Madame Hyde

There's a mouse in my house
We just met last week
She cannot deal cards
So we play Hyde and Seek

She ventures out late
When she thinks I'm in bed
And grey gecko giggles
Hide her pitter-pat tread

She's clearly well mannered
Though too quick to trap
She poos in the shower
But she can't reach the tap

The toilets too smooth
To climb to the top
She won't go on the floor
Cause she can't use a mop

She'll nibble on toast crumbs
Or fruit on the bench
But the garlic's untouched
So, I don't think she's French

She doesn't use doorways
Won't come when you call
She's prone to departure
Through a hole in the wall

I don't think that she'll leave
Now, she likes it inside
So I'm left her Sir Seek
And she's my Madame Hyde

old ways and new lapisi

Santy works with me. He likes Beyonce and to dance. Enough said. He's a nice...guy'sh...and sometime ago invited me to his family home in Savaii, to get an experience of fa'asamoa- the samoan way as lived in a village, not in the town. So last weekend we went.

A cruel 5:30 wake up on Saturday, to catch the 8am ferry was an inauspicious start to a relaxing weekend.

At Savaii we stop at the Saleolongo fish markets and split the cost of some provisions for dinner tonight and tomorrows to'ona'i (lunch).

We buy a fe'e (octopus), lua ula (2 lobsters), and umi (a leatherjacket like fish)...and about 20kg of talo (kalo or taro). By the time we spend 80 tala we have enough food to feed 20 people (or 10 Samoans)...

Santy's aiga own a small shop near Afu A'au- a popular waterfall (afu), and tourist attraction. The 2 solid block fale's have a view over the neighbours to the ocean. His fathers crypt captures the view- built into the main house's deck, in the tradition of front yard burials. The home's are shared between 4 of Santy's siblings and his mother and nephew...5 cats, 3 dogs, some big pigs and a handful of chickens.

In the afternoon we swim at the waterfall- as the heavens open and pour buckets of rain. Santy explains that the 4 men sitting in the fale's at the road entrance collect the tourist fees- $5 tala per person. This is shared among the village and used to keep the waterfall clear of rubbish.  The men sit in the fale's all day. Sounds fair, but I become dubious of the rubbish collection roster, as the tyres of our ute crush beer bottle tops into the gravel in the carpark...last time I came here with Leanne, I cleaned up the carpark using a plastic bag- and tied it to a visible tree. This time I find a rocky area nearby waterfall with a collection of litter...and try to ignore it.

We enjoy the swim, and I watch and relax- waiting for the others to finish. One of the dumpling shaped samoan boys we're with, finishes his soft drink, rinses the bottle carefully, and overarm bowls the empty at a boulder in the river. The glass tinkles into the pristine water, and pieces blink at me from the dewy grass bank...the men beside him talk and laugh, undisturbed.
 
Back at the fale, Santy prepares dinner with his family- there's fried fish, fa'ilifu, chicken soup, tinned fish stew and more...fresh coconuts are opened, and grated, and crushed for pe'e pe'e (coconut cream) in an exhausting process.

The hard work is repeated from 5am the following morning, when Santy and his brothers and sisters get up to start preparing the umu (hot-rock “oven”). They make yet more coconut cream from scratch, wrapping fish, making palusami, preparing the umu, peeling taro and breadfruit (ulu), dodging dogs and cats and chickens all the while. The process is intensive- over about 4 hours.

As the fe'e is prepared, I'm interested to watch the octopus gutted and brazed in a pan on the fire...I'm marginally less impressed later when the gut is revived to be squeezed into pe'e pe'e, to create an inky cream sauce for the second cooking phase where the octopus is cupped in banana leaves before being put into the umu to casserole. It tastes amazing- tender and fresh, that afternoon,..just one part of an immense, rich table of lobster, fish, chicken, vegetables, soup and fresh fruit.

Aso Sa is spent between Sunday School (where Santy teaches), Church, to'onai and a moe (sleep). During the day, we discuss the time and effort put into the food- and the long trip from Apia to home, which Santy makes every weekend that he can. “I like the old ways” he says...the collecting of the taro and leaves, the making of the coconut cream, the preparing of the umu with his brothers and sisters. “...and like the exercise”, the physical effort is rewarding...as is the time simply to be with family- to work together or simply to sit, sleep, eat and talk.

Are you talkin' to me?

“All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention.”
Robert De Niro as Travis Bickle in “Taxi Driver”

Taxis roam up and down the cross island road...roosting in the hotter, slower parts of the day at a couple of ranks- small wooden fale's leaning in the shade of big mango trees.

Although  more costly than buses, taxis are a common form of transport and not expensive. Often individually owned, cabs form loose co-ops based around the ranks.

Without meters, fares are bound by a documented set of rates based on concentric circles from the city- ripples radiating from Apia's main market and central bus stop.

You hear the occasional story of a tourist paying more than is fair- but it's rare. More common is a driver negotiating a discounted rate for an individual and regular use.

For me, taxi's serve as relief when vevela le la (the sun is too hot) or if I've snatched an extra half hour of sleep before work. For about $10 tala, I can halve the length my walk in either direction, and get a 10 minute samoan language lesson...the only form of 1:1 language instruction I can afford or find.

Although I might only use a cab a couple of times a week, I share my custom around a little- I walk past several ranks on the way to work and back each day, and get a wave, a word or two and a smile out of each.

I paid a few tala extra for a lift home one evening- it was late, and the cabbie didn't have enough change. It was several days later, that the same cabbie braked on the road while driving past, holding up some fairly heavy traffic, and hung a $5 tala note out the window with a smile “Puy a trink” he laughed...

Another  discussed his small business ideas with me one day- a week later he appeared at the Small Business Centre where I work, to talk to an advisor. A day or two later, he picked me up on his way between ranks and dropped me off 5km up the road, refusing any payment.

Last night, a bus pulled over to pick me up...although I was nearing home- it was hot and I couldn't refuse the gesture as he almost stalled the bus on a steep, curved stretch of the hill. On disembarking, when I tried to hand the driver my $3 tala (equivalent to a dollar fifty) he refused... “I see you all the time walking- you pay when you have money, don't worry”...while I was tempted to explain that I enjoyed the walk- I think it might have been misconstrued, if not rude.

Its nice to think that this generous sharing of transportation is something that's not particular to me, the walkie-talkie palagi... but standard practice for the hundreds of school students and people travelling this road each day. You can get a ride if you need one, money or not.

G.G.I.F (good god- it's Friday...)

“Ladies, have you ever had a man...
go away for business and come back with a tan?”
Things that make you go hmmm- C&C music Factory

“If our Lord wasn't testing us, how would you account for the proliferation, these days of this obscene rock and roll music...?”
The Reverand- Footloose


Ma- is the Samoan word for embarrassed or shy...and after months of trying to convince myself, friends and family that I'm not on holiday, I am rather working quite hard- it's with mild embarrassment that I have to confess the last couple of Friday nights have had some fairly holiday'sh overtones...(I thank my Catholic education for the vague sense of guilt that pursues me whenever I find myself having a good time.)

My cuzzie, aka Messy Flowers, accompanied me to Waitangi Day celebrations at the NZ High Comm last Friday night. Attended by everyone who's anyone on the island- it is the High Commission's premier event of the year- and as ever, they ensured that the Kiwi volunteers here were all included, and even extended to allow us guests like Messy. (By comparrison- Australia Day at the the other high comm became a divisive affair when volunteers were invited, but their partners were not...splitting couples like communities in 'Straya Day tradition. I'll bet 2:1 that someone ended up blind with an aussie flag wrapped cloaklike around their shoulders beligerantly discussing immigration policy using footy metaphors and words of two syllables or less).

Waitangi Day was an exceptionally tasteful affair...with the Samoan PM, the Head of State, a choir, a haka, a bar, some nibbles and everyone dressed to the 9's. We managed not to lower the tone (until after we left, at which time the tone plummeted to a very dingy nightclub for about 30 minutes, followed by Macdonalds...). However, the highlight of the night had to be walking home, when a van pulled up to offer us a lift...and ex All Black, horticulturalist and all-round nice-guy Vaiinga Tuigamala politely delivered us home.


The Samaoa Chamber of Commerce also held their 2014 end of year Christmas function...on Friday the 13th of February. You haven't experienced time confusion, until you've celebrated a xmas celebration, Friday the 13th and Valentines day within a 24 hours – I wondered if I was going to wake up to Easter eggs.

In a room full of Apia's business community and political players (the PM, a couple of cabinet ministers, overseas dignitaries, and more CEO's than a dual subscription to Forbes and CLEO magazines...), it was difficult to distinguish where the charitable funding ended and the commerce began...but it appeared to be somewhere between the raw tuna and the beer towers.

With 6 bottles of wine and a Vailima “Beer Tower” to each table of 8 Samoans, the result looked dangerously like an NRL awards gig. We only had 6 people on our table...the beer tower was refilled once (the equivalent of about 20 stubbies each time)- and on departure, the empty wine bottles were filled with beer and taken home. One guy at our table was deligated sober driver- which left 12L of beer, and 6 bottles of wine and the equivalent of a small chicken and a large tuna in absentia amid just 5 people...

It's uncomfortable to think of charitable funding as you watch that kind of devastaion wrought on a bar and numerous platters. Tickets were sold for the CoC* event- so it wasn't publicly funded- but the stark contrast to the 3rd world (as described by the UN) requirements for Samoa's “other” public is not an enjoyable one to stand amidst. The PM's long, boring and seemingly insincere speech on Samoa's development goals didn't help (a new cruise ship port....um, ok, not my suggested starting point, but I don't have a degree in Social Development...).

The startlingly good band helped- nailing everything from Princes “Purple Rain” to Grease classic duet “You're the one that I want”- with the female lead sung more or less accurately by a dude who looked like Inga, and sounded like Olivia. It's hard to be cynical when they're playing "Footloose"...it gets easier when you wake up the following day.

*CoC= Chamber of Commerce

local news

“She's got a whole lot of reasons, she cant think of a single one that could justify leaving...
Oh, he got nothing, but he thinks he got so many problems, and he got too much time to waste”
Jack Johnson, Bubble Toes.

...if you're waiting for the plogg where I describe what i'm doing workwise...don't bother. It's an office job where there's all the frustrations of work at home, with new and uninteresting bits. If you're not sure if what you do matters- well, it may not... but I'm told you have to do something (don't you?)....anyway it makes for boring reading.

The plogg is not about that- its for stuff that's vaguely interesting, fulfilling or useful (not necessarily to you...) that happened during the week. It takes a moment or two of reflection- but, I'm starting to think that when I do get home to a paying job, instead of saying “how was your day darling” as I limp through the door of an evening...maybe I'll just I'll spend 5 minutes thinking about the colour of that mornings sunrise, and recite that on my way in...(before I check if that half bottle of Sav' is still in the door of the fridge...).

In local news- Messy Flowers has been the second international visitor to Chateau Showers at Smurfy.

The first visitor- my lovely wife- rendered a major change to living arrangements, not just with her loving presence...but by evicting all round heavyweight gecko and late night lover, Les Norton. Les, who'd grown to a size previously unknown in Geckodom, had lost the fear of man...but he felt the fear of woman while Leanne was on guard. I tell you, there's nothing more love inspiring than watching your wife wrestle a gecko almost half her size* through the door before tossing him out into the wild beyond.

As a result...”wrestling the gecko” has also become my favourite new euphamism (you can choose what for...)

“Messy Flowers” in his first tour of duty to the tina-fanua (“motherland”)- has independently taken the road less travelled and with his taulima (tats) flashing in the sunlight, he ventured forth solo into the great unknown of raindrenched fales, sundrenched beaches and vailima drenched locals...Facebook tells me he's enjoyed it.

It's very nice to have visitors...looking forward to Dad next month, Brent in April, and Mum in July...(oh, and going home one day).

Now, about sunrise...it's breaking later at the moment...the pe'a (fruitbats) made their way home, climbing to a cloudy west before 7; the newly minted masina (moon) bright as a coin, reluctantly retiring to a bruise coloured corner of the sky...le la (the sun) yet to breach the pastel peach chiffon of the east...leaving le langi (the sky) a water jar of paint brushes, with blue, pink and black swirling in clouds behind the glass....

Yeah, that bit of the day is always mania (nice).

Judge Gurr

On April 17, 1900 The Deed of Cession, drafted by Secretary of Native Affairs Edwin W. Gurr, was signed by the chiefs of Tutuila, American Samoa…granting the American government control.

27 years later, the same Edwin Gurr- Editor of the Samoa Guardian was one of 3 men deported from Western Samoa by the New Zealand Government.

Judge Edwin Gurr was Nana's grandfather (my great, great grandfather).

Born in 1863 in Westbury Tasmania, I don't know how Edwin Gurr came to be in Samoa- but he must have arrived when quite young. He served as a barrister for the Supreme Court of Samoa at Apia during the 1890s when a tripartite commission of Americans, Germans, and British ruled jointly over a combined Samoa

Gurr shifted to American Samoa, after the tripartite agreement ended and the German's took control of Western Samoa. His marriage to the daughter of a Samoan chief* had put the German administration offside, and so the Gurrs relocated to Pago Pago.

The wedding was a pretty flash affair by reports:
“On December 31, 1890, Edwin William Gurr Married Fanua Seumanutafa at the British consulate in Apia. In attendance were the bride's father, Seumanutafa Moepogai...Robert Louis Stevenson; American historian Henry Brooks Adams (great-grandson of President John Adams, grandson of President John Quincy Adams, and son of Ambassador Charles Francis Adams), 

and American artist John Lafarge.”

Gurr must have returned to Western Samoa with Fanua sometime after NZ took control (as occurred in 1914).

On Dec 21 1927, the NZ Governor-General, signed an order giving Western Samoa's Administrator the power to deport Mau “leaders” Olaf Frederick Nelson, Edwin William Gurr and Alfred Smyth.

The charges against Gurr related to active membership of the Mau* and seeking to deliver the NZ administration in to the “hatred and contempt of it's Samoan subjects.”

The poorly detailed charges were gross exaggerations of Gurr's involvement in a Citizen's Committee to discuss issues of unfair treatment...and his editorial right to question the confrontational governance of the time. The Guardian had printed in both Samoan language and English.

I like to think that it is a part of his editorial legacy- the national newspaper, now the Samoan Observer- remains very vocal in questioning government inadequacies (there are currently daily allegations of high level corruption).

The deportation charges also referred to Gurr's “...wide knowledge of language, customs, mentality, prejudice, party rivalries and history...” as tools of his influence. Apparently, having an understanding of Samoa was tantamount to sedition. (By contrast, in his earlier time in American Samoa, Gurr had been described as having an “understanding Samoan language, as well as fa‘a Samoa and therefore “being useful and familiar with land claims, clearing up ownership problems on the islands”.)

Judge Gurr would live in exile in New Zealand from 1927, until he was allowed to return to Samoa in 1933.

Sadly, he died within just a month of arriving back in Pago Pago at the age of 70.

*The Mau is the movement credited with a campaign of passive resistance under NZ administration, which ultimately led to Samoan Independence in 1962...some 45 years after the foundations were laid. The Mau is simply too big a story for me to tell- but I highly recommend “MAU- Samoa's Struggle for Freedom” by Michael J Field. It's a well written and very accessible read.

*Seumanutafa Moepogai (Gurr’s father-in-law) has been described as a 'Chief' of  Apia ('chief' as a translation is a problematic oversimplification). I'll write more about him one day.

A partial transcript of Gurr’s abysmal deportation trial can be found in “The Truth about Samoa”
http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-NelTrut-t1-body-d1-d42.html

The Deed of Cessation for American Samoa can be seen here…
http://www.asbar.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1950&Itemid=184