Malo!
So after getting back from Savaii, we now have a brief stay at the University of the South Pacific in Alafua (our home base) before flying to American Samoa next week. But SIT doesn't let you sit still for long, so this week we are working on our mini ISPs (the semester will culminate in a 30-page Independent Study Project; this is our practice run). The topic I've chosen is studying the Samoan perceptions of Upolu vs. Savaii (the two main islands of Samoa), and particularly looking at prejudices and jealousies.
On Monday, my Academic Director dropped me off at the Government Building in downtown Apia, where I had decided to visit the Department of Statistics. The building, however, proved to be quite confusing; although Western in architecture, it was not Western in use. The front of the building has a large, wide staircase leading to a row of glass doors and a lobby. The Samoans, however, keep these doors locked. I don't know why. And when I asked, they all looked at me like it was normal to instead enter the building through a tiny enclosed staircase on the side of the building, hidden behind an unmarked door.
When I finally found my way to the correct department, I was again astounded by the Samoan-ness of it all. The receptionist could not have been more friendly; she gave me an informal interview and introduced me to a few higher-ups, all of whom did not mind in the least that I had simply waltzed into a government agency and expected to get immediate help. They spent over an hour going over the latest census data and in-country migration rates with me, printing out copies of all the charts I thought might be useful and chatting about my project.
Tuesday night I again found myself loving the friendly and relaxed Samoan attitude. Our assistant language teacher, Ruta, invited a few students to her church for the B'hai Naw Ruz (New Year). The night was filled with delicious food (a feast, if I ever saw one!), adorable children performing songs and dances, the teen group's amazing Samoan slap dances, and games which included the entire community. My favorite game (and the favorite game of many Pacific Islanders, apparently) is Pass the Parcel. There is a "gift" wrapped up in layers and layers of newspaper (the gift is always taro), and everyone sits in a circle passing it around. Music plays in the background and when it stops, the person holding the parcel takes off one layer of the paper and uncovers a slip of paper with an "embarrassing" task on it. Samoan humor seems to be very different from American humor, however, which made participating in the game even more hilarious. We simply couldn't understand why people thought the tasks were so hilariously outlandish! The crowd's favorite, for example, was when a girl who was about eight years old had to blow up a balloon and sit on it. The building shook with laughter when the balloon popped and even the adults were gripping their sides.
I've spent most of the rest of the week collecting surveys for my project and making flight arrangements to visit New Zealand for two weeks at the end of May (I'll then return to Samoa for a week, go home for a week, and fly to Israel!). I'll fill you all in again before we leave for American Samoa next week, and hopefully I'll find some interesting data to share.
Alofa ia te otou! (Love you all!)
Fa,
Leah
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A week in Savaii
Malo!
This past week has been quite the "Spring Break." On Friday, we all took the ferry over to Savaii, the larger but less populated island of Samoa. We stayed in Tanu Beach Fales for the weekend, ta'ele-ing (swimming), savavali-ing (going for walks), malolo-ing (resting), faitau-ing (reading) and generally enjoying life. There was home-cooked food, a fiafia, upbeat songs and merriment.
Warren, an older gentleman from Australia originally and our professor for the week, took us all around the island Monday through Thursday. We went to lava fields, freshwater springs, swimming holes, waterfalls, the beach, some blowholes, sea cliffs, and even hiked a volcano (my favorite part of this particular hike was that a man with a machete had to lead the group through the jungle)to learn about the geography and geology of the island.
The most I learned about Samoa this past week, however, was not about the olivine brought to the surface by an ancient eruption of an inland volcano, but about Savaii's hospital, where I spent Tuesday afternoon. On our drive back to the Safua Hotel from learning how to make tapa, we stopped for ice cream, where Warren's helper, Samisoni, got out to phone his wife. When he came back to the car, Samisoni informed Warren that he would like to stop at the hospital where his nine-month-old son Joplin was being treated. He came back to the car and said that Joplin needed a blood transfusion and neither he nor his wife could give blood. I, of course, asked what the baby's blood type was and he said "A," uncertain whether it was positive or negative. I told him that I was A positive and that if it turned out I was a match, to come back to the hotel and get me.
After I had showered and was settling into the adventures of Frodo (I'm reading Lord of the Rings), a knock came upon the door. Samisoni, who does not speak much English just said, "You go to hospital?" I said yes, grabbed a water bottle and hopped in the van. We arrived at the hospital and for the next half hour, I mostly just followed people around when they said, "come!" and tried to understand the rapid Samoan conversations going on around me. I had no idea what was wrong with the baby or even where he was. The restroom in the hospital had no toilet paper, soap, or paper towels and all the signs were in Samoan. I finally entered a room and was told to sit in a chair as a man in a lab coat pricked my thumb, took some of my blood and went into a back room cluttered with lab equpiment and papers. He emerged after a few minutes, said something to Samisoni, who went to get his wife, Onivi, and then we stood and smiled at each other, for neither of us had much to say or were able to say much the other would understand. Onivi, Samisoni, and the lab guy spoke in Samoan for about ten minutes, every so often looking at me, pointing at me, or saying my name. I sat quietly until the lab guy asked me to go with him to the back room. He said, "You give blood?" and I said "yes." He said, "You have give blood?" and I said "yes." He said, "How long?" and I said "I've given blood about four or five times." He pointed to a number on a chart, and said, "you give this?" I said "sure." Then, we went back to the front room, he told me to sit on a cot, and he got out the needle and bag to take blood. I carefully watched him open the sealed bag, making sure it was sterile. He got out a cotton swab, put alcohol on it, and cleaned my arm. He got out an arm pressure thing (I'm blanking on the right word) that looked like it was from the 50's, tied it around my arm (it didn't have velcro), looked for a vein, and stuck the needle in. Thankfully, I have given blood enough times to know to squeeze my hand and whatnot, but there was no way of telling how fast my blood was flowing or how much had come out already, as the bag was just sitting on the chair next to me.
To take my mind off the needle in my arm, I listened to the American music coming from the back room. "Look at Me Now" came on, so of course I started singing along. The lab guy came back out and laughed at me. In a combination of my poor Samoan and his poor English, I found out a bit more about his life and the baby's sickness. It turns out baby Joplin was anemic, had low hemoglobin and needed a transfusion. The doctor didn't want it to be from a family member for some reason (something about higher likelihood of anemia) so basically they would be giving the baby my blood that day, without testing for STIs or anything. The guy handed me back over to Onivi, and I finally went to meet her family. I met Joplin and his twin, Sam, and their three older siblings, Vitoria, Violeta and Piula. Samisoni's two sisters were there as well and I talked with them for a few minutes. I got back to the hotel just in time for our group discussion and dinner.
Anyway, I'll write another update soon, with topics more fun to read about!
Tofa!
-Leah
This past week has been quite the "Spring Break." On Friday, we all took the ferry over to Savaii, the larger but less populated island of Samoa. We stayed in Tanu Beach Fales for the weekend, ta'ele-ing (swimming), savavali-ing (going for walks), malolo-ing (resting), faitau-ing (reading) and generally enjoying life. There was home-cooked food, a fiafia, upbeat songs and merriment.
Warren, an older gentleman from Australia originally and our professor for the week, took us all around the island Monday through Thursday. We went to lava fields, freshwater springs, swimming holes, waterfalls, the beach, some blowholes, sea cliffs, and even hiked a volcano (my favorite part of this particular hike was that a man with a machete had to lead the group through the jungle)to learn about the geography and geology of the island.
The most I learned about Samoa this past week, however, was not about the olivine brought to the surface by an ancient eruption of an inland volcano, but about Savaii's hospital, where I spent Tuesday afternoon. On our drive back to the Safua Hotel from learning how to make tapa, we stopped for ice cream, where Warren's helper, Samisoni, got out to phone his wife. When he came back to the car, Samisoni informed Warren that he would like to stop at the hospital where his nine-month-old son Joplin was being treated. He came back to the car and said that Joplin needed a blood transfusion and neither he nor his wife could give blood. I, of course, asked what the baby's blood type was and he said "A," uncertain whether it was positive or negative. I told him that I was A positive and that if it turned out I was a match, to come back to the hotel and get me.
After I had showered and was settling into the adventures of Frodo (I'm reading Lord of the Rings), a knock came upon the door. Samisoni, who does not speak much English just said, "You go to hospital?" I said yes, grabbed a water bottle and hopped in the van. We arrived at the hospital and for the next half hour, I mostly just followed people around when they said, "come!" and tried to understand the rapid Samoan conversations going on around me. I had no idea what was wrong with the baby or even where he was. The restroom in the hospital had no toilet paper, soap, or paper towels and all the signs were in Samoan. I finally entered a room and was told to sit in a chair as a man in a lab coat pricked my thumb, took some of my blood and went into a back room cluttered with lab equpiment and papers. He emerged after a few minutes, said something to Samisoni, who went to get his wife, Onivi, and then we stood and smiled at each other, for neither of us had much to say or were able to say much the other would understand. Onivi, Samisoni, and the lab guy spoke in Samoan for about ten minutes, every so often looking at me, pointing at me, or saying my name. I sat quietly until the lab guy asked me to go with him to the back room. He said, "You give blood?" and I said "yes." He said, "You have give blood?" and I said "yes." He said, "How long?" and I said "I've given blood about four or five times." He pointed to a number on a chart, and said, "you give this?" I said "sure." Then, we went back to the front room, he told me to sit on a cot, and he got out the needle and bag to take blood. I carefully watched him open the sealed bag, making sure it was sterile. He got out a cotton swab, put alcohol on it, and cleaned my arm. He got out an arm pressure thing (I'm blanking on the right word) that looked like it was from the 50's, tied it around my arm (it didn't have velcro), looked for a vein, and stuck the needle in. Thankfully, I have given blood enough times to know to squeeze my hand and whatnot, but there was no way of telling how fast my blood was flowing or how much had come out already, as the bag was just sitting on the chair next to me.
To take my mind off the needle in my arm, I listened to the American music coming from the back room. "Look at Me Now" came on, so of course I started singing along. The lab guy came back out and laughed at me. In a combination of my poor Samoan and his poor English, I found out a bit more about his life and the baby's sickness. It turns out baby Joplin was anemic, had low hemoglobin and needed a transfusion. The doctor didn't want it to be from a family member for some reason (something about higher likelihood of anemia) so basically they would be giving the baby my blood that day, without testing for STIs or anything. The guy handed me back over to Onivi, and I finally went to meet her family. I met Joplin and his twin, Sam, and their three older siblings, Vitoria, Violeta and Piula. Samisoni's two sisters were there as well and I talked with them for a few minutes. I got back to the hotel just in time for our group discussion and dinner.
Anyway, I'll write another update soon, with topics more fun to read about!
Tofa!
-Leah
Monday, March 5, 2012
We are family! All my Lotofagans and me!
Malo uō ma 'āiga! (Hi friends and family!)
I just got back from my first home stay in a small village called Lotofaga. My Samoan family was amazing! My mother, Siupu, and father, Fa'amotu (who has a Samoan matai title), were both kind, welcoming and very friendly. Siupu spoke much more English than Fa'amotu (who barely spoke any at all) and with my limited Samoan and her limited English, we were able to communicate just fine, although it was difficult to have any kind of in-depth converstaion. Trying to explain the pictures of me snowboarding and logrolling didn't go too well, either. I don't think they even knew that "kiona" is Samoan for "snow" and the only thing she got out of the picture of me logrolling against Alex was that she thought I was showing her a picture of my boyfriend (it was worth a try; most Americans don't even get it). I didn't know how to say "teammate" so I just said "leai" ("no") and moved on to the picture of my family, but explaining whitewater rafting was pretty hard, too.
I had three brothers, all younger. I thought Sam (Samuelo), the eldest was a few years older than me, but it turns out he is actually a month younger! He and my father both had the traditional Samoan tattoos and my father, who (like the rest of the village) was obsessed with my camera, made me take a picture of Sam's tat, so when I have the capability to do so, I will post some pictures. Sam was also the one who ran the kava to all the matai chiefs and to each of the SIT kids (the visitors) in our welcoming kava ceremony, and Jackie (the AD) thinks he's very cute.
My brother Angelo (Telo), who is thirteen and in eighth grade, was absolutely hilarious. He didn't speak very much English either, so we basically just communicated by me dancing when he sang and copying him when he broke into the traditional Samoan slap dance, which was every time we went for a savalivali (walk) and whenever we were just sitting in the fale drinking tea. He was a very "cheeky boy," the entire villages favorite and most-used phrase. He helped me with my Samoan language homework and LOVED my Samoan-English dictionary, which I will leave with him when we go back to Lotofaga in May.
Fa'amati (Mati or Maki), my youngest brother at age two or maybe three (they couldn't tell me how old he was and kept changing their answers), was probably the most adorable child in the entire village. I kept forgetting how little he was, however, because his parents didn't even look twice when he dragged machetes across the field and if he wasn't around for a while and had no idea where he could be, they just kind of waited 'til he showed up. He had a contagious laugh and loved to beat up the kittens and puppies, which was disturbing only to me, apparently. Siupu gave me a strange look when I took the kitten out of the sheet in which Maki had wrapped it and was punching it as hard as he could.
Certain instances like this made the differences in American and Samoan culture very clear. The violence, or "physicality" as my academic director urges us to call it, of the Samoan children was something I simply could not get used to. Not only do parents often hit their children, but the children hit each other, the dogs, and the cats and their parents never stop them. I felt very uncomfortable, for example, when my mother told me to "go beat Fa'amati" because he had fallen asleep on my bed. Another time when I was reading, Maki came over and started drawing on my shoe with a pen and standing on my book so I couldn't flip the page. Angelo asked my why I wasn't annoyed and why I didn't just slap him. It simply didn't bother me enough to resort to violence (although I doubt anything could get me annoyed enough to actually slap a child).
Another slightly uncomfortable part of Samoan culture is the fa'aaloalo (hospitality) that is so strictly practiced. For the first few days, I had to eat alone with a chaperone. They served me about five times as much as anyone else, and the children eat the leftovers from everyone else's meal. Basically, what I didn't eat was what the family ate, and I never knew how much they had so it was hard to judge when I'd eaten my share. However, even if I ate until I was stuffed, my mother gave me a disappointed look when I said "Ma'ona" (I'm full), because I never ate enough to satisfy her. She thought I was too skinny and made this very clear at every meal. I'm sure it won't be long until I'm a good size in her eyes, though, because the Samoans have definitely mastered the art of creating meals with the most calories, carbs and sodium possible, while steering clear of all nutrients and vitamins (with the exception of the occasional taro leaf or kapisi (cabbage, but not really). I also was the only one in the family to sleep on a mattress pad instead of a sleeping mat and I had my own mosquito net. We all slept in the fale palagi, except for Sam who slept in the fale Samoa. I guess he just likes the outdoors more than the rest of the fam.
Other than these few little culture shock situations, my stay in Lotofaga was pretty great, and by day three I was eating with the family as much as was appropriate (just with the parents) and doing some household chores (picking up the leaves in the yard, folding the laundry, etc). The village is right on the beach and one of the best days was when Andrew, Perrin and I took all of our Samoan brothers and sisters to the ocean and played in the waves. I forget how fun it is to have seven children climbing you like a jungle gym and laughing laughing laughing. We sang Samoan songs, drank a few coconuts and had an awesome afternoon. The kids love to just walk around the village and basically all people do is household chores and wander along the road. Savalivali are the thing to do, and if you're lucky, you can savalivali to the store and get an ice cream. My family was also big on sitting in the fale Samoa and just being. We would sit for an hour or so without saying one word to one another, maybe watching the dogs play, or the horses eat the grass, or the chickens jumping through the bushes, but mostly we would just sit. Sometimes someone would say "'E vevela," ("it's hot") or offer me some tea. (The funny thing about that though, is that if anyone offered me anything, it was Angelo who had to go do it. I wasn't even allowed to fill my own water bottle most of the time and Angelo did everything).
Highlights of class time included visiting a plantation, helping build an umu (a outdoor oven) to make a full traditional meal (including catching and killing a pig, beating an octupus to make it tender, making coconut cream by husking, scraping and squeezing the meat, making kokosamoa by roasting cocoa beans and mashing them, making palusami by bundling taro leaves and coconut cream, and pounding the breadfruit for dessert), learning how to weave both plates and fine mats, and my personal favorite, getting to teach an elementary school class! My friend Lindsay and I got the first-graders and we taught them a few songs in English and Samoan (including the banana song: "Fa'i tu'ufa'atasi! Fofoe fa'i, fofoe fa'i! U fa'i, u fa'i! Lamulamu fa'i, lamulamu fa'i! Folo fa'i, folo fa'i! Toto a'ava fa'i, toto a'ava fa'i! Sola fa'i, sola fa'i!" or "Bananas unite! Peel bananas, peel bananas! Bite bananas, bite bananas! Chew bananas, chew bananas! Swallow bananas, swallow bananas! Burp bananas, burp bananas! Go bananas, go bananas!" The "go bananas didn't translate quite right so instead it says "run away bananas!") I have Camp Harmony to thank, however, for not only that gem of watching 20 Samoan 5-year-olds yelling about bananas and jumping around the classroom, but also for providing us for with another skit for the fiafia.
The fiafia is basically a structured party where the two groups involved (in our case, us and our mothers) take turns performing dances, skits, talents, and songs for each other, broken up by "siva palagi" or just a dance party to one song and a kind of presentation thing where each student danced with her host mother for the group. I lead the group in the Fa'i song and in Princess Pat. We also performed a few traditional Samoan siva (dances). Our mothers made each of us puletasi for the event, the formal dress for Samoan women, and we had an amazing feast and great entertainment all night.
I definitely didn't cover everything, but this post is long enough and I'm very tired (and have so much homework this week!). I'll try to post again before leaving for Savaii at the end of the week.
Tofa soifua! Manuia le po! (goodbye and good wishes! good night!)
Alofa tele! (Lots of love!)
Leah
I just got back from my first home stay in a small village called Lotofaga. My Samoan family was amazing! My mother, Siupu, and father, Fa'amotu (who has a Samoan matai title), were both kind, welcoming and very friendly. Siupu spoke much more English than Fa'amotu (who barely spoke any at all) and with my limited Samoan and her limited English, we were able to communicate just fine, although it was difficult to have any kind of in-depth converstaion. Trying to explain the pictures of me snowboarding and logrolling didn't go too well, either. I don't think they even knew that "kiona" is Samoan for "snow" and the only thing she got out of the picture of me logrolling against Alex was that she thought I was showing her a picture of my boyfriend (it was worth a try; most Americans don't even get it). I didn't know how to say "teammate" so I just said "leai" ("no") and moved on to the picture of my family, but explaining whitewater rafting was pretty hard, too.
I had three brothers, all younger. I thought Sam (Samuelo), the eldest was a few years older than me, but it turns out he is actually a month younger! He and my father both had the traditional Samoan tattoos and my father, who (like the rest of the village) was obsessed with my camera, made me take a picture of Sam's tat, so when I have the capability to do so, I will post some pictures. Sam was also the one who ran the kava to all the matai chiefs and to each of the SIT kids (the visitors) in our welcoming kava ceremony, and Jackie (the AD) thinks he's very cute.
My brother Angelo (Telo), who is thirteen and in eighth grade, was absolutely hilarious. He didn't speak very much English either, so we basically just communicated by me dancing when he sang and copying him when he broke into the traditional Samoan slap dance, which was every time we went for a savalivali (walk) and whenever we were just sitting in the fale drinking tea. He was a very "cheeky boy," the entire villages favorite and most-used phrase. He helped me with my Samoan language homework and LOVED my Samoan-English dictionary, which I will leave with him when we go back to Lotofaga in May.
Fa'amati (Mati or Maki), my youngest brother at age two or maybe three (they couldn't tell me how old he was and kept changing their answers), was probably the most adorable child in the entire village. I kept forgetting how little he was, however, because his parents didn't even look twice when he dragged machetes across the field and if he wasn't around for a while and had no idea where he could be, they just kind of waited 'til he showed up. He had a contagious laugh and loved to beat up the kittens and puppies, which was disturbing only to me, apparently. Siupu gave me a strange look when I took the kitten out of the sheet in which Maki had wrapped it and was punching it as hard as he could.
Certain instances like this made the differences in American and Samoan culture very clear. The violence, or "physicality" as my academic director urges us to call it, of the Samoan children was something I simply could not get used to. Not only do parents often hit their children, but the children hit each other, the dogs, and the cats and their parents never stop them. I felt very uncomfortable, for example, when my mother told me to "go beat Fa'amati" because he had fallen asleep on my bed. Another time when I was reading, Maki came over and started drawing on my shoe with a pen and standing on my book so I couldn't flip the page. Angelo asked my why I wasn't annoyed and why I didn't just slap him. It simply didn't bother me enough to resort to violence (although I doubt anything could get me annoyed enough to actually slap a child).
Another slightly uncomfortable part of Samoan culture is the fa'aaloalo (hospitality) that is so strictly practiced. For the first few days, I had to eat alone with a chaperone. They served me about five times as much as anyone else, and the children eat the leftovers from everyone else's meal. Basically, what I didn't eat was what the family ate, and I never knew how much they had so it was hard to judge when I'd eaten my share. However, even if I ate until I was stuffed, my mother gave me a disappointed look when I said "Ma'ona" (I'm full), because I never ate enough to satisfy her. She thought I was too skinny and made this very clear at every meal. I'm sure it won't be long until I'm a good size in her eyes, though, because the Samoans have definitely mastered the art of creating meals with the most calories, carbs and sodium possible, while steering clear of all nutrients and vitamins (with the exception of the occasional taro leaf or kapisi (cabbage, but not really). I also was the only one in the family to sleep on a mattress pad instead of a sleeping mat and I had my own mosquito net. We all slept in the fale palagi, except for Sam who slept in the fale Samoa. I guess he just likes the outdoors more than the rest of the fam.
Other than these few little culture shock situations, my stay in Lotofaga was pretty great, and by day three I was eating with the family as much as was appropriate (just with the parents) and doing some household chores (picking up the leaves in the yard, folding the laundry, etc). The village is right on the beach and one of the best days was when Andrew, Perrin and I took all of our Samoan brothers and sisters to the ocean and played in the waves. I forget how fun it is to have seven children climbing you like a jungle gym and laughing laughing laughing. We sang Samoan songs, drank a few coconuts and had an awesome afternoon. The kids love to just walk around the village and basically all people do is household chores and wander along the road. Savalivali are the thing to do, and if you're lucky, you can savalivali to the store and get an ice cream. My family was also big on sitting in the fale Samoa and just being. We would sit for an hour or so without saying one word to one another, maybe watching the dogs play, or the horses eat the grass, or the chickens jumping through the bushes, but mostly we would just sit. Sometimes someone would say "'E vevela," ("it's hot") or offer me some tea. (The funny thing about that though, is that if anyone offered me anything, it was Angelo who had to go do it. I wasn't even allowed to fill my own water bottle most of the time and Angelo did everything).
Highlights of class time included visiting a plantation, helping build an umu (a outdoor oven) to make a full traditional meal (including catching and killing a pig, beating an octupus to make it tender, making coconut cream by husking, scraping and squeezing the meat, making kokosamoa by roasting cocoa beans and mashing them, making palusami by bundling taro leaves and coconut cream, and pounding the breadfruit for dessert), learning how to weave both plates and fine mats, and my personal favorite, getting to teach an elementary school class! My friend Lindsay and I got the first-graders and we taught them a few songs in English and Samoan (including the banana song: "Fa'i tu'ufa'atasi! Fofoe fa'i, fofoe fa'i! U fa'i, u fa'i! Lamulamu fa'i, lamulamu fa'i! Folo fa'i, folo fa'i! Toto a'ava fa'i, toto a'ava fa'i! Sola fa'i, sola fa'i!" or "Bananas unite! Peel bananas, peel bananas! Bite bananas, bite bananas! Chew bananas, chew bananas! Swallow bananas, swallow bananas! Burp bananas, burp bananas! Go bananas, go bananas!" The "go bananas didn't translate quite right so instead it says "run away bananas!") I have Camp Harmony to thank, however, for not only that gem of watching 20 Samoan 5-year-olds yelling about bananas and jumping around the classroom, but also for providing us for with another skit for the fiafia.
The fiafia is basically a structured party where the two groups involved (in our case, us and our mothers) take turns performing dances, skits, talents, and songs for each other, broken up by "siva palagi" or just a dance party to one song and a kind of presentation thing where each student danced with her host mother for the group. I lead the group in the Fa'i song and in Princess Pat. We also performed a few traditional Samoan siva (dances). Our mothers made each of us puletasi for the event, the formal dress for Samoan women, and we had an amazing feast and great entertainment all night.
I definitely didn't cover everything, but this post is long enough and I'm very tired (and have so much homework this week!). I'll try to post again before leaving for Savaii at the end of the week.
Tofa soifua! Manuia le po! (goodbye and good wishes! good night!)
Alofa tele! (Lots of love!)
Leah
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