tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87211750348378602922024-03-13T19:19:55.140-07:00Following the DayLaselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-32996885321421816092012-01-12T08:48:00.001-08:002012-03-08T10:41:34.658-08:00Home is Where the Heart Is<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PZCeLke1hV0/Tw8PYZrZmvI/AAAAAAAAAMU/wpHUEtKjm_k/s1600/prizegiving.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PZCeLke1hV0/Tw8PYZrZmvI/AAAAAAAAAMU/wpHUEtKjm_k/s320/prizegiving.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696788965531163378" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Me with a handful of my students after the Prizegiving ceremony.</span></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It has been a month and two days since I boarded the plane leaving Samoa and headed home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Every day I have thought to myself, “I should really write that final blog entry,” yet self denial of the finality of my time as a Peace Corps volunteer prevented me from sitting down and concluding this twenty-seven month blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Even today, I find myself at a loss for words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>How does one summarize twenty-seven months of service?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And how do I capture the lessons learned?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The beautiful thing is that this blog has already captured so many of those memories and experiences.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Coming home, I expected more culture shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I thought that I would be overwhelmed by speeding cars, technology, supermarkets, and of course, the mall at Christmastime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But when it came down to it, coming home felt more like waking from one dream to begin a new one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You might say I eased my transition a bit by road tripping through New Zealand for 16 days before coming back to New York, and maybe that is the reason I was not so overwhelmed by American life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had anticipated a fear of driving, yet that has not been the case at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have been driving every day, and even took a few trips into Manhattan already!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have upgraded my Samoan monochrome cellphone to the iPhone (4s) and am LOVING the apps, games, and easy flow of information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I miss being able to throw my rubbish (oops, trash!) out my back door, but I am appreciative of the regular garbage collection, recycling collection, and composting going on here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I cannot stress enough how amazing it has been to come home to a snow-less winter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My tan is still holding true, and I still wear my jandals around the house (so weird to wear shoes inside!) but for the most part, I am embracing boot fashion, jeans, and bubble jackets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have seen Phish twice, Mamma Mia on Broadway, celebrated my birthday in a posh NYC nightclub, eaten pizza, sushi, bagels, and wings, and have visited the Jersey Shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have made cookies in an oven and washed clothes in a washing machine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I have stopped float-testing all eggs before consumption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have also put away all fans and embraced indoor heating.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Job-wise, I am not sure what is next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have picked up two part time jobs from my past: dog walking (yes, dogs are friendly here!), and I will soon start working the front desk at the Rockland Conservatory of Music, now in their new location.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am slowly readjusting to the strange sensation of living in my parents’ full house once again, but I am savoring the moments we all have together and am happy to have arrived home when I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">In a way, I now feel that I have two homes: Skyview, and Samalaeulu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I find myself missing my village and Samoan life to the point where it literally hurts my heart, yet tears do not come to me when I think of leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Instead, I feel gratitude for the two years I was fortunate enough to spend living in such a loving village in the South Pacific.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The friends I made there and students I taught feel like a family, and thanks to technology, I have been able to stay in touch with many of them; one students, unaware of the time difference, has been calling the house at 3am in the morning!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I do not know when I will return to Samoa, yet I do know that when I do, it will not be the same as my two years spent as a Pisikoa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, the experiences shared there will forever remain in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am a proud Returned Peace Corps Volunteer!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Today, the 960 photos I selected out of thousands should arrive and I will be able to relive my 27 months as a volunteer as I create my largest scrapbook to date.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">This concludes my blog…. until the next adventure <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Wingdings;">:) </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-21514547965852876852012-01-12T08:43:00.000-08:002012-01-12T08:48:22.471-08:00Kicking the Cat<div><br /></div><div>... It seems I forgot to post this back in November, so enjoy!</div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SQvajWToYEM/Tw8ObBF8XhI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rG3OvjhT1m4/s1600/pulega.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SQvajWToYEM/Tw8ObBF8XhI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rG3OvjhT1m4/s320/pulega.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696787910959586834" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pulega and I at Culture Day in Sasina.</span></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">With the end of service so near, many families have been inviting me over for dinner as a final farewell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It has been a great way to spend some quality time with those families that have become such an important part of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Last week, I ate with two families, this week I have plans with another three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My first dinner last week was with Pulega’s family, and it was as comical as ever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Pulega has a large presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is very fat and a flamboyant fafafine who lives with his sisters family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is also Ali’s principal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ali and I often joke about the two sides of Pulega.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She knows him as a firm and demanding teacher, who always wears a pristine floral shirt and ie’konga (black wrap around skirt - - - business-wear for Samoan men.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For me however, I know him only as a friend in the village – a laughing, joking, shirtless man, who has a cat and two dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Which brings us to the brief yet somewhat horrible (and hilarious!) story of the cat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I showed up for diner just before sa, or evening prayer, was to begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sun was setting and short bursts of heavy rain were blowing through the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I sat with Pulega in the large open fale that makes up his home, while behind the house, Pulega’s sister and children busied themselves preparing our feast in the fale kuka (cooking house.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The rain was really picking up, so I helped Pulega to lower the tarps, creating instant makesift walls surrounding the fale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sound of the rain beating down was immense, and for half a moment I worried that the river might come, thus cutting me off from my home on the other side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I quickly brushed the worry aside, knowing full well I would have a place to stay if that was to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Pulega’s cat, which he affectively calls Pusi (meaning cat), crept under the tarp to avoid the rain with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was clear that she knew meal time was approaching and lurked closely around Pulega’s chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He spoke to it, pet it, and showed affection towards it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And then the meal came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Pulega transformed from a loving pet owner into a ravenous territorial man almost instantaneously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The formerly loved cat looked up with begging eyes for a scrap or two and “Whack!” Pulega kicked him in the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was so startled I almost couldn’t eat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then, with bravery and perhaps a bit of stupidity, the cat continued to beg with a similar outcome every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Finally Pulega had had enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He called over a child, who picked up the cat, and through it out of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The routine continued for the whole meal, and although it sounds terrible in writing, the kicking and throwing never seemed over the top animal abuse – more just comical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When Pulega wasn’t looking, I slipped the cat some chicken bones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">At the end of the meal, I was walked home by Pea (Pulegas sister) and her two children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Senara, the eldest child, held a beach umbrella sized umbrella for the three of us to walk under.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Jason, to the horror of his mother bounced a ball, and she kept hissing at him “Aua! Sa!” apparently afraid of attracting the attention of ghosts with his noise at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walked in the middle of the three of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Pea held my hand, as we walked home, and although it felt unnatural to be walking holding this motherly womans’ hand, I just went with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is common in Samoa to see two grown men walking down the street holding hands, or two girls holding hands while walking to church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As awkward as it felt, there was something really touching about the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will miss Pulega, Pea, Senara, and Jason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hope our paths will cross again one day, as they have so generously included me in their family for the past two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tofa soifu lo’u aiga!</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-66471592731095215552011-11-08T15:39:00.001-08:002011-11-08T15:44:02.982-08:00Tattoo, Take Two!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRGZxEa_pHU/Trm-geY-LHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/zmOB10T94sg/s1600/tattoo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRGZxEa_pHU/Trm-geY-LHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/zmOB10T94sg/s320/tattoo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672774670772743282" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2upXAxJQO5U/Trm-gWRWQ-I/AAAAAAAAALw/fJgA3cdn0vY/s1600/tattoo1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2upXAxJQO5U/Trm-gWRWQ-I/AAAAAAAAALw/fJgA3cdn0vY/s320/tattoo1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672774668593284066" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> My first tattoo was made by the Suluape Family in Apia back in February of this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tattoos are a Samoan tradition and great meanings are held in the design and placement of every symbol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Traditional Samoan tattoos have been such a part of Samoan heritage and culture that they have been around for hundreds of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As a result, the Samoans have a very different method of tattooing than we are accustomed to in the West.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Naturally, in the spirit of Samoan culture, I wanted my tattoo to be done in the traditional style using the traditional tools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, this was not possible for my first one, as its designs were too curvy and detailed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Once again, Anna provided the necessary means to get things done that I have been putting off.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Inspired by her travels, Anna decided that she wanted to get a tattoo before leaving as a constant reminder of her time abroad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Finding herself in Samoa for her last country, it seemed a fitting time and place to do it, especially with the cultural significance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Early in the week I encouraged her to really think about what she would want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Over her week here, she saw many tattoos, and she soon decided on what she would get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The traditional womans tattoo, called the Malu, is located on the thigh area and extends down past the knee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One of the symbols used is a star, signifying “Navigation.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After two months of travel, what better symbol could she have decided on?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">We went to the tattoo parlor together on a rainy Saturday, and as often happens when one is sitting in a tattoo shop, I got inspired to stop the tautalatala (too much talk), and finally get my foot tattoo that I had been dreaming of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Since my first tattoo had been done with the gun, this time I opted for the traditional “tap-tap” method.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Unfortunately, my design could not be done all with the tap-tap because the flower in the middle was too curvy, so my tattoo was done in two stages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Part one was the flower, made by the gun, and the rest of the designs were done with the pillow, stick, razor, and tapping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All in all, I was surprised to say that the tap-tap did not hurt nearly as much as the gun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Maybe it was the style of the design or the placement, but I found the tapping almost soothing, and the pain totally bearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Although I cannot predict the future, I think I am done with tattoos for the time being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have two great designs to last me a lifetime, and to top it off, they were done in a country I now consider a second home by people I now consider friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hope that my tattoos will serve as a daily reminder of the people I met, the experiences I had, and the lessons I learned, while serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Western Samoa.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-28732584471767676942011-11-08T15:36:00.000-08:002011-11-08T15:39:15.299-08:00Halloween in Apia<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ryug18n3498/Trm9U3mvu1I/AAAAAAAAALk/bhZbk0SzroM/s1600/apia%2Bhalloween.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ryug18n3498/Trm9U3mvu1I/AAAAAAAAALk/bhZbk0SzroM/s320/apia%2Bhalloween.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672773371871345490" /></a><br />Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I love creating characters and for one night pretending to be someone or something that I am not. Usually I envision lavish costume ideas that never come to fruition. However, this year, my idea was too good to sit on, and months away from Halloween, I began the preparations. After attending the Magic Circus of Samoa back in February and witnessing the impressive 4-legged man act, there was no question as to what I would be: the 4-legged lady soon materialized in my head, along with all the ways to make it happen.<br />In true magician form I cannot reveal how I was about to grow two extra legs for the big event, but on the night of the Halloween celebrations, I had transformed from a Peace Corps Volunteer into a fat, four-legged Samoan lady. The costume along with some rehearsed dance moves won me a slot as one of the best costumes of the evening.<br />The count down has begun for next years Halloween, but if my magical abilities hold true, who knows what will happen next?!Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-53754673108464501202011-11-08T15:32:00.000-08:002011-11-08T15:36:27.531-08:00Halloween in the Village<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ek0P2qR7kEo/Trm8vnCyBdI/AAAAAAAAALY/U9TJMzH1K6Y/s1600/school%2Bhalloween.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ek0P2qR7kEo/Trm8vnCyBdI/AAAAAAAAALY/U9TJMzH1K6Y/s320/school%2Bhalloween.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672772731770373586" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">This year I was lucky enough to celebrate two Halloweens, one in the village and one in Apia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Apia story will be told shortly, but this blog will focus on the one in the village.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">A week before Halloween, Anna arrived for her week-long visit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was so exciting to see her and to catch up, as she had been traveling through South East Asia and had many fascinating stories to tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Since she had been on the move so much, we decided that it would be a nice change to just stay put and let her experience the daily life of a Peace Corps volunteer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So after a night in Apia, we made our way back to the village and the fun began!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">In anticipation of Anna’s visit, I had planned a fun filled week of Halloween activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Unfortunately, I had not counted on the teachers springing surprise exams on the students, so my first two days of activities were removed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, with Anna’s help, we kicked things into gear on Wednesday with a mask-making day in the lower levels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When Thursday came around, we did pumpkin carving with the upper levels, and had the students in Year 6 paint faces onto eggplants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Friday was the final celebration, filled with candy (Thanks Ilovea!), trick-or-treating, and a costume contest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Overall, it was a great success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Anna’s trip deserves it’s own blog and I hope to find the time to get that up before leaving because it was a real treat to have her here, and we did so much!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-48629670318705305642011-11-08T15:28:00.000-08:002011-11-08T15:32:34.044-08:00Craving [CAVING!] for Pizza!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YSO5z7pJfEM/Trm709scYlI/AAAAAAAAALM/fMgy2o5Fz94/s1600/caving.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YSO5z7pJfEM/Trm709scYlI/AAAAAAAAALM/fMgy2o5Fz94/s320/caving.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672771724238414418" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">One great thing about having a visitor is that it gives you the excuse to do everything you always wanted to do but never justified finding time for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Anna had told me all about her adventures riding elephants and paddling through floating villages, so I felt the pressure to impress her with Samoa’s natural wonders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Flipping through the tourist pamphlets I have acquired over the past few years, one activity sprung out at me: Dwarfs Cave.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The history of Dwarfs Cave is a bit unclear, and it seems that every person who goes there will be told a slightly different tale as to its past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>From what we gathered, Dwarfs Cave is really an expansive lava-tube, formed during the 1904-1911 eruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The legend states that since it is so long, no person has ever been to the end of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At one time or other, it is believed that 30 “Eskimos,” lived in this underground layer, feasting at the impressive flat table located just a few minutes inside the cave and bathing in its natural, muddy pools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Although a believable story from the size of the cave, there seems to be no evidence of humans ever having lived in the space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">On a Tuesday afternoon, Anna and I, along with two of my top students Pisi and Sapi, met up with two of the other Peace Corps Ali and Jenny, to check out the cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Our “tour guide” (some man from the village), dubbed himself the cave man, and led the way through the cave, making sure we got as dirty as possible along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The caves have no light, neither natural or brought in, so it was up to us to carry flashlights to guide us on our journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This proved a bit challenging as the path led us up and down step inclines of muddy rock and through pools waist deep of silt and mud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However we endured and made it to the farthest pool before turning back for the adventure out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Having just finished reading The Hobbit (in anticipation of the movie release!), I found myself looking around for Gollum, as this cave could easily have been his home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I hope Peter Jackson was able to make the trip out here before filming those scenes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was not much life down in the caves, other than a few bats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Probably the scariest part of the adventure was shining the flashlight onto the walls of the cave and noticing the large cracks, assumedly formed from recent earthquake activity. I am glad to say we made it out alive, a little bruised and beaten, but overall successful in our exploration.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">To celebrate, Anna and I took the girls out for pizza at the local pizzerias (Sekia Pizza).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a great field trip and I am so glad that we found the time to tackle this cool site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For anyone planning a trip to Samoa, Dwarfs Caves are a must!</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-45202107446871498302011-11-08T15:25:00.000-08:002011-11-08T15:28:25.948-08:00Lord of the Rings<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0nfN8_Ec8Yk/Trm67mucXVI/AAAAAAAAALA/RHNSjgt8WtQ/s1600/weaver.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 288px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0nfN8_Ec8Yk/Trm67mucXVI/AAAAAAAAALA/RHNSjgt8WtQ/s320/weaver.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672770738820242770" /></a><br />Over the past month of school, I have become a champion crafter. Due to lack of activity in the classrooms following the Year 8 National exam, I found myself spending my days in a corner of the Year 8 classroom learning how to weave with the rest of the Year 8 girls. At first it was tricky. My fingers did not want to cooperate with the fine strands of the la’au fala leaves and instead of making mat shapes, I was making long belt-like creations. Then one day, one of my girls made me a ring, and the course of my days were hanged forever. Stubbornly, I did not want to ask for help, so I sat at my desk trying to figure out just how she had done it. After a day of failed attempts, I gave in to my desire to know and asked for assistance. After a 5 minute lesson, I was weaving rings! I started simple, with one color, but soon needed to expand my artistic abilities to incorporate multi-colors into the jewelry. Three days later I have created a small store worth of jewelry. Rings of every shape, size, and color hang from a string in my room, and my arms are adorned with bracelets. I even found the time to create a few headbands, necklaces, and belts. With the jewelry mastered and just a few weeks left in the village, the time has come to embark on my last great weaving challenge: the mat. Only time will tell if I can pull it off in time!Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-15811928836553689012011-10-04T17:21:00.001-07:002011-10-04T17:26:13.544-07:00Parade of Nations<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zoaq0NF_uVc/Touj0spCP0I/AAAAAAAAAKg/FI1XwkX6glc/s1600/students%2Bwith%2Bflags.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zoaq0NF_uVc/Touj0spCP0I/AAAAAAAAAKg/FI1XwkX6glc/s320/students%2Bwith%2Bflags.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659797482452959042" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This picture is dedicated to all of you who helped with our project!</span></b></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Today was the much-anticipated “Parade of Nations” for my Year 7 students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I began the postcard project back in May, my objectives for the students were to raise their level of reading comprehension and to increase their knowledge of the world at large.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>From a reading and writing project, it soon evolved into an ongoing geography lesson, and in these final weeks, it became an outlet for practicing methods of research and presentations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Last week, all of the names of the countries we had received were put into a bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One by one, the students drew country names until each one had their own country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I then gave each student a packet of information on their country, including printouts from Encyclopedia Britannica, a map of their country, and of course, the post cards received from their country, and guided them through the material, helping them highlight key information and answer guiding questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Next, they had to assemble a paragraph worth of information on their country, and when that was complete, I gave them an atlas and they were responsible for finding their country’s flag and painting it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So after days of preparations, today was the final presentation!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was really exciting for me to see these students get up in front of the class and in English inform their classmates of their chosen country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A lot of new words were learned, and although it was a challenging assignment, I think everyone gained something from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">After the presentations, we went outside and took a class photo of the kids and their flags.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-5156364360003225152011-10-03T21:06:00.001-07:002011-10-04T17:32:43.006-07:00Frangipani<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YROvBxuBUXU/ToulSH21xaI/AAAAAAAAAKw/afypOaSYkTA/s1600/school%2Bhair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 305px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YROvBxuBUXU/ToulSH21xaI/AAAAAAAAAKw/afypOaSYkTA/s320/school%2Bhair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659799087486453154" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Nothing beats the sensation of walking past a flowering frangipani tree and catching a whiff of it’s sweet scent in the breeze, picking one of the white buds and placing it behind your ear, savoring the fresh scent all day long.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-44874131690021577652011-10-03T21:04:00.000-07:002011-10-03T21:05:28.447-07:00Teach Your Children Well<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Last week was the trial exam for the Year 8 students’ National Exam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Every day, the students in Year 8 came to school to take a 2-hour practice exam for the final exam, which will be held in two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>On top of the pressure of the exam, the Year 8 students and their parents were also required to prepare food for the teachers all week. As traditional school feasts go, we were treated to fried chicken and sausage every day, stir-fried noodles, and lots of taro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Boiled eggs and buttered bread rounded out the mix and the koko samoa flowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a nice change, since we are not usually served meals at school (many schools in Samoa do have this luxury!)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">During our extended breakfasts and lunches, the students were left on their own, and supervised by a top student or two from the level above them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being that we took our breakfast in the classroom holding grades two and three, I was privileged to witness these tiny children teaching each other, and what a sight it was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Year 3 teachers’ grandchildren are both in Year 3, and so they naturally took over the class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The little boy likes to rule like his grandmother and would walk to the front of the room with a big stick, ready to hit any children who misbehaved or got an answer wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The granddaughter was much sweeter though and would sit at the teachers desk, calling up students to recite things on the board and encouraging them with phrases like, “Very good, Peni, keep it up!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This went on the whole time we ate and although I felt a little guilty for sitting there watching the children teach themselves, it was so adorable, and there was something remarkable about witnessing the students drive to learn from each other in the absence of a teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>These children do not have it easy, and to see them take the initiative to continue learning was quite admirable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I like to think that in five years, this class will have great results on their Year 8 exam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And who knows, maybe I will be back to see it!</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-10351761634831929892011-09-23T10:39:00.000-07:002011-09-23T10:40:55.113-07:00The Island Perimeter Relay Race 2011<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">This year I participated in the Island Perimeter Relays Race once more, but due to knee injury, this year I was not a runner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being an honorary member of Team Kope Keine (or in English, “Hurry Girls!), I was made the team driver, responsible for getting the runners from one exchange point to the next, making sure each runner was sufficiently supported in terms of food, drink and medical relief, and possibly most important, scouting out Mormon Church’s (for those who do not know, Mormon churches have SWEET bathrooms!)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The race was as epic as any 104km run can be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After an evening of preparing sandwiches, filtering water, and me learning to drive on the wrong side of the road, we got to bed early in anticipation of our 2:45am wake up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By 3am we were out the door, and at 4am, the first runner took to the empty road, glows-tick baton in hand and ipod strapped on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In order of runners, our team consisted of 6 Peace Corps girls: Natalie “the animal” hailing from group 83, Kaelin “the flash,” Jenny “kuka and MVP,” Lily “the warrior,” Dana “the killer,” and Corina “CorinaC”* (her name sounds cooler altogether but due to Peace Corps policies I cannot give her full name here).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was given the snazzy original name “Driver.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">As one can expect, the day was full of emotion and team spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Along the way, Peace Corps who were not running met us on the road to cheer on the runner and give support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Inside the car, we blasted our favorite “pump you up” tunes and tried to keep the atmosphere light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ten hours and forty-three minutes after setting out we reached the finish line in Apia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Many of our office staff had turned out to cheer on the runners at the finish line as well as a host of volunteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a really beautiful day highlighting the tight bond that has formed between this group of 35 volunteers and our staff and I am proud to say that I was a part of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Kope Keine took first place in the open women’s division and the mixed team of Peace Corps Runners took first in their division as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am proud to be a part of Peace Corps Samoa!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-48618132588191221802011-09-23T10:36:00.000-07:002011-09-23T10:37:48.791-07:00Keke Pua'aKeke pua’a translates to “pig cake.” It is a glorious Samoan food combining three of my guiltiest food pleasures: fried dough, soy sauce, and pig (or really any of the various mystery meats that find their way inside of these tasty buns!) Keke pua’a costs $1 tala (or about 45 cents) and can be found for sale on the side of the street, at school canteens, and at the market, but my favorite keke pua’a are the ones sold between the hours of 4am and 6am at the Salelologa wharf. This delicacy has indeed become one of the main reasons I opt for riding the ridiculously early 6am ferry when travelling to Apia. Yes, it requires me to wake up at 2:45am and catch the 3:30 bus to town, but it is well worth it, for nothing beats fried salty meat and soy sauce in the morning!Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-9913115814968575432011-09-14T19:48:00.000-07:002011-09-14T19:49:10.597-07:00Farewell to Mail<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">1:58pm I receive a text from Emi: “Are you home, I have your mail.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was at home and asked where she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“On the bus, about 15 minutes out, will text when I get closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Left side of the bus.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And so it went that on this raining Wednesday afternoon without having to leave my village I received a carepackage full of delights from home, a postcard from Africa, and music to keep me rockin’ till December!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was all so perfect that I must admit I shed a few tears, missing my friends back home and loving the support they continue to offer me, two years into my program!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To those that have sent mail, postcards, music, etc. during my time here, it goes without saying that it has been super appreciated and keeps me going when I am feeling down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I will be eating Mac and Cheese for dinner tonight and cannot convey my excitement properly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I promise Samoan treats for all of you when I return <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">And as my service comes to an end, I have been advised to put up this statement that reminds me that yes, this experience really is passing: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Any mail you wish to send will probably not reach me before I leave, so it is time to return to emailing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></b>It has been a fun snail mail run while it lasted!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That being said, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">any postcards u may wish to send should be posted no later than the end of this month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></b>Thanks to all who have participated, my students and I truly appreciated your support and eagerness to see our project succeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Thank you!!!!</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-44770786690130934062011-09-14T18:55:00.000-07:002011-09-14T19:52:01.390-07:00Manu v. Namibia<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WsEn61YLvXE/TnFoJX0DA5I/AAAAAAAAAKY/Nk5oy5Y8kyc/s1600/P1040457.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WsEn61YLvXE/TnFoJX0DA5I/AAAAAAAAAKY/Nk5oy5Y8kyc/s320/P1040457.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652413517547111314" /></a><br />“Are you from Namibia?” a man asked me as I was fighting my way to the front of the ticket mob, pushing and shoving to get our tickets for the 4pm ferry. “No, Go Manu!” was my reply! This was to the be the boat-ride of the year, for boarding time was 3:20 and the Manu Samoa were set to play their first rugby match against Namibia at 3:30. Wearing my blue shirt for support I rushed onto the boat at 3:20 to join the crowd gathered in the air-conditioned area of “the big boat.” This ferry is new to Samoa, beginning its operation just last year and boasting two flat screen TVs inside the air-conditioned cabin. Of course, it was the place to be for the match. The seats quickly filled and in no time at all we were watching the players march solemnly into the stadium in New Zealand. The Samoan national anthem was played and a few patriotic Samoans sang along on the boat. Next the Namibian anthem was played, and then we got the show we were all waiting for. The Samoans took the field and performed their traditional war dance, the haka. The boat went crazy as the men chanted and slapped their arms and chests! And then the game began and I remembered that I do not understand rugby. But there was hope! Sitting behind me was a man from New Zealand calling out all of the terms and thus educating my American sporting mind. I found myself really getting into the excitement of the match. Number 11, can’t remember his name, was unstoppable and scored almost all of the teams touches. The kicker was also precise and the whole team just stunned me with their athleticism. I had to feel sorry for Namibia as the game wore on, for they were just towered over by the powerful Samoan team. A controversial play that was particularly memorable was seeing one Manu player practically “clothesline” a Namibian player – at it was considered fair play! Wow, rugby is an intense game! The match was a sweep and at the end of the brutal game, Samoa walked away the victors, having scored 48 points to Namibia’s… zero. Next match is set for Friday, and as long as my schedule allows, I will be on the ferry cheering on the Manu!Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-12475902227056038052011-09-04T17:04:00.000-07:002011-09-04T17:05:02.223-07:00I Get By With a Little Help From My FriendsIn rereading some of my earlier posts, I have noticed a trend in my writing themes: laundry, lack of water, and the kindness of others. Today I intend to focus on all three.
<br />I awoke as usual around 6:30am and did some yoga. While in a meditative state, I resolved not to go to church and at the same time not to go to Apia as I had intended. I figured this Sunday would be the perfect day to catch up on laundry, reorganize the house, and get in some good hours on guitar. All was going according to plan. Laundry was soaking, kitchen was polished, and my guitar was waiting patiently for me in the corner. I decided I should get the laundry out in the sun sooner than later, so I went to ring it out and then as is always the case when I have planned a laundry day, the water was not running for me to complete the “rinse” cycle (aka dumping the clothes into a bucket full of non-soapy water.) I figured I would give it a half hour then try the tap again.
<br />At that moment, my neighbors called me over for the Sunday meal, so I went over to feast of pig, taro, and chop-suey (all the staples of a toonai.) I noticed their tap was running, so at the end of the meal I returned to my house with high hopes for my laundry. But I was out of luck. Not only was my tap not running but the spigot near the store was off as well, meaning my side of the road was without water once again. I called my neighbors as asked if theirs was still on. They apologized saying no, but assured me it would be on again in a few hours. I told them my laundry dilemma and they asked if I would like to come finish it at their house. I did not want to impose on their water supply, but they insisted that they had a 44 -gallon barrel of water set aside for these reasons.
<br />I loaded my soapy laundry into my own smaller bucket and walked over to their stashed water. And twenty minutes later, my laundry was hanging on the line to dry during the prime sunny hours of the day. Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends. ☺
<br />Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-58052792027553099502011-09-04T17:02:00.000-07:002011-09-04T17:13:40.918-07:00Teuila Thursday<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pXZBBMSNWxA/TmQT8HMJF-I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/yA8J87oFCC4/s1600/teuila%2Bfest%2Bsam.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pXZBBMSNWxA/TmQT8HMJF-I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/yA8J87oFCC4/s320/teuila%2Bfest%2Bsam.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648661756072499170" /></a>
<br />This week marked Samoa’s’ annual “Teuila Festival,” a festival celebrating Samoan culture and geared towards tourism. In Apia it is a big deal and every night different events take place, ranging from the Miss Fa’afafine Pageant (drag queen Miss Samoa) as well as the REAL Miss Samoa Pageant, to traditional Samoan dance competitions and my favorite, the long boat race. In the village however, it is re of an after thought. People gather at night to watch the televised broadcasts and speculate on the results of the Miss Samoa Pageant, but for the most part, the festival is not celebrated.
<br />However, Thursday as I walked to school I was greeted by the decorated faces of the village’s two women’s committees. The village, being so large, is divided into two groups: the sasa’e group (meaning south/east), and the north/west, although I forgot the name for that group. Around 7:30 in the morning, the women of the north/west, all wearing red and white, were gathering at Mina’s house across the street from me. As I walked by, Sineva ran out and insisted I join their group once school let out. I agreed and so began my day.
<br />An hour later, school was over, as all the teachers were planning to participate in the villages Teuila activities. I raced home, but on my Maliolio Girls shirt (from the Samoa Challenge last year), and got to the volleyball court where the games were just beginning. The south/east team was decked out in red and blue shirts with yellow lavalavas and had clearly been practicing, because they began singing and dancing at 9am and did not stop all day! My team was a little less organized and it took some coaxing to get them signing, but both sides were merry and fierce on the court.
<br />The volleyball games went on for hours, and not once was I invited to play, although I had been chosen for a team. Then finally, my opportunity came and I was thrown in. I soon remembered how much I dislike volleyball, and the blazing noon sun only furthered my lack of enthusiasm for the sport. I enjoyed my first game, and then was shocked to learn that my team, although the losing team, was slated to play two more rounds! By the end we were all exhausted, however, in traditional festival mode, we all danced back to our teams shaded trees where the older woman were beating time on old metal cracker containers and the younger woman sang. This strut back to our team areas turned into a dance off with every woman trying to out dance the others. Laughter, song, and dance grew to a loud peak, and then died off to await the next round of players. The day continued like this till 5pm at which point the women sang their final songs and then loaded up into cars to drive home and reflect on the day. I will never forget the music of that day!
<br />Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-76356941770656651352011-08-27T14:49:00.000-07:002011-08-27T14:50:59.930-07:00Brooms<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Today I was able to check off a long awaited goal of Peace Corps Samoa – that is, I learned how to make the wispy brooms, called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">salu</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A few weeks ago at school I had mentioned to Sapi, one of my year 8 students, that I desperately needed a new salu for my house and that I would love to make my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Come to my house after school!” she immediately offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was going to Apia that afternoon and had to pass, but I told her I would love to take her up on the offer the following week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>So today Sapi arrived at my house around 2pm telling me to get ready, her father, Siaki, would be here with his car any minute to take me to their home at the other side of the village (about a 30 minute run away from my home…so pretty far!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We arrived at her home and gathered in the large open fale to drink koko and watch music videos with the rest of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sapi disappeared to cook our lunch as I conversed with her father, grandfather, mother, little sister, two little brothers, and two men from the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The youngest brother was not happy about something or other and kept balling up his fist in a tight ball and with the full force a four year old can offer was laying punches into his mothers arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She just laughed and called him cheeky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled and hoped he wouldn’t turn on me, because I would not be so polite in dealing with him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sapi soon reappeared with chicken soup and rice, and it was delicious!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">After lunch, Sapi grabbed a fine matt and some pillows and dragged them outside to the shade of a mango tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The children and I lay under the tree digesting and enjoying the breeze while her father went of to collect coconut leaves for our project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>About a half hour later he returned and Sapi’s mother, Matelena, brought us each a knife (me, Sapi, and Sapi’s 7 year old sister, Gagau).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The girls each took a coconut palm and handed me one as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They then proceeded to show me how trim the desired leaves to their spines and pluck them off the main stalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After we had collected a pile of about one hundred spines, we returned to the matts in the shade and began the task of cleaning the stalks with our knives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sapi taught me how to press the knife against my thumb and glide the blade against the spine of the stalk to strip it of any remaining leaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Once “cleaned,” we cast the finished stalks aside and continued with our task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Over the next hour we worked together to create two brooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sapi said I should take both home, but after all of her work and the generosity of her family, I insisted that they keep one for their own home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The afternoon was quite memorable and reaffirmed everything I have been telling myself about these next few months:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>that I must seize every opportunity I can to live village life to the fullest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Since I had travelled so far from my home, I was able to interact with the women who live on the other side of town who I rarely see, and truly took them by surprise when they found me making brooms right next to their scheduled volleyball game!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was really fun just sitting around chatting with them and laughing, laughing, laughing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In this spirit, I had made a solid commitment to not turn down any invitation that comes my way from here on out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So tomorrow night, I will once again join this great family, for their Friday night dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am so excited at the outcome of today and have already made a mental list of other skills to acquire (and where to go to acquire them!) before leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Three months to go, and it doesn’t feel like enough time to do it all!</p> <!--EndFragment--> Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-72712625188299429262011-08-21T13:40:00.000-07:002011-08-21T13:41:57.277-07:00Le Manu Samoa!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wj8C_00ttDY/TlFtbotKseI/AAAAAAAAAKI/DeSE5O4QOE4/s1600/manu%2Bfans.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wj8C_00ttDY/TlFtbotKseI/AAAAAAAAAKI/DeSE5O4QOE4/s320/manu%2Bfans.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643412129622700514" /></a>
<br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Yesterday around 2pm I found myself in a taxi heading towards the market to catch the bus to go back to my village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Low on cash and exhausted, I figured it was for the best to leave Apia Saturday instead of Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then in an instant, it all changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I was approaching my final destination, the Australian rugby team passed by heading towards their match in Apia Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was caught in a moment of limbo, and then instantaneously asked the taxi to turn around:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>when will I ever have the opportunity to watch the Manu Samoa play live again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I could not miss!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I raced back to the office where I found Elise and Matt getting ready to go to the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Remembering there was blue face paint in the office, I asked Elisa if she would paint my face, and then I painted hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We raided the offices “free box,” and were soon geared up and ready to go cheer on our team!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Walking to the game which was to take place about a mile down the road from our office, we found ourselves loaded with excitement and anticipation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The street was filled with others decked out in their white and blue Manu gear, all heading to THE place to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">We arrived at the stadium, which felt like entering another world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>High, clean bleachers surrounded a pristine field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Samoan flags waved in the wind, and the bleachers, packed with fans, seemed to sway as the ocean of blue danced and sang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The game began and I quickly realized that I do not know the rules of rugby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I met an Australian woman who tried to explain it to me, but ultimately, we were both at a loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Here is what I took out of the game:</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">1.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>Samoans are incredibly quiet spectators, until a “touch” is made.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">2.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>Rugby is WAY more intense than American football – they do not wear padding of any kind!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">3.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>The players throw themselves at one another, sometimes being dragged across the field – their laundry bills must be high!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">4.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>The ball can bounce off the ground without going out of play.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">5.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>The kickers would make great NFL kickers as they kick from seemingly impossible angles.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left:1.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span style="mso-bidi-mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin;font-family:Cambria;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">6.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span>The team does NOT always do the Haka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Too bad!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Overall, I am incredibly happy with my decision to stay for the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I felt like I was witnessing some great feat of human power watching those teams battle it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the end, THE MANU SAMOA WON!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All in all, it was a great day!</p> <!--EndFragment--> Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-10297048218940027812011-08-09T17:28:00.000-07:002011-08-09T17:30:50.222-07:00Savor the Moment<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OAc0Q1XV_Aw/TkHRDyr-G3I/AAAAAAAAAKA/E0PRzfFGNeE/s1600/ants%2Bin%2Btea.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OAc0Q1XV_Aw/TkHRDyr-G3I/AAAAAAAAAKA/E0PRzfFGNeE/s320/ants%2Bin%2Btea.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639018071520582514" /></a>
<br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">With under four months left till my departure from Samoa, I have been making a conscious effort to appreciate the here and now while I still can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For a while I found myself caught up in a last quarter funk, desperately craving the comforts of home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But then it hit me, when will I ever have the chance to live in a Samoan village again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I need to live each day to the fullest and take in all Samoa has to offer before it’s too late.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Strolling to school in the mornings, I no longer rush by the women as they ask me where I am going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Instead, I make an effort to engage them in conversation, if only for a brief moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yesterday was the epic return of BINGO to the village and I found myself sitting in the middle of the huge church hall with a circle of teachers, in a situation where I once felt out of place but now felt among friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I looked around the room between games and was met by smiles of familiar faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And in the end, even though I spend $24 to place and only made back $2, the day was worth it for the memories alone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Today in school there was no tea to start the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Having had a heavy morning of song practice with grades 3, 4, 5, and 6, I eagerly awaited the bell signaling interval, and guaranteeing tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When the time finally came, a fifth grader brought me my cup with a smile: “Rachel, tea!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I took my cup, gazed into the milky mixture, and had to laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not one, not two, not three, or four, but five ants were floating at the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With less ants I would have scooped them out and drank my tea, but following the culinary rules I have come to learn over the years, for than 4 bugs in a dish means time to toss it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I took out my water bottle, soothing my over worked voice, and made a mental note to enjoy the moment, for in America, I doubt I would have laughed being served ants for lunch!</p> <!--EndFragment--> Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-3603958180128528322011-08-04T14:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T14:35:04.927-07:00Hey, Jude!This blog is dedicated to Mystery Man Jude, travelling through Asia and Europe and sending post cards as he goes. I think our count is close to 10 but I haven't been to the post office in a week, so I can't wait to see what awaits me when I go. To you, I just wanted to say an official, blogged-out THANK YOU, because without your support, my project wouldn't be nearly as full. The kids love your notes and have learned so much about a part of the world previously so foreign to them. So Jude, thank you again. My kids would love to write back to you and to your students as well, so if you read this note, I would love to get your information. Till then, I will remain your grateful, curious, snail-mail friend!Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-89489302009398356932011-07-19T17:35:00.000-07:002011-07-19T17:36:12.366-07:00Diagnosing the Problem<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Yesterday I walked home from school feeling exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I felt the sense of accomplishment that usually accompanies pure exhaustion when suddenly it hit me: what had I actually accomplished?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had walked to school late, leaving my house when the morning assembly usually begins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Upon arriving at school I had not attended the assembly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Instead, I had opened up the staff room, turned on the copier, and put on my glasses, prepping myself for the day of photocopying at hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is exam week and so naturally on the first day of the exams, all of the teachers run to me to ask me to copy their exams that they had created over the weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have been encouraging them to learn to use the copier themselves and type their own exams since it will be upon them when I am gone next year, but I make exceptions for exams week, knowing that they are all very busy preparing tests for five subjects, where as I am done after making my two for English and Reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In anticipation for this, I had prepared my English Exam last week, knowing I would be swamped with requests to type, copy, and staple this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I began my copies and all was well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then, tragedy struck:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>a teacher brought me her exam to type, and the computer would not turn on! Walking home later in my exhaustion, I thought back on the day of mindless copying and computer failure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To the best of my abilities, I had tried to figure out what was wrong, but in the end, I had made only the most basic of diagnoses: that something was most definitely wrong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I caught myself feeling accomplished and laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Today, the computer people will be called and we will try to work this out over the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tomorrow, hopefully we can all get back to our normal routine of typing and printing, just in time for the final exams.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-2620200939623244522011-07-19T17:34:00.000-07:002011-07-22T17:33:47.109-07:00Making Paper<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dj1Jj9QlXLA/TioW4gDMpqI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/VPqE7g5I6m4/s1600/paper.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dj1Jj9QlXLA/TioW4gDMpqI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/VPqE7g5I6m4/s320/paper.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632339443912058530" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I remember making recycled paper when I was a kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I did not remember how much preparation is involved and how messy it can be!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I guess those are the things you learn as you move from the role of the child to the role of the adult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In anticipation for “Earth Week 2011” (to be held next week, just a few months past the official date), I have been creating Earth friendly lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Lessons to be taught include the importance of recycling, the harms of pollution, and how we can all pitch in to help keep Samoa, and the world, beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Although I am still a new teacher, I learned a very important lesson from my “No Bake Cookie” lesson a few months back:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>that is, do not attempt a project in the classroom you have not already rehearsed at home!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So yesterday was the trial run for paper making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Pisi, my next-door neighbor and one of the top students in the school, came over to assist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Every day for the past week she had been coming over to ask if we would be making paper today, but due to rain, lack of running water, and lack of supplies, the much-anticipated trial did not take place until yesterday.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Last week at school I had doen a major clean up, and instead of throwing out my paper, I ripped it into small shreds and through it all into a bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yesterday, I took out the blender that has been acquiring dust below my sink and we began the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had Pisi pick some flowers to incorporate into our paper, and then we each took turns dipping the wood-framed molds into the pulpy mixture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The color was a light blue, and we carefully inlaid pink flowers to give our stationary a nice look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As mentioned before, the paper was surprisingly messy to make, but the overall steps were easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">One on one the process was smooth, but in a class of 30 students it might get a bit out of control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Luckily I will have Arianna’s helping hands, as well as the teachers of the school, so divided into small groups, I think the project will be a great success!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>More on Earth Week to come next week.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-59490228203886592242011-07-19T17:33:00.001-07:002011-07-19T17:33:40.819-07:00Cup of NoodlesWhen I was twelve I went to sleep-away camp for the first time and was introduced to another first: the wonder that is the “Cup of Noodles.” I had never had these three minute noodles before and I soon learned that they were the best late night snack and quick meal replacement. All you need is hot water (sink water worked in our case back then) and three minutes. Fork and seasoning come included! My bunkmates were obsessed with the noodles and I remember one girl having her mom ship up a Costo sized crate of them, ideally to last her all summer. Thinking back on those camp days, I wonder how any of us could ever have opted for the Cup of Noodle meal when the camp had employed some of the best chefs in the state of Maine (ok, that may be an exaggeration, but our camp food was real good, borderline great for cafeteria style cooking…I mean, there was a vat of marshmallow fluff present at every meal!) <br /><br />Comparing those Maine Teen Camp days to life in Samoa, I envy those kids whom this very day are eating French-toast by the plate full and Spaghetti Bolognese fit for a king, while I attend a staff meeting and am served a Cup of Noodles. My dinner for the past three nights has been some form of quick noodle. I was recently introduced to a form of the noodle that cooks in three minutes and then you drain it and mix in the seasonings. It feels real classy. I bet the sodium levels are off the roof, so it’s a good thing I can’t read Chinese! I wonder if the kids at camp are still requesting boxes of the noodles from their loving parents, or if that fad has passed and they have finally learned that in the end, nothing beats a real, homecooked meal.Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-10730683843078194822011-07-17T02:11:00.000-07:002011-07-17T02:13:15.351-07:00Serenaded at Sunset<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I boarded the bus back to my village around 5pm and took my normal seat towards the front of the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The front is usually reserved for older men and women, handicapped people, pregnant women, and foreigners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I always feel a little guilty sitting up there and am quick to move if someone gets on and needs my seat, but I always start off trying for one, since I am typically one of the first passengers to exit the bus and it is a hassle to try to pass 40 other people through the isles!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The ferry was docking and I knew we still had 5 or 10 minutes before the mad dash began for the boat passengers to exit the ferry and grab a seat on their respective buses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For some reason the bus drivers are not very patient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When the bus seems full (enough), they take off with heavy feet in the direction of their final destinations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Any delays exiting the ferry and one is likely to miss their bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">A handful of other passengers had already boarded the bus and were going through the pre-departure routine of buying keke pua’a, “chips tala,” popcorn, and donuts from the child vendors meandering through the packed bus lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I bought myself a bag of popcorn and sat back to enjoy one of my favorite pastimes: people watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">In the front set of our bus, a man sat with a megaphone, a ukulele, and dark glasses on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I quickly realized he was blind, and then it struck me: he was the same singer that plays at the wharf on Upolu!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Many times I had listened to his music while waiting for the ferry to depart, and as it turned out, today I was in luck, for he soon picked up his megaphone and announced that he would be playing music during the bus trip!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The bus loaded and we were off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As promised, the man soon picked up his ukulele and began to play. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I could hardly contain my smile as we made our way up the coast listening to his mellow vocals and soft ukulele.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I tipped down my sunglasses, leaned back and closed my eyes, almost on the verge of tears from the beauty of it all:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Of the music, of my surroundings, of life in Samoa, and of the fact that four more months still awaited me, ready to surprise me at any moment, just like today had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And then the moment was shattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Some young Samoan, in their need to play DJ, took out their cell phone, turned the speakers on, and started blaring that same, maddening synthesized music that you hear everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To my disbelief, NO ONE SAID ANYTHING!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I turned and gave my meanest stare but that wasn’t enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This rude, ignorant teen (wow, I feel old!) kept his music on, challenging that of the singer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I leaned my head closer to the music coming from the front of the bus, straining my ears to catch the music, but the moment had passed, and I could not get back to the serenity from which I had came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I felt tension and anger building within me at the situation, and on the verge of yelling, I did the next best thing:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>took out my headphones and tuned out the battling musicians with some Phish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My BOSE headphones did the trick, and soon I was floating in a haze of memories from concerts past and daydreaming of future shows yet to come.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">At one point, I curiously removed an earbud to check on the progression of the musicians’ battle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To my pleasure, my guy had won, and the bus was once again driving to his tranquil tunes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled, but not quite ready to leave my newfound peace, I replaced the earbud in my ear and turned to face the rushing trees as the bus danced on through the jungle at sunset, towards home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8721175034837860292.post-88859732177975778292011-07-15T22:51:00.001-07:002011-07-16T14:17:39.814-07:00Fake Flowers, Farewell to the Chief<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mu8cWEVjDVk/TiH_wpBy3uI/AAAAAAAAAJI/bNUBHgYCExY/s1600/fake%2Bflowers.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mu8cWEVjDVk/TiH_wpBy3uI/AAAAAAAAAJI/bNUBHgYCExY/s320/fake%2Bflowers.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630062220302016226" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Funeral flowers</span></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Growing up I had a friend whose mother owned a flower arranging business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I distinctly remember her preaching the superiority of fake flowers to the real thing, trying earnestly to convince me that while real flowers will die, the fake ones will last a lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And with a little perfume, the fake ones can smell just as good or even better than those living beauties!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As it turns out, Samoans are on her side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Dressed in my best Sunday Whites and arms loaded with a large ring of fake purple and white flowers (ideal for the death of a man I have been told), I walked down the dirt road towards the church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The service was set to begin at 11am so Mina and I took a slow pace under her umbrella, leaving my house at 10:30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Of course we shouldn’t have bothered, as were we by far the first guests to arrive; the next coming almost an hour and a half later, just before the service began at noon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">When the train of cars finally pulled up to the front of the church, we joined the passengers and gathered at the churches entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then, almost in wedding formation, the casket was carried down the center aisle to the front of the church, followed next by the congregation, then family, and last, those of us bearing flowers to drape around the table and casket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was the last one in, not completely sure of my role in the progression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I finally reached the front, I placed my flowers next to another beautiful ring make of blue and yellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Avagas’ sister grabbed my arm and insisted I sit next to her in the front row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And like that, I knew I was family.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It was an emotional service and I understood more than I expected to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The choir had practiced some new songs for the event and they sang with strength I had never heard from them before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was gorgeous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After a bible reading and some words from the pastor, Avagas’ sister took to the podium and weepingly read her speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A matai followed, and then I was next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had prepared a paper with what I intended to say and I had resolved that I would hold it together, but alas, emotion is a powerful thing, and my voice cracked as I began my first words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This being my first eulogy, I had not anticipated the rush of emotion that hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I spoke in English, starting with an apology in Samoan to those who would not understand my words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As my part finished I took my seat, trembling, and Avagas’ sister put her arm around me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“You miss your father, don’t you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smiled and replied, “ioe” (yes).</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The pastor, also a dear friend of Avagas’, told many stories, amusing the audience with his perception of Avaga: “A Jack-of-all-trades, and a master of none.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Amongst his stories, he told one of my favorite stories about Avaga and I, where Avaga had given me his last-name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The congregation let loose in laughter, and my tears dried up as my fond memories overtook the sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Following the service we went to Avagas’ house where a cement tomb had been build and Avaga was placed into the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Removed from the casket, he lay wrapped in blankets, and he looked at peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Our flowers surrounded the tomb, and songs of farewell were sung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then we loaded into cars and travelled to the family home where gifts were presented and food was served.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a day of great sadness, but the love this village had for Avaga shown through and it will remain with me as a beautiful memory of a great friend.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Laselahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17740520330177650066noreply@blogger.com2