Notes from Pago Pago- American Samoa
By Tom Robinson.
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Greetings from a lush, beautiful and, above all, hospitable South Seas Island.
First of all, I must dispel any preconceived notions the reader may harbour regarding the American presence in American Samoa. It was a shock to me, as it may be to you, just how un-American the place feels. As those who have read my previous update will know, my arrival to Samoa was somewhat unconventional. I rowed ashore onto a beach in the little village of Alofau. As I entered the bay, I saw a big church (one of at least three in the village), I saw a man standing under a large fig tree casting a net, and I saw an old fibreglass outrigger fishing canoe tied to a coconut palm; all bathed in the warm afternoon sun and contrasting with the towering green mountain above. I stepped ashore, staggered down the road and took it all in: lush vegetation, tidy and neat block homes, men walking in their lavalavas, a small store, kids swimming, and dogs wandering about. It was all very quaint; it was all very Polynesian.
Less than 24 hours after arriving to Alofau, I found myself entering Pago Pago Harbour, the official port of American Samoa. I expected to see high rise hotels, a large American Naval presence, marinas, and all the hustle and bustle one would expect of a harbour as famous as Pago Pago. Instead, I entered a proper South Seas fishing port: industry abounds, but there’s no sign of tourism or individual wealth. While making my observations I continued on to the anchorage to find just two other cruising boats at anchor, two live-aboards, and a spattering of abandoned yachts. I considered staying at the government run ‘marina’, but the day after I arrived, the door fell off the public toilet and I was sharing the dock with a wild looking, locally registered, Taiwanese longliner. After hearing tales of shipwreck and mutiny I opted to raft up with a nice cruising couple.
From that day forward I’ve been mostly recovering from the previous leg, a process that took about three weeks. What my problem was I don’t know, but it seemed to be a combination of exhaustion, lameness, and then a dose of the flu - it being such a long time since I have been surrounded by so many people, my immune system is certainly not what it used to be. Thankfully, that’s all behind me now and I’m able to look back most favourably on my stay so far.
I must confirm that typical South Seas hospitality and kindness prevails here on Tutuila Island just as it does across the Pacific. As I walk down the road people wave and smile at me, (especially the school kids on buses), and nobody is too busy to stop and share a conversation or offer directions. I’ve been here long enough to make plenty of friends, and there now isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t run into a few people I know, or hear a loud ‘Hello, Tom’, as a car whizzes down the road. It really is a small and friendly island.
Geographically and culturally there is just one Samoa, politically there are two: the Independent State of Samoa (formerly known as Western Samoa), and American Samoa. Western Samoa has a population of over 215,000 people. American Samoa, however, is much smaller, with a population of just 45,000 and a total area of just 200km2 - compared to Samoa’s 2,800km2. American Samoa really is the country town compared to the big city of Samoa. In the west they holiday and study in Australia or New Zealand, and some have Aussie accents. In the east they holiday and study in the States, and some have American accents.
Yesterday, I was at the dock and was introduced to a jolly Samoa man. After explaining my story, he told me that he was born in Melbourne (AUS), raised in Nelson (NZ), and then with a laugh, that he was a redneck at heart. Perhaps my jolly friend best represents the cultural milieu of Samoa. I’d never met a real redneck before; I’m not quite sure what makes a redneck, but he did jump out of a VERY large truck with the stars and stripes waving from the rear, not an uncommon sight here. Apparently, American Samoa has more big pickup trucks per capita than anywhere else in the world - I don’t doubt it. The trucks and the law enforcement are the only obvious signs of colonisation, but reach in your pocket and you’ll find those green banknotes that say ‘In God We Trust’. Despite the handful of obvious signs of westernisation, there really are very few outsiders (known as Palagi) living or holidaying here. In my daily travels I will only see a handful, if that, of expatriates.
For an island of this size, I expected there to be some sort of town center with all the amenities one would expect in a famous port, but alas, I was wrong. American Samoans do not live in a small city or a large town, but in 76 different villages. Every village has a little store, and all of the local produce is grown in small family lots and backyards. The villages are administered by a Chief and his family, who own all the land in the village. As well as Chiefs there are also High Chiefs, Oratory Chiefs and Paramount Chiefs.
Last week, I was walking back to the boat when a big truck pulled up, “Hey, brother, do you want a ride?”. How could I say no? The man driving introduced himself as the Son of the High Chief of the Village of Aua. Junior, as he is known, is an intelligent and well-spoken man who went into detail regarding the Chiefly system in Samoa. He pointed to the top of one of the peaks across the bay, then down to the water’s edge where the roofs of the houses perforated the dense green landscape. “That’s my family’s land. We have owned that land for over 4,000 years.” As I heard this, the first thing I wondered was whether I had said the right things and been respectful enough to this important man. Indeed, respect is everything in Samoa, it’s essential to every facet of Samoan life. I have even heard a complaint from an American couple whose child came home from school one day with a large welt on his back. Apparently, the janitor at school did not receive the respect he deserved, and so took to this poor child with his wooden broomstick.
The Chief of each village is responsible for the wellbeing of his people, and the cohesion of his village. One cannot enter the home of a chief without wearing the traditional lavalava, and one must be very courteous when speaking to a Chief. Through regular village and family meetings in the ‘fale’ (family meeting place) the Chief ensures his community is a successful and happy one. A happy village with a happy Chief ensures a happy island. Of course, no governing system is without its flaws, but I think we could all learn from the way of life in Samoa.
Despite the easy-going nature of the Polynesian people, respect is paramount, and through the influence of Christianity, rather strict laws apply. They differ slightly from village to village and are policed by the villagers themselves. For instance, most communities have a curfew for the young people, often beginning at 10pm or earlier. I was made aware of this rule one night by a Chief while I as re-anchoring my boat at 10.30pm. Naughty boy. Alcohol cannot be purchased anywhere on the island on a Sunday – a most distressing imposition for many a sailor arriving into Pago Pago. The beaches and bays of the island are not for any old tourist to make their own: some are family owned, and for the ones that aren’t, it’s often best to ask a local for permission before taking a dip. But don’t ever try to do so on a Sunday!
Sundays on American Samoa are for church, family and the ‘umu’ (traditional earth oven). On a still Sunday morning on Pago Pago harbour, when the sun is yet to rise above Rainmaker Mountain in the east, one will find the air thick with the smoke of a hundred backyard umus being prepared. Churches are everywhere in Samoa. Some are large, some are small. Some are traditional, some are more charismatic. Some are Protestant, some are Catholic. Almost everybody attends church. Some congregations are made up of one, albeit large, family and others may accommodate most of a village. Just as is the case throughout much of Polynesia, everything revolves around the church.
A few days ago, I was sitting in a restaurant, one of the few on the island, awaiting the arrival of an American couple I had arranged to dine with. I soon received a text saying that they had been “SAed” and that they would be running 15 minutes late. “What on earth could that mean?”, I thought to myself. Upon their eventual arrival, and my questioning, they told me of ‘Sa’. You see, in most villages, at sometime around 6pm, one of the village men will walk to the village bell and ring it, signifying the beginning of Sa. For the next fifteen minutes, each family in each home of the village will undertake their evening prayer. This means that if any passer-by happens to be on foot as the bell is sounded, they must quietly take a seat where they are, and remain there until the bell sounds again to signify the end of prayer. How wonderful.
After hearing this tale, I was, once again, very impressed with the Samoan way of life. We enjoyed our meal of pizza and reveled in the opportunity to relate to one another as outsiders. The table next to us was a long one, with a large Samoan family celebrating a birthday. The candles were lit on the big chocolate cake and the singing began. It started with the standard ‘Happy birthday to you’ in English, then the same in Samoan. And finally, instead of finishing with ‘Hip Hip’, ‘HOORAY’ we heard “God is good”, “ALL THE TIME!”; “All the time”, “GOD IS GOOD!”.
Afterwards the cake was divided up and paper plates were passed around. What a thrill it was when a nice young girl came over with three pieces of cake, despite us having no connection with the party. I looked at my American friends rather shocked – they said that sort of thing wasn’t unusual here.
American Samoa continues to surprise and interest me. Here is place with strong traditions, strict rules, and an important hierarchy. It’s a place where everyone has a home and the evils of the outside world seem a long way away. It’s also a place where friends are made easily and being an outsider means that people will stop to ask - to learn your story (I’m most often assumed to be a fisherman). After two visits to the local shop, the owner will know your name and greet you the next time you return. But most of all, Samoa is a place for walking down the street with a big smile on your face, for there wouldn’t be too many other places where that smile is returned so often and so genuinely.
For background Tom’s journey visit the archives