String Band at Safua: A Video!

Okay. This took me all evening to upload, so that should indicate a) how cool this is to me, or b)how much I really don't want to be writing a paper in Samoan.

This is one of my favorite songs that they played, and if you will look closely, the percussion is a set of spoons, and better yet, the bass is nothing more than a string tied to a bucket and a stick. Watch the bassist move the stick back and forth to tune the string and make different pitches. Amazing. And you better believe we danced all night. And you better believe that the bass player is an excellent prospect for my Samoan husband. His little brother told me I look like a chubby version of Fergie. We're meant to be.

The Accident

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This trip has helped me realize how living in America in an "advanced civilization" has dumbed down my own common sense. Everywhere we go, we've got signs to warn us of things that we should be able to see on our own. "Caution! Hot Coffee" or "Floor slippery when wet". Well DUH. But I feel like some of these signs I've come to rely on. Sketchy deteriorating buildings are blocked off so people won't wander into them. If it's not blocked off and there's not a sign, then I assume it's fair game.

So on this day, we went to go swim with some turtles. We saw a fale (reminder: it's like a hut over water) that was empty to put our things, so we crossed a teetering log to enter it. I remember someone saying "guys, is this thing safe?" to which another responded "of course, it's no different from any other fale we've been in". And the next thing I hear is "oh... *dirty word*" and I felt the fale shift a bit, and initially I tried to hold still, but when I felt that it was coming down either way, and as I realized that if it collapsed on top of me I'd be trapped underwater (it was just shallow enough for the roof to sink just below the surface) so I tried to jump onto the dock just as it crashed.

I still think it was by sheer luck that we all made it out okay. The way that the fale crashed, it angled just so that a corner of the roof caught on a post of the dock. Had it not caught, I would have been split in half somewhere around my midsection. Half of my body was on the dock, the other half still on the floor of the fale. There was a split second where I just blanked out, and talking to my friends in the accident, they all had a few seconds they couldn't remember. The next thing I heard was "is everyone out? Is everyone okay?" from meredith, who had a huge gash on her head just behind her ear. We got everyone out, and then bags. Everyone had a nasty gash of some sort on their back, head, neck, etc. I only ended up with one on my arm and on my hand (although wounds in the pacific are nasty... and my hand is officially infected). But thinking about what COULD have happened if the fale leaned a hair in any other direction astounds me. We really were lucky. Cameras, ipods, watches, and other important things drowned, but we walked from it. Which still baffles my brain.

So, back to my point. This was one of those moments where my "adventurousness" and my naivety had a face-off. Samoans probably think we're really dumb Americans without any common sense, because looking back, we really had no business climbing into that fale. Now when I go somewhere, like climbing mountains or jumping from waterfalls, I don't just assume that it's safe because there's no sign to stop me.

Would you want to come home?

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I love Savai'i. Everyone wants me to come back and bring my friends and family! So start saving your tupe, and let's plan a reunion.

Fale sweet fale

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These are traditional open fales, but we just had the mats pulled down because it stormed the night before. But yeah... not a bad view eh?

This one's for the parents

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Look at me! I'm at church!! On Easter!!

Goooood Morning Samoa!

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Siapo making!

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Tapa making is a PROCESS. First, you tear the bark from a tree. Then you cut and peel the brown part off of it. Then you roll it so it flattens. Then you scrape it with a seashell to get rid of residue. Then you soak it. Then you scrape some more, and pound it to flatten it/widen it. Then you set it out to dry under some rocks so it doesn't shrink.

Then you put it over one of these patterns (also pre-carved by Fa'amuli) and wet it with water. Then you grind red clay against seashells. Spread it with a "paintbrush" made of more treebark. Dry it under rocks again.

Then you take the dye from the tree bark (which I did NOT make... Fa'amuli had pre-made that for us). and color in however you like. You'll have to wait to see my final product when I get home..

He was only 15

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And he was the only one with a girlfriend. What a heartbreaker.

The Peanut Gallery

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Better known as SIT Samoa Spring 08. This is my study abroad group in a nutshell.

Left to Right:
Jessica "Sita" is reading.
Rachel "Lasela" is dancing.
Michelle "Misa" is also dancing, and it's just funny because she seems to be more shy and yet the Samoans love to oil her up or pull her out in front of crowds to dance for everyone.

Meredith "Mele" is flying. She drew the picture so she gets the cool skills.
I'm underneath her. O igoa Samoa o "Meni". I'm in the ocean. Shocker, right?
Chris "Kilisi" is the token boy doing god-knows-what in the fale. Just kidding guys, he's doing hip stretches.
Laura "Lola", Andrea "Lea", Allie "Sona", and Anna "Ana" are all thinking about Hot Boys with rat-tails and mullets. But let's face it, we're in Samoa, so who isn't?
And then Kathy "Kati" and Taylor "Teila" are riding the bus while Teila in particular has made a "friend". She may or may not have been molested on her first bus ride.

And then we have our puppet-master Sieki who is pulling all of our strings. Silao is smokin, drinkin, and just doesn't give a rats.

To be or not to be? ... as though Hamlet had a choice

I had just written a super-long post that probably over-exposed my views on death since I've been in Samoa. But being on these unreliable computers, it was deleted.
It was probably for the better, as it was probably too dark and emo for parents and parents' friends and people who might still be under the impression that I'm normal and people I might run into at cocktail parties in the future...

So here's the (somewhat) abbreviated version:

-I was a "flexible vegan" before this trip
-I wanted to be culturally sensitive and live like Samoans do
-Samoans like meat
-I tell a long story about the first time I saw a pig get killed in Samoa
-Several more pigs get killed
-I am coping with "survival" tactics
-Everything I thought I valued is getting tossed around
-I am now an excellent spear-fisher
-And yet through it all... I still cry uncontrollably whenever I see or hear a pig getting killed...

Dance, Palagi! DANCE!!

Our last night in Lotofaga, our families take pride in dressing us up and throwing us in front of their friends to dance. I love to dance, but I was totally taken by surprise with the scandalous dress they gave me. They even oiled down one of my friends. Samoans mean business when it comes to dancing at Fiafias.

Another list of blunt points I'd like to make without explanation

1. I don't even flinch anymore when I see a 3 year old girl carrying a machete to school

2. I started watching my clothes more closely while they were drying on a clothesline when I caught Dad (who is at least 200 lbs heavier than me) wearing my shirt

3. Every conversation starts with "Do you like Samoa? Are you married? If you like it so much, you know you need to marry a Samoan to stay here. Would you like to marry my son?"

4. Whatever I have for lunch is usually whatever someone left on their plate the night before

5. The political issue that's caused the most heat is that they're considering switching the side of the road that people drive on from the right to the left. Seriously.

6. "I'm surprised more children don't die around here" A quote from one of my friends in the program, and I couldn't have said it better myself.

7. I haphazardly became best friends with the owner of the Salani Surf resort. How convenient! Bet you didn't see that one coming... ;) Perhaps I'll post more on that later...

The day we went to teach class in a primary school

We had all finished our lessons for the day. This is a video of my friend's 6th grade class. She said "just walk into that room with a camera and watch what happens". Now you can watch too.

I had an 8th grade class (the oldest group we could have), and I chose to talk about emotions. As silly as that sounds, it's a concept that they don't really deal with like we do in America. And it's a complicated one, at that. Like I've mentioned before, with the suicide rates going through the roof here and teenage years being an emotional rollercoaster, this seemed like an appropriate time to talk about emotions.

I said to the class "Fanoanoa. Fanoanoa means sad. Can anyone tell me something that makes them sad?" Dead silence. So I moved on. "Fiafia. Fiafia means happy. Can any one tell me something that makes you happy?" Still, dead silence. Frustrated, I moved on and said "ITA. ITA means ANGRY. Can ANYONE tell me ANYTHING that makes you ANGRY??" I waited a little longer this time, and as soon as I saw a girl even flinch, as though we were at an auction, I called on her...

...and she said "I'm angry when my mother beats me". At this point, I realized that the kids definitely understand emotions, and they understand them to a very deep and real level... but they don't use them out loud... or at least they don't use them for petty situations like getting bitten by mosquitos or dogs. I tried to use those things as examples, and the kids just didn't understand. I never witnessed any of the children in my house getting severely beaten, but several of the SIT students said that it happened a lot in their house, and that it was troubling to watch or to hear. All this is going through my head immediately after the girl's response, so finally I snap back into reality and say, "welp, who wants to sing if you're happy and you know it?"

Random Vids from Hawaii

I had uploaded these in Hawaii, but can't view them here in Samoa, so I'm just hoping that these are whatever my captions say they are:

One of the many broken boards I witnessed that day:


Another vid of Pipeline:


Another vid of pipeline (and at this point I'd like to point out that my first day on the south shore of Samoa I witnessed waves at least 3 times as big as this. Waves I didn't even know existed until recently):


And a shot of one of my roommates at the backpacker's cabin (On the porch and not surfing?? VERY RARE FOOTAGE!) :

Proof that Samoa isn't as bad as I make it sound

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Me and my sister Lani... in her backyard:)

Workin the plantation for the To'ona'i

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Learning how to husk a coconut: check.

Learning how to climb a coconut tree: in process.

My Samoan Family

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My Samoan Family has roughly 30 something people in it. Not even joking. Aiomanu and Tala had 11 kids, and most of them got married and had kids. These are two of Vasati (the 2nd eldest)'s children.

I was so grateful to have so many kids at this house, mainly because they seem to be more patient with helping me learn, and are used to being misunderstood/ having to interpret what their younger sibling (who can't speak yet) wants.

I also think that they were sucking up because they knew I was bringing gifts at the end of the week. They kept drawing me pictures of remote control cars and dolls and things-- I'm talking FLOODS of pictures. At first I thought it was cute, but then they got more explicit. The kids started drawing themselves in the pictures with the toys as though they were happily receiving these gifts from me.

Bathtub of the gods

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The nice thing about not being able to wear swimsuits in Samoa is that you never have an excuse to not get in the water. A group of us had just hiked to the top of Mt. Vaia where R.L. Stephenson was buried, and we were already drenched in sweat. So, being logical college students, we decided to wash our bodies AND our clothes. I've since learned that the easiest way to wash clothes is to just wear them in freshwater or just wear them in the shower.

It's not always sunny in Samoa

During my 2nd "drop-off", I jumped on a bus to Solosolo (because that's where I heard the experts go to surf). On my way there, I met a girl around the age of 13 who was heading to Salesa, but told me she'd help me get to where I needed to go-- and told me to follow another girl on the bus named Susannah. We kept talking and were having a great conversation, and when we got to Solosolo she ended up getting off the bus as well. Susannah was so excited and told me to come to talk to her mom, and kept insisting that I stay with them. But then Telesa kept insisting that I keep walking with her to her village.

So, for most SIT programs, "drop-offs" typically last for only a few hours at the most. But in Samoa, the busses only make their last round to Apia around 4, so anyone in the village without a car is stranded (or has to take a taxi-- which is NOT safe to do alone) and will typically just stay with a family. As it was already 3:30 and I hadn't really gotten to see much of Solosolo, I seriously started to consider staying the night out in a village, and not returning to check in with our group until the morning. But then, Telesa pulled me aside and said "you REALLY don't want to stay here in Solosolo!" And then she started speaking Samoan really fast and I didn't understand... but I caught her say "last month" and "the girl" and "her parents" and "that tree" and "in Solosolo!" while she was making gestures of someone getting hung and stabbing their side. "Pule i le ola!" she said over, and over. I had her write it down so that I could ask my AD when I returned. After attempting to decipher her gestures, I assumed that a girl got hung or something, and although I'm an adventurous kinda gal, I really didn't want to risk anything on my first night.

When I returned to meet with the group, I showed our Academic Director the note, and she said that "pule i le ola" literally means "to take control of ones own life"-- meaning suicide. This was my first brush with understanding how Samoans view life and death. In America, individualism reigns, and it's considered a good thing to be self-interested and "take control of your own life". But in Samoa, it seems like that's nearly impossible. The family structures have just seemed so rigid, that no matter what you do, you will always be defined by a larger group.

Suicide rates have been a concern in Samoa, and I was interested in that before I came. In Sia Figiel's Girl in the Moon Circle, she says that suicide in Samoa is about breaking ties with or dis-associating yourself from your family. Usually when someone dies in Samoa, their body is encased in an elaborate monument looking thing in their family's front yard. The family is constantly reminded of this person and openly meditates on them. Those who pule i le ola don't get any of this, and they are said to just be "forgotten"... but this little girl didn't seem to forget.

The time I ran into a kid from my high school... in SAMOA

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My very first day in Samoa, our academic director dropped us each off in random places around Apia and told us we had to find our way to the market. I was wandering around a village for a while, and this man was sitting down eating and asked for me to join him. I really didn't want to, but he mentioned that he had seen me get off the plane the night before (yes, Samoa is THAT small). And so we talked for a while, and he helped me get to the market. On our way there though, he kept telling me he needed petro for his car. I was trying to play dumb, but he kept pushing me and saying "Do you understand? I need YOU to help me so I can buy petro!" So finally, I gave him 5 tala, and he was like you don't have a 20? And I was thankful that I honestly DIDN'T have a 20, opened my wallet to prove it, and after that he left me alone. But he did help me find the market, so to make sense to a westerner, I was basically paying him for his assistance. But in Samoa, people are very generous, and I now see that that kind of exchange is normal-- and I keep telling myself I wasn't really getting scammed.

As soon as I found the market, I was walking around looking at things and I heard someone say "Where you from?" Already being nervous and frustrated about being in a strange new place alone (and at the time, I kept worrying that everyone was going to scam me like that guy or have other bad intentions), I walked faster and ignored him. But he followed me and finally I bluntly said "The States" and kept walking. Then he said "what part of DALLAS are you from?" I stopped dead in my tracks and flipped around... slack-jawed. He said "I went to Trinity. You were a cheerleader. I graduated in 05, played football-- #37." I was still in awe. He told me he was on his mission for LDS, and I had talked to my friend Tevita (who's Tongan/ a LDS missionary) the day I left for Samoa to see if he knew anyone there, so I wondered if he just told this guy to look out for me. But then he started naming all the different people we both knew, and I'd say a first name and he'd say their last name. This guy really went to my high school. And picked me out at the market in SAMOA!

As I write about this two weeks later, I'm still in shock.

Papase'ea Sliding Rocks (rocks!): A video

My apologies for any neck injuries from watching this. And also for the heartache caused by your jealousy of what I'm doing this semester:)

Our first To'ona'i

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Every sunday everybody gets up and goes to church, and then comes home to eat the to'ona'i. Samoa is 98% Christian and they take the Sabbath very seriously! Saturday they (now we) get up early and go to the ma'umaga (plantation) to harvest the fruit and veggies, then we go home and build the umu (a stove of rocks) and do various other things to prepare for the meal on Sunday so that the maximum amount of time to rest is available.

So since this was our first To'ona'i, Jackie (our academic director) did all the work. We ate octopus, raw tuna, and many other random things. But it was all delicious! And we had our very own child to fan us. We should get this child-fanning-your-food thing going in the states asap.

The plane to Samoa

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Yes, this is the kind of plane where each passenger is weighed and then seated accordingly.