In a word, my trip to Samoa was “wonderful.” I’m so very lucky that I was placed with my particular Samoan family when I was in Peace Corps. I had sent an email with my itinerary and had a couple of brief phone conversations with my Samoan family before I left Hawaii ($45 for two phone calls of about ten minutes each). But other than the fact that I knew that they knew that I was coming for a visit, I had made no other plans. I took a taxi from the airport directly to the bakery/restaurant/store which my family owns. I was welcomed with hugs and kisses, was given a sandwich and cool drink, and then took a taxi to grandmother’s house in Apia. From that time on, I was in the bosom of the family and wanted for nothing the entire time that I was there.

That evening we went to Poutasi. It was difficult to see the village so changed. Our family house was very badly damaged, but part of the rear portion remains, with intact plumbing in the bathroom. So the family has been living in that part of the house. All the windows and some of the walls were blown out in the tsunami, so it’s open on three sides, although they have put up boards to provide some shelter. They are building a new house in the village, on higher ground. It is nearly complete, but still didn’t have plumbing during my visit, so they weren’t living there yet. Saina (the mom in my host family) will have an indoor kitchen sink and a four burner stovetop for the first time ever. But they also plan to rebuild the old house as a place to come by the sea, and for guests and family. There are numerous new houses in the village, mostly on the mountain instead of by the sea where they used to be, and lots of open space where houses once stood.

My visit brought closure for me in more ways than I expected. It helped to be able to see the village, changed as it is, and accept it as it now stands, and to mourn the loss of my friends. But unexpectedly I found some closure to my Peace Corps experience. When I first got to Samoa in 2007, I wrote in my journal that “. . . my only real concern is whether I will be able to accomplish a worthwhile project in my village when I get there.” So to return and sense some measure of accomplishment, and know that I made a small difference, is a good feeling.

When I returned to Poutasi, I learned that the Homework Center continued successfully after I left. On weekends it was a busy place where the children continued to come and do homework and spend time on the computers. Some of the village teachers staffed it. It’s hard for Samoan kids to do homework at home – there are always chores that they are asked to do, little brothers and sisters to baby-sit, etc. At the homework center they could come and work together in a place set aside for that purpose. And the little kids could come too and color, do puzzles, etc., like they did while I was there.

And here’s one of the coolest things. In the new church hall, under construction, there is planned a new homework center. It will be bigger and better and air conditioned. They will continue to welcome kids from Poutasi and the neighboring village to come and do homework and use the computers for free (with charges only for printing and copying). I can hardly express how delighted I am that this little project is continuing.

So I was really excited to give the money that I took with me from your generous gifts ($500 US), to the Poutasi Homework Center. One of the Peace Corps office staff also raised $1,300 US that she wants to be used for the kids in Poutasi. I introduced her to Saina, and the day after I left they met to begin planning a fun day for the kids in September where they will have crafts, games, prizes, food, music, and dancing, I wish that I could be there! A portion of that money will also go to the Poutasi Homework Center. Later, when the construction on the church hall is complete, and the homework center is ready to re-open, I’ll send some books, puzzles, etc. to replace some of what was lost in the tsunami. (A couple of you have said that you would still like to contribute – you could help me buy stuff for a box to send later.)

I am absolutely delighted with how this has turned out! There will be a new community internet center in the village, but the kids can still have the opportunity they had before. They can still have free computer time; they can come to do homework together; they will have a learning space. The Poutasi Homework Center will continue.

On Friday, May 28th, I'll return to Samoa for a visit and come back to Hawaii on June 11th.

As I mentioned previously, I’ve been trying to raise some money to help with a new computer center in my village which is going to be in the old headmaster’s house near the high school. I’m blessed with so many great friends; I’ve received $565 in the mail. But that’s not the only amazing thing.

There is a Peace Corps volunteer (Erica) who is still in Samoa who lived in a village several miles down the road from Poutasi. I say lived, because she literally out ran the tsunami when it swept into her village, and the house where she was living was destroyed. Through her help and an organization called Peace Corps Partnership we have raised an additional $2,700! The money is intended to help purchase some equipment for the computer center. It should buy at least two copier/printer machines. I can’t say fa’afetai (thank you) enough to everyone who helped out.

It’s been eight months since the tsunami. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone there, but I’m apprehensive about seeing the village. It will forever be in my memory as it was before the tsunami, especially since that’s the way it was during my Peace Corps experience. But it will never be that way again, and I have to get used to that idea too.

I’ll send an update from Samoa. Maybe this will be the stimulus I need to take my 300+ page journal, written while I was in Peace Corps, and turn it into something that people might want to read, or maybe just a memoir for me and my family.

As always, thanks for your interest and your support.

FROM THE SAMOA OBSERVER

Tsunami clean-up begins

Sunday, 07 March 2010

Hundreds of volunteers, supported by the expatriate Australian community (and the odd Kiwi) turned up at Poutasi yesterday for the start of the tsunami clean-up.

Teams scoured the mangroves, waded through the lagoon and scrambled over the rocks to rescue the reef and retrieve tonnes of debris and other rubbish.

Led by MNRE and with the support of DMO, Fire and Emergency Services, the Red Cross, the crew from MV NAFANUA and the matai of Poutasi, the clean up was declared a big success.

“It was a wonderful day and proved that, occasionally, people power can match the destructive force of nature,” said Australian High Commissioner Matt Anderson.

“It was also a reminder that Australia (and Australians) stand ready to assist Samoa wherever and whenever there’s a need.”

Aloha! After a vagabond year I’m back in Hawaii. It was wonderful to spend a lot of time with family on the mainland. With one son in Atlanta, one in Colorado, and the other in San Diego, I literally went from coast to coast, thoroughly enjoying my time with each of them and their families. I was also able to spend a lot of precious time with my mother in Colorado.

After the tsunami in Samoa I mentioned that I would like to organize an effort to help my village of Poutasi, especially the kids in the village. One of my major projects in the village was the homework/computer center. We turned a storeroom in the rear of the church hall into a small computer center (see photos on the right side of this blog). We got three used computers donated from the Mormon Church in Samoa, and had one laptop that was donated by a friend in the States. We got a grant from the New Zealand High Commission of approximately $2,000 US, which we used to purchase a printer and pay for some of the renovation cost. The village provided labor and the remainder of the materials.

It was in this small center that I spent two or more afternoons a week and Saturday mornings with the kids teaching them to use the computers, helping them with school work, and providing a learning place for them to hang out. Often there would be 12 or 15 kids waiting for me when I got there. They would double up and sit two in front of each computer. While waiting for their turn, they sat on the floor and colored, did puzzles, read books, or played games. Thanks to generous donations from friends in the States, we were able to provide these educational materials for them.

I taught the kids basic computer skills and installed educational games on the computers. There were mouse practice games, typing games, and math and language games. They loved it and it was such a joy to see them there. Some days I would be tired and think, “I don’t want to go to the computer center this afternoon.” Then I would go and spend two or three hours and be totally energized by being with them.

The church hall was badly damaged in the tsunami. It’s structurally unsound and is being demolished. However, often there is opportunity in crisis. There is a two-story house that at one time was the headmaster’s house for the school when they sent teachers to Samoa from New Zealand. While I was living in the village, Tuatagaloa Joe and his wife, Tui (Joe is my family’s chief and high chief of the village, and Tui was my dear friend and cousin who was killed in the tsunami), talked to me about using that house to create a “real” computer center. If I had been able to stay longer in Samoa I would have worked toward that goal. I had initial conversations with some folks about it, but that was all that I was able to accomplish while I was there.

Now, after the tsunami, a group of young men from New Zealand have come to the village to help, and they are remodeling and restoring the house for a computer center. There will be a small apartment upstairs so that someone can live above the computer center to provide supervision and security. And it is on the main road so there is a phone line nearby making it possible for them to be on the internet (my little computer center wasn’t on the net).

Tuatagaloa Joe will be sending me some photos and more details on the renovation progress soon. I’ll post that information as soon as I get it.

Many people have told me that they would like to make a donation, so I’m working to raise some funds to help make this new computer center a reality. If you would like to help Poutasi in this way, you can contact me at donna_barr@hotmail.com. Fa’afetai tele lava! (Thank you very much!)

Gardenias' fragrances float in the tropical air.

Breezes sigh in the ironwood trees.

Spring moon is shining full.

Frogs call and crickets chirp.

As the moon pulls on the tides tonight

Drawing them closer to her,

I feel Hawai'i tugging on my soul,

Drawing me closer to her.

Islands of gentle showers and soft green,

Pahoehoe and a'a,

Mountains soaring, rivers roaring,

Forests of rain, and deep waters.

I need to be comforted by your softness,

Challenged by your rugged solitude,

And nestled in your warm bosom,

Renewed and held in the spell of your tropical nights.

On January 7th I'll finally be settling in back on the Big Island of Hawaii. I miss the island life and am getting anxious to be back. I hope to travel to Samoa in the spring. (And yes, I know Hawaii isn't in the South Pacific (per the name of this blog), but it's part of Polynesia and what's a few degrees north of the equator.)

I have a small job tutoring Samoan when I get there, which will help me keep up my Samoan language skills.

Manuia le Kirisimasi, Mele Kalikimaka, Merry, Merry Christmas to all!

It’s been nearly three months since the tsunami in Samoa. The immediate crisis is past. Houses and lives are being rebuilt. Here’s the email I recently received from my Samoan family:

Dear Donna,

Sorry for delaying in replying your Email. Kids are very happy with

their gifts. We also very happy and would like to thank you very much

indeed for all this you have done for us. Hemara is very like to write to you.

Regarding Tsunami, We are now starting to plan for a new house at the

roadside. I am trying to get some money loan from the Bank to add on the

assistance given by the government, then probably starting the

construction work by next month.

Best regards from Saina, Hemara, Tia and Fetu

Tofa Soifua

Lesaisaea Niualuga

When a Peace Corps volunteer in Samoa is assigned to a village, it’s the responsibility of the village to provide a place for the volunteer to live. I had initially been told, as I had requested, that I would have a place by myself. I was dismayed to learn just a few days before I went to Poutasi that I would be living with a family in the village.

As a group of 16 volunteers we had gone through training together for three months. Then we were taken to our individual villages. I vividly remember that day when we arrived in Poutasi and I was introduced to my Samoan family. Then the Peace Corps vehicle drove away and there I was. In a strange house, with people I didn’t know. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so alone.

But sometimes we don’t know what’s best for us. When it was time to come back to the States the next year, it was so hard to leave my Samoan family. We hugged and kissed and cried together. I know for a fact that my experience there was enriched immensely by having been a part of this family.

In Samoa, as in all of Polynesia, if you are related by blood (even the remotest cousin), or by adoption (formal or otherwise), or by marriage, or by simply being welcomed into the family, you are family, now and forever.

I lived in Poutasi with Lesaisaea Niualuga Evaimalo, his wife, Saina, and their children. Saina’s father, Tuatagaloa Te’o Fetu, was high chief of Poutasi and the Falealili District (12 villages on the southern coast of the Island of Upolu) for decades. When he passed away in the 1990’s, the family chose a new matai (chief), Joe Annandale, who then became Tuatagaloa Joe Annandale. The Annandale ancestor came to Samoa from Scotland, and in 1873 married a Samoan princess, the niece of King Malietoa.

In Samoa there is what is known as “customary land.” Every Samoan family has a swath of land that runs from the sea to the mountain which has been their family’s land for hundreds of years. They don’t have title to it; they can’t sell it or lease it. It’s the family land. Usually several households live on the family land in individual houses. One family in Poutasi had over 50 family members living together in different houses, including the 80-year-old matriarch of the family and her children and their children and their children.

As I said, Saina’s father was the Tuatagaloa high chief for many years. After her father’s death, her mother moved to Apia to live with family there. Saina married Niu and they now live in the family house in Poutasi where I stayed. Tuatagaloa Joe, the current high chief, and his wife Tui lived in their house next door.

Saina and Niu's have six children. Three of them lived with us in Poutasi. Their oldest daughter is grown with a family of her own. Son Stephen is attending high school in California and lives with family there, and daughter Aileen lived with her aunt and uncle in Apia. Throughout Polynesia children are commonly entrusted to relatives. In America we associate foster parenting or adoption with something gone wrong. In Samoa it's like a redistribution of children, to those with no children, or to a family who might be able to provide more ample means of support. These transfers of children aren’t absolute, and although the fosterage may last for years, they don’t permanently separate the children from their biological parents, who have a deep and lasting commitment to their children. It’s hard for us to understand, and likewise, the thought that we have orphanages is appalling to Samoans.

(Aileen is now attending Alabama State University in Montgomery on scholarship and I was able to spend some time with her when visiting my son in Atlanta for Thanksgiving.)

The younger children in our family, Hemara, Tia, and Fetu, lived with us in Poutasi. Hemara and Tia, attended St. Mary’s Primary School, a private school in Apia. Hemara turned 11 soon after I got there and is now 13. She and I became especially close. Youngest son, Fetu, has a learning disability (Saina has diabetes, which was diagnosed during her pregnancy with Fetu, and such high risk pregnancies often result in developmental delay, learning difficulties and ADHD). When I first came to the village, Fetu, at age 7, was not attending school at all. They had tried to send him to the local school, but teachers in Samoan village schools don't have the training to deal with such a situation. I encouraged and worked with Saina, and we were able about one year later to get Fetu into a private school in Apia, where he would get the extra help he needed. It’s very fortunate that the family has the resources to send the children to private schools. If not, Fetu would just not have gone to school.

My Samoan family is wealthy by Samoan standards. Saina’s family owns a bakery, small grocery store, and restaurant in Apia. Saina works at the store. Niu was originally from another village. (In Samoa you don’t marry someone from your own village.) He got his Bachelor’s degree from the University of the South Pacific in Fiji in Environmental Science. When I first arrived in the village, Niu was in charge of the National Park in Samoa. While I was there he got a promotion and he is now head of Waste Management for the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment. Joe and Tui owned Sinalei (http://www.sinalei.ws/), a small resort a few miles away, which was a real treat for me to visit occasionally. (Both the Ministry and the resort have internet access so we can continue to keep in touch via email.)

Because of the wealth and the status of my Samoan family, I felt kind of guilty at first that my life was cushier and more comfortable than most of the other Peace Corps volunteers in country. But after a time, I realized that this was my Peace Corps experience, and other volunteers would have a different experience, and that was okay.

And of course it’s all still relative. We lived in one of the nicest houses in the village. But we still had no hot water, and cold water intermittently. The family did most of the cooking over an open fire in the cookhouse out back, since we had only a one-burner propane cook top in the house, and no stove. We had a refrigerator when I first moved there, but it died about three months before I left and hadn’t been replaced yet. The laundry was done either at the sink, which was outside next to the house, or in buckets in the shower stall.

Well, I digress. My Samoan family is doing well under the circumstances. Joe is recovering from his injuries and plans to repair and reopen Sinalei by April 2010. Tui will be missed forever, but Joe has a lot of family support. I talked to Niu and Saina by telephone several days after the tsunami. Their new house will be located on family land away from the ocean front and along the government road slightly higher in elevation. The children are doing well. Saina said that Hemara was angry because she had written a letter to me which hadn’t yet been mailed, and it was washed away.

I haven’t worked out the details yet, but I am continuing to plan to raise some money to reopen the homework center/computer center. I was so pleased that they had kept it going after I left, and even added another room for a quiet study area and library. If I could raise enough money (probably about $2,000 to do repairs and replace the computers), I’d like to go back for a few weeks next spring or summer and set it up again. I’m waiting to hear back from Joe and Niu about the structural integrity of the church hall. The computer center was in the back of the building; the front was badly damaged. There is one other building in the village that is a possible location, but it would need much more repair.

Geography Postscript

After the tsunami I had questions from a number of you about the size of the Samoan Islands. Here’s a bit of information about Samoa and American Samoa. The eastern group of islands, the territory of American Samoa, has a population of about 55,000. The total land area of American Samoa is 77 square miles made up of seven very small islands. The largest island (Tutuila) has a land area of 57 square miles. It also has a large natural harbor (Pago Pago), which is why the United States wanted it for a naval re-fueling station.

Forty-miles away is the independent country of Samoa (formerly known as Western Samoa) with a total population of about 188,000 and a total land area of 1,133 square miles. Comparatively, the area occupied by Samoa is slightly smaller than the State of Rhode Island. There are four inhabited islands. I lived on the Island of Upolu which is 430 square miles. It’s the most populated island and second largest island, 47 miles long and 15 miles wide. There is one city on the island, Apia (pop. 61,900), which is really an agglomeration of small villages. Seventy percent of the population lives in small villages on the coast.

Filipo is the young man in the CNN video talking about Poutasi. Here are some photos that I took of Filipo scraping the skin off a breadfruit with a tuna can and making freshly squeezed coconut milk for a village celebration.

I'm waiting to hear back from Poutasi to see if they would like to rebuild the homework center. The church hall (the homework center was in a former store room in the back of the church hall) is damaged in the front of the building, but the building still stands. If it is structurally sound, I would like to raise funds to restore the computer/homework center and go back to facilitate that happening next year.

It's been an interesting year. A good year with lots of travels - but not in the South Pacific. There is definitely a readjustment process returning home from Peace Corps.

I'll be back in Hawaii soon and will post more about all of the above and more.

PART I

By now most everyone has heard about the earthquake and tsunami that hit Samoa and American Samoa on Tuesday, September 29th. The quake, with a magnitude between 8.0 and 8.3, struck at 6.48 am Samoan time on Tuesday and locals said it lasted up to three minutes. According to news reports, eyewitnesses said that over the next 20 minutes there were four giant walls of water, between three and nine meters high.

It's very hard to get news. The phones don't work. But I have heard via email that my village of Poutasi was one of the hardest hit. Initial reports are that it was devastated, flattened. One Peace Corps volunteer in country says that there are possibly 50 dead in Poutasi (in a village of 325 people). I heard by email from the Peace Corps country director that one of my family members was killed. Her body was found washed up in a tree after she tried to help some children get to safety. I don't know yet if the others are safe.

It’s hard to describe to someone who hasn’t had the experience what it means to live in a Samoan village with a Samoan family for 18 months. You’re out of your comfort zone, far away from what you know. They take you in and love you. It was my village, my home, my family. I know everyone in the village and they know me. I was their pisikoa.

I’ve kept in touch with my Samoan family since I came back. The father of the family works for a government ministry and has email at his office. Hemara, the 12-year old daughter, who is very dear to me, sends me letters, and just last week I sent a box of gifts for the children in my family for White Sunday (Children’s Day – the second Sunday in October).

I'm a weeping mess. It will be a very hard day again today. I slept very little. Every time I closed my eyes I could only see my beautiful village as it was, and imagine what must have happened. And I see the children of the village, and know that their lives are changed forever.

PART II

Fa'afetai tele ia le Atua mo le puipuiga o lo'u aiga Samoa. (Thank God for the protection of my Samoan family.)

I was able to contact a Peace Corps volunteer in country who contacted Niu's workplace where someone said that Niu, Saina and the children are safe. Niu, Saina and the kids are the nuclear family in whose home I lived in Poutasi. Tuatagaloa Joe and his wife Tui are cousins who lived in the house next door to us. Joe is the chief of our extended family, and also the high chief of the village and the entire district made up of several villages. Joe is in the hospital in critical condition.

Tui was killed in the tsunami. She and I were good friends. She was close to me in age, of German and Samoan heritage. She was educated in New Zealand and spoke English very well. She had many "Western ways," and yet was thoroughly Samoan. We often sat on her deck overlooking the ocean and had a cup of tea together. She was very well known and respected throughout the islands. If you Google her name you will find much has been published already about her death. Here's an excerpt from one of them:

Former Miss Samoa Tui Annandale, wasn't one of the lucky ones. Annandale and her husband Joe were having morning prayers at home in the village of Poutasi when the earthquake struck. Annandale tried to flee the wave by car, but she was sucked out and drowned.

Tui's funeral, held on Wednesday night, was attended by Samoa's Prime Minister, the head of state and also former rugby player and relative, Peter Fatialofa.

Tui's friend Leiloa was on foot behind the car and miraculously lived. "The wave picked me up and threw me into the church. I held onto the pillar until the water passed," she says.

Life has often been compared to a journey, and like a journey, we never know what we will find around the next bend in the road. My assignment with Peace Corps in Samoa was scheduled to conclude in the summer of 2009, but I will be leaving a few months early. The primary reason that I’m leaving is to be with my mother in Colorado as she undergoes surgery for a condition in her lower back that is causing her to experience severe pain. For months she has tried cortisone injections, chiropractors, various pain medications, etc. with no relief. Not only will she need someone to be there to help her when she returns home from the hospital, but obviously I want to be there with her during the surgery as well. It’s curious what turns our lives take sometimes. To be honest with you my dear friends and family, lately my thoughts have been turning more and more toward going home. And then my mother’s surgery comes, and it’s time to go home.

Perhaps this will come as a surprise to some of you because I have tried to keep an optimistic outlook and upbeat attitude during my time here. But damn it’s hard sometimes! Peace Corps life is supposed to be a challenge and it is. But not in the ways that I thought it would be. Of course there are the language and culture challenges, which one expects. However, I would say that the biggest challenge has been the loneliness.

Even though I am surrounded by people who are kind and supportive here in my village, and even though there are other Peace Corps volunteers with whom I interact on a regular basis, it gets lonely. I miss having close friends and family nearby to laugh with, talk about the events of the day, and to share life with. When I was in Hawaii, even though I was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I had friends and family there. I had occasional visitors from the mainland, and I came back to Colorado to visit. And most of all, I could pick up my cell phone and talk to anyone for however long I wanted. That’s one of the hardest parts about being physically separated from friends and family. I’m lucky that I’m in Samoa at a time when there are internet connections and even cell phones here in country. That makes keeping contact much easier. But it’s prohibitively expensive to talk like we do back home. So I have conversations with my kids and my mother maybe once a month, all the time being aware of the cost and the time, and I try to keep up with others by email. It’s just not the same.

I will have accomplished what I came here to do – travel to new places, have an adventure, and hopefully make a positive contribution. I know that the kids whom I’ve taught in our little computer center will always remember me. Maybe as that funny old lady, but nonetheless, they will remember. And I can’t tell you how exciting and rewarding it is to see a 12-year old kid who had never seen a computer six months ago, walk into the center, turn on the computer, open up the program he wants to use, work on a project, open his file on the computer, save it, and move on to the next thing. Yesterday I had 20 kids there over the space of nearly three hours taking turns on our three computers.

My village of Poutasi is beautiful in many ways. Together we have done some positive things that hopefully will continue to evolve after I leave, but no matter how long I stayed I could never "finish" what I started. There would always be something more to do, even if I stayed here five years.

Mom’s surgery is scheduled for December 3, so I plan to come home by Thanksgiving. I'll continue to post blogs about my remaining time here in Samoa and the challenges as I adjust to life back in the States, which is part of my Peace Corps experience as well.

It will be good to be home.

I got a tattoo. There are not many Polynesian words that have entered the English language, but perhaps the most widely used is tattoo. Exactly where and when the word "tattoo" originated is open to debate, but it is certain that it was a corruption of the Polynesian word tatau, picked up by the early European sailors exploring the Southern Ocean.

I suppose that this is a good time to tell you that my tattoo is a small frangipani flower on the back of my right shoulder. It is lovely, but not conspicuous, especially compared to traditional Samoan tattoos. Of course not every Peace Corps volunteer in Samoa gets a tattoo, but a significant number of every group do so. Our Peace Corps Medical Officer even has a particular tattoo shop that she recommends.

Most Peace Corps volunteers opt for something traditional in design, emulating the tattoos that Samoan men and women wear, though somewhat less extensive. And most volunteers get their tattoos using the traditional tattooing implements – pointed metal combs (made of bone in the old days) dipped in ink and tapped into the skin with a wooden mallet.

I had the tattoo artist use his electric instruments because I wanted color which can’t be done with the traditional tools. It’s light red and yellow, just like a frangipani flower, with a black border design. I went in with an idea of what I wanted, and together with the tattooist, we came up with the finished pattern. It took only about a half hour. And yes, it hurt, but more at first. You kind of get used to it as it progresses, and I quickly figured out that it helped to take my mind away from the fact that I was getting punctured with needles to something else more pleasant.

Nearly all Samoan men and women have tattoos. It’s been part of their culture for centuries. Many have smaller tattoos, but the most traditional tattoos for men cover their bodies from their bellies to mid-thigh. The ink coverage is so extensive, and the design so intricate, that on first glance it looks like they are wearing very tight pants. The ships’ logs of many early explorers commented upon the presence of “britches” upon Samoan males. This type of tattoo is called a pe’a (pay´-uh) and needless to say it’s very painful. I’ve watched them do it. The master tattooist is assisted by up to six helpers all of whom wish to become masters themselves. One will be responsible for the mixing of the dyes, another is responsible for wiping away the blood, another for dipping the instruments into the dye and receiving instruments that have been used, another cleans and sharpens the teeth of the metal combs, and another will hold the skin tight. Young women sit by the person being tattooed, holding them down to stop them moving too much and massaging the head. It takes about 40 or 50 hours to do a traditional pe’a in several sessions. And yes, in case you’re wondering, it covers everything.

The tattoos applied to women are smaller and more delicate. The traditional ones cover an area wrapping around both thighs about ten inches in length. It’s called a malu.

It’s just one more thing that makes life in Samoa very interesting indeed.

I’ve written before about the beautiful ocean just a stone’s throw away from my house here in Poutasi. I spend a huge amount of time sitting by the sea in a small fale (fah´-lay) (a house with a peaked roof, often thatch, which is open on all four sides supported by posts). I read and write there. I talk to the kids who stop by. I watch the fishermen. I look at the always changing sea and clouds, and photograph sunset after sunset. I hardly know what I would do if I didn’t have that lovely place to sit and meditate and restore myself. Even in Samoa, some Peace Corps volunteers don’t have the ocean outside their back door.

It’s difficult to describe it to you adequately, so that you can appreciate how lovely it is. The water is crystal clear, and changes from shades of aquamarine to deep blue, depending on the time of day. I can see fish swimming by while sitting in my chair. The lagoon in front of the village is protected by an an island an a barrier reef. While the ocean waves crash on the reef creating an omnipresent roar of the surf, the water inside the reef is calm and shallow. There is deeper water near the island, but the rest of the lagoon is only about waist deep. Inland there are mangrove marshes where fresh springs feed into the ocean.

Earlier I wrote about receiving funding from the United Nations Development Project, Small Grants Program. Like everything here in Samoa it has been moving along slowly. One of the first things that we did, with the assistance of experts from the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment, was a baseline survey of the ocean lagoon and mangrove marshes. I went with them tramping through the marshes and snorkeling, taking underwater photos. As the joking saying goes, “A tough job, but someone has to do it!”

The really great news about that survey is that the coral inside the reef is healthy and recovering from previous damage. Much of the damage was from cyclones (hurricanes), but also from fishing with dynamite and poison in years past; that has since been outlawed. It’s great to see new coral polyps growing on the old dead coral. The mangrove marshes are also healthy with young mangrove trees growing naturally. And since coral and mangroves provide safe havens for small fish, it was also gratifying to see many small fish species too.

I won’t go into a lot of detail, but I’ve learned so much about the marine environment that I never knew. Mangroves are amazing trees that are not only part of the cycle of ocean life, but also protect the coastline from erosion and cyclone damage.

The original plan included coral gardening to restore the coral, cement fish houses (a space for the small fish to hide), and a mangrove nursery. Fortunately, we won’t need to do the coral gardening, fish houses, or the mangrove nursery; we just need to protect what we have.

After numerous meetings and delays, we have finally reached the point of marking the marine protected area (in Samoan fa’asao). An area is marked with cement anchors, ropes and floats, and also with upright sticks which are more visible. It is off-limits to fishermen, providing a protected area for the coral and the fish, clams, sea urchins, etc. – essentially a fish nursery. Some of the villagers were reluctant at first, thinking that it would reduce their ability to catch fish. But it was explained to them that the fish don’t know that the boundaries are there, and when they get big they will venture out from the reserved area and then they can catch them (and there will be more of them).

Now we are in the process of drafting a management plan for the project to be adopted by the village chiefs, and hopefully enforced. There will be fines paid to the village council if people fish in the protected area.

We also had a village cleanup this week which is technically part of the project. Poutasi is actually a pretty clean village compared to some others I’ve seen, but inevitably there is rubbish that accumulates. People burn their paper rubbish, but cans and plastics tend to accumulate in piles behind the houses. We provided bags (used 50 pound plastic flour bags) to everyone and told them to put the small items in the bags and put them on the road in front of their houses. Larger items such as old appliances and such could just be moved to the road. Then we had a truck come and pick up everything and take it to the landfill. The plan is for this to be an ongoing village activity once a month. Villagers also walked along the beach picking up rubbish that had accumulated there. We’ll be putting two large cages (about eight feet long and four feet high) on the two main roads in the village to hold recyclable plastic bottles to be picked up periodically.

The next major step is a five-day workshop in the village presented by a local non-profit, Small Business Enterprise Corporation. The main purpose of the workshop is to teach villagers how to set up and operate a small business in anticipation of some ecotourism projects in the village. This village has so much to offer. I visualize tourists in a hand-made outrigger canoe, paddled by a local guide who is telling them about this intricate beautiful ecosystem, silently slipping through the myriad channels of water with mangroves and giant ferns on all sides, hearing only the birds chirping and warbling. Then a trip to the uninhabited island with pristine beach and lush tropical foliage, where they can drink the water from a freshly picked coconut, eat a picnic lunch, swim and snorkel. Returning to the village they can be offered locally hand-made crafts to purchase. To the east and west of the village are popular tourist beaches and resorts. Nearly every tourist who rents a car drives down the road which intersects with the road into the village.

There are other aspects of the project yet to be completed – planting more native trees along the waterfront at the ocean and the natural springs to reduce erosion, and repairing a small water reservoir at one of the natural springs that no longer holds water.

Of course the plan is for all of this to continue long after I leave the village. I’m hopeful that it will not only create a source of viable income, but also help preserve and protect this wonderful place for future generations.

One of the many challenges of being in Peace Corps is that you don’t have your own space. You don’t realize it until you don’t have it, but a lot of what we do on a daily basis involves that space. When you own or rent a house or an apartment, which you are making your home for however long, you have that space to inhabit. You paint, decorate and redecorate, rearrange the furniture, plant flowers, mow the grass, buy stuff, have friends over for dinner or to watch the football game, have a pet, work on your hobbies, watch TV at night. When you don’t do any of those things, it leaves a lot of time to fill.

It differs for each volunteer – a few have their own apartments or houses – but most of us are in someone else’s home, and for every volunteer it’s always temporary. You know you’ll be going back with the two suitcases you came with and little else. In my case, I have a room in the house of a wonderful and kind family, but it’s not my space, and there’s only 290 square feet of it. That means that I have a lot of time and very little space.

Four days after I got back from American Samoa I went to Australia. I was only there for eight days, which wasn’t nearly long enough, but I’ll just have to go back again someday. I met my friend Rosi, from Colorado, in Brisbane and we explored together.

The first thing one is aware of on any trip flying easterly to Australia is the International Dateline. Such a weird thing – all of a sudden, poof! Yesterday never existed! Samoa is the last country before the dateline, so we have the last sunset on the planet here each day.The first evening in my hotel room I took a hot shower, and that felt so good that I filled the bathtub and took a long, hot bath. Hot water will definitely be one of the things on my list of the things that I missed most while in Peace Corps! Then I got to watch the TODAY show, which came on at 4:00 am local time, which is when I awoke since it’s a three-hour time difference from Samoa. I know that showers and TV aren’t normally the highlights of one’s vacation, but when you don’t have either, they are appreciated!

The first day, Rosi and I drove north toward Noosa. Driving is really a challenge in Australia, not only because you’re driving on the “wrong side” of the road, but because they have roundabouts instead of stoplights. You are concentrating on watching traffic, and trying to stay in the correct lane, and then you have to look for a sign and make your way through the roundabout, and hopefully get on the right road. A couple of times we didn’t execute that entire process and had to back track, but ultimately we managed to get where we wanted to go and back again.On a whim, we stopped at Mount Beerburrum and decided to walk the trail to the top. The sign said: “Steep Path.” Believe the signs in Australia! It was a paved trail, but it was nearly a 45º angle all the way to the top with no steps. Just like this: ∕ . All the way. It’s “only” 280 meters high and the hike is “only” 700 meters long, but it was tough. Our hearts were thumping and our lungs were pumping. It was one of those times when you wanted to go back, but you’d come so far that you didn’t want to go back. I wish I could say that the view from the top was worth it. It was a lovely 360º view of the surrounding farmland, the Glass House mountains, and the far away sea, but we needed more than “lovely” at that point. “Stupendous,” “magnificent,” maybe. But no. Nonetheless, we can say we climbed Mount Beerburrum and that was no small feat!

On our way to Noosa we also stopped at the iconic Australia Zoo, Steve Irwin’s legacy to Australia. It was fun. Australia’s animals are amazing of course! Although it was a treat to be able to walk amongst the kangaroos and even feed them out of your hand at the zoo, we also saw kangaroos grazing in the fields as we drove and even spotted a koala in a eucalyptus tree in one of the national parks.We stayed for the next couple of days at Sunshine Beach at our “holiday apartment,” which is Australian for condo. We had an ocean view and rainbow lorikeets landing on the tree beside our balcony. They are incredibly beautiful birds with vivid red, green, blue, and orange feathers.

While I was there I had to buy a couple of long-sleeved shirts and a pair of canvas shoes, which I didn’t have in Samoa to bring with me. It’s late winter in Australia, but Brisbane is far enough north that the weather was mild. It was between 70º and 75º, but cooler at night than I’m used to.We took a short flight to Lady Elliot Island, which is the only island in the Great Barrier Reef with a landing strip. We spent the day there and went out on a small boat. I was finally able to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef – one of the things on my “Bucket List.” (In case you haven’t heard that term – the things to do before I “kick the bucket.”) It was awesome!

There I was, floating in the Coral Sea, on the Tropic of Capricorn, blue sky above, crystal clear water below. I was in water about 20 meters deep, clearly able to see to the sunlit sand beneath. Vividly colorful fish were everywhere – yellow, orange, blue, striped, spotted, all of the above. I’ve snorkeled in Hawaii and Samoa, but this was special!Other highlights – Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, a Picasso exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art, forest walks listening to marvelous birds, great food, fun shopping!

I go to New Zealand in October – how lucky I am!

Part I – American Samoa: A Little History

One of the many benefits of serving in the Peace Corps is being able to visit other countries nearby. In July I went to Pago Pago [pronounced Pango Pango, with an “a” like in mama] in American Samoa for three days.

Many people thought I was going to the Peace Corps in American Samoa, since, if they had heard of the islands at all, it was probably American Samoa that they knew about. (American Samoa is an American territory and Peace Corps doesn’t send volunteers to American territories.) To explain the difference between the two Samoas and to set the stage for my visit, I’ll give you a brief history lesson.

During the days of colonization by western powers all over the world, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States all had interests in Samoa which was then one nation of 11 islands. In the 1850’s and 60’s, German merchants established thriving businesses exporting coconut oil and cotton. They developed many large coconut plantations, where coconut trees were planted in perfectly straight lines with proper separation between them to insure maximum yield. Cotton was planted between the rows of coconut trees. One of the families in my village has the surname of Wolfe. Their great-grandfather Wolfe, who married a local Samoan woman, built a western-style house in the village which has many typical European design touches. (They, however, live mostly in the traditional Samoan fale (a house that is open on all four sides with a thatched roof) that they’ve built next to it.)

In the 1830’s missionaries from the London Missionary Society came to Samoa. By the 1870’s, both Australia and New Zealand had become important British colonial outposts in the Pacific. Local British businessmen and government leaders in New Zealand were concerned about the expanding German influence in Samoa.

Meanwhile, although Americans had established some small businesses in Samoa, it was the United States Navy which took a larger interest. The major problems facing the steamers of the day were limited fuel capacity and lack of coaling stations along their routes. In 1871, Captain Wakeman reported that “Pago Pago was the best harbor in the South Pacific” and that the harbor was about to fall into German hands due to a lack of US interest in the Samoan Islands.

During this time, there was also a civil war on one of the main islands. The Germans seized the opportunity they saw and began trading guns for land.

In 1878, threatened by German authority and facing rebellion by rival factions, the Samoan leaders decided that continuance of their government could only be found under the protection of either the US or Great Britain. Samoan delegates were sent to Fiji and Washington, DC. The delegates were warmly received in Fiji, but the Great Britain representatives there could give the Samoans nothing but personal support for their government. The delegate to Washington fared much better. The result of his visit was a treaty between the US and Samoa providing peace and friendship between the two countries for ten years and it included these important provisions: 1) it was renewable, and 2) it confirmed the right of the US to establish a naval station at Pago Pago.

Fast forward to 1899. German interests in Samoa were too big – and too important – to be allowed to fall under British or American influence. After years of conflict and civil war, which were complicated by support of various local factions by the three foreign powers, in 1899 a decision was agreed upon between all three nations. The US accepted the seven small islands of “Eastern” Samoa; the remaining four islands were to come under German control; and Great Britain relinquished all official claims and accepted in return Germany’s rights in Tonga, the Solomon Islands, and West Africa. The Samoans of these eastern islands, to be known as American Samoa, who had asked over 20 years before to be a protectorate of the US, responded with a Deed of Cession.

On August 6, 1914, German Samoa’s governor learned via wireless that war had begun in Europe. He and his administration decided not to resist an invasion by British forces, as he knew Samoan loyalty to the German interests was doubtful. That same day a telegram was sent to New Zealand’s governor to seize Samoa. British and French battle cruisers entered Apia harbor on August 29th. Not a single shot was fired by either side. In a matter of hours German Samoa ceased to exist.

Until 1962, when it became an independent nation, Western Samoa was a protectorate of New Zealand. In 1997, the name of the country was officially changed from Western Samoa to Samoa. But as many of you have found when you tried to send mail to me, you often still need to use the designation “Western Samoa.”

Up until WWII, life in American Samoa continued with little change from previous times. Some of your fathers or grandfathers may have been to Pago Pago if they served in the Pacific during WWII. Fortunately there was only one Japanese submarine attack on American Samoa which did little damage and no lives were lost. (The Japanese battle plans did include a full-scale invasion of the Samoan Islands on their way to Australia and New Zealand, but they were stopped in other South Pacific battles before they reached that far south.) However, the US Naval Station became a major military establishment and the Samoan Islands formed a strategic base for Allied operations in the Pacific. The Marine Corps and Naval personnel stationed there outnumbered the Samoan population.

The sheer numbers of men and materiel dramatically upset the ancient rhythms of American Samoa. Thousands of men were filing through on their way to Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and other battles. The US Naval Hospital had 65 buildings with wards for 140 beds. When wounded sailors from the battle at Guadalcanal began arriving, the facilities were overwhelmed. Seabees began constructing 45 additional Quonset huts. Working ten hours a day, seven days a week, they barely kept up with the arrival of casualties.

From the beginning of the military buildup in American Samoa in 1941, the local population welcomed the presence of the Navy and Marine Corps with open arms. As USMC units were stationed in remote villages, those villages treated the Marines as special guests. Individual families would house and feed small groups of Marines, wash their clothes, and tend to their housekeeping. Deep and sincere friendships developed between the Marines and the villagers. Samoans taught young men from Iowa or Vermont how to fish with nets or spears, how to climb coconut trees and husk the nuts. Many gave military gear and clothing to their Samoan families and friends – canteens, k-rations, hats, as well as those special treats loved by everyone: candy and chocolate.

When the time came for Marine units to ship out, there was heartfelt sadness by both Samoans and Marines. Of course many sailors had become romantically involved with beautiful young island women. The end result, after nearly five years of military presence, were the births of a number of children whose Navy and Marine Corps fathers were fighting in faraway battles, many of them never to return.

There is now only a military and civilian ship depot; the naval station was closed in 1951. However, there is a new US army reserve center in American Samoa.

WWII had a tremendous – and nearly incalculable – social and economic impact on American Samoa. Like most of the other South Pacific Island groups which served as military bases for the US, American Samoa inherited material assets and wants far beyond the territory’s ability to support and maintain. The Marines brought roads, electric power, and telephones. The military provided wage-paying jobs, highly preferable to young Samoans who otherwise would be working taro or banana plantations. When the majority of jobs left with the military, young Samoans were reluctant to return to the seemingly drab work of fishing or farming.

The military also introduced the younger Samoan generation to the tastes of America: ice cream, movies, ready-made clothing, accessible transportation, even shoes. The military had departed, but the people of American Samoa had experienced new American ways and they were eager to maintain them. Life in American Samoa would never be the same.

One particular lasting impact of the military presence in American Samoa was the enlistment of young Samoan men and women in the military. This tradition continues today with many young men and women serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, nine of whom have lost their lives there.

Things really began to change in American Samoa in the 1960’s. An American magazine published an article entitled, “America’s Shame in the South Seas,” which examined the simple subsistence lifestyle enjoyed by the American Samoans and determined it to be poverty by US standards. In response, Congress appropriated large amounts and, almost overnight, American Samoa became a Great Society construction project. Development was fast-tracked – new roads were built and western style homes replaced traditional Samoan houses, along with water projects, harbor facilities, an international airport, a new hospital, and tuna canneries.

In 1970 American Samoans elected their first “delegate-at-large” to Washington, DC, but it was not until 1981 that the territory was represented with a nonvoting member in the US House of Representatives. Ironically, American Samoans can vote for the party nominees for the presidential race, but cannot vote in the election itself. They are not US citizens, but US nationals and are free to move to Hawaii, Alaska or the US mainland, which many have done and continue to do.

Part II – My Visit

American Samoa is very American and very Samoan. I was reminded of some of the rural areas of Hawaii. Yet, and this is true of both Samoa and American Samoa, more than any other Polynesian people, Samoans have maintained their traditional way of life and still follow customs established long before the arrival of Europeans or Americans.

“One family, one culture, one country – two different forms of government.” This statement was made by one of the speakers at an event that I attended during my visit. Despite the American influence and official status as a US territory, it is still Samoa. Everyone speaks English, but Samoan is the everyday language. People were surprised and pleased when I was able to converse in Samoan.

The timing for my visit to American Samoa was to see the Festival of Pacific Arts (more about that later). When I asked my Samoan family in Poutasi what would be a good place to stay when I went to the festival, they said, “Oh, you can stay with cousin Rosana!” So I stayed with a family there who were extraordinarily kind to me. They picked me up and dropped me off at the airport, took me to the venue of the festival where I spent two fabulous days, provided a comfy bed and hot shower, and took me sightseeing the third day.

All of American Samoa is only 76 square miles. The main island of Tutuila, where Pago Pago is located, is breathtakingly beautiful. The population of American Samoa is only about 60,000 with nearly everyone living on Tutuila. There are two tuna canneries which employ 5,000 workers (and when the wind is right give the whole area a decidedly fishy smell I’ve been told, but fortunately not when I was there), and except for a relatively small number of employees in service industries, almost everyone else is employed directly or indirectly by the government. A small population serviced by an enormous bureaucracy is a common South Pacific phenomenon.

Back to the Festival of Pacific Arts, which was the impetus for my visit . . . . This was the 10th festival which is hosted every four years by one of the island nations in the Pacific. I was lucky that it was close enough this year for me to see it. (American Samoa is only 70 miles away - $145 round trip airfare.)

People from 22 island groups attended the festival from islands that most of you have never heard of like Nauru and Palau, to Australia and New Zealand, and Hawaii. There were numerous arts and crafts activities, demonstrations, and workshops going on for ten days. I couldn’t go for the whole time so I opted to go for the last two days, which included the closing ceremony, and I had one day for sightseeing.

There were canoe makers, tattoo artists, tapa (bark cloth) artists, and many similar activities which were all fascinating and enjoyable. Each country had set up a fale in the festival village in a large grassy area where they were selling handicrafts and doing demonstrations. I met a Samoan woman who told me that the land where the festival village was built was given to the United States by her family for the naval hospital during the war. It’s now the playing field for American Samoa Community College.

I love to watch dance, and I did a lot of it. Both days there I watched hours and hours of native dancers from Tahiti, Wallis & Futuna, Hawaii, New Caledonia, Guam, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, American Samoa, the Cook Islands, and the Solomon Islands. In their picturesque native costumes, the dancers told stories with swaying hips and expressive hands of long ago battles won, lovers reunited, or the feats of the ancient gods

There was a big public discussion before the festival, which was covered thoroughly by the media here in Samoa, about whether women dancers who traditionally dance topless should be allowed to do so. Since both Samoa and American Samoa are deeply conservative, religious countries, it was quite an issue. Some years ago when the festival was held in Samoa, a woman dancer from Papua New Guinea was slapped by a Samoan man because of her “nakedness.” The discussions were very one-sided as is often the case on issues of gender. No one seemed to care that the handsome young men from Rapa Nui (Easter Island) danced with the male version of a g-string. In the end, everyone was allowed to dance their traditional dances in whatever manner they wanted. Women from the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea were indeed topless. All of the dancing was magnificent, moving, and very entertaining. At the closing ceremony, there were 50 Samoan fire knife dancers performing all together.

The day after the festival, we drove the one main road along the south side of the island (Route 1). I’ve already mentioned the magnificent harbor at Pago Pago – a bowl of water dotted with ships and yachts, surrounded by towering peaks and sheer cliffs. Along the coast there are bays with aquamarine water, bleached sand, or rock-stubbled foreshores, nodding palms, and snoozing villages. Forested mountains rise up behind it all to converge on a jagged central ridge.

We drove across the middle of the island to the small village of Fagasa. My hosts told me how they villagers fish for mackerel (akule). When they see the fish in the clear water of the shallow bay, everyone – men, women and children – goes into the water with palm fronds. They beat the water and herd the fish into waiting nets. It’s forbidden to sell the fish; they are shared in the village or given away.

It was a great trip!

Life is perilous sometimes in the middle of the South Pacific. Within the last month there have been three accidents that took the lives of Samoans who lived in neighboring villages.

The Yellow Bus: The first was a bus accident on June 21st when three people were killed. The bus was going too fast down a hill on a narrow road. It’s amazing that most on the bus had only relatively minor injuries. One of those killed was a 13-year old boy who was one of the students of a Peace Corps teacher in Tafatafa three villages down the road from me.

There was an optional meeting at the Peace Corps office that day and I decided not to go. If I had gone, I would have been on that bus on my way home since I wouldn’t have been able to catch my regular bus after the meeting. I hesitate to tell you about this, as I’m afraid you might worry about me, but as you can see Someone was looking out for me.

When I first came to Poutasi, my Samoan family told me not to ride the yellow bus – that it wasn’t safe. They said that the owner of the yellow buses (there are three) had given the official at the government ministry a red pickup truck and then he just signed off on the inspection paperwork. The PC from Tafatafa said she had seen one of the drivers drinking beer on the bus. So I have only ridden on that bus three or four times when there was no other choice because it’s the last bus of the day.

As I’ve told you in the past, I usually take the red bus driven by my next door neighbor even though it goes the long way around the end of the island to get to Apia, making a two-hour ride each way. There is one other bus, a green one, which makes several trips during the day that I ride sometimes too, since my neighbor just makes one round trip leaving at 6:00 am and returning at 6:30 pm. The yellow bus and the green bus took the route directly over the mountain on the Tiavi Cross Island Road which only takes about an hour. This week on Monday because of the accident the government minister banned buses on the Cross Island Road. (Yes, he can do that without input or public hearing of any sort.) So now I have no option other than four hours on a bus when I go to town (unless I can catch a ride with someone from the village). It’s typical of Samoa that they would make a quick “fix” like this, and of course the two other yellow buses are still on the road.

The Navigator Islands: On June 28th two fishermen from the next village over were lost at sea outside the reef of the small bay of our village. There were three of them in a small motorized fishing boat early in the morning. It was still dark and they miscalculated and drove the boat onto the reef where it capsized and sank. Initially each had something to hold onto in the water - ice chests, etc. They were together in the water for awhile and then got separated. One young man swam to shore to Poutasi and the others didn’t make it.

The islands of Samoa were christened The Navigator Islands by French explorer Bougainville in 1768. While the name didn’t stick, since they already had a name (ah, the arrogance of European “civilized” explorers), it was apt since the Samoans were indisputably some of the world’s best sailors of the open ocean centuries before those civilized explorers even ventured out of sight of the shoreline.

Someday I’ll write more about the outrigger canoes in my village and the revival throughout the Pacific of the early methods of navigating by the stars, the clouds, and the sea. But for the moment, I’ll just mention that an early Polynesian navigator could stand with feet firmly planted on the deck of his double-hulled sailing canoe and sense the direction and movement of swells through his feet right up through his body. The complex patterns produced by swells of the ocean that are refracted and reflected among the islands were understood by these men. This knowledge was especially important when canoes neared the vicinity of an island on a dark, moonless night, allowing the navigator to stay clear of the surrounding reefs until daylight.

In our modern era, accidents happen instead.

Rugby, or as they say in Samoan, Lakapi: The end of the following week a young man from another village nearby broke his neck and died playing rugby. He was 17. As you may know, rugby is a hugely popular sport here and every village has a local team.

Samoans are serious about rugby. Manu Samoa, the national professional team, is ranked in the top 20 in the world, which is amazing considering that they come from a speck of land in the middle of the Pacific with only 180,000 people.

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In Samoa it seems that everyone knows or is related to someone who is related to your family so this has been a difficult time for many local people.

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On a totally different subject . . .

At the village council meeting on Monday last week a man was banished from the village. That means that he had to pack up his belongings and leave the village forever and go live with family in another village. He’s a man whom I know well (he was on the Learning Centre Committee and a deacon of the church). He’s been having an affair with a married woman. Her family will have to pay a fine to the council of chiefs - $1,000WST and a cow (which is worth about $1,000WST). The cow will be butchered and shared amongst the chiefs. This is a significant fine for a family who makes their living as subsistence farmers and fishermen. (In US dollars this is about $835 total, including the cow.)

I knew about banishment, but I thought it usually only applied to serious crimes or was employed when other forms of customary penalty, such as fines and ostracism from village affairs had failed. Maybe there’s some history there that I don’t know about.

Not only are there no secrets in a Samoan village, can you imagine your affairs (pun intended) being discussed publicly by the entire village?

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So life here is kind of like living in a soap opera sometimes – there are lots of happy, peaceful times in the lives of the people, but the unexpected is always just around the corner.

Ten-year old Poiva always seems to have an impish grin on his coppery-brown face with his dark, mischievous eyes. Last week he was teaching me how to fish with a spool of fishing line, a hook, and some bait. Standing on the beach, you put the bait firmly on the hook, twirl a couple of feet of line over your head with the hook on the end (hence the “firmly”). Then you let it fly and gradually pull it in, winding the fish line on the spool with a stick in the middle. Of course I didn’t catch a thing, but I watched him pull in three pan-size fish. This week I was teaching him how to use a computer.

Poiva’s 12-year old brother, Milana, loves to make flags with the Paint program on the computer. After making flags of several of the Pacific island nations last week, he is now branching out to the rest of the world. Using an atlas in the homework center with four pages with flags of the world, he made Israel and Jamaica yesterday. Then we looked to see where these countries are on the map.

High school senior Pene is learning how to type with the Typing Tutor program. She is a shy, beautiful young girl with her long black hair in braids. Last night she finished a research paper (with some help on the typing from me) on running a small business. To write the paper she interviewed the owner of a small general store.

Siliafai is sixty, pleasantly plump, with a ready smile and a twinkle in her eye. She learned how to type on a typewriter when she was young, but had never used a computer until last Saturday. Now she can turn it on, go to Word, and type a letter to her family in New Zealand.

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I’ve been trying to think about how to begin to write about how things are going at the Poutasi Learning Center. I finally realized that the best way is to write about the people, especially the children, because that’s what it’s all about. I facilitated the process of making a storeroom into a computer center, stacked some books and puzzles on the shelves, and have begun to share my meager computer skills. None of those things are very significant, but putting it together with the people has made it into quite an exciting place.

The first day I had over 20 kids show up to use three computers and one laptop. Now we have a schedule – two times each week for boys and two times each week for girls, with separate times for typing and other computer lessons. They still have to take turns of course.

I started with the Paint program. It helps them to learn to use a mouse and how to open and close a program and save a file. I’ve also put educational games on the computers. They can do anything they want for free during the two times each week for boys and girls. There is a small fee for lessons, printing, or copying and that’s been so successful that we have over $100 (Samoan tala) in less than one month. We got our first electric bill of $6, so I’ll save the rest of the money for toner ($400 for one cartridge), paper, and a maintenance fund.

Truthfully, I was really anxious about whether it would work as we envisioned, and if I could teach computers. So I’m relieved and happy to report that I walk to my house after an afternoon at the center with a big smile on my face.

This has been an exciting week in the village of Poutasi. On Monday we had the Grand Opening of the Poutasi Learning Center. Sometimes I get frustrated with the traditional Samoan ceremonies that go on and on and on, but this time I enjoyed every minute of it.

This is a project that the village told me that they wanted when I first got here in August of last year. It took nine months to do what I probably could have done in about one month in the States, but that’s okay. That’s just how it goes in Samoa.

Some of you will remember when I sent an email last fall telling you that we had received a donation of some used computers from the Mormon Church in Samoa. On behalf of the village I requested $2,500US from the New Zealand High Commission to help remodel a small storage room in the church hall into a computer center. We got the grant which was used for lumber, electrical work, a fan, and a printer/copier. People in the village donated labor and materials as well. Friends from the States donated a computer (Thank you Carol!) and a monitor (Thank you Dana!), a laptop (Thank you Kim!), and 20 books (Thank you everyone!). There are shelves for a small library, especially reference books.

We’re in a school break right now, but when school resumes on June 9th we’ll have an after school homework center. We’ll start with two nights a week when kids can come to the church hall and get help with their homework. We are blessed to have several teachers living in the village, and they will rotate as volunteers to help.

The computer center will be for everyone one in the village to use. Those adults or young people who know how to use computers can come and use it, and I’ll teach basic computer lessons to those who want to learn. Computer classes are taught in some of the schools, but no one in the village has a computer in their home. There will be small fees ($.50US/hour for students and $1.00US/hour for adults) for computer lessons and printing/copies ($.25US/page). This money will (hopefully) pay for the electricity, supplies, and a small maintenance fund. It’s not connected to a phone line for internet right now, although we could do that in the future.

At the Grand Opening of course everyone was dressed in their best and there were leis for the dignitaries. There were speeches and a ribbon cutting. Then we had an ava ceremony with the chiefs of the village, and food, which no Samoan celebration would be complete without. After the food, there was a presentation of gifts to the honored guests. Besides reps from the NZ High Commission, the Director of Peace Corps Samoa was there, and reps from the government ministry that works with Peace Corps. The village presented each with fine woven mats and roast suckling pigs in baskets woven from coconut fronds. After that there was music and Samoan dancing. This took about three hours, then three other Peace Corps volunteers joined me and we did face painting and crafts with the children of the village. There are about 60 primary school age children in the village, and I think they were all there! It was a lot of fun.

Then I walked home and took a nap – Samoan style.

Thanks again for all of your support – whether it’s a donation for the village, a care package, an email, or just your positive thoughts beamed in my direction. Poutasi is a lovely village with picture postcard views of the beautiful Pacific, whose kind and gentle people have made me feel welcome, but it’s not easy sometimes. Nobody said it would be easy, but it’s a good feeling to have accomplished this tangible thing that will hopefully continue long after I’m gone from Samoa.

Pacific time . . . . You may think that Samoa is in a time zone just like all those distributed around the world, but you would be wrong. Yes, technically, if you are measuring such temporal necessities, our clocks are set one hour earlier than Hawai’i, and we are just miles from the International Dateline. But the reality is that Samoa (and this applies to most of the Pacific Islands), is in its own time zone called, “Whenever.”

Here’s how things work here:

Last week I visited the primary school in the neighboring village where Poutasi kids go to school. I told the principal that I would like to help at the school and he asked me to come back on Monday at 11:30. I saw him in the village on Thursday last week and we talked about it again. So yesterday I walked the two miles to the school on a very hot day, and he wasn’t there.

We received about $2,000US from the New Zealand High Commission to buy a printer/copier and do some minor remodeling needed for our small village computer center/homework center. Last Friday the electrician was supposed to come give an estimate for the minor electrical work we need, and I still haven’t seen or heard from him.

Speaking of the computer center, my contact at the NZ Commission told me the funding committee would be meeting the first week in March. Well, they didn’t meet, but told me they would meet the following week. They didn’t of course, but were supposed to meet the next week. Suffice to say, that they finally met in April.

Two weeks ago we scheduled a committee meeting to talk about some projects here in the village. Two people of six on the committee showed up, and one of them came 45 minutes after the appointed starting time

I could go on and on.

Sometimes one visits other countries where the concept of time is similar, but usually you’re on vacation, and it’s charmingly refreshing. Of course with my inherited penchant for efficiency from my German forefathers, and my American ways of doing things, neither “charming” nor “refreshing” are words that have come to mind when it happens to me here in Samoa. That said, I’ve become much more patient and understanding. I never actually expect things to happen when they say they will, and so occasionally I’m pleasantly surprised.

I thought that living in Hawai’i would prepare me somewhat for living in Wheneverland. Life moves at a slower pace there too, compared to the mainland. But I will never again complain about living on Hawaiian time. I’m sure it will seem positively punctual in comparison. However, a phrase from the pidgin language of Hawai’i serves well here too – “bum bye.” When the missionaries came to Hawai’i they taught the Hawaiians many traditional hymns. One of the hymns was “In the Sweet Bye and Bye,” which loosely explained, means that we’ll get to heaven someday – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday – bye and bye. So it became “bum bye” in pidgin, and means I’ll get around to it one of these days.

So, I sign off from Samoa for today with high hopes for getting things done tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever . . . bum bye.

I was thinking the other day about the ups and downs one has as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Frustration, anger, hurt feelings, misunderstandings, loneliness, boredom, inertia – friendship, exhilaration, gratitude, kindness, satisfaction, appreciation, amusement. Sweat, lice, diarrhea, bugs, pisupo*, leg cramps**, cold showers – sea breezes, beaches, mangoes, sunsets, snorkeling, no shoes, the laughter of children.

It’s like being on a small boat at sea. Sometimes the ocean swells are coming from afar, and even though the weather is fine in Samoa, you can feel the effect of a storm thousands of miles away. Sometimes the sea is rough and your fragile boat rises with a huge wave and then plunges into the trough, over and over again. Once in awhile a storm threatens and you are caught unawares, holding on for dear life, hoping you will live to tell the tale. And sometimes, it is blessedly peaceful, and you glide over the crystal clear water with ease, a few white fluffy clouds in the brilliantly blue sky, the warmth of the sun on your back, looking to the horizon with anticipation.

*Fatty canned corned beef that looks like dog food.

** From sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours.

Samoans bury their dead in elaborate graves in front of the main house of their family compound. Called tia, the graves are often two or three tiers high and are decorated with natural stone or sometimes painted. It’s a comfort that the departed are still close by and it’s a convenient place to sit in the cool of the evening.

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Some of the western-style clothing and accessories worn by Samoans makes me smile. You may see a muscular 18-year old Samoan guy with a Winnie the Pooh backpack, or an old woman with a dirty slogan in English on her t-shirt. Samoans like a little flash, and sunglasses with rhinestone trim are worn by men or women. Fake Crocs are all the fashion here now and it doesn’t matter if a guy is wearing pink ones.

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You can always tell when a ship from China has come with some new product. Lately the little shops have all been selling synthetic hair pieces for women – circles of curls, switches, etc. The Samoan women wear them as hair accessories, regardless of the color.

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Folding money is easy to slip into the folds of a lavalava around your waist, but what do you do with the coins? Put them in your ear.

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Samoan kids never get bedtime stories, a good night kiss, or get tucked into their beds at night. I know that it’s an American/European custom, but it’s a nice one. They don’t even have a set bedtime or get told to go to bed. They fall asleep whenever they feel like it, which is usually late by American standards – 10:00 pm or later. They nap in the afternoons to make up for it. Of course it’s hard to put a kid “to bed” when the whole family sleeps together on mats on the floor in the same room.

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As I’ve mentioned, Samoans have an elaborate system of respect and polite interaction. So I was shocked to find that it all goes by the wayside when it comes to waiting in lines. At the movie theater people will gather in front of the ticket taker in a sort of bulbous line, and then when he begins to take tickets, there is a mad rush with people literally pushing and shoving to get in. There’s no deference to age or sex. It’s the same to get on the bus in Apia if there is a large group of people gathered waiting when the bus arrives. It’s like they were escaping from a burning building.

I get up at 5:15 when the alarm goes off. I’m not usually ready to awaken yet. It’s still dark. There’s no water from the tap yet at this time of the day, so I use water from my storage bottles to wash my face and brush my teeth. Sometimes I heat a little bit of water in my electric teapot and splash warm water on my face – a treat! (For those of you who don’t know – we have no hot water from the tap.) I make sure I have everything for the day in town – take the sheets off the bed if I’m taking laundry, umbrella, money, paperwork, books to return to the PC office, something to read on the bus, flash drive, sometimes my camera, etc. A little before 6:00 I start watching out my window for Afakasi to start the bus.

Afakasi lives in the family compound next to us and drives a fire-engine-red red bus to Apia Monday through Saturday. There are no Sunday buses. Even though going on Afakasi’s bus is the long way (instead of taking the cross-island bus which I could catch on the main road and which would take me to Apia in a little over an hour, instead of two hours), I much prefer it for several reasons. First of all, it’s so convenient. I can walk out my front door and get on the bus with no waiting and get a good seat. The seats are comfortable, “normal” bus seats compared to the wooden benches on the other buses. I don’t have to carry my bags to, or especially from, the main road (about a half mile walk). And lastly, many of the passengers on the bus are people from Poutasi or neighboring villages who I know.

When he starts the bus I walk over, and because I’m the first on the bus, I always get the seat I want, which is the left front seat by the window. It’s cooler and more comfortable by the window; there’s more leg room in the front and therefore room for my bags in front of my feet; and, because I’m usually one of the first off of the bus, it’s much easier to get off. I usually have a number of people sit beside me during the ride to Apia. Someone will sit there – say a middle-aged man for example. When an older man gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to him and move back. If an elderly woman then gets on the bus, he’ll give up the seat to her and move back. If there are no seats left at that point, someone younger will give up their seat to the elderly man and so on. By the time we’ve picked up all of the passengers there are people standing in the aisles, sometimes all the way to the front door, and sitting on each another’s laps.

I’ve been riding the bus from Poutasi to Apia and back for six months now at least once a week, and I still enjoy the ride. Sometimes I nap or read, but more often than not I just look out the window, relax, daydream, and enjoy the scenery which is stunningly beautiful. I also enjoy watching the people as we drive through villages along the way.

In the early morning it’s cool – yesterday I actually used an ‘ie (a piece of cloth which wraps around as a long skirt) from my laundry tote as a shawl as it was really chilly (at least to me in this tropical climate – it was probably only about 70!). We drive into the sunrise with shades of pink and orange and blue blending together on the horizon.

There are usually about a dozen or so people from Poutasi who get on the bus and then we stop at every village along the way, and in between, until we get to Salani. To catch a ride on a Samoan bus you don’t need to wait at a bus stop. You just wait on the road in front of your house and the bus will stop for you. Sometimes Kasi stops for someone to get on, and then stops again 100 feet down the road.

At Salani we cease traveling along the southeastern coast and turn to climb the road to Le Mafa Pass (which is redundant, since mafa means pass, but that’s what it’s called on the maps and signs). There are magnificent views all along the way, especially on this stretch of road. Although the pass is only about 1,000 feet in elevation, and the tallest surrounding mountains are only a little over 3,000 feet, the view from the pass is amazing. There is a steep descent to the river valley below and you can see all the way to the ocean, about seven miles away. The valley and the surrounding hillsides are lush with tropical vegetation – tree ferns twenty feet tall, coconut palms, towering banyan trees snaking roots to the ground, teak trees with leaves the size of placemats, and an under story of vines and ferns. In the sunshine everything is vibrantly green with a brilliant blue sky and white puffy clouds. Sometimes early in the morning the clouds are below us and wind their way through the valley below as if looking for a way out.

When the bus climbs up the mountain it creaks and groans and Kasi downshifts and urges it along. Let’s say the average Samoan weighs 200 lbs. With about 70 people (on a bus with 29 seats) this is seven tons of people! Yes, there are a few children on the bus as well, but there are also many Samoans who weigh well over 200 lbs, and there are bags and baskets of produce to be sold at the market in Apia.

There are a few homes along the mountain road, but no villages. After we make the descent from the pass we begin to drive through villages again, all the way to Apia. We pass Falefa falls and drive beside the roaring Falefa river. Now we’re on the north side of the island with waves crashing close to shore with the white foam of the breakers sometimes spraying onto the rocks along the side of the road.

Naturally it’s usually about this time that I’ve been lulled into getting sleepy when we’re only about a half hour from Apia. Sometimes I give in and nap a little. Then it’s time to tell Kasi, “Taofi i le Ofisa Pisikoa fa’amolemole,” and he stops on the street in front of the Peace Corps office. I’m in Apia for the day and it’s about 8:00 am.

After a day of shopping, email, other Apia errands, and lunch in a restaurant – a real extravagance – I head home. Although the bus doesn’t leave to head back to Poutasi until 4:30, I try to get there between 3:30 and 4:00 to get a good seat. The last time I didn’t get there early enough and I sat about four seats back in the bus wedged between a very fat man sitting by the window on my right with a snotty kid on his lap, and another very fat man standing in the aisle next to me who was smoking (yes, people smoke on Samoan buses). You might wonder why no one gave up his/her seat to me. Well, actually they did. The bus was totally full already and someone gave up that seat to me. But the good news was, that meant I’m just one of the villagers and no one felt they had to give me the best seat on the bus!

But assuming I get there early, I usually read while I’m waiting for the bus to leave. It’s very hot sitting there in the bus waiting. By the time the bus leaves I’m usually hot and sweaty all over down to the roots of my hair. Got to keep that seat though!

Yesterday Mataomanu sat by me with her four-year old grandson Sam on her lap. She lives in Poutasi, is the president of the Women’s Committee in the village, and a 3rd grade teacher at the primary school. She’s a very pretty, plump older woman and I like her very much. She wears wire-rimmed glasses and has a merry look about her. If she was fair of skin and wearing red velvet instead of tropical prints, she would look like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her husband is Meleisea, one of the high chiefs of the village, and he reminds me of my dad. I’ve been trying to figure out why – he doesn’t look anything like him, except that he’s balding – but now that I think about it, I think I do know why. He always has a smile for everyone. But I digress . . .

So we begin the journey home. A couple of miles out of town we stop at Pacific Express, a small general store, where most people get off the bus for drinks, snacks, and a few last minute groceries. Then it finally begins to cool off when we get going again with the wind blowing in the open window. The CD on the bus is playing loud Samoan music, and this same CD will play over and over again all the way home. The air is wet and the colors are intense from the rain shower just past. The sea and the coconut palms rush by on my left; the forest is a vivid green blur on my right, with houses, churches, and small stores interspersed as we pass through small villages. We drive by men trimming the bushes with machetes. Teenagers are playing volleyball in the mud. Waves are crashing on the reef off-shore. We pass a procession of about 20 people walking down the road, led by a priest carrying upright in front of him a three-foot high cross – everyone is dressed in white. Two young boys run alongside, racing the bus as it goes by. Multicolored laundry is lying on the rocks in front of the houses to dry. Bananas, cocoa, taro, mango, breadfruit and papayas grow everywhere. Young men going to Apia crowd into the back of an old blue pickup truck; others hang out in front of the tiny village stores. Young girls walk down the road holding hands. Old women pull weeds from between the small rocks in front of their houses. There are ever-present flowers of pink, red, yellow, orange, and white. Dogs, chickens, and sometimes pigs, scurry to get out of the way of the bus. Women are washing cooking pots at the water tap in the front yard. A boy on a bike wobbles carrying coconut frond baskets filled with garden produce on each side of the handle bars. Children are helping to clean up the yard picking up the large leaves and placing them in similar baskets. I smell the smoke from the cooking fires. There are people everywhere. Families are gathering at the end of the day.

As we go by Falefa falls, leaving the villages, and beginning to climb up to the pass, mud hens dart across the road every now and then. Wispy clouds brush the mountaintops. Three-foot high stacks of coconuts sit by the side of the road to be picked up by the buyer. Cattle graze in the valley below between the coconut palms. We pass Mafa with its spectacular view all the way to the ocean, more waterfalls, and roadside stands selling produce. Now we’re back to the villages on the south side of the island. There is a mother sitting on her front door step nursing her baby. Fala is drying in front yards to weave into mats. Naked little boys are running across the grass. A woman stands in front of her house with her long black hair shiny-wet from the shower with an bright pink and blue ‘ie wrapped around her sarong-style. There is the still, clear water of the mangrove lagoon in Vaovai. Horses are tethered at the side of the road eating grass. We slow down for the bumpy drive into Poutasi. Children are splashing and playing in the sea. The sun is sinking into the ocean in a blaze of red and gold. It’s 6:30 pm. Home sweet home.

On behalf of the village I applied to the United Nations Development Project Global Environment Facility Small Grants Programme (no wonder we just call it UNDP) for funding for a marine environmental project. Last week we heard that the village was awarded a grant in the amount of $20,000 US which is obviously great news! Here are a couple of excerpts from the project proposal which will gives an overview:

The village of Poutasi is located in the Falealili district on the southeast coast of Upolu. Poutasi’s marine environment is one of its most valuable resources. It is not only a beautiful natural feature of the village, but also provides recreational and bathing areas, subsistence food sources, and economic income. However, fish and other marine life, including coral, are decreasing; the banks of the river and spring are being denuded of natural flora, including mangroves, due to poor management and muddy run-off from higher ground; the present drainage pipe under the road between the spring and the ocean was poorly constructed and is contributing to the build-up of silt and debris impeding the normal migration of spawning fish; and, erosion is occurring on the beach.The overall purpose of the project is to rehabilitate and protect and conserve Poutasi’s marine environment. A summary of tasks to accomplish this purpose include:Cleanup, conservation, and improvement of village natural springs, river confluence, and beachfront, including retaining walls to protect natural springs and enhance the utilization of the spring waterProfessional assessment of ways to improve current drainage systemsCoral gardening; restocking of clam population; building fish housesEstablishment of a Marine Protected AreaPlanting coastal and other appropriate vegetation to reduce erosionAwareness training and promotion of the importance of protecting the environmentCreation of potential eco-tourism opportunities for the village related to the marine environment. Accomplishment of these tasks will improve the quality of life for the village and neighboring villages as follows:Increased respect for and awareness of the importance of protecting the fragile marine environmentImproved management of fisheries and coastal areasIncreased marine biodiversity of both flora and faunaProtection of vulnerable marine areas from effects of climate change and natural disastersCreation of tourism/economic opportunitiesImproved food securityImproved and healthier environment for bathing area.

This is a one-year long project to start in April. The village is contributing the equivalent of $16,400 US in funding, materials, and labor as well. We will receive periodic funding as we accomplish various tasks in our work plan. The first phase includes technical assessments from government departments such as the Divisions of Fisheries, Environment and Conservation, and Forestry; cleanup of the river banks, beach and natural springs; and construction of retaining walls at the natural springs. That portion is expected to take about four or five months. The natural springs have created large pools, including a lagoon in the center of the village.I’m excited about the project because it’s something the village needs and will hopefully continue to provide benefits long after I’m gone. It will also be fun to learn more about all of these things and to participate in planting the trees and helping with the coral gardens and other activities. I’ve been working with the government agencies I mentioned above, and with local villagers, and I’ve learned a lot already just to be able to prepare the proposal, but I know it’s just the beginning. The village has its own small island Nu’u Safee, just about a half-mile off shore. It’s uninhabited and undeveloped – a beautiful, pristine piece of paradise. There are fantastic snorkeling and diving opportunities close by. The eco-tourism part of the project envisions sharing the island and the coastal waters with tourists in a way that makes sure the natural environment is protected.I’ve been in the village now for six months and it’s been a learning process in many ways. There are still many days when I have to find something to occupy my time, and it will always be that way – it’s just the nature of the job – but I’m glad that some of the things that the village wants are coming to fruition.It’s fall here, which basically means only that the days are a little shorter and that the new school year just started. Also, the rainy season (November through April) is ending: it rains an average of about 8.5” per month in the wet season and about 4” per month in the dry season. It also means cyclone season is over, and we didn’t have any. Temperatures average 85º in the dry season and 75º in the wet season. I’m happy and healthy. The adventure continues . . . .

As on most Pacific Islands, there are very few native animals in Samoa. Because they were isolated and without human inhabitants until very recently historically, all life that evolved here came in one of three ways: wing, water, and wind. So birds are the most common and diverse animals. Sadly, many native birds on the Pacific islands have become extinct. Western ships brought with them mosquitoes (with avian malaria), and other animals, that have devastated the bird populations. Nonetheless, there are a lot of birds here, native and non-native. I especially enjoy watching the water birds, swooping low over the ocean, looking for a meal.

There and mice and rats, nearly ubiquitous throughout the world. There are still a few islands in the Pacific without them. They came with the first ships and have been one of the main threats to birds. I haven’t seen any in our house in Poutasi, but I see them occasionally in other houses, and even in the Peace Corps office. Most people have outdoor cats to control the mice and rats. There aren’t any other small animals – no squirrels, chipmunks, possums, rabbits, skunks, foxes, etc. No snakes either.

There are newts and geckos which are small, only a few inches long. The geckos come and go inside the houses and are appreciated since they eat the mosquitoes and other insects. They’re actually pretty darn cute walking up the wall on their sticky little feet. Speaking of other insects, there are flies, of course, and spiders, some quite large. The largest spider I’ve seen was about five inches across from leg tip to leg tip (do spiders have feet?). There are also lots of millipedes, an inch or so long with lots of tiny legs. They won’t hurt you, but they come out at night and it’s kind of gross to squish one with your bare foot in the dark when you’re on your way to visit the facilities. There are large centipedes which are five or six inches long and have a nasty bite that swells up. Fortunately, I’ve never been bitten, but a lot of Peace Corps volunteers have. There are some pretty good sized cockroaches (maybe two inches long), but they are easily controlled with some insect spray, especially in a western-style house like I live in. And there are small ants always and everywhere.

The only native mammal is the fruit bat. The Polynesians, who came here in canoes 3,000 years ago, brought with them chickens, dogs, and pigs. Chickens roam freely, but they go home to roost at night in the trees at the family compound. Families feed them rice or shredded coconut – not much, just enough so they know where home is. The chickens are very pretty. The roosters are usually multi-colored with iridescent blue-green and brown and gold feathers. I saw one chicken in the village that was white with black spots, just like a Dalmatian. The little chicks are delightful to watch as the follow their mother around the yard learning to scratch for food.

Some pigs are fenced in, but others roam, rooting around for food, and like the chickens, know where home is. They’re fed fruit like papayas or green bananas, and leftover vegetable matter (peels, squash rinds, etc.) The pigs that aren’t fenced in are really quite a nuisance and gardens must be fenced to keep the pigs out. There are also wild pigs. Some families have cattle – maybe a small herd or maybe just one (cows aren’t milked). Both pigs and cattle are like currency and the number of pigs and cattle that you have are a sign of wealth. Fines are levied in the village for breaking village rules and payment is often a pig to the chiefs. At ceremonial occasions, such as weddings, funerals, or any special event, roast pigs are brought to present to the honored guests. The larger the pig, the larger the honor bestowed. And if a cow is butchered and given to the honored guests, it is deemed to be a special tribute.

Horses are used to get to and from the farmlands just outside the village, and to carry produce, or otherwise as beasts of burden. They are ridden with many strands of grasses about four feet long bunched together and laid over their backs with a small blanket on top of the grass. Looks very comfy; they aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. There are a few sheep here, but they are new in the country and are on experimental farms.

The only other animals are the dogs. There are a lot of them and they are mostly pests, not pets. There are occasionally dogs that remind you of a recognized dog breed somewhere in their distant lineage, but most are a standard mutt, usually light brown with occasionally some black or white coloring, short hair, with a slender build, and some are dreadfully skinny. Surplus dogs fend for themselves and roam around in packs. Many Peace Corps volunteers have been bitten by dogs (not me, knock on wood). Although I’ve had a moment or two of worry while I stood my ground and shouted, while pretending to pick up a rock and throw it at them. There weren’t any rocks nearby, or I would have actually done it. Nearly every family has three or four watch dogs who are profoundly territorial. At night there are a lot of dog fights. Almost every dog has some remnant of an injury – a lame leg, a torn ear. The female dogs are always pregnant or nursing. I don’t know what they do with the surplus puppies, and I don’t want to know. With few exceptions, dogs aren’t neutered and are abused. They are routinely kicked if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are never petted. One of our dogs died last week, apparently of poisoning. Not intentional probably. He likely got into some insecticide or something. It was awful to see him suffer for hours and then die. Of course in the states, he would have been rushed to the vet, but there was no vehicle that day to take him to Apia, and they wouldn’t have anyway. So it was just, “He’s dying.” And so he did.

There’s a new puppy now, cute as a button, and about the size of a fat cat. I already hear him yelping occasionally from the lesson of the swift kick when he wants to come into the house. It’s hard to get accustomed to that. I told the family here that my dog in America stays in the house and sleeps on my bed, and they literally just looked at me and didn’t say a thing. I think it was simply incomprehensible.

MANUIA LE KIRISIMASI MA LE TAUSAGA FOU!(Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!)

So what is life like in the village? Background info . . . . Apia is the only town/city in Samoa. It has about 35,000 people and the rest of the population of the country of 180,000 people live in small villages, mostly along the coastlines. My village of Poutasi has a population of 325±. On the map I’ve made of the village there are 50 family compounds some of which house one nuclear family and others an extended family. It is a lovely village – pleasing to the eye. About half of the homes, including mine, are located on the ocean and the other half up the mountain a little ways. Some of the houses are very Western in style, others are the traditional open thatched-roof fales, and most are something in between.

Some of the men and women work outside of the village during the day – in offices or shops in Apia or as school teachers, etc. Most of the women stay at home and care for the family and many men also work on their family farms or fish instead of working elsewhere. Less than half of the families have vehicles. Most people ride the bus.

A general answer to the question would be “quiet.” The only sounds normally are the muffled roar of the surf on the fringing reef, which quickly becomes white noise, roosters crowing, dogs barking, birds singing, and usually music playing somewhere. On a daily basis people go about their normal activities. For the women this would be sewing, cleaning, cooking, weaving, child care, etc. Actually cooking takes up a great deal of time. Most people, including the family that I live with, still cook on open fires or in underground ovens with hot rocks in back of the main house (we have a one-burner propane cook top inside too). The men will go fishing or to their farm, which is up the mountain a little ways. That’s usually early in the morning or when it begins to cool off late in day. In the afternoon the women will often gather in the women’s committee house (an open fale) to talk, weave, play cards, or sleep.

Church and bingo are the two big activities of the week in the village. There are two churches in the village – Catholic and Congregational (the church of the missionaries which is descended from the Puritans, if I remember correctly). There are two church services on Sunday, not including Sunday School and the Youth Group meeting after church Sunday evening. There are usually one or two other church activities during the week too, such as choir practice or the women’s fellowship. Bingo is in the church hall and is a fund raiser for the church – very well-attended!

My life in the village will always be mostly unstructured, but is probably a little more so right now because I’m still settling in and not working very aggressively on any projects yet. But this is my “routine” at this point. I wake up about 6:30 and go for a walk on the road along the ocean in the cool of the day. Then I make breakfast etc. and figure out what I’m going to do for the day. If it’s Sunday I go to church. I usually go to the Congregational Church since it reminds me of the church where I went when I was young. My Samoan family also goes there. But every now and then I go to the Catholic service to make sure I continue to get acquainted with everyone in the village. It’s really important for us to go to church since it’s such an important part of village life. On Sunday there is nothing else to do since it’s a day of rest. We come home, eat a big meal and sleep and relax until the afternoon service. In addition to not working, on Sunday there is no swimming allowed and the young people don’t play rugby or volleyball like the usually do in the afternoons.

For these first few months in the village our primary “job” is to get to know the village and the people. So what I do each day varies from visiting the primary and secondary schools, going to village meetings of the chiefs or the women’s committee, to just studying the language. Sometimes I go and visit with the women in the committee house in the afternoon. And some days I just stay at home and read or write. I usually write some each day. Lately I’ve also been reading some sample proposals from other Peace Corps projects and making phone calls to set up appointments to get information about some of the proposed projects for the village. Nearly every afternoon I sit in the open fale next to the ocean and read or write, watch the fishermen or the children playing in the sea, and watch the sunset (always spectacular!). In the evening I read, watch dvd’s, play computer games, listen to Radio Australia (like NPR), etc. The family I live with has a TV, but there’s not much to watch.

After the holidays I’ll be starting to work in earnest on funding for the Learning Centre and an environmental project along the river bank and sea shore as well as some community gardens. It’s a process.

The last couple of evenings in the village I've been hearing the Samoan version of fireworks to celebrate Christmas. The “fireworks” are muffled booms – well, not so muffled if you’re up close. From my house, maybe the length of a football field away, it sounds like the noise made when fireworks are launched at a fireworks show. I went to see what was going on and saw three boys, about ten years old, having fun with fire. Here’s how they do it. Envision a stalk of dried bamboo about four to five feet long and four to six inches in diameter. Make a one-inch diameter hole in the end section, then pour in a small amount of kerosene. Fresh air is blown into the hole to activate the fumes. Then they light the gas from the top of the hole with a small flaming stick kept in the coconut husk fire nearby. Poof! Bang! And a flame shoots up a couple of feet in the air. Again, and again, with a small explosion about every five seconds. It takes some practice to make the loudest bang. It's called a "bamboo cannon" and ironically the children use it as an alternative to commerical, dangerous, fireworks which are illegal in Samoa.

This afternoon I’ve been watching several young men from the village fishing in the sea in front of my fale. The water inside the reef is so shallow that you can walk all the way to the reef (about ½ mile) in water only about waist deep. It’s crystal clear – like a huge swimming pool with no deep end. There are seven of them in their 20’s, bare to the waist with their traditional lavalavas tied a little shorter than usual to give them more agility in the water. Two men are holding the net – imagine a rectangle about 20 feet long and six feet wide. One is paddling in a traditional dugout outrigger canoe which is painted a bright turquoise – a brilliant contrast and compliment to the aquamarine sea. They walk along in the water looking for fish. Two of them have spears and some carry sticks. When they spot fish, they point in that direction and the men with the net begin to ease up toward them. When they are in position, the others run toward the net, beating the water with their hands and the sticks, shouting, chasing the fish toward the net. Occasionally one of the men leaps out of the water and dives forward, face down into the water, arms outstretched, scaring the fish toward the net. Then they all charge to the net trying to spear the fish or hit them with the sticks to stun them to be able to get them out of the water and into the canoe. In between, as they walk along, they sometimes push each other into the water, or throw their sticks into the air and try to catch them on the way down, just like young men everywhere. Two young boys about 10 or 12 years old float on pieces of salvaged wood a little distance away – watching, learning, When they finish fishing for the day they will divide the catch amongst themselves, and maybe share with other families depending upon the success of the day.

This morning I also watched a mother and her children walking in the water inside the reef looking for sea cucumbers, clams, or other shell fish. When they spotted something they would go under the water to gather it up. The boy, about 7 or 8 years old, alternately pulled along, and floated on, a white plastic bucket in which they placed their catch. When I saw them go out, I thought it would be interesting and maybe fun to go with them some time, but they were out there for about two hours in the water and the direct overhead sun beating down. It is after all, dinner, not amusement.

In Samoa (and in the rest of the South Pacific) Hawaii is not considered part of the United States. Of course they know that it is politically, but in ordinary conversation they are mutually exclusive. So I say that I’m from Hawaii and not from America (Amelika is the word for USA). It makes sense when one thinks about it. Hawaii was part of their culture and civilization long before it was part of our country. Hawaii’s culture is still very different from most of the U S of course. I think that one of the reasons that people enjoy vacationing there so much is that it’s “exotic” and feels like a foreign country in many ways, but has the benefit of being part of the U S.

All of the islands of Samoa put together (1,133 square miles) are about one-fourth of the size of the Big Island of Hawaii. The island that I live on here, Upolu, is roughly 50 miles long and 15 miles wide (about the same shape as the island of Molokai, which is about 30 miles long and about 6 miles wide).

The other major island, Savai’i, is also called the Big Island (I haven’t been there yet, but I’ll definitely go there). Samoans are convinced that Hawai’i is named for Savai’i, but historically everything I’ve read contradicts that. The Hawaiians came from the Marquesas between 300 and 1,000 CE with some later migrations from Tahiti. Samoa was settled about 3,000 years ago as part of the Polynesian migrations that began in Asia and continued throughout the Pacific. Polynesia is the term used for Pacific Islanders with similar ethnic and linguistic characteristics and close affinities to Malay people.

Samoa and Hawai’i are much alike in food, language, plants, and even the physical characteristics and society of the people. Someone in Hawai’i told me before I left to come here, that Samoa was like Hawai’i in the 1920’s or 30’s. That’s probably pretty close. Except for some of the modern conveniences like the internet, cell phones, and television.

Those same modern culture influences are some of the things challenging the country of Samoa today. The culture is still very religious, conservative, and modest. It’s difficult, especially for parents and teachers, when the children are exposed to American TV and movies, and god-knows-what on the internet. It’s not unlike some of the complaints that Islamic people have about Western countries. Religion here is kind of like that of Islamic nations. Not the theology of course, but the pervasiveness of it. It is not something that people do. It is who they are. It isn’t a place they go on Sundays, but an integral part of life everyday. Every public event includes a prayer to Atua (God). Nearly every article in the newspaper references Atua, even on the sport‘s pages. Everyday conversation and every meeting of any kind includes Atua. To eat a meal anywhere without saying “grace” is unthinkable. The country’s motto is “Samoa is founded on God.” And it clearly is. The missionaries who came in 1830 would be very pleased to know how successful they were.

I went to a matai council meeting in the village this week. The social structure of Samoa is based on the matai system which has been the way of life here for centuries. The matai system is intertwined with the basic unit of Samoan society, the ‘aiga, or family. The family in Samoa is a very comprehensive term, including the nuclear family; members of the (very) extended family, and their spouses and children; and persons “adopted” into the family. The matai heads the ‘aiga.

Families form the village community. A village is largely a self-governing unit controlled by the village council composed of the matai. There is also a village mayor but his role is primarily as a liaison to the national government. The matai council makes all the decisions and set the rules for the village. For example, some of the rules in my village include no beer drinking in the village, no facial hair for men, and use of only traditional fishing methods.

Matai are divided into orators (talking chiefs) and chiefs. It is the duty of the orators to understand local history and tradition and to be able to use a special variation of the Samoan language only used on formal occasions. Maybe some other time I’ll write more about the history and traditions.

The chiefs are given positions of respect and participate along with the orators in decision making and village politics. Depending upon their status, they may sway the decisions made by the village council in one direction or another. Each village usually has one or two “high chiefs” whose rank exceeds that of the other matai.

Apart from obligations to the village, the most important duty of every matai is to look after the family (which may be dozens of people). The matai controls the family land and allocates its use. Family members serve the matai by cooking food and cultivating crops. In turn, they receive food, lodging, and money as needed. Family members living away from the matai (even in other countries) may be called upon to make contributions of food or money for church or family functions.

Although the matai system may resemble a feudal baron who gave serfs protection in return for the services, the system differs in one important respect. Family members have a strong say in who becomes the matai. Usually direct heirs are the first to be considered, but they are not always successful. Samoan’s have a saying, “O le ala i le pule o le tautua.” – “Service is the way to power.” Frequently one who has served the matai faithfully succeeds him. Discussions regarding matai titles are made on a consensual basis and sometimes difficult to reach. Occasionally a woman may be made a matai, but usually they are men.

Not all matai live up to the standards set by the system. Members of the family can express dissatisfaction and seek removal of the title, but this is rare. Like positions of leadership worldwide, some are active leaders, some are active followers, and some are along just for the ride.

So here’s what a matai council meeting looks like. The matai are seated cross-legged) on the floor of an open fale, a large one, maybe 40 or 50 feel long, which is the one designated for village council meetings. An “open fale” is a raised (two or three feet high) concrete foundation with posts from floor to ceiling averaging about ten inches in diameter and spaced about four feet apart. The sloping roof is galvanized metal nowadays, often painted a rusty red color, but was coconut frond thatch in the past. There is an overhang of a few feet all around.

The early birds get a post, but there are also designated seating arrangements. The high chief(s) sit at the end, and the highest orators are seated on one of the long sides. The rest of the matai are seated along the other side.

At the beginning of each meeting there is an ava ceremony. Some of you have heard of ava, or kava, as it’s called some places in the Pacific. Samoan ava is notoriously weak, so if you’ve experienced it elsewhere, it may have had more of a “punch” than Samoan ava. Ava is a drink made from the dried and pulverized root of a plant (piper methysticum). I hadn’t tasted it before I came to Samoa, although I had seen it in Hawaii. It tastes and looks kind of like dishwater. Not that I’ve made a practice of drinking dishwater, but I think have a general idea of what that tastes like! There is a specialized ritual which can be longer or shorter depending upon the occasion. For a matai meeting, there are three untitled young men (usually in their 20’s or 30’s) who sit on a fala mat, with one of the matai. They sit a few feet in front of the long row of matai whose backs are to the posts. The ava is in a wooden bowl that stands on little carved legs all around the edges of the bowl. One of the young men sits behind the bowl. Another serves the ava in half of a coconut shell. The third young man calls out the ceremonial ritual, directing the service of the ava in the appropriate order according to rank. I am served after the high chief (whom I also sit beside at the end of the fale).

When given the cup of ava, the proper procedure is to pour out a drop or two on the mat beside you while saying, “Lau ava lea le Atua.” – “God, here is your ava.” Then you say, “Soifua!” or “Manuia!” – which basically means “Good health to you!” Then you drink it and give the cup back to the server. You take only one drink. If you don’t finish it all in one drink, you toss the remainder in the cup out of the fale over your shoulder.

So besides the taste, what is ava like? I have only had these small sips (at five ceremonies since I’ve been here), but I’m told that if you drink a lot of it your tongue and lips will get sort of numb (it is part of the pepper family) and that it is a general relaxant. It’s not intoxicating like alcohol.

After the ava ceremony the chief orator begins the meeting with the appropriate honorifics and traditional language, always including thanks to God. And then they commence with the business of the day. Decisions are made by consensus and every opinion is heard and discussed. A simple majority is not used to make a decision. Whoever wishes to speak on a subject may do so (often at great length) and without interruption.

Tomorrow I will have been in Poutasi for seven weeks. As I knew it would, life here gets easier every day. Although I still miss the privacy of having my own house, my host family is very kind and I like them. I’m gradually learning the names of people in the village and actually starting to remember some of them when I see them.

I’m still challenged with understanding the spoken language much of the time, but that will come with practice. People in the village tell me all the time how well I speak Samoan.

For those of you familiar with the Hawaiian language, you know how subtle the nuances are, especially in Polynesian languages where the words are mostly vowels. For example:

ia (ē’-ah) means “he, she or it,” “these” or adds an emphasis which means “this one and no other” (Ia a’u? Ia oe! = Do you mean me? Yes, you!) Spoken with a rising tone and a glottal stop at the end, it means “very well then” or “all right then.”

‘ia (note the inverted comma which indicates a glottal stop making the i (ē) a short sound) means “in order to” or “yes.”

‘iā (note the macron indicating the vowel sound is held longer) can mean “in, at, on, for” depending on the context. ‘Iā is also the command given at the start of a race like, “Ready, set, go!”

and i’a means “fish.”

It's hugely contextual as you can tell!

My job for the first few months here is to get to know the village. I’m creating a village map and writing a report called the Village Situational Analysis which will compile info about the village such as population statistics (I’ll be doing a house-to-house survey), environmental overview, economic and agricultural assessment, health and school issues, community resources, etc. Although I have already been told about some of the projects that they would like me to do, this analysis will help to focus on possible projects and activities and the resources necessary to accomplish them.

So I’m not busy all day long. Actually, if I accomplish one Peace Corps related project each day I’m satisfied at this point. It may be attending a village meeting or church service or just studying the language. I’m sometimes torn between wanting to get started and charge ahead with some of the projects, and yet knowing that it’s best to understand the village, the personalities, the resources, etc. before I can expect to be successful. It’s important that it not be “my project,” but the village’s project.

So I’m doing a lot of reading, which I never get tired of, and writing. I started working on a garden this week. I’m learning to have more patience, which has never been one of my strengths.

September 4, 2007

It turns out that I will be living with a family in Poutasi across the road from the fale by the sea where I was originally supposed to live; the small fale will be available for me to work in, relax and read, and have meetings, etc. That will probably rescue me in the moments that I am discouraged. I have been over there nearly every day. The sea is soothing and calming in the way that it has been for millennia. The family that I am living with is very warm and welcoming.

With all of the anxiety I’ve been feeling about moving to a new village and meeting all the new people there – which is dissipating somewhat already – it’s good to remember how fortunate it is that I’m in such a beautiful place! I could be in a cold, dreary place or one that is hot and dusty and drab. This is exactly where I wanted to be. I am writing this on my laptop and will save it to my flashdrive to take to town to post on my blog. At this moment I’m sitting in the fale by the sea listening to the birds twittering in the nonu bushes, kingfishers, I think, and to the constant chattering of the coconut palm fronds as they rise and fall in the breeze. I hear the steady roar of the surf as it crashes over and over the fringing reef of the island, maybe a half mile away (I’m not good at judging distances, especially over water.). The small waves reaching the shore about 20 feet in front of me lap a continuous beat of their own. The pounding surf sounds like a waterfall upstream, ebbing and flowing slightly, but never stopping, with the small waves like a babbling brook beside me. The sound of the surf is faint enough that one can easily not hear it because you quickly become accustomed to the “white noise.” But it is always there, loud enough to be clearly heard, even from my room in the house when I stop and listen.

The ocean just about 20 feet in front of me is varying shades of blue and aqua. The Samoan word for the color blue is lanumoana, which literally means the color of the deep ocean. It is clean and clear and only about waist deep in most places all the way out to the reef. A couple of mornings I have gone for a short swim after my morning walk.

I’m looking between the palms in front of the fale at Nuu Safee Island. The island is owned by the village. It is a small uninhabited island that one can go to for a day trip by boat (I haven’t yet, but I’m looking forward to it). Sometimes visitors “rent” the island and stay there for a few days. It is the postcard version of a Pacific Island fringed by coconut palms with a wide white coral beach. The sun is slowly setting leaving a shining path on the sea. As it sinks behind the clouds, the forest below on the horizon becomes a silhouette with the tallest palms in stark relief above the tree canopy. Soon the brightness will fade to pinks and oranges as it disappears for the night. Behind me the tops of the mountain ridges are covered with clouds whose edges look like puffs of cotton. I suspect it’s raining at the summit.

There is a cool breeze blowing my troubles away – blowing them out to sea so that I can replace them with loving, calm, serene, and confident thoughts that I am being sent from my family and friends back home. Fa’afetai!

August 17, 2007

It is absolutely amazing to realize that we have nearly completed our training, and be sworn in as official Peace Corps volunteers on Wednesday. It has been tough, but has gone by so quickly. We are in for a big change that will be perhaps more challenging than what we’ve experienced thus far. Going to our new villages on August 23rd and adapting to a new lifestyle - no more structured training calendars, meeting a whole village of new people, and starting the "job" part of our Peace Corps experience will be difficult in many ways. Nonetheless, we have gotten this far and have been given tools to use. That’s what the sometimes grueling training has been for.

Last Sunday morning the congregation of the church in our training village began to say goodbye to us. I read in Samoan, a prayer of thanks. Compared to the few words I was able to say on that very first Sunday here, even I am impressed with my abilities. (I passed our final language test at the advanced level last week - I was pleasantly surprised.) Like on our first Sunday, when we we all went to the front of the church to be welcomed, we did that again. Only this time we knew everyone who gave us a hug or a lei. It was a beautiful and moving service and I couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

Of course none of this could have happened without the village of Manunu. (Each new group of volunteers goes to a different village in Samoa for their training village.) We are each going to desperately miss our families here. I have been given an incredible honor. Baby Urima will also be given the name of Donna. I am nearly moved to tears each time I think of it. All the rest of her life she will know that she was named for this palagi (a generic term for white person - not used derisively) who once came to live with the family for a few short weeks.

We have been told by the trainers and current PC volunteers that we are having a very special experience in Manunu. Never before has a Peace Corps training group been so warmly welcomed into the whole community and made a real part of the village. We have been part of the lotu (church services), had sivas (dances) thrown just for us, and I think our goodbye fiafia (village celebration with traditional dance, etc.) next week will be a hard act to follow. It is a physically beautiful village nestled in the mountains. The traditional village structure with the homes in a circular pattern and the malae in the middle (grassy "village square" where the young people play rugby and soccer and village gatherings are held) make not only a picturesque setting, but an remarkable social network of families, Samoan style. They have literally and figuratively surrounded us with their love and kindness.

The village itself has also told us how much we will missed and that we have made a difference by being here. This week, one of the chiefs told us that for some of the people in Manunu this has been one of the happiest times of their lives. Amazing!

August 18, 2007

First came the women of the village walking across the malae singing in their matching blue puletasi (dresses) with red flowers. Some had flowers in their hair, others had fragrant leis around their necks. Their beautiful voices blended together in harmony and wafted across to us on the cool early morning breeze. The elder men of the village laid the fala papa (woven mats) on the grass across from us and took their places according to rank. The high orator of the village began to speak with his ceremonial whisk over his shoulder and his talking staff held firmly in his hand. Although at this point I can understand some of the language, one didn't need to know any of the words to understand the honor that was being bestowed upon us. Then came six young men of the village carrying a bamboo platform covered with banana leaves with a huge whole roasted pig cooked that morning in the umu (underground oven). Next other young men of the village brought woven palm leaf baskets with smaller roasted pigs and other food. And then they laid banana leaves on the grass in front of us and four young men came walking toward us with the head and front and hind quarters of a just-butcherd cow slung over their shoulders with blood running down their backs they laid it in front of us. They gave us a cow! In local tradition that is a tremendous honor. And then the women brought out expertly woven fine mats and laid them in front of us.

This small group of sixteen people who have arrived in the country only three months ago to do our best to help where we can have been so blessed to be in the village of Manunu for these past few weeks. Each of us has acquired a new Samoan family and an entire community to call our home whenever we want to return.

We sat cross-legged, Samoan style on our fala mat, awestruck with the gratitude that was begin expressed to us, when it is we who cannot express enough gratitude to the families that took us into their homes, welcomed us with open arms, taught us the Samoan language and the Samoan way of life, and provided us with food, shelter and alofa for seven weeks. To say that none of us, the people of Manunu or the Pisikoa, will ever forget this experience of the past few weeks is an understatement I am sure. The people of Manunu will tell the story over the years about the palangi who lived with them once upon a time with whom they laughed and played and who they took into their hearts. And each of us will have stories to tell our grandchildren about how we once lived in a Samoan village and taught them how to play softball, sang in the church choir, danced the siva, killed a chicken for dinner, climbed a coconut tree, had a beau with whom we sat and talked under the stars, made coconut cream from a fresh coconut, swam in the pool by the waterfall, lived in a little thatched-roof hut, had a chicken lay an egg at the foot of the bed, walked each morning in the dew-laden grass to the open fale for classes each day, or had the honor of a holding a precious baby girl in your arms who was named for you.

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And this is just beginning! Next week we each go to a new village to begin our "real" Peace Corps experience.

I visited Poutasi, my new village, for two days this week. It was just a quick introduction, but it is a lovely place and as we have found everywhere in Samoa, the people are warm and friendly. They need some help with their water system as well as the other projects I mentioned. I will probably help some at the local school too. Maybe some computer tutoring classes or something like that.

We leave to go back to Manunu later today (limited internet and phone access during that time). Only two weeks until we are finished with training and become official volunteers! We are kept so busy in classes all day and have very little free time. It will be a big adjustment to be dropped off in a village I don't know with no structured schedule. My "job" for the first few months is to get to know the village and the people.