Monday, March 19, 2012

The Day of Goodbyes

As my final days in Samoa approached, I had made a plan of how I wanted those final moments to come to an end. I knew I would only get one chance to get it right, and I wanted to have a good sense of closure as I exited my village, and then the country.

My last full day in the village was spent going house to house from one end of the village to the other. It gave me the chance to say final goodbyes, take pictures, and remember those who had welcomed me into their homes for two amazing years! My friends Saulo and Neueli joined me on the adventure, lugging around a big bag full of stuff from my house I was trying to get rid of in those final hours. I had decided that since my village had given me so much, it was a good way to give back to those families who had helped me out the most.

The two boys were so patient throughout the whole day, and never once complained about having to stop and wait for me at everybody’s houses. As we would approach someone’s house, they would ask me what I was going to give that family from my bag, and at a few houses, they told me to change the gift and give something else. I guess they had a better sense than me about what families could use, or would want. Along the way I was giving away my radio, nonstick frying pan, laundry bucket, old cans of paint, and much more!

Visiting with different families, I was able to see the true warmth and hospitality of the Samoan culture one last time. Once they saw me coming, families would rush around to place a clean woven mat down for me to sit on. I was given fish and baked bananas at my first house, and later in the day some wet sticky buns! Saulo and Neueli even got to eat at that house, and so that put them in a good mood.

Walking to each house, I was expressing my thanks to the families, and telling them how much I would miss them and the village. I was greeted by high chiefs of the village, mothers, grandparents and children. They all took time to sit with me and visit as I said my goodbyes to them. At some houses, I would exchange phone numbers with those who had them. It was a way of making us not feel quite as far away as we really would be.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, Saulo, Neueli and I were all exhausted! We headed back up to my house and I did some final cleaning and packing. I had promised them we would go for one final swim together in the ocean, so as evening approached, I set the work aside at my house and walked back down to the village for my swim. Before too long, there were over 15 kids out in the ocean swimming, and I realized they knew just as well as I did, that this would be one of our final memories of each other. As I swam there in the ocean, I remember thinking about how much life was going to change in the next 24 hours. I was looking out over that water, and realizing I would be jetting away from this small slice of paradise I had called home for 26 months.

That evening, I walked over to my neighbor’s house for our final dinner together. It was Milo’s family who welcomed me on my very first day in the village, and continued to treat me like one of their own family members for the entire two years. That night they were having my fa’amavae (going away party) and had gone all out to prepare a huge feast, and invite their extended family to celebrate my last night with them. I knew it was going to be an emotional night, as we said our thanks to one another, and prepared to say goodbye the following morning.

As I gathered there with Milo and his family, I was reflective of our time together. We had seen each other nearly every day for two years, and grown to love each other as the months went by. His family led the evening prayer, all of us sitting together there in a circle as they sang these songs I had come to recognize. Before too long, my meal was being brought out by Milo’s sister Iva, and placed before me: fried chicken, pig, soup, breadfruit and cooked bananas! As is the usual custom, I ate first, along with the head matai of the family. After we were finished, we drank our tea together while the rest of the family ate out back of the house where the food had been prepared.

Once the business of dinner had subsided, the head matai (chief) of Milo’s family—his uncle, gave a formal thank you to me for my service and for my friendship. As I was listening to him, I realized I had forgotten to prepare any remarks for my thank you to them, something that completely slipped my mind in the hectic final days. However, looking back, I’m glad I didn’t prepare anything ahead of time, because it gave me a chance to speak directly from my heart, as I was living in the moment.

I delivered my entire thank you in Samoan, lasting about 10 minutes in length. I spoke slowly as I tried to keep my emotions under control. I recalled so many of our great memories together, and what each of them meant to me. As I spoke, I looked over at Milo and he was sitting in the corner with his head turned away from everyone else. I knew he was listening, but just needed his own space. I spoke to the family about how Milo had reached out to me in the beginning, about how he had been like a brother, a true friend. Whatever I needed, whenever I needed it, Milo was there and more than willing to help me. As I continued to speak, I had to stop several times as my emotions took over, and looking around me, it was comforting to see my neighbors felt the same way. Somehow, by the grace of God, I made it through, and when I said Soifua (good health) to end my remarks, the head matai of the family started a slow and deliberate clap which the rest of the family joined in on.

Later that evening, I had a chance to give Milo’s family some gifts I had prepared for them. The first gift was an album full of pictures I had taken of them during my two years there. I had them printed off in America, and then sent to Samoa, since printing pictures is much cheaper in the States. I placed them in the album chronologically and they seemed to really appreciate it. It would give them a way to remember our time together long after I was gone. I also gave a set of carving tools to Milo’s dad, Taunaola. The tools were a gift from my Uncle Jamie who had sent them over, knowing that my neighbor could get more use out of them than he could. Other than a bunch of smaller odds and ends things, I gave Milo’s family my refrigerator that final night. Most Samoans can’t afford refrigerators, so this would be a big treat for their family.

Milo and his family had given me my gifts earlier in the week because I had to pack them away in my suitcases then. Milo’s dad made me a traditional kava bowl, along with a carved plate. They are gifts which mean a lot and will be cherished for years to come, but in the end, it’s the relationship I had with them that I will remember the most! It will be the time they invited me for dinner on that first night in the village. It will be the things they did around my house to help make it more livable: fixing a pipe, toilet or window. It will be their concern for me when I was sick or feeling sad, or their interest in the “American things” I did, such as jogging every day for exercise. It will be their loving me, even though they didn’t have to, but doing so because they wanted to.

After I left their house on my last night, I walked back down the hill towards the ocean and through my village, getting one last glimpse of night life in Samoa. Kids were out playing in the street, families gathered under their open fales relaxing in the cool breeze. It was a peacefulness I was going to miss. Milo and two of his cousins walked along with me, and by the time we decided to head back up towards our houses, it was nearly 12:30 a.m.

That night as I tried to sort through the last of my things, people kept stopping by my house to visit, as they knew it was one last opportunity to be together. Although I was tired and had things to do, I was still happy to see all of them come by to visit, some as late as 3:30 a.m.

Finally, by 4:30 a.m. my guests had left! Exhausted and mentally drained, I gathered enough strength to write in my journal before turning off the lights for the final time. I went to climb under my mosquito net, and perform the inspection of my bed for centipedes. The next day would bring many changes, changes that I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I had arrived in Samoa not sure if I wanted to stick it out for two years, and suddenly my final hours had fallen at my doorstep, and the sunrise of my last day was quickly making its way across the Pacific Ocean…



During the worst of the packing process, a few days before I left the village.



Saying goodbye to Saulo's grandma.



A nice old lady who went to my church.



Another great family!



Here I am saying goodbye to my year 8 student Luisa's family.



I was always so impressed with how active this lady was. I often would see her out in front of her house pulling weeds in the evening, or sometimes even hauling palm branches back from the plantation for weaving.



Notice the kid poking their head out from behind the door.



This family was weaving a fine mat when I arrived.



Neueli took this picture of Saulo resting as I was visiting with a family. The poor kids were tuckered out.



Another great family. I really enjoyed visiting with them.



A high chief from my village who I always thought fit the "grandpa" stereotype well.



I gave my laundry bucket to Lisa's family. They were always so good about giving me a ride when they would see me walking the long distance from the main road.




Cleaning house on my last evening in the village.



All the mats in my house had been taken outside and beaten and the inside floor swept clean!



The sun's lasts rays for the day visible on the mountain next to my house on my final evening in the village.



Saulo climbing the coconut tree in front of his house to give me one last fresh drink.



My going away meal at Milo's house was a big feast with many of my favorites!



Just before dinner with Milo's family. Here I am with his uncle and aunt.



Milo's dad, Taunaola, with his new carving tools.



One last picture with Naomi, taken sometime after midnight. Notice my refrigerator in the background, which was a gift to them from me.




A final visit with Fa'afetai's family, again, sometime after midnight!



During my late night walk through the village with Milo, Ickle and Palafu.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Do You See What I Saw?

Sunrise--August 18, 2010
As I continue this process of reflecting on my final days, memories and experiences from Samoa, I thought it would be fun to look back at what I thought were the best pictures from my time in the Peace Corps. The process of taking a picture happens in an instant, but the enjoyment of looking at them can last a lifetime.

During my two years in Samoa, I tried hard to capture the unique moments, the frustrating moments, and the joyous moments. However, I am fully aware that so many of them were lost in the blink of an eye, when the shutter lens was closed, and the camera powered down. Only if the camera had been with me at every minute, would I have been able to capture a more complete view of the culture, people, and places. But maybe it’s better this way, to have a piece of the puzzle missing, for that challenges me to recall, revisit, and reflect on those moments when the camera wasn’t around, when it was just me, living the life and loving the moment.

Editor's Note: After looking through the pictures, feel free to vote on your favorite picture! All you have to do is go to the right side column of this screen in the blue box, below my profile picture, and select your choice. The pictures are labeled above with the number of that picture. Thanks for your opinions!

Picture #1












Dreaming about the future. Walking through the village one evening, I found all these boys sitting by the ocean's edge, looking out over its open waters--2011

Picture #2












A culture and the test of time. A matai (high chief) from my village, during one of their weekly meetings--August 2011

Picture #3












Mighty force. Village members playing volleyball, seem oblivious to the waves crashing from passing Cyclone Wilma--January 2011

Picture #4












A breakfast for champions. This is what I woke up to in my room one morning--2009

Picture #5
























Whatever it takes to get the job done! Here Alofa is working to remove pins in the library walls before painting--2010

Picture #6












It doesn't quite fit. A cow leg protrudes out of a freezer in the church hall--January 2011

Picture #7
























Life in the slow lane. Here I am taking the long walk from the main road, back to my village on a day when the bus wasn't running--July 2010

Picture #8












Creativity at work! I had gone out jogging and when I got back, Saulo had left this behind, to inform me I had missed his visit--2011.

Picture #9












Simply Samoa. The view looking out over the water along the road to my house.

Picture #10












Chicka Chicka Boom Boom! During our group's Close of Service Conference, it was actually my idea that we all climb this coconut tree for our final photo together--September 2011

Picture #11
























The Ringmaster. Milo was all dressed up and ready for Sunday church service--2010

Picture #12


















Under the surface. Here I was snorkeling for the first time in Samoa--October 2009

Picture #13












The sweet spot. On one of my early days in the village when I was still very homesick, I walked up to this vantage point along the road and felt such a feeling of empowerment as I thought about the vastness of the ocean before me--2010

Picture #14
























Love thy neighbor. In the Samoan culture, you look out for your neighbor, and in this case, those without a chair--2010

Picture #15
























The love of learning & teaching. Here Christopher gets ready to ask me a question as I'm still helping someone across the room--October 2011

Picture #16












Keep on hanging on. Climbing a steep and slippery rock face--July 2010

Picture #17












Home is where the heart is. My heart wasn't here in the beginning, but eventually it found and made a home--one that will be a part of me forever.

Picture #18
























Heal the World. Students prepare to sing and dance to Michael Jackson's "Heal the World"--November 2011

Picture #19












The expedition. For the first time in his life, a matai from my village heads up the mountain he has lived next to since he was born--June 2011


Picture #20
























Friendship. Neueli and Saulo embrace for a picture during a field day at school--May 2010

Picture #21












Catch of the day. My neighbor had caught all of these beautiful fish using a spear, in two hours time--2011

Picture #22
























The force of gravity. Spectacular Fuipisia Waterfall on the island of Upolu--July 2010

Picture #23












All dressed up with nowhere to go. In the training village, each of our host families put us in outfits before the village wide dance--2009

Picture #24











The break of day. Sunrise on Easter Sunday--April 24, 2011

Picture #25












Friendships made. Here I am with Saulo's family, who I grew very close to--November 2011

Picture #26












Heavy lifting. Logi may be short, but he's able to get the work done.

Picture #27











Moonlight hidden. Out for an evening run under the light of the full moon, I was able to grab this shot--2011

Picture #28











Blue Lagoon. Flying over Samoa's lagoons on the way to American Samoa--September 2011

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Brothers

Milo, Saulo & Neueli
During my two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I gained three friends who I now call brothers. Although I gained friendships with many throughout my village, these three individuals each played a unique role in helping me through my toughest days, and then supporting me through my best. Looking back now, I see how each of us grew to become stronger people during those days we faced together, both the good and the bad. I invite you to read about how we became friends and what we learned from each other.

Milo
Milo and I met on one of my hardest days as a Peace Corps Volunteer—my first day. I had just been picked up in a van from the capital, and ridden out to my village to start my new life. When the van came to a stop on the road near my house, there he was, eager to help with my heavy bags and looking at me with much curiosity. From that first day, when I needed him the most, when I needed a friend like I had never needed one before, he was there.

From that day on, there were very few that passed where Milo and I didn’t see each other, or talk to one another. He lived right next to my house, and I quickly became like an adopted son to his entire family. Milo and I spent so many days together, that on the rare occasions we didn’t see each other, I felt like something was missing.

As the months went by, our friendship continued to grow. At school he was my student, and during my first year, he was one of the weakest students from his grade level. He lacked confidence, and relied heavily on his mom to complete basic homework assignments. But as we spent more time together, both inside and outside of school, I began to challenge him more, and he began to succeed, recognizing his own abilities and strengths. By the time my second year arrived, he was one of the strongest students in his grade level, answering questions with confidence and a smile, the same questions which kids use to laugh at him for not knowing the answer to, just the year before.

Samoans are very competitive, and this certainly holds true at school. Teachers often post publicly, the class test results and end-of- the-term rankings of students. Therefore, I didn’t feel at all out of place when I posed the question to Milo about if he would like to gain the number one ranking in his grade level and be at the top of his class. He certainly said yes, but I told him he was going to have to work hard if he wanted to get it.

Milo did work hard, and on the last day of school, he had earned himself that 1st place ranking over his fellow classmates. I’m so thankful he learned how to dream for something, and then follow through to the end to accomplish that goal. I think he also served as a great example to other kids who took notice at how he had grown, and perhaps they are asking themselves now if they have what it takes to do the same.

Saulo
I remember the first time I met Saulo. It was very early on in my arrival to the village, perhaps my second or third day. I was walking down the street with Milo, and beside me was this skinny little kid talking a hundred miles an hour and then laughing at everything he said. I remember feeling a bit annoyed at the time, not understanding what he was saying, and thinking he might be talking about me. He probably was!

As a student of mine, I quickly began to realize he was one gifted person. His English was one of the highest of any of the kids at school, and his energy day after day was infectious. This kid didn’t slow down, but just kept on charging ahead. He often enjoyed reading a book at school, titled, “Keep on Trying.” In this book, a boy had to keep learning how to do new things, such as riding a bike, or playing a game and thus was forced to “keep on trying.” I’ll never forget the time when Saulo and I were walking through the village one evening and he told me he was going to “keep on trying,” to do his best at school, and learn English. It was moments like that which made me smile.

Last June, when I decided I wanted to build on my Samoan language skills more, it was Saulo whom I turned to for help to act as my tutor! Yes, there were some adults I could have asked instead, but I knew that in asking Saulo, I would be placing a trust and responsibility on him that many hadn’t challenged him with before. It ended up being a win/win situation for both of us: my Samoan, and his English.

Many afternoons, it became routine to walk over to Saulo’s house to watch him prepare his family’s evening meal. I could just sit there for 15 or 20 minutes and watch him peel the green bananas, or cut up the chicken and toss it in the boiling water, cooking over a fire he had just made minutes before. I think it was a way of me simplifying my day, and appreciating some of the hard work that goes into preparing a meal for a Samoan family.

Neueli
My first memory of Neueli was during one of my classes at school. It was a time when I was still very much homesick, and doubting myself as a Peace Corps Volunteer. He helped lift my spirits that particular day, just by his saying thank you to me, and from that point on, I began to look at my time in Samoa in a completely different light.

I also can remember the days when I use to pronounce his name wrong. Just by your reading it, I’m sure you can tell it is challenging, although it now seems like second nature. However, I had been saying it wrong for the first couple weeks of school, until one day, he and Saulo came up to me one morning and said that they were staying inside at recess to teach me the proper pronunciation. They did, in fact, take the time to come in, and I think they drilled me for 10 minutes before leaving. From that point on, I had it down!

Neueli was always smiles. He came in to the room each morning with a cheer that other students just couldn’t quite match; he must be a morning person! Neueli, like Milo, had struggles with his school work early on, not being able to read basic sentences. His favorite book was “Little Car,” and over time he began to master not only that book, but several others I would place before him. During our second year together, it was so rewarding to be reading with a student from a younger year, and have Neueli come strolling into the room over to the side of my desk where he would start helping the students on words they didn’t know. He always got this excited look on his face, after realizing that he once was the struggling reader, but over time had learned to achieve and move to a higher level!

These kids, like most Samoans, have grown up in a very large family with many other siblings. Although Samoan parents love their children, it is still hard, and not completely a part of their culture, to spend individual time with the children as they are growing up. However, when Milo, Saulo or Neueli visited my house, I think they were able to find some of that personal attention which they didn’t always receive at home. In my house, I treated them as equals, as kids with ideas, challenges and successes. Perhaps at my house, more than in any other place, they were able to be kids—they weren’t required to do a bunch of chores, look after a younger sibling, or run an errand to the local store. They could just be themselves.

As not only their friend, but their teacher, I was left in a difficult position at school when I had to discipline them for one reason or another. I struggled until the very end to get them to understand that when we were at school I was their teacher and as a result, couldn’t goof around like we would after school. Although this was a challenge, it was one I was willing to take on, because our friendship meant so much to each of us.

We have so many memories together, both happy and sad. On the afternoon that the Peace Corps delivered word to me that my grandma had passed away, it was the three of them that came to my house to be with me, give me a hug, and then ask if there was anything they could do. We also shared so many happy times together: climbing the mountain near my house, going to the river or ocean for a swim, and dancing to music in my house.

There were also countless cooking classes, in which I taught them how to make “American foods” such as chocolate pudding, tapioca, popcorn or oatmeal. They were never shy about asking for a ripe banana or a cold glass of water from my fridge. They even were able to eat M&Ms and Peeps for the first time in their lives. When I cooked oatmeal before my Peace Corps experience, it was just oatmeal, but now when I cook it, it’s a memory of my time with Milo, Saulo and Neueli.

When I left Samoa, I left knowing that not only had I helped change the lives of these kids, but that they had certainly changed mine. I know they have bright futures ahead of them; I saw each overcome their own challenges and become better people in the process. I hope I never forget the things they taught me, like how to face new and unfamiliar obstacles, how to be accepting of new ideas, people and cultures, and most of all, how to love a dear friend.













Saulo licks the bowl clean after making tapioca!











Neueli enjoys listening to the music on my i-pod.













Saulo's turn for the music.













Milo and I at my house.














Saulo grading one of my Samoan tests he gave to me after a week of him tutoring.

























I followed Neueli this day while he collected the coconuts to take back to his family.

























Saulo climbed this coconut tree so I could have a fresh drink.













The boys taking in the sights on our mountain climb.

Happy 60th Birthday Peace Corps

On this day in 1961, President John F. Kennedy signed an executive order establishing the Peace Corps and naming Sargent Shriver ...