Baby Tana!

This last weekend I went back to our training village of Vaie'e to visit my host family and to visit the new baby my host-parents had. They chose to name him Tana (my Samoan name). Me with the new bundle of joy.

Garden Party

As part of a secondary project that I am trying to pursue I asked my host-father Afegogo, who is also the village mayor, if I could start a garden. At first he and the rest of my host-family were a little skeptical. They told me that I wouldn’t want to do that because I would get dirty. They tend to have a specific idea on how Westerners are. After reassuring them my host-brother Ma’anima and I went into the jungle, machetes in hand to cut us down some trees to make fence posts. Even at the tender age of 14 Ma’anima can embarrass me with machete wielding technique. When the rest of the family saw us, hands dirtied, they assumed that I was serious and really got into it. The next day I saw Afegogo back on the proposed area chopping down everything he could make posts out of and cutting off branches to let in more light. He told me that we will grow lots of cabbage and other assorted vegetable, we will make it big, and it will be an example for the whole village. So this has got me excited with the possibility of getting other families to start gardens and hopefully getting the school involved with one complemented by nutrition classes. Also, I’m looking forward to eating some vegetables myself.

I thought it would be fun to have a quarterly garden report for the blog with a photo to show progress and set backs. So here is the first one. I know currently it may not yet be a garden party so much as a small gathering of friends but give it time and we’ll see in three months.

Samoan Maliu (Funeral)

I went to my second Samoan wedding last week in the neighboring village of Utulaelae. Actually, I went to the last day of the multi-day affair. On this day the family of the deceased who was an older matai (village chief) began cooking in the early morning hours in preparation of the several hundred meals consumed throughout the day by family, relatives, and fellow villagers on site, as well as, taken by visitors to their own villages to be given out to their families and friends. As part of the customs this day relatives from outside the village come to exchange gifts. This exchange (usually fine mats, boxes of tin fish and corned beef, slaughtered pigs and cattle, cash, or any combination of these that you can imagine) I think is a real hallmark of the Samoan culture. I just now have enough understanding of the language and culture to comprehend the ins and outs of this highly formalized affair. For example, the deceased’s cousin from a village across the island comes with thirty boxes of canned corned beef and five fine mats, usually presented like the picture above. They all sit in a group at the very front of the yard with the orator (a specific kind of high chief) standing in front with his staff and whisk. The orator then presents their gifts to a similar group of the deceased’s family also lead by an orator. This is very formal respectful language that I sometimes don’t understand. The gifts are accepted then the orator (to continue my above example) may give back the equivalent of %120 to 150 of the amount received, such as a cow, pig, six different fine mats, and 200 Samoan tala. Of course this can very widely but just to give an idea. Throughout the day many groups of relatives may come by to show their respects depending on the size of the family and if you do the math this can be a large burden on the family. From what I’ve been told, funerals are a common time for relatives to send financial help from abroad (usually New Zealand, Australia, and the U.S.) and/or make the trip back themselves.

The day I attended there is much more than just an exchange of gifts. The entire day the ‘daughters if the village’ (girls born in the village) sit around the body in an open fale and sing together. Matais of the village come in a formal offering of palms (pictured above). Around a dozen people are cooking food in huge pots and pans constantly. There is really no somber feelings the whole day like I imagine an American funeral. People are laughing and joking around, visiting with friends and above all eating a lot. *Footnote on the last comment, the time I did see solemn faces was when the proceedings are done and the body is moved from the house to the grave in front (pictured below).

Samoans love to talk to me about the differences between the palangi life and the fa’asamoa life. It’s interesting to hear how some people react when I tell them that American funerals last maybe an afternoon and it is a relatively straightforward ordeal. I can tell that some of them are a little envious of the simplicity we have but some just act nonchalant and say “well this is just our culture.” I’m glad that they have kept their old ways even in the light of Western influence and Christianity.