New Years
Most of the people in my training group and a few others got together for New Years at Falealupo. This is where the last sunset of the year is. If you were to pick up one of the tourist guides for Samoa, it will tell you that at this location is the only place you can see the next day.
We were lucky that even though it had been raining constantly recently, and it was cloudy, the sunset was still gorgeous.
At 6:00P.M. a few of us had a countdown for the East Coast New Years. We were sad to not see the ball drop, so Rachel grabbed a coconut, and at the end of our countdown it dropped. It was a great taste of home while we were enjoying the beach. I was also a part of a screaming celebration for the Mountain Time Zone New Years.
In the evening we had a fire on the beach which was beautiful. For the New Years we had our own countdown ass we sat around the fire. It was beautiful. But since everyone has their clocks set on their own not from an atomic clock, a minute after we announced the New Year another group on the beach began screaming for the New Years.
On January first we decided to head to the Rainforest Preserve and the Canopy Walkway. We were told it would be about a 30-45 minute walk to it. After walking for well over an hour people in our group began to lose their drive to make it to our destination. (Part of the reason was that we were tricked into paying money to see a footprint of a giant from Samoan’s history.) When we were about to head back to our beach fale, a car came by and offered to give us a ride. We gladly accepted and made it to the Canopy Walkway. Sadly I made the mistake of having an open bag in the car, and my camera fell out.
We climbed up steep stairs on a tree. At the top of this gigantic tree was an amazing overlook of the rainforest. We could see far around us. It was beautiful. I would to recommend anyone coming to Savai’i to come the Canopy Walkway to see it. We also got to cross the bridge between the two old trees. The bridge is very small and only one person can go at a time. Since it had been raining, the wooden planks holding us up were slippery. It was a fun experience, even though others thought it was scary.
During the night the people at the beach resort put on a show for us with their amazing dance moves. The night concluded with us doing a fast version of our dance we did at our farewell to Manunu.
The next morning we all said our goodbyes as we knew it would be another few weeks until we saw each other again. It is amazing how much we all keep changing the longer we are here. We are all growing as people and becoming such strong individuals. I love the members of my group and are so proud to hear of all they have gone through in the less than three months I have known them.
Subscribe To Lillian's Adventures in Samoa
Posts
All Comments
Monday, January 4, 2010
Lance Armstrong
Lance Armstrong
When I was little I remember when my mother told me it is time for me to lose my training wheels. We were living in Village Greens and having a bicycle seemed like the biggest luxury for a child. You could use it to get to the pool in about five minutes, go to soccer or baseball games, fly down the hill at warped speed, or just visit the other million kids in our neighborhood. A bicycle was the way to get to our oasis.
Being the youngest out of three, I was always given hand me downs. I never thought of it is as being a bad thing, because if my sister or brother ever had anything I wanted, I knew give it a few years and it would then be mine. The first bike I remember having that wasn’t one of those little three wheelers was my brother’s black bike. It had yellow on it and I thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. My mother had tried to teach my brother to ride without training wheels and I never remember her being completely successful at the task. However, with me I learned quickly.
As time when on and I entered my teen years biking became a less “cool” thing to do and after I was given my first real bike (not a hand me down), I quit riding. Although they say riding a bicycle is something you never forget how to do, I began to forget. It was okay with me because I soon learned about the speed of the New York City Transit System, as they get you places much quicker than the bike.
When I was about to enter college my parents decided it was time for me to learn something new, like driving. I was terrified of the thought of driving at first because for some unknown reason I was convinced that cars mysteriously burst into flames when you are on the highway. It is impossible to avoid highways, which made me think that I would easily have my car combust into flames. Nevertheless, my parents convinced me that in Wyoming (where I went to University), driving was a necessity. So a week before I went to school, I got my driving license. And after one amazing year of school my parents helped me purchase my first car (In which I still owe them a lot of money….thanks mom and dad!). Quack is an amazing car who got me everywhere, and with gas being as cheap as a dollar a gallon at that point, it was easy and cheap to get places.
However, the economy began to change….and gas went up to two dollars a gallon. I thought it was pretty ridiculous that they could charge so much for it. My mother brought me up always looking for ways to save money, so I began to do that. I decided that my solution would be to buy a new bicycle, and although it cost a lot up front, I would never need to put any gas in it.
I walked to the bicycle store knowing that I would have a new bike to bring home. Luckily the mountain bike that fit me best was in my favorite color. So that afternoon I went home with my pretty yellow Trek bike. That first few weeks I fell down several times as I was relearning how to ride it. I lived on the other side of town and rode my bike over the bridge everywhere. It brought me back to the days where bike riding made me feel so carefree.
However, when I finished college I moved to the suburbs of Denver where bike riding I found hard to get around everywhere. I felt it would be impossible to ride my bike to work (probably about 80 blocks), and to the store like I used to at college. So sadly, my bike sat more in the garage. It was taken out each year for the Tour de Fat in Fort Collins, and a few more times, but not much.
Moving to Samoa we were told we were going to get issued bikes. I marveled during training at the volunteers who rode their bikes everywhere and envied how easy it looked for them. We heard stories of those who travelled around both islands and marveled at their courage and strength of doing this feat, especially in the heat! Peace Corps did not anticipate such a small group coming in and so for a few vertically challenged people like myself, we were given bikes a little too big for us. We knew we would make due as we still were thrilled of the excitement of riding around Samoa on our bikes.
The Saturday before we were to swear in we met at the office to put together bikes. Some of the current volunteers I would consider to be bike experts and they showed us what to do at the various stations to put together the bikes. The first thing I learned was how to empty the box that contained the bike without losing the pieces. (This is a big enough feat for me.) We slowly learned how to put on the handlebars, pedals, kickstand and the bell for the bike. They double checked our work as they passed our bikes to the next station. Eventually we were able to get all nineteen bikes done in the crowded office.
I was a little intimidated of my bike at first. It looked so pretty and expensive and I hoped that I would not be the first to completely my break my bike! I finally determined that a trip to Elisa was the way to go to test out my strength. She was only about four or five villages away, so I was confident I would be able to make this excursion. I quickly learned that all the running I was doing in Upolu was not getting me in the shape for bike riding as when I arrived to Elisa’s fale (after asking everyone desperately in the village which one the Pisi Koa lived in and getting several different answers, even when I was right in front of her fale) I quickly collapsed in a chair in her room. I apparently was looking of complete exhaustion as she angled her fan directly at me and made sure I was drinking plenty of water. (Our PCMO, Teuila, would be proud of how amazing my Peace Corps sister was being of my health.)
Another day I got the courage to make the trek again, and this time extended it so I would visit Max as well. This time went amazingly well as I only had to walk up one hill during the entire trek. They both still made sure I was not completely out of breath before I would return home.
Training group 82 decided that we would spend New Years at the place where we could see the last sunset in the world, Falealupo. We knew that this destination was remote and only one bus a day would arrive there. Which is how we came up with the brilliant idea that all of us in Savai’i should ride our bikes to this destination. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to see the island in as different viewpoint than our normal crowded busses.
However, one day Ali took out her bike, and after riding in the heat, decided that this was not the best idea. The people on the north shore dropped out of the plan one by one. They began to make me feel unsure about myself doing the trip as I learned that my trip would be all up and down hills, and riding my bike for a minimum of 40 minutes for 2 days was not exactly training for this feat. I talked to my host dad about this plan and he said, “You never know what you can accomplish until you try”. He felt confident that I would be able to make it without a problem and only asked for a little phone call to ensure my safely of arrival. My family in America was also nervous as I told them how long I expected the trip to be. Looking at a map I estimated it to be around 35km. I wanted it to take no more than 5 hours with sightseeing included in the time.
On December 31st I awoke early to ensure I left early. I was able to unlock our gate and be on my bicycle by 5:55 A.M. I was feeling great as I reached Elisa’s village in what felt like record time and the little hills were not effecting me yet. I passed by a few beaches that made you pay a few tala to enter and wondered what they looked like, and if I were not heading on my own beach trip I might have taken a break there. I passed Lovers Leap and the sign that was there made me wonder if you do have all the beautiful sea creatures emerging from the water there, again another place I will have to visit. I was told by Max to stop and fill up my water at the village at the end of my district as there would not be another village for a long time following. At 6:30 I reached it, not remembering the name, so of course I drove right threw.
I began to wonder how long it would be until I reached my next village as my water bottle was nearing empty and it felt like I was riding my bike with the beautiful scenery and no civilization forever! I also began to realize that how great I thought our bike making team was, we made a few defects on our bikes and my gears were not working properly. They continued to clank until I switched gears, and then in the next gear I would hear that clanking sound persist. There was no getting around the gear problem.
Finally after riding my bike for 45 minutes without cars even passing by, I reached Falelima, the next nu’u. I was told that it was only one village away from Neiafu where I would be taking a break. I figured the villages were put together like they were in my area, close together. After walking up an enormous hill and wondering when this village would ever end, I made it to the Neiafu sign.
I met up with Dana in Neiafu Tai, which was good because after two hours of riding by myself I was ready for a friend! We went for s little hike in the woods to find a beach and after an hour of walking, we realized that we had failed on our mission.
There are two ways to go from Neiafu Tai-both are uphill. We decided to go the way that had a steeper hill because it was a shorter route. We walked our bikes uphill for half an hour. It was so steep and how that it felt worse than my two hour trip up and down hill by myself. Dana had taken the hill once before and kept up with false promises that it would be right behind the next switchback. When we finally made it up to the top we enjoyed a nice break in a faleo’o.
For the next twenty minutes of our ride we barely had to pedal as it was all downhill. We rang our bells and screamed in enjoyment as we zoomed down the hill. We passed many people who laughed when they saw our enjoyment. We then reached the shoreline and had a beautiful but rough ride. The road was no longer paved and in many places was covered with a bit too much sand. We learned the hard way that sand makes you lose control of the bike and causes you to almost topple over. It did not matter to us as we were thrilled that we were almost at our destination. It had only taken about three hours. Dana and I beamed with excitement when we saw the others.
After two amazing nights with my Peace Corps friends, (and about a million cuts and bruises from the adventures of the New Years) it was time for me to return home. Dana had left prior to me and I decided to try the other route instead of going through Neiafu Tai to avoid another super sandy road.
When I was about 20 minutes into my ride I stopped to have a drink of water. Immediately my left sandal broke. I knew I was going to be walking up hill a lot and tried to fix my shoe. I think the longer you are in Samoa the better you become at quick fixes of shoes. I know I did not get it perfect, but I was able to fix my shoe enough for about a ten minute walk uphill before it would break again.
There seemed to be more people out on the roads, more cars, more bicycles and more children screaming “bye” as I passed. (For some reason when children see a white person that is what they say, no hello, just bye….strange if you ask me.) I had someone riding with me at the end of the trip which was nice. He told me about his family in my village. Even though I was completely exhausted from the previous days, it surprisingly only about three hours again.
I may not be Lance Armstrong, but I never thought I would be able to make a long trip like this. I see cyclists like him and admire their strength and determination as they do those amazing trips on their bikes. I learned from this trip, anyone can pretty much do a long biking trip if they just have determination. Maybe by the time I finish with Samoa I will become a cyclist and see the entire country by bike.
Who knows? If others can do it..why can’t I?
When I was little I remember when my mother told me it is time for me to lose my training wheels. We were living in Village Greens and having a bicycle seemed like the biggest luxury for a child. You could use it to get to the pool in about five minutes, go to soccer or baseball games, fly down the hill at warped speed, or just visit the other million kids in our neighborhood. A bicycle was the way to get to our oasis.
Being the youngest out of three, I was always given hand me downs. I never thought of it is as being a bad thing, because if my sister or brother ever had anything I wanted, I knew give it a few years and it would then be mine. The first bike I remember having that wasn’t one of those little three wheelers was my brother’s black bike. It had yellow on it and I thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. My mother had tried to teach my brother to ride without training wheels and I never remember her being completely successful at the task. However, with me I learned quickly.
As time when on and I entered my teen years biking became a less “cool” thing to do and after I was given my first real bike (not a hand me down), I quit riding. Although they say riding a bicycle is something you never forget how to do, I began to forget. It was okay with me because I soon learned about the speed of the New York City Transit System, as they get you places much quicker than the bike.
When I was about to enter college my parents decided it was time for me to learn something new, like driving. I was terrified of the thought of driving at first because for some unknown reason I was convinced that cars mysteriously burst into flames when you are on the highway. It is impossible to avoid highways, which made me think that I would easily have my car combust into flames. Nevertheless, my parents convinced me that in Wyoming (where I went to University), driving was a necessity. So a week before I went to school, I got my driving license. And after one amazing year of school my parents helped me purchase my first car (In which I still owe them a lot of money….thanks mom and dad!). Quack is an amazing car who got me everywhere, and with gas being as cheap as a dollar a gallon at that point, it was easy and cheap to get places.
However, the economy began to change….and gas went up to two dollars a gallon. I thought it was pretty ridiculous that they could charge so much for it. My mother brought me up always looking for ways to save money, so I began to do that. I decided that my solution would be to buy a new bicycle, and although it cost a lot up front, I would never need to put any gas in it.
I walked to the bicycle store knowing that I would have a new bike to bring home. Luckily the mountain bike that fit me best was in my favorite color. So that afternoon I went home with my pretty yellow Trek bike. That first few weeks I fell down several times as I was relearning how to ride it. I lived on the other side of town and rode my bike over the bridge everywhere. It brought me back to the days where bike riding made me feel so carefree.
However, when I finished college I moved to the suburbs of Denver where bike riding I found hard to get around everywhere. I felt it would be impossible to ride my bike to work (probably about 80 blocks), and to the store like I used to at college. So sadly, my bike sat more in the garage. It was taken out each year for the Tour de Fat in Fort Collins, and a few more times, but not much.
Moving to Samoa we were told we were going to get issued bikes. I marveled during training at the volunteers who rode their bikes everywhere and envied how easy it looked for them. We heard stories of those who travelled around both islands and marveled at their courage and strength of doing this feat, especially in the heat! Peace Corps did not anticipate such a small group coming in and so for a few vertically challenged people like myself, we were given bikes a little too big for us. We knew we would make due as we still were thrilled of the excitement of riding around Samoa on our bikes.
The Saturday before we were to swear in we met at the office to put together bikes. Some of the current volunteers I would consider to be bike experts and they showed us what to do at the various stations to put together the bikes. The first thing I learned was how to empty the box that contained the bike without losing the pieces. (This is a big enough feat for me.) We slowly learned how to put on the handlebars, pedals, kickstand and the bell for the bike. They double checked our work as they passed our bikes to the next station. Eventually we were able to get all nineteen bikes done in the crowded office.
I was a little intimidated of my bike at first. It looked so pretty and expensive and I hoped that I would not be the first to completely my break my bike! I finally determined that a trip to Elisa was the way to go to test out my strength. She was only about four or five villages away, so I was confident I would be able to make this excursion. I quickly learned that all the running I was doing in Upolu was not getting me in the shape for bike riding as when I arrived to Elisa’s fale (after asking everyone desperately in the village which one the Pisi Koa lived in and getting several different answers, even when I was right in front of her fale) I quickly collapsed in a chair in her room. I apparently was looking of complete exhaustion as she angled her fan directly at me and made sure I was drinking plenty of water. (Our PCMO, Teuila, would be proud of how amazing my Peace Corps sister was being of my health.)
Another day I got the courage to make the trek again, and this time extended it so I would visit Max as well. This time went amazingly well as I only had to walk up one hill during the entire trek. They both still made sure I was not completely out of breath before I would return home.
Training group 82 decided that we would spend New Years at the place where we could see the last sunset in the world, Falealupo. We knew that this destination was remote and only one bus a day would arrive there. Which is how we came up with the brilliant idea that all of us in Savai’i should ride our bikes to this destination. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to see the island in as different viewpoint than our normal crowded busses.
However, one day Ali took out her bike, and after riding in the heat, decided that this was not the best idea. The people on the north shore dropped out of the plan one by one. They began to make me feel unsure about myself doing the trip as I learned that my trip would be all up and down hills, and riding my bike for a minimum of 40 minutes for 2 days was not exactly training for this feat. I talked to my host dad about this plan and he said, “You never know what you can accomplish until you try”. He felt confident that I would be able to make it without a problem and only asked for a little phone call to ensure my safely of arrival. My family in America was also nervous as I told them how long I expected the trip to be. Looking at a map I estimated it to be around 35km. I wanted it to take no more than 5 hours with sightseeing included in the time.
On December 31st I awoke early to ensure I left early. I was able to unlock our gate and be on my bicycle by 5:55 A.M. I was feeling great as I reached Elisa’s village in what felt like record time and the little hills were not effecting me yet. I passed by a few beaches that made you pay a few tala to enter and wondered what they looked like, and if I were not heading on my own beach trip I might have taken a break there. I passed Lovers Leap and the sign that was there made me wonder if you do have all the beautiful sea creatures emerging from the water there, again another place I will have to visit. I was told by Max to stop and fill up my water at the village at the end of my district as there would not be another village for a long time following. At 6:30 I reached it, not remembering the name, so of course I drove right threw.
I began to wonder how long it would be until I reached my next village as my water bottle was nearing empty and it felt like I was riding my bike with the beautiful scenery and no civilization forever! I also began to realize that how great I thought our bike making team was, we made a few defects on our bikes and my gears were not working properly. They continued to clank until I switched gears, and then in the next gear I would hear that clanking sound persist. There was no getting around the gear problem.
Finally after riding my bike for 45 minutes without cars even passing by, I reached Falelima, the next nu’u. I was told that it was only one village away from Neiafu where I would be taking a break. I figured the villages were put together like they were in my area, close together. After walking up an enormous hill and wondering when this village would ever end, I made it to the Neiafu sign.
I met up with Dana in Neiafu Tai, which was good because after two hours of riding by myself I was ready for a friend! We went for s little hike in the woods to find a beach and after an hour of walking, we realized that we had failed on our mission.
There are two ways to go from Neiafu Tai-both are uphill. We decided to go the way that had a steeper hill because it was a shorter route. We walked our bikes uphill for half an hour. It was so steep and how that it felt worse than my two hour trip up and down hill by myself. Dana had taken the hill once before and kept up with false promises that it would be right behind the next switchback. When we finally made it up to the top we enjoyed a nice break in a faleo’o.
For the next twenty minutes of our ride we barely had to pedal as it was all downhill. We rang our bells and screamed in enjoyment as we zoomed down the hill. We passed many people who laughed when they saw our enjoyment. We then reached the shoreline and had a beautiful but rough ride. The road was no longer paved and in many places was covered with a bit too much sand. We learned the hard way that sand makes you lose control of the bike and causes you to almost topple over. It did not matter to us as we were thrilled that we were almost at our destination. It had only taken about three hours. Dana and I beamed with excitement when we saw the others.
After two amazing nights with my Peace Corps friends, (and about a million cuts and bruises from the adventures of the New Years) it was time for me to return home. Dana had left prior to me and I decided to try the other route instead of going through Neiafu Tai to avoid another super sandy road.
When I was about 20 minutes into my ride I stopped to have a drink of water. Immediately my left sandal broke. I knew I was going to be walking up hill a lot and tried to fix my shoe. I think the longer you are in Samoa the better you become at quick fixes of shoes. I know I did not get it perfect, but I was able to fix my shoe enough for about a ten minute walk uphill before it would break again.
There seemed to be more people out on the roads, more cars, more bicycles and more children screaming “bye” as I passed. (For some reason when children see a white person that is what they say, no hello, just bye….strange if you ask me.) I had someone riding with me at the end of the trip which was nice. He told me about his family in my village. Even though I was completely exhausted from the previous days, it surprisingly only about three hours again.
I may not be Lance Armstrong, but I never thought I would be able to make a long trip like this. I see cyclists like him and admire their strength and determination as they do those amazing trips on their bikes. I learned from this trip, anyone can pretty much do a long biking trip if they just have determination. Maybe by the time I finish with Samoa I will become a cyclist and see the entire country by bike.
Who knows? If others can do it..why can’t I?
Church Fun
Church!
I did it, I finally went to the last Church in my village. I saved the one without an actually physical church building for last. Being at this church it made me realize what church may have been like when the missionaries first arrived. It was held inside an open fale. All of the children sat on the fala on the floor, while they had a tented area for the adults to sit. When I arrived I began to go to the back, and someone lead my all the way to the front to be with the children.
There was a lot of singing as there was a little church band. Some of the woman began chanting aloud “Praise the lord” at the top of their lungs. They reminded me of the people that sometimes jump onto the subway cars or NYC busses screaming that and other religious expressions.
After the church we all headed down towards the end of town to the sami (ocean) where there is a vaita’ele(pool). They began to baptize a few of the people in the congregation. It was very unique because I never saw this before. It is amazing how everyone is involved whether they enter the water or not.
After the baptism I went with the faife’au to the to’ona’i. Another person visiting from American Samoa was also there. We enjoyed a delicious meal with three different soups as well as many other delicious foods. At the meal they convinced me to come back at 4 for the children’s service. (They lured me in with the thought of receiving pancakes. Trust me Samoan pancakes are so amazing they would make you attend anything to in hope that you would get them.)
I spent the afternoon relaxing as I knew there would be plenty of church in the evening. Three of the churches were meeting at 6 in the evening for a service where they will have their different choirs perform. Rumor on the auala is that one of the churches decided not to attend because they wanted to be last on the program and they were not.
I went to the falesa at 4. There was a lot of dancing and singing. It reminded me of a talent show as people came up with their requests on a piece of paper, and then they were called up to perform. The youth group did perform and they had pretty remarkable dances as well. I was asked to go to the front of the service and onto the microphone to introduce myself and tell little tidbits of information to make everyone realize how interesting of a person I am so they will feel the desire to get to know me.
The clock was quickly approaching six, and I did not want to be late to the other service. I quietly excused myself, which I knew made a scene because again I was placed in the front.
Someone saw me on the auala and offered me a ride to the Iglesia. When I stepped inside I was greeted by the different people from the three churches and asked to sit at the front. (Something I should be getting used to!)
All of the faife’au gave their sermon and the different congregations began to sing like angels. I was asked to sing with the Aso Fitu Falesa (Seventh Day Adventist) as they are the church of my family. I went to only a few of their practices as I have been busy running around meeting the different people of my village.
The rest of the congregations sang from their seats, but like normal, guess which group got to get out of their seats and stand in front of everyone to perform. I don’t know if it is because we are the smallest congregation as there are only a few families in our church. But I still think it was partly due to the fact that they wanted me in the front of the room to sing.
Church ended around 9 at night and I was pooped! I had spent around eight hours at church that day. Going to church was beginning to feel like a full time job. I can tell you that I was excited to realized that the holidays were over, as the long church services were about to come to an end.
I am beginning to see an appreciation for church more and more as it is a great way to bring the community together, but it is difficult when I come from a society where there is not as big of an emphasis put on attending.
I did it, I finally went to the last Church in my village. I saved the one without an actually physical church building for last. Being at this church it made me realize what church may have been like when the missionaries first arrived. It was held inside an open fale. All of the children sat on the fala on the floor, while they had a tented area for the adults to sit. When I arrived I began to go to the back, and someone lead my all the way to the front to be with the children.
There was a lot of singing as there was a little church band. Some of the woman began chanting aloud “Praise the lord” at the top of their lungs. They reminded me of the people that sometimes jump onto the subway cars or NYC busses screaming that and other religious expressions.
After the church we all headed down towards the end of town to the sami (ocean) where there is a vaita’ele(pool). They began to baptize a few of the people in the congregation. It was very unique because I never saw this before. It is amazing how everyone is involved whether they enter the water or not.
After the baptism I went with the faife’au to the to’ona’i. Another person visiting from American Samoa was also there. We enjoyed a delicious meal with three different soups as well as many other delicious foods. At the meal they convinced me to come back at 4 for the children’s service. (They lured me in with the thought of receiving pancakes. Trust me Samoan pancakes are so amazing they would make you attend anything to in hope that you would get them.)
I spent the afternoon relaxing as I knew there would be plenty of church in the evening. Three of the churches were meeting at 6 in the evening for a service where they will have their different choirs perform. Rumor on the auala is that one of the churches decided not to attend because they wanted to be last on the program and they were not.
I went to the falesa at 4. There was a lot of dancing and singing. It reminded me of a talent show as people came up with their requests on a piece of paper, and then they were called up to perform. The youth group did perform and they had pretty remarkable dances as well. I was asked to go to the front of the service and onto the microphone to introduce myself and tell little tidbits of information to make everyone realize how interesting of a person I am so they will feel the desire to get to know me.
The clock was quickly approaching six, and I did not want to be late to the other service. I quietly excused myself, which I knew made a scene because again I was placed in the front.
Someone saw me on the auala and offered me a ride to the Iglesia. When I stepped inside I was greeted by the different people from the three churches and asked to sit at the front. (Something I should be getting used to!)
All of the faife’au gave their sermon and the different congregations began to sing like angels. I was asked to sing with the Aso Fitu Falesa (Seventh Day Adventist) as they are the church of my family. I went to only a few of their practices as I have been busy running around meeting the different people of my village.
The rest of the congregations sang from their seats, but like normal, guess which group got to get out of their seats and stand in front of everyone to perform. I don’t know if it is because we are the smallest congregation as there are only a few families in our church. But I still think it was partly due to the fact that they wanted me in the front of the room to sing.
Church ended around 9 at night and I was pooped! I had spent around eight hours at church that day. Going to church was beginning to feel like a full time job. I can tell you that I was excited to realized that the holidays were over, as the long church services were about to come to an end.
I am beginning to see an appreciation for church more and more as it is a great way to bring the community together, but it is difficult when I come from a society where there is not as big of an emphasis put on attending.
Christmas
The best Christmas ever….
Growing up we would always have a pretty normal Christmas. Not doing much for Christmas eve, except for sometimes getting a last minute Christmas tree, (My family is notoriously known for being probably the last one to get a tree.) or doing some last minute decorating with whoever was coming in for the holiday from college or for some other reason, or better yet doing our last minute Christmas shopping. The Christmas shopping always happened with at least one person who was slacking because they did not wait to head to the crazy shopping malls of New York, so they waited until the last minute to buy something, when of course they malls were the worst. (Shopping lines of dozens of people and waiting for an hour to buy one little item is not my idea of a good time!) Last year me and my siblings hung out for hours in my sister’s bedroom putting the finishing touches on the gift for our parents as we realized that mom would not complain and ask us to return a gift that was homemade and not from the department store. We usually did things as a family nonetheless, playing cards and just spending time together.
On Christmas day we always had out little silly traditions. We would wake up our parents early in the morning, even as we grew older, my brother still continues this tradition as he anxiously awaits opening his gifts. We all stay upstairs in our pajamas while our parents go downstairs to prepare for our arrival. I remember being little and trying to grab a sneak peak of what everything looks like under the tree. Hoping to hear the silly little tunes of our musical Christmas tree lights. Dad sets up the video camera, and mom takes reins on the regular camera so they are able to act as a team to capture our every movement. The music from the radio, record player, and as we grew up and technologies advanced a cd player is turned on to a jolly Christmas song.
My brother and sister and I make sure our slippers are tightly secured as we don’t want the embarrassment of a trip or a small slip down the stairs. We line up in age order, and begin doing a silly little dance slowly down the stairs, stopping at the landing so we can “oooh and ahhh” at the sight of all the gifts under the Christmas tree. It always looked so magical, even when we had our little Charlie Brown trees that looked like our heavy ornaments were ready to take down the tree before you knew what would hit you. We then quickened our step as we knew what awaits.
My parents usually sat on the couch, or a nearby chair as they seemed to enjoy us looking like birds scavenge around to find the amazing treats that await. We pass the wrapped boxes to whoever the sharpie name says they go to. My brother used to be excited when he received a toy in his set as he was always anxious to get the elusive whole collection of something. We make a pile for my parents and beg repeatedly for them to open their present so they can see they silly things we made for them, and they always refuse and wait for us to finish. My mom always insists she is given the wrong thing, especially from my dad, and makes a point of asking him to return it, while she has a silly sad look on her face. (This is probably why my dad struggles so much with finding the ideal gift for her each year and waits for the last minute.) My dad always insists that he doesn’t need anything and we shouldn’t have wasted our money on him. (I’m sure he probably said this based upon the really ugly ties we would pick up for him on our many trips to Chinatown. Us kids were probably the cause for him not enjoying the gift giving…one too many bad ties!)
We would then head to the kitchen while dad made delicious pancakes (usually chocolate chip). We then spent the rest of the day playing with our new toys and relaxing. Sometimes we would make the trip to Yonkers to visit my aunt Ann and Uncle Guy, but we usually made the trip before the holiday, as traffic was always an issue and my mother would rush us so we would not be late. That combination made it difficult for us to travel on holidays, especially when we were young children.
Christmas day in Samoa we were told is nothing like it is in America. When we first arrived here in October all we would hear from everyone’s blasting stereo was Christmas jingles, usually mixed with a dance beat, or a random hip hop song, or something else that seemed a little off to an outsider. We all assumed that Christmas was a big holiday because of the big lead up to it.
When asking around what people did on this holiday it seemed different than our expectations. Some of the Peace Corps volunteers told me that they people in their villages did not go to church, and would spend their afternoon playing volleyball in their malae. The real holiday was on Christmas eve in which everyone went to church and a performance by the youth took place with singing, dancing and acting.
Talking too people in Foailuga, it seemed as though my village was an exception to the rule. I had heard rumor that they would be pese ma savavali (caroling) on Christmas eve put on by the Methodist Church. Since I was spending so much time with that church because of their youth group, I should be able to invite myself. Otherwise I knew that on Christmas day we would be performing our dances, and volleyball would be taking place. So as you can tell I was expecting a laid back holiday, as is the life here in Samoa. (I knew it would especially be different because I was living with a family that was a Seventh Day Adventist, so they did not celebrate this holiday.) Leading up to this day I saw maybe a dozen families with either a Christmas tree or Christmas lights strung about. My favorite was several glass ball ornaments on a little tree outside the family’s home.
We started Christmas eve evening by going to Sagone, a nearby village where my tama was helping with their Christmas program. His family is from that nu’u so he still feels very connected to his roots there. It was to be similar to our upcoming performance as the skit would be the same. Nevertheless, it was something to do so I tagged along on the outing.
My borther Iosefa (Joseph) drove us since it was already dark. We saw some of the youth group dances which were amazing. It is great to see how awesome people can choreograph their own dances. They always pick up beat fun music that just makes you happy to be around them. Then the skits started and I recognized the songs and dances that I would take place in the following day. After hour about 3, the baby was tired, and so was I (of seeing the performances). So we headed home.
As we headed to the laolao (table) to eat I heard the banging of the canoe at the Methodist Church to call everyone to go caroling. I threw the food into my mouth as quickly as I could and changed into my church white clothes. I left in such a rush that I forgot to bring a white piece of cloth to cover my head. Apparently we were to dress like the Arabs or something. I honestly do not know enough about the bible to understand the reference, especially when it was pretty much explained to me in Samoan and broken English.
In movies I have always enjoyed seeing people caroling and secretly wished I was in their shoes. It always looked so beautiful seeing people go around in the snow with their song books and singing songs that made them sound so angelic. I have never been a singer, and in fact I consider myself to be one of the worst in most situations. But the thought of caroling still seemed like the perfect way to celebrate the holidays.
I got to the church hall and everyone seemed happy that I got the information on the coconut wireless to come and join in on their festivities. I came prepared with my flashlight as I normally travel in the evenings with it as I am always nervous for tripping on the several massive holes on the road. They were quick to invite me to attend church in the morning with them. When I inquired about the time I was given several different answers. They told me answers anytime from 6 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.. The clear consistency was just go when the church bells ring.
We headed down the road to Satuiatua. I was giggling at the excitement that was to await me. It is an incredible experience being a part of a group of at least fifty people on the road all dressed in white with white things covering their heads (although I do have to admit, at one point I did get an image of the Klu Klux Klan). We got into formation. They put me in the front of one of the lines, as everyone seems to normally do. (It doesn’t seem to bother them about my lack of staying on key for singing, as they are just thrilled to have me join them in their daily experiences.) We went to a house that I assume is the faife’au (pastor)’s house. Him and his family greeted us with a prayer and money to thank us for coming by with our song. We continued down the road everyone singing the songs out of memory. Thankfully someone had the vi’iga (hymn) book for me to look on with a flashlight. I always thought reading and walking was difficult. Imagine walking, reading by flashlight, singing all in the dark. I felt so horrible for the person in front of me as I continuously was stepping on their heels.
We stopped at different houses who had their lights on and were out to greet us. They all thanked us for our angelic voices, gave a prayer, and then money of course. We went past our nu’u and onto Foailalo, the village on the other side of us. Everyone in our group was smiling and laughing the entire time. At close to midnight we headed back to the church hall.
Someone gave a speech about how amazing we did, and others reminded me to attend the morning service. I ended up getting home after midnight. (What a late night for being in Samoa.) I knew I would have to set my alarm clock otherwise awake in the morning.
I awoke bright and early in the morning and immediately heard the church bells ringing. I quickly put on my white puletasi and headed down the road to church. Some of the people that have been dancing with me took me by the hand and guided me towards the front to sit with them as I could also sing along from their vi’iga book. It was the first time I went to church on Christmas and it was a good experience. It was really nice to see how it brought the community together. Even though there are four different churches in the village, it was nice to see a gathering of well over a hundred people for this holiday.
After church I headed home for a huge delicious breakfast and a nice malolo (rest). It began to rain and everyone thought all of the games were going to be off as people do not want to be out in the rain, and for most of the day that was the case.
In the afternoon I headed out to my dance practice for the evening’s program. Me still not understanding how time works here, showed up when they told me to, and I was very late. They told me that we would be leaving for the performance at 3:30 in the afternoon so we should arrive dressed.
I headed with a few of the others to the malae to watch and play volleyball. Not playing volleyball in years has made me one of the worst players in the world. I think I constantly hit the ball with my face more than my actual arms. I knew there was not much time so I left without playing much there.
I ate quickly as I did not know how long that evening would last and when my next meal would come. I walked over to where we were supposed to meet for the day. I hung out with the people who lived there as they hung around the house….not getting ready. 4:00 came and went. 4:30 still nothing. Around 5:00 the family began taking bucket showers outside and others began to trickle in. Around 5:45 most of my group had shown up. They decorated a pickup truck and two of the girls in my group dressed in traditional clothes while 2 men also did as their protectors and they were loaded into the bed of the truck. Then the engine started.
Someone had the tin from the tin of a massive container of crackers and a stick to bang a beat on. Another group of boys had a log to do the same with. My group began singing as we marched down the road.
Growing up I loved to go to all the parades of New York City. I always begged my parents to go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and because of my mother’s need to be everywhere early, we would be able to go often since I could argue that it was on the way to Yonkers. I even enjoyed going to the little Staten Island parades as they were entertaining in their own ways. Whenever I visit a different city, if there is a parade going on, I love to attend it to see the excitement and thrill of that town. Nevertheless, out of all the places I’ve been to, Macy’s steals the cake as one of the best parades. However, the people from Macy’s should come to Samoa as they have some competition to stay on top!
The group grew in intensity as we went down our rocky road. We marched past the church and headed towards the end of town sparkling in our matching uniforms, not caring about the rain that began to pour down. If anything, the rain made my group grow in intensity. When we reached the end of our nu’u, we headed back toward the church hall where we marched in circles around the parking lot singing many songs in harmony as we have a little dance in each step. A little while later the other group followed in a traditional manner. It was amazing to see how enthusiastic every single person in the youth group was. We then awaited inside the building for the program to start.
After the traditional lotu (prayer), the groups took turns doing dances. The red group went first and they were fantastic in every move they made. They all seemed like they have been practicing for hours daily because they were completely in sync. After two dances, I was told to get ready…
The leader of our group told me to go to the front of the group, not where I have been practicing. And then the song started… and I realized that the put me in the song that I had not been practicing as they told me they were already full. I tried mimicking everyone’s moves, and at least I had everyone laughing. No one seemed to be disappointed with my amazing moves. For the next song they pressed me into standing in the front of the group again. Again, not the place I was practicing. It was okay because it seemed as though everyone enjoyed it.
While I was dancing I began to realize how some dancers felt. When people like your dance moves they either put money into a bowl or put money physically on you. Many times I would have people rearrange my hair so they can put some tala inside it. Other times I would have to stop my amazing dance moves for someone putting tala inside my shirt.
The night went on with more and more amazing dance moves. I did the boys dance, the hula, the sasa and had a growing laughter each time I made my way onto the dance floor. I did not disappoint anyone in my own point of view. We continued on with our skits and other little songs. They added a new part for me in the skit in which I had to give a banana tree to someone, and so it was a shock to learn about this during the skit. The funniest point of the night was several of the boys in the other group dressed like girls and did several dances to songs like Grease and Mama Mia and other funny songs. They also did a Backstreet Boys routine.
Afterwards the night was a success. It was about 11 at night, and I was super tired. We were thanked for our performance, sadly they did not declare a winner for our dance off. (But I knew my group would probably be it, as they had me in their group.) We were given some buttered bread and I was presented with a pie as a thank you for joining their youth group. I started to head home and asked others where they were off to, and they said they were also going home. I was excited that I did not have to worry about missing any of the after performance party as I was exhausted from the day.
I went home and headed straight to bed happy as can be that the Christmas was such a great success.
The next day I learned that the rest of my group was looking for me at night because they were having a team dinner to celebrate their wonderful performance….if only I was in touch with the Samoan ways to know when going home means actually going home.
It is such a hard thing to first understand the language and then to be able to interpret if what they say actually means what it actually literally means. We were told during our training classes that yes does not always mean yes and I understand that to an extent. But it will take some time to understand when a Samoan means what they say. Maybe by the time I actually leave I will start to understand this…but who knows!
Growing up we would always have a pretty normal Christmas. Not doing much for Christmas eve, except for sometimes getting a last minute Christmas tree, (My family is notoriously known for being probably the last one to get a tree.) or doing some last minute decorating with whoever was coming in for the holiday from college or for some other reason, or better yet doing our last minute Christmas shopping. The Christmas shopping always happened with at least one person who was slacking because they did not wait to head to the crazy shopping malls of New York, so they waited until the last minute to buy something, when of course they malls were the worst. (Shopping lines of dozens of people and waiting for an hour to buy one little item is not my idea of a good time!) Last year me and my siblings hung out for hours in my sister’s bedroom putting the finishing touches on the gift for our parents as we realized that mom would not complain and ask us to return a gift that was homemade and not from the department store. We usually did things as a family nonetheless, playing cards and just spending time together.
On Christmas day we always had out little silly traditions. We would wake up our parents early in the morning, even as we grew older, my brother still continues this tradition as he anxiously awaits opening his gifts. We all stay upstairs in our pajamas while our parents go downstairs to prepare for our arrival. I remember being little and trying to grab a sneak peak of what everything looks like under the tree. Hoping to hear the silly little tunes of our musical Christmas tree lights. Dad sets up the video camera, and mom takes reins on the regular camera so they are able to act as a team to capture our every movement. The music from the radio, record player, and as we grew up and technologies advanced a cd player is turned on to a jolly Christmas song.
My brother and sister and I make sure our slippers are tightly secured as we don’t want the embarrassment of a trip or a small slip down the stairs. We line up in age order, and begin doing a silly little dance slowly down the stairs, stopping at the landing so we can “oooh and ahhh” at the sight of all the gifts under the Christmas tree. It always looked so magical, even when we had our little Charlie Brown trees that looked like our heavy ornaments were ready to take down the tree before you knew what would hit you. We then quickened our step as we knew what awaits.
My parents usually sat on the couch, or a nearby chair as they seemed to enjoy us looking like birds scavenge around to find the amazing treats that await. We pass the wrapped boxes to whoever the sharpie name says they go to. My brother used to be excited when he received a toy in his set as he was always anxious to get the elusive whole collection of something. We make a pile for my parents and beg repeatedly for them to open their present so they can see they silly things we made for them, and they always refuse and wait for us to finish. My mom always insists she is given the wrong thing, especially from my dad, and makes a point of asking him to return it, while she has a silly sad look on her face. (This is probably why my dad struggles so much with finding the ideal gift for her each year and waits for the last minute.) My dad always insists that he doesn’t need anything and we shouldn’t have wasted our money on him. (I’m sure he probably said this based upon the really ugly ties we would pick up for him on our many trips to Chinatown. Us kids were probably the cause for him not enjoying the gift giving…one too many bad ties!)
We would then head to the kitchen while dad made delicious pancakes (usually chocolate chip). We then spent the rest of the day playing with our new toys and relaxing. Sometimes we would make the trip to Yonkers to visit my aunt Ann and Uncle Guy, but we usually made the trip before the holiday, as traffic was always an issue and my mother would rush us so we would not be late. That combination made it difficult for us to travel on holidays, especially when we were young children.
Christmas day in Samoa we were told is nothing like it is in America. When we first arrived here in October all we would hear from everyone’s blasting stereo was Christmas jingles, usually mixed with a dance beat, or a random hip hop song, or something else that seemed a little off to an outsider. We all assumed that Christmas was a big holiday because of the big lead up to it.
When asking around what people did on this holiday it seemed different than our expectations. Some of the Peace Corps volunteers told me that they people in their villages did not go to church, and would spend their afternoon playing volleyball in their malae. The real holiday was on Christmas eve in which everyone went to church and a performance by the youth took place with singing, dancing and acting.
Talking too people in Foailuga, it seemed as though my village was an exception to the rule. I had heard rumor that they would be pese ma savavali (caroling) on Christmas eve put on by the Methodist Church. Since I was spending so much time with that church because of their youth group, I should be able to invite myself. Otherwise I knew that on Christmas day we would be performing our dances, and volleyball would be taking place. So as you can tell I was expecting a laid back holiday, as is the life here in Samoa. (I knew it would especially be different because I was living with a family that was a Seventh Day Adventist, so they did not celebrate this holiday.) Leading up to this day I saw maybe a dozen families with either a Christmas tree or Christmas lights strung about. My favorite was several glass ball ornaments on a little tree outside the family’s home.
We started Christmas eve evening by going to Sagone, a nearby village where my tama was helping with their Christmas program. His family is from that nu’u so he still feels very connected to his roots there. It was to be similar to our upcoming performance as the skit would be the same. Nevertheless, it was something to do so I tagged along on the outing.
My borther Iosefa (Joseph) drove us since it was already dark. We saw some of the youth group dances which were amazing. It is great to see how awesome people can choreograph their own dances. They always pick up beat fun music that just makes you happy to be around them. Then the skits started and I recognized the songs and dances that I would take place in the following day. After hour about 3, the baby was tired, and so was I (of seeing the performances). So we headed home.
As we headed to the laolao (table) to eat I heard the banging of the canoe at the Methodist Church to call everyone to go caroling. I threw the food into my mouth as quickly as I could and changed into my church white clothes. I left in such a rush that I forgot to bring a white piece of cloth to cover my head. Apparently we were to dress like the Arabs or something. I honestly do not know enough about the bible to understand the reference, especially when it was pretty much explained to me in Samoan and broken English.
In movies I have always enjoyed seeing people caroling and secretly wished I was in their shoes. It always looked so beautiful seeing people go around in the snow with their song books and singing songs that made them sound so angelic. I have never been a singer, and in fact I consider myself to be one of the worst in most situations. But the thought of caroling still seemed like the perfect way to celebrate the holidays.
I got to the church hall and everyone seemed happy that I got the information on the coconut wireless to come and join in on their festivities. I came prepared with my flashlight as I normally travel in the evenings with it as I am always nervous for tripping on the several massive holes on the road. They were quick to invite me to attend church in the morning with them. When I inquired about the time I was given several different answers. They told me answers anytime from 6 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.. The clear consistency was just go when the church bells ring.
We headed down the road to Satuiatua. I was giggling at the excitement that was to await me. It is an incredible experience being a part of a group of at least fifty people on the road all dressed in white with white things covering their heads (although I do have to admit, at one point I did get an image of the Klu Klux Klan). We got into formation. They put me in the front of one of the lines, as everyone seems to normally do. (It doesn’t seem to bother them about my lack of staying on key for singing, as they are just thrilled to have me join them in their daily experiences.) We went to a house that I assume is the faife’au (pastor)’s house. Him and his family greeted us with a prayer and money to thank us for coming by with our song. We continued down the road everyone singing the songs out of memory. Thankfully someone had the vi’iga (hymn) book for me to look on with a flashlight. I always thought reading and walking was difficult. Imagine walking, reading by flashlight, singing all in the dark. I felt so horrible for the person in front of me as I continuously was stepping on their heels.
We stopped at different houses who had their lights on and were out to greet us. They all thanked us for our angelic voices, gave a prayer, and then money of course. We went past our nu’u and onto Foailalo, the village on the other side of us. Everyone in our group was smiling and laughing the entire time. At close to midnight we headed back to the church hall.
Someone gave a speech about how amazing we did, and others reminded me to attend the morning service. I ended up getting home after midnight. (What a late night for being in Samoa.) I knew I would have to set my alarm clock otherwise awake in the morning.
I awoke bright and early in the morning and immediately heard the church bells ringing. I quickly put on my white puletasi and headed down the road to church. Some of the people that have been dancing with me took me by the hand and guided me towards the front to sit with them as I could also sing along from their vi’iga book. It was the first time I went to church on Christmas and it was a good experience. It was really nice to see how it brought the community together. Even though there are four different churches in the village, it was nice to see a gathering of well over a hundred people for this holiday.
After church I headed home for a huge delicious breakfast and a nice malolo (rest). It began to rain and everyone thought all of the games were going to be off as people do not want to be out in the rain, and for most of the day that was the case.
In the afternoon I headed out to my dance practice for the evening’s program. Me still not understanding how time works here, showed up when they told me to, and I was very late. They told me that we would be leaving for the performance at 3:30 in the afternoon so we should arrive dressed.
I headed with a few of the others to the malae to watch and play volleyball. Not playing volleyball in years has made me one of the worst players in the world. I think I constantly hit the ball with my face more than my actual arms. I knew there was not much time so I left without playing much there.
I ate quickly as I did not know how long that evening would last and when my next meal would come. I walked over to where we were supposed to meet for the day. I hung out with the people who lived there as they hung around the house….not getting ready. 4:00 came and went. 4:30 still nothing. Around 5:00 the family began taking bucket showers outside and others began to trickle in. Around 5:45 most of my group had shown up. They decorated a pickup truck and two of the girls in my group dressed in traditional clothes while 2 men also did as their protectors and they were loaded into the bed of the truck. Then the engine started.
Someone had the tin from the tin of a massive container of crackers and a stick to bang a beat on. Another group of boys had a log to do the same with. My group began singing as we marched down the road.
Growing up I loved to go to all the parades of New York City. I always begged my parents to go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and because of my mother’s need to be everywhere early, we would be able to go often since I could argue that it was on the way to Yonkers. I even enjoyed going to the little Staten Island parades as they were entertaining in their own ways. Whenever I visit a different city, if there is a parade going on, I love to attend it to see the excitement and thrill of that town. Nevertheless, out of all the places I’ve been to, Macy’s steals the cake as one of the best parades. However, the people from Macy’s should come to Samoa as they have some competition to stay on top!
The group grew in intensity as we went down our rocky road. We marched past the church and headed towards the end of town sparkling in our matching uniforms, not caring about the rain that began to pour down. If anything, the rain made my group grow in intensity. When we reached the end of our nu’u, we headed back toward the church hall where we marched in circles around the parking lot singing many songs in harmony as we have a little dance in each step. A little while later the other group followed in a traditional manner. It was amazing to see how enthusiastic every single person in the youth group was. We then awaited inside the building for the program to start.
After the traditional lotu (prayer), the groups took turns doing dances. The red group went first and they were fantastic in every move they made. They all seemed like they have been practicing for hours daily because they were completely in sync. After two dances, I was told to get ready…
The leader of our group told me to go to the front of the group, not where I have been practicing. And then the song started… and I realized that the put me in the song that I had not been practicing as they told me they were already full. I tried mimicking everyone’s moves, and at least I had everyone laughing. No one seemed to be disappointed with my amazing moves. For the next song they pressed me into standing in the front of the group again. Again, not the place I was practicing. It was okay because it seemed as though everyone enjoyed it.
While I was dancing I began to realize how some dancers felt. When people like your dance moves they either put money into a bowl or put money physically on you. Many times I would have people rearrange my hair so they can put some tala inside it. Other times I would have to stop my amazing dance moves for someone putting tala inside my shirt.
The night went on with more and more amazing dance moves. I did the boys dance, the hula, the sasa and had a growing laughter each time I made my way onto the dance floor. I did not disappoint anyone in my own point of view. We continued on with our skits and other little songs. They added a new part for me in the skit in which I had to give a banana tree to someone, and so it was a shock to learn about this during the skit. The funniest point of the night was several of the boys in the other group dressed like girls and did several dances to songs like Grease and Mama Mia and other funny songs. They also did a Backstreet Boys routine.
Afterwards the night was a success. It was about 11 at night, and I was super tired. We were thanked for our performance, sadly they did not declare a winner for our dance off. (But I knew my group would probably be it, as they had me in their group.) We were given some buttered bread and I was presented with a pie as a thank you for joining their youth group. I started to head home and asked others where they were off to, and they said they were also going home. I was excited that I did not have to worry about missing any of the after performance party as I was exhausted from the day.
I went home and headed straight to bed happy as can be that the Christmas was such a great success.
The next day I learned that the rest of my group was looking for me at night because they were having a team dinner to celebrate their wonderful performance….if only I was in touch with the Samoan ways to know when going home means actually going home.
It is such a hard thing to first understand the language and then to be able to interpret if what they say actually means what it actually literally means. We were told during our training classes that yes does not always mean yes and I understand that to an extent. But it will take some time to understand when a Samoan means what they say. Maybe by the time I actually leave I will start to understand this…but who knows!
Grants
Grants..
Our program for the Peace Corps is a combination of the jobs that people in the Peace Corps have had prior to us coming. They decided to combine the teaching aspect with village development. We are to spend approximately 25 hours teaching English and working on school projects and about 15 hours a week doing village development projects.
For the first two months we are to get accustomed to our community and get to know people by doing little projects. School is on break for the holidays, since I guess it is summer break, although I guess you would call this the rainy season break. We have to do surveys of the people in the village and write reports about them. Our village development is not supposed to start until May so we have time to get settled in (and so that way Peace Corps can train us on the how two’s of grant writing).
So after being in Foiluga I was surprised when my tina who is also the pule (principal) of the school came to me with a packet and told me after lunch I am to finish filling out the grant application for a new School building after eating lunch. They had done a lot of the work to get the application and filling out the application form and were heading to Apia the following day to turn in the application.
I helped Muena finish filling out the forms, created a letterhead for the school, and helped her type up a report about the school building. I don’t consider myself to be a good writer, especially because growing up that was the subject I struggled the most with. But apparently on Samoan standards, I am a grade A typist.
After filling out the application, me and my uso, Sharlene, went to the school to take pictures of the state of the building to support what I just wrote about. I later put captions on the pictures so they were ready for Apia.
Apparently our team did a great job with the forms and JICA recognized that it is an unsafe school so they asked for me to write a letter myself to support what the pule was saying.
I didn’t know where to start. I had only been in the building a handful of times. Only twice during a “normal” school day. I told about my nerves of going up the cracked staircase to the row of classrooms. I explained about the holes in the walls and in the ceilings. I talked about the leaks that were sure to happen and my fear of the building’s support beams not touching the ground. The classroom’s windows were all missing and wire was in its place, and for a few windows there was no fire and only a few logs to protect the safety of the materials inside.
When we went to Salelologa to send an email with my letter, I realized that I forgot the e-mail address in my fale. I called the JICA office to find the e-mail address. I think I was expecting it to be an office like we would find in America, and was a little shocked over how Samoan it was. They told me the person I needed to talk to was not in and would be in the afternoon and she was unsure of that person’s e-mail address, so I would have to call back in the afternoon. I was used to in America being put on hold so they can give you the information needed, or at least offer a call back when they find it out.
A few hours later I called back and the person still was not in, and apparently was not coming in for the day. In American offices it seems as though people can always give you the little bit of information you are needing, such as an e-mail address. However within a few months time of bring here in Samoa, I learned it is waaaaay different. Instead I got that person’s address and hopefully my letter was transferred. I guess the only way to find out is after the holidays when the falavalava’s are over.
Our program for the Peace Corps is a combination of the jobs that people in the Peace Corps have had prior to us coming. They decided to combine the teaching aspect with village development. We are to spend approximately 25 hours teaching English and working on school projects and about 15 hours a week doing village development projects.
For the first two months we are to get accustomed to our community and get to know people by doing little projects. School is on break for the holidays, since I guess it is summer break, although I guess you would call this the rainy season break. We have to do surveys of the people in the village and write reports about them. Our village development is not supposed to start until May so we have time to get settled in (and so that way Peace Corps can train us on the how two’s of grant writing).
So after being in Foiluga I was surprised when my tina who is also the pule (principal) of the school came to me with a packet and told me after lunch I am to finish filling out the grant application for a new School building after eating lunch. They had done a lot of the work to get the application and filling out the application form and were heading to Apia the following day to turn in the application.
I helped Muena finish filling out the forms, created a letterhead for the school, and helped her type up a report about the school building. I don’t consider myself to be a good writer, especially because growing up that was the subject I struggled the most with. But apparently on Samoan standards, I am a grade A typist.
After filling out the application, me and my uso, Sharlene, went to the school to take pictures of the state of the building to support what I just wrote about. I later put captions on the pictures so they were ready for Apia.
Apparently our team did a great job with the forms and JICA recognized that it is an unsafe school so they asked for me to write a letter myself to support what the pule was saying.
I didn’t know where to start. I had only been in the building a handful of times. Only twice during a “normal” school day. I told about my nerves of going up the cracked staircase to the row of classrooms. I explained about the holes in the walls and in the ceilings. I talked about the leaks that were sure to happen and my fear of the building’s support beams not touching the ground. The classroom’s windows were all missing and wire was in its place, and for a few windows there was no fire and only a few logs to protect the safety of the materials inside.
When we went to Salelologa to send an email with my letter, I realized that I forgot the e-mail address in my fale. I called the JICA office to find the e-mail address. I think I was expecting it to be an office like we would find in America, and was a little shocked over how Samoan it was. They told me the person I needed to talk to was not in and would be in the afternoon and she was unsure of that person’s e-mail address, so I would have to call back in the afternoon. I was used to in America being put on hold so they can give you the information needed, or at least offer a call back when they find it out.
A few hours later I called back and the person still was not in, and apparently was not coming in for the day. In American offices it seems as though people can always give you the little bit of information you are needing, such as an e-mail address. However within a few months time of bring here in Samoa, I learned it is waaaaay different. Instead I got that person’s address and hopefully my letter was transferred. I guess the only way to find out is after the holidays when the falavalava’s are over.
let me in!
Locked Out
In order to get things done, sometimes you need to make the amazing trek into the city of Salelologa. Buses are supposed to go in tune with the ferry schedule which is every two hours from 4a.m until 4p.m. However there is no set schedule at all.
Lasela and I decided to meet in the bustling city to get some much needed shopping done as well as some of the work done on the internet that we promised our villages.
My tina, Moana (like ocean), had to go into the city as well. She told me that we were going to take the 7:30 bus. So at 6:30 she began calling out my name to make sure I was ready to leave right then. Thankfully I was. (My mom in America has always trained me well on a similar use of time. If we are supposed to leave at 11:00 to go somewhere, she will start complaining at 9:00 that no one is ready yet and we have to leave right away otherwise we will be late.) We walked over to a neighbor’s house to wait for the bus. She instructed the neighbor’s son to wave down the bus for us when in was passing.
About four busses passed by. Some people have particular busses they prefer to take. I don’t know if it is because they prefer a certain bus driver, or if they know something I don’t. I was talking to Max about this last week because he always takes the “Beautiful Savai’i” bus. He said it is because it is the least crowded bus usually. He thinks people do not use that bus as much because about five years ago that bus got into an accident, and Samoans never forget.
We finally got onto the bus, and thankfully it was the same time Lasela got onto her bus on the north shore of the island. When we were approaching Salelologa I began receiving text messages on my telephone from Lasela. She was locked out. The code to the building would not work for her. A local boy was keeping her company trying to befriend her, which was not the attention she was looking for in her time of need. She began calling around to avoid contact with her new “uo” to see if they somehow changed the code on her without telling first.
My tina left the bus, and I took it all the way to the wharf to go to the office. I tried to get in….and failed… and tried again. We were about to head over to the Digicel store to buy more phone credits to call the office to see what was going on because it felt like there was a deadbolt on the door. I decided to try it one last time…and it worked! I felt so bad for Lasela for being stuck outside in the heat for so long, but at least we were finally able to head into the air conditioned office!
Later that day whenever we left the office we kept having the same problem…It took us several times to get inside…when I told other people about it later, they thought it was pretty funny because apparently that problem only happens to us.
This is probably why me and Lasela are such good friends…we are both special when it comes to opening doors..
In order to get things done, sometimes you need to make the amazing trek into the city of Salelologa. Buses are supposed to go in tune with the ferry schedule which is every two hours from 4a.m until 4p.m. However there is no set schedule at all.
Lasela and I decided to meet in the bustling city to get some much needed shopping done as well as some of the work done on the internet that we promised our villages.
My tina, Moana (like ocean), had to go into the city as well. She told me that we were going to take the 7:30 bus. So at 6:30 she began calling out my name to make sure I was ready to leave right then. Thankfully I was. (My mom in America has always trained me well on a similar use of time. If we are supposed to leave at 11:00 to go somewhere, she will start complaining at 9:00 that no one is ready yet and we have to leave right away otherwise we will be late.) We walked over to a neighbor’s house to wait for the bus. She instructed the neighbor’s son to wave down the bus for us when in was passing.
About four busses passed by. Some people have particular busses they prefer to take. I don’t know if it is because they prefer a certain bus driver, or if they know something I don’t. I was talking to Max about this last week because he always takes the “Beautiful Savai’i” bus. He said it is because it is the least crowded bus usually. He thinks people do not use that bus as much because about five years ago that bus got into an accident, and Samoans never forget.
We finally got onto the bus, and thankfully it was the same time Lasela got onto her bus on the north shore of the island. When we were approaching Salelologa I began receiving text messages on my telephone from Lasela. She was locked out. The code to the building would not work for her. A local boy was keeping her company trying to befriend her, which was not the attention she was looking for in her time of need. She began calling around to avoid contact with her new “uo” to see if they somehow changed the code on her without telling first.
My tina left the bus, and I took it all the way to the wharf to go to the office. I tried to get in….and failed… and tried again. We were about to head over to the Digicel store to buy more phone credits to call the office to see what was going on because it felt like there was a deadbolt on the door. I decided to try it one last time…and it worked! I felt so bad for Lasela for being stuck outside in the heat for so long, but at least we were finally able to head into the air conditioned office!
Later that day whenever we left the office we kept having the same problem…It took us several times to get inside…when I told other people about it later, they thought it was pretty funny because apparently that problem only happens to us.
This is probably why me and Lasela are such good friends…we are both special when it comes to opening doors..
food
Eating Habits
Many people I know are vegetarians in America because of the treatment of the animals. It is a completely valid point, but I can see myself going the other way from living in Samoa.
In America I saw no problem with eating meat and would often eat it for two meals a day. It was great because you ate what you wanted and could leave the fatty stuff aside without a worry. It was easy and cheap to buy meat without the bones and you seemed to always have great quality of food.
I quickly learned here that meat is not the same. I know the animals are treated better than we do before we are about to slaughter them for a delicious meal. That makes some people want to eat them more, but not me.
How they prepare the meat grosses me out. They do not care about bones in all of the food and so when cooking anything you will run into tons of bones. For culture day when we had to prepare the moa (chicken) we had to just break the chicken into different pieces and it is all cooked bones and all. (It doesn’t matter what part of the chicken it is, because it all seems to be eaten.)
It is way too difficult to search through the meat to find something without bones and the bones bug my teeth! So I usually just stay clear of the meat. I do have my certain types that call out my name when they are at the table….but it’s really just fried chicken.
When spending time in Apia I have no problem eating meat at reputable establishments. I know that there are no bones in my hamburgers so I am pretty safe! (Also I have not have a problem with meat as a topping at Italiano’s Pizzeria.)
Back at home in the States I stood far away from i’a (fish). The smell of it always turned me off so quickly that I could never stand to be near it let alone eating it. Even when I tried being a fisherman in my days at college..my fish never got eaten. (At least by me.) With fish you do not have to worry as much about the bones. They are usually attached still to each other and it is easy to navigate my mouth around them. I learned that what they told me during my summer in Alaska holds true here as well, when fish is fresh it really is not that bad. (Why did I hate it so long growing up next to the ocean then?)
The one type of fish I will continue to stay clear of is eleni (tin fish like sardines). Whenever someone opens the can I feel the need to run into another room as quick as possible. They put the eleni over perfectly good food and ruin it for me. I have had plenty of meals ruiened at many family meals because the vegetables are coated in the juice from the eleni. (Which lead me to having a delicious fa’i[banana] meal.)
One of my goals for being out here was to learn to like tea. My tina in America is the biggest tea drinker and spending anytime with her you will learn that part of the way to her heart is getting a Lipton tea bag ready in a mug for her. I just never enjoyed the taste of tea growing up and saw no point in drinking it (especially if hot coco was around to be a substitute). Tea is offered at most meals and whenever you go to a residence to spend some time, you will quickly be offered a cup of tea.
After the first week of drinking it bitterly, I felt like Thomas the Tank Engine saying “I think I can, I think I can..”. All of a sudden I found myself enjoying it. (As long as it is not too sweet. Samoans are known for putting one or five too many spoonfuls of sugar into their tea.) I now see my mother’s enjoyment with this drink and look forward to joining her in her new kitchen in New York to have a cup with her in two years.
The one thing I am worried about is the amount of salt that Samoans use in their food. I have a massive fear that I will become like my tama in America. My dad would give any Samoan a big run for their money with how much their over salt their foods. He always says otherwise the food has no taste. I never knew anyone to have the same taste buds as him…until I came here. I really don’t want to develop a taste for salt like that. (No offense dad.)
The vegetables here taste amazing and it is great when you can go to the plantation and see them grown right in your backyard. It should be a way of life for Samoans instead of eating so much meat. Just like in America, meat is expensive. I would so much rather prefer a delicious taro instead of a piece of fatty chicken.
So in other words, long live the taro!
Many people I know are vegetarians in America because of the treatment of the animals. It is a completely valid point, but I can see myself going the other way from living in Samoa.
In America I saw no problem with eating meat and would often eat it for two meals a day. It was great because you ate what you wanted and could leave the fatty stuff aside without a worry. It was easy and cheap to buy meat without the bones and you seemed to always have great quality of food.
I quickly learned here that meat is not the same. I know the animals are treated better than we do before we are about to slaughter them for a delicious meal. That makes some people want to eat them more, but not me.
How they prepare the meat grosses me out. They do not care about bones in all of the food and so when cooking anything you will run into tons of bones. For culture day when we had to prepare the moa (chicken) we had to just break the chicken into different pieces and it is all cooked bones and all. (It doesn’t matter what part of the chicken it is, because it all seems to be eaten.)
It is way too difficult to search through the meat to find something without bones and the bones bug my teeth! So I usually just stay clear of the meat. I do have my certain types that call out my name when they are at the table….but it’s really just fried chicken.
When spending time in Apia I have no problem eating meat at reputable establishments. I know that there are no bones in my hamburgers so I am pretty safe! (Also I have not have a problem with meat as a topping at Italiano’s Pizzeria.)
Back at home in the States I stood far away from i’a (fish). The smell of it always turned me off so quickly that I could never stand to be near it let alone eating it. Even when I tried being a fisherman in my days at college..my fish never got eaten. (At least by me.) With fish you do not have to worry as much about the bones. They are usually attached still to each other and it is easy to navigate my mouth around them. I learned that what they told me during my summer in Alaska holds true here as well, when fish is fresh it really is not that bad. (Why did I hate it so long growing up next to the ocean then?)
The one type of fish I will continue to stay clear of is eleni (tin fish like sardines). Whenever someone opens the can I feel the need to run into another room as quick as possible. They put the eleni over perfectly good food and ruin it for me. I have had plenty of meals ruiened at many family meals because the vegetables are coated in the juice from the eleni. (Which lead me to having a delicious fa’i[banana] meal.)
One of my goals for being out here was to learn to like tea. My tina in America is the biggest tea drinker and spending anytime with her you will learn that part of the way to her heart is getting a Lipton tea bag ready in a mug for her. I just never enjoyed the taste of tea growing up and saw no point in drinking it (especially if hot coco was around to be a substitute). Tea is offered at most meals and whenever you go to a residence to spend some time, you will quickly be offered a cup of tea.
After the first week of drinking it bitterly, I felt like Thomas the Tank Engine saying “I think I can, I think I can..”. All of a sudden I found myself enjoying it. (As long as it is not too sweet. Samoans are known for putting one or five too many spoonfuls of sugar into their tea.) I now see my mother’s enjoyment with this drink and look forward to joining her in her new kitchen in New York to have a cup with her in two years.
The one thing I am worried about is the amount of salt that Samoans use in their food. I have a massive fear that I will become like my tama in America. My dad would give any Samoan a big run for their money with how much their over salt their foods. He always says otherwise the food has no taste. I never knew anyone to have the same taste buds as him…until I came here. I really don’t want to develop a taste for salt like that. (No offense dad.)
The vegetables here taste amazing and it is great when you can go to the plantation and see them grown right in your backyard. It should be a way of life for Samoans instead of eating so much meat. Just like in America, meat is expensive. I would so much rather prefer a delicious taro instead of a piece of fatty chicken.
So in other words, long live the taro!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)