Steve and Cathy's Blog

All our lives, just hearing the name “Pago Pago” sounded exotic and far away.  And here we are, actually inPago Pago.  The first thing we learned, however, is that it is pronounced Pango Pango, and the second thing is that most of the people living there pronounce this territory as American Sam’oa, with the emphasis on the first syllable.  The American influence is limited, though.  There is a National Park here, and American Samoa is administered by the United States Department of the Interior.

We arrive at the island of Tutuila, the largest of five islands that make up American Samoa, which has been an unincorporated territory of the United States since the beginning of the 20^thcentury.  Pago Pago is a city of 9,000 and the territory has a total population of 65,000. As we come into port, the most noticeable feature are the beautiful green hills surrounding the bay; that and the enormous sprawling StarKist tuna packing plant, which employs one third of the workers in American Samoa.

Just as an aside, let me just note that there were once two tuna packing plants in American Samoa. Chicken of the Sea, owned by Thai Union Group of Thailand, had a plant that employed 2,000 people, but closed it in 2009 as a direct result of the Fair Minimum Wage Act of 2007.  In its infinite wisdom about all things, the United States Congress wrote legislation mandating $.50 a year annual increases in American Samoa’s minimum wage until it met the federal minimum wage.  Speaker Nancy Pelosi had managed to write into the initial draft an exemption for the territory at the request of StarKist parent company Del Monte Foods that was headquartered in her district. Republicans howled about such hypocrisy and Pelosi soon folded and the exemption was withdrawn.  So 2,041 people living 7,027 miles from Washington DC get thrown out of work by 535 clueless egotists who think they know more about American Samoa than the people living there.  Count that as damaging unintended consequence number 1,376,932 resulting from the destructive political meddling of the entire American Congress.  What a shame.

Now, where was I?  Ah, we arrive at 8:00am on a beautiful Wednesday morning, and we begin our excursion, Village Way of Life, at 8:30 by walking out to the main street of Pago Pago to board our bus.

When we booked this tour, we noted this caution: “Transportation is via wooden island buses that have no air-conditioning.  Due to the limited tourism infrastructure in this part of the world, there is a lack of professional tour guides.  We may use students with basic English skills, that are eager to share their country with you and make your visit enjoyable.”

The bus being referred to is better described as a pickup truck with a small bus passenger body with wooden vinyl-covered padded seats.  It is the method of public transportation on the island, and there are hundreds of these vehicles, mostly owned by individuals.

And when we meet our guide, she indeed is young and inexperienced.  Her name is Mary, and she is nineteen years old and has just received her Associates Degree.  She briefs us on where we will travel this morning, and off we go.  It takes Cathy and Steve about twenty minutes to be captivated by this lovely, delightful young lady.  We are getting a tour from the perspective of someone nineteen, a very mature nineteen, but nineteen just the same.  Her narrative is pretty much about what she sees as we pass by, and it is interspersed with what life is like for a nineteen-year old girl in a large family.  We are definitely learning “Village Way of Life” from someone who is living it right at this moment.

For instance, we pass by a high school.  Now this isn’t Mary’s high school, but she tells us what the school colors are and the nickname of their sports teams.  She then tells us about her school and their football prowess.  You would have to be with us to see how utterly refreshing it is to hear her talk about life from her point of view.  As we listen to her, we are really beginning to see that society here revolves around family – extended family (and village, which is often made up of just a few extended families).

We come to our first stop: Fatu-ma-Futi, or Flowerpot Island.  There is another island within a hundred yards of this island, and Mary tells us the island story behind the formation of these two islands, a wonderful kind of Romeo and Juliet tale.  We all take pictures of the island and each other.  Thankfully we have a great group on our bus, and everybody is warming to Mary and her tour.

On our way to our next stop, Mary tells us that every person on the island lives by three things: family, respect and religion.  She has six brothers and five sisters, and until she is 21, she must always be in the company of one of her brothers.  “I can’t marry until I’m 21.  I can’t even minglewithout my brother’s permission,” she tells us. “He must always be with me,” she says with a hint of teenage frustration. “Being able to be on this bus being a guide is my escape!” She says all this with absolutely no complaint but as an explanation of what she means by family, and, many times, says these sorts of things with a charming laugh.  As for respect, it is all about respecting her brothers and elders. Period.

Religion plays a pivotal role in a Samoan’s life.  Sunday is devoted to going to church and then spending the rest of the day at home. Nothing else takes place on Sunday. Nothing.  It is all about church and family.

She explains the curfew arrangement here.  Essentially, everyone must be home by 6:00pm.  There is a warning bell (from where I don’t know – possibly a church) and a conch shell is blown at 6:00pm.  At 7:00pm, you can leave the house.  Those who are under 20 must be home at 9:00pm, everyone else by 10:00pm. I think this is not law, just family and village custom, but it is strictly observed.

We arrive at our second stop, a park with a pavilion erected by the Rotary Club of Pago Pago dedicated to the thirty-four people who lost their lives in the tsunami that struck American Samoa in 2009, the aftermath of an 8.1 earthquake that took place on September 29^thone hundred twenty miles from there.  Four waves with heights from 15 feet to 20 feet high were reported to have reached up to one mile inland on the island.  This is another photo stop because weget a fabulous view of 1,716-foot high Rainmaker Mountain.

As we head for our next stop, Mary explains that American football is the primary sport on the island. It has to be said: Polynesians in general are big people, and we can see how football would be popular.  In researching material for this post, I found this in the Wikipedia article on American Samoa: “About 30 ethnic Samoans, all from American Samoa, currently play in the National Football League, and more than 200 play NCAA Division I college football. In recent years, it has been estimated that a Samoan male (either an American Samoan, or a Samoan living in the mainland United States) is anywhere from 40 to 56 times more likely to play in the NFL than a non-Samoan American, giving American Samoa the nickname ‘Football Islands.’”

Mary tells us that a university is opening up on American Samoa.  When asked if she is going to continue her education, she says that she is, but in Utah. She is going to study to become a nurse. With her personality and intelligence, she will make a truly wonderful nurse (can you tell that Steve developed a huge crush on this girl?!)

Our third stop is the golf course on the island. It isn’t exactly Pebble Beach, but the course itself is very nice and has commanding views.  We get a refreshing snack here and also get a picture of the affects of the most recent natural disaster to hit: Cyclone Gita, the same Category 4 storm that hit Tonga in February also slammed American Samoa and caused $10 million in damage.

After we have boarded our bus to leave, a young man steps on to the bus.  Mary introduces him by saying, with a laugh: “This is my small, annoying brother.”  You can really see the affection that this family has for one another.

Our fourth stop is the Leone Healing Garden.  In this tiny village, nine people died from the 2009 tsunami, and a monument designed by a local artist was erected in their memory and to help village members to cope with the loss.  It is yet another opportunity for photos of this beautiful island – as well as a curious old shipwreck.

Our last stop is the highlight of the tour, a visit to the village where Mary and her family live.  As mentioned before, Samoan culture revolves around the family, and the village is an extension of the family.  Here is what Wikipedia has on the subject: “There is also the traditional village politics of the Samoa Islands, the “fa’amatai” and the “fa’asamoa“, which continues in American Samoa and in independent Samoa, and which interacts across these current boundaries. The Fa’asamoa is the language and customs, and the Fa’amatai the protocols of the “fono” (council) and the chief system. The Fa’amatai and the Fono take place at all levels of the Samoan body politic, from the family, to the village, to the region, to national matters.

The “matai” (chiefs) are elected by consensus within the fono of the extended family and village(s) concerned. The matai and the fono (which is itself made of matai) decide on distribution of family exchanges and tenancy of communal lands. The majority of lands in American Samoa and independent Samoa are communal. A matai can represent a small family group or a great extended family that reaches across islands, and to both American Samoa and independent Samoa.”

On our way to the village, Mary explains the structure: that there is a High Chief and a Talking Chief.  Her father happens to be the High Chief of her village.  He talks very little in meetings, but relays his instructions and opinions through the Talking Chief.  Mary tells is that her uncle is the Talking Chief, and that he talks constantly, so sometimes when she see him, she tries to stay out of sight. She explains that she is designated as the Princess of the village, and has been since she was about three.  She does have a crown that she begins wearing at ceremonies when she is eight (“It’s really heavy, and I sometimes I have it on all day.”)  She also explains about a ceremony called an Ava, where she must stay silent and not move all daywearing that heavy crown. Again, please picture in your mind a smiling, delightful 19-year-old telling you these tidbits as we ride along. She is just as charming as she can be saying all this.  Plus, she adds, because she is the Princess, she does not have to dance today at the visit we will have.  And she adds that her eight-year old cousin will be one of the dancers and we will be asked to guess how old she is.  “Please don’t tell them I told you.  You aren’t supposed to know.  It just slipped out!”

Another aspect of village life that Mary explains before all sixty of us (on 3 buses) arrive at her village is the Guest House.  Each family has a Guest House, and there is a column holding up the roof representing each and every family member. On the outside are the columns for nieces, nephews, grandchildren and others.  The inside columns are specifically for grandparents.  All family ceremonies are held in these places.

After we arrive, we are greeted by Mary’s grandmother, the family matriarch.  There are a couple of tents set up for us to sit under, and she explains what will take place.  First, she explains what will happen in the ninety minutes we are there.  There will be a demonstration by two of the young men in the family of how to start a fire and build an “umu” where so much of their food is cooked.  Then we will visit five small huts where various skills will be demonstrated. Then we will all sit down and watch dancing.

The two boys – either in their teenage years or just a bit older, are very adept at starting the fire and showing us the preparations. Grandma explains that in Samoan culture the men do the cooking and do household chores.  This meets with great approval from many of the female members of our tour. The grandmother emcee explains all the steps as they go along, and the boys finish with a flourish.

We then tour the five huts where there are demonstrations of cooking of cocoa beans, serving of cocoa drink, weaving with palm fronds, cooking and a fifth thing I can’t remember.  We are offered a sampling of several of the foods that were being cooked.  While we tour, we get an opportunity to see some of the younger children as well.

Then we return to our seats for the dance.  Grandma introduces Mary and her cousin – yes, the Mary that said that she wasn’t going to be made to dance.  Then the eight-year old.  For the next ten minutes, they dance while we all watch (as well as some of the younger kids), and we learn that every movement of their hands etc. has a meaning.  Once it’s explained, it really becomes clear what they are trying to “say” with their hands.

Now before this show is over, Grandmother asks for two volunteer men to come up and dance with the eight-year old.  And yes, Steve volunteers, with gentle prodding from our friend Nicolle who is sitting next to him.  He and a guy named Don get up, are given the appropriate costume, and Mrs. Steve and Mrs. Don are asked to come up to receive something.  Then the two of us try to follow this young girl as she dances. Don does better than Steve, believe me. Fortunately, it lasts only about three minutes but it is a lot of fun for everyone, including the family we are visiting.

It is now time to leave.  What a wonderful experience this was.  The Samoan people are so hospitable, gracious and happy to share their culture.  Every American could learn volumes about how to preserve and protect strong family life from these excellent role models.  American society needs a strong dose of their values and priorities.

The ride back to the center of Pago Pago takes about twenty minutes.  On the way, Mary explains about how women wear flowers in Samoa – or in all of Polynesia actually.  If the flower is worn on the right side, it means you are “single and ready to mingle.” If the flower is worn on the left side, it means “sorry, you are taken.”  Mary adds: “And if you are not wearing a flower at all, it means your brother is with you!”

We arrive back in town and decide that we should stay on shore. We want to visit the National Park Visitors Center and have lunch.  Cathy suggests the Sadie Thompson Inn, which is 1.2 miles west of the ship but in the same direction as the Visitors Center.  It is one hot day at this point, but we persevere, and we are really glad that we do.  The beer is cold, the air conditioning effective, and the food is delicious. We shared a tuna poke (pronounced poh-kay) which is chopped raw tuna mixed with coconut milk and lime juices, with onion, shredded carrot, and celery), served with tortilla chips, then fish and chips. The portions were huge! We should have ordered just the poke. We are used to small to medium realistic portions on the ship, so we were laughing about being “back in the good old USA” with huge portions.

A few minutes after we are seated, our friends Ed and Kathy from Denver come in looking to have a beer and join us.  For the next forty-five minutes, we eat and drink and converse.  We pay our bill and are about to leave when we get in a conversation with the proprietor as Cathy has asked him how far the National Park Visitors Center is (go down to the third gas station and it’s across from there).  He then sees that Steve still has his pareo on from the dance performance, and that it is about to fall off.  He shows him how that it is tied up the way women wear them and proceeds to show him how men should wear this garment.  Very fun.

It’s on to the Visitors Center.  Once we find it, we walk in and meet the park director, who is the only one there.  He introduces himself and explains about the park.  He is obviously from the states, so Cathy asks him how it is that he is in American Samoa.  We find out that he actually requested this assignment, has been here for a year, and that he and his wife love it.  It turns out that he is from the Denver are as are Ed and Kathy, and they trade “It’s a Small World After All” stories about things they have in common.  He explains that he is the only one in the center because his staff of three are giving a presentation about American Samoa and the park on Insigniaat 3:00pm.  We have just enough time to hoof it back to the ship to catch this lecture, so we head out.

Cathy is particularly anxious to get out of the heat, so she walks on ahead to the ship while Steve trails behind to take more photographs of the bay, the interesting buses, an enormous canoe, and street scenes.  Both of us notice that every piece of emergency equipment is rushing past us, sirens blaring.  Something must be happening past the area we were just at.

Steve arrives back on board around 2:45pm.  After a quick discussion, we both agree that we need to rest, and that’s what we do.  Around 4:30, we go out on the veranda because we are due to leave at 5:00pm.  We notice billows of smoke coming from the direction where all the emergency vehicles were heading.  Must be a huge fire, which is very dangerous on a small island with limited fire response capabilities.

The ship pulls out at 5:00pm and we watch as the scenery recedes and the sun sets.

What a beautiful, peaceful place. What exceptionally nice people. Another place on our “come back to” list.  We are really happy to have been able to come here, and it confirms what we already know: Polynesians are very, very special people.