It is not very surprising to
me to realize that many Americans don’t know about the US territory of American
Samoa. Being a US territory is an interesting position; American Samoans are US
nationals, not citizens, meaning they have US passports, birth certificates,
and social security cards, are allowed to fight in US wars (and many of them
do), but are, for the most part, self-governing and are citizens of their own
state, Amerika Samoa.
The history of the Samoan
islands is incredibly complicated, mainly rooted in colonial superpowers
squabbling over Samoan harbors for military use. Before WWII, Savai’i and
‘Upolu (formerly Western Samoa) were colonies of Germany. After WWII, these
were Samoan islands were “taken” from Germany and became UN Trust Territories
administered by New Zealand. The islands of Tutuila, Ofu, Olosega, and Ta’u
(formerly Eastern Samoa) had been US territories since 1900 when the high
chiefs of these islands signed a deed of cession, which agreed to allow the US
use of the ports if the US protected the rights of the natives. Tutuila, Ofu,
Olosega, and Ta’u—now known as Amerika Samoa—have remained a US territory ever
since.
For 113 years, “Western” and
“Eastern” Samoa have been divided along lines that they did not create
themselves. Although American Samoans and Samoans speak the same language,
generally eat the same foods, follow the same customs, go to similar churches,
and live similar lives, the realities of these islands are inherently situated
in colonial military history.
Unfortunately our group was
only able to stay in Amerika Samoa for three nights. As I mentioned earlier, I
traveled back in time to get to the island, which is only half an hour by plane
(a very small plane). Landing in the Tafuna Airport (a very small airport),
everything seemed to be the same. The landscape was similar and the airport was
one I would expect to see in Samoa, but upon entering the baggage claim, I was
hit in the face by a wall-sized Ford Motors advertisement with a backdrop of
the American flag.
Driving to Pago Pago
(pronounced pahn-go pahn-go) I began to notice the difference. Not only were we
finally driving in the right side of the road again, but everything here was
bigger: bigger cards, bigger houses, bigger buildings, and bigger people. The
roads were paved nicely and we caught glimpses of Pizza Hut, McDonalds, and KFC
along the way. It definitely had a more familiar feel to it, but in an
indescribable way.
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| The most American housing I'd seen in months |
We were stationed at American
Samoa Community College (ASCC) and that’s when I really felt at home. It was a
lot like a community college campus you would see in the states and most people
were speaking English, even in their private conversations. We were hosted by
the Student Association for
Fa’asamoa (SAF), a student group that performs songs and dances and a
variety of others things in order to keep the fa’asamoa (the Samoan way) alive. I was lucky enough to be hosted
by Vailuluu, or Vai—her spunk and attitude gave me energy throughout the whole
trip. We really got along, so well in fact that I’m hoping to figure out a way
to visit Amerika Samoa in the next few months.
Vai and I took the bus from
the college to her village of Atu’u, the home of the Amerika Samoa StarKist
cannery. It’s also the home of the Amerika Samoa StarKist cannery smell. On the
way to her house it wasn’t hard to miss the cannery (and at least her house was
far enough up the mountain to evade most of the smell). Factory workers crowded
around the small shops of her village street—some American Samoan, some Samoan,
some from Vanuatu, some from China. For the most part I’m not one for canned
tuna but at home StarKist is all I’ve seen. Of course this cannery is one of
many but it was a little disconcerting and strengthened my general disinterest
in canned tuna.
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| Vai and me! |
Before going to Vai’s house,
we went to her church’s Easter performance practice. A room full of about 50
American Samoans shuffled and turned toward the unexpected pālagi as she walked into their space. People stared me down and
the girls around me, Vai’s friends, were immediately interested in who I was
and why I was there. They commented on my blue eyes first of all, and I laughed
as I vaguely understood them talking about me with Vai and hearing her
response, “e lo’u kausona,” she’s my
cousin.
Vai’s home was up the
mountain on a steep set of stairs with different fale breaking off at different paths. The village was literally
built into the mountain, where someone’s front (paved) “yard” was another
person’s driveway, which was another person’s backyard. We stayed in her
sister’s house with her sister’s husband and three children. Up the mountain
was where her mom and dad and several brothers (I actually never counted how
many) stayed with various children and other people. Vai moved between these
homes as is common in Samoa. We spent the night dancing and giving the pālagi pointers on the Samoan dance we
would perform the next day and gorged ourselves on the American junk food I had
missed so much like oreos and Doritos.
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| View from the porch of Vai's house |
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| Vai's house! |
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| Stairs up the mountain |
The next day was filled with
lectures concerning more
fa’asamoa
like cultural films and discussions. At lunch we had yet another
fiafia to be exchanged with the students
of the SAF. We performed the same dance as in Lotofaga but were embarrassingly
bad at it this time around because we hadn’t practiced in a month. Regardless,
the students were so much fun with their
sāsā
koko sāmoa. When I have better internet I'll upload the video!
The next day we hiked Mount
‘Alava. Although it wasn’t the most beautiful hike I’ve been on in Samoa, it
was certainly the hardest. Seven miles in three hours of mostly uphill terrain
in the Samoan humidity is not something I’d really recommend. The view from the
top was outstanding though, and the top of the mountain actually was directly
above Vai’s house. It was the view I was used to from outside my house, but
just higher up. We were able to see the whole Pago Pago Harbor with the reef
and everything. On the way back down two of us cut our legs slipping on the
rocks, but luckily there was American medical system to the rescue.
Our last night, funny
enough, was spent watching G.I. Joe the movie in the Pago theater with all the pālagi and their hosts. I wasn’t
thrilled about the movie choice (and it actually ended up being ok), but it was
the first time where I felt completely in America. With popcorn and M&Ms,
shrouded by the darkness of a familiar setting, there was no reason to believe
that I was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles away from
American shores. What’s better, we went to Carl’s Jr. for dinner after the
movie.
Our last day was a little
bitter because we quickly realized what a short amount of time we were given to
explore Amerika Samoa. After a few more lectures and an excursion to some lava
fields near the college, we had lunch with the students and watched their dance
practice. Again, I was overwhelmed with how magnificent their dancing is. It’s
hard not to be impressed with the grace and complexity of these dances, all in
unison.
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| More lava fields |
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| Some of the other hosts |
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| Vai dancing beautifully |
Throughout the trip, I would
meet people from many aspects of Amerika Samoa (or at least Vai’s Amerika
Samoa). The sister we were staying with actually worked for the government and
had some insight on one viewpoint of Amerika Samoa’s position within the US.
Because of the history Hawai’i has with moving from a US territory to statehood
has convinced her that Amerika Samoa should be spared the same fate. The difference
between Hawai’i and Amerika Samoa, at least, is that the culture is alive and
rich. Samoan is the primary language of each home, the customs are breathing in
the clothing, food, and interactions, and for all intents and purposes everyone
still identifies as Samoan. This is key: as a US territory, Amerika Samoa has
become an entity of its own. The few people I spoke with openly stated the
distinct difference between themselves and “Western” Samoans (as they are still
called).
I noticed it too, especially
in my own behavior. It was almost too easy to slip out of my newly formed
Samoan skin I’ve been working on and act and talk in the way I do at home. The
Samoan students were incredibly adaptable and supported this role in us; they
wanted to talk about the same things we did. Their conversations with each
other consisted of pieces of Samoan and English here and there. They used their
iPads to connect to WiFi in Carl’s Jr. to find us all on Facebook.
Not that it should, but none
of this bothered me. In fact, I really liked it. I felt I had reclaimed a piece
of myself that had been unused for the past few months despite my (rather
constant) contact with the other pālagi.
I think it’s very telling of the pieces of my own culture that I crave for.
It’s hardly the fast food, but more the shared reality of how the world works
and my own place in it, and the things I’m interested in doing within that
place. Things like Facebook, although they are very present in independent
Samoa, are discussed and understood in a very different way that has a pretty
distinct flavor of foreign. In Amerika Samoa, it tastes a bit more
recognizable.
And why, I have to ask
myself, was I more bothered by this in Hawai’i than in Amerika Samoa? Think
about it: a very similar process is happening that can be described as
“Americanization,” where Amerika Samoa—for better or for worse—is being
squeezed into the vortex of American food, language, dress, interests, and
social lives. The reality of tourism in Hawai’i frustrated me to the point of
disgust, but seeing it in Amerika Samoa at this point in my trip was liberating
and nostalgic. I know some of it has to do with Amerika Samoa’s conservation of
the fa’asamoa, a privilege that
native Hawaiians were not granted through their history with the United States.
But another part of it has to do with me and my intrinsic Americanness. I’m
starting to see and feel the parts of fa’asamoa
that I want to bring back with me to my fa’aamerika,
and those that I don’t want to bring back. Through all of this, I’m a bit
confused—as I always am—with who I am in this place or that place. Although
this trip was a remarkably positive experience with Vai who showed me so many
parts of her life, I came back with a sour taste of enjoyment and aversion to
something so familiar yet so foreign.
Arriving in Apia, we took
the weekend at another beach
fale spot
on the southeast side of ‘Upolu, in Lalomanu. Mickey, Amy, Meg and I enjoyed
the weekend of relaxation, and it felt powerful to be able to go around the
island on our own without so much as a second guess. We met Mika, a man from
Tokelau that happened to be the former student of our academic director, Jackie.
He might have been the funniest and most lively Pacific Islander that I’ve met
to date, and that’s saying something.
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| Taufua beach |
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| Mika our new best friend |
I send my love!
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