Bees go Buzzzz...but Sometimes They Spell....

Spelling Bee
The spelling bee has been going on for over a week, so when I was offered the opportunity to go to our district spelling bee I decided to take them up on it.
There are two representatives from each school. One is to spell in English and the other is to spell in Samoan. They are given about twenty words from all of their subject areas and are to spell them correctly, getting points for each correctly spelled word.
The year 8 teacher was to bring their two students, which was easy if the year 8 teacher had a car like ours does. However, some teachers and students had to wait for the bus, hitch rides, or even take a taxi. This meant that people were showing up at different times to the event, and we started about an hour late since we had to wait for each school to arrive.
While we were waiting I greeted the teachers I knew, and spent time with the kids. I am surprised with how many students know me from all over. I just kept hearing, “Hi Lili!” for all different directions. I had my IPod, since I was originally going to be at school, and we do many sing a longs in class, so a few of us sat in the corner listening to music while singing and dancing in our chairs while we waited.
The event started like most events in Samoa, with a prayer. They then went over the rules for the competition and what to expect the following week. The students were to have 5 seconds to spell the word, a time that I thought was surprisingly fast. They then called 5 schools up to compete.
First 5 students competed in English, then the next 5 competed in Samoan. I learned quickly that spelling bees are completely different in America. First off, I felt horrible for the children, because the announcer did not always have the best pronunciation, and often dropped letters, especially at the end, which caused the students to spell the words incorrectly. Often they said a different word than what they were supposed to spell. Only once did they offer a sentence for the word to ensure the student had the correct word.
One of the announcers cut students off too quickly saying it was incorrect, while the other announcer gave them a second to resay in the correct spelling.
The words that they used are supposed to be words that come up in English class, Samoan, math, social science, and basic science. It still cracks me up when I hear the word math pluralized to become maths, along with other math terms like subtraction becoming subtractions. I never heard before coming here, “Take out your maths book and practice subtractions of three digit numbers.” Okay…well subtractions I guess can work sometimes, but maths I don’t think ever does.
To make the spelling bee even harder students had to remember to say capital letters for proper nouns, and Samoan markers such as ‘ and -. This makes spelling so confusing in the different languages.
When all ten students were finished, the second round started, and finally the third.
The event ended with ice cream and cookies for the teachers, which they shared with their students. We then got clamshells full of food to bring home to eat.
I learned that spelling bees are completely different than they are in America, and I tried to explain the differences to my year 8 teacher on the drive home. Children are given more chances here, and they are willing to repeat words, while in America it seems like they have an unlimited amount of words to use. Also, spelling bees would last a day, and not weeks.
We then discussed the meaning of the word, bee as in spelling bee. I explained that it is an in school competition for subjects like spelling, geography, math and others. (Is that correct?)
Next week the television camera are coming to film the semi final round. (Not that we have a working antenna to watch it at home.) I was told to get a new outfit made and to come back.
Maybe I will to see how it turns out…

Reading-The Road Show

Reading On the Road
I love being outside and people watching. I always have. This is why I would often sit outside to read in America. In college I would sit around in public places to study so I could be distracted by people I know. It probably isn’t the best way to retain information, but it worked for me.
I decided there is no reason to only read at home anymore. So, I am taking it on the road. Literally. I’ve been enjoying sitting under a big ulu (breadfruit) tree next to the main road (opposed to the plantation road) to read. Sometimes I have kids come by to sit around me and watch me read, something they talk to me. Other times I get invited to different houses to spend time.
It is funny because the kids see the size of my books, and they are much bigger than the picture books that I normally read to them, and I think the only large book they have seen is the bible. So they assume that I am reading the bible every day. It is really funny to explain that there are different books in the world that people read for fun.
Sitting outside on the road to read is good because it is promoting reading more and more. I have had many people come over to me to request books. It is nice to promote literacy here….now if only books were more accessable….

Lice

Lice aka fleas
A few times a week I will have someone pull me aside and check my hair for lice, what some people call fleas. Lice is a big problem in the village, and it is really interesting from an outsiders perspective to see what people do to combat the problem.
You will always find people grooming each other to check for the little nasty creatures. Some people comb them out with the lice combs, and dispose of them on a cloth (I am not sure what happens to them after than), which other pick them out and eat them. Still others take a more inventive approach.
I heard a story once about a volunteer who let her village help her with her lice problem. They sprayed a lot of the toxic bug spray in their hair, along with oranges (I think it was oranges), and wrapped it overnight. The next day, the lice were all dead.
I have had lice only once since being here (knock on wood) and I did the normal treatment we participate in America with, shampooing them out. It took a few weeks, but they finally disappeared completely.
No matter what, I always go over when a women calls me over to check my hair, because it is a comforting thought that they will help me with whatever problem I may encounter.

MyVillage

Village Growing
I set a goal for myself, in order to possibly run the half marathon for Independence Day, I would run at least that distance each week. This meant that I would begin to run further than I was used to. I added a new village to my running routine.
Now my running spans 8 villages. Eight villages where people know me, call my name out, and invite me to rest with them and have a drink of tea, or a game of volleyball. In the further villages not everyone knows me, and I still get called “palagi” a lot, but I am not letting this bother me. It just encourages me to keep running to see these people until they recognize me by name.
This may sound strange, like an attempt to become popular, but really I just want to connect with more people. It is nice to know people in your village, but it is also nice to know people elsewhere. You never know when you might need something, whether it be a drink, a bite to eat, a ride, or even a smile, and the more people I know, the better chance I have of people helping me each and every day.

Ode to Sundays

A Sunday to never forget
I love Sundays. I did not used to. I used to think they were so boring. All you do is walk to church, eat, sleep, then eat some more. I did not see the beauty in the day, because I was busy thinking of the negativity.
The longer I have been in Samoa, the more things have began to change. Sundays now are my favorite. They are a day that I really get to spend in my community, and enjoy relaxation.
Almost every Sunday after church I go to eat with a different family. We have a gigantic feast of the best food Samoa has to offer. Then, we joke around, hang out, and maybe even lounge on the floor and take naps.
This past Sunday after church I went to the bishop’s house. I love spending time with his family because they are so friendly, and really are my family. For our meal, they made sure to put dishes with my favorite food directly in front of me. Which meant, pumpkin soup, mashed pumpkin, fish, taro and other goodies. (Wow, that is all food I would never touch in America…) They always make sure I eat until I feel like I am about to explode, and with the many dishes of deliciousness, it is a task that is easy. Then since they had family visiting from Apia, we had a special treat, ice cream.
I then spent hours talking and hanging out. The girls and I alternated lounging out on the mattresses with putting on wigs and dancing to music.
I was planning to go to the neighboring village to go to the afternoon service, but after spending the time with the family, I did not want to leave. I felt so much at home, a feeling that I love because I feel all over Samoa.
So when they invited me to drive to the other side of the island, I quickly agreed. I wasn’t ready to say good bye for the day. We loaded up 11 of us into a van and headed west. It was great. We drove past all the villages I know so well, and felt like I was having a homecoming. Then, towards the area that is unfamiliar to me. It was beautiful. I fell in love with Savaii all over again. We finally arrived in Manese, the village we were to drop someone off at, exactly on the complete opposite side of the island. I saw some palagis at the beach resorts, and were happy that they had the opportunity to visit my island.
The ride was going so quickly because we sat there singing, talking and having the time of our lives. As my 9 year old friend was sitting next to me so close, that she was practically on my lap, I began to reflect on how I would have felt in this situation a year ago.
A year ago, I would not have thought the idea of a few hour car trip for no reason would be fun. I also would not be fond of the closeness of a young girl to me. I used to need my space. Now I see nothing wrong with how close we all get to one another.
It made me think of another volunteer’s story of going back to America for a visit. She was taking public transportation, and saw a seat between two women. Of course she decided to sit there. Apparently the women did not like the closeness in proximity to them, and had to stand up. How the women were feeling, is exactly how I would have felt a year ago. But now, it feels like close is the only way to be. Which is why, uncomfortable as it may be, I do enjoy the crowded busses, where we often sit four to a seat.
The sun began to set as we finished winding from the east side to the west side. I looked over at the east side, and became thrilled with where I live. Although the eastern side of Savai’i has nice beaches, but it does not come close to comparing to the sunsets on the west side. In my opinion, I live in the most beautiful place in the world.
We arrived back in our village and even though I was exhausted from the day, I could not stop beaming. I had such a fun day, that it is impossible to put into words.
Sundays are so unique and special. It is a time to not have any worries and think about all the people that love you. Like most volunteers, I feel really fortunate since I have such a large family here and in America.
When you combine my Sundays with Saturdays being spent in a similar fashion with family, I think I have the best weekends of any volunteer. They may laugh at my dedication to church and village life on the weekends but weekends aren’t about that. It is about relaxing with the people you love. Which is why I love weekends.

Free Nights

Free nights
Having a cell phone is great, I mean it puts me in contact with everyone I want to. It makes it easy to make plans both for work and socially. It also means that people I don’t want to will contact me. In the US this meant telemarketers, here it means random strangers that are looking for a pe’u (girlfriend).
I don’t know how people find out my phone number, but they do, and sometimes really need to get in touch with you….which means calling, and calling and calling again. Sometimes, they are courteous, and text several times instead.
I feel like there are certain days where the whole island decides to get in contact with me. Which means my phone does not stop ringing from texts or calls all night long. (Not enjoyable when you love sleep as much as I do.)
The promotions that the cell phone company has do not help. If you talk for 3 minutes, you get 3 free hours of talk at night (beginning at midnight). I think some men might think three hours of talk is a perfect way to find a pe’u, and that might be the cause for some of these late night calls.
At least I can always shut my phone off, to get a good night’s sleep.

Hopping Fences-Not Always the Best Idea

Fence Hopping
My family has a fence around our house. The fence is to keep out the pigs. Somehow pigs always find a way to get inside, despite how many time you reinforce the fence with different types of wired fencing. The gate opens up to allow cars inside, but the door that once used to swing so easily, now is one heavy piece of wood. It is big enough for a large vehicle to pass with ease.
On days where I ride my bike, I struggle with opening the gate a crack to allow my bike to squeeze through. However, when the gate is closed, I do not want to struggle with the rope tying the gate to the fence, so I do the only sensible thing; I hop the fence.
The fence is about waist high and I usually climb on the boulder next to the fence to give me an extra few inches of help. Some days my shorts get stuck on the wiring of the fence, other times I worry about wearing a skirt, but it never stops me from jumping over the fence.
This morning, I think I must have still been half asleep. I stood on the rock and lifted my legs and hopped over. It was like any ordinary day, but this time I neglected to see where one of the wooden posts were.
I felt a burning sensation on my cheek, but figured it was nothing from a slight incident with a piece of a stick. As I walked down our road my students began stopping me to ask me what happened. I asked what they were talking about, and they asked about me my mouth. I was completely confused as my mouth is in perfect condition. Finally I realized what they were talking about my cheek. Stupidly, I asked what was wrong, and the color of my cheeks. They replied nervously, about it being all red.
All day long people around the school kept asking me what happened, I had yet to see my face, and was confused about all of the commotion. When I told them what I did, they were all surprised that I didn’t open the gate myself. (This shows they think of me as being different than themselves, because no one usually opens gates, they usually hop over them. Something I have learned not to mind doing….although I prefer to only hop the fence near the gate, and not elsewhere unlike my sister and others.)
Finally, about nine hours after my incident with the piece of wood on the fence, I arrived back home, a place where there is a mirror. My cheek was still a dark red from the gash the wood took out of it.
Will this teach me a lesson from hopping fences, instead of opening gates, probably not. Wounds heal, and gates still are not fun to open.