Welcome to Smurfy

“It’s a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll…” ACDC

“It’s a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll…” someone else

For those who have been waiting (modesty, what a way to begin…), the press is now rolling in Tiapapata and so begins my Samoan plogg*.

A note before we get too far…I’m learning, slowly, tautala fa’asamoa (to speak Samoan). Accurate translations of Samoan terminology, if desired, can be sought on Coogle*. If I have made an error (fa’amalie atu- my apologies) and if you’d like to correct me- relax, I’m surrounded by Samoans who seem intent on assisting in my lingual development. So I’ll drop in a word or phrase now and then for your interest, and for my benefit- practice makes perfect, eh?

My digs…after 3 nights in the Apia Central Hotel- on Aso Lua (Tuesday) I moved into a 2 bed, 2 bath fale in Tiapapata with the kind of ocean and mountain views that would make Auckland real estate agents fizz at the bung. About 10km from town, pretty well straight up the inland hills of the island, on the main cross island road- Tiapapata is lovely and cool and slightly inconvenient in a relaxed and inoffensive way…I work out for about an hour each morning, and then have a 40 minute, downhill walk to work (my workout by happy coincidence is also a walk and these activities have so far been consecutive). It’s a mania tele savali (a very nice walk)- with lots of people along the way, all very friendly. By the end of next week, I hope to begin riding a bus. They’re cheap, always overloaded and always on time…I’m just not sure what time, and neither apparently are they. They often have printed motos on the windcreens and while I’m happy to take a punt on the bus with “One Way, the right Way- with God”- I’m less keen on “The Widow Maker”.

The weather up here is about 5 degrees cooler than in town- which overnight makes it very comfortable. There are 5 houses all painted blue and surrounded by a fence in our “compound”- a horrible word, which suggests the high fences and locked gates of the diplomatic reserves a little lower down the hill. Our place has a gate- but it’s left open, and the fence is more of a corroding support for a significant creeping floral display. I’ve no any idea of what’s being locked out of (or what’s so valuable inside) the secure compounds occupied by the colonialists down the hill. I refuse to refer to home inside a “compound”. Instead lets call our little village within a village Smurfy.

Dogs are a constant here in Samoa and we have 4- or they have us-  they were here before I was. They’re rather charming in an unkempt, mildly aggressive, possessive, suspicious and noisy kind of way. There must be 30 or so roaming dogs within a couple of hundred yards. Next door to me at Smurfy is a volunteer vet who is here to work on a huge desexing programme. (prior to the UN Small Island Development conference, held here a month ago- about 1000 dogs were also euthanized…) The vets get through an average of 50 dogs, desexed, every day, in villages all over the country. Every night on our hill is filled with the howls, barks and occasionally downright saucy tones of dogs in packs, in fights or in one another.

The Smurfy dogs are Captain Nimo, Costanza, Fritz &… the other one (relax- I’ve only been here a week- I’ve met a hundred people and 4 dogs…forgetting the odd name was inevitable).  Fritz and (the other one) have been named (forgetfully) and adopted by chef/musician/café proprietor/German/dog whisperer/ and all round show off Christoph who lives behind me…he is very nice, and very interesting, and I sometimes fall asleep briefly, listening to his classical/blues/jazz music wafting from his stereo through the night- which the dogs seem to have an inexplicable regard for. It’s hard to describe, but the majority of dogs in Samoa are not owned in a traditional sense- they tend to live on scraps from the village, and they’re slightly built, slightly feral and roundly respected and feared in equal measure (…it’s a bit like coming home to a pack of unfed but affable dentists, bankers and politicians…). So Christoph’s love of Smurfy’s resident dogs is quite endearing, and in return they occupy and protect our shared territory, sleep on my balcony an even allow the occasional pat.

Talofa- and afio mai to Smurfy Tiapapata… Photos at April Showers…

*obviously not a real samoan word….