The main road through the village that I walked everyday to the training fale.
There were so many things I loved about life in the village, like the daily walk to and from our training fale. The clicking of hooves as pigs and their new offspring sprinted across the road. The new foal grazing under the coconut palm. The kids, who made it seem as if saying hello to me was the highlight of their day. When the first one yelled “Malo, Nesi!” the others would start coming out of their fales, to stand by the road, ready to give me a high five and a big smile.
Someone taught young kids here to say “Bye bye, Palagi!” They don’t mean it in a negative way, it’s just the only English they know, and they want to show it off. Which means they shout it out every time they see a white person. They use it as a greeting and farewell. I taught the kids on my route to say “Good morning”. And to say “See ya!” when I was leaving. I also decided to leave a little bit of the south in my village, so if you walk down the main street, you may have some pre-schoolers shout “Ya’ll come back, hear!”
Other things drove me to frustration, and occasionally, tears. Fanning off the flies and trying to keep from melting into a puddle in the afternoon heat, while trying to figure out the logic of what seemed to me to be random patterns of vowels that make up the Samoan language. Listening to Onofia, our language teacher, patiently say the same word over and over so I could hear the proper way to pronounce the Samoan word for “noon”. All five syllables of a word that involves only one consonant. While he was patiently coaching me, I was just feeling frustrated and pissed off at myself for being such a language dunce, while longing for air-conditioning, no insects and an icy cold martini.
We left the village yesterday after a week of final cramming and language testing. On Thursday, December 9, we had an informal language assessment. We turned my village into six different simulation stations and all twenty of us gathered to demonstrate our grasp (or lack thereof, in my case) of Samoan. The PC language and training staff were each assigned to various locations and topics. For example, I walked to the faleoloa (small store) to pretend to shop – asking about products and prices and chatting with the storeowner, who was actually my first language teacher and a good friend.
On the way to the store, I was stopped by Joe, another language teacher, who was supposed to test us by asking about our plans and make other casual conversation.
I stopped by Lopati’s fale to have a pretend meal with two more favorite PC staffers. We talked about what food we like/dislike as we carried on a conversation about our families, both Samoan and American. Well, most of us did. I blanked on the first question. You want me to give you a specific number of people who live in America? No, we just want to know how many are in your family in America. A question I’ve answered correctly at least 2 dozen times. Ah, the frustration. I was able to brag (in Samoan) that I love Samoan food.
Speaking of food, my Samoan is good enough that I was able to eavesdrop on my Samoan sister the other night, bragging about how I’ll eat all things Samoan, including Tui Tui (raw sea urchin), oka (raw fish, onion, chilis and lemon juice in coconut cream), pig’s feet, limu (a type of seaweed that looks like a green blackberry) and truckloads of ulu (breadfruit).
Other simulation stations included going to Onofia’s fale (actually the open air Women’s Committee House). In real life and in the simulation Onofia is a talking chief, also called a tulafale. Status and respect are very important in Samoa, so we were practicing the formal language used to show respect in the home of a matai, talking chief or minister. I also answered questions about my village, such as where does the natural healer/medicine woman live. He was looking for specific directions, with “walk straight up this road, turn left, go over the bridge, etc.” What he got was me pointing and saying “that way”. I’m a woman of few words, in Samoan.
One of my best buddies was in the Peace Corps Office (actually our training fale) and asked me about the ferry schedule. I pointed out, in English, that since I now know how to take the ferry, I no longer needed to know how to ask in Samoan, so I purged those mental files so I’d have more memory for newer, more relevant information. I did ask her how her day was going in Samoan, though and we chatted a bit about busses.
I also got to ride in a “taxi” which was a Peace Corps SUV, upon which Onofia had put a great taxi sign. One of my favorite staff members was the driver and he played up his role as a cab driver. We’ve all learned that cab drivers here may start talking smut the second you get in the cab. They’re looking for a good time and sometimes a way to help you part with your tala (the Samoan dollar). In between checking to see if we knew how to handle the normal process of asking about the fare, etc., he also asked if we were married, wanted a date, knew of Peace Corps girls he could date (that was for the guys) and just generally made us laugh.
The day was stressful because even though it was an informal assessment we all wanted to do well. One thing I can say about Group 83 is that there’s not a slacker in the bunch. We may get on each other’s last nerve at times, but we never give up on getting the job done, whatever the job may be. In this case, learning the language. The simulation was a chance for the staff to assess how far we’d come as well as a good chance for us to practice all we’d learned. That was key since Friday was the big enchilada of our training: the Language Proficiency Exam. Wait, did somebody say enchilada???
To finish training and be sworn in as a volunteer, we have to achieve Intermediate Low proficiency on the exam. Now, realistically, if a trainee is making a serious effort the Peace Corps is not going to throw away all the time and money invested by sending them home for failing the language exam. Realism didn’t enter our realities, though. We were all stressed to the max about doing well on the Interview.
Fale, the language and culture coordinator helped each of us prepare for the interview with coaching and practice interviews. I prefer to think that he spent extra time with me because I’m so charming and fun to be with, rather than that my Samoan stinks.
Late one afternoon, he was helping me practice and started by saying “Hi, I’m funky.” I exchanged surprised glances with another trainee. Since I’d been swatting flies and wiping off sweat for the previous eight hours I just said “Me, too.” and started laughing hysterically. Oops, seems the name of the outside language professional hired to interview us is named Fugi, which if you recall (as I occasionally do) that g’s are pronounced sort of like n’s, that means I’d be interviewed by Funky. Thank heavens I found that out before the actual interview.
Anyway, Friday, December 10 we had our interviews. They involved speaking for 15-30 minutes in Samoan, asking and answering questions and participating in a role play. Mine was not pretty. Funky (as I prefer to spell it) is a Catholic catechist and a sweetheart of a guy. He did his best to help us relax and draw out our best Samoan. Sadly, didn’t work with me. I sat down and immediately forgot everything I’d learned. I did manage to squeak out my name. Our entire group passed our interviews. I may have gotten the senior citizen sympathy pass, and I’m good with that. I’m going to keep up the studying and eventually, I will be able to chat without becoming tense as a cat in a roomful of Samoan dogs.
The stress of our interviews was just the beginning. Friday evening we had to say goodbye to our host families and pack to head back to Apia for a week and then our permanent sites.
Normally, I live alone with my Samoan sister Fa. Occasionally others visit/stay, including Kika, who is Fa’s niece and a Samoan laugh riot. When I got home Friday Fa and Kika were there with a couple of other relatives. Fa surprised me with a new puletasi that she’d asked the wife of the pastor to make for me. Royal blue, with hand drawn silver designs on both the top and skirt. Really beautiful. Kika also gave me some clothes, skirts and a blouse that I’ll be able to wear a lot. She also gave me a beautiful ula from her mom– a special necklace, like a lei. This one is intricately made of beads and is really special. Kika also gave me a pair of her high-heeled sandals that she thought would be perfect to wear with my new puletasi. I’ll be wearing the shoes and puletasi for swearing in. There’s been talk of wearing matching puletasis, but it’s more important to me to honor Fa and Kika by wearing the special gifts they gave me.
I read a speech I’d prepared in Samoan and gave Fa a small gift as a token of my gratitude for her generosity and hospitality. She made a short speech, which she later translated for me into English, in which she told me that I would always be welcome in her home, as part of her family. Tears all around.
For six weeks, Fa treated me like family. Actually, she treated me more like a queen. She cooked every meal for me. She did my laundry (by hand). She patiently helped me with my Samoan homework. She prayed for me. She created a special day for me to celebrate my 60th birthday. She helped me understand Samoan customs. She cleaned for me. She talked and laughed with me. She shared her life and family with me. She didn’t do it because of money. Trust me, the Peace Corps doesn’t have the budget to motivate anyone with money.
Fa did everything she did, as did the other host families, because that’s fa’a Samoa. It’s a culture the Samoan people are proud of and they should be. They value God first and family second. They are hospitable and will give away, literally, the shirt off their backs.
One of the reasons I worked so hard in language training is that while I could get by with no Samoan, knowing the language will make it easier and more fun to fit in here. It also shows my respect for the people and culture. So far, people have been patient, although sometimes perplexed when I inflict my Samoan on them. At least they know I’m trying.
On Saturday morning, we met at the training fale with way more than the luggage we’d arrived there with six weeks before. Each of us took home so many gifts, including a new suitcase, in my case, to accommodate all the new clothes that Fa gave me during my stay.
Next Friday, during swearing in, Fa and Kika will be there. I’ll be wearing my new blue puletasi and the perfect strappy sandals. I couldn’t have made it through training without them.
Three sisters on my birthday. Nice cake, eh? Just part of the feast they prepared for me.
Yes, we're here to teach. We spent two weeks at this school doing our teaching practicum.
Peace Corps ladies working on supoesi - Papaya Soup. Yes, the majority of Samoans cook over wood fires.
Limu - seaweed that's excellent. Also, boiled green bananas in coconut cream. A special occasion dinner!
You've heard of tropical storms? This was a typical afternoon rain. Unfortunately, I forgot my umbrella.
No comments:
Post a Comment