Bats
Bats are called pe’a, which is the same word for tattoo. I like the flying pe’a better. Bats eat ripe ulu. There are many ulu trees by my house. I have realized that the ulu is ripe because there are bats flying near my house.
I was told that a bat tastes like chicken. Apparently everything in the world is compared to tasting like chicken.
Subscribe To Lillian's Adventures in Samoa
Posts
All Comments
Friday, January 8, 2010
Grants...take 2
Grants Part 2
The nice person I am working with at the JICA office wrote an email back to me about what needed to get done to further our application. I had to get a building report about the conditions of our building from a reputable outsider such as our carpenter. I told my tinā what was needed and that she had to get in touch with the family that knows the carpenter to see when he would be back in town, or to see if his son was able to do the report.
A week passed by of me asking every so often if she has seen the family yet, then one day I was told that the family I attended to’ona’i with was the family that can get in touch with the carpenter. “Score!” I though. It will happen because this family loves me. (It might be because they really want me to be a uo of their son. But no matter the reason they are always very nice to me so I am happy.)
I decided to walk over there to talk to them. While I was walking I was stopped plenty of times. (It seems as though everyone is always very curious as to my whereabouts at all times. I think it would be impossible to hide anything as everyone in a few villages surrounding me know where I am at all times!)
When I got to the house I was offered a seat, offered tea and food. I declined (I think they are all on the operation “Get Lilly Short and Round”). We talked for a bit, them wanted to know why I needed this information, and me trying to figure out the best way to answer in as much Sāmoan as possible.
Finally they went for their cell phone to get me the phone number. I was given two phone numbers. I called one and found out the carpenter was still in New Zealand. “Don’t worry” I was told. “His son might be able to help you.” I was given another phone number.
I called. Again, I was directed to another phone number. (At this point I was thrilled that I had money on my phone. It would have been very embarrassing to have no way to make all of these phone calls.) Finally with the last phone number I was given I talked to the son. I told him quickly what I needed to get done. (I only had a few tāla credit on my phone.) There was some confusion with the language barrier and he told me he would meet me in Apia a few hours later. Finally, he understood that I was in Savai’i and not going to be in Apia at the office. He said he would talk to his dad and for me to call back tomorrow.
That afternoon while I was taking my Benadryl nap from the coral, he called back to find out more details to tell his dad about. (I was very impressed as this is very unFa’aSamoan. Usually if they say they will talk to you the next day, it means that it will be in a week or so, not sooner than they said.” I was then awoken again to him telling me that his father would return from New Zealand in a week and would visit my village to finish the last report that needed to get done for a new school building.
Hopefully, this week, is an actual week, and we can move along on our grant proposal.
The nice person I am working with at the JICA office wrote an email back to me about what needed to get done to further our application. I had to get a building report about the conditions of our building from a reputable outsider such as our carpenter. I told my tinā what was needed and that she had to get in touch with the family that knows the carpenter to see when he would be back in town, or to see if his son was able to do the report.
A week passed by of me asking every so often if she has seen the family yet, then one day I was told that the family I attended to’ona’i with was the family that can get in touch with the carpenter. “Score!” I though. It will happen because this family loves me. (It might be because they really want me to be a uo of their son. But no matter the reason they are always very nice to me so I am happy.)
I decided to walk over there to talk to them. While I was walking I was stopped plenty of times. (It seems as though everyone is always very curious as to my whereabouts at all times. I think it would be impossible to hide anything as everyone in a few villages surrounding me know where I am at all times!)
When I got to the house I was offered a seat, offered tea and food. I declined (I think they are all on the operation “Get Lilly Short and Round”). We talked for a bit, them wanted to know why I needed this information, and me trying to figure out the best way to answer in as much Sāmoan as possible.
Finally they went for their cell phone to get me the phone number. I was given two phone numbers. I called one and found out the carpenter was still in New Zealand. “Don’t worry” I was told. “His son might be able to help you.” I was given another phone number.
I called. Again, I was directed to another phone number. (At this point I was thrilled that I had money on my phone. It would have been very embarrassing to have no way to make all of these phone calls.) Finally with the last phone number I was given I talked to the son. I told him quickly what I needed to get done. (I only had a few tāla credit on my phone.) There was some confusion with the language barrier and he told me he would meet me in Apia a few hours later. Finally, he understood that I was in Savai’i and not going to be in Apia at the office. He said he would talk to his dad and for me to call back tomorrow.
That afternoon while I was taking my Benadryl nap from the coral, he called back to find out more details to tell his dad about. (I was very impressed as this is very unFa’aSamoan. Usually if they say they will talk to you the next day, it means that it will be in a week or so, not sooner than they said.” I was then awoken again to him telling me that his father would return from New Zealand in a week and would visit my village to finish the last report that needed to get done for a new school building.
Hopefully, this week, is an actual week, and we can move along on our grant proposal.
coral
Coral =Bad time
I learned firsthand that some coral is not good. I went to the sami with some of the people in my village. If everyone is in the sami and it is not a small group, you need to go swimming with everything you have, your i’e, shorts, shirt, even everyone went with their shoes. If anyone had ever swam with a skirt before and knows how uncomfortable that can be, it is the same thing with swimming with an i’a.
There were a few dozen people in the ocean swimming, playing volleyball and rugby in the water. Everyone was having a great time and all the children around me were pinching me under water then saying “malie!” (shark).
All of a sudden the wave pushed me against the ‘amu (coral). My leg began to burn in pain worse than I thought possible. I knew I had to get out of the water, but my leg did not want to move at all. I tried to explain to a few of the others what had happened and they kept telling me how I was okay and I should stay.
I slowly left the water climbing the rocks nearby carefully as they were slippery from the slime that grows atop them from the ocean water. My leg was red with rashes and I had a few marks that looked like it was a bug bite.
I headed home, and showed the mark to my parents. They said that it was the yellow coral and that it has hurt them a few times as well. I hopped in the shower and went to bed with some bendryl. I spend the rest of the day laying in bed in bed in pain. I must really be a baby for not being able to deal with a little coral sting.
I left my room a few hours later for the faleuila and was stopped to eat some food. I ate my palusami and talo and was told that dinner would be ready soon. I don’t know how I am going to get used to so many meals on one day. I said that I was still not feeling well and going back to bed.
The next day when I awoke the pain was gone. The memory of where the evil coral was in the ocean remains, and my family reminded me to only swim by the sandy beach, not by the rocks so I don’t have this experience again.
I learned firsthand that some coral is not good. I went to the sami with some of the people in my village. If everyone is in the sami and it is not a small group, you need to go swimming with everything you have, your i’e, shorts, shirt, even everyone went with their shoes. If anyone had ever swam with a skirt before and knows how uncomfortable that can be, it is the same thing with swimming with an i’a.
There were a few dozen people in the ocean swimming, playing volleyball and rugby in the water. Everyone was having a great time and all the children around me were pinching me under water then saying “malie!” (shark).
All of a sudden the wave pushed me against the ‘amu (coral). My leg began to burn in pain worse than I thought possible. I knew I had to get out of the water, but my leg did not want to move at all. I tried to explain to a few of the others what had happened and they kept telling me how I was okay and I should stay.
I slowly left the water climbing the rocks nearby carefully as they were slippery from the slime that grows atop them from the ocean water. My leg was red with rashes and I had a few marks that looked like it was a bug bite.
I headed home, and showed the mark to my parents. They said that it was the yellow coral and that it has hurt them a few times as well. I hopped in the shower and went to bed with some bendryl. I spend the rest of the day laying in bed in bed in pain. I must really be a baby for not being able to deal with a little coral sting.
I left my room a few hours later for the faleuila and was stopped to eat some food. I ate my palusami and talo and was told that dinner would be ready soon. I don’t know how I am going to get used to so many meals on one day. I said that I was still not feeling well and going back to bed.
The next day when I awoke the pain was gone. The memory of where the evil coral was in the ocean remains, and my family reminded me to only swim by the sandy beach, not by the rocks so I don’t have this experience again.
coral
Coral =Bad time
I learned firsthand that some coral is not good. I went to the sami with some of the people in my village. If everyone is in the sami and it is not a small group, you need to go swimming with everything you have, your i’e, shorts, shirt, even everyone went with their shoes. If anyone had ever swam with a skirt before and knows how uncomfortable that can be, it is the same thing with swimming with an i’a.
There were a few dozen people in the ocean swimming, playing volleyball and rugby in the water. Everyone was having a great time and all the children around me were pinching me under water then saying “malie!” (shark).
All of a sudden the wave pushed me against the ‘amu (coral). My leg began to burn in pain worse than I thought possible. I knew I had to get out of the water, but my leg did not want to move at all. I tried to explain to a few of the others what had happened and they kept telling me how I was okay and I should stay.
I slowly left the water climbing the rocks nearby carefully as they were slippery from the slime that grows atop them from the ocean water. My leg was red with rashes and I had a few marks that looked like it was a bug bite.
I headed home, and showed the mark to my parents. They said that it was the yellow coral and that it has hurt them a few times as well. I hopped in the shower and went to bed with some bendryl. I spend the rest of the day laying in bed in bed in pain. I must really be a baby for not being able to deal with a little coral sting.
I left my room a few hours later for the faleuila and was stopped to eat some food. I ate my palusami and talo and was told that dinner would be ready soon. I don’t know how I am going to get used to so many meals on one day. I said that I was still not feeling well and going back to bed.
The next day when I awoke the pain was gone. The memory of where the evil coral was in the ocean remains, and my family reminded me to only swim by the sandy beach, not by the rocks so I don’t have this experience again.
I learned firsthand that some coral is not good. I went to the sami with some of the people in my village. If everyone is in the sami and it is not a small group, you need to go swimming with everything you have, your i’e, shorts, shirt, even everyone went with their shoes. If anyone had ever swam with a skirt before and knows how uncomfortable that can be, it is the same thing with swimming with an i’a.
There were a few dozen people in the ocean swimming, playing volleyball and rugby in the water. Everyone was having a great time and all the children around me were pinching me under water then saying “malie!” (shark).
All of a sudden the wave pushed me against the ‘amu (coral). My leg began to burn in pain worse than I thought possible. I knew I had to get out of the water, but my leg did not want to move at all. I tried to explain to a few of the others what had happened and they kept telling me how I was okay and I should stay.
I slowly left the water climbing the rocks nearby carefully as they were slippery from the slime that grows atop them from the ocean water. My leg was red with rashes and I had a few marks that looked like it was a bug bite.
I headed home, and showed the mark to my parents. They said that it was the yellow coral and that it has hurt them a few times as well. I hopped in the shower and went to bed with some bendryl. I spend the rest of the day laying in bed in bed in pain. I must really be a baby for not being able to deal with a little coral sting.
I left my room a few hours later for the faleuila and was stopped to eat some food. I ate my palusami and talo and was told that dinner would be ready soon. I don’t know how I am going to get used to so many meals on one day. I said that I was still not feeling well and going back to bed.
The next day when I awoke the pain was gone. The memory of where the evil coral was in the ocean remains, and my family reminded me to only swim by the sandy beach, not by the rocks so I don’t have this experience again.
Tragedy Part 2
Tragedy Part 2
The day after the woman was hit by the car I was awoken a little after five to a Matai screaming in the village (this is how the people in my village communicate with one another). This screaming event felt like it was happening right outside my window as about 30 feet away is where the Matai’s meet. I was planning on going into the city that day anyway to celebrate Ali’s birthday and get my much awaited mail.
The previous day I inquired about the first bus and I was told it would be at 6:00. (Quite a few of us where meeting so I wanted to make sure I had some time to go online and put up these blogs that I somehow find time to write. I usually have to pretend I’m sleeping in my room for longer than normal in order to write.) So naturally I went outside to wait for it at 5:40. While I was waiting for the bus my many friends in the village were trying to get me to come to church with them. I politely refused as I had a mission to attend a Peace Corps sister’s aso fanau. (You can never say friend as then they think you are dating this person.) So I stood there by the road watching the Methodist Church service in front of me and the Matai meeting to the right of me.
It was extremely interesting to watch. At the church after they sang beautifully, they were praying for 20 minutes (I timed them). While at the Matai meeting I noticed there were 2 pickup trucks and a big taxi van, which I presumed to be from the Matai’s of the man who drove the car that hit the woman. They were displaying fine mats and they were presented.
Before I could ask any questions, one of the woman in my village who was also heading to the city told me that we should go to the bus driver’s house to get on the bus. (How simple does that sound, if the bus does not show up, go to the house where one of the bus driver’s lives and make sure he is ready to leave.) We hop on the bus, I tried to sit in the front and the woman in my village told me to move to the seat in front of her. The bus left around 6:10, which was not too far off the 6:00 mark so I was quite impressed.
The engine roared and the music began to blast it’s normal dance music. We turned towards the city which was an amazing surprise. We drove around picking people up and then suddenly to my surprise, we turned around again. We passed my village again (The Matai meeting was over, but church was still in session). And headed towards where the route is really supposed to start from. We passed Elisa’s village, the bus already was full of packages and people, There were already people sitting on laps. By the time we got to the last village in my district, the woman sitting behind me told me to move so I could sit on her lap, as most little wooden benches already had 4 people to them.
I moved quickly past the man and child sitting next to me and sat on her lap. I immediately felt the sharp bolt digging into my body. I knew it was going to be a long ride. We rode around for about ten minutes, and then people shifted so two men (sitting on each other’s laps) were sitting next to me. The woman from my village did not like this. She used her body the best she could to be a barrier from me and the men as she held the side of my body. When the bus stopped for the billionth time to get more passengers she had me move again so I was facing the window, so that way the men could only really see my back.
When there are four people to a seat, often the person on a lap next to the window faces the window. I learned that this is the most uncomfortable position, and although I no longer had a bolt slicing my body into pieces, I would have gladly accepted the bolt instead of my cramped quarters. Sitting on her lap, I had my knees pressed against the window, my feet in a little pocket of air in which I was unable to move them as there was no space because of packages and the other many people on the bus. My legs fell asleep numerous times and I could do nothing about that because there was no place I could move to. I could not find the room to let alone try to wiggle my toes let along the rest of my body.
The bus was full, with four to every seat, and there was just about no standing room. (The person who helps out the bus driver was hanging out the door.) After almost three hours of being on this bus (It is normally a little over an hour’s bus ride.) we finally reached the city. Passengers began leaving slowly as they wanted to get off at their different stores. Finally there were enough people off in which I did not have to lap sit anymore. (Of course this had to happen when there was only about five minutes left of my ride to go.)
The city was a good time, we cleaned our much needed office, celebrated the birthday with an amazing lunch (yummm…meat without bones!), paid the electric bill, and did our normal tafaoing. Finally it was time for the next to last bus. I wanted to avoid having the same situation as I had before, so I made sure to get on the bus early, and lucky enough I did not have to sit on anyone’s lap as the bus was not as crowded.
When I finally reached home, I had a normal evening where I watched some volleyball, fed the baby cow many bottles of milk, and had a talk with my tama. I asked him about the Matai meeting. The fine mats were covering people to show their shame and the family took it off those people to show they forgive them. The family was also presented money from the visiting Matais. They were invited inside which meant that they were forgiven.
When I inquired about the driver, the police did get involved and the man is in jail awaiting his trial. Some of the Matais said that Ofa, the woman, shouldn’t have been walking to church by herself as she was old. However, that woman had been walking by herself to church for 30 years (according to my dad) and had never had a problem as she did not walk on the road and walked on the side by the grass. Apparently the driver was not paying any attention and was old.
If I find out more about this situation, I will be sure to post it.
The day after the woman was hit by the car I was awoken a little after five to a Matai screaming in the village (this is how the people in my village communicate with one another). This screaming event felt like it was happening right outside my window as about 30 feet away is where the Matai’s meet. I was planning on going into the city that day anyway to celebrate Ali’s birthday and get my much awaited mail.
The previous day I inquired about the first bus and I was told it would be at 6:00. (Quite a few of us where meeting so I wanted to make sure I had some time to go online and put up these blogs that I somehow find time to write. I usually have to pretend I’m sleeping in my room for longer than normal in order to write.) So naturally I went outside to wait for it at 5:40. While I was waiting for the bus my many friends in the village were trying to get me to come to church with them. I politely refused as I had a mission to attend a Peace Corps sister’s aso fanau. (You can never say friend as then they think you are dating this person.) So I stood there by the road watching the Methodist Church service in front of me and the Matai meeting to the right of me.
It was extremely interesting to watch. At the church after they sang beautifully, they were praying for 20 minutes (I timed them). While at the Matai meeting I noticed there were 2 pickup trucks and a big taxi van, which I presumed to be from the Matai’s of the man who drove the car that hit the woman. They were displaying fine mats and they were presented.
Before I could ask any questions, one of the woman in my village who was also heading to the city told me that we should go to the bus driver’s house to get on the bus. (How simple does that sound, if the bus does not show up, go to the house where one of the bus driver’s lives and make sure he is ready to leave.) We hop on the bus, I tried to sit in the front and the woman in my village told me to move to the seat in front of her. The bus left around 6:10, which was not too far off the 6:00 mark so I was quite impressed.
The engine roared and the music began to blast it’s normal dance music. We turned towards the city which was an amazing surprise. We drove around picking people up and then suddenly to my surprise, we turned around again. We passed my village again (The Matai meeting was over, but church was still in session). And headed towards where the route is really supposed to start from. We passed Elisa’s village, the bus already was full of packages and people, There were already people sitting on laps. By the time we got to the last village in my district, the woman sitting behind me told me to move so I could sit on her lap, as most little wooden benches already had 4 people to them.
I moved quickly past the man and child sitting next to me and sat on her lap. I immediately felt the sharp bolt digging into my body. I knew it was going to be a long ride. We rode around for about ten minutes, and then people shifted so two men (sitting on each other’s laps) were sitting next to me. The woman from my village did not like this. She used her body the best she could to be a barrier from me and the men as she held the side of my body. When the bus stopped for the billionth time to get more passengers she had me move again so I was facing the window, so that way the men could only really see my back.
When there are four people to a seat, often the person on a lap next to the window faces the window. I learned that this is the most uncomfortable position, and although I no longer had a bolt slicing my body into pieces, I would have gladly accepted the bolt instead of my cramped quarters. Sitting on her lap, I had my knees pressed against the window, my feet in a little pocket of air in which I was unable to move them as there was no space because of packages and the other many people on the bus. My legs fell asleep numerous times and I could do nothing about that because there was no place I could move to. I could not find the room to let alone try to wiggle my toes let along the rest of my body.
The bus was full, with four to every seat, and there was just about no standing room. (The person who helps out the bus driver was hanging out the door.) After almost three hours of being on this bus (It is normally a little over an hour’s bus ride.) we finally reached the city. Passengers began leaving slowly as they wanted to get off at their different stores. Finally there were enough people off in which I did not have to lap sit anymore. (Of course this had to happen when there was only about five minutes left of my ride to go.)
The city was a good time, we cleaned our much needed office, celebrated the birthday with an amazing lunch (yummm…meat without bones!), paid the electric bill, and did our normal tafaoing. Finally it was time for the next to last bus. I wanted to avoid having the same situation as I had before, so I made sure to get on the bus early, and lucky enough I did not have to sit on anyone’s lap as the bus was not as crowded.
When I finally reached home, I had a normal evening where I watched some volleyball, fed the baby cow many bottles of milk, and had a talk with my tama. I asked him about the Matai meeting. The fine mats were covering people to show their shame and the family took it off those people to show they forgive them. The family was also presented money from the visiting Matais. They were invited inside which meant that they were forgiven.
When I inquired about the driver, the police did get involved and the man is in jail awaiting his trial. Some of the Matais said that Ofa, the woman, shouldn’t have been walking to church by herself as she was old. However, that woman had been walking by herself to church for 30 years (according to my dad) and had never had a problem as she did not walk on the road and walked on the side by the grass. Apparently the driver was not paying any attention and was old.
If I find out more about this situation, I will be sure to post it.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Water
Who took the water?
Being in Samoa I live on an island. Wouldn’t you think because of this we would have an abundance of water, especially during the rainy season? Apparently not…
While I was living in Manunu I learned that if it rained too much they would shut off the water supply because otherwise the water would become brown from all the dirt it collected.
For the past three weeks the water is shut off for a majority of the day. It is usually turned on for about two hours during the day. Most of the people in our community do have water tanks to get the water we need. However I don’t know if I am being wasteful if I use that water for my laundry. I am not sure which water I am ever supposed to be using. It is so confusing when you are not sure which place to take the water from.
Anyway, the problem with the water comes into play with the bathroom. The water had to keep disappearing when we had guests, especially guests who felts sick and used the toilet frequently. My family solved this problem by putting a gigantic barrel in the shower and filled it up whenever the water was turned on. That way we can take buckets to the toilet tank to flush.
However, since there were too many sick people the water disappeared quickly and there was no water to shower inside. I am not Samoan enough to take outside showers. I am not sure exactly how to navigate being outside with a cloth around me showering. I decided if it got that bad I would break down and do it….but as soon as the water turned on I made sure to make a quick dash to the bathroom.
The water has been on for the past few days, but because of how unsure we are how long the water will be kept on, the barrel stays in the shower. It is difficult to shower when there is such a massive thing blocking the shower head. This causes me to still use a bucket to shower even though I am still showering indoors.
I hope the water stays on because this bucket thing is getting old….fast. It makes me feel bad for those of you who have to do it daily.
Being in Samoa I live on an island. Wouldn’t you think because of this we would have an abundance of water, especially during the rainy season? Apparently not…
While I was living in Manunu I learned that if it rained too much they would shut off the water supply because otherwise the water would become brown from all the dirt it collected.
For the past three weeks the water is shut off for a majority of the day. It is usually turned on for about two hours during the day. Most of the people in our community do have water tanks to get the water we need. However I don’t know if I am being wasteful if I use that water for my laundry. I am not sure which water I am ever supposed to be using. It is so confusing when you are not sure which place to take the water from.
Anyway, the problem with the water comes into play with the bathroom. The water had to keep disappearing when we had guests, especially guests who felts sick and used the toilet frequently. My family solved this problem by putting a gigantic barrel in the shower and filled it up whenever the water was turned on. That way we can take buckets to the toilet tank to flush.
However, since there were too many sick people the water disappeared quickly and there was no water to shower inside. I am not Samoan enough to take outside showers. I am not sure exactly how to navigate being outside with a cloth around me showering. I decided if it got that bad I would break down and do it….but as soon as the water turned on I made sure to make a quick dash to the bathroom.
The water has been on for the past few days, but because of how unsure we are how long the water will be kept on, the barrel stays in the shower. It is difficult to shower when there is such a massive thing blocking the shower head. This causes me to still use a bucket to shower even though I am still showering indoors.
I hope the water stays on because this bucket thing is getting old….fast. It makes me feel bad for those of you who have to do it daily.
Tradegy at Church
Tragedy at Church
This morning I went to church ready for another normal Sunday. I headed there after the first bell rang. I was talking with some of the adults in my community when all of a sudden we heard a loud sound. We looked down the road towards Foailalo and saw a woman lying down in the middle of the road with a van next to her.
She was dressed in her Sunday clothes as she was heading to the Methodist church. People from all directions ran to help her. One of the people in our church drove right over towards her and loaded her in the car to take her to the hospital at Foailalo.
The service went on as normal, with a short mention of the tragedy on the first Sunday of the year. (Also another mention to me about how there are plenty of available handsome men in Foailuga for me to pick from.)
I was grabbed by the hand and taken for to’ogani at someone’s house. While we were eating we heard the church bells right. The people I was eating with went on their phone and found out the bells were for the old woman as she had just passed away.
When I got home after eating I found out from my tina that was the reason they worry about me being on my own. They do not trust Samoan drivers as many of them drive without licenses and are reckless.
It has been such a sad day. Hopefully it will turn around. My little sister told me now that she is fefe (nervous) to walk around. I hope are community grows in strength from this.
This morning I went to church ready for another normal Sunday. I headed there after the first bell rang. I was talking with some of the adults in my community when all of a sudden we heard a loud sound. We looked down the road towards Foailalo and saw a woman lying down in the middle of the road with a van next to her.
She was dressed in her Sunday clothes as she was heading to the Methodist church. People from all directions ran to help her. One of the people in our church drove right over towards her and loaded her in the car to take her to the hospital at Foailalo.
The service went on as normal, with a short mention of the tragedy on the first Sunday of the year. (Also another mention to me about how there are plenty of available handsome men in Foailuga for me to pick from.)
I was grabbed by the hand and taken for to’ogani at someone’s house. While we were eating we heard the church bells right. The people I was eating with went on their phone and found out the bells were for the old woman as she had just passed away.
When I got home after eating I found out from my tina that was the reason they worry about me being on my own. They do not trust Samoan drivers as many of them drive without licenses and are reckless.
It has been such a sad day. Hopefully it will turn around. My little sister told me now that she is fefe (nervous) to walk around. I hope are community grows in strength from this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)