Scintillating Samoa: Still the Same-Same
SAMOA
Samoa was scintillating for several reasons. The first became apparent, even in the darkness of the night. Branham a lovely local lad who, without hesitation, offered to drop me to my hotel 45 minutes away was the first to point out this peculiarity. A pitstop at his stepbrother's home showcased multiple headstones … on their front lawn!
Branham explained that there were many cultural protocols and that it was a longstanding custom to bury your immediate family on your own land. Cemeteries existed here in Upolu, though not on the neighbouring sister island of Savaii. Since land was plentiful, prosperous and personal, there was a paucity of poverty. Furthermore, land ownership surreptitiously suggested that one's family would be their caretakers while living, and beyond. As such, using cemeteries seemed frowned upon and a community taboo.
For those who are familiar with traditions in which death implies transitions and onward journeys, these generous displays on people’s lawns seemed like an inescapable daily reminder of our common (ultimate) dispositions.
Once the sun lit the surroundings, it became quite clear that Samoans had "a way". Driving the island was such fun since most the districts had distinctive decorative displays. Lining their homes, greenery was neatly organized, colour coded and choreographed within the community. A section of orange, then yellow, then the same hue of blue met my eyes. Like those couples, or parents and kiddos in tow that match their attires, here, tires filled that function. Spliced and splayed, they served as synchronized street side plant holders. These aesthetics weren't artificial, rather, these frills were financially supported by the government to help beautify so as to bolster tourism.
The countryside was picturesque. From cerulean crests and troughs crashing and cascading the shoreline to rolling hills, tall trickles and whooshing waterfalls, there were many fan-favourite tourists spots to check out.
I was struck by the manicured homes with similar traditional fales (open air platforms) that offered shade and space for family gatherings. Seeing one family’s turf blend into another’s told the tale of togetherness.
All around, the country was clean and easy to cruise. It seemed idiosyncratic to me though, that notwithstanding an international driver's license, one needed a temporary Samoan license in order to be behind the wheel - or so the police officer told me as he flagged me to the side of the road ...
… I exhaled gratitude as I slid away, snaking around the bends, eyes feasting on the ever changing ocean's play with the land on my left and the dynamic display of life being lived on my right. It was within the details that I could see Samoans manifest their way of life. Even garbage was collected in the same way, thoughtfully perched for practicality: easily accessible for governmental pick up, yet less permissible to poaching animals.
Fales lined the coastline. Not only for tourists wanting to experience the culture and country without breaking the bank, but also, for frequent familial access. Usually round in shape on the inside, here was another reminder of how folks united to sit, sleep, eat and connect. In fact, it was required to host a chief’s visit. Since nearly every family had at least one fale, its ubiquity showcased Samoans emphasis on social cohesion.
Akin to other islands in the South Pacific, Samoan culture seemed to also hold space for a 'third gender' too. While the locals with whom I spoke offered various perspectives, the fluidity that folks are exploring in other areas seems somewhat overt and longstanding here.
I mulled over the juxtaposition of dominant culture in light of the 'same same-ness'. All around, there was evidence of how things were done, from haircuts and home shapes to gardening and garbage pick ups. I watched with deep curiosity as young lads sported garments of leaves, lay for hours in communal spaces to have (similar) tattoos, led traditional ceremonies and cooked an umu (fish on hot rocks) in ways that were unchanged from eons ago, in spite the advent of readily available spices.
Somewhat shockingly, Samoan youth tickled my thinking on what makes us be, behave and (want to) belong. What inspires a young person to hold onto their history so strongly and what makes another pivot to a place so modern that it’s unrecognizable - and where is the balance between these two?
I wondered what the secret ingredients were. How were the Samoans raised today such that they still rooted themselves overtly and tangibly in the past? While there are benefits to both sides, many communities grapple with the ways in which to inculcate a sense of identity, belonging and confidence for their future generations.
After all, this is an age old conundrum which made me wonder how much do I scoop up from tradition and where and when do I accommodate, adopt and assimilate …
Sure, Samoa has beaches, blue holes, blowholes, waterfalls and winding roads. But more so, Samoa is scintillating in that it offers a glimpse into a past that’s powerfully palpable in sculpting the present.
May we anchor and adapt to ascend,
Thanks for sharing. How was the cuisine and any favourites? It looks stunning. I often think of Samoan wrestlers in pop culture and that many Samoans are naturally large with high BMI due to genetics and evolution. Not sure how accurate that is. The Rock is probably the most famous person of Samoan heritage. Was wrestling a prominent aspect of tradition or culture?