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

Reflections from the girls ocean

Before I came to Samoa, I came upon a former Independent Study Project that inspired my studies here. The girl wrote a series of pieces that were meant to be performed orally and narrated through the eyes of a Samoan girl. This one was my favorite. I think she articulates exactly how I feel about Samoa and my interests here.

THE OCEAN by Shannon Sonenstein

In school we learned that most of the earth’s surface is made up of water. It’s funny to think of it that way because all Mr. Smith, my teacher, the pisikoa (peace corps), ever talks about, focuses on, is the land. I’ve heard the human body is like that too.

Even though I can’t see it, can’t imagine it, I’m mostly water.
Fluid.
Flowing.
Liquid and changing rather than confined to a solid.
Mold.
Role.
Form. As I’ve been trained to think.

Do you know what else I learned today? There are more women on earth than men. I told that to my sister and she laughed at me. She asked, “If there are more women, then why do we only learn about men — what they do? what they think?” And I tried to tell her that women must be like the ocean.

Deep.

Unexplored.

Fluid.

And it would make sense then that the body’s mostly water because that’s where we come from. When I think of my sisters, I think of water. Of nighttime. After supper when we gather under the pipe in the yard and bathe together. All of us sleek and shiny with water. Lavalavas clinging, scrubbing our underpants together. Sharing the water and blowing soap bubbles. Helping each other wash our long, long hair. Surrounded always by water.

That’s how I think of Samoa too. Of being nourished, washed, wiped clean by the ocean. Kissed on all sides by her waves. Protected from the rest of the world. Safe in the ocean’s womb. That’s how I feel after school when all of us girls run to the beach to cool down in our sami, our sea.
Safe.
Protected.
Rocked.
Calmed.
And surrounded . . . by my sisters.

American Samoa (in a nutshell)

My study-abroad program is actually considered to be a "Pacific Islands Studies" rather than just Samoa, so I have been island hopping a bit to American Samoa and to Fiji.

In American Samoa, the first thing I noticed was how many obese people there are. There's McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut and all the things we now see as mistakes in the States. My host family served me spam, fried egg, and mayonaise sandwiches. They have an abundance of resources as far as crops go and the Starkist tuna cannery is in Pago Pago, but they don't really tend to their crops like they do in (Western/Independent) Samoa and the fish that they catch are canned and shipped to America. I never had fresh tuna... only canned! Isn't sat vierd?

I also felt as though perhaps the people (specifically the girls) weren't as confident there. My host in American Samoa kept telling me she was trying not to eat so that she could be thinner. In (Ind.) Samoa, the big girls are like "yeah I'm fat! look at all this food I can afford to eat!"

The pollution was also a bit disheartening. In Samoa, they don't really have a very effective waste management system. When I'd help out around the house and pick up the rubbish, they'd have me dump it off the cliff into the ocean (or to roll down to their neighbor's yard). But I was picking up leaves, peels, and other decomposable things (they have plastic bags that are made of starch and decompose after 60 days). Vailima is a Samoan beer, and the only beer anyone drinks here, so the bottles are just rinsed and re-used. On the other hand, American Samoa is a US territory, and therefore has all kinds of US things imported. Packaged things with individual wrappers. Wrappers that don't decompose so readily. What a circus.

I was talking with some of the girls who were poli-sci majors at American Samoa Community College about women in politics (or lack thereof, in American Samoa's case), and in the course of our conversation, I thought it was interesting when one said she thought that most women aren't running for political office because they aren't taught that women can do the job, but that if Hillary were to win the elections in America, then perhaps that would set an example for women in American Samoa.

American Samoa also felt much less communal. On my first day of classes there, I was THREE HOURS LATE because no busses would stop. Apparently, this was because they were all full, but I was so confused because there is no such thing as a "full bus" in (independent) Samoa. Later that day, I learned (through an awkward trial and error) that "stacking" (sitting on another's lap) was inappropriate. Bah Humbug.

Cat-calling at cute boys

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P4061374, originally uploaded by mandy.mantzel.

Last weekend when I visited American Samoa, the girls I stayed with taught me how to cat-call. I was in culture shock as we were driving around in a rented pickup on a Sunday. First, because they had their own personal car. Second, because we were outside of their palagi-style air-conditioned house on a SUNDAY. But for girls to be cat-calling at boys (and not the opposite) did seem very Samoan to me.

Just when I thought I was comfortable speaking Samoan, I come to this place and find out that the youth have a language all their own. It's like a mix of English and Samoan... and yet I didn't understand it at all. "Dob-Dob Che-maaa!" is what you yell at a cute boy. Their favorite game was to make me yell it at anything with XY chromosomes within a mile radius.

They took me to the McDonalds there and when we were finished I wanted to say "I have a food baby, and my baby daddy is Ronald McDonald" in Samoan (Ua ko ma le mea'ai, ma le tama o lo'u pepe o Ronald McDonald)

I was worried it wouldn't translate, but whatever I said sure was funny.

An actual letter written to a good friend

"You're studying in Samoa!? wtf x 120"

Back when I thought I'd be studying abroad in China, I never encountered such confusion from my family and friends about my decision to do so. I don't think I would have needed to say a reason for studying in China. It would probably be obvious that it's a pertinent country to most focuses in the academia, and above all, it would probably lead to financial stability through multiple opportunities in the business world.

But now, I'm not going to China. My forms were late and I didn't get into the program (SIT has rolling admissions and they filled up too fast). I'm pretty sure I received my letter of rejection during some capstone crisis, so I just signed on the website to look at what else was open... and without even thoroughly looking through any of them I just told the lady to switch my application to the Pacific Islands program. BUT my curiosity led me to the pacific islands program before other countries for these reasons-

1. My high school/hometown has a huge Tongan/Samoan population (they're actually probably the nicest people I've ever met! just don't piss em off... they're big mofos) and it's been getting a lot of coverage for some of the traditions they've brought with immigration.


2. At the time I still thought I wanted to apply to a pacific relations graduate program (UCSD). But since then, I've kind of been leaning more towards graduate programs for political theory... we will see if this trip pushes me one way or another.

3. While this may not obviously be useful in political science, I'm interested in the gender dynamics in Samoa specifically. In some families, if there are not enough girls, a boy will dress and live with a feminine identity to help out with domestic duties. I stumbled across this article (after I signed up for the program) and it kind of sparked some questions in my mind. Specifically, if you just read the section called "The Ocean", I think it's interesting how she plays around with associating the idea of land to the masculine-- as a solid form worth exploring and discovering.... while linking water (deep and fluid) to the feminine and to Samoa-- remote and unexplored. The fact that the Pacific Islands are seen as irrelevant to international politics intrigues me. Why aren't the Pacific Islands studied more in the academia?

In short, I'm very curious about the places I'm going to go. But at the moment, I really have no objective for what I want to find. Which is a good place to be in, I guess.