Challenges

One would think that after more than eight months in Samoa, I’d be in tune with the culture. One would be wrong. The thing about cultural differences is that there are so many small things that we take for granted. When you’re living in the culture in which you were born and raised, you know how to act. You know, without thinking, what is expected in a variety of situations.

In a foreign culture, not so much. And just when I think I’ve figured it out, I realize I haven’t a clue. Here are some recent examples.
My friend brought another big bag of mangoes to me at the school yesterday. I was upstairs working when she arrived and she sent them up via her granddaughter. When I went downstairs for assembly, I saw that she had given another bag to one of the other teachers. That teacher shared them with all the other teachers. They were eating them, peel and all.

I was told in training that it is perfectly acceptable and even a good thing to regift food items. Rather than making the giver think you don’t appreciate their gift, it shows that you liked it so much you wanted to share it. Plus, it lets everyone who is a regiftee know the largesse of the original giver.

So even though I selfishly didn’t want to, I figured I should share my mangoes with the other teachers. I took the bag down to the room where we have tea during interval. I, figuratively, stepped in it. The teachers were hungry and wanted the mangoes, but the woman who gave them to me made it clear she’d brought them especially for me and they were not to be shared. Awkward.

Late yesterday afternoon I joined my first exercise class with my sub-village’s women’s committee. When I arrived, they were sitting in a circle in the sand near a house. As I approached, conversation stopped and everyone stared at me. No greetings and no smiles. Intimidating. I’ve walked by this group of women numerous times and with the exception of one woman, they never speak to me. They watch me but that’s as close as it gets.

I had been specifically invited to this meeting and was determined to make friends. Finally, as I was within feet of the group, the woman who’s been friendliest in the past said hello. I responded in Samoan and asked her how she was doing. The group murmured and nodded in approval at that. One woman sent a younger woman into the house. She returned with a folding chair so I didn’t have to sit on the ground.

I spent about an hour with the women. I led “jazzercise” which involved all of us standing in a circle with me doing the few moves I recalled from an aerobics class decades ago. Mostly, it was moving around in time to the music with a little booty shaking thrown in for good measure. The women laughed and seemed to enjoy it. While this was happening, the president, who had invited me to join the group showed up. She asked me to make a speech to the group when we finished exercising.
I kept it brief and started in Samoan by apologizing for not speaking more Samoan, then ended in English by thanking them for letting me live in their community. It was hardly articulate, but got smiles and nods of support.

Then a woman said that she’d speak to me on behalf of all the women. She made a speech in Samoan. I didn’t get every word, but the gist was that I was welcome and they were happy to have me there. She thanked me for teaching at their school and said they loved me and would pray for me.

Before leaving a many of the women hugged me, shook my hand, or waved goodbye. As I walked home I thought about the taciturn looks I’d always gotten from these women. I realized that as intimidated as I was of them, especially when there were 20+ of them gathered together, they were even more intimidated by me.
I’m a palagi, which gives me status here. I’m “elderly” which also gives me status. Plus, I’m a teacher. Once again I got the message that while I’m waiting for them to make the first move in welcoming me into their world, they’re holding back out of fear of offending.

When the president of the committee came to my house the other evening she told me she was nervous about talking to me. I told her I was nervous about talking to her. We laughed.

The language barrier is part of the issue. Not knowing quite how we’re supposed to interact is also part of it. Concern about doing something out of line makes all of us feel as if we’re walking on eggshells. The fact that they would immediately run to get me a chair – the only chair – shows that they think I’m different. And when they brought it, I had a moment of panic. Sit in the chair, like the Queen of Sheba, a status I don’t think I deserve, or sit on the ground with them which would make me more comfortable (emotionally, if not physically) or would that offend because they’d offered me the chair? I sat in the chair, by the way.

At least the ice was broken in a big way. I think we’re moving forward. I’m playing volleyball with them on Monday afternoon. Forget cold showers, hand washing all my laundry and limited food options. The biggest challenge is trying to feel my way through the cultural differences. So far, so good.