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

The Talune

“…I have also been troubled by some unfinished business. There are events in our past which have been little known in New Zealand, although they are well known in Samoa.
Those events relate to the inept and incompetent early administration of Samoa by New Zealand.
…In particular we acknowledge with regret the decision taken by the New Zealand authorities in 1918 to allow the ship Talune, carrying passengers with influenza, to dock in Apia... It is judged to be one of the worst epidemics recorded in the world, and was preventable.”
Rt Hon Helen Clark, Prime Minister 3 June 2002.

“Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
George Satayan (except he probably said it in español)


When Helen Clark apologised to the Samoan people in 2002, regarding the influenza epidemic delivered to Samoa on the Talune, she was acknowledging a period of governance in which NZ administrators of Samoa showed deplorable judgement.

It would lead to the rise of the movement known as the “Mau”. But that is another story...this story is about the incident of the Talune- which would establish sentiments later embodied in that movement.

In 1918 , roughly 15 million people lost their lives to “Spanish” influenza as the strain spread across the globe in the wake of World War 1. In a world where global travel wasn't what it is today, it's evident that some deaths were preventable.

In September the USSC Niagara left Canada carrying NZ Prime Minister William Massey and the Minister of Finance...and (by the time it reached NZ) over 100 cases of influenza, and 2 dead. Although the ship had been quarantined in Fiji, Minister of Health (George Russell) allowed the ship to be cleared just 2 hours after docking in Auckland.

The Talune arrived in Auckland 9 days after Niagara. Talune then sailed on to Lyttleton, prior to the return voyage to Apia via Suva.

On board Talune were Mrs George Churchwood* (Ellen Ah Sue) and her children and a serving girl, Ta'u. *Ellen and George were parents to George Churchwood, who married Alma Stowers, my great aunt.

The ship was quarantined in Fiji on return, but landed passengers- introducing the influenza to Fiji. The ship's captain signed a document indicating there was no sickness on board - although several cases were apparent.

Passengers collected in Fiji had been charged double the usual fare (some ₤3) to allow for extra provisions, as it was likely that the ship for would be delayed in quarantine in Samoa.

By the time it made Apia- 3 days later on November 7, there were more cases on board. The Captain, one John Mawson, deliberately avoided quarantine in Samoa- claiming passengers were “seasick” and indicating everything had gone smoothly in Fiji. Passengers however, were surprised to be allowed ashore in Apia, despite obvious illnesses aboard.

Talune left Apia within 24 hours of arriving.

The next stop was Tonga. By the time Talune returned to Suva- there had been 15 deaths aboard.

The medical advisor in Apia, meanwhile had encouraged ill looking passengers upon disembarking, to hurry home.

Ta'u, the Churchwood's serving girl was to become the first of approximately 8500 Samoans to perish with influenza.

Before the epidemic was over, whole families would die in their homes. Entire villages were incapacitated, and corpses remained unburied, with no-one healthy enough to dig the graves. Ultimately, many bodies were either thrown into mass graves or left in their fale’s and their homes burnt.

Status was no defence- when one chief died in Apia,17 men came to collect his body... none returned to their village.

Logan- the NZ Administrator in charge of Samoa- would accomplish little in this time, but did manage to;
- threaten to burn down a boarding school if the sick girls inside would not come to dig graves
- blame Samoans themselves for the high death rate
- refuse an offer of help from the American's at Pago Pago (an inquiry into the event was told that he had then removed and destroyed the received telegram...)
- order wireless communications with the Americans to be cut-off.

New Zealand, pre-occupied with it's own influenza spread, never sent help. The first medical assistance to Samoa was provided by an Australian team.

In NZ, “Spanish” flu killed over 5500 people (less than 1% of the population).
Tonga would lose 10% of it's population as a result of Talune's visitation.
American Samoa by contrast didn't suffer from the pandemic, due to quarantine procedures being followed.

An estimated 8500 Samoans died (official records indicated 7542- but not all deaths were recorded, due to the scope of the epidemic).

22% of the population, 1 in 5 Samoans were killed.

“The introduction of influenza and the burying of the dead in a common grave has entirely changed their feelings, but this, I hope is only temporary and like children, they will get over it”
Col. Robert Logan- NZ administrator to Samoa.

All the single ladies

“I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Got me tighter in my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I can care less what you think”
Beyonce Knowles- "All the single ladies"

Fa’afafine in Samoa, according to sources number between 3000-5000 (of a total population of 190,000) …or 1:20 males.

In the words of someone who spent far to much time looking into the phenomenon, fa’afafine have formed an integral part of the Samoan population since pre Christian influence…”Boys who display marked effeminate behaviour in childhood are recognized to be Fa’afafines and are fully accepted within their families and society.”

But facts have no place here. From my observation, fa’afafine numbers appear to be on the increase. It looks more men are borrowing their sisters blouses and air kissing one another “Talofa”. (This is in addition to far too much floral print, and the cultural practice of everybody wearing dresses, regardless of masculinity.)

Not always easy to spot at a distance- fa’afafine range widely in appearance; from the aggressively feminine, clad in black vinyl several sizes too small, hairspray devouring “Tina Turner”- to the private school educated, caustically intelligent public servants (the “Eddie Izzard”)- to downright dangerously unpredictable street dwellers (somewhere between Jared Leto and Brittney Spears).

There are common features- and I think these indicate a reason for the rise in numbers.
More burley, brown effeminate blokes are looking for an excuse to express themselves… and to openly not just like- but to be able to play loudly, even dance to…Beyonce.

In some sort of bizarre reverse effect of her unbridled black and proud, hip jutting, seam tearing sexuality …I think Beyonce is making more Samoan men act like women.

Or it could be something else. But the weather, for instance, wouldn’t explain why I suddenly have a very soft spot for Taylor Swift…(although I refuse to worry unless her back catalogue starts to appeal).

A recent colonial history of Samoa (abridged version)

Bacon: “What’s that?”

Samoan Joes bartender: “It’s a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.”

Bacon: “No- I asked you to give me a refreshing drink. I wasn’t expecting a rainforest. You could fall in love with an orangutan in that!”

bartender: “You want a pint, go to the pub.”

Bacon: “I thought this was a pub?”

bartender: “It’s a Samoan pub.”

- from Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.



An Englishman, an American and a German walk into a Samoan Pub.

There are at least three Samoans behind the bar and another couple near the door- someone is snoring softly, but it’s difficult to tell who as no-one moves. The service is almost non existent, but it soon becomes clear there’s no beer and the alternatives all smell of coconut…but at least the pool table has been unlocked and it’s free to play.

The German takes the initiative and gets behind the bar to start straightening things out. He starts with the beer, and before long, under the one open eye of the bar manager, the German’s ordering the bar staff around like he owns the joint, there’s cold beer running like water and pork rinds have been added to the snack menu.

The Englishman and the American mumble for a while over their fresh beers about how much better the bar could be if the beer were warm, the food were cold and windows were bricked up- or if it were filled with sports memorabilia, the smell of fat frying and waitresses with low cut tops. With a couple of pints under their belts and the smell of roasting pork in their nostrils, sensing an opportunity the Yank and the Pom approach one of the more frazzled looking Samoan bar tenders and start to talk about employment conditions.

The Samoan bar tender listens intently, before approaching the bar manager and starting to whinge about the change in pace since the German arrived, adding “…since when did anyone work on weekends anyway?” The bar manager, not used to 3 customers at once, let alone upset staff with opinions, decides it’s all getting a bit complicated and takes the rest of the day off. The German left in command, seizes the reins, ramps up the brewing out back and contemplates adding schnitzel to the menu.

The Yank then quietly convinces the remaining disgruntled barstaff to make the German an offer, one which gives the German free run of the public bar (and attraction of the free pool table)- if in return he’ll let them section off the back half of the bar to open a deep-fryer and cleavage themed family restaurant. The German readily agrees- glad to be rid of the trouble makers. While the bar-splitting agreement is being made, the Englishman takes a peek at his pocket watch, discovers it’s half past tea-time and ducks off to find a Twinings.

A couple of hours later the Englishman comes back looking slightly worse for wear and accompanied by a large Kiwi who seems intent on making up for showing up late, rapidly downing beers as though it’s 6 pm closing. As the Pom introduces the Kiwi to the German at the bar he mumbles “don’t mention the war” through the side of his moustache- at which the Kiwi smirks drunkenly and with wide eyed innocence asks the German about the war. The German immediately takes offence and tells them to get their own bloody beer- before hiding the key to the pool table, switching off the keg and nicking off to find somewhere that appreciates good beer, a little efficiency and dictatorial middle management.

The Englishman senses a shift in the mood now that the German’s gone. The bar-staff are looking frustrated after a long day and now contemplating how they’re going to manage the sauerkraut and schnitzel special at dinner service. Displaying the better part of valour, the Pom asks the Kiwi to keep an eye on the bar in exchange for a free beer and free pool- while he pops out for a bit.

The Kiwi agrees amiably, grabbing one of the last warming frothy pints from the bar and staggering toward the pool table. It’s a minute or two before he realises the pool table is now locked and the key is missing. No longer under German observation, the staff have just started to relax and enjoy themselves again, when the Kiwi starts asking about the pool table key and wondering loudly and belligerently about why the beer is no longer running freely from the taps. The bar staff aren’t ruffled and couldn’t be bothered about the beer or finding the key- thinking that free pool is one of the attractions that started this mess anyway, and they’d no doubt be much less busy and generally happier without it. The Kiwi drunk, upset and completely failing to appreciate the average build of the so far docile Samoans- loses his rag and swings a pool cue at the nearest slumbering doorman. …at which point the Kiwi senses rather than hears a very low, very deep hum which resonates through the floor and the timber of the bar- something like the buzzing of a very, very large wasps nest…and shortly thereafter is assisted bodily but non-violently from the bar.

Thus leaving half of the original bar occupied by the now independent Samoan bar staff snoozing softly without the encumbrance of customers; and the other half under control of the Yank and the Samoan bar tender, happily doling out deep fried deserts for breakfast, lunch and dinner to a “growing” population.