My father is a Matai.

One of the fears a migrant parent must have, is whether their child will receive the same positives, same influential experiences and ultimately cultural findings or conclusions in life that they did. Regardless of class, there are blessings of identity, family and national pride - that most gain through daily existence in any country…. These are held deep and a desire for offspring to adopt these values and ultimately ideals surely cause distress.   I imagine there would be a lot of angst experienced that these children may not understand or share these same beliefs if they are important to you… cause ultimately it also may mean that your children won’t understand you.   Growing up in a mixed racial community where Western ideals are the norm, it is easy to mistake these traditions and beliefs as your own. Chatter about boyfriends and girlfriends, parties, pocket money, the tooth fairy, debutants, debating with parents, teenage sex, abortion and leaving home at 18 w...

I imagine back in the 70's .... leaving Samoa in your early 20s, having never been overseas, let alone another island would be a mammoth undertaking. I can only guess at the feelings that would have swept over my father as he heard his parents' decision to send him abroad. Having given up school at age 8 to cultivate and care for his family's plantation, so his ailing father wouldn't have to-: wake up at dawn, walk at least 5kms inland (many times without shoes) and then labour at length as the sun reached its peak with blunt tools and cracked palms, clearing land, pruning, grafting, weeding and labouring with all his might to produce a crop worthy of consumption. Then making the long trek back but this time with a load of coconuts, or taros, or bananas or whatever was to make the meal for that day… sometimes all of those things together… and not sometimes but every day. His family and village recognised he was a hardworker (and continues to be). His family...

My earliest memories are from the year 1982. I'm in Samoa. Visiting. I'm 5. I've become a big sister this year... I have a little brother and I love him.  My mum is busy, but she's there. The memories I have are of two men ... both very different from each other but also very much alike. One tall, broad and stern - the other shorter, smiles alot and seems gentler. One from Savaii and as traditional as they come - the other, from the opposite side of Upolu, afakasi and soft spoken. One liked dogs, the other cats. Both hunters, both hardworking and both respected chiefs in their own right. These men... my grandfathers. What I remember most, is that they both had so much love for me, that even now, years after they've passed I can still feel the intensity of their love. I remember their adoration. I remember they made time for me in a time when that wasn't really done. Perhaps their love was magnified because of the rarity of a visit from a granddaught...