Sounds in Samoa

This is an open fale near me that has been wrapped in tarps due to the wet/windy weather.  I saw another fale that had been "wrapped" in palm fronds, placed vertically, then held up with a rope wrapped horizontally around the house.  Ingenious, these Samoans.

The sound of the ocean is always present. The house where I’m living isn’t on the beach, although it’s within easy walking distance. I can’t see the ocean from the house but I can hear it.

Years ago a friend was heading to Florida on vacation to see the ocean for the first time. She was in her 40’s and it was a big deal. I told her the best part is falling asleep to the sound of the waves. When she got home I asked how she’d liked it. “Did you fall asleep to the waves? Wasn’t it great?” I gushed. “Yes.” She said thoughtfully. “But did you know they go on all night?”

The sound of the waves never stops. It changes but is always there. Sometimes it sounds like a 747 coming in for a landing. Other times, it’s just a powerful whisper. There’s a barrier reef here and I can see and hear the waves crashing there. During high tide, small waves also crash against the sea wall, so there’s a sort of aquatic echo. That’s my favorite time to be at the beach fale.

Animal sounds are also omnipresent. During the day, it’s the birds, pigs, dogs and chickens. Yes, chickens are birds but their sounds are completely different. One evening I thought pigs were being slaughtered, based on the horrendous squealing I heard. Nope, they were just letting us know it was dinner time and they were hungry. I now know that when I hear a pounding sound in the evening that’s someone calling their pigs to be fed. In the training village, rather than hitting a 2X4 on a tin roof, they yelled. Everyone used a similar tone, sort of a Samoan “suueeeee, suuueeeee.” I was asked to call the pigs once, then asked to stop. Seems my calling technique was just scaring the pigs.

Because dogs are used to keep people away from the open fales, they bark and growl every time they sense a stranger approaching. Dogs also roam the neighborhood in packs and occasionally meet up to rumble. Sometimes as I watch them from the beach fale, I hum songs from West Side Story, since it does look like two gangs, doing their best to show who’s the most macho. These dogs all live in close proximity. They all know each other. What prompts them to occasionally try to kill each other is beyond me. And, just as with humans, if a couple of dogs get into it, the rest of the dogs coming running to either watch or join the fray.

The fights result in howls of pain and pathetic sounding squeals of anguish. Sometimes the pain is caused by another dog. Frequently, its caused by the rocks or sticks that kids use to break up the dog fights. Sometimes rocks are thrown at dogs just for fun.

At night, lying in bed in the dark, I hear other animals. Geckos “sing” rather loudly as they hunt for insects. Cockroaches make a surprisingly loud scratching noise as they go about whatever they’re doing in the dark. Fruit bats make a sound like a bird as they call from the breadfruit tree outside my window. My favorite nighttime sound has become the clatter of the rat trap as it snags another victim.

Samoa is a place of contrasts in so many ways. One of them is that, rather than yelling to someone in public, they simply mouth the words. Very polite and something I wish we’d adopt in the States. If not in a store or bus, though, yelling is fairly constant. It seems to be customary that to get someone’s attention, you yell their name. And you keep yelling it, repeatedly, as loudly as you can, until they respond.

Imagine I’m staying at your house and I’m in the shower. You want to get my attention. So you stand in the kitchen and scream “Nancy” every three seconds. Since I’m in the shower, I can’t hear you. No problem. Just keep up the shouting until I’m out of the shower and can holler back. Now imagine that there are ten of us living together. You’re still calling me and now your spouse is calling “Tom”. Every three seconds. As loudly as possible. Now your sister decides that I’m not responding to you quickly enough, so she helps by yelling “Nancy” as loudly as she can, every three seconds.

While the yelling is happening, there’s also music in the background. Well, actually, it’s in the foreground, since it is turned up as loud as it will go. Which makes people have to yell louder over it. The music is usually from a small radio with poor reception. Sometimes a TV. Sometimes a stereo system with great woofers and really powerful base, so you can almost feel the fale shake.

The music being played is usually Samoan hymns. Or popular American music that’s been remixed in Samoa to a reggae beat. Or made into rap. Christmas songs were a hoot here. Every morning in the training village, my sister turned on the radio to Good Morning Samoa (no, I’m not kidding.) After the news, given in both English and Samoan, came music. We listened to Christmas carols done in rap, reggae and to a polka beat. I taught Fa to polka to the beat of a Polish/Samoan version of Jingle Bells.

When the radios and TVs aren’t tuned to music, they’re usually tuned to religious programming. Evangelical preaching, in Samoan, delivered in stereo. My house is located between two Pentecostal churches. Because the churches here use large amplifiers for the music and the preaching, I know when those churches are having their services. Sometimes, during evening prayer services, I hear preaching from both churches as well as the radio of the next door neighbor and the preacher on the TV in the next fale.

Samoans love to sing. Pacific Islanders are reputed to be amongst the best singers in the world. Going to church is akin to going to a great choral concert, reputedly. I overheard a conversation recently. A man said “Samoans are the best singers.” His wife responded “Samoans are the loudest singers.” I’d have to side with loudest, which does not necessarily mean best.

One Sunday I was lucky enough to attend a service that involved the choirs from five different Congregational churches. It was three hours of fabulous music, with great harmony. I’ve also visited churches where they made a joyful noise unto the Lord. Not necessarily good music, but great enthusiasm.

The family next door, who I can hear but can’t see, due to the foliage between the houses, has a lot of kids. I’m not sure how many, but I know it’s more than 10. They live in an open fale about 20 feet away from where I sleep, so I can hear most of what happens in their home. As you can imagine, there’s a fair amount of children/babies crying and a mom yelling. My favorite sound from their fale, though, is the one little boy who loves to sing. He sings all day, every day. Mostly hymns, but other songs, too. He’s not a great singer, but he’s enthusiastic and even when I’m craving quiet, it’s hard not to smile when I hear that sweet, out-of-pitch voice belting out a song. Especially when it’s “Row, row, row your boat.” which I taught him last week at the beach fale.

I’ve learned to tell time by the sounds I hear. If I hear a conch shell being blown in the morning, it means it’s time for the fishermen to head out on the lagoon. And just as with calling someone’s name, sometimes the shell must be blown repeatedly. Sometimes for over half an hour.

The bells are rung at the churches for a variety of reasons. First, let me say that bell doesn’t necessarily mean the kind of metal, bell-shaped object that you may be thinking of. More often, a bell here is made from an old oxygen tank, which is then pounded. Or an old propane tank. Or anything metal that will make noise.

Bells are rung to indicate that morning prayer services will start soon. They usually start at 5 a.m., by the way, so the bell ringing usually starts around 4:30. Don’t worry about that waking you up, since the roosters really get going around 4 a.m. The bells continue throughout the day to announce choir practice (random times), church services, youth practice (usually around 4 in the p.m.), bingo (usually in the afternoon), evening curfew and, sadly, the death of someone who belongs to that church.

I asked the 18 year old who died, after hearing the bell the other day. She said “No one died.” “But the bell rang, slowly and steadily.” “Like this? Bong….bong…bong. Or like this Bong.bong….Bong.bong”.

After I explained it was the first, steady ringing, she agreed that that was the bell to announce a death, but she didn’t go to that church, so didn’t know who had died.

Bells are also used to announce a tsunami warning. After the death of over 200 people just over a year ago as a result of a tsunami, people have started taking the warnings seriously. I asked how I could tell the difference between choir practice and the need to run for the hills, she said I’d know. “It’s really fast, really loud and all the churches will be ringing their bells at the same time.” I asked how long they rang the bell for warning. “For a long time, or until the kid ringing the bell gets scared and runs.” That’s not a job I’d want.

In the wee hours the other morning, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to tell if the approaching headlights were of a car or a bus. I didn’t want to be out there flagging down random cars, but didn’t want to miss the bus. I shouldn’t have worried, since you can usually hear the buses coming. In addition to the sound of a rough, loud engine and grinding gears as the bus slows for the numerous speed bumps, there’s also the music blaring. The buses are each privately owned and it seems to be a point of honor as to who has the loudest music. Not a great selling point, in my opinion, but does make it easier to know which vehicle to flag down in the dark.

Last night we were under an alert for a cyclone. The storm is what caused all of our rain the last several days. The family, in preparation for the storm, moved all four cars/trucks away from large trees. They filled oil lamps with fuel. They gathered extra coconuts to have on hand for the pigs/chickens. Then, while I laid in bed, they prayed. Prayer here is often in song form. So for an hour, I laid in the dark, listening to the family sing their prayers to keep us safe from the cyclone. In harmony. The storm passed us and is now aiming for American Samoa.