People

Me and the principal of the school where we did our teaching practicum.

Before I begin today’s entry, a quick update.  Today the Peace Corps will meet with the man who owns the house I thought I was moving into on Saturday.  Since renovations need to be made and it’s the holiday season, that may take awhile.  So, I heard from the family that I stayed with on my visit to Savaii that I’ll be staying with them for awhile.  Hopefully no more than a month or two, before the house is ready.  Staying with another host family will help me work on my Samoan and also meet more people in the village.  But, as you can imagine, I’m more than ready to be in a home of my own, and not living out of a suitcase.  Hopefully, I’ll be in my own place before school starts on January 31.

Now, onto the blog….

People are people, all over the world.  We laugh and cry.  Get angry and fight.  Mother’s love to be told their babies are beautiful.  But there are some differences.  Today, I’ll focus on the differences I’ve noticed between Samoans and Americans.  

Americans are direct.  Samoans aren’t.

This is so true that we had a class yesterday on dealing with ambiguity.  Samoans don’t like to say no.  Is a bus coming soon?  Maybe. Even if they don’t have a clue or a bus isn’t due for hours.  I think this will be one of my greatest frustrations here.  Here’s an example. 

My first night with my what will now be my new host family in Savaii, they asked what time we should leave for school the next morning.  Since I didn’t know what time school started or how long it would take to get there, I didn’t know when we should leave.  “What time do you think we should leave?”  I asked?  “Whenever you want.”  “What time do we need to be there?”  “Whenever you think is best.”  “When do you usually leave?”  “That doesn’t matter, we’ll go whenever you think is best.”  Thankfully, the man of the house stepped in and in a very un-Samoan way said “We’re leaving at 7.”  Thank goodness.  That discussion could have gone on for days.

Also, if you upset or offend someone, they won’t tell you.  But they will tell everyone else.  So rather than saying “It’s rude to sit with your feet pointed at anyone.”  They’ll tell the village about how rude the new Pisi Koa is and you’ll hear about it from a random five year old who hasn’t learned to be indirect.

Samoans Whistle.

Samoans whistle, really loudly.  I mean earsplitting, hear it in the next village loud.  They use it to get someone’s attention.  Or just for fun.  Like most Americans, I whistle occasionally.  Just a quiet tune.  I’ve also heard Americans do the fingers in the mouth, loud whistle.  But it doesn’t compare with the Samoan whistle.  And no fingers are involved.

Americans are Competetive.  Samoans Not So Much.

Samoa has a collective culture.  They do everything together. And they support each other, in everything.  We’ve learned that will be a bit of a challenge in teaching, since the norm is to copy off the paper of the best student in the class.  It’s not viewed as cheating – just helping to make sure everyone gets the right answer.

On the bus back from Apia one evening I asked the 18 year old sitting in my lap (have I mentioned the busses are crowded?) who the best volleyball player in his village was.  “Volley” as they call it, is a big deal here and they play it every night.  Now, I haven’t talked to a teenager on a bus in the States lately, let alone one sitting on my lap, but I believe if I’d asked an American boy that question the answer would have been “Me!”.  Not the Samoan kid.  His response, with no hesitation, was “We’re all really good.”

I think we could learn a bit from the Samoans on this issue.

Americans Yell.  Samoans Mouth.

When we want to attract someone’s attention and they’re standing away from us, we yell.  I’ve heard entire conversations being yelled across a crowded room, on a plane, in a store, etc.  We don’t care that there are other people around, we just want to get across our message.

Samoans, on the other hand, just mouth the words silently, so as not to disturb all the other people in the vicinity.  I’ve witnessed it on buses, in a store and on the street.

I think we should learn from the Samoans on this issue, too.

Mine vs. Ours.

We’re all about the individual in America.  We use the word “my” a lot.  In Samoa, it’s about “us” and “ours”.  We had a session during training during which we were warned that small items are likely to go missing from our homes and at school.  Pens, cd’s, jewelry, etc.  It’s not considered stealing here or even borrowing.  It’s just the view that stuff isn’t yours or mine, it’s just ours.  And if you happen to have cooler stuff than I do, I’ll be wearing “our” necklace for the forseeable future.  Yes, it’s happened to me.

On this issue, I’m a firm believer in “Mine! Keep your mitts off.”

We Talk.  Samoans Give Speeches.

My personal theory on this is that because of the slow pace of life here, Samoans fill up the time with words.  Not in every conversation, but in more formal settings like ava ceremonies, church and class, Samoans seem to have a habit of turning what could be a two minute statement into a ten minute statement by saying something, then saying it again in a different way and then saying it in yet another way, then telling you what they just told you.  Heaven’s knows I talk a lot.  I have more words to share than I need.  But by Samoan standards, I’m the strong silent type.

I’ll give the nod to the Americans on this one.

Americans are Loud.  Samoans Speak Softly.

It’s usually easy to tell if there’s an American in the room.  They’re the ones who talk louder than everybody else.  I’ve seen it in every country I’ve visited.  In a restaurant there may be a quiet hum of conversation and then the booming voice of the American.  Samoans seem to speak even more softly than most, which makes our loudness even more obvious.

I lost most of the hearing in one ear the week I arrived.  Between that, the Samoan habit of speaking softly and the fact that most words sound very similar, it’s a challenge.

Americans Don’t Talk With Their Eyebrows.  Samoans Do.

Sure, every once in awhile we’ll see or hear something that raises an eyebrow.  In the normal course of conversation, though, Americans don’t use their eyebrows.  Samoans, on the other hand, can communicate without sound by using their eyebrows.  It’s fascinating to watch and an easy habit to pick up.

My first few days here, I thought my language teacher had a tic.  Then I realized that she only “tic’d”  when she was listening to me.  I found out it’s a way of expressing agreement and demonstrating that you’re paying attention.  If they really agree, the eyebrows will be going up and down a lot, really fast. 

No opinion on this one, but I hope you like it, since I’ll be “eyebrow talking” for the next two years and it will be a hard habit to break.

Yes, I actually do teach!

Palusami - young taro leaves wrapped around coconut cream and baked. Not too pretty but really tasty.

Since You Asked...

The view I ignored every day.

Ok, technically, you didn’t ask, but I decided to answer questions that I had before coming here.

What’s the weather like? It’s hot, sort of.  If you’re in the shade, with a breeze, it’s usually pleasant.  I say usually because there were a few days in the training fale that by late afternoon it was hot.  Surface of the sun, melting our skin hot.  On those days, walking home in the sun was not pleasant and my clothes were drenched in sweat by the time I got there.  On most days, it’s Florida-in-the-summer hot.  Kind of cool in the mornings and evenings, but hot and muggy during the day.  It rains every day or two.  Usually at night or early in the morning, but sometimes during the day.  It cools things off until the sun comes out ten minutes later and ramps up the humidity again. 

Do you like the people?  Yes.  Like anyplace else, there are some I connect with more than others, but overall the people are very friendly and warm.  Respect is hugely important here, including respect for age.  That works in my favor, as does being a Palagi.  I get a seat on the bus, even when it’s full.  Like last week, when the bus was already over-filled at the beginning of the route where I got on.  A guy about my age whacked a guy in his 30’s in the head because he didn’t immediately jump up to give me his seat.  The whackee then jumped up, smiling, to offer me his seat.  I think he was sleeping when I stepped on the bus or he would have offered his seat immediately.

What is fa’a Samoa?  It’s the Samoan way.  Samoan culture.  Tradition.  And it’s extremely important here.  I met a Samoan guy on the street last week (did I mention Samoans are friendly?) and as we chatted he commented that other Pacific Islanders tend to get a touch annoyed with Samoans.  They few them as arrogant because they’re always going on about fa’a Samoa and how strong their culture and traditions are.  I don’t know about that, but it is strong.

In another entry I’ll try to explain my understanding of village structure.  The roles and structure that come with fa’a Samoa are very powerful.  For example, there’s really no police presence on the island except in the two cities (Apia, on Upolu and Salelologa on Savaii) except for traffic patrols.  And there doesn’t seem to be a need.  It all goes back to respect.

For example, I’ve been told by numerous people that the leaders of my village will enact a “law” when I arrive, letting the villagers know that they are not allowed to harm me or my stuff.  If they do, there could be a fine of 200 pigs. Normally it would be more like 50 pigs but because I’m old, white and a Pisi Koa, I’m more respected.  That means if someone decides they want my laptop and steal it from my fale, their whole family will have to come up with the pigs to give to the village leaders.  For some families, that would mean having to go to the bank for a loan to be able to buy that many pigs.  Rather than pay the fine, they’ll do everything they can to make sure the black sheep of their family doesn’t come near my stuff.  If he/she does, they’ll turn the village upside down looking for my things so they can be returned before the fine is levied.

If you’re thinking “yeah, right”, there have been numerous examples.  In one case, someone stole a camera and IPod from a volunteer.  He found them on his front porch, no worse the wear a few days later.

The downside of the respect and protection is that is that it can be a bit stifling.  For example, I’m not allowed to go out at night alone.  Anywhere.  I wasn’t allowed to walk to the plantation because it was too hard for someone of my advanced age and decrepit physical condition.   I’m hoping that as they get to know me in my training village, they’ll realize that although I’m Samoan sized and have grey hair, I’m pretty fit and capable.

How great is it to live so close to the ocean?  I grew up in the desert in Arizona.  We used to go to the beach in Mexico every year on vacation.  I’ve always dreamed of living on an island.  Thanks, Peace Corps.  But the ocean almost seems incidental.  The locals don’t get as excited as I do about the beautiful views.  And even though you could see the ocean from our training fale, I didn’t really notice.  I was too busy trying to figure out why “o” was used to start one sentence and “e” was used to start another.  Sort of like the time I had an office on the 23^rd floor of a building in San Francisco.  Beautiful view of the city and the bay, but I was always too busy to notice.

It really is true.  Wherever you go, there you are.

What’s the food like?  Bland.  Starchy.  Unhealthy. And, I’m enjoying it.  Because most people have very little money, they eat what they raise.  They raise mostly root crops like taro.  Bananas and breadfruit run a close second.  They eat these either roasted in the outdoor oven (umu) or boil it.  In the meals I’ve had, Samoans don’t use many spices.  My sister used a lot of “salt”, which I discovered was actually MSG.  They sell it in large bags here.  For those who are horrified, I remember my mom using it liberally when I was a kid.  It was quite popular back in the day. 

Beyond the starchy veggies, though, that make up the bulk of the diet, there are some great treats.  I came home one night to “meat balls.”  Well, they looked and smelled like meatballs, but were actually mackerel balls.  I don’t know how she did it, but Fa used some flour, onions and a can of mackerel to make a delicious dish.  Several of the other trainees also tasted it, so I assume it’s a traditional dish. 

I’m also a big fan of the seafood. Tui Tui (or Kui Kui, in the K language, which is a whole different blog topic) is fabulous.  Raw sea urchin, fresh from the sea.  I also love the limu, which is crunchy and salty.  Palusami, made from young taro leaves and coconut cream is good.  I liked dipping the breadfruit in it.

And even though most traditional foods are bland,  they grow some really spicy red chilis.  One of the volunteers showed me how she fills a small bottle with vinegar and the small hot chilis and lets it marinate, then uses it to spice up the taro, etc.

Class is ready to start to I’ll close for now.  Happy Aso Lua (Tuesday)

By the way – as bad as my Samoan is, I’m trying to use it.  After class yesterday I walked a few miles in the sun to do some shopping.  I successfully bought a cool necklace (the one I bought in New Zealand years ago disappeared) and a pineapple.  All in Samoan.  Then, I took a cab back.  Negotiated price and gave my destination in Samoan.  I’m quite proud of myself.

The cab driver and I started speaking in English and he told me he’d been to San Bernadino recently, where he’d lived for years. He gave me his number and asked me to come for dinner and a stay of a day or two sometime.  He and his wife love to talk with Americans, to reminisce about their time there and refresh their English.  Did I mention that Samoans are friendly?

The foal I saw every morning on my way to school.

Haves and Have Nots

The view I had from my shower every morning.  Balanced out the shock of the cold water.

When I applied to the Peace Corps I was obsessed with finding out about food and living conditions.  Just in case any one else is similarly obsessed and Googling, here’s what we have/don’t have in PC Samoa:

What We Have in Apia:

Apia is the capital of Samoa and has pretty much everything you need.  At the hotel we have electricity, hot water, beds and WIFI.  The WIFI is $19 per hour or $50 tala for five hours.  That’s a major chunk of change for a PC trainee.

There’s a kitchen we can use in the hotel, although it has a limited supply of pans/dishes, etc.  Handy way to save some money, though.  I typically cook for myself a few nights a week and eat in for most lunches.

There’s a MacDonald’s in Apia (and, according to rumors, another one is going to be built on Savaii) along with a variety of other restaurants.  I had pizza last night.  Because it was our first night back and my first Palagi food in six weeks, I blew $24 on pizza and beer.  Worth every seine.

I’ve heard there’s a good Indian restaurant and I’m hoping to try that this week.  I’ve tried two different Chinese restaurants.  One was so-so, the other was pretty good.  Prices are a bit steep, but the portions at the good place were huge.

HOLY CRAP!  I’M WRITING THIS ON THE BALCONY OF THE HOTEL, ENJOYING THE COOL BREEZE AND VIEW OF THE HARBOR.  WAS SHOCKED TO HEAR A PLANE FLYING OVERHEAD.  ONLY THE SECOND PLANE I’VE HEARD IN TWO MONTHS.

Ok, the newsflash is over…back to what we have and don’t have.

There is no Mexican food in Samoa.  Or, apparently, American Samoa.  And yes, I would have taken the 11 hour ferry trip for a good plate of Mexican food.  There are also no Mexican ingredients to speak of in the grocery store.  Chi Chi’s salsa that is both expensive and past its expiration date does not constitute a viable ingredient.

Fresh meats and vegetables in the stores are expensive and vegetables can be hard to fine.  Generally, in Apia, you can find bok choy and carrots in the larger markets, reasonably priced.

The best bet for fresh veggies is the open air market.  It’s big, sells everything that’s in season at the best prices you’ll find and also has prepared food, if you’re in the need for a fast food fix, and have a strong stomach.  Tasty and cheap but can be dangerous for the tummy.

Basically anything you need (note that is need, not want) can be found in Apia.  You do have to be prepared to pay for it.  Toilet paper, for example, is exorbitant.  I now understand why some people in the villages use used Bingo sheets.  Really, $1 USD a roll for a small roll of single ply?  If anybody has the Charmin guys phone number, let me know.  Given the Palagi Plumbing Problems (think Montezuma’s Revenge) I might be spending all my tala on TP. 

What I Had In the Village

Any place where people live that isn’t in Apia is called a village.  Actually even Apia is broken up into “villages”, although by walking through town (and the town is smaller enough to walk across) you’d never know it.   Even in the rural parts of the island, frequently  the villages are sort of like suburbs.  Very close together so you can’t tell when you leave one and enter another.  The villages are all similar in a variety of ways.

ANOTHER NEWS FLASH.  YET ANOTHER PLANE JUST FLEW OVER.  TWO PLANES IN AN HOUR?  NEWSWORTHY!

Back to the blog.  In my village we had electricity, a couple of street lights, running water and some indoor plumbing.  That depended on the house.  My house, for example, had an indoor, tiled shower.  It also had an indoor flush toilet, but due to a plumbing problem had to be flushed with a bucket of water.  It also wouldn’t accept TP, so that went into a basket in the bathroom.  The not being able to flush TP situation is common. 

I’d venture to say that the majority of homes, including the fale where we had our training, had outdoor facilities. Usually, two rooms in a tiny building.  One door was to the toilet, the other to the shower.  After using the toilet at the fale, we stepped into the shower room to wash our hands under the shower head, which was a pipe coming out of the ceiling.

By the way, the toilet there flushed but didn’t accept TP.  It was my favorite place, because it had two windows (holes in the wall, no screen), a view of the ocean and a very nice breeze, most days.  Onofia probably thought I have serious health issues, given the amount of time I spent there.

I don’t know of anyone who had air conditioning in the village, although my house had ceiling fans.  We rarely used them due to the cost of electricity as well as the assumption on the part of Samoans that using any type of electric fan will actually make you hotter because of the hot electricity coming from the wall heating the air. 

I slept in a Palagi house, which means it looked like a house you’d see in the States – walls, roof, windows, etc.  It had screen on the windows which was stellar and kept the mosquitoes out.  Most houses I saw did not have mosquito screens.  All the windows I’ve seen in Palagi houses have jalousie windows, like we used to use in Florida.

I slept in a bed in a private room.  My mattress was a Samoan mattress, stuffed with some type of fiber from a tree/plant.  I have no idea what kind but I loved the mattress.  Think of a really, really firm futon mattress and you get the drift.  The bed was basically a plywood platform with a headboard and the mattress on top.

I was the only one to sleep on a bed.  Fa and any family visiting slept on the tile floor in the living room.  Most slept just on woven mats.  Fa slept on woven mats topped with a mattress.  I was invited to sleep in the communal room, since it was larger and had cross-ventilation so was cooler, but I respectfully declined.  They’d been warned that Palagi’s are weird about sleeping alone so it didn’t seem to cause an issue.

A few houses in the village had stoves/ovens, washing machines and refrigerators.  We had a two burner propane stove that Fa used to crank out some tasty food.  We had a refrigerator that Fa used occasionally.  Mostly we used it as a room temperature cabinet to store the eggs, mayonnaise and bottles of water. Yes, I ate the warm eggs and mayo.  No, I never got sick. I have eaten street food in India.  I am impervious to intestinal distress, knock on wood.

Like most Samoans we didn’t have a washer and did laundry in a bucket outside.  Let me rephrase that.  “We” did laundry a couple of times and then Fa couldn’t stand it and started sneaking into my room to steal my clothes while I was at language training.  She’d wash, dry and fold them for me and sneak them back into my room.  I love her for that.

ANOTHER PLANE!  OK, I WAS STARTING TO THINK WE WERE BEING INVADED THEN REALIZED I’VE BEEN HEARING THE SAME PLANE.  I HAVE NO IDEA WHY HE’S CIRCLING THE TOWN, BUT I’M SURE IT WILL BE A TOPIC OF DISCUSSION, AS IS ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS THAT’S OUT OF THE ORDINARY.

Fa also has a traditional Samoan outdoor kitchen.  It’s open air, has a sink with running water, place to have a fire and counters.  That’s what most homes seem to use.  A Palagi house with an indoor kitchen and bathroom are high-end homes.

Most Samoans live off their land.  They eat what they can raise or grow.  They eat mostly root vegetables like taro and breadfruit.  They also raise pigs and chickens, primarily.  Some raise cattle, but I understand they are used primarily for fa’alavelaves, a topic I’ll tell you about in another entry.  The chickens and pigs are free range, as are the many dogs.  It was not unusual for training to be interrupted by a massive dog fight involving up to ten dogs.  I was never sure what set them off.

Being a city girl, I occasionally interrupted training by squealing about some animal or other.  I was thrilled when Onofia stopped training one day to point out one of the family who lived in the fale we used coming toward us, holding a piglet.  It was the runt of the litter and he was concerned it would be crushed.  He should have worried about the fallout of two senior trainees fighting over the right to cuddle the pig for the day.  It worked out.  Sia and I took turns.  Unfortunately, it was my turn when the little bugger had to pee.  Small, but holds amazing amounts of liquid. 

Speaking of liquid, our village had plenty of water.  So much, in fact, that it was not unusual to see a tap left running, sometimes for hours.  Having been raised in the desert in Arizona, I had trouble seeing that.  It was nice to have free water coming from every tap.  That isn’t the case for all villages.  Some volunteers and many Samoans depend on cisterns which collect rain water.  And some can’t afford cisterns and depend on nearby rivers or neighbors.

Things I Don’t Have

There was nothing that I needed in the village that I didn’t have.  There were things I wanted that I didn’t have, but got used to the lack of familiar creature comforts very quickly.

Cold showers.  I washed my face Saturday with hot water for the first time in six weeks.  I took a hot shower this morning but decided it wasn’t as refreshing and turned off the hot water mid-shower.

Ice.  Mostly in the village I drank water.  Fa made me tea and hot Koko Samoa (like cocoa, but made with water) every morning and some evenings.  No alcohol.  Drinks are seldom chilled and I didn’t see ice for six weeks.  It would have been nice, but I didn’t really miss it.  Actually, I don’t see ice often in Apia, either, but refrigerated drinks are common.

Vegetables.  I’m not sure why, but it’s really hard to find fresh vegetables in the villages.  There are some roadside stands, but they’re not in every village.  The faleoloas sell some fresh vegetables, but it’s a rarity.  As in they might have a bag of cucumbers or some pumpkin (a type of squash similar to acorn squash in flavor, but much larger) once every week or two.  As I said before, families eat what they grow.  That means a diet primarily composed of taro, breadfruit, green bananas and occasionally chicken or fish.

Chocolate.  Yes, chocolate as in Snickers, M&M’s, etc., are available in Apia.  They are outrageously expensive.  You can find the occasional candy bar in the larger villages, where they are also worth more than gold.  My friends Gail and Bob demonstrated that chocolate ships remarkably well.  A bag of Ghirardelli squares arrived intact and delicious.  It would have been nice of me to share.  I’m not that nice.  I did share M&Ms,  which made me very popular until they ran out.

Mail.  Yes, I get mail.  Letters seem to take about 3 weeks to arrive.  Some packages arrived within a month.  I’ve heard from others that they’ve sent packages, some six weeks ago.  Since I’ve heard that because all the planes are packed with Samoans coming home for the holiday, the mail slows considerably.  I’ll look forward to opening Christmas presents, mailed on Halloween, on Valentine’s Day.

In one of the many documents that the PC sent us to prepare, it said that we’d quickly get used to cold showers (or, in the case of some of our group, bucket showers) and limited varieties of food.  They were right.  I’ve come to accept and appreciate a way of life that is simpler, not that I won’t spend hours in the Albertson’s produce department when I go home.

They were also correct in saying that what is much harder to deal with is the isolation that comes from language and cultural differences.  It was fine for me because I had my fellow trainees to talk and vent with.  I also had my new friends, the Samoan PC staff, some of whom were in the villages with us frequently.  They won’t be there in Savaii.  It will be challenging at first, but I’m confident I’ll meet people with strong English.  And, my Samoan will improve with time. 

It seems there’s a lot of talk in the Peace Corps about who’s “real” PC and who’s in the Posh Corps or Beach Corps.  I think it’s more about we’re giving, rather than focusing on what we’re not being given.  We’re here to teach English.  Will that change the country or the future of world peace.  No.  Might I change one life?  Or the opinions that a few have about Americans?  Perhaps. 

Whether I have electricity or not doesn’t make a difference.  And for those who think I’m having a two year vacation on the US taxpayers dime, come on over.  After you ride two hours on a bus, sitting on a cramped wooden bench with someone sitting on your lap, so you can attend training to make you a more effective teacher, we can talk about how easy we have it here on the two hour bus ride home to our dinner of boiled bananas.  I love it here and am committed to stay.  But it isn’t a vacation, by a longshot.

I’ve been writing about we had and didn’t have related to “stuff”.  In another entry, I’ll write about what we had/didn’t have in terms of the more important things.  The amount of humor we shared.  The Samoans love to laugh.  The number of stars I saw while waiting for the bus at 5 a.m.  The number of hugs and kisses I got.  I’ll also write about how I didn’t miss the having cars go by with music so loud the bass shook my windows. 

I hope you enjoy the photos. Please let me know if you have any specific questions about village life.

One of my favorites.  Fish cooked in coconut cream.

Dinner - taro in coconut cream, rice in coconut cream and at the top, a small bowl of raw sea urchin.

A typical plantation on Savaii, where each family grows their own food.  That's taro in the foreground.

The beach fale in front of my new house in Savaii.

View from my new front door.

View from the second floor of the school where I'll be teaching.  Walk to the street, turn right, walk five minutes and you'll be at my house.

We trained on the front porch of this fale.  The bathroom is the building in the back. Thought it was funny when one of the chickens decided to stroll in.

The Army marches.  The Peace Corps strolls.  In this case up the main road on the island.  To reach the main part of our village, we turned left at the intersection.

Hi, Jenny's mom!

The house I'll be living in on Savaii, if all goes as planned.  That's a grave in the foreground.  Common to bury relatives in the front yard.

I'd like to thank everyone for their patience with my sporadic posts.  I appreciate your willingness to spend your time reading my very biased view of Peace Corps life in Samoa.

A shout out to Jenny's mom, Renee.  Jenny's doing great.  I haven't spent a lot of time with her, since we were in different training villages, but see her on center days, and now that we're all back in Apia for a week.  She's energetic, enthusiastic and clearly will be a stellar teacher.  Her sense of humor, energy and positive attitude are a pleasure to be around.  Thanks for sharing her with us.  I'm sure you miss her.

I'll be posting as often as I have time/money for.  I hit Farmer Joe's today for the first time and bought groceries so I can cook in the hotel kitchen for most of my meals this week.  Hopefully, that will give me enough of a cushion so that I can upload a lot of the photos I took over the last six weeks, plus more of my stream of consciousness blogs.

Cheers everybody - and thanks for your support!

Language Training in the Village

The main road through the village that I walked everyday to the training fale.

There were so many things I loved about life in the village, like the daily walk to and from our training fale.  The clicking of hooves as pigs and their new offspring sprinted across the road.  The new foal grazing under the coconut palm.  The kids, who made it seem as if saying hello to me was the highlight of their day.  When the first one yelled “Malo, Nesi!” the others would start coming out of their fales, to stand by the road, ready to give me a high five and a big smile. 

Someone taught young kids here to say “Bye bye, Palagi!”  They don’t mean it in a negative way, it’s just the only English they know, and they want to show it off.  Which means they shout it out every time they see a white person.  They use it as a greeting and farewell.  I taught the kids on my route to say “Good morning”.  And to say “See ya!” when I was leaving.  I also decided to leave a little bit of the south in my village, so if you walk down the main street, you may have some pre-schoolers shout “Ya’ll come back, hear!” 

Other things drove me to frustration, and occasionally, tears.  Fanning off the flies and trying to keep from melting into a puddle in the afternoon heat, while trying to figure out the logic of what seemed to me to be random patterns of vowels that make up the Samoan language.  Listening to Onofia, our language teacher, patiently say the same word over and over so I could hear the proper way to pronounce the Samoan word for “noon”.  All five syllables of a word that involves only one consonant.  While he was patiently coaching me, I was just feeling frustrated and pissed off at myself for being such a language dunce, while longing for air-conditioning, no insects and an icy cold martini.

We left the village yesterday after a week of final cramming and language testing.  On Thursday, December 9, we had an informal language assessment.  We turned my village into six different simulation stations and all twenty of us gathered to demonstrate our grasp (or lack thereof, in my case) of Samoan.  The PC language and training staff were each assigned to various locations and topics.  For example, I walked to the faleoloa (small store) to pretend to shop – asking about products and prices and chatting with the storeowner, who was actually my first language teacher and a good friend. 

On the way to the store, I was stopped by Joe, another language teacher, who was supposed to test us by asking about our plans and make other casual conversation.

I stopped by Lopati’s fale to have a pretend meal with two more favorite PC staffers.  We talked about what food we like/dislike as we carried on a conversation about our families, both Samoan and American.  Well, most of us did.  I blanked on the first question.  You want me to give you a specific number of people who live in America?  No, we just want to know how many are in your family in America.  A question I’ve answered correctly at least 2 dozen times.  Ah, the frustration.  I was able to brag (in Samoan) that I love Samoan food. 

Speaking of food, my Samoan is good enough that I was able to eavesdrop on my Samoan sister the other night, bragging about how I’ll eat all things Samoan, including Tui Tui (raw sea urchin), oka (raw fish, onion, chilis and lemon juice in coconut cream), pig’s feet, limu (a type of seaweed that looks like a green blackberry) and truckloads of ulu (breadfruit).

Other simulation stations included going to Onofia’s fale (actually the open air Women’s Committee House).  In real life and in the simulation Onofia is a talking chief, also called a tulafale.  Status and respect are very important in Samoa, so we were practicing the formal language used to show respect in the home of a matai, talking chief or minister.  I also answered questions about my village, such as where does the natural healer/medicine woman live.  He was looking for specific directions, with “walk straight up this road, turn left, go over the bridge, etc.”  What he got was me pointing and saying “that way”.  I’m a woman of few words, in Samoan. 

One of my best buddies was in the Peace Corps Office (actually our training fale) and asked me about the ferry schedule.  I pointed out, in English, that since I now know how to take the ferry, I no longer needed to know how to ask in Samoan, so I purged those mental files so I’d have more memory for newer, more relevant information.  I did ask her how her day was going in Samoan, though and we chatted a bit about busses.

I also got to ride in a “taxi” which was a Peace Corps SUV, upon which Onofia had put a great taxi sign.  One of my favorite staff members was the driver and he played up his role as a cab driver.  We’ve all learned that cab drivers here may start talking smut the second you get in the cab.  They’re looking for a good time and sometimes a way to help you part with your tala (the Samoan dollar).  In between checking to see if we knew how to handle the normal process of asking about the fare, etc., he also asked if we were married, wanted a date, knew of Peace Corps girls he could date (that was for the guys) and just generally made us laugh.

The day was stressful because even though it was an informal assessment we all wanted to do well.  One thing I can say about Group 83 is that there’s not a slacker in the bunch.  We may get on each other’s last nerve at times, but we never give up on getting the job done, whatever the job may be.  In this case, learning the language.   The simulation was a chance for the staff to assess how far we’d come as well as a good chance for us to practice all we’d learned.  That was key since Friday was the big enchilada of our training:  the Language Proficiency Exam. Wait, did somebody say enchilada???

To finish training and be sworn in as a volunteer, we have to achieve Intermediate Low proficiency on the exam.  Now, realistically, if a trainee is making a serious effort the Peace Corps is not going to throw away all the time and money invested by sending them home for failing the language exam.  Realism didn’t enter our realities, though.  We were all stressed to the max about doing well on the Interview.

Fale, the language and culture coordinator helped each of us prepare for the interview with coaching and practice interviews.  I prefer to think that he spent extra time with me because I’m so charming and fun to be with, rather than that my Samoan stinks. 

Late one afternoon, he was helping me practice and started by saying “Hi, I’m funky.”  I exchanged surprised glances with another trainee.  Since I’d been swatting flies and wiping off sweat for the previous eight hours I just said “Me, too.” and started laughing hysterically.  Oops, seems the name of the outside language professional hired to interview us is named Fugi, which if you recall (as I occasionally do) that g’s are pronounced sort of like n’s, that means I’d be interviewed by Funky.  Thank heavens I found that out before the actual interview.

Anyway, Friday, December 10 we had our interviews.  They involved speaking for 15-30 minutes in Samoan, asking and answering questions and participating in a role play.  Mine was not pretty.  Funky (as I prefer to spell it) is a Catholic catechist and a sweetheart of a guy.  He did his best to help us relax and draw out our best Samoan.  Sadly, didn’t work with me.  I sat down and immediately forgot everything I’d learned.  I did manage to squeak out my name.  Our entire group passed our interviews.  I may have gotten the senior citizen sympathy pass, and I’m good with that.  I’m going to keep up the studying and eventually, I will be able to chat without becoming tense as a cat in a roomful of Samoan dogs.

The stress of our interviews was just the beginning.  Friday evening we had to say goodbye to our host families and pack to head back to Apia for a week and then our permanent sites.

Normally, I live alone with my Samoan sister Fa.  Occasionally others visit/stay, including Kika, who is Fa’s niece and a Samoan laugh riot.  When I got home Friday Fa and Kika were there with a couple of other relatives.  Fa surprised me with a new puletasi that she’d asked the wife of the pastor to make for me.  Royal blue, with hand drawn silver designs on both the top and skirt.  Really beautiful.  Kika also gave me some clothes, skirts and a blouse that I’ll be able to wear a lot.  She also gave me a beautiful ula from her mom– a special necklace, like a lei.  This one is intricately made of beads and is really special. Kika also gave me a pair of her high-heeled sandals that she thought would be perfect to wear with my new puletasi.  I’ll be wearing the shoes and puletasi for swearing in.  There’s been talk of wearing matching puletasis, but it’s more important to me to honor Fa and Kika by wearing the special gifts they gave me.

I read a speech I’d prepared in Samoan and gave Fa a small gift as a token of my gratitude for her generosity and hospitality.  She made a short speech, which she later translated for me into English, in which she told me that I would always be welcome in her home, as part of her family.  Tears all around.

For six weeks, Fa treated me like family.  Actually, she treated me more like a queen.  She cooked every meal for me.  She did my laundry (by hand).  She patiently helped me with my Samoan homework.  She prayed for me.  She created a special day for me to celebrate my 60^th birthday.  She helped me understand Samoan customs.  She cleaned for me.  She talked and laughed with me.  She shared her life and family with me.  She didn’t do it because of money.  Trust me, the Peace Corps doesn’t have the budget to motivate anyone with money.

Fa did everything she did, as did the other host families, because that’s fa’a Samoa.  It’s a culture the Samoan people are proud of and they should be.  They value God first and family second.  They are hospitable and will give away, literally, the shirt off their backs.

One of the reasons I worked so hard in language training is that while I could get by with no Samoan, knowing the language will make it easier and more fun to fit in here.  It also shows my respect for the people and culture.  So far, people have been patient, although sometimes perplexed when I inflict my Samoan on them.  At least they know I’m trying.

On Saturday morning, we met at the training fale with way more than the luggage we’d arrived there with six weeks before.  Each of us took home so many gifts, including a new suitcase, in my case, to accommodate all the new clothes that Fa gave me during my stay. 

Next Friday, during swearing in, Fa and Kika will be there.  I’ll be wearing my new blue puletasi and the perfect strappy sandals.  I couldn’t have made it through training without them.

Three sisters on my birthday.  Nice cake, eh? Just part of the feast they prepared for me.

Yes, we're here to teach.  We spent two weeks at this school doing our teaching practicum.

Peace Corps ladies working on supoesi - Papaya Soup. Yes, the majority of Samoans cook over wood fires.

Limu - seaweed that's excellent.  Also, boiled green bananas in coconut cream.  A special occasion dinner!

You've heard of tropical storms?  This was a typical afternoon rain.  Unfortunately, I forgot my umbrella.

Processing, Please Wait

My sister Fa and I on my birthday.  I'm wearing a puletasi she gave me.

I know now how my computer feels when I get that annoying message that I need to wait patiently while it processes my input.  That’s sort of how I’m feeling.  I left home on October 4^th.  I arrived in Samoa on October 6^th.   It feels as if I’ve been gone for years.  Yet, the time has passed so quickly.  So many new experiences, new people that I’m feeling in need of time to process it. 

I know, I’m on a beautiful island in the south Pacific, so why don’t I just lounge on a beach and let my mind absorb it all?  Because that’s not the way training is structured.  Our days are packed with training.  Evenings and weekends are filled with spending time with our new families/friends, church (avg. for me was 6 hours per Sunday) and homework.  Endless homework. 

Since accepting my invitation to join the Peace Corps, it’s been a series of transitions, goodbyes and new experiences. 

First it was closing up my American life, selling and storing all my stuff and saying goodbye to the people I love.  It was an emotional time, with the feelings of sadness swirled together with the enormous excitement and anticipation of heading off the cliff.

We were only in L. A. for staging for a day, so that was just like a pit stop, with no attachments formed, but it was filled with new people and a fairly large dose of stress.   Our first three weeks in Apia were spent getting to know the people we’d be sharing the next two years with, both staff and other trainees.  It was also a very diluted introduction to life in Samoa, since we had access to most of the creature comforts and culture we were used to in the U. S.   It was long enough for us to be tired of being cooped up in a hotel and to be anxious to move on to the “real” Samoa.  Since we knew that even though we’d be in different training villages (5 volunteers per village) we’d see each other at least once a week, there were no tears when we said goodbye.

Our time in the training villages was hard, horrible and wonderful.  Everyone who’s been through it says that the months of training are the hardest part of service.  I can believe it.  I know I’ll look back on my training experience fondly, though.  More about that later.

Our latest transition was leaving our villages to return to Apia for a final week of training and swearing in.  Saying goodbye to my host family was hard.  They’ve given me so much and helped me through a challenging time.  I also know that I’ll be saying goodbye to more new friends this week, when I move to Savaii.  Then, the challenge of meeting more people, sorting through the logistics of getting settled and finding the people that I’ll become close to for the next two years.

Bottom line, since coming to Samoa life has been filled with new stuff.  People, experiences, expectations, language, food, etc.  We’ve also had very little control over our lives in any way.  I can’t say it’s been overwhelming, but close at moments.  I need time to process all that I’ve been experiencing.  I feel as if I’m a fresh wine skin, with lots of a new vintage being pouring into me.  I’m starting to fill up and my skin is stretching and becoming tighter, thinner and more sensitive. 

Emotions are rising to the top and occasionally bubble over.  Not in a bad way, just in a “full” kind of way.  Like on the drive to Apia with neighbors recently.  Heading into town to celebrate Thanksgiving, I was sitting in the backseat, singing along with them to the carols on the radio.  It was sunny, with a dark, stormy sky in the distance.  And there was a perfect, complete double rainbow.  The colors were intense against the dark sky and so were my emotions.  I didn’t have the Samoan or English words to explain why I was crying.  Because it was so perfectly beautiful?  Because my dream of living on an island in the Pacific has come true?  Because strangers have taken me into their lives and made me feel welcome and loved?

When we’re surrounded by people and things we know, I think we tend to take them for granted.  I remember the first time I saw a space shuttle launch from the grocery store parking lot near my home.  I stood stock still in awe and almost got run over by someone who had seen so many launches before that they took them for granted.

Maybe it’s a good thing that we become inured to all of the amazing things around us.  If we experienced everything in our lives with the same fresh sense of wonder, all the time, it could become painfully intense.

I don’t know if the Peace Corps did it on purpose, but having yesterday afternoon and today to relax and process all we’ve experienced is a good thing.

Fa's house - and mine, during training in the village.  I had the best house of anyone.  The perks of being the oldest volunteer.

We took a break one day during training.  From left:  Hector PC Staff from El Salvador, Sia (Pat), Lisi (Lindsey), Lopati (Rob) and my BFF Sesa (Chelsea)

This is where we trained from 8 am to about 6 pm, five days a week.  The gentleman seated in the front is Onofia, our 69 year old teacher, who was excellent!

Elu (Danny) and his sister weaving a basket on culture day.  I think she did most of the weaving.

Last Week in the Training Village

In Apia today for our last center day.  I'm headed back to the training village this evening to complete the last week of training in the village.  Hard to believe that I've been in Samoa for two months and in the village for 6 weeks.

I've only got a couple of minutes, so here are some highlights:

Final language proficiency interview is Friday afternoon.  My language sucks.  I'm hoping to be charming and talk fast and maybe he won't notice that my use of prounouns (there are about 423 in fa'a Samoa) is random.

Saturday, we'll be picked up at 9 a.m. in the village and transported back to Apia for our final week at the Pasifika Inn.  I'm looking forward to a variety of western style foods and vegetables.  Being back in the hotel/class with the troups, not so much.  We're all ready to head to our sites.

On Friday, December 17, we'll be sworn in, assuming that I pass my language exam (and they'll be looking for ways to pass me, I think) and don't get arrested for drunk and disorderly.  I don't think that will be an issue, although I do plan on a couple of martinis next week.  On December 18 we'll experience what I've been warned is the most traumatic PC experience.  The moment you're dropped off alone in your new village. 

We're all excited and ready for the adventure to continue.  I think some of us are genuinely going to miss our host families/village and the comfortable routine we've created there.  There's so much more I could write about our time in the village, some poignant stuff, some funny but that will have to wait for another day when I have more time.

I'll be blogging more from Apia next week.