Lasts

(Disclaimer: I do intend on visiting Sāmoa in the future, I just don’t know when.)

Since coming to Sāmoa, I have had so many first experiences. Now, as my time comes to an end, I find myself reminiscing and thinking “this will be the last time I do this.”

With the measles epidemic affecting Sāmoa, this has been a weird ending to my Peace Corps service. I had anticipated that a lot of my goodbyes and lasts would be condensed, but instead, they have been occurring over the past month. I had my last day with my students a month ago. Two weeks later, I had my last day with my teachers. Last week, I took my last trip to Savai’i and said goodbye to the people there. I took my last bus ride earlier this week and went into a store in Sāmoa for the last time. I had my last time in the Peace Corps office. I had my last night in my house. And finally, my last night in Sāmoa.

A lot of people have been asking me how I feel about leaving and I don’t always know how to answer. I have such a range of emotions going on. I am sad about leaving all of my friends and family in Sāmoa. Anxious about what I’ve left behind and what the future holds. But I’m also excited to move on to the next chapter of my life (and go to Bali!). I could never accurately describe what it is like leaving the place you’ve called home for 3 years and not knowing when you will return. It is hard though. 

I want to thank Sāmoa and all the people I have met for making my experience so special. It wasn’t always easy, but these three years of my life will always have a special place in my heart. 

Fa’afetai mea uma.

Looking Back

Today I attended the Group 91 ava ceremony. An ava ceremony in Samoa is a welcome to a new person or group of people to a community. Each group of Peace Corps Volunteers is welcomed by MESC (Ministry of Education, Sports, and Culture) when they arrive in the country. Being at this ceremony three years after I have arrived in Samoa made me think about how far I have come in the past three years.

Three years seems like forever ago and just yesterday. Parts of my pre-service training (PST) are so vivid in my mind while others seem like a distant memory. Even just thinking about my extension year seems like it has gone by so quick, but it has also been nearly a full year.

When I think about who I was and why I came to Samoa three years ago, I think about the fact that I truly had no clue what I was getting into. This has been my M.O. my whole life. I am all about getting into situations where I have no idea what to expect or what will happen and just hoping for the best. I moved to New York City for university without ever having been prior to being accepted into my university. I chose a country for Peace Corps based on the program, not on the actual country itself. I simply figured things would work out.

I did not know that I would find a warm welcome and so many new “families” that I would become a part of. I didn’t know that I would become so used to giant bugs and say yes to so many church events. I had no idea that I would live off of rice for two years and drink 3-4 liters of water a day. I didn’t know that I would learn to love the ocean and sunshine (despite being a redhead). I didn’t know that so many people would appreciate my joking and sarcasm and that my quietness would be so accepted. I didn’t know that I would willingly sing a song for my church Christmas pageant or that I’d play volleyball so much despite how terrible I am at it. I had no idea that I’d be given so much grief and encouragement for walking, running, and biking. I didn’t know that I could loathe dogs so much or rescue a kitten on the verge of death. I didn’t know that I could hate polyester so much or love the freedom of shorts in the capitol. I didn’t know I could go 6 weeks without shaving my legs or enjoy cold-water showers so much. I didn’t know that I’d be so interested in that faitala (gossip) or get so many tattoos. I had no idea that I’d miss so much at home or get so much from Samoa. 

I could probably go on forever about all the things I have gained and/or lost by living in Samoa for three years. Overall, however, I am so happy that I have experienced everything I have. It has not always been easy, but that’s life. No matter what you do, there will be challenges and the challenges I have faced in Peace Corps have only made me a stronger person (except maybe centipedes). Samoa will always be my third home (behind Colorado and New York). I am so grateful to have so many homes. 

Being Free to Laugh (at yourself)

Being embarrassed is a part of life. People get self-conscious when they think they are being silly or doing the wrong thing in front of other people. It seems to be so hard to feel and be free to laugh at yourself when you do something that can be considered embarrassing. I was pretty lucky that I grew up with a mom who would typically say, “We will never see these people again.” whenever she was about to do something that would embarrass her or me. This helped me to not be so self-conscious in life, but there are certainly still times that I get self-conscious or try to stay out of the “spotlight” for fear of doing or saying something that will be judged by others. In Samoa, however, I have learned to take more time to laugh at myself when I do or say something silly.

Being ridiculous and somewhat silly is actually a point of pride in Samoa. I have seen so many Samoans dance like they’re drunk (when they’re actually sober), fall (usually on accident), or do some other ridiculous thing and their first reaction is to laugh at themselves. They don’t appear to be embarrassed or self-conscious when they do these things. Instead, they think it is funny and they will laugh and continue on with what they are doing. 

This is something about the Samoan people that I truly love: their ability to laugh at themselves. They don’t get easily embarrassed, they don’t think twice about being silly, they just go for it, full on. Being around this energy has rubbed off on me. 

Initially, I would get laughed at for how I spoke Samoan or the way that I danced. I thought it was mean. However, over time, I have come to realize that to them, I do dance funny, and my Samoan is not always correct. I do not need to always look a certain way or speak a certain way. I do not need to be perfect. It became so much easier to laugh with them than to feel defensive and defeated. Over time, I have laughed more and more at myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I still feel defeated and defensive sometimes. That is simply the human condition when it comes to feeling like you messed up and people start to laugh at you. However, I have come to realize that nothing is too serious that you can’t just laugh even a little about it. So take some time today to laugh at yourself and be silly even if people are watching. For all you know, you may never see those people again.

The Art of the Eyebrows

Every culture has non-verbal ways of communicating. There are universal signs: the middle finger, choking, etc. There are also gestures, body language, and signs that are specific to different cultures. And certain gestures can mean one thing in one culture and a totally different thing in another culture. Living in Samoa for nearly three years has definitely taught me this.

The biggest non-verbal way of communicating in Samoa is through the use of eyebrows. In the states, if someone raised their eyebrows at me, I would assume they are trying to hit on me or they are just being creepy. In Samoa, however, whole conversations can be had through eyebrows. 

Raising your eyebrows in Samoa can mean many things, however, the main thing that it means is “yes”. When asking someone a yes or no question in Samoa, you may get a non-verbal response of just eyebrows, no words. If any sound is included, it is probably just a little grunt of ascension. This was something that took me a while to really have imbedded in my brain. I constantly looked for a verbal response of ioe (yes) or leai (no). Sometimes, the eyebrow raise would be so subtle that I hardly even registered it. Over time, however, I have adjusted to this non-verbal cue. I have actually found myself doing this on several occasions. 

I also use eyebrow raises just to affirm that I am listening to someone and understand what they are saying. I have seen Samoans, however, use their eyebrows to communicate way beyond my understanding. It’s like a second language for them at times.

I have found this non-verbal communication totally fascinating, but I have adapted and assimilated to it. So if you see me in the states and I respond to your question with just a raise of my eyebrows, I am not hitting on you, I am simply answering your question. 

Sounds of Samoa

After a weekend visiting my village that I lived in for two years, I was suddenly hyper aware of the sounds of the village. Now that I live in the capitol of Samoa, the sounds are much different. But it is the sounds of the village that make up Samoa in my mind.

As I sit there during the day in my family’s faletele (open, traditional Samoan house), I listen to the constant crow of the roosters. They are everywhere and never seem to sleep. The pigs wander around, snorting, sniffing, eating, and sleeping. The dogs run and bark after each other, cars, people, basically anything that seems to be a threat. The sound of a song on someone’s speaker blares throughout the village. Typically the song of the season plays on repeat, and I mean literally repeat; it plays again and again and again for hours. No one seems to tire of it until the next big song comes along, which will probably be in about 3 to 6 months. Children are laughing and chasing each other, assuming everyone is napping or they have no chores to do. 

In the evenings, at least two church choirs can be heard practicing. The sound of the piano and the youthful voices of children singing hymns that they’ve probably known since they began to talk. People are walking along the road and calling out to each other as they enjoy the coolness of the evening once the sun has gone down. The roosters continue to crow – nothing’s going to stop them from letting out their thoughts. Pigs have settled in for the night after eating. The dogs are even more riled up; ready to protect the property they live on. 

Even in the middle of the night, the chickens are making as much noise as they want. The dogs occasionally start fights and much barking ensues from several dogs. The main sound though, is the sound of the ocean waves coming in. Even if you don’t live right next to the ocean, you can hear the sound of the water.

Despite there being cars, especially in my village, the sound of cars is not prominent to me. Occasionally, one will honk and the sound of the diesel engine buses doesn’t miss my attention. But it is all the little sounds that come to mind when I sit and listen to the village.

Talk the Talk

Every culture has its own idea of what “small talk” consists of. You know the questions you ask when you first meet someone or they are just an acquaintance. And there are always those questions or topics that are not socially acceptable to ask someone you don’t know well. For example, in the states, you would never ask how old someone is when you first meet them. Getting used to what is considered small talk in Samoa was something I had to adjust to because it is far different than what is considered small talk in the states.

A few weeks back, I was walking and a woman was out waiting for a bus and asked if she could walk with me for a bit. I had never met nor seen this woman before, but we started talking as we walked. The following is a general overview of what we discussed and a great example of what small talk is in Samoa.

One of the first things we established was each others’ names, which is not usually a first question. I have spoken to several Samoans where I do not find out their name until the end of the conversation (or maybe not even at all). I also found out that she was leaving her work of being a house cleaner in my village and was going home. This then led to me inquiring about where she lived. This all sounds pretty normal for someone from the states to this point.

Over the next 5 minutes that we were together (yes, you read that right, it was only about 5 minutes that we walked and talked), this is what I learned about this woman. She has two children who live with her brother on Savai’i (the other island). She lives in a village in the Apia area with her mom. She is 32. Her birthday is in June and she asked for my phone number so that she could invite me to hang out with her on her birthday.

The fact that I know things like her age and her children make it sound like we are close friends from an American perspective, however, these are normal things to talk about with strangers in Samoa. I remember when we first moved to our training village, one of the first questions I was asked was how old I was. It is also not unusual to be asked if you are married almost immediately and if you have kids. There is also no assumption that just because you aren’t married, you don’t have kids.

One of the most common questions anyone asks here in Samoa though (especially when seen walking or sometimes even when you are just sitting) is “Where are you going?” Even if it is obvious that you are walking to school, people with call out “E te alu i fea?” (Where are you going?) That was actually what started my entire conversation with this woman.

I used to get annoyed by the questions: Where are you going? How old are you? Are you married? I have slowly become used to it though and I was actually the one to initially ask some of these small talk questions to this woman. I haven’t heard from her about seeing her on her birthday, but I’ll keep you posted.

Reinvigorating my Passion

I grew up knowing I wanted to be a teacher. It has always been my passion. Teaching, however, is typically a thankless job with a high burnout rate due to low pay, high stress, and lack of respect. I have been witness to this burnout and felt twinges of it in myself. 

While I was teaching in New York, I certainly felt a lack of respect as a professional. I had a master’s degree and was constantly watched and questioned as though I had no idea what I was doing. It was because of this feeling that I decided to change pace and join Peace Corps, but continue teaching.

Over the past two years, even though I was teaching and even though I loved most things about what I was doing, I was teaching the same things every day, which can be difficult for anyone. I was teaching letter names and letter sounds, which is kindergarten level in the states. I have never had a desire to teach kindergarten and I commend those who do (same goes for middle school and high school teachers).  

When I decided to extend my Peace Corps service, I knew I wanted a change of pace. And when I decided to spend my third year at a special education school, I was reinvigorated with the possibilities and challenges that I knew I would encounter. I knew I would no longer be just focusing on literacy, but on all aspects of the school and classroom: projects, math, science, health, living skills and so much more.  I was looking forward to my extension for a long time.

Now that I have finished one fourth of my extension year, I can say that it has already been so much more than what I wanted and expected. Every day is unpredictable, but in the best way. I sometimes get scratched or bit by children, but in the moment where that same student who bit me smiles at me, I feel so much joy and love. There are days that I find myself holding back tears of joy at the little steps of progress in the teachers and students.  

Seeing a student who rarely talks in class say even a few lines during the end of term celebration in front of students and parents or seeing a class of children light up and call my name when I walk in the room makes me so happy and fulfilled. Working with people with disabilities is not for everyone and there are days that are so hard, but the rewards are even more incredible. 

I am also constantly in awe of all the teachers and staff at my school. They are all so open to new ideas and my suggestions. Teacher training for special education is limited in Samoa so these teachers take in all that they can. Even though I am younger than all of them, they still respect my experience and knowledge and accept any and all help that I give them. In exchange, I constantly learn from them about how Samoa can progress in terms of inclusive education (and improve my Samoan language skills). I cannot wait to see how the next three terms go and how things change for the students, teachers, staff, and me.