The almost two months of language training in the village on Upolu was one of the most challenging things I’ve experienced. The day started about six with a cold shower and a sunrise walk to the fale where we had training on the large porch.
During the long days it was hot and there were constantly flies buzzing around us. Our trainer, Onofia, would patiently drill us and correct my grammar and pronunciation. He didn’t roll his eyes when I asked for the umpteenth time what a word meant. He created games to keep us engaged. When we got grumpy in the heat and frustration, he made us laugh. While we complained about our living conditions, Onofia never did, although he was sleeping on the floor of another man’s home so he could be with us in our training village. He only got to go home on weekends.
He and I blew out candles on a birthday cake together last October. He had just turned 68. It was a big year for him. He’d come out of retirement as a favor to Peace Corps to train us. He was determined that we’d be his last class.
The highlight of the year came in late December when his only son got married. Onofia was excited about the wedding although sad that his son would be moving to New Zealand with his new bride. He encouraged his son to go but acknowledged that his home would not be the same when his son was gone.
It was good to see Onofia and the other language trainers at our Early Service Conference last month. Onofia looked tired but said he felt well. He hugged me and complimented me on how much my language had improved. I reassured him that I told everyone in my village that I had a great language teacher, but he had a poor student. During ESC he told us about the legends of Samoa. He was a Talking Chief in his village of Mullivai and a great story teller.
I heard last night that Onofia died on Sunday. It was unexpected. My heart goes out to his wife and son. I hope they know how much Onofia gave to so many of us. We loved him and will miss him.
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