"None"

The mayor, pulenuu, of my village was let go. I’m not sure what the actual reason is/was; and I think it is wise not to rely on the various creative answers given to me by the women of the committee. I guess I’ll refine the information given into a sort of truth. I do know he was asked to step down 2 years shy of his family’s allotted 3 years to hold the position. Then, later that day, he was struck by lightning. He was knocked unconscious and has pretty awful looking burns on his chest, but is apparently okey dokey. He didn’t even go to the hospital. This just isn’t his week. His wife is having a baby soon. They told me, if it’s a girl, it will be named after me and if it’s a boy it will be named after my father, Wally. Hopefully that process goes a little smoother.

Women in Samoa can’t or don’t do a lot of things. They usually don’t hold Matai titles (ie they don’t hold political positions of power in the village council of cheifs). Usually. There is one woman mataii in my village. Her name is Luama. She runs a Noni Juice factory, is working on becoming a certified organic farmer, is partial owner of a flipflop (the staple shoe of Samoa) company, knows how to drive a delivery truck, is a selfmade woman, generally kicks ass and is quite a role model. (contradiction) She smokes, which is another things women don’t do, at least often, in public. The older a woman, the more slack she is given. You just don’t tell an elder what’s what here. Men do smoke in public. Women drinking alcohol in the village is a major taboo. I should add that after talking to other volunteers, the aforementioned may be more applicable in some villages than others. Like mine. Women do not drink alcohol in Tufu. Women, likewise, traditionally, don’t drink Ava. Ava, or Kava, is a tepid tea of dried ground pepper plant root mixed with water. Ava drinking ceremonies are commonly given to visiting parties as a village welcome. A young virgin girl, the taupou, mixes the Ava and all the dudes sit around in specially designated places and say specially designated things and drink Ava. Or, probably more commonly, there is no virgin or party to welcome, just a bunch of old farts having social hour. It‘s this country‘s version of the table of grandpas at Pig and Pancake that sip coffee all morning. The next house over is where they all gather in Tufu. I know Ava is also common at Samoan construction sites. Okay, so it is a mild stimulant and it makes your lips and tongue numb. Drinking Ava all morning affects me less than consuming 16 oz. of coffee (which throws me into a complete spaz). It’s pretty harmless. It tastes like Mate, which in turn tastes very similar to dirt. Oh, not that I would know… (As I write this, the old men are at it again, giggling like 1st grade girls).

---- A few weeks ago I was schlepping around my house when I spotted the whole matai council trekking up my hill. I was their target and I scrambled to find appropriate clothing, which I didn’t really. They crowded onto my porch and talked to me about the proposal I wrote to the UNDP for water tanks. They had some questions, but mainly just wanted to thank me for my effort. (I really hope the proposal is approved). To show their appreciation, I was invited to join them to drink Ava! I told them I heard it was forbidden for women, but they assured me this was a special case and they would love my company. They said I should change my clothes while they mixed the Ava and a boy would come and get me. So they all went to the fale next door and I changed and sat on my porch; waiting and waiting and waiting…. like a dumbass, apparently. The mataiis had pulled a prank on the Peace Corps girl. They drank their Ava without me and shared quite a few jokes on my behalf that morning. Now every time I see one of them, they dramatically asked me why I never showed up and tell me how sad everyone was that I didn’t come. Alright, matais, I see what your playing. It‘s the practical joke game and I am in.

Finally! I got the ladies to take me fishing. I’ve been asking to go for 3 months. They were afraid I would slip on the wet rocks and break my neck… which I almost did, but only twice. And they totally biffed it too. We have about a mile of coast in Tufu: white sand with tide pools created by lava flow and a small lagoon (used for washing and bathing). Lady fishing is the harvesting of creatures from the pools at low tide. Man fishing is of the fishy type with a spear, rod and hook, or a paopao (outrigger canoe) past the reef. Man fishing past the reef scares the crap out of me, but I want to go sometime. And good luck to me on that. I send everyone into hysterics when I say I want to go. They sarcastically ask me if I am going to kill a shark: which I plan on doing and don‘t get the joke. So, the ladies (and kids) collect crabs, clams, oysters, lots of other mollusks, sea cucumber guts, whatever they can find. It’s a delicate dance scampering over wet smooth stone (with a foot long machete) to catch a spastic crab and I’ve acquired a new level of respect for my ladies and my dinner. And words won’t do justice to the beauty of the Tufu coast.

Vanity Fair (November 08), Vitoria, Pepe, and Teuila reading Vanity Fair (July 08)



I cherish my alone time. I get so little. This is how my living situation works. Samoan women fall into (at least) 1 of 4 groups. Aualuma, Faletua, Tausi, and Tamaitai o Taulealea. Respectively, women born in the village, wives of chiefs, wives of talking chiefs, and wives of untitled men. The four groups make up the women’s committee. I live in a little traditional Samoan house next to the women’s committee house (right next to, 9 feet). The bottom half of my walls are corrugated metal, the top half is screen. I hear and see everything they do and vice versa. The four groups alternate weeks in which they leoleo me. “Protect, watch over, or police”. And do they ever. There are constantly multiple women sitting in the open air committee house (still 9 feet away) leoleoing. They feed me and keep me company and harass me with inappropriate questions and comments. Often their kids not-yet-in-school accompany them and find entertainment in staring at me through my window. It’s pretty fun to watch me being grumpy that kids are staring at me through my window. The women are pressed for engaging activities as well. A few of them bring their fine mats to work on or their sewing machines. Most of the time they occupy themselves with faitala, gossip. Luckily they want their free time to be engaged more productively and we are in the process of starting a sewing center (with hand crank machines). Myself and a few knowledgeable Tufu residents are going to provide weekly lessons in basic sewing technique when we get the machines. The ladies can work on doing something productive in their free time and once the skill becomes second nature, they can multi task with gossip. I have gracefully fought to live here sans the leoleo and Tufutafoe is just not having it. So for now, I have only the rare hour alone when someone forgets to show up to protect me. And know that when this happens it is a great tragedy/embarrassment for the committee (in the eyes of the committee alone). Samoan culture excludes the virtues of alone time. Unfortunately.

The school garden. Tufutafoe Primary School’s motto is No Pain No Gain. Corporal punishment is illegal here, but a law that is often disregarded. Our school’s teachers luckily employ good judgement, SO, the motto can be looked at humorously. Hahaha. We have a five room school house. There are 8 levels and 3 teachers… we are 1 short due to a maternity leave. When fully staffed, each teacher has 2 grade levels, or around 25 kids. Year 1s are about 5 or 6 years old and Year 8s are 12 or 13. The extra room is used as a library and it is my goal to get a few computers up and running here. The school garden is fenced off and free of vegetation: not a garden yet. We want to turn it into a vegetable garden, starting with eggplant, green peppers, long beans, radishes, and tomatoes. I am planning the garden layout right now and have all the seeds, seedlings, and cuttings. Next week we till, bed, and plant. I am excited about working with the kids on this project. It is going to be educational, aimed at the specific grade level that is helping. The little kids will learn basic (really basic) gardening words in English progressing to the year eighters doing experiments with composting and soil type. There are 8 grade levels, but only 4 classes here. Each teacher has two year groups. By the end of my time here, I want the garden to operate without my supervision. It will be an ongoing project of teaching the kids and staff about seed harvesting, crop rotation, fertilization, irrigation, mulch, etc. Grips of Tufu people are excited about the garden. When word got around, someone donated a chunk land to the Womens Committee so I could work with them as well to start a garden. Helping these two gardens get off the ground is going to be a lot of work…. I am starting to get overwhelmed with projects. The crazy watertanks, a sewing center, new gardens, a school hall design to help another volunteer, a village computer, introducing composting toilets. Oh my.

Update: We planted half the garden. The Year 7 and 8 kids spent a the good part of the day tilling the ground and building beds while I followed them around with seeds and seedlings. We almost lost all our radish seeds when a boy named Mose decided they tasted good. Everything we planted is supposed to do well without much water. I am going to get some more seeds on Friday from another PC volunteer that has managed to cultivate a small vegetable farm in his village. Tufu and I are indebted to him for his book, advice, and example. Thank you, Nick.

Paul, Traditional Samoan Juice, and Nick

What's up!

I wrote Pauly a letter giving him the rundown of a few days in the life of me (here in Samoa). He said it was not what he expected. Here is selected excerpts from that rundown.

Today I:

Woke up at 6. I slept really well last night. I haven’t been using a bug net for a month because it can get stuffy and with a mosquito coil burning, the flying bugs stay away. But, the crawling bugs don’t and I was bit by a centipede, in my sleep, last week. It took until last night to round up my bug net and spray the vicinity with Mortein. Sigh. Relax. I slept well. And centipede bites really (effing) hurt by the way. I was in a dead sleep and I must have felt something crawling on my wrist and tried to brush it off. When it bit me I awoke yelping and confused. It burned for 3 hours and I have welts where his pincers got me. SOB!

Today (one day later) I:

Woke up at 6 again. And built shelves for my cooking and cleaning supplies. Kind of. I jimmy rigged some kind of shelving system. I don’t have a hammer, so I used a rock. Everybody that walked by thought it was hilarious that I was trying to do physical work. They think I am really weak, and also about 3 years old. I think my arm muscles have completely atrophed from lack of use. They won’t even let me change a light bulb. This is Samoan hospitality combined with me being a small physical specimen…. And it is something that has to change! I finished that and fought to do my own laundry. It has been raining, so we have enough water to spare. When it doesn’t rain for a few days, the tank leaks out all her water and I have to get water from the neighbors tank (maybe 1/8th mile away). Someone always does this for me, though I really want to help. I do laundry with 1 bucket. (I had to be taught this) You add soap to the water, throw in the clothes, and hand washed each piece, piling them up on the buckets lid. Then you dump the soapy water in the back of the toilet, refill the bucket and rinse each piece. Hang them on the line and let them stand for about 2 seconds while the blazing sun does her job. A small bundle of clothes take about an hour. Whites turn gray and brown even if separated. I have new (relaxed, way relaxed) criteria for what is an unacceptable “hole” and “stain”.

Later today I:

A **ing centipede fell right on my face! It fell out of my roof which is thatch and they apparently love to live in, out of the thatch right onto my face where it clung to my right eyebrow. After my last incident, the Samoans taught me to quickly sweep away pedes, so they don’t have time to pinch. So I did that and it landed on the collar of my shirt. I shook it off and killed it slowly with my new can of death (Mortein) and a flipflop. These things are big too. This one was only 4 inches long, but that’s a big thing to have stuck to your face. Oh, and also, I have headlice. These teenage girls worked for an hour to pick the eggs and bugs out of my head, but I’m too infested. I need the shampoo. It have been itching for days. Not a good week for me and bugs.


Today (new day) I:

Got a puppy (actually 3 days ago). She’s about 3 months old and a mess. Fleas, ticks, malnourished, and mangy. She’s a mut. The dogs here seem to grow as big as your generosity with food grants: meaning, Palagi dogs get big, tall and healthy while under (or not at all) fed Samoan dogs remain scrawny. I plan on building a beast…. As soon as she can sleep through the night without crying. I’ve had her on a chain for 2 days, as she kept trying to wander back to her old house. After feeding her and cuddling her for just 48 hours, she has repledged her loyalty. To me. Sellout dog! The Samoans named her Uisti (pronounced Wistey), which is almost a kind of cheesy snack chip. Oh, and this was a second choice to Barbie. They were really pushing for Barbie. Since Ts and Ks are interchangeable in the Samoan language, and because she is the same color as a full bottle of JD… I’m calling her Whiskey. The Samoans thought I was out of my mind for holding her. I probably am. I probably have ringworm and typhus now. However when she cried for an hour the first night, and the ladies employed their technique for making things shutup -- hitting and throwing rocks, and that didn’t work, and then I cuddled and cooed her to sleep, I was given a rare compliment, and called poto o le maile. Dog smart. A lot of tough love here in Samoa. Also yesterday, I completed a mini project I’m working on. About 6 weeks ago, we cultivated land for a massive garden at the school. The school is one of the rare spots in the village, through government funding, that has more than enough water tanks… and therefore, water. The garden only has a few laupele plants growing in it, from local cuttings. Laupele is kind of like a hearty spinach substitute leaf that endemically grows on bushes. Its basically the one of the only 2 leafy greens I’ve eaten in the village. To supplement that, I got some seeds from the Samoan Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries. All sorts of seeds (eggplant, peppers, radishes, beans) that are supposed to grow well here. Some people made me planter boxes (because I am incapable of doing something so physically taxing myself) and dirt that is 99% rocks. I sifted the rock dirt and planted my seeds yesterday. Hopefully in a few months we can transplant some seedlings into the school garden. I want to start a garden here at the Womens Committee, too. And what I really want is to teach my Samoans (that’s what I’m going to start calling the people of my village) about, is harvesting the seeds to promote seasonal planting and sustainability. There could be opportunity to grow vegetables here that won’t grow anywhere else in Samoa; the climate is hotter and drier here than the rest of the country. At the very least, fresh veggies will supplement a diet that often times consists (very) primarily of protein and starch. Pork, taro, fish, pork, taro, fish, taro, taro, pork, spam, spam, spam. So, I planted some seeds and we’ll see what happens. This morning I woke up to find the ladies had re-chained Whiskey to the tree that shades my seed boxes. Whiskey was trampling all over my hard work. Why there, ladies? Why that tree and why re-chain her at all? Aua le popole. Sa lou maile manao le paolo. “Don‘t worry, it‘s cool…. Your dog wanted to go in the shade” Yeah right, the shade from the 6:00 am blaring sun? I don’t understand.

Fact:
Out of the 400 people that live in my village, 5 have jobs. 5!!! 4 are teachers at the school and 1 works for the government for like 5 hours a month. There is just no job opportunity here. We are too far away from everything and the bus runs sporadically (and painfully slow). And no motivation. People can get every thing they need to survive from the land and sea. They can make houses from nothing but coconut trees. One plant. One plant! I am just so amazed by this.



That’s all.

My lice are gone, but I had to resort to spraying my head with Mortein (which is apparently the most usefull thing I own). My vegetable seeds sprouted and it was pretty much the proudest day of my life. No wait! 2 days ago when they survived a series of torrential downpours, that was the proudest day of my life. It was like being a proud mother watching your kid win a playground fight. Whiskey has run away to her original home so many times I have given up on retrieving her. The Samoans all made fun of her anyway, calling her a chicken-eater and floozy and ugly skinned. Malosi taa tama lou maile. “Your dog has strong urges to hang out with the boy dogs.” Yep, being an unspayed female… that is biologically hard to deny. It was only a matter of time. Yesterday was my birthday. Moe and Seuula, the couple in the village that have taken me in as one of their own, threw me a party. They brought me Samoan donuts (panikeke) for BFAST, a pig and icecream for LUNCH, and for DINNER: I had to put on my brand new garishly awesome Puletasi that Moe made me. Then Seuula read me a verse from the Bible about the King’s (damned in the eyes of God) mistress having a Birthday and her Birthday wish being the head of John the Baptist. Umm. Seuula told me he hoped I would come up with a better birthday wish than her! Ummm. I think/hope it was just a last minute choice with something about a birthday in it, with no hidden significance. Our dinner was fried chicken, chicken soup, chicken and noodle soup, taro, breadfruit and palusami. Pepe, a nice old lady, gave me some fabric for a dress. My neighbors gave me traditional Samoan war weapon called a tableau “8 spear”. It’s a crazy flat club with 8 points. Totally badass. Then we took pictures and I went to bed at 9:30. Click on my flickr link to see new photogs. XO

In the village of Tufutafoe, Savaii, Western Samoa (In the Peace Corps)

This is my house. It's called a faleo'o.… Let my previous blog entry show the probable regularity of me posting. Here is the rundown. I am in the Peace Corps in Western Samoa. I live in Tufutafoe Savaii on the Falealupo peninsula. I have heard that the westerly most point of the peninsula (probably about a kilometer west of my house) is the westerly most chunk of land in the world (!!!). Yes, if you travel any further west you will be met by acid spewing people-hungry Leviathon Eels that are actually there to protect you from the less fortunate fate of tumbling off the edge of the earth.

I have been in this village for 2 months, and in Samoa for 5 months. We (the original 13 of us in my group) went through 3 months of language and cultural training before separating and being distributed to villages throughout both of Samoa’s 2 islands. So the language. I fluctuate between cheersing myself for being so great at the language in such a short amount of time and crying in defeated self-pity because I am such a language retard. Needless to say, it’s hard to learn a totally new language. And, Samoan has no roots in the foreign German and French I know a little about. It’s all new: think Hawaiian words like “Hawaii”, “Mahi Mahi”, and “Aloha”. My family speaks basically no English and this area of Savaii is quite remote, so there are few English speakers in the village. I will have to get better if I want to accomplish anything, or survive for that matter.

I am here to do WATER SANITATION work. There is not a piped water system. Water needs are satisfied by rainwater harvesting: catchment systems, gutters, and tanks. Water is a precious resource, as the whole peninsula, plus some, falls in a rain shadow as a result of the easterly mountains (amongst other geographical factors). The village really wants supplemental water tanks. I will spend the next few years tackling that, and other stuffs the village is concerned with. It looks like I will be doing some grant writing, teaching, workshop facilitation, bandaid and asprin distribution, etc.

That’s all for now.

So It Begins

I am a Peace Corps Invitee!!! This essentially means that I want to join the PC and it's affirmative they want me to join too. I will hear the exact where, when, and what, when the official invitation package lands on my doorstep (in about 2 weeks?, it's just been sent out from DC). Jeez, I'm brimming with anticipation! I heard the acceptance news, via email, over my morning coffee at work. Pictures below.

This is a pivotal point in the sometimes frustrating (though usually breezier than I expected)beaurocratic I-want-to-join-the-Peace Corps process. I've applied, been interviewed, written my little essays, endured doctor's pokes and prods and psychological evaluations, and now recieved a stamp of approval. I was originally recommended for a position in the Pacific Islands leaving late May/early June of 2008. With my architecture and engineering background, it was thought I would work well in a water and sanitation project management type o' position. Sounds sweet to me.

I think I might be going to either the country of Samoa or Palau. There appears to be programs leaving in my aforementioned projected departure times doing water work both places. I'll wait and see. I'm thrilled and know this is the right thing for me to do right now, but I am already missing certain people that can't come with. Oh dear, goodbyes are difficult.

XO
JK