Taboo and Otherwise

Every once in the while I get punched in the face by a Samoan contradiction. I turned in my absentee ballot the day I left for Group 81’s Peace Corps Staging in Los Angeles. While the change in geographical climate from San Francisco to Samoa has been daunting, the change in political climate has been equally so. San Francisco, that bastion of hedonism, free love, bleeding hearts, and communism, is nearly as far as one can get from coolly conservative Samoa. But on occasion, the world turns.

The Tahitians left for the airport at 10 tonight, so earlier in the evening my school’s staff and student prefects hosted a going-away fiafia. A fiafia is often an entertainment exchange. One group performs for the other, and then everyone switches. Rather than volleying back and forth tonight, the Tahitians performed a bunch of musical numbers, and then our students reciprocated with their own program.

The Tahitians started off with a haka (pictured above), which I think is a Maori term (?). In any case, warriors or athletes or rugby players or whoever will stand up and perform a haka before battle or a game to pump themselves up. There’s usually chanting, shouting, whooping, and chest-thumping; it’s very male. The Tahitians had a good haka. Their fa’aluma, the guy out in front leading the chant had some amazing moves.

For their second number, they wanted to sing to someone, so they asked for a female student to come up and join them. There was an awkward silence as volunteering to be the girl would have been taboo. Finally, the hormones of one girl, Ruta, beat out cultural adherence, and she stood up and walked to center stage.

Now I’m unclear what happened next, but there was some quiet wrangling among students, some famous Samoan non-verbal communication was had, and then the switch happened.

The Tahitian boys had just gotten into formation; one was standing at the microphone holding up his cell phone, which provided accompaniment. They’d formed a semi-circle around Ruta, but just as they sang their first notes, she stood up and walked back into the audience. Sione with style, poise, and expedience took her spot.

Sione is a young fa’afafine. While he still sits with the boys at assemblies and conforms to the male uniform standards, he carries himself effeminately and, on free-dress days, often shows up in a wig, earrings, and high heels. Today was free dress day, and he was in full regalia.

The Tahitians were unphased. They were fully aware of what had just occurred, but they didn’t seem to care. In fact, the same fa’aluma came from the back and did a very dramatic dance for Sione, and then took Sione’s hand and they danced together.

The crowd laughed. One could argue Sione was simply a freak show and an object of entertainment. In fact, later when our kids got up to perform, the boys did a full number in drag. But Sione wasn’t one of the boys in drag; Sione was being himself. And while there was a comic element to Sione’s dance, it wasn’t taboo at all. And when it was finished, the students cheered.

Coincidentally, the national Miss Fa’afafine Pageant was held last night in front of a sold-out audience. For a place so coolly conservative, there are occasional pockets of progressiveness.

Note: Students’ names have been changed.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

The fa'aluma dances while Sione swoons on the floor.

Our boys doing their haka.

A cooler full of barbecued chickens.

Miss Samoa 2009

My sister and I attended the Miss Samoa Pageant last night. The theme was “Celebrating the Tamaitai Samoa... humility, elegance, purity.” The show ran a little long—upwards of four hours—other than that it was a good time. It was clearly an event many Samoans hold dear to their heart, and being a spectator was eye-opening. Though the event was a great celebration of the beauty and femininity of Samoan women, I feel like the competition could benefit from a few key improvements.

Before I start, I should note I’m a little queasy about the basic premise of a beauty pageant, but I’m willing to level. One might posit last night’s pageant wasn’t a “beauty pageant” because there was a talent portion and an interview factored into the scoring rubric. Duly noted, but it seems like no coincidence the girl who won “most photogenic” also won the pageant. I think more celebratory aspects of the Tamaitai Samoa might be intelligence, perseverance, compassion, strength, conviction, ingenuity, scholarship, etc. It seems like an oxymoron to take pride in humility, but whatever. We argue the chauvinism of such contests another time. I’m willing to accept the celebratory nature of the event. Let’s move on.

First, it seems unfair to have contestants from The States and New Zealand and Australia competing with girls who’ve spent their whole lives here, especially since the interview portion is conducted in English. I’m not saying anyone’s life is tougher or easier as a result of where they grew up, and it’s nice Samoan women living in other countries are invited to the table. I’m simply saying the language of the interview should be up to the contestant or there should be stricter rules about admitting contestants from abroad. I suggested changing eligibility requirements to only allow girls who’ve spent more than half their life in Samoa. Phil called my rule arbitrary. Good point, Phil.

Second, I think the talent portion should include a required talent section to augment the choose-your-own portion. And the required talent should be something authentic like husking coconuts or plucking a chicken or carrying monster pieces of teak a couple miles or cooking up some kokoesi. The point isn’t to highlight diminutive tasks, but to showcase the true traditional tamaitai experience, right? I think the contestants should have to roll up their pulatasi sleeves and get their hands dirty. Phil asked if a siva Samoa might also be a required talent, and I said that could probably just fall in the choose-your-own. And he said a contestant could simply choose to husk coconuts for her choose-your-own. Another good point, Phil.

Third, we could all benefit from more substantive interview questions and answers. It seems like there are two types of questions that were asked last night:

• Light, nebulous questions (e.g. What will you do to help the children of Samoa?); and
  
• Heavy, issue-based questions (e.g. Do you think Samoa would benefit from increased foreign investment?)

. Both of these yielded oversimplified, idealistic answers that were indistinguishable from contestant to contestant. Instead, let’s make it a panel discussion in which contestants are aware of the topics in advance. They can study up (or be prepped), and then they can have a Bill Maher / McLaughlin Group discussion. There’d be potential for tension and argument and in-fighting. Topics could even be formulated to spark conflict and actual debate. Phil fell asleep.

Maybe I’m just trying to force my American perspective on to things. Or maybe I’m trying to celebrate the intelligent, perseverant, compassionate, strong, innovative, scholarly aspects of the Tamaitai Samoa.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















The line to get in last night.
















Amanda and me.
















Our view.
















Perhaps the most entertaining part of the evening was when the fafafine above sang the Linda Rondstadt part AND the Bill Medley part of "Somewhere Out There". It was a well-timed reveal, and her man voice was even better than her woman voice. Then she was joined by the man above for the build up part at the end where the two parts harmonize.
















Contestant #3, Miss McDonald's, during the sarong portion.

















Contestant #1, Miss Samoa New Zealand, doing her "news caster" talent in which she interviewed herself via satellite. I thought it was clever.
















Contestant #4, Jacinta, was the winner. She is very pretty.

Gender Discrepancies in the Classroom

Amanda and Lise created an aesthetically pleasing report on H1N1 Flu. My year 12s have a desktop publishing project due in the next couple weeks, and I allowed my the class to run free in Microsoft Publisher today to explore the program. While a couple of the boys sat around giggling at WordArt, many of the girls diligently put together cohesive, structured mini-projects. In general, this sampling is representative of the gender discrepancies in the rest of my classes: on the whole girls are more likely to be successful in the classroom.

I don't mean to imply all Samoan boys aren't smart or that teaching girls is incredibly easy and teaching boys is difficult. There are many boys in my classes that are witty and clever and seem to have preternatural knowledge of the Microsoft Office Suite. I'm just saying that in general, there seems to be a discrepancy in classroom success that favors girls. My year 13 class is has a 2-to-1 ratio of females to males. 7 of my top 10 students in my year 12 class are girls. It’s even easier to see the discrepancy in comparing the gender make-up of the female-heavy 9.1, 10.1, and 11.1 classes—i.e. classes that rank highest academically—with the male-heavy 9.5, 10.4, and 11.4 classes.

This doesn’t seem to be unusual for most volunteers in the area. In fact, the subject surfaced while waiting for pizza with a bunch of volunteers from Samoa and one serving in Tonga. The discussion started when the Tongan volunteer asked if it was common for fafafine to be well educated, fulfilling the female gender role. We nodded and began to scratch our heads. Why, on the whole, are Samoan girls generally more successful in the classroom?

It seems hardly useful to limit the question to Samoa. I remember when I was an RA in college I had a similar discussion with one of my residents when a report came out showing not only that girls were doing better on the SAT, but that boys’ results were showing a downward trend. I told the resident I was all about feminism, but I couldn't find any benefit in seeing boys falter. She rolled her eyes.

The idea of girls outpacing boys in the classroom is a bit counterintuitive—in the Peace Corps Volunter Reporting Tool, there is a special box to be checked when a project specifically focuses on female education. In many other developing parts of the world, gender inequality invariably favors boys, but here it’s not the case.

I admit I’m not familiar enough with the higher echelons of Samoan society to know whether girls’ dominance in school is reflected in high-level jobs in the public and private sectors, nor does there seem to be much data to show whether this is a new development in Samoa. On the surface, Samoa shows all the trappings of a male-dominant society: the Head of State and Prime Minister are both men, all pastors within the Samoan Congregationalist church are men, etc.

It’s also difficult to speculate about the reasons for the discrepancy. One of Sara’s students wrote a position paper in favor of the statement, “A woman’s place is in the house.” A slightly appalled Sara asked where a man’s place is. “Behind the house,” the girl replied. It is traditional for women to stay home and cook and clean while men go out to the maumaga, the plantation, to work. But this seems like too simple an explanation; particularly in this modern age where students spend most of their time in relatively urban Apia.

And what does all this means for the future of Samoa? In an interview with NPR, Reihan Salam, a commentator who recently wrote an article in Foreign Policy Magazine entitled “The Death of Macho,” talked about how in America 30 years ago, most veterinarians were men, and how today, the industry’s done a complete turnaround and somewhere around 80% of American vets are women. Might we see similar changes in Samoa over the next 10 or 20 years? Time will tell.

Either way, it all comes down to finding the best way to reach each student according to his or her needs. Classroom success depends on the students and the teacher. And I'm working on it.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

















Luana, hard at work on cogent, coherent, independently designed project.

















Unidentified boy exploring the C:\ drive.

Akanese and Fipe

I spent last night in the village, and soon after waking up this morning, I set out with Mele, Oge, Akanese, and Phil’s sister Fipe to the maumaga or plantation. It was baby Leme’s first birthday today, so we needed to pick up some taro and coconuts for the meal along with supplies for the rest of the week. Oge went to work on harvesting the taro, and I shadowed Fipe as she collected coconuts. Akanese tagged along too. I’m honestly not sure which of us was more dead weight.

Fipe was a sport about it though, and I think she enjoyed the company. Peace Corps are minor celebrities in the village, and I think people enjoy it when we take an interest in what they’re doing. Fipe’s English is mediocre, as is my Samoan, so we tried casual conversation for a bit, but then abandoned talking all together, save for commands or jokes.

Fipe is 12 and Akanese is 5, and it’s fascinating how different life is for girls here. Lots of aspects of life in Samoa are different from life in America, but it’s just so striking when it comes to girlhood.

Last night was another siva, and both of them were in their element. Akanese is a bossy little girl, and tends to dictate activities to her friends. Fipe reminds me of my sister in the sense she’s also the boss of all the children under a certain age. I never had any sway over my cousins growing up, but Amanda would show up and they adored her. Fipe and Akanese were out on the dance floor, being cheeky with the boys, being girls.

Cut to the plantation today. As soon as we get there, Akanese picks up a large knife and starts hacking at a bunch of aloe leaves that are sitting in the fale. When we head out to collect coconuts, Fipe pries the large knife from Akanese’s hands and gives it to me. Fipe carries a larger machete. And we’re off.

I notice that Fipe and I wear the same size shoes. Hers are worn; there are holes in the heels of each. But we traipse through the rocky, uneven maumaga for hours. Akanese often goes completely shoeless. And not just on soft dirt and grass. During training, I’d often see her take off in full sprint over jagged lava rocks and loose gravel, completely unphased by the ground under her feet.

As Fipe and I carry coconuts back, she hacks a small strand of the rind off of two, and uses them as strings to tie the coconuts together. She’s still holding the machete, and carrying the third coconut will be awkward. So she thinks about the situation for a beat, and then stabs the machete into the third coconut. Problem solved.

Fipe’s not muscular, but she’s buff. During training, me and Phil and his sisters would sit at their house and play games like the one where one person lays their hands on someone else’s, and the person with their hands on the bottom tries to slap the hands on top before the person with the hands on top can move them out of the way (Does this game have a name? I feel like the entire world plays it, but describing it in words is laborious.). In any case, it was almost not fun to play because Phil’s sisters hit hard. Fipe would nail me with a smack to the back of my hand and it was pain. In fact, as we were rolling into the maumaga, she slapped me in the forehead. Hard. I looked over at her and she only says, “Mosquito,” but with a smile, as though the smack was justified, but also satisfying.

We go back to the house for Leme’s party, and Fipe and Akanese go back to playing the girly gender role that we expect in America. Fipe goes to serve ice cream, and it’s funny how carrying three ice cream cones and a bowl of peanuts seems just as difficult as the three coconuts and a machete.

I hope you’re wearing all your different hats well. Pictures below.

Fipe chopping the top of a coconut for immediate drinking.

Akanese drinking the coconut from above. I really like this picture. The kid's just so photogenic.

Akanese chopping with a knife as long as her arm.

Fipe and Akanese in front of a tu'umao (I think?). It's pretty much giant taro. The part you eat is good. Like the missing link between a taro and a potato.

At one point Akanese and I were seesawing on the trunk of this palm tree. She is the white spot in the middle of the picture. It's difficult to see when the image is this small, but I think the camera's autofocus found something in the middle of the picture and it resulted in this weird fishbowl effect. Kinda cool.

Me eating sugar cane (I think?).

Cultural Exploration 10: Fafafine

The Home Depot on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles used to be open 24 hours when I was at USC, and I found myself there at midnight several times during my college career. On one particular occasion, I think I was buying nails, the woman at the cash register was strangely dolled up. Her hair was neatly feathered, and she wore mascara and lipstick. But underneath all that, her features were mannish. And she had man hands. And though the name “Dolly” was garishly painted on her orange smock, it became obvious that Dolly was born a dude.

In Samoa, there’s a vibrant subculture of individuals like Dolly referred to as fafafine. I never saw any in the village, but around Apia, it is not uncommon to see fafafine walking around town, working in retail, going about their business. I knew a few transgendered individuals in San Francisco, and many of them took hormones, which made the crossover much more authentic and convincing. Here, things seem to be more cosmetic; make-up, dresses, purses, etc., but nothing more than skin deep that I’m aware of.

Given Samoa’s relative conservativeism, the societal acceptance of fafafine is a bit surprising, although “acceptance” may be too strong of a word. They are accepted in the sense that they are allowed to co-exist peacefully in urban Apia. More than that, there’s an annual Fafafine Pageant they show on TV, which I haven’t seen, but I’ve seen adverts. That said, their absence in the village leads me to think their cultural acceptance is tentative. I have heard that occasionally for whatever reason parents will raise a child to be a fafafine. They will dress a boy like a girl and have him cook and clean while the other men head out to the maumaga. So perhaps its cultural roots explain their acceptance in an otherwise conservative society.

In Apia, fafafine is treated like a third gender, which allows for certain behaviours that would normally be taboo. Though I occasionally see it, boys and girls are not supposed to hold hands in public. But a girl holding hands with a fafafine seems to be okay. Homosexuality is not culturally acceptable, but the third-gender status allows for a guy/fafafine relationship to be considered something different than gay. That said, even guy/girl dating happens in the shadows, so it’s not like you see very many couples walking around anyway, let alone guys and fafafine. Also, by extension of the third gender rule and the no homosexuality rule, it is improper for a fafafine to date other fafafine.

I was looking at postcards at a store in town, and I was a bit surprised to find one that had a picture of 3 fafafine with a caption on the back that read, “Fafafine: A playful part of life in Samoa.” I was impressed by that. In San Francisco, I don’t think I ever saw tourist kitsch that highlighted the “playful” aspect of the Castro district.

In my social interactions with fafafine, I’ve found them to be respectful and polite. At clubs, I’ve been hit on in that same way I was occasionally hit on by gay men in San Francisco. It’s a weird blend of caution, humour, and euphemism. It’s flattering and easy enough to politely deflect.

But I have yet to meet one who works at a hardware store.
Tomorrow’s Cultural Exploration: Triduum.

I hope things are well back home. Fafafine pictures below.

Note: It was difficult to get pictures of fafafine because who wants to be the weirdo walking around taking pictures of transgendered strangers?
















Tourists from New Zealand (maybe?) and fafafine.
















Random girl, fafafine, Samoan frat boys?

O Fea Lou Teine?

“Where’s your girl?” In training, we were warned that we’d get this question often, and they were not joking. While I don’t get this question every day, I sometimes get it multiple times a day, so I’m going to say I answer this question about once a day on average. I get this question from my host family, from my pule, from other teachers, from shopkeepers in town, from passengers on the bus, from Peace Corps staff, and from whatever other random Samoan I bump into.

It seems to be the conversation starter of choice; a way to break the ice. And at times I feel like it’s the subsequent conversation when the cross-cultural connections are forged and reaffirmed. Whether or not the question is posed by someone I’m familiar with, the person has lobbed the ball of Samoan conversation over the plate, but the way I swing at the ball determines how it will be played.

The Ground Out

Weak responses yield weak conversation, the weakest of which is, “She’s in America.” You give that answer and you get a disappointed face. You were given a juicy opportunity, and you did nothing with it. The Samoan has little other choice but to respond with, “Oh.” You’ve killed the conversation, which may have been the objective, but in a boring and lazy manner.

The Fly Ball

Another response is “Leai se teine,” I have no girl. This response can be the equivalent of choking or a good sacrifice fly depending on how conversation goes after that. The Samoan is going to hurl it right back at you, “Why not?” If you shrug, you’re out. But if you come back with something matter-of-fact, and you say it in Samoan, the crowd cheers. “E tagata tele!” Too expensive! This results in a pleasant smile. Maybe even a laugh. Your runner on third just scored.

The Base Hit

The easiest way to hit the ball well is to explain exactly where you hypothetical teine is that prevents her from being present at the conversation. A small laugh and “E moe,” she’s sleeping, is a solid go-to. This will elicit a laugh followed by one or two follow up questions. “In your house?” “Oh yes. She sleeps too much.” This is gold. You’ll have them rolling on the floor.

The Homerun

The homerun is like the base hit except slightly more involved and also requires a bit more comic timing. “Leai to'atasi teine. E to'afitu teine… (pause pause)… Le Aso Sā, le Aso gafua, le Aso lua ….” That is, “I don’t have one girl. I have seven girls: one on Sunday, one on Monday one on Tuesday…” This one’s difficult to pull off because my Samoan isn’t that good. The little script above is a little incomplete. It requires gestures and intonation to really bring the joke home, so often, it’s not worth the effort. But when it works, it works well.

It seems like the rule is that the more outrageous my response, the better. Very rarely is the Samoan actually enquiring into my social life. It’s only a conversation starter, and if I can take their lob and hit it back with a joke, that’s sufficient. But even more than that, it’s a sort of social litmus test. Perhaps the ground out isn’t a big deal. But with the base hit comes feelings of good will.

So in the interest of public diplomacy, o fea lo’u teine? E moe lo'u teine i lo’u fale. E moe umi tele!

I hope you’re not sleeping too long. Pictures below. Hope you enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day.
















Police Awareness Programme this afternoon.





















I think these girls were crawling in order to hide from someone in the classroom, but it was bizarre so I took their picture. And then they were embarrassed and giggly.

Boys and Girls

I once held hands with Lara in the backseat of my mom’s car on the way home from a movie. My mom was driving, and my sister was in the passenger seat. Later that evening my mom asked about the hand holding, and thinking back now, I still cringe. I’ve always found the Beatles’ “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” completely relatable, and I found people like Adam and Kristen from high school baffling in their public displays of affection. But here in Samoa, if there’s any dating going on at my school, these kids bring underground to a new level.

Boys and girls separate from each other like oil and water. As you can see in the picture above, they sit apart from each other in the classroom. All of my classes do this without my asking. They eat lunch in unity groups that are foremost determined by gender. They tend to leave school in separate groups.

I admit it’s not that weird that high school students should think that their counterparts have cooties, but coming from America, you expect a lot more interaction. Not only are romantic relationships completely absent, but even casual encounters between one boy and one girl are rarely seen.

From what I’ve seen, most boy/girl relationships fall into one of two categories:

• Über-Professional Relationship. This one I see more in my older kids. They are (teacher-elected) prefects looking to plan a particular school event or high achievers asking each other about notes or studying. Admittedly, I’m not privy to what is being whispered, but the body language in these interactions not open or flirty; it’s straight-laced and to-the-point.
  
• Jenny-and-Huy Wrestlemania. Named after my two friends from college, I see this most in the middle group. It’s that strategy of getting human touch through relatively abrasive and aggressive actions to compensate for the lack of romantic human touch. I’ve seen instances where a boy pushes a girl only to get walloped upside the head by her in return. And it’s the same intensity as Jenny and Huy, where spectators immediately feel the need to excuse themselves. AND they do that same thing where it starts out as a game and then it stops being fun for one of them. But then they always play again the next day…

I should draw a line between domestic abuse and the Wrestlemania thing. Boys are not hitting the girls to oppress them or to make them subservient. The roughness is on both sides, and the male is often the sad puppy who has to whimper away after play got too rough for him.

In fact, from an educational perspective, I haven’t really seen any instances of gender inequality. The ratio of boys to girls is roughly 1:1 in every grade level here. And from what I’ve seen they break out pretty evenly in terms of grades and schoolwork. They are about equally vocal in class, equally scholarly goofus in not doing their homework, and equally trite in coming up with reasons they should be able to turn it in tomorrow.

When it comes to jobs around campus, they fall back in to gender roles—boys will do the heavy lifting, girls will sweep—but those roles seem more defined by society and less by the school environment.

But I still get a little weirded out every time I have them sit on the floor in my class and there is a clearly defined line between where the boys sit and where the girls sit. Like oil and water.

I hope society is treating you a little more solublely. Pictures below.
















Boys and girls sitting on separate sides of the hall at the semi-weekly assembly.
















Stock picture of girls using computers. Notice there's no boys.
















Stock picture of boys using computer. Notice there's no girls.
















Different class with genders sitting separately. I have never asked any class to do this. They just do it.
















This was my spontaneous idea for how to teach secondary vs. primary (or main) memory. See, the refrigerator is the the hard disk drive, and the stove is the RAM, and the table is the processor. Get it? Mostly I'm proud of my doodles.