When Your Heart is Broken

11/22/08
Somerset Maugham best describes unrequited love in “Of Human Bondage” as the “ceaseless aching of the soul”.

Here are two men at 5:30 am, hearts breaking and filled with tears, on the grave in front of my house, softly singing songs of lament over love gone wrong while drowning their sorrows in comradeship and beer. They are probably going to be fined for a most human condition and elixir.

Laga’au

11/21/08

Laga’au is a nurse practitioner who lives in our village and performs out-patient care in the district for the hospital. She is a person I need to know to continue my diabetes project, but have never met.

I go to the house pointed out to me by others, ask for her by name, bring a gift of mango jam, and state I need her help in getting diabetes testing supplies. Her English and my Samoan are about the same level, basic. She agrees to a second meeting, to which I bring some salsa. We discuss how a letter from the hospital doctor to the National Hospital in Apia would really help. She agrees to meet me at the hospital to get the letter.

After biking to the local hospital for our meeting with the doctor, I meet the Head Nurse and ask if Laga’au is there. We go to a room with two other nurses. I tell them I am waiting for Laga’au. They all look puzzled, and then burst out laughing. I am sitting next to the real Laga’au who has no clue as to why I am there.

Who the other woman is, or what is her name, I haven’t a hint. I do know she likes jam and salsa. I also now know people can be very helpful when given these treats. I am meeting again with the Head Nurse and Laga’au with instructions to bring them jam.

Ten Gallons of Jam

11/19/08

The mangos keep falling like heavy raindrops, the kids keep selling me more mangos, I keep making this delicious sweet goo. The word is out, “Siamu”, jam. Samoans love it, but no one makes it. Why?

Making jam requires not only fruit and sugar, but also a low, simmering fire. This is the reason why jams come from cold places where a slow burning stove kept you warm while the jam simmered. Samoans cook over an open fire fueled mainly with coconut husks and soft, fast burning woods. This method is fine for the foods they boil in a pot, but would quickly burn anything with sugar. As for those Samoans who have gas stoves, they simply don’t know how to make fruit jam.

By selling the jam for what Samoans consider a high price, I hope to interest someone with a gas stove to take up the cause, but propane is expensive and learning how to simmer a new method of cooking. Nothing is ever as simple as it may first appear.

It is now on to salsa, of which Samoans can’t enough. I am giving out samples to fuel the fire. The ingredients are plentiful, grow in the garden and require no cooking. Already I have gone to two people’s homes to teach them. I find that Samoans don’t know how or have the knives to chop food into small pieces, or how to taste before you add the next ingredient. Selling salsa in the market may be an excellent way to earn some money or be the hit at the Fa’alavelave/party.

Learning the Hard Way

11/18/08

Just a few houses away and next to the road is a wonderful garden, which is completely fenced, and currently overgrown with weeds. Since my own “demonstration” garden is shaded, currently fully planted, and unseen by anyone other than my host family, I got permission from the owner and permission tentatively granted by the mayor, my host father/son to plant there. I was in heaven, finally the perfect demonstration garden. I started to dig as people passed, anxious to see new crops and learn gardening methods. A big mistake.

The next day the mayor said that since I lived with him and was considered his guest, it was improper to work on someone else’s land. This was an about-face. I said that I did not understand this Samoan custom, but would abide by his wishes. Was it permissible to work with other farmers, give them advice and seeds, as long as I did not dig. He agreed. Of course the real reason for the injunction was he has acted as if I am “his’ Peace Corps. When others in his clique asked if he was having problems with “his” Peace Corps, jealousy or vanity took charge.

In a subsequent meeting, I restated that I am an employee of the Peace Corps, invited by the Samoan government, and his entire village to assist in their development. I intended to act accordingly. The entire village paid for the house in which I stay but have never been fully informed as to why I am there. Their fear of the mayor has kept them quiet and away.

I said to the mayor I view my Peace Corps role to that of a match, bringing new ideas, some of which catch on and grow, others not; sometimes one gets burned. He laughed, maybe not thinking of the possible benefits and dangers of boys playing with fire.

Dealing with Please (Fa’amolemole)

11/16/08

The Samoan word for “Please” is beginning to get to me. Whenever a member of my host family comes up to me, the first word most often spoken is Fa’amolemole. They want something. This word can come at anytime day or night, no matter what I am doing. If Fa’amolemole is followed by Malie lau Loto (something like, “ I hate to ask you, but…), the request is usually for money.

The families I am living with are a hard working lot. They are simply poor, living in a poor place. Earning money amidst poverty is extremely difficult as my own efforts and labors are discovering. Available limited resources are shared. When you need something, you go to the person who has it.

This is not the world in which I grew up, but it is the world where I now live. I am the one with it and I just have to deal with it. One can’t cherry pick cultural attributes. You either take it as is, or leave. So when I hear, “Ita?” at end of the request, I reply that I am not angry, but it must show.

Vying for Mangos

11/15/08

The mangos from the giant tree outside my house hit the ground with a distinctive thud. The race begins between the children, the pigs, and me. The pigs usually win. These eating machines work 24/

Meals on a Wheel

11/15/08
Villagers often earn money going house to house early in the morning selling Samoan hot breakfasts. This family is selling “Koko Esi” made from papaya, coconut cream, sugar, and cocoa. I am always a willing customer. The problem is you never know what day your meal is wheeled to your house or what it may be.