The saga continues..

September 23 –
I’m not going to Apia until next week as the funeral isn’t until the 28th. There were a bunch of people here again today. They came to dig the grave, which I admit is kind of a morbid topic but it is all done so differently here I thought I would describe it anyway. First you need to know that Samoan’s bury their relatives in their front yards, and then build memorials on them. Then they “honor” the dead for eternity by sitting on them to chat, allowing the children to play on them, and keeping masses of artificial flowers (still in the plastic bags they bought them in) arranged over the site. Someday when I get up enough nerve I’m going to take some pictures.

Fortunately for me the existing graves here are discretely located and the most impressive one is just a huge pile of lava rocks so none of this quaint custom has affected me until now. So they dig the hole then they pour a cement liner which has a lip at the top to receive the lid which has been poured in 3 sections so they can lift it. After the funeral at the church the pallbearers will bring the coffin here and place it in the grave. They lay a sheet of plexiglass in next, cover it with a “fine mat”, some artificial flowers and perhaps other items, then they put the lid on the box and build their monument on top of it. Since this was a village high chief I suppose that will be memorable.

One other item of note. When they were digging the grave they came upon the remains of another poor unfortunate soul who had not been buried so efficiently. I had gone down to the Komiti house to answer the phone. I came back with a message for one of the women who was sitting in the meeting fale next to my house. I saw that she and another woman had a baby’s bathtub and were washing things from a pile next to them in it and carefully wiping them off. It took a second look to realize that it was human remains they were cleaning. So they finished their job and carefully wrapped all the bones up in a bundle and set it aside to be dealt with after the funeral. Aaack! This cultural immersion thing is about to get me down. Where is the Coroner when you need one?


September 26 –
I sit at the table in my room and watch as two worlds meet at the boat dock. Aggie Gray Hotel’s tour boat has just arrived and is unloading it’s cargo of 10 or so white humans, Aussies or Kiwis most likely, who straggle down the dock in their completely inappropriate western wear and straw hats to keep the sun off. I’ve learned those hats only work if the wind isn’t blowing, and if it isn’t blowing it is entirely too hot to go for a walk anyway, but there they are in the hottest part of the day, about to embark on a 2 hour stroll of discovery around the island.

Meanwhile, crossing the boat channel in a brightly painted yellow and green paopao canoe is a Samoan returning from fishing. A paopao is a small hand hewn dugout outrigger canoe that will seat 2-4 people depending on the size (of the boat and the people I suppose). Usually when fishing they only carry one person. their nets, and some coolers to put the fish in. The reef here is quite a ways offshore and although the paopaos are not taken over the reef they are used extensively for fishing between it and the shore. The larger boats like the ones used to ferry passengers between here and the main island are taken out over the reef in search of larger fish. Either way, the day’s catch goes into coolers and is taken into Apia to sell at the stores and at the fish market.