ANZSACs

Between 1914 and 1916 Samoan’s enlisted in Australia and New Zealand and were sent to fight at Gallipoli, in France and Belgium on the Western Front, and later in North Africa and Palestine.

“Soifua manuia Loius,

E na’o nai laina itiiti ia e fa’ailoa atu ai i le nofo tapua’i i ‘āiga, ua ou te’a ese mai ma puapuaga i o’u manu’a, ua fa’asolosolo manuia e pei ona fa’anōnōmanū i ai. O lo’u manu’a i le pulufana i lo’u tuāua ae na ati mai i lo’u taliga taumatau ma na āfāina ai lo’u ‘auvae. Masalo o le a ou nofo ai pea i Egelani mo le 3 i le 4 masina ona fa’ato’ā toe auina atu ai lea o a’u i Farani. O loo lelei pea le va’aiga o a’u i le nofoaga o loo o’u i ai nei, e lelei lava nai tamaitai tausima’i. O uso iā James ma Bob o loo iai pea i lā’ua i Egelani ma o loo sōlōga lelei foi i lā’ua.Si o’u uso pele ea ua tatau loa ona fa’a’uma lenei tusi i ‘ou alofa’aga mo outou uma i lo tatou ‘āiga, iā Bella ma tamaiti ma e lē fa’agaloina pea oe le pele.

Fa’asoifuaina. Tatalo mai mo i mātou.
O Viliamu”

“Dear Louis,

Just a few lines to let you know at home that I am out of danger and as well as can be expected, my wound consisting of a bullet through the back of my neck and coming out by my right ear; the result is that my jaw is affected. Probably I’ll be in England for 3 or 4 months before they send me to France again. I am well looked after where I am, the nurses are very nice. Brothers James and Bob are both in England and getting along very well. Well dear brother, I must now conclude with my best alofa to all at home, Bella and children and not forgetting your dear self. Good bye. Pray for us.

Your loving brother
William” - William Frederick Stowers, September 1917.

William Frederick Stowers was Apa’s father...my great grandfather, and one of the many Samoan’s and several Stowers to take part in the “Great War”.

Below is an extract from Samoa Times Newspaper 15 June, 1918

- “A taumafataga feast fa’a-Samoa, given by the relatives of Pvt. William Stowers took place at Leauva’a last Saturday in celebration of his return to Samoa. Pvt Stowers left for the Front with the 18th Reinforcements and having been wounded in the Somme Battle, was returned to New Zealand and is now home to be with his family. At the conclusion of the repast, Judge Roberts gave a short address with a complimentary reference to the Stowers family, mentioning the fact that no fewer than three sons of Mr J. Stowers have seen service at the front.”

William’s mentioned brothers were Privates Robert and James Stowers. They were despatched from New Zealand as members of the 4th Maori Contingent, NZ Maori Pioneer Battalion. It is noted that although some of the Maori contingent were conscripted…“The men who came from the Pacific Islands to serve with the New Zealand forces were all volunteers.” Robert and James embarked together from Wellington to Egypt…

The records of all 3 brothers trace their movements (and are available from the National Archive).

William was shot in the face at the Somme, in France and discharged from active duty on his return to New Zealand- having served most of 3 years in the artillery service (J Company) of the NZEF.

James’ record indicates he was overseas for more than 3 years- after arriving in France he was later attached field hospital and ambulance units to the battlefields.

Robert’s record shows that after a period in France, he served in the Sinai and Palestine- posted for a period to the “Rarotongan company”, battling the Turks in defence of the Suez, where he was injured.

All 3 brothers survived the war and their names are etched on the Clock tower in Apia in remembrance of their service.

I'll post photos at April Showers on Facebook.

You can see photos, and find links to the Stowers war records here…and you can also lay a poppy…
http://www.aucklandmuseum.com/war-memorial/online-cenotaph/record/C71811

I’ve previously mentioned the NZ Expeditionary Force which in 1914 was sent from NZ to secure Samoa (then under German administration) on behalf of the British Government at the outbreak of war. Among that force was one Private Henry Lloyd Halliday, previously of Her Majesty’s Customs. After 139 Days- he was discharged at the beginning of 1915. He would later go on to marry Teuila Gurr, and be father to Pamela Lois “Nana” Stowers. (For a short period was also Treasurer of Samoa).
http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-WH1-Samo-t1-back-d24.html

Anzac Day cannot go past without thinking about my grandfather, Allen Rouse, 2nd NZEF, who died 1st Dec 1975. It was before I was born- but later, when my brother and I were little, we would stay at Gran's and if we had money, we would go to the magazine store, across Silverdale Road, to buy commando comics. What we didn't know then, was the 2nd NZEF fought everywhere that we read about in those war comics, defining the outcome of the 2nd World War...Greece, Crete, the battle of El Alamein, Tunisia and Italy. And ultimately the battles of Monte Casino. I don't know how much of this Grandad saw- but I do know that it altered his life significantly, and that it wasn't a comic book experience of heroics and glory...but something which is literally indescribable to those not present. That he returned, and that we are here is testament to him, and the resilience of men in conditions which should never have been repeated- and yet which have been. 

Reference sites…

http://ww100.govt.nz/telling-the-story-of-the-1914-occupation-of-german-s%C4%81moa
http://samoaww1.webs.com/
http://laniwendtyoung.me/category/ww1-and-samoa-soldiers/
http://vanrossenhistory.wikispaces.com/Maori+and+WW1?responseToken=064af9da8f590c136dbf49aa5db0578d8

Thillineth

"Thsufferin Thuccotash!"- Sylvester the Cat.

(You need to read thith with a lithp…tongue between teeth, pleathe…)

There’th a thcar upon my lip, and it cautheth me to thlip, tho that thometimeth- I jutht thpit when I try to thay an “eth”...

…it’th a thticky, tricky issue, and I’m  running out of tishueth, wiping thpittle ath it drencheth, kitchen tableth, wiping bencheth, washing windowth, thpraying wencheth -

...oh, it’th a nightmare on a date, when I get into a thtate and form a puddle on my plate, jutht to thay "you look thenthational"- ith quite demotivational- your dreth, your thkirt, your blouthe, your shirt- thimply everything you wear, from your thcrunchy to your thox, and your shiny, thilken lockth driveth my heart into a rathe, and thaliva from my fathe, til I find mythelf dithgrathed and if I do not thettle down, I'm afraid of who might drown, ath I thplutter bout your gown like thome thycophantic clown…

…there’th a therapitht I thee, who thaid to thome degree that “it really could be worthe”, which I think ith jutht perverthe- I’m not convinthed he really careth (he’th put plathtic on hith chairth) and ath he plumbth thubconsciouth fearth of my teen and childhood yearth, (in a raincoat which he wearth) theeking preshureth from my peerth - I shower him with thtorieth, cheekth foaming, reminithcing, thpitting out about what’th miththing, thome thort of thorry thnakely hithing, like a tap without a washer, dripping in a bathroom think, and it cautheth me to think, that I’d really like a drink... but I thtutter on folorn, like a thprinkler on the lawn, while he pretendth to care, thtaring dumbly at the air, shining dropletth in hith hair…

…until I thtand to leave, with my heart up my thleeve and a little thpittle too, and a bit upon my shoe, he thinkth “thank goodneth I’m not you”, rubbing thalt into the wound with a bill that’th thimply thtunning, it’th exthtortion that he’th running- but I’m exhauthted tho, I jutht pay the man and go…

… now you’ve heard my thtory, and I really wouldn’t worry, there’th no reathon to be thorry, no hugth, no “there, there, honey”, no donationth, (pleathe no money)…cauthe it’th really very funny…

when the world comes in...

"It's a very, very mad world, mad world" - Tears for Fears

I know what you're thinking...Samoa- paradise, sun, surf, friendly people...a world away from the madness of crime and deviancy which the nightly news in the western world brings...
Below are edited excerpts from today's paper...just 1 day...

A 19 year-old man who pleaded guilty to a dozen counts of sexual intercourse with a young girl, has been sent to prison for two and a half years. The victim was 12 years old at the time of the offending
...30 months for repeatedly raping a 12 year old

A former teacher accused of having sexual intercourse with a school girl has been jailed for three months…“If you do not comply with what I want, I will surely get mad at you,” the defendant told the victim.
...3 months for raping a 16 year old schoolgirl- and threatening her in ye olde English

Chong Nee pleaded guilty of two counts of burglary, two of theft and two counts of escaping from prison. His Honour ordered that he be convicted and serve 15 months... His Honour warned the defendant that should he reconsider committing such offences again, next time if he breaks into another property someone could possibly shoot at him
...15 months and able to be shot at- for burglary and having a name that sounds like a sporting injury

A mother of four has been jailed for four years and eight months for stealing more than $200,000 from her employer…after the General Manager had signed the cheque and it was returned to the accused, the accused would use a “white out” to delete the name of the agency to whom the cheque was made out and write the word “cash” over the ‘white out’
...4 years for 109 separate counts of "cunning use of liquid paper"

...and 3 machete attacks in a week on Savaii
A young girl and her mother screamed for help while her grandfather was being savagely attacked by an angry villager using a machete…the incident at Falealupo was one of three incidents involving the use of the machete in Savai’i last week...

...oh and teenagers- well they're pretty much the same
The 14-year-old went back to their home and started playing with his mother’s mobile phone. His mother told him off...the 14-year-old from the village of Sauano Fagaloa has become the latest victim of suicide in Samoa.

Masina Lima

“However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results.” - Winston Churchill
“You get a sore neck looking back” – Old Samoan saying (probably)

This week marks 5 months (lima masina) since I arrived in Samoa. Not quite half way through my 12 month assignment period.

Next door to my office- there’s a massive church which has emerged from the earth since I arrived- one more for the great Apia Cathedral Competition…i.e. “which denomination can squander the largest fortune on the gaudiest landmark in which their parishioners can pray (to an omini-present universal being in no need of shelter) for immediate earthly financial assistance?”

The structure is immense- built by a Chinese contractor, with Samoan labour and more quickly than I could imagine it being done in NZ. Sure there were some exciting moments around the scaffold and roofing- with limited provision for safety…like watching a two meter square aluminium panel drop about 3 stories to hit a worker on a window sill, miraculously not cutting him in half. 

However, the fact remains that they have built it, pretty well, and in a very short period. I have watched it take shape- while by contrast, my assignment has progressed very slowly indeed…

So perhaps, not quite halfway, is a good time for me to review; re-phrase; re-adjust my priorities.

I have learned that I have a family who will travel 3000km to see me- and who still consider it reasonable to bring gifts and buy me dinner, drinks and more…their company has both offered a welcome distraction, and strengthened my resolve to accomplish something with this opportunity.

I have also found another family in Samoa, for whom barely knowing me has been no inhibitor to treating me as though I’ve been around the corner all my life...including me in family outings, Christmas dinner and Vailima sunsets like a long lost cousin.

My grasp of Samoan language hasn’t developed quickly at all, as according to the popular “immersion” theory…with Samoans more inclined to speak English for ease of conversation with me…and language study a lesser priority to entertainment or exercise. Splashing about in the kiddies pool is a better comparison than “immersion” for my “talanoa Samoa” – although when occasionally led out of my depth, it’s a bit like snorkling with Dad- choking, struggling and ultimately exhausting but not so much that you don’t desire a beer afterwards. I now understand the feeling of a foreigner communicating not just in “broken” English- but rather in completely irreparable syntax.

I walk a lot…a total of something like 1000km since I arrived…which I have found consumes both time and energy otherwise in frustrating abundance, and allows me the pleasure of meeting more people and seeing more things than I could by any other means.

They say if you want to accomplish something- you need to set some goals (in fact I say it too- I’ve just written 4 pages of this fluff into a new customer service training course…)

I’ll keep it brief and spare you the details…here are my priorities from now on:

1. Write, develop, deliver, discuss whatever assistance I can- to whomever displays an interest- within or without my “partner organisation”. 
2. Refuse no fair invitation- be it dinner, drinks, sporting event or animal de-sexing surgery… 
3. Struggle with the language of my forebears (many of whom may not have spoken it)… just because I feel like a wrestle occasionally… 
4. Persevere. Not in a matyr-ish, hard luck, sad-sack boring way- but in an open minded, un-expectant, “thank you life for this opportunity” kind of way. 
5. Get home healthy & happy and repay my family for this opportunity 

Photos of the Church at Facebook...

Less is Moa…

“The difference between involvement and commitment is like ham and eggs. The chicken is involved; the pig is committed.” - Matina Navratilova

The “great Apia moa shortage” of early 2015 was something that may be difficult to understand to an outsider (or to an outsider temporarily inside- and in fact to many insiders…)

To delve (just a little) into history- according to Samoan oral history, moa (chickens) were a part of the feathery baggage upon the settling canoes of the great Polynesian navigators who came to Samoa around 1500 BC.

According to more modern history- it’s apparent that by 1000 AD, moa had found a place in the homes, lives and umus of Samoa, which was domestically (in a loose sense of the word) unique…to moa and pua’a (pigs). The other staples of the samoan diet were either plant or wildlife like the fish and native birds…

speaking of which- I was out walking the other day…I saw two guys pull up in a ute on a bush track…they get out brandishing modern shotguns…
”Malo”…
”Malo”…
“Are you after Pe’a or Lupe?”
{threatened species of native fruitbat, or endangered native pigeon}
”Both”
…oh…

...so there was some hunting in the past- and it continues…anyway, back to the moa.
Over a millennium, the moa- became the Samoan Jungle Fowl, a recognised “native” bird- which roams the bush and village alike. With all the colour and flair of pure bred bantams, they cockstrut the streets feeding on scraps & insects- free range, and thoroughly organic in production- examples of everything the modern western chicken and egg connoisseur might aspire to consume…

But an interesting thing has happened…as the Samoan public’s taste for the moa developed along with their island state; so has the volume of consumption- to the point that chicken outsells both beef and pork and is considerably cheaper pound for pound. But the humble island moa, proud and colourful though he may be, can’t compete with the cage bred, corn stuffed, hormone laden, fat wrapped, circus-freak birds produced in the matrix-like sci-fi facilities of the good ‘ol US of A.

Put simply- cheaper, fatter chicken (anecdotally- they don't even pass FDA standards...) isimported by the container load and sold to a waiting Samoan public...already dealing with a host of economic and health issues.

There are moa in the villages, but you can buy a kilo of formerly frozen "colonels best" chicken cuts for under $3…
...or at least you could- until a peak in Christmas demand meant a shipment was missed in February 2015, and a state of emergency was declared (almost) by the chicken loving Samoan public as to what the heck were they supposed to deep fry, put in the sapasui or siau mein, or simply bbq the bejesus out of in lashings of soy, sugar and salt this Sunday… there were a considerable number of moa who went bush for a fortnight.

And don’t get me started on ordering a ham and cheese toasted sandwich or bacon and eggs - which invariably consist of Spam and something…even though I have to concentrate very hard indeed not to hit a pig every time I get in a vehicle…it's like something out of a Monty Python sketch...

"- Man:         Well, what've you got? 

- Waitress:    Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam bacon spam tomato and spam;

...or Lobster Thermidor a Crevette with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam” 

- Monty Python "Spam"

Ain't that a shame...

“Words of sorrow and words of spite,
Ringin' in my head right through the night...
Don't you know it's a cryin shame- when you got yourself to blame.
Don't you know it's a cryin shame- you got yourself to blame.”
Johnny Diesel & the Injectors

Aso Faraile...I'm at the markets, waiting while my guests browse. There's a young guy- late teens or 20's-large and muscular lounging against a steel post, flanked by 2 friends, eyeing passers by in the limited shade between the main market place buildings. A neck tattoo- albeit unintelligible- indicates literacy (in that he asked the tattooist for a word instead of a picture...). To the unfamiliar there might be a threatening air to their non committal loitering mid market...but I make eye contact and am obliged by interest and manners to say hi while I wait for my guests. We chat for a second or two- exchanging poor Samoan for passable English.
“He's not so bad” I think, after an exchange.“It can be easy to misjudge people...”
“So...you wanna buy some drugs?” he asks after a bit.
Ah- you've let yourself down there tiger...that's a shame.

The sun is up early on Aso Sa. I've got a car for the weekend, unusually, and so I drive to town for a walk along the waterfront. The Harbourside is empty- but across the road people bustle in out of Churches, like white ants, hollowing and hallowing. The sun is rising, and it's already approaching 30 degrees- but the light is bright and the waves are lapping onto the low tide sand. The sea wall is made for easy walking and there's a breeze beneath the intermittent shady trees...it's nice. But my eye is drawn from the sea and sky, to avoid stepping into the detritus of Saturday night...bbq remnants- plastic forks, “disposable” polystyrene plates and cups, al-foil wrappers and the broken glass have been almost cleared from the walkways- only to become mortar in the sea wall. I look too closely and discover a “disposable” nappy or three...that's a shame.

The Tourism Centre stands opposite the monstrous Catholic Cathedral midway down Beach Road. A cardinal- in red robe and cuttlefish shaped fascinator emerges gloriously from the building surrounded by a fluttering parish of white and brown... “that's nice” I think. Across the street, where in front of me, a man begins to assault a woman, dragging her across the grass in the mid morning sun, not 20 meters away from the hand of god, and in view of all. It's a minute or so before I intervene- while the congregation watch, or look away. It ends with him letting her walk away...at least until I move on. “It's my wife” said the man repeatedly, in what he appeared to believe was a plausible explanation for handling the woman... that's a shame. 

Sunday afternoon, and I'm still in the need of a walk- a week off  with Dad has left me overloaded on “carbs” and insufficiently exercised. I head to Mt Vaea, to take a walk up the mountain to Robert Louis Stevenson's grave site. The birds sing loudly- protected here from hunting (an edict from the burial of Tusitala on the hilltop a century ago). The track is dry-ish for the first time in several weeks. As I sweat and climb, my heart begins to find it's rhythm-”this is nice” I think... My eyes wander from the trees to the track to maintain my footing- not fast enough to miss the water bottles and lolly wrappers cast aside at numerous points by sweating fat fools who can't sustain the weight of an empty plastic bottle as far as the bins at the top of the hill or in the carpark...that's a shame.

If you're too unfit to carry an empty plastic bottle to a bin- don't bother exercising. Just hurry up and die.
If you don't know how to dispose of a disposable item like a nappy- you're not competent enough to purchase one (let alone to raise a child).
If you're standing in front of a church watching someone commit a domestic assault, and you don't have the ability to intervene- you don't need God, you need the wizard of Oz to give you Courage, a Heart and a Brain.

Rev it up

" Steering with her knees, she's got both hands free
Using cruise control, you know- reaching over she likes to tease
She said let's ride, rev it up, rev it up little boy and ride
She said let's ride, rev it up, rev it up, little boy, and ride
Just use your body, don't you hitch-hike
When you ride with me, little boy, take it any where you like..."
- Jerry Harrison "Rev it up"

Samoans may be the most considerate drivers in the world.

Classical road rules are rejected in favour of a toot, raised eyebrows and importantly- an empathetic observation of the other driver (...but just one other driver- this skill is singular…every driver other than the one being considered with this telepathic emotional ability, is an inconvenience which can and must be ignored.)

You can turn left anytime…anytime. There’s only about 5 sets of traffic lights in the country, but if you feel as though the red light is mistimed, or has failed to fully consider the importance of your journey, or if you’re turning left- go right ahead. 

A series of potholes indicates “pedestrian speed would be too fast here- give way to everything except pedestrians”. Nothing ever indicates giving way to pedestrians. Driveways, pedestrian crossings, and footpaths- are all zones within which pedestrians are both unexpected, and discouraged. They are instead places to park, possible ambush sites, and good spots to stop and converse with cousins or police (sometimes over a beer). 

A taxi doing 10km/h uphill in a 50km speed zone, with a trail of 5-10 vehicles behind him, is as acceptable as overtaking a bus going downhill at 70km on a blind corner- in the same zone. Nothing should inspire anybody ever to toot in anger- a nominal toot generally indicates “I’m about to perform a dangerous and exciting manoeuvre in your vicinity- look away.”

Mood and weather are critical to what has been dubbed the “samoan tele-empathetic intuitive navigational knack”… or simply S.T.I.N.K. driving.

It doesn’t stop when they stop either….parking, especially to offload passengers, should be as close as possible to the building entrance…walking is a cultural taboo. Can I:

…double park?    -Yep;
…in the road?    -no problem;
…block lanes in both directions stopping traffic?    -How fat is the passenger?
…in local terms?    -OK, just do it;
…Leave the road, mount the footpath, and get in-between the school fence and the bus offloading school kids?    -Why not?

The authority of the Police adds a great deal in this environment, and every day at peak times, police can be seen adding imbecilic icing to the chaotic cake, by standing only at intersections where there are existing traffic lights, pedestrian crossings and round-a-bouts…directing traffic in white gloves (sometimes just one glove, covered in rhinestones- often using nothing but late 80's dance moves…OMG…what if the King isn’t dead?)