Here We Go Again!

Year 2. They say it’s a lot easier and goes by a lot faster than year 1. Since my year 2 is just starting, I’ll have to take their word for it. Not that I don’t believe them because I do. I was fortunate enough to be able to go home for Christmas this year. It was amazing to be home and kind of re-live my old life. Take hot showers, sleep in my old bed, hang out at my regular spots, etc. But as my trip ended, and I was getting ready to go home I thought back to how I felt the last time I was leaving for Samoa. The last time was the first time  I was going there and the word ‘nervous’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I remember having a range of emotions at any given moment that could, and most likely were, all over the emotional scale. But this time, this time I wasn’t nervous and wasn’t on an emotional rollercoaster ride. I knew what I was coming back to. I knew what to expect, and what people were going to be in my Samoan life.  That’s why I believe year 2 will be better than year 1. Last year I had to learn the language, and the fa’asamoa (Samoan way).  I walked on egg shells every day and with everyone. But now I know the language and I know the fa’asamoa. I’m more confident with day to day interactions and experiences as well as more confident in general. I know how to say no to people in a polite and respectful manner, and I know how to get my point across without being rude or stepping on any toes.

There are a lot of things that I have learned from my first year in the Peace Corps, mistakes that I have made, and expectations that just plain weren’t practical.   One of the biggest mistakes I made last year was setting expectations for something that I knew little to nothing about. Last year I had expectations of doing several projects in a certain amount of time (usually a short amount of time). It took a serious crash into a brick wall to realize that this was not the way to go about it all. For this year, my plan is to make no plans, and have no expectations. With this, I won’t have all the pressure and no brick walls to run into. 

I am excited for my year 2 of teaching. I will have all the same kids. I know their abilities and I know them as individuals. I am excited to bond with them more, and I’m excited to revise my lessons in a way that I know will work best for each of my kids.  I know I said before that I’m not making and plans or having any expectations for year 2, but I do have a goal for this year… my goal is to just accept things for what they are and how they come. Whether it’s bad or good I’m just going to accept it. 

Doing the splits

I keep having these dreams. Dreams where I’m trying so hard to wake up and I can’t. I know that I’m dreaming and I am aware of my body, but I can’t move. It’s like something from my dreams is trying to pull me back in. I don’t know why I keep having these dreams, nor do I know what it means. All I know is that its like I’m in two alternate universes, trying to get to one or the other, but I’m paralyzed. The feeling of wanting to move, and not being able to, is the worse feeling in the world. No one around to give you a push no one even around who knows your in trouble. This morning I woke up put on a pot of coffee, did my stretches, and got ready for the day while listening to music. The same routine I’ve done for years. It comes natural to me. It’s what I do, who I am. This afternoon I taught my students, ate lunch with the fellow teachers and listened while they spoke in a different language. I wore my pulotasi and ate food I’ve never had until coming here. This is not what I usually do, nor is it who I am.  Nevertheless I do it all because here is where I am. This evening I watched a regular favorite movie of mine. While later talking to my Samoan neighbors, and washed my clothes in a bucket. I made my favorite pasta dish for dinner on a 2 burner hot plate. Not usually what I cook my food on, but it is now. Everyday of every moment I am between two worlds. One foot in the land of me, tradition, routines, familiarities, likes and dislikes. And the other foot in the circus land.  Confusion, unfamiliarity’s, and craziness.  In a place where I have no tradition and I must like everything (for appearances). One foot in each world. Worlds so different and so far away from each other it’s like I’m doing the splits. Tonight I’ll read my book and write in my journal. I’ll listen to Norah Jones or Michael Buble before going to sleep (because that’s what I always do.) But when I get into bed I’ll make sure my mosquito net is completely around the bed and I’ll go to sleep on my piece of foam. Every moment of every day. Two worlds. And now this has all caught up to me. These splits that I’m doing are now in my dreams as well the paralyzing feeling I have while trying to come from dream land to reality. It’s the same paralyzing feeling I feel each day. Wanting to go to my land of tradition, familiarity, and routines. While not being able to leave the confusion, and unfamiliarity.  Each one slightly pulling, but having the same amount of strength in a game of tug a war. Frankly, I don’t know what to do. I’ve thought about giving up one or the other. Leave Samoa and go home, or completely transform myself to anything but my old self. But the truth is I believe if I did that I would be unhappy. Feel like I quit and lost myself. So again, I don’t know what to do. All I do know  though is this. I’m paralyzed and I have an itch that I just can’t scratch.

Fairy Tales

As children we were all told fairy tales. Fairy tales filled with hopes and dreams coming true, and happy endings time after time. The shoe fits Cinderella. Snow White wakes up with a kiss. The frog turns into a prince. They all live happily ever after.  As a child you think this can and will be your life too. You think if Pinocchio can wish upon a star than so can I. So you wish upon your birthday cakes, throw coins into fountains, and wish on fallen eyelashes. Just hoping for your dreams to come true. That you will have your perfect happy ending. Then you grow up, and realize something… who ever came up with the saying, “Happily ever after,” should have his ass kicked-so so hard.

Because fairy tale stories are not reality. Because the reality is there are no magic mirrors, or fairy godmothers, and there is no prince on a big white horse coming to your rescue. Just us, alone.  In our stories we are both the hero and the villain. We can be the fairy godmother or the wicked witch of the west. What I am faced with right now is the constant battle of which side is going to out win. For the longest time I’ve been living in this fairy tale of what life could be like here. But now I am coming to the realization of what Samoan life actually is as to oppose of what I thought it would be.  I have been hit with reality, and reality hurts. So that is why I haven’t posted anything in awhile because like everything- things that go up, must come down. For the past 6 months I’ve been either on a high or coasting along. But this past month has been one of the harder months I’ve had in a long time. I don’t want to complain or use this blog to vent. (Or at least try not to) But the reality is that just because I’m living in a place with beaches and sunshine does not mean my life is all - beaches and sunshine. I think that it is important for me for you all to know that. That the weather and environment, and the excitement of my supposed “adventure” is not as its all cracked up to be. But anyways I just wanted to let everyone know why I haven’t been updating. I’ve been a pretty rough place lately and I didn’t want a bunch of negative postings.  So sorry for the absence.  When the shock of my reality becomes less painful, I will be back here to fill you all in.

A morning surprise

I woke up one morning and went into my kitchen to find brand newborn rat babies on my kitchen floor. (Killing rat babies was morally harder for me to do than full grown rats)

My Peace Corps House

The view from my backyard

The front of my house

living area and kitchen

my bedroom

Back view of my house

The faleo'o next to my house

Sports Day

In a previous post I wrote that this week is the last week of school for Term 1.  On Thursday we had Sports Day. From talking to other volunteers their schools are doing other type of events. Such as Culture Day, English Day, and Book Day. Most schools do all of the events throughout the year it just depends on the principal and teachers what day they want to do first. As for my school we decided on Sports Day. I arrived at school Thursday morning to find the students their bright and early and ready to go.  There were two teams, the red team and the white team. Each with players from grades 1-8.  There were many events. There was: the flag race, coconut gathering, eating contest, ball throw, ball roll, and tug of war.  The day was a huge success. Both teachers and students had a lot of fun. Some of the parents and older sibilings came to help out and watch all the races. It was a pretty good day.

The Red Team

The White Team

The Flag Race

Coconut Gathering Competition

Food Eating Contest

Ball Rolling Contest

Barefoot and playing

Tug A War Contest

Mother's Day in Samoa

Mother’s Day, a highly celebrated holiday here in Samoa. So much that everyone gets the following Monday off from school. For me, the forecast for this day started a week before. It all started when I was at the monthly meeting of Mother’s in the church congregation. No I am not a mother but this is just one of the many odd things I do to integrate myself into the community. Anyways, I was sitting in the meeting with all the elderly women of the church. They all talk while I pretend like I’m listening and understand what is going on. Finally the faletua, (Pastor’s wife), also the president of the committee looked over at me and told me that the group was going to be performing a dance during church next Sunday for Mother’s Day. She said that I too would perform the dance. Well you don’t argue with the faletua because then you would for sure be displeasing god, so I put on a smile and nodded my head complying with her. We were to have dance practice a few times that week prior to church on Sunday. I spent the next few days worrying myself about this dance. I knew that during that dance I would be the one everyone was staring at, even though there were going to be 12 other women up there. I called my host mother the night before the first dance practice to ask her what time I needed to be there. She said that I didn’t need to go because I was not  a mother. “Obviously I’m not a mother,” I thought to myself. I sighed with relief and was jumping up and down on the inside, but managed to keep cool while still on the phone with my host mom. Before we hung up she said that she wanted me to come over for measurements because she was making me a puletasi for Mother’s Day. Pulatasi’s are the standard wardrobe for women to wear. You wear them to church, work, any kind of professional/respectful place.  The next day I went over there to give her my measurements. She was making me an all white puletasi. White puletasi’s are always worn to church. No matter the congregation. Methodists, Catholics, EFKS, they all wear white. The women also wear these big white hats as well. They remind me of the hats women used to wear (or maybe still do) to the derby.  During the week I decided to get my host mother a gift for mother’s day. I went into Apia on Friday, and I was shocked at what I saw.  The main strip of Apia was packed with tents where people were selling all sorts of things. Kind of like a flea market. All the tents had everything from pulatasi’s to jewelry to plants.  I was relieved because I knew these new tents were going to make shopping for a gift a lot easier than I had expected. I ended up getting a pair of yellow flower earrings and a matching ……. Saturday night I got a call from my host mother saying that I needed to come over before church so I could try on my puletasi to see if it fit. Why I was trying it on a half hour before church was besides me. Its not like any major adjustments would have been able to be made if they needed to be. Nevertheless I did what I was told.  Luckily the new church appropriate, all white puletasi turned out great, and no adjustments were made. The Mother’s Day church service ran an extra hour and a half later than normal. The women’s committee read passages from the bible instead of only the pastor reading.  At the end of the service all the women from the committee went up to the front of the church. They sang a song, but no dance. I was very confused, and when I asked later why they didn’t do the dance. My host mom said that they never ended up having practices. I can’t say that I was very surprised.  Because one of the many things I’ve learned is that here, things usually do not go according to plan. All in all, a one day holiday turned into a nice three day weekend, and one eventful week.