Interview

Just for fun (still bored) I decided to do this entry as an interview.  I’m pretending to be on a talk show.  I spent some relaxing time in the green room and now the cameras are rolling….

How was your day?  Anything out of the ordinary happen?

It was just a typical day during the final week of the term.  At 8:00 a.m., when school is scheduled to start there were just three of us teachers in attendance.  Although, as the kids pointed out, there were only two teachers.  “What about me?” I asked?  “You’re not a teacher.  You’re a Peace Corps!”  Wish I had my B.S. in Elem. Ed diploma to show them.

We had assembly, which we never do on Wednesdays, usually.  During assembly the principal talked about dividing the school into houses.  I know that means dividing the kids into teams for sports day.  Presumably, tomorrow.

After assembly my boss pointed out that the Year 7 teacher wasn’t coming to school so I should take his class.  I had one hour to teach them a poem or song about mothers to perform on Friday.  He said it would be good if I also gave songs and poems about Mother’s Day to all the other teachers. My inability to come up with 8 songs/poems on the spot is another indication of my deficiencies as a teacher.

I quickly wrote a poem and taught it to Year 7 then we broke for another assembly to discuss Sports Day.  I was assigned to coach one of the teams.  My co-coach is due to have a baby today.  I told her she wasn’t allowed to have it until Sports Day was over.

At 11:00 a.m. all the teachers from the district were supposed to come to practice for the Independence Day march.  The kids had brought 66 niu as refreshments.  But only about 15 teachers showed up so the practice was cancelled.

All in all, just a typical day at school.

Why were your neighbors laughing this afternoon when you went to buy a soda at their store?

They weren’t laughing at me, really.   They were laughing because the 1 year old screams in terror every time she sees me.  She’s seen me every day since she was born.  I’ve never hurt her.  I always smile and speak quietly to her.  But she’s still scared to death of me.  Everyone thinks it’s funny.  She started screaming and crying when she saw me coming so an older child took her away.   They brought her back a few minutes later and repeated the scene.  Funny stuff.

Why are there children running full speed back and forth in front of your fale?

I’m not sure, but I think they’re practicing for sports day tomorrow.  They’ll be representing their teams in the 100 meter race.   Same thing with the kids leaping around the yard in 50 kg rice bags from Vietnam.  They’re practicing for the sack race.

We heard you typed the 2011 school report yesterday.

Yes, I did.  I also helped write it, since it was in English.  The beginning of the report thanked different people and organizations for things they’d given the school.  At my suggestion, they agreed to put something in to thank the United States Peace Corps for sending a volunteer.  Having a full-time volunteer teacher ranked third, after desks from the Mormons and books from Australia, New Zealand and the United States.  I had to remind them that the U.S. sent books.  I was described (I did not write this part) as pretty and intelligent.   I suggested we add “sexy” but that was turned down.   My skills with typing and the copy machine were highly praised.

Frankly, you sound a bit cranky.  Are you enjoying the PC experience?

Actually, I am a bit cranky.  Mostly because I’m bored.  When I get to teach every day, I enjoy it.  The time passes quickly and I feel like I’m making a difference.  Days like today, though, drag.  I’m glad I joined the Peace Corps.  I’m glad I came to Samoa.  Do I get frustrated, cranky and bored sometimes?  You bet, but isn’t that true of every job?  Plus, it’s only a few days before vacation and I’m just ready to be out of here for awhile. 

Photos?

I just spent another 3+ hours trying to upload photos.  Screw that.  When I'm in New Zealand I'll give it a shot when I have access to high speed internet.  Unless, of course, I'm too busy having fun.  No guarantees.

In the meantime, I can tell you about the last day or so.  Let's see.  Thundering herds.  That's what I heard (have I mentioned bad puns make me laugh?)   The other evening, several pigs had taken up residence in front of my house, making the piggy noises they make when they're hungry. 

Here's the only way I can describe it to you.  You know when you are a woman of a certain age?  And you slip past the "Gee, I'm a little hungry." stage to the "Give me the fucking food or I'll kill you!" stage?  The way we're feeling is exactly how the pigs sound.  Very loud and very ornery. 

The pigs were at the latter stage in front of my house as I cooked dinner.  I was making faux nachos so I didn't care if there was a nuclear bomb attack happening.  I was focused on Doritos, cheese and hamburger with taco seasonings.  I told you it was faux.  But those are prized ingredients in Samoa and very expensive.  Don't criticize.

The next thing I knew I heard a thundering herd.  With growls and squeals.  It was my three dogs chasing 9 pigs.  It was loud.  It was powerful.  It was hysterical.  Really, when will I ever have dogs chasing pigs off my front porch again?

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

P.S.  I tried to explain why a Mexican Independence Day was celebrated in the United States.  Because we like any excuse for a party?  Because we love nachos and Mexican beer?  Sole, le iloa (Dude, I don't know.)

Photos

I met a very nice Australian couple today at church and we chatted for a bit afterward.  This was their second trip to Samoa.  We talked about traveling in general and in particular about their current vacation.  They said it was the day-to-day stuff that the locals (and I) take for granted.  Seeing someone weave the palm baskets that are used here instead of large plastic baskets.  Seeing someone climb a palm tree and open a fresh coconut.

I'll try to take more photos of the stuff that I've become used to.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these photos.

I just spent almost two hours on-line trying to upload photos.  Just as they were almost done, they disappeared.  I hope someone in cyber space is enjoying them.  Rats!

Bored!

Written on a hot afternoon on May 4,2012

It’s 4:37 p.m. on Friday afternoon.  I’ve been swatting flies and trying to kill the mosquitoes that for some reason decided to descend during daylight hours today.  I’m bored.  I’m listening to two of my “cousins” next door sing while they make the fire for dinner.  I’m also listening to my brother sing as he makes the fire to cook dinner for my family.  They are each 20 feet away from me and singing different songs.  At the top of their lungs.  I’m considering chiming in with a third song.  Because I’m bored.

My day started as usual, at school at 7 a.m. but I left school at 9:00 a.m. to come home and heat up the chicken rice soup I’d made for the teachers.   I arranged to have two Year 8 boys come to take the giant pot of hot soup back to the school.  I offered them each a bowl, which they cheerfully accepted.  One was poking through my food, asking who it was for.  Yes, it is all for me.  He wanted the cookies.  I gave each boy a small packet of cookies before they left.  One tore his open with his teeth and spit the pieces of paper on the floor.  I suggested he throw them away. 

I have nothing to do at school.  Yes, I could substitute for the Year 3 teacher who is on maternity leave.  Or the Year 8 teacher who didn’t come to school today.  Or the Year 7 teacher who came an hour after school started and left an hour before it was over.  But I’m here to teach English, not to be a substitute teacher.    I did hold detention for some Year 8 students and gave an assignment for the Year 7 students before I left to heat the soup.  I planned to take them for the day if their teacher didn’t show.  Surprising to the Samoan teachers, they really prefer to be busy.  And this particular class is considered “at risk”.  They are slower learners and love the educational games I play with them.  Relay race to write the alphabet?  What could be more fun?

I also did some lesson planning for next term and gave copies to the Year 7 teachers.  They couldn’t understand why I was planning for next term.

As is typical on Friday’s, we dismissed school early, after an hour long recess.  I lingered at school but was still home by 12:30.  I was accompanied by 7 boys.  Some were carrying my stuff, others were just hanging around.  One of the boys used the “sh**” word.  That’s the third time I’ve heard it in a week.  They clearly know it is swearing.  I plan to raise the issue with my boss next week.  I mentioned to him this morning that a girl from another school flipped me off when she saw me on the bus.  Isn’t it fun what America teaches kids by way of movies and music videos?

I planned to go swimming after school but it was rainy.  Then sunny, which means steamy.  Then rainy.  Now, it is clear and hot, with no breeze.  Every time I turn on my fan I am grateful I have it.  It is the best $75 USD investment I’ve ever made and if/when it breaks, I will be at the store to buy another ASAP.  I didn’t have a fan (no electricity) for my first 8 months.  What a difference it makes.

I asked my 19 year old sister how her day was.  “Boring.”  Yeah, I get it.  Imagine living in a town of a few hundred.  No television.  No restaurants.  No car.  Just work, chores and napping.  At least I read.  If I didn’t have books I would go crazy.  Samoan women weed for entertainment.  They do it in groups so they can gossip as they weed.  I just can’t get into it. 

I was looking forward to watching dance practice but then realized they don’t have it on Friday nights.  Bummer.  I will miss the evening live entertainment.

I took a walk.  That burned some time.  But when I walk people want to know why.  Where am I going?  The concept of just walking for pleasure and exercise is lost on most Samoans.  Admittedly I was right there with them when I lived in the land of air conditioning and cars.  Now, walking is not only necessary, it’s a break from boredom. 

Soon, it will be late enough to make dinner – what a surprise, chicken and carrots again!  Thank God I like chicken and carrots.  It will also be time for my evening shower. 

I think part of my boredom is because I’m anticipating vacation.  A week from tomorrow I leave for Upolu.  After a night there, I fly to Auckland for three glorious weeks.  I plan to shop (not buying, just shopping), eat salads, cheese and mussels and go to movies.  With any luck I’ll also get a ticket to see Jersey Boys.  No one will be watching me.   Everyone will speak English.  There will be hot showers and clean sheets.  There won’t be rats on my bed or bugs everywhere.  I can’t wait.

Photos!

I've been very bad about including photos and I apologize.  With dial up it's an exercise in frustration.  But if you go to this link you can see where I swim often.  The photos say Faga Beach, which is technically true.  But Faga has five sub-villages and this is in Lu'ua.  It's about a five minute walk from my house. 

Tomorrow I'll try to put up some photos I've taken recently.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the view of the lagoon as much as I do.  I swam there today and laughed as a car full of palagis drove by, videotaping the beach as they went by. 

Siva!

One of the perks of living in the village is the chance to see “authentic” singing and dancing.  Sure, you can see a cool culture show at a resort but I prefer it local.

As I was typing the last post I was listening to the traditional drums.  I know from having watched it that the youth group was doing a “sasa” dance to the beat of the drums.  It is dancers sitting in rows, cross-legged,  playing a very advanced form of group patty cake to the beat of the drums.  It’s fun to watch and requires rhythm and a great memory.  The dance is over five minutes long of intricate slapping and hand motions.

I’m currently listening to a “hymn” and watching the kids dance.  I put hymn in quotes because I don’t know of any church in the States that has hymns this up tempo.    If they did, attendance might improve.  The Samoan hymns make Reggae sound a bit dirge-like.  Every once in awhile the emcee (also known as the pastor) yells “Siva!”  which means “Dance!”

All the youth break from the choreographed dance to go free form.  Last night I was watching rehearsal from the small bus fale at the school.  A bunch of kids had joined me and when the pastor yelled “Siva”, the youngest ones went crazy, dancing themselves silly.  Since I’m so darned young at heart, I busted out a few moves of my own.  That made the dancers stare in amazement and the older kids laugh like hyenas.

The big church event for which they’ve been practicing for months starts in a couple of weeks.  The same time I’ll be leaving for New Zealand.  I’ll miss the evening musical entertainment.

Sex

Sex is a hot topic of conversation in Samoa.  Among other volunteers and Samoans of all ages. We live on an island with only 2 television channels.  And it’s hot here.  Lots of bare chests and amazing abs.  Shapely young women wearing nothing but wet, almost sheer cotton.  Gauguin did not just fall in love with the tropics for the colors.

I may have told you the story of when I asked my fellow teachers how they had sex.  One woman, my age, immediately began to give me graphic, step-by-step instructions.  What with me never having married, surely I’m a virgin and unaware.  I quickly told her I’d read a book and had the general idea.

What I wanted to know was where.  How do you have sex when you sleep in a house surrounded by relatives of all ages?   “Quietly”, was one answer.   “Under a mat” was another.  “In the plantations, under a banana plant” was one of the most popular.

I hung out for awhile with some other volunteers recently and the subject of sex came up.  I asked them about the “where”.  Hotels, obviously.   But that’s expensive and not convenient to take a local to another town to a hotel.  Especially since you will both be recognized and reputations impugned.  Plantations and the beach were other answers. 

Plantations or beach means choosing between mosquitoes or sand.  Perhaps my libido isn’t what I think it is when the thought of walking a mile up a dark road to do it on the ground in the bushes accompanied by millions of biting insects is such a turn off.  And I confess.  I’ve lived out my “From Here To Eternity” fantasy and I recommend it remain only a fantasy.  Beaches mean sand and sand fleas.  Sand is a lot like sand paper.  Need I go further with this?

A couple of us talked about where we live.  My house is in the back of the compound.  You come here and everyone knows it.  Plus, it is almost all windows.  “Fine mats.  Cover the windows with fine mats.”  Ok, that would give privacy but wouldn’t it be a bit obvious to all 20 or so family members in the compound that I’ve got a guy in my house and all the windows sealed?  To say nothing of the possibility of heat stroke?

Given health issues here, combined with the age factor, I’d have to not only worry about STD’s and heart attacks but heat stroke?  Not a turn on.