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
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