Leaving the training village on Saturday morning turned out
to be one of the most tear provoking events, EVER. The water works that
came and the floodgates that were opened when I was saying goodbye to the
village this weekend were a little ridiculous.
I don’t know if it was the idea of leaving to go to something so new and
unfamiliar (my permanent site) after being so comfortable there for the last
two months or if it’s the idea that I won’t ever be living there with them
again, but whatever the reason-it was pretty rough. The Methodist church had a fiafia for us the
week before we left--which turned out to be the most fun I had in Utulaelae
possibly the whole time I was there!
There was lots of food, of course, and dancing (both samoan songs and
hip music), and lots of dance performances! The boys did some really cool slap
dances, Kate’s 81 year old grandmother did some pole dancing and danced with a
chair on her head, Becca’s dance partner played hide and go seek around
her while they were dancing, bobbing and
weaving from one side to the next , above and below while she diligently tried
to keep up with his speed, the Pastor’s wife knocked Seti to the ground when
she was dancing with him so intensely, but the highlight was obviously when I
did a dance by myself in front of everyone.
If you are wondering how I got talked into that, the answer is I DIDN’T!
My mom just called me over the side and started putting this big feather thing
on my hair and a sequin head band on my forehead and a giant necklace and some
sort of hip decoration around my waist—I
gathered that I was going to dance, as this is the uniform for the taupou
dance. The taupou is usually done by the
virgin daughter of a high chief in a village—but this time, it was done by me!
After I suffered through what felt like a small eternity of dancing, the
torture ended and I was allowed to remove all of my costume except the Vegas
feathers in my hair. Luckily, the rest
of the Peace Corps also had to dance by their selves as the night went on. I felt much less like an uncoordinated fool
when I realized we all sucked.
The night before we left the whole village through a
fa’amavai (farewell) for us at the same house as our fiafia the week
before. The feeling in the air was so
different. Even just by looking at
pictures, you can see that we are laughing our heads off watching the dances
the first time, but the last time we are crying thinking about this being the
last time we get to watch them dance.
Regardless of the tears, it was a great experience. Of course, we all
had to dance again in front of everyone (and yes, I did wear the feather
costume again) and there was food and dancing.
The worst part was when they played the theme song from “Ghost”
(Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers) and we all danced with our host
moms or dads. I danced with my mom and
by the time the first chorus came around we were just standing there sobbing
and hugging as we embarrassingly swayed on the dance floor. Luckily, we weren’t the only ones I saw doing
this (thanks becca and kate—that’s why we are friends!). Following this, we all stood in a circle and
held hands while the Samoans sang a beautiful Samoan hymn. This of course led to even more crying (my
tear ducts got a real work out this day!) and then going around and kissing and
hugging everyone.
After the fa’amavai, I went back home to my family and we
did our farewell speeches during family prayer.
The fa’asamoa (samoan way) is that you thank God first, then express
your love and gratitude, then ask forgiveness for anything you have done wrong,
and generally concluded by the giving of small gifts. I stumbled my way
tearfully through my broken Samoan to give my speech and try to express my
love. It was hard. I, obviously, am terribly awkward when it
comes to most things related to emotions and crying and being sad, and anything
else of the likes that go too far beyond joking and being funny, thus I added a
few jokes into my serious speech. For
example, I said “Thank you for asking me every time I walk to the shower if I’m
going to shower and every time I walk out of the shower if I am finished
showering.” And “Thank you climbing up
the coconut trees to always bring me coconut.”
They really got a kick out of these—and it broke up the crying so that
was nice. I will definitely miss my
Utulaelae family, but on the optimistic side, I am very excited to go see my
new family again and get settled into my permanent village.
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