Magazine Progress

A month ago, this school magazine thing had me losing sleep. In fact, just last week (two weeks ago?) I ranked it number one on my to-do list because it was wreaking so much anxiety on my life. Who knew that meetings were such a good way of getting work done? In fact, I’d say that informal meeting we had at Apong’s house was the catalyst in this whole process. Last Friday’s Picture Day came out of that, and today’s meeting today was an even bigger step forward.

For lack of knowing what to do next, I made a storyboard this morning. I made a tiny page-by-page version of the magazine, mapping out the sequence of content: year 13s through year 9 then staff, etc. I drew up half the magazine on the computer, and then printed out a page of blank pages to pen over tea in the staffroom. But then I figured, why make this a visual thing? Why not just make a list?

The entire magazine is only set to be 40 pages, and it wasn’t all that difficult to list the contents of each page:

1. Title page
   
2. Candid photos
   
3. Message from Pule
   
4. 13.1 Class
   
5. 13.2 Class
   
6. Et cetera

So I did that, including an extra carriage return to denote which pages would face each other. 40 pages, 20 leaves.

I also took the liberty this afternoon of employing 9 year 12 and 13 students to write short 100-word articles for a slew of school events that are slated to get magazine coverage: Rugby, Athletics, Netball, the Field Trip to Mt. Vaea, Culture Day 2009, English Day 2010.

Did you notice a pattern there? Yeah, I think this entire process would be a lot more challenging content-wise if I didn’t have the blog. Really, what is a yearbook, but a less frequent blog with a narrower scope?

In any case, with a working outline and a tentatively abled staff, I’m feeling much more confident about the prospects of the school magazine. I’m pretty sure I can have a good draft finished by mid-September. Things could be worse.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Unbeknownst to me, the staffroom floor was re-tiled on Saturday. No doubt in preparation for the team from the Oceania Games that flies in Saturday morning.

This one's going up a little late. This is Erica, K8, and Erin posing with the soccer trophy we briefly stole from the Australians. Yeah. We lost to the Aussies. Embarrassing, I know.

Christmas in August

I left my house twice today. I couldn’t find the motivation to put on a shirt before I took out the garbage this morning, which resulted in a tongue-in-cheek “Seki ā lou tino,” sweet body, from one of the boys who lives on campus. Then later on this evening after my propane stove ran out of propane, I walked up the mountain to purchase a chicken salad wrap from one of the nearby pizza places. Yes, when it rains on a Sunday, it’s hard to find any reason to go anywhere. I made some phone calls and talked to people back home, and that was nice. But I think the highlight of my day was Northern Exposure, season 3 episode 10: an episode entitled “Seoul Mates”.

From the DVD’s description of the episode:

Cicely townsfolk await the pageant of the raven, the town’s annual Christmas rite, and this means a first ever Christmas tree for Joel, unexpected time alone for Maggie, a nostalgia for past holidays for Shelly, and a new family for Maurice.

This particular episode won an Emmy for outstanding writing in a drama series, so it’s got qualified brilliance, but I think it hit me on more of a gut level this afternoon.

I miss American Christmas. Don’t get me wrong: experiencing Christmas here in Samoa has been educational, and I’ve had some enjoyable times, but it’s hard for it to feel festive amid the tropical heat.

I also feel like my Christmas experiences here have either been either too heavy on the Jesus (e.g. laying it on thick at midnight mass) or too heavy on the secular (e.g. radio mixes mashing “Feliz Navidad” with the Black-Eyed Peas’ “My Humps”). Is there no middle ground?

Also, since Thanksgiving isn’t a thing here, and Halloween isn’t much either, there’s no official start to the Holiday Season. It’s like sometime around September, someone fishes out their copy of the Mariah Carey Christmas Album, and just thing like that, things have begun.

I won’t bore you with my reverence for Northern Exposure, but I will say that this afternoon’s episode captures all the best parts of the American holiday season: the cold, the pluralism, the music, the fun. But it also has that overarching Peace-Corps-like tone with the stranger-in-a-strange-land premise and the relative isolation. In short, it made me look forward to being back in America for Christmas this year.

I’m still queasy about my return home in a few months, and anyone who knows me knows I detest starting the Holiday season too early. But I guess I just felt a warm wash of anticipation this afternoon. The malls, the cold, the red cups at Starbucks, the Drifter’s version of “White Christmas”. It’s going to be a good time.

Yeah. So that was my Sunday.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

The Letter

The idea was romantic—not the love and un-platonic companion- ship candle- light-dinner romance, but more the lofty, idealistic romanticism. I synced my iPod, put my notebook in my backpack, and headed down to the seawall. Though it’s raining now, the sun was out this afternoon, and I didn’t have much to do today. And since I’d received a rare hand-written letter in the mail earlier this week, this afternoon seemed like an opportune time to draft my reply.

My friend is an amazing writer. Bona fide. She’s a Ph.D. candidate in English at Berkeley. And without getting into specifics, I can say that her letter had this tangible sense of place. Part was written at an art museum, another at a cafe on Telegraph Avenue. So I thought I would return the favor by leaving my house to write back to her from an interesting environment around here. Where better than the seawall?

The seawall lines most of Apia Harbour, starting in the east at the shipping docks in Mata’utu, meandering along Beach Road, jutting out behind the Government Building, wrapping back in around the fish market, and riding into the sunset in the west all the way into Mulinu’u, which literally translates to “the end of town”. From what I hear, the seawall was constructed fairly recently after the last batch of hurricanes battered Apia’s waterfront severely enough a barrier needed to be put in place. It’s scenic and tree-lined, and there’s enough shade to keep a person comfortable in the early afternoon.

The Harbour is about a 10-minute walk from my house, although getting to the greener shadier area takes another 10. Heading over, I remembered I had my iPod with me, and I had Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” rolling around my head, so I played that. The popular fashion in Apia is to wear one ear-bud, and let the other dangle aimlessly. I’m a slave to fashion.

Saturday afternoons in Apia are a lazy affair. The shops have closed for the rest of the weekend, and the nightclubs haven’t yet opened. Constructions sites are quiet, and the roads are empty. Crossing the bridge at Mulivai, I waved to some girls sitting in the shade of a coconut tree near the Samoa Tourism Authority.

I was in no rush for anything, so I had time to be selective about choosing a spot. A bench seemed like too much to ask for, but I wanted something a little bit away from anyone else, and shade and grass were important considerations.

In the end I found a nice shady tree, where the grass was a little long, but not too bad. There was a lady sitting in a van reading the Samoan Observer nearby, but she didn’t bother me.

I reached into my bag and found my notebook, and I scrounged for my pen. My pen. Where’s my pen? I didn’t bring a pen? I just put on this whole charade walking 20 damn minutes down the seawall in tropical sunlight, and I forgot my pen?

The idea was romantic.

I hope you’re well. Picture below.

The Mata'utu skyline as seen from behind the Government Building.

Picture Day

Okay. This post is going up a day late, and I apologize. I was going to write the customary 500-word post about Picture Day, but I figure I'll just show you a bunch of the pictures I took, and we'll call it even. I have been taking class photos here and there, but we decided to finish things up in one fell swoop. We also took nearly all the staff photos, so teachers had to come wearing their togiga. In the picture up top here, you can see Maryhellen sitting in the background.  She was my assistant for the day, chosen on the fly. All photos in which I appear were taken by her. Enjoy.

The entire staff.

Faavesi and his year 12.4 form class.

The science department. Me on the left.

The English department. Me top center.

Thanpuii and her year 9.1 form class. I had to break with the 1:1.667 aspect ratio to fit the flag in, but doesn't it look good?

The student prefects.

My pule and vice pule. I think this picture turned out awesome. I'm quite proud of it. My vice pule hated it. Oh well.

Odds and Ends Thursday 64

Last night I dreamt I wrote a draft of a fairly controversial blog post and inadvertently set it live. In the dream people were texting me to make sure everything was okay, and it all felt pretty real. When I woke up this morning, I was alarmed and confused, and it took a couple minutes to convince myself the whole thing didn’t happen. 12 hours after the fact I’m still not convinced. Here are some other odds and ends from the week:

• In my year 12 class today, some of the boys were singing “Lovefool,” which took me back to 1997. At one point I stopped them to correct them on lyrics, and they looked at me slightly annoyed and said, “Okay, Justin Bieber.” Get it straight, goof balls. That’s the Cardigans. There is no Bieber.
  
• ”Northern Exposure”: easily one of the five best shows of the 1990s.
  
• I know I’m joining the party about 6 months late (as is the usual), but I really like Shakira’s “Waka Waka” song now.
  
• Apparently some team is coming to stay at our school for the Oceania games. This will entail:
  
  
  • The cancellation of school next Friday (i.e. the day of the PSSC CAT for my year 13s, the test we’ve been gearing up for since February; and
    
  • Teachers coming in at dinner time in a 3-day rotation through the last week of school and the first week of break.
  I’m really excited.
• I got a stamp! Charges d’Affaires Robin had one! Mail sent. Thanks to all those who offered to send one. Much appreciated.
  
• My year 13s have their big PSSC Common Assessment Task next week (as noted above), but we’ve been practicing and practicing for weeks now, so on Tuesday the kids showed up and a bunch started watching some collection of goofy YouTube-esque videos that someone brought in. And even though their test is next week, I think we were all relieved to take a break from studying to watch guys getting hit in the crotch with a football.
  
• A bunch of us had pizza and beer with RPCV John 6 (Yeah. Group 6.) tonight. While he was away from the table, we all talked about how his stories from back in the day are waaay better than our stories from now.
  
• I bought deodorant today. What a bizarrely priced item. There are no roll-on sticks in this country; only small plastic tubes with a rolling ping-pong ball on the end. They’re tiny (50mL), and they go for roughly $7WST. There aerosol spray is 250mL, and sells for about $11WST. It’s five times bigger and less than twice the price!
  
• Actually, that was a lie. They sell Secret in roll-on stick form here. It’s strong enough for me, but in my opinion, the pH balance is way off.
  
• The math teacher I sometimes sit next to at Interval has been asking me lots of calculus questions lately. Apparently this is the first year it’s required on PSSC math, and she genuinely seems excited to learn it. But I don’t know any calculus. We mostly just read the book together, and I nod when she asks me questions to confirm what the book says. Speaking of that, can anyone verify that integrating is the same as getting the anti-derivative?
  
• Tonight was our last soccer game. We lost 3-1. We were down 5 players to 7 during the entire opening half though, so it seems like it should have been a lot worse.
  
• When we were at Tafatafa on Sunday, there was a burly group of Kiwis a couple fales over, who started a game of touch-rugby. Much like tough-football (American), in touch-rugby, you don’t tackle anyone; you just touch them, and the play ends. So I figure, why not? I’ll play. No more than 10 seconds into the game, Dude body-checks me in the nose, blood trickling through both nostrils. And that was the end of my touch-rugby career.

That’s all I got for this week. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Dan opening a coconut with a piece of firewood at Tafatafa.

Athletes hamming for the camera the afternoon before last Friday's Champ of Champs athletics meet.

I was in the neighborhood near Samoa's Accident Compensation Board this afternoon.  Judging from their wall sign, it appears they've had a few accidents.

Singing Test

As with many of the activities I do with my English class, I stole the concept from Señor Martín. I teach English to my Samoan students the way he taught Spanish to his American students. It’s not exactly the same, but there’s some overlap. If nothing else, the singing tests brings closure to studying the lyrics and melody of a song, and it’s always fun to watch the kids squirm a little when they have to get up in front of the class to perform.

The test essentially works as follows. After I’ve taught the lyrics and the melody and I’m satisfied with students’ comprehension of those things, I schedule a test. The test consists of groups of around 8 students getting up in front of the class and performing the song. No one gets graded for anything other than participation, but pride is a strong motivating factor, and most students are willing to put in some effort. When all the groups have gone, the panel of judges (i.e. me) announces the first, second, and third place winners. So far I haven’t given prizes, but I think I might try that sometime soon.

When I first tried this with the class, figuring out groups was difficult. As with most social situations in Samoa, students sit clumped into boys and girls, as though there’s an invisible border. I prefer each group has a similar gender make-up, and I found that having an entire row of students group together was the best way to do this since rows run perpendicular to The Gender Divide.

At the beginning I told the students they had to memorize the lyrics, but this resulted in uneven performances where entire groups would go silent or fade into gibberish for long stretches of melody. So I changed my mind and started allowing students to hold lyric sheets. Staying away from the lyrics sheet earns points with the judges though.

Judging tends to be extremely arbitrary and subjective, I’m not ashamed to say. In fact, the more I ham up the judging the more fun the kids have. There’s a reason Simon Cowell was so captivating on American Idol: people like a reaction. When I announce the results, there’s usually a big crowd reaction, hooting and hollering.

We’ve done this four times now, and the kids are familiar with the routine at this point, and have begun to up the ante a bit. During today’s singing test for Cat Stevens’ “Moonshadow,” several groups used percussionists, and two used conductors to keep the group together. The last group that got up to perform did rather dramatic curtain call. The judges gave them points for style.

With the singing test comes task of finding a new song to teach. So far we’ve done Peter, Paul, and Mary; Herman’s Hermits; The Beatles; and Cat Stevens. Apparently I’m trying to raise a new generation of hippies. I’m thinking Simon & Garfunkel next. “Mrs. Robinson”? It might be difficult to explain the cultural context of “Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio,” but the kids would have a ball with the “Woo woo woo” part. I’ll think about it.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Sometimes the gender homogeneity doesn't work out. Today we had an entire row of boys. They did all right.

This group, the curtain callers, tied for first place with the group in the above-the-fold photo.

This was my chalky hand after my science class today. There's got to be a better way to say that.

Stamped Out

I need a stamp. It’s common courtesy to present a stamped envelope to someone who writes a Letter of Recommend- ation, which means stamping the envelope you send to that person, and then stamping another envelope and folding it up and sticking it inside the first. To do this, one needs a stamp to send to the envelope to the recommender, and another stamp for the recommender to send to the institution. This means I need Samoan postage for the first part and American postage for the second, but where am I going to find American postage in Samoa?

As it turns out, I had a few things to mail from LAX before I left in October 2008, and so I bought a bunch of American stamps in bulk. This Letter of Rec project needs three American stamps, and I had two left. Where do we go from here?

I went to the Peace Corps staff. Now that I think about it, I have no idea why any of them would have American stamps, but it seemed like the most likely option. I was greeted with shrugs. “I don’t know where to find an American stamp.” Then as an afterthought, “Good luck.”

Next stop was the Internet. The Envelopes tool in Microsoft Word has an E-Postage option, which points the user to the Microsoft website, which points the user to Stamps.com, which asks the user to download a program that integrates with Word to print a stamp directly on to the envelope. For whatever reason, hi-speed Internet in Samoa has been dreadfully slow lately, so I sat there for an hour today downloading Stamp.com’s integrated program.

As it turns out, to print E-postage from this program, one needs to be simultaneously connected to a printer and the Internet. Up until now, my life in Samoa has been either/or, and I can’t think of any computer that fits this bill. My laptop can connect to a printer OR the Internet, but never at the same time. All of the computers that can do this—i.e. the ones at the Peace Corps office, the ones at the Internet cafes in town—restrict users from installing programs... like Stamps.com’s integrated one.

RPCV Dylan 77 is flying into Faleolo Airport from Los Angeles tomorrow morning. Dealing with this predicament this afternoon, I was able to catch him in the terminal at LAX. His reply text was adamant, “If you can get stamps in an airport terminal I will.” May the force be with you, Dylan.

An hour later my phone buzzed, “No stamps in the terminal, sorry. :(”

So the game plan from here is tomorrow I will go to the Post Office and ask if they, by any chance, sell American postage. I expect confusion will ensue.

I also just might shoot an email to the American embassy to see if they have any ideas. Or any stamps, for that matter.

Worse comes to worst, I can ask my recommender to spot me the 44 cents.

But who wants to be that guy?

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

This is the desktop of one of the desks in the 10.4 class.

We had a staff meeting at Interval today.

To-Do List

For some unknown reason, Samoa celebrates Father’s Day in August. It was yesterday. And as with every other national holiday, the day after, i.e. today, is also a holiday. There was no school today, and most shops and businesses around town were shut down. As is my end-of-the-weekend habit, I’m hung up on the big picture tonight; focused on the grand scheme. For me at this point, the grand scheme is all about getting ready to leave Samoa. True, I’ve still got 4 months. But I’m thinking grand here.

The following is the list of things I need to do before I leave:

• School Magazine. This is first because it’s the only one I’m truly afraid of. It keeps me up at night. I’m supposed to be heading up the school magazine this year; holding committee meetings, taking photos, putting together a layout. But I’ve never done anything like this before. I never participated in yearbook stuff growing up. I haven’t even decided what program I should use. I guess that’s where the stress comes from: I don’t know what the process will be. I do know that once the magazine is finished, I will start to feel finished. It’s the final hurdle.
  
• Law School/Grad School Applications. Okay, so this one’s a pretty big hurdle as well. I’m working on getting all my Letters of Rec—1 out of 4 received, not bad—and I’ve been struggling with the personal statement for weeks. Most schools haven’t opened their application window yet, so I feel a little ahead of schedule here. That won’t last.
  
• Impart All of My Computer Knowledge to the School Secretary. I have no idea what will happen to my computer lab once I leave. Maybe we’ll have computer classes next year, maybe not. The only tangible things I will leave behind are my automated spreadsheets, which I think are incredibly useful. But they require a working knowledge of Microsoft Excel, and my school secretary’s just not there yet. I got 4 months to get her up and running. Oh, and she’s pregnant, so probably she’ll be on maternity leave pretty soon. This one might be a lost cause.
  
• Finish Books and TV Shows. There’s a lot I want to read and watch. Books:
  
  • The Milagro Beanfield War;
    
  • Genius;
    
  • The Magnificent Ambersons;
    
  • One Hundred Years of Solitude;
    
  • Mao II; and
    
  • Guns, Germs, and Steel.
  TV Shows:
  
  • Six Feet Under (all seasons);
    
  • Deadwood (all seasons); and
    
  • Lost (seasons 5 and 6).
  Books-wise, I still have those 2 on hold that are listed on the side bar. TV-wise, I’m working my way through Northern Exposure right now, which will surely take at least a month to finish.
• Visit Fiji. Or American Samoa again. Technically PCVs aren’t allowed to take vacation their last 3 months in country, so I’m not sure how likely either of these options is, especially since I haven’t done any planning at all. Oh well.

There are other things I’m leaving off this list—packing, tattoos, etc.—but I’m going to chalk those up to logistics and Samoan Bucket List respectively; not list-worthy.

The list looks pretty impossible. Ehhh... I’ll do what I can.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Note: I hate the term “Bucket List”.

Boys playing water rugby in Vaisigano River this afternoon.

AJ at Friday's soccer game.

We Did Start the Fire

Everybody’s got an opinion. During training we played that game where you sit in a circle and draw a picture and then pass your picture to the left. Then you take the picture that’s been placed in front of you and augment the drawing somehow. Then pass again, augment. Pass, augment, pass, augment, pass, augment, until finally you get your original drawing back and it’s warped and bizarre, but somehow it’s the product of the collective. That’s how today’s fire worked.

A bunch of us headed out to Tafatafa on the south side of Upolu to hang out on the beach and barbecue. And right from the start, the barbecue’s outlook was bleak. For starters, we didn’t have a barbecue. We had 18 pounds of chicken; onions, soy sauce, and garlic to marinade; and a plastic bag with not enough charcoal. And no barbecue. Brilliant.

Blakey got things started by asking the family at the next fale over if we could borrow the large rocks and corrugated aluminum they’d used to cook their food. Erin was able to finagle a grill from the owners of the beach fales. Dan then went into bush and came out with an armload of firewood. Paul collected a bunch of dried palm fronds to use as kindling, and Phil and I went in search of small volcanic rocks, which function like reusable charcoal. If I’ve given you the impression this was a neat and orderly process in which we huddled, set out a plan, and yelled, “Go team!”, I’ve painted the wrong picture. This process of gathering materials was deeply unorganized with begrudging participants and probably took about 2.5 hours.

Paul stepped up to build the fire first. My stint in the Boy Scouts is best measured in weeks, so I’m no fire-building expert. That said, I recognize that everybody seems to have their own style of doing things. Paul comes from the Start Small and Build Slowly school of thought. Dan comes from the Throw Everything On So We Can Start Cooking school of thought (His style makes me think of that line from Dances with Wolves where the one Sioux looks at the others and says, “Only a white man would light a fire big enough for everyone to see.”). In any case, there were conflicting philosophies about how best to cultivate the fire.

I found it best to simply try an assist whichever firemaker was up to bat. I helped Paul build a small structure from firewood. I helped Dan build a larger one. I helped Phil fan the kindling. Then I helped Paul stuff the lava rocks between the burning logs.

It was all very tag-team. Someone would come along, add their 2 cents, and then walk away. Then someone else would come along. Augment, pass, augment, pass, augment, pass. Soon enough it became a quality fire with a pretty optimal cooking temperature.

Say what you will about too many cooks ruining the soup, but in the end we succeeded. Out of nothing we came up with 18 pounds of grilled chicken.

Yeah. Mālō mākou. Uma le case.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Paul does it his way...

...Dan does it his.

Lunch with the Missionaries

“My people were headhunters ...until the missionaries came and we stopped in 1872.” Apong spoke these words and then paused briefly to let that one sink in. I’d heard about it before, so I watched Phil’s face to gauge his reaction to this news. He nodded coolly. “That knife I used to cut the pork? Yeah. We used to use that to chop off the head.” Apong clearly revels in telling this story, and I’m pretty sure the detail about the knife is his favorite part. He said all this with glee.

This was just one of many revelations that came out of lunch with the Indian missionaries today. At Interval Thursday, Apong told me he’d acquired some fresh pork and he planned on making his famous Tibetan Momo (his term for something very similar to what we in America refer to as a “pot sticker”) today. He invited me and Phil, who was in town for Champ of Champs, to come for lunch.

Phil and I were quick to accept the invitation, but there was a small amount of apprehension this morning. On the one hand, Peace Corps Volunteers and CWM missionaries are two peas in a pod. We have a common foreigner status, and we can empathize with each other. On the other hand, we’re foreign to each other. And then there’s the whole secular issue. Would this luncheon work?

Yes.

When we arrived, Maengi, Thanpuii, and Rachel (the missionary who teaches at Koa’s school) had formed an assembly line in the kitchen to assemble the momo. Apong was sweating over the stove, his wife Zorin was playing with the baby. But upon our arrival, everything stopped briefly so everyone could shout their greetings. There was love.

Conversation flowed easily. We talked about school and Samoa and riding the ferry and growing up in India and vacations to New Zealand and blah blah blah. We gossiped about our staffs and made wisecracks about life at school. At one point Maengi called my name from across the room, “I want to get a movie from you!”

“Oh right,” I said. We borrow from each others’ libraries on occasion. But to confirm, I asked matter-of-factly, “A comedy with some drama about relationships, right?”

“Yes,” she said.

The room erupted with laughter.

While the momo steamed (in Apong’s 5-tiered steamer he brought specially from home), we took a walking tour of the campus. Apong and Zorin live about halfway up the mountain at a school that was founded in 1891. It’s gorgeous—there’s a babbling brook, ocean vistas, a bamboo grove.

Back at the house over lunch, Apong regaled us with stories about all the different animals he’s eaten. Crocodile, snake, rat, elephant. “ELEPHANT?!” the entire table shouted. “Elephant,” said Apong.

Maengi made a chili sauce from the Raja Mirchi plant Apong in his small garden. Apparently Raja Mirchi are some of the spiciest peppers in the world. Phil and I can now attest to this.

All in all, the event was a great success. Great food, delightful conversation. What’s everybody doing next Saturday?

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

The assembly line. Rachel in the background on rolling duty. Thanpuii in the foreground stuffing and crimping.

Stuffed momo waiting to be packed in the steamer.

The finished product.

This huge tree is out in front of the school, and is said to have a spirit living within it. I made Phil stand next to it in the rain to give some scale to the photo.

Raja Mirchi on the vine.

Champ of Champs

“This is the first Champ of Champs in a really long time,” the Indian Missionaries told me this morning while we waited under the mango tree for Apong to pick us up. None of us was assigned responsibilities for today’s event, so there was no rush to get over there. In fact, I didn’t know what time I was expected to show up (or if I was expected to show up). But I heard Maengi locking her door around 8:15 a.m., and I shouted to ask her if I could catch a ride.

The Champ of Champs, so-called because it is the championship track meet for the top scorers in the regional “zone” meets, was canceled last year on account of Swine Flu, the year before because of student fighting got out of hand at regionals. So going into today, I was a little excited to see a part of Samoa I haven’t seen before.

Then again, you see one athletics meet, you’ve seen them all.

The athletes have a tendency to become extremely faint after crossing the finish line, there’s no shade, and the scene in the grandstand is at least as enthralling as the actual track and field events, if not more so.

Not having responsibilities was good and bad. Since I wasn’t an official at the record-keeping table like I have been the last 3 athletics meets this year, I could wander the stadium freely watching starts and finishes up close, cheering for students from just outside the track’s fence, hanging around with other Peace Corps Volunteers whose schools showed up for the event. On the other hand, having a job gives the day focus—something to occupy my time. No offense to the athletes, but a 6-hour track and field meet can get a little tedious.

Also, I did have responsibilities. I was supposed to take pictures for the school magazine. This ended up being pretty easy because when most people see a palagi with a camera at an event like that, it’s just assumed there’s an official purpose.

While the day flowed much like any other athletics meet, the general feeling was tenser. At USC, football games were mostly a jolly, easygoing affair—except for the higher profile games. Any time we played Notre Dame, things became cold and uptight, like there were grander issues at stake. This was the feeling at Champ of Champs. There was still cheering and laughs, but at the core of things, particularly where the athletes sat waiting for their events, people were on edge.

At one point I went to high-five Linda, a year 12 student who goofed off in my class last year, but is very sweet and an extremely fast runner. But after we high-five, she says, “Sorry.” Confused, I asked what she was sorry for. “I run too slow.”

I wanted to shake her and say, “You qualified for 5 different events in the national championships. I’m not worried about your speed.” But instead I shrugged and pulled out my camera. She smiled in the picture.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Year 10 Rivalina finishes the 400-metre hurdles. Cool shadows, ay?

Supy was a finish-line judge.

Year 9 Nakisa runs the 1500-metre race. I really wanted to get the photo so she is in focus and the background is blurry, but my Sony CyberShot would have none of that.

Student spectators from my school.

Year 13 Maryhellen long-jumping. I'm a little proud of this photo. An homage to Mr. Mac.

Year 13 Lanuola (white top, black pants) starts the 100-metre dash. I'm a little proud of this one too.

You can tell in this picture how the police moved the spectators far back from the track. Yet somehow Blakey and I were allowed to stay.

Year 13 Pene finishes first in the 800-metre race.

Athlete turned fa'aluma Manila dancing for the crowd.

Odds and Ends Thursday 63

This week saw the dawn of August. Phil pointed out tonight that our Close-of-Service Conference will most likely start before the end of this month. Also, the application window for one of the law schools where I’m applying opened August 1. If the beginning of the end hadn’t started before, it’s here now. At dinner Saturday night, a few volunteers knew exactly how many days they had left. I’m sticking with blissfully unaware for the time being. Here are some other odds and ends from the week:

• Did anyone notice I posted twice about Mr. Johnson in the past 2 months? (Here and here).
  
• A note on the word “bowl” (as used in yesterday’s post): No doubt, English is an incredibly difficult language with all of its nuances and rules and exceptions to rules (and exceptions to exceptions of rules). But when the curriculum wants me to teach vocabulary that includes “incantation”, “sinews”, and “precipitous” while my kids are asking for the correct spelling of “bowl”, “friend”, and “chair”, there’s evidence of a disconnect. I didn’t use the example to make my kids sound stupid (they're far from it), and I don’t think English comes easy. I think there are systematic flaws and the students in my 10.4 class got the short end of the stick. I think "bowl" provides a good example of the educational divide.
  
• Good question, Margarita. The Samoan word for soccer is soka (borrowed from American English), but since most of the English speakers around here have a Kiwi or Aussie background, the game tends to be referred to as football when speaking English.
  
• Go back and listen to the streaming audio of Act II of last week’s “This American Life” (Episode #412: Million Dollar Idea). It’s an excerpt from comedian Kumail Nangiani’s (sp?) stand-up routine. Pretty funny. Act II starts just before the 20-minute mark.
  
• I’m supposed to take pictures for my school’s year-end magazine, and so one of the teachers came to my class last Friday to inquire as to why I wasn’t taking pictures of the year 13 Samoan IA. Nevermind I was in the middle of my year 12 class. So I had my year 13 Amanda take pictures. She took 244 photos. I only realized this at Friday afternoon’s wedding when the memory card ran out of space. Sad.
  
• At Interval today, the year 13 maths teacher asked if I knew anything about calculus. I, in turn, deferred to Apong. Apong’s wry response: “I don’t know any calculus. I only know how to be fruitful and multiply.”
  
• Within 10 minutes of the beginning of 3rd period this morning, 2 teachers came to my class to ask me to type something. Then later in the period, a student came to me with a request. Peace Corps Volunteers are forbidden from asking for money, but another volunteer suggested I ask for niu. Great idea.
  
• It’s been cold lately. And by cold, I mean as low as 76°F. It’s weird, because I’m honestly cold at night, but just covering myself with a regular cotton bed sheet is just way too hot.
  
• Correction: PCV Chris took the pictures of the soccer team that I posted Sunday night, but her name was left out of the original post. Matt’s Samoa Blog regrets the error.

That’s all I got for this week. I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Peace Corps engineering. There's been some shuffling of furniture in the Peace Corps office, part of which involved putting up this shelf, which was unstable because of a <1" gap between the shelf and the wall. The solution: hammering a biology textbook from 1986 into the gap. True, the structural integrity is dubious at best, but as an architectural statement, I think it communicates the Peace Corps lifestyle accurately.

On occasion, Scout sits were paws crossed like this. It's dainty.

Check out this outtake photo from Tuesday afternoon of Rachel and Blakey... and a man in the background who appears to be working on a railroad.