My First Asiasiga

Heading to the next house on the tour.

Written Thursday, December 23, 2010

Wednesday evening a man stopped by the house and chatted for awhile with K.  After he left, she announced that he was my new boyfriend and he’d invited us to an event the next day.  All I knew was that we’d be going to houses to look at holiday decorations and then the men’s committee would be giving out prizes to who grew the most taro.  Seems my new boyfriend would be getting first prize. Excuse me? New boyfriend?

K’s son drove us up the road the next morning to a house where 20 or some women were gathered, almost all in matching puletasis.  I was happy to recognize several of the women from my previous visit to the village. 

We headed off down a path, through a banana plantation.  One sweet looking elderly woman said something that I didn’t understand.  K translated that she was saying that under the banana trees would be a perfect place for me to fool around with my new boyfriend.  Laughter all around.  Really, who decided I have a new boyfriend?  

I’ve been on tours in the States to view holiday decorations in historic homes.  This was sort of like that, only completely different.  We walked from house to house.  At each home, the same two women held up items that had been readied by the homeowner.  Predominate items were hand woven fine mats, pillows, bedding and kitchen items.  There was also one television and some bath towels.

As we strolled through the village, K tried to explain what was going on.  Seems this was all one extended family.  Once a year they have a chance to show off to others in the family the work they’ve done to prepare for the holiday and the guests they’ll host throughout the year.   The two women counting and holding up the items for view were the heads of the decoration committee of the family committee. At least that’s what I understood. 

The quality and number of items were commented on and there was much “Malo!” and “Malo lava!” yelling, which means good job and really good job.  Refreshments were also handed out along the way.  One home gave us each a cold can of strawberry soda.  Another gave us bananas.  Yet another had a young boy in a tree, picking oranges and tossing them to us.  One woman gave me a pineapple as we left her home.

After a couple of hours of walking through houses, with me taking photos at every stop, we got to what K said was the last house.  As in the other homes, I was invited in and given a seat of honor, while the other older women joined me and the younger women stood outside, watching through the open walls.  This time, though, there was music and some of the ladies started dancing.  I avoided the dancing by filming the fun.

K pointed to an open fale next door and a couple of men sitting there.  She asked me to take their photos.  That’s when I noticed more men coming toward the fale.  Ah, the men’s committee was convening.  That’s when I finally figured out that this was not just a tour of houses, but also a big celebration.  After more dancing with the ladies, I was given a seat of honor in the fale with the men.  The older women joined us for an ava ceremony.  Thanks to Sa’u and the language trainers of Peace Corps, I’d been to two ava ceremonies previously and had some idea what to expect.  It’s very formal and more about respect and recognition than ava drinking, since everyone gets just a sip.

After more speeches, the younger women started arriving with platters of food for each of us.  Mine included a whole fried fish, 1/4 chicken, a giant sausage, a cabbage salad with krab, roasted pork, a whole taro, palusami and a large bowl of oka.  I knew that I could just eat what I wanted and leave the rest, since anything I didn’t eat would either be taken home as leftovers or given to the women serving the food for their lunch.

After eating, we were brought bowls/towels to wash our hands, which I think is a fine custom.  Sort of like finger bowls, for those old enough to remember them, except these accommodate the whole hand. Especially important in Samoa, since we eat with our hands and there are no napkins.

After eating the prize/gift giving began.  They laid out machetes, shovels and other farm implements in the center of the fale.  They started giving out prizes for the most taro grown, with much laughter and cheering.  My boyfriend did win first prize and if my limited Samoan was correct there was a lot of laughing about also giving me as prize to him.  When that was done, they cranked up the tunes in the nearby fale and one of the men got up and started dancing.  He invited me to dance with him and I did my own version of Polynesian dancing.  I’m not a dancer, but at least provided comic relief.    

While I was dancing, dessert was served. Huge (as in more than a pint) servings of ice cream along with a slice of cake and some cookies.  As I contemplated what to do with that much ice cream I realized that the speeches had started again.  This time it involved money.  I’m still not sure who all got cash, who it came from or why, but after a short speech that involved the words “Palagi” and Pisi Koa, a man put a $50 tala bill under the mat in front of me.  The money, along with the leftovers from our plates went back to K’s house.

After a few more photos, the party was winding down and K and I took the short walk home.  It was exactly the kind of experience that I joined the Peace Corps to have.  I was in a completely foreign culture, where very little English was being spoken, having a wonderful time and feeling like part of a large new family.  The fact that we were only yards from a lagoon in the South Pacific was just gravy. 

In the evening, I showed the folks in my house the photos and video I’d taken.  We laughed a lot.  The next afternoon, I showed the photos and videos to the family whose party it was.  They seemed to enjoy it too.  So much so, that I just bought  a blank DVD and am downloading everything on it so they can have a copy.  It seems I’ll also be the videographer/photographer tonight at their church’s Christmas pageant.  I sense a new career in the works.

About the new boyfriend.  Seems he’s a tulafale (talking chief) of the family and was widowed about 2 years ago.  Not sure of his age, since opinions varied, but he’s somewhere between 60-70 and considered quite a catch.  I don’t know about him, but I’m not ready for fooling around under the bananas.

P. S.  I spent months getting medically cleared to qualify for the Peace Corps.  What they neglected to test was my ability to sit cross-legged on a mat on cement for two hours, then jump up and dance. 

The prizes given to the families who grew the most taro.

The food was excellent - and plentiful!