I've heard through the coconut wireless that the new group of volunteers, due to arrive in Samoa in early October has begun reading blogs and emailing members of our group. Afio mai! Welcome!
Natalie, one of our group from Upolu just posted today with some advice. Enjoy. We're all looking forward to meeting you.
Don't hesitate to contact any of us if you have questions. We appreciated all the support we received before we arrived and are happy to help.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Group 84 Housing
Housing is one of the most important things for a PCV and one of the hardest for the PC to control. The village, represented by the school committee, is responsible for our housing. No matter how often PC tells them that it is not good to have a volunteer live with the pulenu’u (mayor) or the faifeaou (pastor) because it makes it harder for the volunteer to integrate, it still happens. They tend to have the best houses and that’s what the village wants to provide.
Volunteers usually want to live on their own, to be able to cook for themselves and have some privacy. That’s challenging, too. In accepting a volunteer, the village is accepting the responsibility of protecting the volunteer. So they want the volunteer to live somewhere they can be watched over.
I have been very lucky. I live in my own enclosed house (palagi fale) in my family’s compound. I have my own attached shower/toilet and a nice kitchen. They have gone out of their way to give me privacy and space. They are good company when I’m feeling lonely and a great source of information, from village gossip to the best place to get whatever I need.
When I first moved in, though, they were concerned about me sleeping alone. Every night, they offered to let me sleep in the open fale with them. I declined and explained that for 58 years I’ve been sleeping alone. “Why?” my brother asked in horror. “Did your parents hate you??” They just can’t imagine anyone wanting to sleep alone.
Here are the typical housing options, along with pros and cons: House on the school compound. The pluses are the house is usually fairly new and complete, with private toilet and shower. Sometimes, though, the toilet is shared with all the teachers. Another plus is that this is usually the quietest housing option, except when school is in session. No loud music from family/neighbors at night and on weekends. By the way, just because you have the day off, school may be in session for some classes. Or the kids just like to hang around the school and you.
The downside is that you’re living at work. In some cases that means that teachers will want to use your house and stuff, since its right there. Even though I don’t live on the compound, because I live nearby I used to be asked to store cold water and bring my hotplate or electric kettle.
The biggest negative for this living option is safety and security. Without a family around to watch over you and your stuff, you’re more prone to be bothered by “night creepers” and burglars. Night creepers are guys who have a bit too much to drink (or are just brazen) and decide to make a booty call, even if uninvited.
Another negative is that because you don’t have a “family” it’s harder to be integrated and get all the news on what’s going on in the village. Family is your link to the coconut wireless.
The least preferred option of most volunteers is living in a room with a Samoan family. Having said that, the volunteers currently living with families seem happy with the arrangement. You just have to set boundaries and get accustomed to each other’s ways, as with any roommate. Of course, language and culture make this scenario more challenging. Rumor has it that most of you will be living in a room in a family's home.
Some pros of living with a family are that you will likely have better language skills. You’ll likely also have a deeper insight into fa’asamoa. You may save money because your family will likely feed you. You may lose weight because your family may feed you, depending on how picky an eater you are. You may gain wait because your family may feed you!
There will be rules about your comings and goings, but that’s true even if you have a house in a family compound, as I do. And no matter where you live, there will be gossip. Even after two years people still seem interested in what I do, where I go and who I might be sleeping with.
If you read my early posts, you’ll read about my frustration with housing. I’d been promised a house of my own in a family compound. I’d visited the house. At one point I cleaned the house and had the keys. But it didn’t work out. It took six months and made me really appreciate the house I have now.
Bring lots of patience to Samoa. And flexibility. The best advice I can give is to have low expectations. Peace Corps may ask about your preferences but they can’t pull rabbits out of hats. Their priority is to make sure you are as safe as possible. Indoor toilet, privacy, view of the ocean and cooking facilities are icing on the cake. Plan on bugs. Lots of them. Plan on noise. Samoans tend to be exuberant and express enthusiasm loudly. Plan to make your living situation work for you.
Volunteers usually want to live on their own, to be able to cook for themselves and have some privacy. That’s challenging, too. In accepting a volunteer, the village is accepting the responsibility of protecting the volunteer. So they want the volunteer to live somewhere they can be watched over.
I have been very lucky. I live in my own enclosed house (palagi fale) in my family’s compound. I have my own attached shower/toilet and a nice kitchen. They have gone out of their way to give me privacy and space. They are good company when I’m feeling lonely and a great source of information, from village gossip to the best place to get whatever I need.
When I first moved in, though, they were concerned about me sleeping alone. Every night, they offered to let me sleep in the open fale with them. I declined and explained that for 58 years I’ve been sleeping alone. “Why?” my brother asked in horror. “Did your parents hate you??” They just can’t imagine anyone wanting to sleep alone.
Here are the typical housing options, along with pros and cons: House on the school compound. The pluses are the house is usually fairly new and complete, with private toilet and shower. Sometimes, though, the toilet is shared with all the teachers. Another plus is that this is usually the quietest housing option, except when school is in session. No loud music from family/neighbors at night and on weekends. By the way, just because you have the day off, school may be in session for some classes. Or the kids just like to hang around the school and you.
The downside is that you’re living at work. In some cases that means that teachers will want to use your house and stuff, since its right there. Even though I don’t live on the compound, because I live nearby I used to be asked to store cold water and bring my hotplate or electric kettle.
The biggest negative for this living option is safety and security. Without a family around to watch over you and your stuff, you’re more prone to be bothered by “night creepers” and burglars. Night creepers are guys who have a bit too much to drink (or are just brazen) and decide to make a booty call, even if uninvited.
Another negative is that because you don’t have a “family” it’s harder to be integrated and get all the news on what’s going on in the village. Family is your link to the coconut wireless.
The least preferred option of most volunteers is living in a room with a Samoan family. Having said that, the volunteers currently living with families seem happy with the arrangement. You just have to set boundaries and get accustomed to each other’s ways, as with any roommate. Of course, language and culture make this scenario more challenging. Rumor has it that most of you will be living in a room in a family's home.
Some pros of living with a family are that you will likely have better language skills. You’ll likely also have a deeper insight into fa’asamoa. You may save money because your family will likely feed you. You may lose weight because your family may feed you, depending on how picky an eater you are. You may gain wait because your family may feed you!
There will be rules about your comings and goings, but that’s true even if you have a house in a family compound, as I do. And no matter where you live, there will be gossip. Even after two years people still seem interested in what I do, where I go and who I might be sleeping with.
If you read my early posts, you’ll read about my frustration with housing. I’d been promised a house of my own in a family compound. I’d visited the house. At one point I cleaned the house and had the keys. But it didn’t work out. It took six months and made me really appreciate the house I have now.
Bring lots of patience to Samoa. And flexibility. The best advice I can give is to have low expectations. Peace Corps may ask about your preferences but they can’t pull rabbits out of hats. Their priority is to make sure you are as safe as possible. Indoor toilet, privacy, view of the ocean and cooking facilities are icing on the cake. Plan on bugs. Lots of them. Plan on noise. Samoans tend to be exuberant and express enthusiasm loudly. Plan to make your living situation work for you.
Misconceptions and Housing
Hello, Group 84 – are you getting excited?
At our Close of Service (COS) conference last week we talked about some of the expectations we had when we arrived. Even though many of us did a lot of research, stalked all the blogs (thank you, Matt Leal) and looked at every photo available, we have to laugh now about some of our misconceptions.
For example, some of us thought villages were round. I’m not sure why we thought that but they aren’t. There is one main road around Savaii. The villages (with a few exceptions) are stretched along that road, snakelike. Roads away from the sea head up into the mountains. They are called auala galue and lead to the plantations. Where families might have a second home in addition to the home(s) they have in the village.
It is much the same in Upolu, except that Upolu also has roads that go across the island. I assumed each family had a house. I was incorrect. Most families have houses. For example, my family has a house (an open faleo’o) in the plantation. Think weekend cottage up north, if you’re from the mid-west. In the family compound in the village they have an open fale (faleo’o), 3 palagi fales (houses with walls), a faleuila (outhouse with a flush toilet), an uma kooka (outdoor kitchen for boiling dinner every night and the umu on Sundays) and a faletaiele (outdoor shower).
On either side of our compound are extended family members who have a similar number of houses and buildings. My family also has a couple of houses on a compound in Apia, adjacent to more relatives.
Growing up in Arizona, in our house there was mom, dad, brother and me. My much older sister visited occasionally with her immediate family. On holidays, aunts, uncles and cousins would visit. But most of the time, it was just mom, dad, brother and me. We lived in a house with walls and we each slept in our own bed, every night.
Lifestyles in Samoa are much more fluid. Sometimes relatives from another village will be visiting. Sometimes the older kids are in Apia, sometimes they’re in Savaii. One thing is for sure. If you’re hoping for your own fale, with all the privacy of an apartment in America, you’ll be disappointed.
My family goes out of their way to give me privacy and “space” but it’s just not the Samoan way. I’ll miss hearing the 13 year old boy next door yell hello every night as we cook dinner together – me in my fale and him in his outdoor kitchen. I’ll miss the “little kids” playing in front of the fale, their squeals equally ear piercing and joyous. I can’t wait for the privacy of a home in Florida again. But I’m really going to miss being part of a big happy Samoan family.
At our Close of Service (COS) conference last week we talked about some of the expectations we had when we arrived. Even though many of us did a lot of research, stalked all the blogs (thank you, Matt Leal) and looked at every photo available, we have to laugh now about some of our misconceptions.
For example, some of us thought villages were round. I’m not sure why we thought that but they aren’t. There is one main road around Savaii. The villages (with a few exceptions) are stretched along that road, snakelike. Roads away from the sea head up into the mountains. They are called auala galue and lead to the plantations. Where families might have a second home in addition to the home(s) they have in the village.
It is much the same in Upolu, except that Upolu also has roads that go across the island. I assumed each family had a house. I was incorrect. Most families have houses. For example, my family has a house (an open faleo’o) in the plantation. Think weekend cottage up north, if you’re from the mid-west. In the family compound in the village they have an open fale (faleo’o), 3 palagi fales (houses with walls), a faleuila (outhouse with a flush toilet), an uma kooka (outdoor kitchen for boiling dinner every night and the umu on Sundays) and a faletaiele (outdoor shower).
On either side of our compound are extended family members who have a similar number of houses and buildings. My family also has a couple of houses on a compound in Apia, adjacent to more relatives.
Growing up in Arizona, in our house there was mom, dad, brother and me. My much older sister visited occasionally with her immediate family. On holidays, aunts, uncles and cousins would visit. But most of the time, it was just mom, dad, brother and me. We lived in a house with walls and we each slept in our own bed, every night.
Lifestyles in Samoa are much more fluid. Sometimes relatives from another village will be visiting. Sometimes the older kids are in Apia, sometimes they’re in Savaii. One thing is for sure. If you’re hoping for your own fale, with all the privacy of an apartment in America, you’ll be disappointed.
My family goes out of their way to give me privacy and “space” but it’s just not the Samoan way. I’ll miss hearing the 13 year old boy next door yell hello every night as we cook dinner together – me in my fale and him in his outdoor kitchen. I’ll miss the “little kids” playing in front of the fale, their squeals equally ear piercing and joyous. I can’t wait for the privacy of a home in Florida again. But I’m really going to miss being part of a big happy Samoan family.
Final School Break
It’s Tuesday morning, September 11, 2012 in Samoa.
I’m enjoying the luxury of an air conditioned hotel room this week. We’re in week two of the school break between Terms 2 and 3.
I just wrote a boring and sappy piece about our Close of Service conference. Rather than post that, here’s a few high/low lights of the week.
Food was a big part of the week. I’m glad I had my COS physical before we started eating our way through a delicious week of Asian food (at our Country Director’s home); cupcakes and cakes during breaks at the hotel; and family style meals that offered enough food to satisfy even a bunch of starving Peace Corps Volunteers.
Ants were also a big part of the week. My bed was crawling with them the first night and I’m still sporting the bites. A tropical tip: never, ever put your bra on before checking to see if it is covered in ants. The results can be unpleasant.
Emotions were also high during the sessions. We talked about our 2 years of service- what we loved, what we’ll be happy to leave. We talked about moving forward and how we felt about that. We talked about leaving each other and how we expect to react when we get back to the United States.
Peace Corps keeps telling us that readjusting is often more difficult than adjusting to our country of service. I can imagine that might be true for a variety of reasons. That may be but I’m still looking forward to it. The hard part for me now is to get my head and heart back into being here. After a week of looking forward, it’s a bit of a challenge to focus on the present. I suspect the first day back at school next week will change that.
I’m enjoying the luxury of an air conditioned hotel room this week. We’re in week two of the school break between Terms 2 and 3.
I just wrote a boring and sappy piece about our Close of Service conference. Rather than post that, here’s a few high/low lights of the week.
Food was a big part of the week. I’m glad I had my COS physical before we started eating our way through a delicious week of Asian food (at our Country Director’s home); cupcakes and cakes during breaks at the hotel; and family style meals that offered enough food to satisfy even a bunch of starving Peace Corps Volunteers.
Ants were also a big part of the week. My bed was crawling with them the first night and I’m still sporting the bites. A tropical tip: never, ever put your bra on before checking to see if it is covered in ants. The results can be unpleasant.
Emotions were also high during the sessions. We talked about our 2 years of service- what we loved, what we’ll be happy to leave. We talked about moving forward and how we felt about that. We talked about leaving each other and how we expect to react when we get back to the United States.
Peace Corps keeps telling us that readjusting is often more difficult than adjusting to our country of service. I can imagine that might be true for a variety of reasons. That may be but I’m still looking forward to it. The hard part for me now is to get my head and heart back into being here. After a week of looking forward, it’s a bit of a challenge to focus on the present. I suspect the first day back at school next week will change that.
Cheese Enchiladas
This is worthy of it's own post. I just had lunch in an air conditioned restaurant in Apia. I had cheese enchiladas, Spanish rice and refried beans. With salsa and sour cream.
Maybe I should have extended service for another year after all! They even sell taco shells in the store next to the restaurant. Things have changed a bit in two years...
Maybe I should have extended service for another year after all! They even sell taco shells in the store next to the restaurant. Things have changed a bit in two years...
Monday, August 20, 2012
Paragraphs
My apologies for recently publishing long posts that not only aren't broken up by photos but not even a few spaces...like in paragraphs.
I'm having technical difficulties but wanted to get some stuff up. Sorry for the annoyance. I'll try to correct it when I get access to WIFI.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Uh Oh.
I left school early today to run errands. Since one was an errand for the school and since the electricity was out so I couldn’t do what I was supposed to be doing I felt no guilt. Besides the whole school was getting out in 30 minutes.
I went to the bank to pay my internet bill, went to the phone company to pay my phone bill and then went to the stationary store to get some supplies for the school. One of the things was anti-virus software which they were sending from Apia, but they forgot it. Ah, well. Next week, a return visit.
I wanted to do something different and fun. I’m pretty bored with the daily routine. I decided to go to the wholesale store and buy six cans of chili beans. What an adventure! Unfortunately, when I got there they had no beans. I asked if they would be getting any. “They are out of stock.” “Yes. Will you be getting more later?” “They are out of stock in Apia, too.” “Yes, I understand. Will they get more sometime?” “They are out of stock.” Golly, that was fun.
Luckily, the wholesale store (if you are thinking it resembles Sam’s or Costco you are dead wrong, by the way. Think more of a 7-11 that sells in bulk.) is next to Uncle Bill’s. Or Burger Bill’s since I think they’ve changed the name but not the sign. It doesn’t matter except to show that I’m so bored I write about this kind of minutia, which anybody reading can’t possibly be interested in.
Anyway, I’m tired of chicken. Tinned mackerel and egg salad sandwiches have also been on the menu too often lately, since the parents have been bringing food to us at school. I figured I’d treat myself to fish and chips for dinner, along with a smoothie, which is one of my favorite things on the island. Cold, fruity and icy. Miracle of miracle, they had both the fish and the smoothie!
Multiple times I’ve walked away from Uncle/Burger Bill’s empty handed. Because they had no burgers, no fish, no chips and no smoothies. Just chicken.
By the way, since I’ve already taken us down the useless details path and you’ve followed gamely along, here’s a question. Why is there an apostrophe in Bill’s? Because it’s Uncle/Burger Bill’s restaurant? And who is Bill anyway? Because the photo on the sign is Uncle Sam.
Ok, back to the story. I strolled out to the road and was enjoying my smoothie while waiting for the bus. You’re allowed to stand outside and eat or drink, you’re just not allowed to walk while eating or drinking.
A kid was also waiting for the bus and we chatted a bit. I finished my smoothie and walked a few feet to the new plastic garbage can next to the gate leading to the parking lot for both burgers and wholesale shopping.
I was thinking how nice it was that they’d put it there, since littering is a common problem. I unattached the lid, further impressed that they’d spend the money for an upscale garbage can. I tossed in my empty cup, lid and straw still in place. After it left my hand, I glanced into the garbage as I was reattaching the lid. Uh oh. There was a backpack in there. And something else that I didn’t recognize with my quick glance, but it did not appear to be garbage.
As I was walking back to the road, pondering situation, I realized that someone had probably purchased the garbage can, put the stuff they were carrying into and left it there while they ran into the store or restaurant. Now they’ll find my empty cup inside.
I considered going back and taking my cup out, but what if it really was garbage? The backpack or bag or whatever was worn and ripped. Someone could have thrown it away. Did I really want to start rummaging in Samoan trash? And let’s say I did. And it wasn’t trash, but a newly purchased garbage can being used for storage. And the owner came back to wait for the bus and found me rummaging through his stuff. That would be awkward.
I opted to leave it in and walk away to wait elsewhere for the bus. I’m a chicken. What would you have done? Really, what is the protocol here? Sadly, this is not the first time I have (or may have, in this case) had a major uh oh with a garbage can.
I was having lunch at an outdoor café in Istanbul one day (which was much more exotic than Burger Bill’s, by the way) when I felt the call of nature. I was directed to a public restroom nearby. My first mistake was trying to walk into the men’s side. I was politely directed to the correct door. Inside the ladies room I used the squatty potty.
I found out what Turkish women wear under their burkas – beautiful, modern pants suits, perfect makeup and lots of jewelry. After I’d finished my business, I blew my nose and through the Kleenex into the large, covered, blue plastic garbage can. I lifted the lid with one hand and tossed the tissue with the other. And observed what I’d just done with horror.
The garbage can was not a garbage can at all but a huge container of water. I was supposed to have used the small blue plastic cup in the stall to fill with water and then flush the squatty potty. As I realized what I’d done and was having a furious mental debate about reaching in for the sinking, sodden tissue, the elegantly dressed women were putting their burkas back on gazed at me, shocked at what I’d done. I didn’t dip my hand in. I just gave an apologetic shrug and walked away.
I’m never touching an unfamiliar covered garbage can again.
Update: I never did see anyone come back. It may really have just been a trash can. International incident averted.
I went to the bank to pay my internet bill, went to the phone company to pay my phone bill and then went to the stationary store to get some supplies for the school. One of the things was anti-virus software which they were sending from Apia, but they forgot it. Ah, well. Next week, a return visit.
I wanted to do something different and fun. I’m pretty bored with the daily routine. I decided to go to the wholesale store and buy six cans of chili beans. What an adventure! Unfortunately, when I got there they had no beans. I asked if they would be getting any. “They are out of stock.” “Yes. Will you be getting more later?” “They are out of stock in Apia, too.” “Yes, I understand. Will they get more sometime?” “They are out of stock.” Golly, that was fun.
Luckily, the wholesale store (if you are thinking it resembles Sam’s or Costco you are dead wrong, by the way. Think more of a 7-11 that sells in bulk.) is next to Uncle Bill’s. Or Burger Bill’s since I think they’ve changed the name but not the sign. It doesn’t matter except to show that I’m so bored I write about this kind of minutia, which anybody reading can’t possibly be interested in.
Anyway, I’m tired of chicken. Tinned mackerel and egg salad sandwiches have also been on the menu too often lately, since the parents have been bringing food to us at school. I figured I’d treat myself to fish and chips for dinner, along with a smoothie, which is one of my favorite things on the island. Cold, fruity and icy. Miracle of miracle, they had both the fish and the smoothie!
Multiple times I’ve walked away from Uncle/Burger Bill’s empty handed. Because they had no burgers, no fish, no chips and no smoothies. Just chicken.
By the way, since I’ve already taken us down the useless details path and you’ve followed gamely along, here’s a question. Why is there an apostrophe in Bill’s? Because it’s Uncle/Burger Bill’s restaurant? And who is Bill anyway? Because the photo on the sign is Uncle Sam.
Ok, back to the story. I strolled out to the road and was enjoying my smoothie while waiting for the bus. You’re allowed to stand outside and eat or drink, you’re just not allowed to walk while eating or drinking.
A kid was also waiting for the bus and we chatted a bit. I finished my smoothie and walked a few feet to the new plastic garbage can next to the gate leading to the parking lot for both burgers and wholesale shopping.
I was thinking how nice it was that they’d put it there, since littering is a common problem. I unattached the lid, further impressed that they’d spend the money for an upscale garbage can. I tossed in my empty cup, lid and straw still in place. After it left my hand, I glanced into the garbage as I was reattaching the lid. Uh oh. There was a backpack in there. And something else that I didn’t recognize with my quick glance, but it did not appear to be garbage.
As I was walking back to the road, pondering situation, I realized that someone had probably purchased the garbage can, put the stuff they were carrying into and left it there while they ran into the store or restaurant. Now they’ll find my empty cup inside.
I considered going back and taking my cup out, but what if it really was garbage? The backpack or bag or whatever was worn and ripped. Someone could have thrown it away. Did I really want to start rummaging in Samoan trash? And let’s say I did. And it wasn’t trash, but a newly purchased garbage can being used for storage. And the owner came back to wait for the bus and found me rummaging through his stuff. That would be awkward.
I opted to leave it in and walk away to wait elsewhere for the bus. I’m a chicken. What would you have done? Really, what is the protocol here? Sadly, this is not the first time I have (or may have, in this case) had a major uh oh with a garbage can.
I was having lunch at an outdoor café in Istanbul one day (which was much more exotic than Burger Bill’s, by the way) when I felt the call of nature. I was directed to a public restroom nearby. My first mistake was trying to walk into the men’s side. I was politely directed to the correct door. Inside the ladies room I used the squatty potty.
I found out what Turkish women wear under their burkas – beautiful, modern pants suits, perfect makeup and lots of jewelry. After I’d finished my business, I blew my nose and through the Kleenex into the large, covered, blue plastic garbage can. I lifted the lid with one hand and tossed the tissue with the other. And observed what I’d just done with horror.
The garbage can was not a garbage can at all but a huge container of water. I was supposed to have used the small blue plastic cup in the stall to fill with water and then flush the squatty potty. As I realized what I’d done and was having a furious mental debate about reaching in for the sinking, sodden tissue, the elegantly dressed women were putting their burkas back on gazed at me, shocked at what I’d done. I didn’t dip my hand in. I just gave an apologetic shrug and walked away.
I’m never touching an unfamiliar covered garbage can again.
Update: I never did see anyone come back. It may really have just been a trash can. International incident averted.
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