The Samoan Youth Empowerment Initiative: December 2012

Workers climbing limbs of the pulu
trees on beach road as they cut them down.

It’s now six days since Cyclone Evan hit Samoa. It’s official that it hit as a Category 3 storm. Since last Thursday, it crossed over the small French Territories of Wallis and Futuna and moved on to hit Fiji as a Category 4.

Back here in Samoa life is starting to get back to normal, or at least as normal as it will be for the months ahead. Power has been restored to most of the capital, although all the rural villages away from town still remain without electricity. Stores have continued to clean up. Construction is taking place on the roof at McDonald’s and most stores have moped out the layers of mud that coated them a few days ago.

The first addition of the Samoan Observer was printed yesterday, loaded with pictures of the damage and stories of heroic acts that took place during the storm. Concerns are building about the possibilities of food shortages which almost seem inevitable. Most Samoans depend on basic foods such as bananas, breadfruit and taro and much of these crops of been destroyed, either by wind or water. The ocean, which has always been a source of food for Samoans, has suddenly become ever more important as a source of food. Rice, which has also become common in most households, is sure to see a price rise and other imported goods as well. I keep reminding myself that Samoans have been living on these islands for the past 3,000 years and this isn’t there first time through this, yet this is a new generation that is experiencing this storm, given the fact it has been 21 years since one this strong has hit.

Saulo, Milo and Neueli are growing ever more anxious for our departure on Friday night! Because of limited transportation and roads that are still being cleaned up, the parents and I have decided to keep the boys at my house which is closer to the airport and town, as opposed to going back out to the village where it would be expensive for transport to and from. They’ve been in touch with their families over the phone throughout the week and their spirits seem high. I think they’ve realized they aren’t in this alone; all of Samoa—and now even other Pacific islands, are going through the same thing.

In my last blog I commented on how the Samoan Youth Empowerment Initiative has already begun in many ways, with the bravery they’ve shown and their patience in waiting for the program to begin. There is no doubt that the program will have a different tone to it, as their minds will certainly be on their families back in Samoa. However, it is my hope that the program will give them a chance to keep busy and still accomplish the original goals and objectives we set from the beginning.

Below are some more pictures of life here in Samoa over the past few day. We thank you for your continued prayers and support!

Today, one of the first freighters arrived into Apia. In the foreground are limbs that liter Apia Harbor.

Digicel, the dominant telephone provider for Samoa, realized that when cell phones are dead, no money is made. They've set up tents around the country, such as this one, where people can come and charge their cell phones by generator.

Damage at the bus stop.

Sardines and rice have been our food for the past 6 days. We buy instant noodles for variety. We are fortunate, however, to have food.

Lilli and I walked to the bridge
near the Peace Corps office to find this!

I’ve faced countless challenges in Samoa the past three years, but the past few days have required me to dig deeper than I ever have before. Emotions have been high and trials many, but with the grace of God and the love of the Samoans who make this country so great, we’ve been getting through the toughest moments together.

On Wednesday the ocean looked rough as I headed out to my old Peace Corps village to meet up with Saulo, Neueli and Milo, the three boys I’m taking back to Michigan for the Youth Empowerment Initiative. I had been so busy preparing the program that I never heard news of Cyclone Evan until Thursday morning when I woke up at Saulo’s house. The radio reports were saying it would hit by 2p.m. as a weak Category 2. I headed to town with the boys’ parents to take care of some last minute paperwork with them. When I left my village with them, I never knew it would be the last time I would see it as I have for the last three years: the next time I would return it would be completely changed.

On our way into town, Saulo’s dad was having to dodge banana trees that had fallen down early in the storm. We took care of our business in town and I said goodbye to the parents as I headed back to my house out near the airport. I had yet to pack. I debated about whether to go with them and ride out the storm with the families I knew so well, or to head to my house and try to prepare for our trip.

Apia quickly closed down and by 12p.m. I was on one of the few buses back to my village and arrived just 20 minutes before the hardest winds started. I rode out the storm as the winds buffeted my house from the West and then about 2 hours later started coming out of the south and blowing rain into my bedroom. With a leaking ceiling and a metal roof I wasn’t sure was going to hold because of the sounds I was hearing, I kept wondering how others around the island group were doing. I was especially thinking of the three boys who had been so looking forward to heading to the airport on Friday evening to head to America. The last phone call I would be able to make to the village was at 2:30p.m Thursday.

That night, the rain had let up but the winds were still fierce and the roof continued to rattle the house. The next morning rain bands would come and go. I headed out to the road to try and get a ride into town. I found a lift with a man headed in and he dropped me at Lilli’s house, a Peace Corps friend from Group 82. I had been out of food at my house so she offered me some crackers! We headed down to town together to check on my flight and assess the damage. Downtown Apia was a mess with muddy flooded streets which were the only route to walk through to get to Air Pacific’s office. At that point the flight had not been canceled, but it wouldn’t be until 3:30p.m. Friday that it would be canceled.

With many of the huge pulu trees down in front of the government building and piles upon piles of logs clogging the river near Aggie Grey’s Hotel, the Apia landscape just didn’t look the same. My goal became to try to get to the boys to see how they were. I had hardly slept the night before wondering if they and my village were ok. I found a lift from some men in a truck and we headed out on the East Coast Road. As we traveled that side of the island I found out that that side of the island had been hit much harder than the side I had ridden the storm out on. All the trees on the mountains had been striped of their leaves, making Samoa look like November in Michigan, other than the battered Coconut palms hanging after the brutal winds. That road that had been so familiar suddenly felt like a bad dream I couldn’t make sense of. My stomach felt sick and when we got a bridge that had severe damage, I realized we wouldn’t be able to get to my village. Turning around we headed back to town.

I stuck close to the Peace Corps office where Peace Corps friends were gathered. The Peace Corps office had been covered in mud. Only a few stores in town were open to sell food and power for the entire country had been knocked out. Friday night I stayed with the Peace Corps Volunteers in town to be ready to try and get out to the village on Saturday morning.

Saturday morning I went into Samoa Commercial Bank after asking the owner if I could charge my laptop, phone and camera while his generator was on. After an hour there I found a taxi van and made the journey out to the village where the boys were. The bridge that had stopped me the day before had been fixed enough for us to get across. The further we traveled the worse it got and the sadder I became. Huge trees on people’s houses, wires down. Samoans deal with grief by laughing, so I wasn’t at all surprised that the old man driving me was laughing at the scenes he saw. I wasn’t angry with him because I knew that is how they deal with it, but I didn’t feel bad for showing opposite emotions either. As we rode along he recounted some of the bad cyclones from the old days, such as ‘66, ’90 and ’91. Radio reports said this cyclone had been the strongest since 1991.

About half way out we passed a car from my village and I was belated! I then knew the road was passable. I said hi to the family and we continued along. As we went through the last village before turning onto the long narrow road back to my village, the mountains I had run along for two years looked like a weed whacker had hacked away at them. It just felt like another place. I had only been there two days earlier and it was pristine.

Dodging downed trees on the road leading to my village, we found a man walking who I knew and we offered him a ride. When he got in I asked him about the families and he told me Milo had lost his house and Saulo too. I started to cry. I knew what was coming but couldn’t stop it. I just wanted to see those families and hug them.

As we came around the last corner the village came into sight. Some light sun breaking through, the village looked like it had been through the worst. Most of the beautiful coconut trees lining the road had been striped clean of all their branches or only a few hung on. The mountain I had climbed twice back in 2011 was standing there as majestic as ever, but look wounded.

My old house came into view first and I saw it looked ok. Immediately, my eyes turned to Milo’s house right next to mine. I could see him sitting on the rocks out in front with only a few of the poles of the Samoan house still standing. I couldn’t hold it in. What was I going to say to Milo, this kid whose family had given everything to make me feel a part of their family the past three years. The van stopped and I walked towards the house, motioning for Milo to come towards me. He came over in his rain soaked shirt and I just hugged him. I had never been so happy to see him. I said I was sorry and told him how brave he was. His Mom came over with a smile on her face which quickly led to tears. We sat down in front of what was left of their house, a place that had held so many memories of the past three years. In true Samoan spirit, although they had lost everything they came over and offered me a coconut. I wasn’t thirsty or hungry; I was just sad.

We sat there for a few minutes. I asked Milo if he still wanted to go to America and he said “yes.” I asked his mom and she said “yes” as well. I felt relief, but I also felt concerned. I knew if this had happened to me the day before I was to come to Samoa I wouldn’t have left. That’s when I realized what these kids have that I need more of: faith! Milo had faith that all would be alright. He had faith that things would get better.

I explained that I had no idea when the plane would be rescheduled to leave and that we should go back into town right away. Milo said he would get his bag ready. I went over to Saulo’s house next and as we drove down there, the village was already cleaning up and working together; no one was waiting for someone else to do it for them. I saw people smiling and as they have for three years, waving at me as I went by and calling out my name. I had never been so happy to be there.

I rounded the corner by Saulo’s and his entire roof had been blown off. We pulled in and his dad walked towards us. His dad knew my taxi driver and with a laugh he said, “Aua le aka,” “Don’t laugh.” I could see he was taking it well but I gave him a big hug. He told me not to worry. Walking through the threshold of the house, I gave Saulo’s mom a hug as rain came down on us. I could see Saulo standing towards the back of the house, scooping cups of rice for their lunch. I walked to him and stopped him from what he was doing and just told him how happy I was to see him and that he was ok. I said I was sorry. We went to the side of the house and sat down and just talked about everything. I asked him the same question, whether he wanted to go to America and he said yes. He said his bag was already packed: he had been waiting for me to come and get him! That’s how much trust those kids have for me and I just felt humbled. He knew I would be there and that I wouldn’t give up on them. They hadn’t given up on me either.

As we sat there his dad came around the corner and said he wanted Saulo to go as well. Saulo got up and brought me a cup of tea. Again, these families have so many other worries but they still wanted to make me feel welcomed. I sat there talking to his mom and dad and realizing I had slept in their house just two nights earlier.

Saulo walked down the road with me to Neueli’s. Saulo said he and his dad were in the house when the roof blew off. I asked why they weren’t with the rest of the family in the church where it was safer. He said his dad wanted to keep an eye on the house. I asked Saulo why he didn’t go to the church then and he said he told his dad he wanted to stay behind to help him with the house. When the roof blew off they both ran for the church. Saulo said he was crying. I told him how much I admired the spirit of his country to start the clean-up right away and to work together.

We arrived at Neueli’s house which wasn’t damaged much, although everything had been moved out of their Samoan house and into their European style house where things stayed dry. One of the few things in their Samoan house was a sign I had given him when I returned to Samoa this year, it says, “Quitters never win and winners never quit.” He also assured me he wanted to go to America and his parents agreed.

The taxi came and we picked up his stuff and I said goodbye to his family and other neighbors. He was emotional, as well as all of his family and I just kept thinking of how brave these kids were, of how much they wanted this trip to happen. They were willing to leave their families during one of their greatest challenges and their families wanted it for them as well. We went to Saulo’s and picked up his bag. His dad had carved a Samoan plate and bowl to bring back to the States and raffle off, but he hadn’t had time to finish stain it or do any design carving on it: it was exactly how it was on Wednesday night when I saw it while staying at their house. It was an example of how time had stood still for a few days.

I said goodbye to all of Saulo’s family who had also been like family to me. I thanked them for their trust in me and told them I would take good care of Saulo. We took a picture of them together and then Saulo hugged each of his family members. It was painful to watch, but also so special at the same time. With their damaged house in the background we loaded into the van and pulled away—I could see Saulo taking a last glimpse back at his family and his village.

We made a few stops through the village so I could say goodbyes and I kept trying to make sense of everything that had happened. What an awful way to say goodbye, what a sad way to leave these people who meant so much to me, these people I had been blessed to see again this year on my return to Samoa.

We arrived at Milo’s house and I saw his elderly grandma had come up the hill to say goodbye and was waiting there for us. We got out and Milo grabbed his bag. We took another picture and I watched as Milo hugged his grandma and mom. So much must have seemed unclear for his future, but he was going with us and trusting in God that his family would be ok. I hugged his mom and told her to give love to Milo’s dad who was in capital—he had gone in to sell some carved bowls—he was already starting to pick up the pieces by making some money for his family to start the rebuilding.

With none of the right words seeming to come, I just gave a hug to each of Milo’s family and got into the van. We waved goodbye and headed out down the road. With the village below us, it was an image I’d rather not remember. I wanted to remember the way it used to look; it would take a while for them to get back on their feet and for the landscape to recover. However, as we left I realized the most important thing was that everyone was safe.

Heading down the road, the kids were in shock of the landcape on those slopping mountains. I heard Saulo say, “Oh my!” I just sat there and tried to talk them through it. It was hard to leave but perhaps it was good for them to get away and have a chance to show some of their emotions. When they are around their families I think there is a certain guard they put up trying to act brave but I found out that evening that they had emotions they wanted to let out. I’m sure it was partly anger, sadness, confusion.

That afternoon we found out our flight wouldn’t leave until the following week, this Friday. We sat together at my house that evening and said payer together on the living room floor. It was a special moment and a chance for us to share our thoughts. We each took time to say a few words and offer a prayer.

On Sunday morning we overslept for church, probably out of exhaustion. I knew these kids needed something that represented church so I set up a small chapel setting in my house and we used my English Bible and Samoan Bible to each take a turn reading a scripture passage and then sharing a few words. Saulo went first and read from Job, and the story of how Job was tested by Satan but he didn’t give in and had faith in God. I read from Matthew about Peter’s walking on the water and how it is important to keep our eyes focused on God during times of confusion and when the waves seem scary. Milo read from Proverbs and Neueli from Matthew. It was such a simple prayer service but so powerful in the moment and in the wake of what we had all just been through.
At this point, the country is still in the beginning stages of recovery. The streets in the capital which were covered in mud are now turning to dust and causing the whole city to be covered. The mountains look bare and tired from what they’ve been through. A few places are getting power back or still using their generators. I’m at CSL, the only internet café open. Next to me on the floor I have every electronic device I own that uses battery and am charging them up. Across the street part of McDonald’s roof is missing and the sign is damaged.

As far as flights go, we were at the airport last night ready to get on a flight to Hawaii but it was canceled because it was originating from Fiji, which is where Cyclone Evan is now hitting. Our prayers are with them. We are scheduled to leave on Friday night at the latest which would get us back to Michigan by Saturday afternoon. We’ve lost a week of the program for the boys, but this is God’s will and we will all learn things about ourselves and others which will make us stronger people. In many ways, I think the Samoan Youth Empowerment Initiative has already begun—it began when these kids showed such bravery during this storm. They are the ones I admire. They are the future of this country and that makes me feel good about Samoa’s future!