Matareva Village

A new meaning for hungry, a new meaning for poor. Hungry is having more food than you can eat, and no nutrition. Poor is a communal state, money is a communal commodity. We are all as wealthy as one person's divisions of income amongst us. But my God are we hungry, tired and fat. I slept in a village last night, on a weaved mat next to Halleluia. I was fed as a guest of honour on a meal of corned beef from a tin, a rich bowl of gravy, banana and white bread with butter. The Coco Samoa was delicious, half coco half sugar with water which may or may not have been the cause of my continuing bowel problems.

I want to, but do not understand this culture. I do not know if their motivation to invite me to their village has anything to do with the 50T they obtained from me, or if their curiosity stems from their desire to share themselves or their desire to share in my hilarious ethnicity. I know Samoa is a kind place, but cruelty has it's place in every hidden niche. Children grow up striking dogs, striking cats, killing bugs. Men hit women and women hit kids, like everywhere, violence is rife. Hospitality is expected, and offered, in all instances. No one will ever starve in Samoa, and I believe you would have found a smile (genuine) on every day in history, had you been looking, in every strata, every condition, every circumstance. No one sleeps alone, parental responsibility is shared amongst entire (very) extended families. I was invited to shower 3 times in a day in a 44 gallon drum (which easily beats my shower at home) and there was always some kind woman there to hand me a towel and help me put on my clothes.

Why not go to Matareva Beach with Halleluia? Because I am scared? Because I don't trust what I don't understand? Why then, did I feel so peaceful and blessed sleeping next to a village woman inside a mosquito net weighed down with riverstones? Why am I here?