The Ocean Breathes Salty

I found this journal entry that never got published. It wasn't published mainly because I felt that it was incomplete. I still feel that it's incomplete... or that I can't completely articulate my thoughts . But it was the thought that stuck in my head the most while I was there.

4.2.08
The Ocean Breathes Salty

I could watch the ocean for hours. Especially here. I am fascinated by the unpredictable motions of water in the South Pacific. In one way or another, the water dictates every part of my life. I am surrounded by it. I mean this both figuratively and literally (it sounds really romantic and everything, but in reality it's the truth!) For example, if I have class, or a meeting/interview at a certain time, but it's raining, then I have no choice but to wait until the rain passes. My notebooks and all my papers are molding and disintegrating from rain damage. My hair is never dry. Neither are my clothes. It seems like everything I own has been overtaken by the South Pacific Sami.

And the sami has consumed my ipod. Life goes on, but I am having serious music withdrawals , and I plan on not eating lunch for a while so I can purchase a CD player when I go to American Samoa this Thursday. I'm thankful that my friends are willing to share their music with me though, even if it is Shayne Ward on full blast at 3 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep.

The hardest part is falling asleep at night. I realized I've been using my music to mask the noises of growling dogs... noises of barking geckos... (which for a while I thought were coming from the cockroaches)... children getting their daily sasa... flying bugs around my ears... screaming room-mates... Shayne Ward/Chris Brown... but maybe all this is showing me how American I am-- afraid of natural things that happen all around. I want consistency. I want a familiar tempo. I want to believe that when I sleep, the world around me sleeps too.

Before I came here, I always thought the ocean just fills in the space that land hasn't already created. I thought that land is fixed, and that the ocean just moves around it. But then after watching the movement of the water and seeing how it tosses and turns and crushes shells and rocks into tiny grains of sand, I'm beginning to see that the ocean defines the shape of the land just as much.

I'm starting to learn that life can be likened to the ocean-- it's unpredictable. It's inconsistent. And it can be disrupting if you try to remain in a fixed and undisturbed state. Learning how to let go and move with the ebb and flow of the sami is a gradual process, but it's one that I'm beginning to take on...

The Ofa/Alofa/Aloha Spirit is Alive in Euless, TX

High school football is big in Texas. I always expected to grow out of it, but now that I'm living back home, my favorite thing to do is to go to my alma mater's pep rallies and football games. And I don't even like football.

Lately, my high school has been getting tons of press coverage on the football team(not just local, but NPR, NY Times, Wall Street Journal, CBS, and BBC! *). And it's not because of the football. It's because of the Haka, and all that it symbolizes within this school:


I remember entering middle school and wondering why my friends' parents were transferring them to other districts. You'll get... shot/pregnant/into drugs/turn gay/dye your hair/in a gang... if you go to Trinity. That's what I heard. Our rival high school made T-shirts that say "I was going to go to Trinity, but then my dad got a job." And to be fair-- yeah, there were kids that went there who got pregnant/shot/into drugs/etc... but then there's... me. And I didn't join any gangs. The point of it is that there are people of all kinds in the world who may do things differently from you, but all you can do is build a community and show each other love anyway.

When I went there, I felt at home. I wrote several editorials for the school newspaper about how much I appreciated our diversity, which is kind of funny to me now because I had no idea how unique my high school was until after I graduated and left to go to a private liberal arts college (white-ville, USA). While I was there, I became aware of and sensitive to racial discrimination. There were so many kids that were adamant about ending racial discrimination, but it felt like we were all walking on eggshells all the time, which in reality I think segregated the community even more. This period in my life just left me depressed and hopeless about ending discrimination.

I came home right before I left for Samoa and went to a pep rally to watch my little brother in the drumline. Being back on campus and watching the kids interact brought back so many memories... and I got a little emotional. Looking around the gym, it seemed like there was so much potential for discrimination, and yet the sense of community there is indescribable. Here's a clip from the pep rally:



So now that I'm back home, I love to go to the games. I don't even like football, I just like the atmosphere. It's so cool for me to see the "Dallas mom" (with her big hair, excessive makeup, etc) get high-fived by the 75 year old Tongan grandmother every time Trinity scores a touch-down.

As I was leaving the pep rally last Friday, I saw mobs of kids congregating in a circle on the mall. In my day, this almost always meant a fight was breaking out. But as I got a better view, I realized that the times, they are a-changin'... :)


Before, I generally felt that racial tensions were heightening, and that any resolution was hopeless. That even on a national level, there are some things that are just irreparable. But this school is a prime example that a little bit of ofa / alofa / aloha can go a long way.

* Here's some news clips- I've said what the haka means to me (as a Euless "insider"/Trinity alum/white girl), but several of these clips illustrate what it has done for the city of Euless/Polynesian families/Trinity HS.
NPR
bbc clip
NY Times
CBS

Branded

Out of respect for my parents, I decided to save this news until I got home. Who wants to find out their kid got a tattoo through a blog? Anyway, the rumors are true. That I'm home, and also that I got a tattoo.

Philosophy of the tattoo
I realize that it's not exactly culturally acceptable for girls to get tattoos in the States. I mean, it is... but I've known a number of guys who have said they would never date a girl with a tattoo... and a number of employers who would not hire someone with a visible tattoo. Almost as though "pure"/"untampered" skin... is preferred and praised...

Nevertheless (alwaysthemore), mine's out in the open for everyone to judge. And it's even crooked. So not only will the upper-class judge me for branding my "pure" body with something that symbolizes a marginal part of my life, but even the tattoo-elitists will look down on me because it's crooked!

To me, this tattoo does symbolize a part of my life that I don't want marginalized. My experience with the South Pacific was just a small period of my life as far as time goes, but I don't want the things I've learned to become just a part of the "me" I left in Samoa.

I like my tattoo. I like that it's visible. And visibly crooked. And I like telling the story around it.

Samoan Tattoo (Tatau) 411
Polynesians invented the Tattoo. "ta" means to strike something... hence the tapping noise when they give the tattoo. The traditional tattoo is given with razor-thin pieces of a boars tusk that are dipped in ink and then tapped into the skin of the recipient.

There's typically 4-6 people working at a time. In our situation, one person was giving the tattoo, one spreading out the skin, one wiping away the blood and excess ink, one was fanning away the flies. Traditionally, the design of the tattoo would be entirely up to the artist. As described of Queequeg's tattoos in Moby Dick,

"this tattooing had been the work of a departed prophet and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a mystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read" -Queequeg and his Coffin

The Story
After an hour-long car, ride, we finally pulled up to Sulu Ape's house. He is the best tattoo artist in all of Samoa, but as he was in American Samoa, we agreed to be tattooed by his son Peter. We entered the fale and talked for a while (not about the tattoos). Finally, we got to business, and Andrea went first. She got a big one on her outer thigh. Then was Michelle with one on her wrist... here's some footage:

(At the end he said "where you going?" to which I replied "faleuila" which literally translates to house of lightning but means the restroom.)

Then I had my turn. It's a fish. And if you ask me what it means, you probably won't get a straight-forward answer. First, because I don't know that I can even articulate it. Second, because I don't know that I'd want to.


And here's me playing it safe with my tattoo... you're supposed to keep from submerging tattoos in water immediately after getting them...


But who am I kidding, fish can't be out of water for too long...


After I had my tattoo done, I felt like a new person. I really do meditate on it everyday, and will continue to.

Interesting note: in "A Bower in the Arsacides", Ishmael has the dimensions of a whale tattooed to his arm...

What the white whale was to Ahab, has been hinted; what, at times, he was to me, as yet remains unsaid...- The Whiteness of the Whale

List of blunt points #3

1). I thought my waterbottle had a dent in it (it looked like a windshield that had been hit with a pebble) and continued to drink out of it for a few weeks. As the "dent" grew and got greener, I learned that I had been drinking the algae that was growing on the inside of my waterbottle.

2). I re-opened my already-infected hand when I fell in a pool of standing water. Did I mention that in a previous semester, they sent a girl home half-way through the course because she developed an infection that became resistant to anti-biotics?

3). Contrary to popular belief, I haven't surfed once. More on that later?

4). I've been using a sock turned inside-out as a wash-cloth since I got here... and I certainly won't elaborate on what that sock looks like now.

5). My armpits look like I've got Don King in a headlock.

A pig getting stuffed: explicit content

P3301220, originally uploaded by mandy.mantzel.

Sorry for the blunt and un-creative heading. I thought it would be courteous to people like my mother. I've been here for a while now, and I've seen many pigs killed, and I suppose that now is the time that I've been de-sensitized enough to not only take a picture of this, but to post it on the internet.

A lot of things have changed for me since I've been here.

From living here, I think my biggest shift in beliefs has been in my own conception of death and how much control I really have over my own life and the world around me. In Samoa, it doesn't seem like people avoid or fear death like we do in the States. When someone dies, the family lay touching that person... even sleeping with them. And then they bury their family members in their front yard with these HUGE and elaborate tombs. And years later the family members lay on them while they're gossiping about the neighbors. Or they lay on them and think about their deceased family member. Either way, it seems like the deceased are always remembered in daily activities.

At this point, this post looks like a huge digression. But in reality, it's these thoughts that help me make sense of the food chain and my own place in this great big world.

In the words of William Shatner,
"Life life! Live life like you're gonna die!! ... Cause you're gonna..."

The Accident

P3150860, originally uploaded by mandy.mantzel.

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.

I'm alive!

Talofa lava! I have been in Western (Independent) Samoa for about a week now in a village called Alafua where our campus (USP) is located. They just opened the campus "computer lab" (think jr. high-- waiting in line to use one of 5 computers, two of which have had the mouse stolen, and they run at ridiculously low speeds).

I have pictures to post but...
1) the computers are VERY slow... so I'm going to try to post this entry first and then try for some pictures.
2) Almost anywhere I go I have to ask permission (preferably of a Matai/chief) to take pictures. This makes sense though, as I'm sure a lot of palagi* come through taking pictures of people going about their day. Especially cause theres so many things here that you just wouldn't believe if it weren't for the pictures!

I have so much I could write about, but I'm a bit limited (due to slow computer and the fact that I've got a lot of work to do for tomorrow). So I'll do what I can. And I apologize if it's not structured in a very reader-friendly fashion. While my Samoan tongue is really improving, I'm getting worse with English:)

_________________________________________

It's hot. The showers are cold. I shower with centipedes. I have decided that sleeping with lizards is better than sleeping with centipedes.

The busses here are an unreal experience. They are brightly painted and loud music is always blaring. And I cannot describe how crowded they are. When all the seats are taken, people begin to pile in each others' laps. I've even had someone sit in my lap already. Someone handed their BABY to my friend. Unreal.

I ran into a guy that went to Trinity on the first day at the market!!!

I'm sleeping in a closed room (not an open fale). I am still at USP, though. Friday I will go stay with a family in Lotofaga (on the south side of Upolu). But because the Matai's son-in-law is a builder, they have a new house... most likely a closed house that is typically only associated with Palagi*, but we'll see.

I have been snorkeling with some of the most colorful fish I've ever seen, hiking to the top of volcanic mountains, swimming in caves, diving off waterfalls, and sliding down moss covered rocks. Did I mention I LOVE SAMOA?

Our academic director from SIT told us that if we followed the health guidelines from SIT, that we'd all starve and die. That should give you an idea about my diet.

My clothes smell worse after having washed them.

I may or may not elaborate on these things later, depending on what you guys are interested in. I haven't written anyone individually (yet), but I just wanted to tell everyone how much it means to me to receive emails, comments, and those kinds of things from you. This has been a bit of an emotional roller-coaster for me and hearing from people close to my home helps me remember who I am and where I come from.

Peace, love, and le fa'asamoa,
Mandy

*Palagi (puh-LONG-ee) is the Samoan word for white person.

Call Me Ishmael...

I like walking. A lot. If the day is short, I will just go through some familiar scenery, but my favorite kind of walk is the kind where I have to wake up early on a Saturday morning so that I can make it back before the sun sets.

I commonly hear "I saw a girl that looked just like you walking behind discount tires on I-35" Or better yet, "when I was home over the summer in Las Cruces New Mexico, I saw this girl walking down the street with her luggage-- in 107 degree weather-- that looked just like you!" (I will explain that one in another post...)

I'm frequently asked "where are you going?" To which I just shrug. Dissatisfied, they'll ask "well, where are you coming from?" and I'll just say "I'm on a walk." To me, that seems like that would be a sufficient answer.

Why walk? For health? Sure. Because it's more environmentally responsible than driving and saves gasoline money? Absolutely. But there's something else...

When I go on walks, I never really plan out where I'm going to go. I usually just follow my curiosity. I understand the old saying-- "curiosity kills the cat"--but at the same time, I also like to believe that people of this nature have 9 lives. I've got at least 5 of mine left. Okay, maybe 4. The point is, I like to explore new territory. This means I'm constantly forced to re-orient myself. I walk for the thrill of this.

Here are some other people who are talking about walking too, but prettier...

"It is a surprising and memorable, as well as valuable experience, to be lost in the woods at any time [...] In our most trivial walks, we are constantly, though unconsciously, steering like pilots by certain well-known beacons and headlands, and if we go beyond our usual course we still carry in our minds the bearing of some neighboring cape; and not till we are completely lost, or turned round-- for [s]he needs only to be turned round once with eyes shut in this world to be lost-- do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of Nature. Every person has to learn the points of compass again as often as [s]he awakes, whether from sleep or any abstraction. Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations"
-Henry David Thoreau, Walden
"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago... having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all [wo]men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. [...] Stand a person on their legs, set their feet a-going, and they will infallibly lead you to water[...] Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever."
-Herman Melville, Moby Dick
So, here is an introduction to my studies in the South Pacific.