After a weeklong stay in a rural village, my knowledge and understanding of Samoan culture has grown significantly. I found myself doing things I never could have imagined – like scraping a coconut on a bench or having someone fan my food while I ate. I was accepted into an enormous family of about seventeen (although new kids were always coming and going). I saw, firsthand, how a Samoan family functions. I didn’t expect to fall in love with these people so quickly, and so deeply. I can truly say that the relationships formed are everlasting.
Going into the homestay, we were given a bit of knowledge about how a Samoan family functions. Knowing that Christianity, family, and land are the core values of this culture, I was expecting something very different from what I found. From day one, I made it my personal challenge to see beyond these prior judgements or even expectations, and attempt to understand what these core values mean and how they are interpreted by the Samoan people.
To me, family has always been characterized as blood relations. This was my first impression of this value. It is what I was expecting. This opinion was tested within the first day of the homestay experience. Family does not necessarily mean blood. For Samoan’s, it’s simply a bond.
I was very fortunate to be taken in by a massive family. There was the grandmother, the mother and the father, and many children. There was also a man named Laou living with us, who was a distant cousin to the father. His wife and child lived under the same roof as well. A young boy named Pai lived with us too. There was a boy named Tile whose parents live in Australia but he was taken in by Ainu and Aiono (the parents). Then there were five sisters. But on top of all of these people, there were children from other families that routinely stayed the night. They did chores just like the rest of the blood family. They were treated no differently than anyone else. I thought this blend of peoples to be beautiful. But the value of family stretched beyond the walls and ceilings of that blue little home.
Every morning Laou brought loaves of bread and tea to a school down the road. With only one family member working, and what felt like hundreds of mouths to feed, this family still found the means to support others outside of themselves. But I think that is the point of this Samoan value/word “family.” There is none outside of themselves. They are all one. That is why, when I speak of this family, I feel able to use the word “us.” I feel as though, through my seven days, that I too was accepted into this family of diverse and welcoming beings.
So what exactly was I accepted into? How did this family function? Another major value that I mentioned earlier was that of Christianity. Over 95 percent of all Samoan’s identify as Christian. This plays into their daily lives in ways I was definitely not expecting. Sunday is completely devoted to church. We went to Sunday school in the morning, then a church service directly after, and then went to another service in the evening. Everyone wears all white to these events. I felt as though I was walking into colonial times.
Sunday isn’t the only day for devotion, however. Each night there is an evening bell that is rung for the entire village. The village chiefs set the times so each village varies. For us, Fasito’o, the bell would go off around 7:30. When this happened, all the games and activities stopped and people went home. It was family time. Guards came out to make sure that no one was out and about. Cars passing through the village either had to pull over or proceed very slowly. After everyone came back, we would shower and then convene in the largest room. We all sat on the ground, on hand woven mats, and sang songs of devotion. After the praises, the oldest family member (our grandmother) would lead us in prayer. There was also a significant portion of the bible that was read aloud. This whole devotion time took roughly an hour. After it finished, we would eat dinner.
Food was a very interesting aspect of Samoan life. First of all, they love anything fried. Fried chicken, fried eggs, fried potatoes. The only vegetables are some frozen mix that they throw into eggs or taro (which is basically a starchier potato). The traditional Samoan food is palusami (taro leaves cooked with coconut cream), koko alaisa (basically chocolate rice), taro and bananas with coconut cream, and fish that has been mixed with coconut cream and cooked in a coconut shell. Their traditional food is absolutely delicious. So many of their foods use coconut cream, but it isn’t something that is bought at the store. A boy uses a lavalava to climb his way up a coconut tree. He knocks a bunch down, carries them back to the house. He then fashions a spear to break the husk (ipupopo) open. He uses a machete to open the actual coconut. He either drinks or chucks the coconut water. Then a bench, like the one pictured below, is used to scrape the coconut out. Once all of the coconuts have been shaved, they are then hand squeezed with a stringy ball. What comes out of the squeezing is coconut cream. Quite the process. And it was done every single day for at least two of the meals.
Ovens are not very common in Samoa. Instead, they make their own oven through a series of steps. The whole process is called the making of the “umu.” I won’t bore you with the explanation, but the pictures below can give you an idea of what it looks like. It takes, at the very least, three hours. When you have Americans helping out, it’s closer to four or five. Making the umu is generally done on Sunday’s. It’s not something they do every day.
Making food is obviously very involved in Samoa. Despite the enormous amount of time that went into each task, there was still a good amount of downtime. In between meals everyone sleeps. During the main hours of the day, it’s too hot to do anything else. People walk about with umbrellas, if they leave their homes at all, because of the heat from the sun. Around 5 or 6pm the kids cluster to play games. Other than that, not a whole lot goes on. My family kept asking me if I wanted to take a nap. I found myself so restless. I felt like I should be doing something, going somewhere. But there’s something to be said for relaxation – especially when you’ve got to go scrape 17 coconuts to make your next meal.
This week gave me the best and most beautiful insight into the Samoan way of living. There are so many things I wasn’t even able to touch on in this post, like the way the kids fan my food and wait until I eat first, or hand woven mats that take months to create. There are never enough words to express such a new and life changing experience.