Seattle students come to samoa with crazy old pics

in the pics: giant bags of skittles, fancy chocolate covered blueberries and cherries comes my way via seattle group; the board in my room, with pics and drawings and other stuff; brooms and bananas in Apia.

3/29
My friend Norman asks me if anybody dies in America during the day—if anyone is shot…hhmmmm I didn’t really know how to answer this question. He said he was watching the news. The daily paper in Samoa is following in the footsteps of American papers—putting sensational events on the front page—is that the only thing that sells.
Here is the web address for the Samoan Observer:
http://www.thesamoanobserver.com/

I’m at norman’s house to help him write a paper about nature vs. nurture. I help him with computer assignments and get music from him.a.nd play the drums that are in his father’s church..and hang out/

I finished an interesting book…called Wake Up Call…about 9/11…a mother and widow gets tough on Washington and the people who pull the strings.
“always give people the room to do the right thing. Always leave the door open.”
The widows and I live our lives so as to not have any regrets at the end of the day.
“mom, sammy is in the moon. He died like daddy died. It’s just the way life goes.”
Just expect to have more sadness than happiness and then you cant’ get angry and disappointed.
Lose what is priceless and everything else is cheap.


3/25
Students from Seattle are in a neighboring village. I was on a bus headed to the airport—at 4:00am this morning. A boom boom bumping bus to exact—the bass was boming and the shocks make me be bumpity bump. Ten high school students (who have been here less than 24 hours). We had a meeting today. One question: what is one observation about samoa? I was impressed by the insights: importance of family and being close physically; but also seeming OK with children overseas; samoans OK with “boredom”—not doing anything, where Americans may not be as comfortable with this; bright and brash colors and smells; samoans being OK with playful touch (but not OK with hugging, kissing).

It’s fun when I can close my eyes and feel itchiness ripple across my back. Part of my skin is moisturized with lotion, another patch is kept dry with powder, another has fungus killer on it. I feel like a Petri test dish growing different things.

I didn’t tell the samoan people I was married—now they want to marry me off to a woman who is a teacher and has a brother married to a seattle woman (ex-peace corps volunteer)—that would be convenient, wouldn’t it? Marry for love, or for moving up? Why does that phrase so turn me off? Can’t two bright stars meet in the middle of the light field? I want to be with someone I can relate toooooo opposite and it doesn’t work.

One seattle student talked about the racism against the samoan and Maori people in NZ—I can think of a few reasons: not knowing about someone leads to fear…hate…untrustfulness. Many samoans are moving into NZ territory—and especially if they excel at something it would make the palagis uneasy. Also if Samoans do not “hold up their end of the deal” it might make people “not happy.” The NZanders may be the minority in certain places in NZ—that would be kind of scary.

It is crazy seeing old pics—especially peace corps volunteers doing the gang symbols young people like to flash for the camera. What crazy, zany, not to be missed experiences I have had. Experiences I don’t really know how to process at the time, but I feel there is a lifetime to “process and unpack” all that I have seen and done.