Dinner with the Governor

Or as I like to call him, "Sir."
Yes, yours truly has had the royal treatment at the Governor's Mansion for dinner. How, you may ask, did this happen? A lowly midwife such as myself? No, it wasn't to receive any honors for my hard work serving the women of American Samoa.








It's because of who I know. If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, "It's all who you know, people." And in this case it was my future husband. You thought I was going to tell you I delivered some important family's grandchild or something right?



















No, it's because Markus likes to dive. And our friend was the Governor's dive instructor. There are few resources on island for dive instruction (Paul and now Jay), few people that dive, and no dive outfitters or excursionists. So Paul and the dive guys are the lucky ones who got to hang with the Governor.







The Governor was apparently a very good student and really enjoyed his experience. He invited his instructors and one very lucky guy with a flexible work schedule (Markus) and their significant others for a "relaxed" (maybe the Gov and First Lady were, I'm not sure we were) dinner at their house. Which is good because Paul wore shorts and flipflops (new flipflops but still).






We were given a tour of the house which was very much like being shown around the White House or something, but the American Samoan version of the White House. The house was recently restored as there had been massive rotting issues. It sounds like it was a down to the studs rebuild and that the Governor was very involved.






We were shown all the Governor's fun collections of rocks, drift wood, art, books, memorabilia and silly gifts from friends. He's apparently a man of many talents, having paid for his law schooling as a traveling Fire Knife Dancer. He was also a free diver in his youth which most certainly made his diving experience easier.







I was a bit taken aback when I got Markus' phone call that we were dining with the Governor. I would usually be planning for something like this days in advance. Of course, I had few clean clothes and I was cursing myself for still not having gotten a puletasi (formal women's dress). I have a bunch of nice respectable dresses but darn if they don't show shoulder (how risque I know!). But I pulled myself together and I had a fun time.




The Governor and First Lady were gracious hosts and Markus and the guys were given a signed book on Samoa.

This is something that NEVER would have happened to me in the states. Definitely one for the blog.

Here is the official press release on the Governor learning to dive.

Turkey Umu

What's an Umu you ask?
Well, it a traditional Samoan oven. It's made by heating river rocks and piling your food under them and then steaming everything under banana leaves. We've never done an umu before and having enjoyed the Roth's Easter Turkey Umu immensely, I decided to do a Turkey Umu for Thanksgiving. The following is a how not to and how to do, an umu (say that 5 times fast!)

Me in my best Martha Stewart pose! "No really, it was no work at all!" Ha.




How Not to Do An Umu
1. Invite lots of people to your house on a major holiday on a tropical island where it rains A LOT and not have a covered outdoor area to make the umu.
2. Leave the carefully gathered river rocks (apparently lava rocks explode when heated-something that would have become glaringly apparent after I had started my umu, if I had not been forwarned) outside while the heavens drench them over several days. These rocks actually cracked and exploded too as it was their first use and they weren't seasoned.
3. Decide the best place to have the umu, is not right out in the open where the rain can come and douse the fire, but snug up against a rock wall under the shelter of a palm tree. Sounded good to me . . . apparently not the best place.
4. Watch as your FH (future husband for those of you not hip to bridal blogging abbreviations) digs a big pit and (very nicely I should say) lines the pit with the river rock all of his own invention! A very bad idea indeed we were to find out. Einstein looks a little concerned. "Don't these guys know how to build an umu?! I'll never get any turkey leftovers at this rate!"
5. Don't buy wood well in advance. Depend on "picking up some crates or something" the day of the big meal, they will undoubtedly be soaked with the previous monsoonal rains the day before. Your dear friends will have to pay with the shirt off their white palagi backs to buy you semi-dry wood on a rainy, Thanksgiving day. Thanks Jay!
6. Don't have a large pile of coconut husks as firestarter for the fire. "WHAT! Nobody told me I needed coconut husks!" Something that is done over a long period of time, whilst enjoying said coconuts prior to them becoming husks.

How to Make an Umu
1. Allow your Samoan friend to come over to help you even though you are COMPLETELY sure you will have things under control.
2. Have an open area (duh, there's lots of smoke with the umu, as if I didn't notice the multitudes of plumes of smoke all over the island on Sundays) to make your umu (covered is preferred but if your Samoan friend brings dry weather with her, then you are good to go).
3. Have a flat board or corrugated tin for the bottom of your umu.
4. Hack a banana tree up into logs and create a square around the umu area.
5. Lay out your wet rocks to dry in the sun (not piled up in an aesthetically pleasing, yet pathetic, display of pride of ownership)
6. Make one layer of rocks in your square.
7. Build a fire with your hoards of coconut husks, kindling and dry wood you've had stored for just this occasion. (Or pull out the charcoal if you didn't do the above and pretend that this is the right way to make a fire-geesh, coconut husks-I'm so sure!) Do you think Fua is asking god what she was thinking offering to help these palagis?



8. Stack your wood in a log cabin style over the base layer of rocks.










9. Pile your now sun dried rocks all over the wood.
10. Let those puppies burn, baby! Your wood will burn down and you'll be left with piping hot rocks. Which you will knock around your umu area until you get to your base layer of rocks. (Pray it doesn't rain at this point and turn your fire into a smoldering heap)




11. Put your food on the Umu. Usually you will have way more food in the umu than we did (I just wanted to do the turkeys and have the rest of the food be US Traditional as we get Samoan traditional all the time) Fua asked me several times if that was all we were putting in. I'm not sure she felt all her hard work was being put to good use.
12. Pile all those hot rocks on top of your food (the food is usually whole foods that have peals you can remove, things wrapped in banana leaves or in tin foil). Big things like pigs and our turkeys often have a rock placed inside to ensure it cooks well.
13. Pile the masses of banana leaves you've collected that day-thus improving your view-over the food.









14. Don't question your Samoan friend when she covers the whole thing with a plastic tarp. Especially when she is walking around with her rock poking stick that she cut down and sharpened herself with a machete.








15. Sit back and wipe your sweaty brow for 2 hours.


















16. Uncover it all.











17. Eat and impress your friends who all tell you the turkey is the best they've ever had.









We had a great feast. We had a ton of people in our house, about 15 adults and a slew of children (too many to count).

As entertainment Matt backed off our driveway and provided the men folk with an opportunity to chin scratch, walk around lookin' at things and then attempt a variety of engineering feats, to have Markus throw on the tow rope and have my wonderful Subby pull the car out! Yeah, Subby!





There was also a fair amount of ruthless Apples to Apples and some cut throat Badminton played that day. Markus broke out his home brew and we ate a lot. Melanie even made pumpkin pie! I think the Turkey Umu will now be an annual event, as I can only imagine doing all that work once a year.

If You Aren't Pissed . . .

Then You Aren't Paying Attention

Here's a little political soapboxing for you. Something I rarely do, but right now, having watched this movie. I have to say I am pissed.

I would like every single one of you out there to stop reading my blog and run out and rent this movie, or at least put in your Netflix que. If you are in AmSam it's available at both Video Plazas.

No really stop reading my blog! Go watch No End in Sight! And then go to their website and read some more.
I feel this movie is not just some liberal propaganda movie about the war. We are talking major figures (Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage, Ambassador Barbara Bodine (in charge of Baghdad during the Spring of 2003), Lawrence Wilkerson, former Chief of Staff to Colin Powell, and General Jay Garner (in charge of the occupation of Iraq through May 2003), speaking for themselves and discussing the horrible planning for postwar Iraq and why we are STILL THERE and why as the movies says, there is no end in sight. A masterful work, really. Please check it out. Not about "not supporting our Troops" but about supporting them by getting them out of a situation that a bunch of ignoramuses got them into. Or at least understanding why they are still there.

And what, you might ask, does this have to do with American Samoa?
I'll tell you what . . .

American Samoa has the most military casualties per capita (this is a calculation to make a small place like AmSam-57663 compare with a big place like Cali-36 million) The actual number is 5 (as of the source on StateMaster which is 2006 data-it's higher now, they just buried another soldier last week) but in a place with a 50,000 population it's too many.

And though the U.S. Nationals in American Samoa can not even vote to get the Chimp out of office, they sign up in large numbers to defend us.
American Samoa is 6th per capita in recruits of all military forces.

I'm not even sure I can say U.S. out of Iraq anymore after this movie, as we created such a mess, we need to stay and clean it up-if indeed it's possible. I just wish so many lives weren't at stake to clean up the avoidable (and that's what really hurts) mess our awful "leaders" created.

If you can't spot the fish at the table . . .

YOU are the fish!

As some of you may or may not know, I own a house in Southern Oregon. This house is in a very nice town and is quietly working hard at earning me equity with which some day I will rule the world (Waaahahahaaa!-"Evil Maniacal Laughter).

When I decided to move to American Samoa I thought it would be a good idea to keep my house as a safety net in case I had to flee the then unknowns of the South Pacific. I rented my house myself feeling like I was doing a descent job of it. That was until a month before I was to move I drove by my house on my way through town. And saw garbage piled high on the side of the house. When I knocked on the door someone who was obviously living there, but whom I had never met before, answered the door. When I told this person he shouldn't be living in my house he started to verbally assault me.

At which point I got in my car and drove to a property manager I knew about. Didn't know personally, just knew about. I signed a contract. Gave her the keys and let her take over. There were a few rough spots with the tenants but I usually got my money on time. And my house didn't go up in flames.

Then they moved out at the end of the lease.

And my house (with a substantial mortgage) sat empty.

Months went by.

I was told the market was tight. Lower the rent. Accept month to month. Oh, and the previous tenants had left a mess, could I send the security deposit to repair? Uh, sure, here's $500 bucks.

Then the communication got less . . . and less . . . until I called my property manager ready to talk some real business.

And got a disconnected message.

And then my stomach did a back flip.

And I went to her website. And saw this.

Then I calmly did some research calling my real estate agent and discovered that what is worse than NOT having a property manager is having a property manger that has a gambling addiction and who is shut down without notice. Then I was no longer calm and cursed and shouted and marched around the house shaking my fist at the heavens.

And then I got back on the phone and made some calls. So now my house is back in the hands of a well referred Property Manger who is licensed and bonded. Something I'd assumed my other manager was, but DUH it turns out she WASN'T. No point in sueing someone with a gambling addiction if they don't have insurance.

Things could have been worse, though, as I hear that other owners are completely out security and last month rent deposits-which I had personally held because I had initiated the contract with my first tenants.

Of course I did get a call from my new manager telling me that apparently,the money I had sent to do repairs and clean had not been properly put to use. I suspect it's sitting in the coffers of Seven Feathers Casino a favorite of Southern Oregon gamblers. (I think I can just make out my property manager in the back of the photo on the right . . .)

This was a hard lesson to learn as I could have paid for my wedding with the lost rental income, but at least my house isn't burnt to the ground or a meth warehouse (which is a sadly real possibility in a county with a city that commonly is known as Methford).

If anybody is looking for a nice 3 bd, 1 1/2 bath in lovely Ashland Oregon let me know . . . .

We Are The Champions (my friends)

Yes, despite birthdays, baby showers, friends leaving island (to have babies), off-island guests (we really appreciate your visit! Mel from World Society for the Protection of Animals/WSPA), Thanksgiving, and my computer needing a full reinstall of operating software yesterday, and general laziness, I am a winner.

Of NaNoWriMo 2007! Which means in 30 days (with 6 1/2 hours to spare) I wrote slightly over 50,000 words of a novel. Now there was absolutely no, I repeat, NO, editing of this piece of work, what so ever, and I have absolutely no intention of reading said work for at least a month as I need some "me time." So it remains to be seen if it is fit to be seen. But since last year, completly free and (happily) living off unemployment, I was only able to write half of the prerequisite 50,000 words; and prior to that experience the longest thing I'd ever written was one of many tedious 10-20 page papers for school, even if it stinks to high heaven I am pleased with myself. Woohoo!

I will now proceed to catch up on a variety of neglected business such as: bills, blogging, painting my nails, sending Xmas cards, and, "oh yeah, that little old thing"-doing some wedding planning. Tonight, though, it's Miller time (by Miller I mean Talisker).

Tisa's Tatau Fest 2007

A couple of weekends ago, Tisa & Candy Man had their annual Tatau Festival. For two days Tisa's becomes a place to show off tattoos and tattoo artists display their skills. We went on Saturday for the traditional tatau display.









Tattoos in Samoa have a very long history. They are still done with traditional methods if you choose. The big tattoos are reserved for the men (pea'a) and extend from the low back to the knees and the women have less elaborate thigh tattoos of cross hatches (malu). In this picture the men's tattoos are on the left and the women's on the right. Photo from: http://www.janeresture.com






This is an excerpt explaining the tattoos:

"In Samoa, a Samoan Tattoo is pronounced "Tatau" (Tahtau) and what it is in layman's terms is a tattoo that has been etched on to a human body in the traditional and ancient practice for as long as anyone can remember.

All the various patterns and motifs have great significance and these can be interpreted in detail by the Tafuga (tattooist) to the recipient. Family lineage can be identified from this beautiful and skillful art.

The tattoo starts from the lower back, reaches as high as the ribcage underneath of the armpits.

A samoan tattoo (or Tatau) covers the entire buttocks and sides of the torso and travels directly over the groin area. It patterns itself completely over both thighs until it reaches to the back of the knees and over the front of the knees.

The Tatau when seen in public is always in the same format design with the added motifs by the respective artists or "Tafuga" (Tah-foo-gha) that apply it on their subjects.

The Tatau (Samoan Tattoo) will cover approximately 65 % of the body when completed, in one colour and in one overall design.

In Samoa to have a Tatau (or Samoan Tattoo) is like a statement to family, friends and to the village and more importantly to the culture itself, it is worn with pride, honor and respect.

Even to the world outside of Samoa when viewed by onlookers they recognize that these individuals are proud ambassadors of their homeland and culture.

In the old days only the High chiefs and chiefs who were orators were allowed to have a Samoan Tattoo, or Tatau, along with their sons. These sons were the only males who were allowed to serve and witness meetings amongst the chiefs acting as guards and minders. No-one else was permitted near the chiefs while these men with the Tatau were present."-Tattoo Samoan

I watched the traditional tatau artists with their traditional tools-ato au. They were very skilled. Here's some good pictures on Tisa's site.

After nearly 35 years on the planet I have decided to get a tattoo. I was never really anti or pro tattoo before. I just wasn't inspired to have something on my body for the rest of my life. Maybe it's a midlife phenomenon but I can really see myself loving my Samoan tattoo for the rest of my life. As my friend Melanie calls it, I might be going "Tropo"- a mental state (some may say illness) brought on by living on a tropical island. I thought I was going to have a traditional tattoo, but after nine months of studying them on patients, I've decided that they blur and fade too much. Instead, I will have a traditional style tattoo but not in the traditional manner.

There were a few modern tattoo artists at the Festival and they were amazingly good. I found my prospective tattoo artist (seen here on the left winning his prize) and once I get some dough-I'm getting my tat! Photo from Samoa News.

Here are some links to more photos from the Samoan Newspaper

Day One-Traditional Tattoos

Day Two-Modern Tattoos-Samoan Designs

Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY to me.
If you get the above references, your ok by me!
Monday was my 35th birthday. It was quite a big one for me. Being in the baby business, I knew that it would be best to have my own baby business, if not finished, at least well on it's way by this time. But things don't always work out that way, and never one to put the cart before the horse; I'm still determined to get married without a double chin and giant stomach.





Instead of pouting, I decided to make the most of turning 35. This has been the longest birthday ever, starting with my great trip to Apia last month courtesy Markus.









Friday we got together with a group of November birthday friends at Tisa's for a fabulous dinner. It was a perfect night, the food was fabulous and the company merry (especially as they were all kid free for the night).








Saturday I planned a beach side playday. We set up day use for some fales at Amalau, between Vatia and Afono. The place is set up for day use with clean open areas, toilets, showers, a cooking fale, and even electricity. It was great.








The beach was clean and pristine. Apparently, this is one of the few beaches on the island where turtles lay eggs.










The day was gorgeous and sunny on that side of the island.











We brought our kayaks which were fun for the big waves that were pummeling the shore when we showed up.

We couldn't really snorkel but we jumped in the waves a while-it's actually fairly rare that we get big waves like that.






The guys had a dive. Look at Paul's amazing underwater video camera housing.











And we had food and beer.












It was a great day. Kiki wondered if we had brought her back any fish in the hold.











Monday, my real birthday, was spent starting NaNoWriMo (albeit a weebit tardily as I had been so busy partying), eating junk food and getting to rent DVDs not on the top of Markus' wishlist.

Now that it's over I'm sad that I can't drag out my birthday any longer.
But 36 is just around the corner!