I've Got Answers

 I'm alive and well, but just in case...this is actually on display to show off the work of a carpenter who lives near me.

What’s up with the Q & A format?

I don’t know, I just find it easy to do. No theme, just random stuff that occurs to me as I’m going through the day.

What are the best things you brought with you from home?

My Kindle, headlamp, rechargeable batteries, a good kitchen knife, a decent frying pan and a medium sized washable nylon purse with several zippered pockets and a strap that I can wear diagonally across my body.  Oh, almost forgot the down throw that Greg and Vicki gave me years ago for Christmas.  It folds away to nothing, is very warm and has been a huge comfort on the chilly nights we’ve been having. 

Is there anything you wish you’d brought?

Not really.  I wish I had taken the Buck knife that I brought with me to the training village.  I use a knife here a lot – for cutting fruit, opening packages, prying stuff open, etc.  Handy to always have on hand.

Why is everybody carrying a hand towel?

A lot of people carry hand towels, but not everyone.  Some carry wash cloths.  Some carry hankies.  Some carry tea towels.  They’re used to wipe the sweat off your face.  Most people, including men, also carry a fan.  I carry a hanky and a fan. No, I don’t wear makeup, because it would just melt off during the mid-day sweating.

Does your laundry actually get clean when you bucket wash it?

I doubt it.  Clearly, based on the filthy water when I’m done it’s cleaner, but all things are relative.  After washing, rinsing as well as I can and hanging in the sun/breeze, it still smells like something that’s been in your grandma’s closet a decade too long.

How do you dry your clothes there, since it’s been raining for several days straight?

I hang them on the line under the open fale.  I’ve also learned that “dry” is a relative word and is interchangeable with “slightly damp”.

How long will it take them to dry?

Completely dry?  Probably will never happen.  How long it takes to get dry enough depends on wind.  If there’s a breeze and it doesn’t blow the rain on them, just a few hours.  No breeze and a hundred per cent humidity, it could take a day or two.

If it’s such a pain in the ass to wash a lot of clothes at one time, why did you let your laundry pile up?

Good question.  Partly because I was in Apia, so that was two days worth of clothes.  Then it started raining and the covered clothes lines were full of other people’s clothes.  Yesterday, I was just lazy.  I read a book instead.  Yes, the entire book. 

What was that young couple doing outside the faleoloa yesterday?

Eating ice cream.  It’s considered impolite to eat and drink while walking here, so people buy ice cream cones in the only store in the area that sells them, then stand outside to eat them.  In this case, they were also eating donuts.  Ice cream cone in one hand, donut in the other, alternating a bite of donut with a lick of ice cream.

You spend a lot of time sitting at the beach fale.  Have you seen anything interesting?

Yes.  Twice, I’ve seen huge schools of small fish, flying across the water.  Clearly, there were predators below.  It was beautiful. 

While waiting for the bus in the wee hours the other morning I saw a Russian submarine.  Well, it actually was probably a fisherman with a strong underwater flashlight.  But sighting a Russian submarine sounds much more exciting.

I’ve been here a month now.  I can still happily stare at the water for hours. Which is a good thing, since I spend hours staring at the water.

Do you miss any food from home?

Mexican food and anything with cheese on it.  And bacon.  And steak.  They sell bacon at the nearby store, but it’s $20 tala a pound.  It will be a treat every few months.  They sell cheese for $8, so I’ll be getting that, once I get a fridge.  I don’t know when that will be. I also crave a good, old-fashioned grilled hamburger.  They sell hamburgers in some restaurants in Apia, but they’re made New Zealand style.  That means with a paper thin meat patty, a fried egg and something similar to coleslaw.  Tasty, but just not what I crave, which is a thick, blood-red rare grilled burger on a bun with a schmear of mayo and a thick slice of sweet onion.

What do you eat?

I don’t often eat with the family I’m staying with and my ability to cook here is very limited.  I eat a lot of crackers with peanut butter.  Sometimes with jam, sometimes with avocado, since they’re in season and only $1 tala apiece.  I’ve been buying a piece of fried chicken at the market in Salelologa each week when I go in to shop and use the internet.  Only $2 tala for a leg/thigh and delicious.  My iron stomach hasn’t let me down yet, so no problems eating the street food.

I’ve been eating a lot of ramen, too.  Cheap and easy to make.  The big store that’s about a mile away sometimes sells sandwiches for $2 tala (either tuna or egg salad) so I’ve had those a few times.

I eat a lot of fruit.  There’s a star fruit tree in the yard and I seem to be the only one who eats the fruit.  There’s also vi, which is tasty.  And, sometimes I buy bananas and pineapple.  I also try to eat vegetables.  Cucumber, tuna and sweet chile sauce is really tasty and easy to make.

Having a house with electricity for my two burner hot plate, a fridge and a clean surface on which to store food and cook will enable me to have a healthier, better balanced diet, with more variety.  Meat options are very limited, though.  At the only “supermarket” in Salelologa, I’ve seen chicken legs/thighs and some fatty cuts of lamb.  I’m really hoping the rumor is true and they’ll be opening a Farmer Joe’s here.  At Christmas I bought a small piece of chuck steak at Farmer Joe’s for $7 tala.  Pricey, but I could have made a stew with it that would have been several meals. 

Why do you always keep your door closed?

To keep out the chickens and the puppy, who’s still leaving puddles throughout the house.

What kind of poop is that on your shirt?

I believe it’s lizard poop.  My clothes, along with everything else I own, is covered with poop.  Usually, it’s small and dry and I just shake it off. Sometimes it’s not and it’s messy.  I thought it was rat poop, but after a serious discussion over dinner the other night, we agreed that it was probably lizard poop, based on the color, size and texture.  Lizard poop, by the way, is not to be confused with gecko poop, which is similar but smaller and not as prevalent. 

Yes, we do discuss poop over meals.  We’ve also been known to discuss the appearance of scabs, infections and other issues we all face.  Sometimes we catch ourselves and move the conversation toward books, movies and other more appropriate topics.  Sometimes we don’t. 

Do you ever speak English?

I speak English most of the time.  People expect me to speak English and they like to show off their English, which works for me.  Plus, even though I’m still studying, my Samoan is still very limited.  I do speak some Samoan every day, though.  I’ll be speaking a lot more in school.

Do you ever watch television?

The family I live with has a TV in their fale, but I’m rarely in there.  I’ve watched a couple of movies on my laptop and I’ve listened to a few podcasts of “Wait, wait, don’t tell me” that I downloaded before I left home.  I wish I’d downloaded more.

Shockingly, since I was a world-class, TV watching, couch potato pre-PC, I don’t really miss TV.  For the last five minutes, for example, I’ve watched the puppy wrestle with the old dog, the puppy chase the chicken around the fale and the baby pigs run flat out through the rain.  Quite entertaining.

Are you going to write a book?

What, after reading this boring entry, you want more?  Yes, actually, I am planning to write a book.  I’m making notes now.  Have chatted with a publisher.  My current plan, which could change at any time, is to go around the world again when my two year service is up.  I’m planning to use my separation money from the PC to book a 4 month trip around the world on a freighter.  Lots of time at sea to write. 

The book will include a lot of stuff this blog doesn’t.  It will be more candid and will be about more than just the two years in Samoa, although that will be a big part of it.  Hopefully it will be funny and interesting.  I doubt it will get me an invitation to the White House or to be an ambassador.  I doubt if Oprah will put me on a list.  Dr. Phil may want to do an intervention, though.

My uncle always said he was going to write a book.  He was funny and a good writer, so I always hoped he’d talk about it less and write more.  He finished his book and self-published just before he died, in his mid-90’s.  I’m hoping it won’t take me that long.

 I was enjoying the shade of this tree, then glanced up.  Yes, those are coconuts, or as I like to think of them, death, waiting to fall on me.  Seriously, I have to be aware of falling coconuts. They weigh a ton and can cause serious damage.

Nice display of fa'i pula (ripe bananas) for sale just down the street. Yes, that's the ocean in the background.

Another Housing Update

 Beach fales near the house where I might someday live.

Yes, another housing update.  If you're sick of reading about it, you can only imagine how sick I am of living it.  I thought I was moving yesterday (Thursday).  The homeowner was supposed to arrive Wednesday.  I tried calling Wednesday evening and Thursday morning.  He didn't answer.  I walked to the house on Thursday. He had not arrived.  His mother is living there and seemed happy to see me and accept the gift of Koko Samoa that I brought.  I didn't bring up the issue of moving in.

I called PC to talk to either of the two people that can help with the situation.  Neither has returned my call.
The owners of the home where I've been staying were gracious about the change and said I could stay.  They do ask me, about every hour, if I've heard when I'll be moving.

It is awkward and frustrating.  There is nothing I can do but wait.  PC has told me that I should move in and    get settled before school starts in two weeks.  I'd be happy to oblige, if I could.

My bags are packed, yet again.  I'm ready to move, but have no idea when it will happen.  I ran into a woman yesterday who's on the school committee.  That's the group that applied to get a volunteer and is responsible for my living arrangements.  She said she doesn't think i should live in the new house.

I figure this is a great test of my patience and flexibility.  On Tuesday, I was flunking.  Today, I'm at about a C.  I'll keep working on it.  Until I'm moved, internet access requires 2 hours on a bus, so I'll keep you posted when I can.

P.S.  While I was in Apia this week, I did some shopping.  I scored some tea towels, throw rugs, pillow and the best thing ever - a small lamp.  It's a $27 luxury.  I refuse to spend two years with nothing but florescent lights.

It's the Little Things

 My favorite, very worn out, shoes.

We were told that PC can pretty much predict when volunteers are most likely to quit.  During training is the very common.  It’s hard, boring, everything is new and you have zero control over your life.  For many, that includes no control over bowels, thanks to new food and water.

We were warned that the next period that inspires PCV’s to head home is the one we’re in now.  The reality of what we’re in for is hitting home, yet we haven’t started teaching yet, so we don’t feel as if we’re contributing anything.

We were also told that sometimes it’s not the big stuff:  not having contemporaries with whom you can have a meaningful conversation, due to language and culture barriers; lack of modern conveniences that we take for granted, but the small things.  The PC described a letter one former volunteer wrote to explain why he was quitting.  His final line was something like “and the salt won’t come out of the salt shaker!”  Yes, he was serving in the Pacific region, where humidity reigns.

I’m not ready to quit, by a long shot.  But there are small things that are annoying.  I try to look beyond them or laugh at them, but sometimes it’s like having a very small pebble in your shoe.  Here are some of the small things that I find annoying.

A small pebble in my shoe.  I was walking back from the store, in my rubber flip flops and it felt like there was a rock in my shoe.  I shook it out.  It’s a flip flop for heaven’s sake, why is it still there?  Because, the paved roads are made of lava stones and loose pieces are sharp.  A small stone had embedded itself in my shoe, just deep enough to irritate every time I took a step. 

As I was silently whining, I heard a small, quiet voice saying “You’re lucky to be able to walk.”  I told the voice to shut the hell up. Sometimes it just feels good to feel sorry for myself.

Dirty feet.  I gave myself a pedicure the other night.  First, I took a shower and used a scrub brush on my feet.  The kind of wooden/nylon bristle brush I use for heavy scrubbing at home.  Then I soaked my feet in a tub of warm water for an hour.  I bought the tub just for this luxury and used my electric kettle to heat the water.  Then I used a cuticle brush on my toes.  Then I did all the other stuff that comes with a pedicure, including painting my toenails and lovely shade of red.  It helped to cover the dirt THAT WAS STILL ON MY TOES!  By the way, I don’t have a chair in my room.  Just the mattress on the floor.  To soak my feet, I laid on my back on the bed, knees bent, with my feet in the tub of water on the floor.  I fondly recall sitting in the massage chair at the salon while I got a pedicure.

Being told my Samoan isn’t very good.  I was reviewing a list of vocabulary words yesterday and proudly realized I know hundreds of words.  I also know how to construct basic sentences in multiple tenses, in both positive and negative forms.  I study Samoan at least an hour a day and take a giant step outside my comfort zone every day to try to use the language.  It’s disheartening, then, to have people respond by looking at me blankly and saying “Your Samoan is bad.”  Some are encouraging and acknowledge my efforts.  I try to remember that this is a culture in which children were routinely hit for answering a question incorrectly.  Mostly, I just want to poke the person with a sharp stick.

Crawly things.  Sorry, Jenny’s mom, but it’s the tropics and if you’re going to visit you need to be prepared for bugs.  Most of the time they don’t bother me. There are tiny ants everywhere, including inside my computer, where I suspect they are silently eating my motherboard.  They don’t bite, so I just brush them off and move on.  Yes, I eat food with ants on it.  There are lizards, there are also cockroaches.  I thought I had a rat in my room because of the scratching noises I heard every night.  I may, since I’ve found what looks like rat poop, but the sound was just herds of cockroaches.  Last night it was hot and humid and I couldn’t sleep.  I started counting bugs, instead of sheep.  I got up to five different varieties of bugs that I killed as they crawled on me before dozing off.  And that was inside my mosquito net. 

Carrying all my junk to the shower.  I shower once or twice a day.  I wash my clothes in a bucket in the shower, usually every other day.  When I do it means taking the following into the shower with me:

• ·         Shower caddy with personal items like soap, shampoo, etc.
• ·         Towel
• ·         Scrub brush for my feet
• ·         Bucket with dirty clothes and detergent
• ·         Clean bucket for rinsing and hauling clean clothes to line to dry
• ·         Cell phone, which has the key to my room attached
• ·         Set of clean clothes to change into after showering

I don’t mind carrying the stuff.  I mind forgetting an item.  I’ve been in the shower, all soaped up and realized I’ve forgotten my towel.  Or, I neglected to put a new bar of soap in my soap dish. Or, I have the dirty clothes, but forgot to put in the detergent.  The permutations are endless.  Going back to my room means a short walk through the open fale, in full view of the neighborhood. 

The small voice reminds me how lucky I am to have running water.  Shut the hell up, voice of reason.

Being awakened at all hours.  I love to sleep.  I’m crazy about that feeling of drifting into sleep.  I adore the feeling of just coming awake, when the world seems perfect and anything is possible.  I love to dream.  So I find it awesomely annoying to have those precious times interrupted, for no reason.  At home, we’re conditioned to whisper and move quietly if someone is sleeping in the house.  I can’t imagine friends in the same time zone calling me at 2 a.m. just to chat.  It’s different here in Samoa. 

I’ve seen everyone sleeping in the house, which is fairly easy to discern, since their bodies are scattered around the floor.  Someone will walk in, singing at the top of their lungs, or yelling at the dog or just asking how everyone is doing.  No one seems to mind, except perhaps me.

In the training village it happened several times.  Like me, my host sister was an early to bed, early to rise type.  One night, we’d retired for the evening, her to the living room floor, me to my bedroom.  About 2 a.m., I heard loud voices in the living room.  I wrapped myself in a lava lava and went to investigate, assuming something tragic had happened.

Nope, an aunt who lived nearby couldn’t sleep so she came over for a chat.  Since she couldn’t walk alone at night she’d called a young man of the family who lived in another house to get up and walk her over.  They made tea and stayed up until sunrise, laughing and talking, loudly.  I was in bed with the pillow over my head.

It’s the same here.  I’d retired about 10 p.m. to read.   Please note I’ve become conditioned to explain why I’m going to bed when I am.  I have yet to announce that I’m going to bed without someone questioning why, since it’s either too early or too late.  Anyway, there was a knock on my door at 2 a.m. Again, I assumed something horrible had happened.  Nope, just checking to see if I was sleeping. Yes, I was sleeping.  Why do you ask?  Just wondered. 

Everything is damp.  I live in Florida, so I know humid.  On a regular basis it doesn’t feel that humid here, although since I live about 2 inches away from the ocean, I know it must be.  What reminds me of the humidity is that everything feels perpetually damp. I’ll take dry clothes off the line, fold them neatly and stack them in their appointed suitcase (have I mentioned how ready I am to NOT be living out of suitcases?)  When I rummage through each morning to select which of my stunning outfits I’ll wear that day, they’re all damp.  How did that happen?  They were dry yesterday when I folded them.  Then I put on my glasses.  They’re covered with a faint film of salt mist.  Just like my clothes

Small annoyances.  I had them in the States, too.   Usually, it helps to listen to the small voice and put them in perspective.  Other times, like today, it helps to wallow in self-pity and allow myself to be annoyed. 

I’m off to annoy others now by speaking to them in my bad Samoan.

 My kitchen and office.  That's my water filter on the right (the white buckets), my stove top and frying pan and computer.  It's open air and where I write these brilliant entries.

The shower and buckets I use for my laundry.  They cost $15 tala each and used to hold lard.

 My bed, where I sleep, read and give myself pedicures.

I've Got Mail!

I forgot to mention in the previous post that I received mail yesterday.  It was the first time in a month.  I have the best friends in the world.  Three of us sat in the lounge in the PC office and it was like Christmas morning.  We'd all gotten packages.  I got a huge package from Kia and Michael.  It had a motherlode of school supplies, the world's largest bag of Skittles, M&M's and enough Crystal Lite to keep me happy for months.  Also, wonderful photos.  D - your exercise program is really working - you look great.  Thanks, guys.  I really appreciate it.   Kia, this does not mean that I'll stop flirting with your husband.  Poolboy is all mine!

I got a small package from Nan, stuffed full of wonderfulness.   Stickers, stick on alphabet, photos, two excellent stories that she wrote and illustrated.  They'll be perfect for teaching English.  The best part of that package was the Lindt dark chocolate bar with chile.  Yum. 

Ralph and Mary Lou sent some of the stuff I tried to pack but had to jettison due to weight restrictions on the luggage I could bring here, along with some special treats they included.  The best thing is the crystal.  My mom always had a crystal hanging in her kitchen window.  I've had one for years.  When the light hits it it throws rainbows around the room.  It makes me smile and I think of my mom every time I look at it.  Ralph and ML have one in their kitchen window.  Each of their daughters has a crystal in their homes.  It makes me happy to know that my mom, Evelyn, lives on, even though she passed away in 1983.  The new crystal will hang in the window over the bathroom sink in the area I'm making into a kitchen.  Mom would love it.

Donna - thanks for the Nyquil and Tylenol PM.  They use Panadol here for colds.  Good for headaches, doesn't due a thing to help a cold.  I've had two since I've been here.  Lots of reasons, including added stress of life in a new country.  This is will be helpful.  Thanks!

And, special thanks to Granny T for the crosswords.  I've still got a lot of free time on my hands and the puzzles help keep me happy and keep my brain from molding.

Yesterday and today there were a lot of our group in the office.  All with mail, many with packages.  You have no idea how it lifts the spirits to get something from home.  A photo, news, no matter how old and goodies are so much appreciated and remind us that the people we miss so much are missing and loving us.

Thanks to the best friends in the world.

Update on Savaii

Hello, from Apia.  I came into town yesterday to meet with PC and my new homeowner and spent a lovely evening having dinner with friends, followed by a stay at a wonderful, clean, air conditioned hotel.  Still a cold shower, but who cares?

Because I'm in an internet cafe that doesn't allow my flashdrive (or thumb drive or whatever you want to call it) rather than a succintly written, brilliant and humorous entry that I'd written previously, along with some great photos, you're getting an on-the-fly update.  Please bear with me.

It's been a roller coaster week.  Saturday I visited the new house and talked to the sister who lives next door.  She repeatedly talked about "if" I live there, which made me think that it might not happen.  I was angry, frustrated and sad.  Then out of the blue Saturday night, the homeowner showed up on my doorstep to tell me that since I'm so anxious to move in, that I could as of Monday, if I was willing to have the renovations completed while I live there.  Yes!  I went to sleep with visions of nesting and decorating in my head.

Monday, I showed up at the new house to clean.  Seems there was a tiny misunderstanding and the homeowner's mother, a very elderly woman (even older than me!) wasn't aware that I'd be moving in.  And, she was staying in the house.  It was awkward, at best.

Yesterday, I met with PC and the homeowner and I thought things were ironed out.  Right up until the end of the meeting, when PC suggested that I stay where I am for the time being.  Huh?  I'm holding the locks you just gave me for the door.  He just agreed to install them Thursday.  What did I miss?  Long story, but after another meeting, without the homeowner, I'll be moving in Thursday.  I think.  I've come to understand, however, that communication and planning are different here, so I'll know I'm moving when I'm actually sleeping there.  On the floor, without electricity in all but one room, but alone.  Privacy.  It will be good.

In talking with the PC staff yesterday I was emotional.  They were uncomfortable.  As they said, "We figured of all the group, you'd have the least issues since you seem so "together". Yeah, I'm a "together" kinda gal, but I'm also human.

I described some of the things that have been happening in my village.  I tried to explain that I don't need their help or want them to do anything.  I was fine, just emotional.   I tried to explain how overwhelming it is to have everything be new.  To walk on egg shells at all times.  To speak in a foreign language.  To not understand what people are saying or asking of me.  It's not bad, it's just a lot.  Other volunteers are feeling it to.  I don't expect it to change any time soon.

I also explained that I have coping mechanisms.  Like dinner last night, where I started the evening with a shot of Tequila.  Lovely. I ate great food, in a beautiful setting, with excellent conversation and lots of laughing.  Then I slept IN A BED! In an entire fale, all by myself.  I got up alone and went to breakfast.  All by myself.  I had a pleasant conversation with the hotel owner, who gave me a hug and invited me back.

I'm feeling refreshed and ready to head back to Savaii.  The entry I was going to post today was about little annoyances.  It really is the accumulation of very small things that get to me.  For example, I was told I should be on the road yesterday at 5:30 a.m. to wait for the bus in order to catch the 8 a.m. ferry. At 5:00 a.m. there was a knock on my door, asking if I was ready.  I was, only because I woke up early.  Anyway, they dropped me off on the street on their way to prayer meeting.  I waited for the bus, alone in the dark, in a rainstorm.  For two hours.  Seems the busses don't start until 7.

Yup, it's the little things. 

Photos

I've had some problems recently uploading photos, so here are some that would have gone with previous entries.  Enjoy the beauty of Samoa.

Group 83 at our Swearing In ceremony, December 17, 2010

This was in the training village.  It was the day before our interviews and I was a mess.  I just wanted to find a quiet place to study alone.  Impossible.  Her mom brought me a snack (because that's what we do in Samoa) and left for bingo.  This two year old was alone, as far as I could see and determined to fix her overalls.  She was having none of letting me help.

Most Samoan "houses" consist of several fales.  This is typical of the fale you'll see in front of the house where the family lives.  It's called a faletalimalo, or guest house.  It's used for meetings, special occasions and it's where guests sleep.  Fales like this usually have electricity.

The view near the waterfall I visited with Ruta.

The cutie carrying clean laundry that his mom had just washed in the river.

Me and Ruta at the beach fale by the house where she grew up.  She's now a nurse in Wellington.

That's Ruta, in the foreground.  Fighting for space on New Year's Eve day at the beach.

My village is so large it has "sub-villages".  This is the one where I'll be living.  That's the main road that goes around the island, and the view from my house. So disappointed I wasn't sent to Central Asia, where there's a foot of snow.

The Church in Samoa

The Catholic church in my village.

The church plays a key role in the life of Samoans. While America struggles with “In God We Trust”, Samoa is proud to be a nation based on God. The country is 99% Christian, with a few Jews, Bahais and a small Muslim community. There are Catholics, Mormons, Methodists, FEKS (Congregational), Assembly of God, Seventh Day Adventist, Voice of Christ and more. Most villages, like mine, have a variety of denominations. Some villages have ruled that only one denomination is allowed.

Prior to the arrival of the first missionaries, there were a number of extended families on Samoa. Each had their own high chief and each had their own god. That was problematic, since the god of one family might be the octopus and other families were catching and eating octopus. There was no shared religion or god among all the aiga (families).

There is a very long story about the arrival of the first missionaries and their acceptance here. The Reader’s Digest version is that the most powerful high chief at the time had a vision that a white man would burst from the clouds and bring a new religion for all the families. So, when the first white missionary arrived from England, he was perceived to be the “cloud burster” or palagi.

The chief told everyone that this person was fulfilling his vision and should be treated with the almost the same respect and reverence as the high chief himself. Without his support, Christianity would have had a much more difficult time taking root in Samoa.

Every day in the public schools the day starts with prayer, hymns and bible study for 30-60 minutes. Every meeting I’ve attended, including every Peace Corps training session begins with a prayer. Prayers, by the way, may be spoken or sung. The church here is not just someplace you go on Sundays, but an integral part of village life. The pastor has tremendous influence with the matais (village chiefs) as they set and enforce rules for the village.

The church also seems to be the primary source of activity and entertainment for the community. On New Year’s Eve, I described seeing every church packed for the middle of the night services. The youth groups are very strong and provide a variety of things to keep the young people engaged and out of trouble. They perform choreographed dances and songs at every Sunday night service, as well as other events. That means multiple practices during the week. They also do ad hoc fund raisers, another way to keep the many youth of the village out of trouble and having fun.

The parade last week to raise money was an example. In the training village, the Methodist youth showed up every Saturday morning to raise money. Sometimes they asked for a donation in return for cleaning up the yard. Other times they brought food for sale. That was my personal favorite. If you ever see a gang of Samoan teenagers headed toward you, singing and carrying a huge kettle, get out a few tala and prepare yourself for a taste treat. The Methodists in Sataoa made the best koko alaisa I’ve had yet. That’s a great breakfast treat made of cooked rice, coconut cream, sugar and freshly roasted cocoa paste.

The two families I’ve lived with so far have both attended Assembly of God. That’s just a coincidence, since AOG is not the largest denomination on the island. They both attend church frequently. Sundays in the training village started with a 3 hour morning service followed by a 3-4 hour evening service. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays included a 3 hour evening prayer service. Saturday mornings at 5 a.m. brought another 3 hour prayer service. If you were in the choir or the youth group, that meant several more multi-hour sessions.

The church schedule in my current village isn’t exactly the same, but close. The Sunday morning service is only an hour and a half or so and the prayer nights are a bit different, but the time commitment is essentially the same.

In addition to attending church, there are other obligations for church members. Something that seems to be done at all denominations is that at the beginning of every Sunday morning service, someone announces each family’s financial contribution to the church for the week. From my understanding, that contribution is in addition to the money placed in the collection basket.

Families also seem to take turns preparing food for the faife’au and his family. From what I’ve seen the best and most expensive foods are saved to be giving to the pastor. You can usually tell which house belongs to the pastor in each village. It is usually close to the church and generally one of the nicest houses in the village. It is provided and maintained by members of the church.

We could have a lively debate about what the role of the church should be in any society. We could also discuss the potential for corruption and abuse of power by those in a position of authority, like a pastor in a village.

What’s clear is that the church, along with family, are fundamental in fa’a Samoa, the Samoan way.

This lady is quite a dancer and won the machete at the asiasiga for growing so much taro.