The Month of March

This month has been an emotional rollercoaster. I’ll start with the positives.

The Highs:

*My students: They’re great! I mentioned in a previous post that I have 9 groups and I work with each one twice a week, along with co-teaching on Fridays. Right now I’m focusing on alphabet recognition with most of my groups, and phonics with the others. I was brought to tears during a session with a Year 4 group last week. Why? Because I saw how happy and excited my students were, as they were playing a game I created for them. It brought tears to my eyes—a sincerely happy and emotional moment for me, confirming why I’m here. I had to compose myself, though because I didn’t want my students to see me in an emotional state; they would have thought they did something wrong, and trying to explain that the tears were that of joy may have been difficult and confusing for them. So what did I do? I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and continued to smile in amazement.

*English Club: We had our first meeting last Thursday. Out of the 108 students registered at my school, 40 students were in attendance. It was a success, and I’m pretty sure I had the most fun! I look forward to our weekly meetings. I’ll go into more detail about the club in a later post.

*Understanding Samoan! My host mother was talking to me the other day, in Samoan, and I understood in its entirety. It was an awesome moment! There’s still a lot of Samoan I don’t understand, but this moment gave me hope that I will come close to fluency by the time my two years of service is up.

*One of my favorite things to do is surprise people. As I was hanging my clothes on Saturday, my host mother asked me how I made the soup I shared with them last week. Turns out they loved it! So I skipped Sunday service to make soup for the to’onai (Sunday lunch). The soup I made contained split peas, pearl barley, lentils, carrots, onion, garlic, pasta, and eggplant. Eggplant is my obsession these days. Anyway, my host family loved the soup, and was appreciative of the gesture.

Now, the Lows:

The month of March is special to me because it’s my birth month, as well as my mother’s and three close friends. Last year, I spent the entire month celebrating my birthday (actually, I do that every year), and getting ready for my Coachella trip, which has a few weeks after my birthday. The year before, I took a Spring break trip in March; my cousin and I celebrated our birthdays—a late celebration for her, an early celebration for me. In addition to the trips that I take around my birthday, there comes the celebration with my family; it’s a huge deal. There’s always a dinner, along with cake (topped with candles, of course), and gifts galore. My family goes out of their way to make sure that each birthday is a special one. Then there’s the celebration with friends, consisting of dinner and dancing, usually the weekend before or after my birthday. Yes, this all sounds wonderful, so you may be asking why it’s in the “lows” part of the post. The reason why is because I’ll be celebrating my birthday alone this year. Several weeks ago, I mentioned to my host mother that my birthday is coming up. I learned during PST (Pre-Service Training) that birthdays aren’t celebrated in Samoa, unless it’s a 1st birthday, 21st birthday, and another year that I can’t remember. I won’t remind my host family on March 27th that it’s my birthday because I don’t want them to feel like they have to do anything special for me; I don’t want to put that burden on them, so I’d rather keep quiet.

Now that I think about it, this year’s birthday will be like the start of last year’s birthday. I was volunteering at a homeless shelter on my birthday last year. Not a single person at the shelter knew it was my special day, so that morning felt like an ordinary one, until I got home—breakfast was waiting for me from my favorite restaurant, and flowers were delivered to me from my favorite flower shop. That evening was spent with my family, a close friend, and her family, consisting of dinner, cake, and gifts, as described above, then I spent some time with a special person; it was a beautiful birthday.

What will this year’s birthday be like? I don’t know. It’s on a Wednesday, which means I’ll be teaching for a majority of the day. I spend some Wednesday afternoons washing clothes. Maybe I’ll skip laundry that day; bucket washing on my birthday sounds like a horrible idea. I’ll probably walk to the store in the next village and treat myself to ice cream, sit on the beach, and ponder on life, while trying to answer some questions that have been floating around in my head; questions relating to my personal and professional life.

This year will be my first solo birthday, without family and friends by my side, and it’s sad to think about. It reminds me of John Mayer’s song titled “St. Patrick’s Day.” One line says: “No one wants to be alone at Christmas time.” He should have added: “and for their birthday” because in my opinion, it’s equally as sad. Yes, I’m aware that I’m feeling sorry for myself, but every time I think about it, and it’s been a lot lately, in addition to thinking about missing my mother’s 50th birthday celebration, I can’t help but feel sadness, and I think most people in my situation would feel the same way. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is filled with many highs and lows. I’ve only been here for five months, and have experienced some of the happiest and saddest moments of my life; it’s been emotional whiplash, to say the least. But it’s all part of the ride, and I’m growing with every experience I’ve encountered, whether it has been a positive or negative one.

And there is a positive to this: eventually, my birthday will be celebrated. Originally, my birthday was going to be celebrated with some PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) on March 29&30, in Apia, but that’s Easter weekend, and I hear that Samoa shuts down for the holiday. So my birthday celebration will be postponed until early April, during Term 1 break from school. I look forward that.

I know that spending time on the beach, on March 27, will help the sadness I’ll feel on that day. After all, not many people can say that they’ve celebrated a birthday on a tropical island, in one of the most beautiful countries in the entire world. 

In a Fishbowl

“‘O fea ‘e te alu i ai?” (Where are you going?) is a question I get asked everyday, multiple times a day by people that are complete strangers. “‘Ou te alu i le a’oga” (I’m going to school) or “loku” (church) or “maketi” (market) or “fale’oloa” (store) or “savali” (walk) or “e ta’ele” (to swim) are my typical responses. Other times I hear: “Malo, Lina*” (Hi, Lina) or “Fa, Lina” (Bye, Lina) said by people I swear I’ve never seen before, yet they know my name. My village has about 800 people, and they all know my name. I’m by no means complaining, and I know it’s part of the Samoan culture, but it takes its toll when I can’t walk without someone wanting to know where I’m going. I come from a culture where strangers don’t care where I’m going, so getting asked numerous times each day is a huge adjustment. And I’m not saying that Samoans are bad people because they want to know where I’m going. Samoans are some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met, and they welcome Peace Corps Volunteers with open arms; it’s just something I have to get used to.

If you haven’t realized from this post, or my previous posts, the concept of privacy is non-existent in Samoa. I have my own house, but it has 5 sets of windows. My house is tiny, so the windows pretty much take up the walls. If someone is standing outside of my house, they can hear what’s going on inside: my phone conversations, the music I’m listening to, the shows I’m watching on my laptop; everything can be heard. I was sick last month, and my host family and I were able to have a conversation while I was lying in bed, and they were standing outside of my house. My windows were closed, too. So while I have my own house and space, I still feel like I’m living in a fishbowl.

This is when Apia comes in. Apia is the capital of Samoa. It’s by no means a large city; I wouldn’t even call it a city; it’s a town. But after being in the village for a month, it feels like a whole other world. It's nice to be able to walk the streets without people knowing my name, or without them caring to know where I’m going; it's nice to feel like an ordinary person. I went to Apia on Saturday, to meet up with some PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and RPCVs (Return Peace Corps Volunteers). We went to see Audiopharmacy play. They’re an American Reggae band, currently touring the South Pacific. If you’ve never heard of them, look them up. They put on a great show! So back to the night: It was nice to speak English, wear clothes I brought from the States (they’re not proper village-attire), eat nachos, have a few drinks, and dance the night away… until midnight that is because that’s the time everything shuts down in Samoa. 

Audiopharmacy 

The guy to my right is a member of Audiopharmacy

I also mentioned drinks. Drinking it not appropriate in the village, especially for females. My host family offers me alcohol every so often, but I politely refuse saying, “leai, fa’afetai” (no thank you). I don’t want to drink in the village because for one: everyone in my village would find out about it, and two: it’s nice to limit drinks to special occasions only.

If you have the impression that I hate village life, then you’re wrong. I actually enjoy being in the village. It’s nice to live in a small community that isn’t always rushed. Life slows down here, compared to life in the States. Samoa is the place to enjoy the sight and sound of the sea, gaze at the stars, or sit down and read, without the feeling/guilt like you should be doing something else, something productive with your free time. But every so often, I need a break from being the center of attention and living in a fishbowl; sometimes I need to feel like the average Joe, and that’s when I escape from village life, even if it’s just for a few hours.

*My Samoan name is Lina. I’m not sure if it’s mentioned in my previous blog posts.