about four to five feet long and four to six inches in diameter. Make a one-inch diameter hole in the end section, then pour in a small amount of kerosene. Fresh air is blown into the hole to activate the fumes. Then they light the gas from the top of the hole with a small flaming stick kept in the coconut husk fire nearby. Poof! Bang! And a flame shoots up a couple of feet in the air. Again, and again, with a small explosion about every five seconds. It takes some practice to make the loudest bang. It's called a "bamboo cannon" and ironically the children use it as an alternative to commerical, dangerous, fireworks which are illegal in Samoa.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Watching the Fishermen
This afternoon I’ve been watching several young men from the village fishing in the sea in front of my fale. The water inside the reef is so shallow that you can walk all the way to the reef (about ½ mile) in water only about waist deep. It’s crystal clear – like a huge swimming pool with no deep end. There are seven of them in their 20’s, bare to the waist with their traditional lavalavas tied a little shorter than usual to give them more agility in the water. Two men are holding the net – imagine a rectangle about 20 feet long and six feet wide. One is paddling in a traditional dugout outrigger canoe which is painted a bright turquoise – a brilliant contrast and compliment to the aquamarine sea. They walk along in the water looking for fish. Two of them have spears and some carry sticks. When they spot fish, they point in that direction and the men with the net begin to ease up toward them. When they are in position, the others run toward the net, beating the water with their hands and the sticks, shouting, chasing the fish toward the net. Occasionally one of the men leaps out of the water and dives forward, face down into the water, arms outstretched, scaring the fish toward the net. Then they all charge to the net trying to spear the fish or hit them with the sticks to stun them to be able to get them out of the water and into the canoe. In between, as they walk along, they sometimes push each other into the water, or throw their sticks into the air and try to catch them on the way down, just like young men everywhere. Two young boys about 10 or 12 years old float on pieces of salvaged wood a little distance away – watching, learning, When they finish fishing for the day they will divide the catch amongst themselves, and maybe share with other families depending upon the success of the day.
This morning I also watched a mother and her children walking in the water inside the reef looking for sea cucumbers, clams, or other shell fish. When they spotted something they would go under the water to gather it up. The boy, about 7 or 8 years old, alternately pulled along, and floated on, a white plastic bucket in which they placed their catch. When I saw them go out, I thought it would be interesting and maybe fun to go with them some time, but they were out there for about two hours in the water and the direct overhead sun beating down. It is after all, dinner, not amusement.
This morning I also watched a mother and her children walking in the water inside the reef looking for sea cucumbers, clams, or other shell fish. When they spotted something they would go under the water to gather it up. The boy, about 7 or 8 years old, alternately pulled along, and floated on, a white plastic bucket in which they placed their catch. When I saw them go out, I thought it would be interesting and maybe fun to go with them some time, but they were out there for about two hours in the water and the direct overhead sun beating down. It is after all, dinner, not amusement.
Polynesia
In Samoa (and in the rest of the South Pacific) Hawaii is not considered part of the United States. Of course they know that it is politically, but in ordinary conversation they are mutually exclusive. So I say that I’m from Hawaii and not from America (Amelika is the word for USA). It makes sense when one thinks about it. Hawaii was part of their culture and civilization long before it was part of our country. Hawaii’s culture is still very different from most of the U S of course. I think that one of the reasons that people enjoy vacationing there so much is that it’s “exotic” and feels like a foreign country in many ways, but has the benefit of being part of the U S.
All of the islands of Samoa put together (1,133 square miles) are about one-fourth of the size of the Big Island of Hawaii. The island that I live on here, Upolu, is roughly 50 miles long and 15 miles wide (about the same shape as the island of Molokai, which is about 30 miles long and about 6 miles wide).
The other major island, Savai’i, is also called the Big Island (I haven’t been there yet, but I’ll definitely go there). Samoans are convinced that Hawai’i is named for Savai’i, but historically everything I’ve read contradicts that. The Hawaiians came from the Marquesas between 300 and 1,000 CE with some later migrations from Tahiti. Samoa was settled about 3,000 years ago as part of the Polynesian migrations that began in Asia and continued throughout the Pacific. Polynesia is the term used for Pacific Islanders with similar ethnic and linguistic characteristics and close affinities to Malay people.
Samoa and Hawai’i are much alike in food, language, plants, and even the physical characteristics and society of the people. Someone in Hawai’i told me before I left to come here, that Samoa was like Hawai’i in the 1920’s or 30’s. That’s probably pretty close. Except for some of the modern conveniences like the internet, cell phones, and television.
Those same modern culture influences are some of the things challenging the country of Samoa today. The culture is still very religious, conservative, and modest. It’s difficult, especially for parents and teachers, when the children are exposed to American TV and movies, and god-knows-what on the internet. It’s not unlike some of the complaints that Islamic people have about Western countries. Religion here is kind of like that of Islamic nations. Not the theology of course, but the pervasiveness of it. It is not something that people do. It is who they are. It isn’t a place they go on Sundays, but an integral part of life everyday. Every public event includes a prayer to Atua (God). Nearly every article in the newspaper references Atua, even on the sport‘s pages. Everyday conversation and every meeting of any kind includes Atua. To eat a meal anywhere without saying “grace” is unthinkable. The country’s motto is “Samoa is founded on God.” And it clearly is. The missionaries who came in 1830 would be very pleased to know how successful they were.
All of the islands of Samoa put together (1,133 square miles) are about one-fourth of the size of the Big Island of Hawaii. The island that I live on here, Upolu, is roughly 50 miles long and 15 miles wide (about the same shape as the island of Molokai, which is about 30 miles long and about 6 miles wide).
The other major island, Savai’i, is also called the Big Island (I haven’t been there yet, but I’ll definitely go there). Samoans are convinced that Hawai’i is named for Savai’i, but historically everything I’ve read contradicts that. The Hawaiians came from the Marquesas between 300 and 1,000 CE with some later migrations from Tahiti. Samoa was settled about 3,000 years ago as part of the Polynesian migrations that began in Asia and continued throughout the Pacific. Polynesia is the term used for Pacific Islanders with similar ethnic and linguistic characteristics and close affinities to Malay people.
Samoa and Hawai’i are much alike in food, language, plants, and even the physical characteristics and society of the people. Someone in Hawai’i told me before I left to come here, that Samoa was like Hawai’i in the 1920’s or 30’s. That’s probably pretty close. Except for some of the modern conveniences like the internet, cell phones, and television.
Those same modern culture influences are some of the things challenging the country of Samoa today. The culture is still very religious, conservative, and modest. It’s difficult, especially for parents and teachers, when the children are exposed to American TV and movies, and god-knows-what on the internet. It’s not unlike some of the complaints that Islamic people have about Western countries. Religion here is kind of like that of Islamic nations. Not the theology of course, but the pervasiveness of it. It is not something that people do. It is who they are. It isn’t a place they go on Sundays, but an integral part of life everyday. Every public event includes a prayer to Atua (God). Nearly every article in the newspaper references Atua, even on the sport‘s pages. Everyday conversation and every meeting of any kind includes Atua. To eat a meal anywhere without saying “grace” is unthinkable. The country’s motto is “Samoa is founded on God.” And it clearly is. The missionaries who came in 1830 would be very pleased to know how successful they were.
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