Just an update that I'm alive and well in Samoa-- the internet, like many other things here, is slower and far more inconsistent than its American counterpart, so photos for the moment are out of the question, but hopefully I can upload some soon!
It was a massive adjustment to go from Hawai'i to Apia. After spending so much time exploring Honolulu, it became easy to convince myself that Samoa would be a mini Hawai'i-- it became apparent immediately that that was not the case. Samoa is one of the least developed countries in the world, and in terms of resources it's pretty obvious, but the social dynamics here don't seem to reflect that reality. While in Honolulu and any other resource-rich American city homelessness is everywhere, here there aren't homeless people and hunger isn't prevalent. It's a communal society, one in which everyone takes care of one another. To a Samoan, the idea of letting a person live on the street when you have room to spare in your home is blasphemous, and understanding that attitude has been both refreshing and humbling. And despite the lack of resources, people don't consider themselves poor. They just live simply, and they seem mostly happy with that fact. It's a constant reminder of what actually matters.
One of the biggest shocks has been the heat-- Hawai'i has breezes and cool nights while Samoa has intense heat and humidity that seeps into your bones. In certain desperate moments you wonder how people can reasonably inhabit this place, and how you'll continue to live here for 4 months. AC is a laughable luxury and most rooms don't have fans. At first it was completely overwhelming, but now my body is starting to adjust. I've mostly overcome my first Samoan sunburn! Still a bit of a contrast with the -15 degree Vermont winter that I left behind.
I'm increasingly thankful that I'm not squeamish in terms of insects, because I cohabit my room with lots of cockroaches, moths, wasps, termites, centipedes, and lizards, as well as the overflowing bathroom water from next door. Like I said, it's been an adjustment. The toughest thing to come to terms with is the emaciated dogs and cats that roam all over--they're seen as a nuisance here, in a similar way that an American might feel towards rats. We've taken a dog who we call Meile (which means dog, very creative) under our wing. She seems to be nursing puppies and you can count every single individual bone in her body; we feed her regularly and she's so sweet, but shhhhh, that's a big cultural faux pas.
People here are so friendly and welcoming-- it's a bit uncomfortable to come to terms with the fact that in this society, men will whistle and honk and pursue you very openly and loudly, but I just need to keep reminding myself that it's not personal. On a more positive side, that friendliness also translates to little kids coming up to me and yelling "PALAGI!" (white person) and laughing at my attempts to speak Samoan, and strangers engaging you in conversation and opening themselves up so wholeheartedly.
I'm still a bit nervous for the village homestay in Lotofaga that's coming up, but I know it's just going to be massive amounts of friendliness and food (unfortunately lots of fish and rice, and allergies aren't entirely understood here, but people are willing to stuff me full of non-fish and non-rice, so it's been fine so far). This trip so far has just been a consistent push outside of my comfort zone, and I know that it's going to continue, but the challenge has been so incredible. At one particular peninsula here, the ocean and sky stretch to the ends of the earth. Everything here is so beautiful and surreal, and the connection that people have to the earth and to each other is something that's entirely absent in our industrialized lives. The least "developed" countries seem to be the ones that have best maintained their roots and understand where they belong in the world.
I could go on forever about this place, but time to explore. Fa soifua!
-Sami (my Samoan name- ocean)
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