The umu

There are many moments during my time in American Samoa that I will look back on and laugh, cry, smile, or be thankful that I don't have to relive.  There are the grand teaching moments- like when students tell you they "never liked science until this year". There are the frustrating moments- when you finish teaching a lesson and a student points out (with the utmost confidence) "but none of that's true, Miss," simply because they hadn't learned it before or because their religious beliefs force them to put up a wall to block out any new ideas. Or when you have a doctor's appointment and you spend 2 hours getting and waiting there only to be called into the doctor's office to find there IS no doctor that day.  There are the hysterical moments- when you are trying to punish students for bad behavior but they keep making you laugh.  The ridiculous moments- men in fast food restaurants trying to set you up with their off-island son who is a marine and wants to marry a palagi just so that he doesn't have to deal with all the Samoan fa'alavelaves (giving of money and materials goods to families for weddings and other special events).  Or when you're watching oiled-up sixteen year olds dancing half naked at a school assembly and you think that it's totally normal.  The many endearing moments- when a student comes to you to talk about problems he or she is having, or when students stay after school just to teach you more Samoan, or when they ask you if you'd like to go fishing with them.  Or the "should I really be doing this?" moments- harboring "fugitives" (as well call them) in our classes because they got kicked out of another teacher's class.  Or getting up in front of all the parents and dancing to The Wobble at the senior prom, surrounded by my mostly-male marine science class, and having the boys teach me the Cupid Shuffle up on stage. 

I could go on and on through every emotion- we seem to hit them all at some point or another during our volunteer year in Samoa.  But after several months of teaching, being able to have a thorough lesson of my own was another great moment on "The Rock".  There are lots of things you can ask students about as a teacher and rather than getting a full-length, detailed lesson on what you are curious about, you get a quick, underdescriptive response that leaves you with many unanswered questions.  Especially with a language barrier, it's tough to get the full story. So one Sunday, I set out to find some answers about the infamous umu- through experience! I also got to share this experience with my Mom, which was awesome, because Mom also got to see a little clip of Samoan culture!

Sundays tend to be a quiet time for Kristina and I at the apartment.  "Aso Sa" meaning "Sacred Day" is a day meant for church, followed by the weekly to'ona'i (big lunch when all the family gets together after church) in the afternoon.  As you can imagine, the Sundays we don't go to church, get pretty boring (and aside from the singing, even the church days can be boring when they are entirely in Samoan). We read, lesson plan, occasionally go for a walk, but never run or go outside to do anything else.  The buses don't run, so there's not much you can do anyway. The village is quiet, aside from the beautiful singing voices that rise from all of the churches that surround our house. So it was nice to have something to look forward to on a Sunday, even if it was just for one or two hours.

Start with a fire- fueled by coconut husks.
You start really early in the morning before the sun comes
up and begins to fry your soul.  Also, Tau and Malo go to
church at 8, so they need to be done by then.

I woke up with Mom at about 5:15 on Sunday morning (this was the week her and Howard were visiting), and we walked across our yard to the back of the house where Tau and Malo, two awesome, hardworking men from Western Samoa who work for our landlords, do the umu.  The umu is the earthen oven that I had heard about and eaten food from all year; I had even been given vague explanations on how to "do the umu", as my students say, and I've helped do the saka on a previous Sunday morning (which is the same food but just boiled instead of cooked in the umu). But I hadn't seen the whole thing from start to finish.

Taro, breadfruit, and bananas laid out on banana leaves after it being peeled.

You husk the coconut by slamming it against this metal rod.
Then you still have another inner shell left to crack! 

Once you crack the coconut (with a machete), you must grate/shred all of the
coconut out of the shell, using a sharp, circular, razor attached
to a wooden seat for easy shredding.

Tau shreds the coconut while the fire is getting hot. He's so fast at it!

Tau wraps the shredded coconut in a string-like part of a plant (I forget what this is called) and you basically mash/strain the shredded coconut until it is creamy.

Malo does an excellent job of wrapping the palusami!
It's looks like a green version of the golden bags that you would
get in Thai restaurants, all wrapped up real cute!

Malo spreading out the hot rocks 

Breadruit, taro, bananas and chicken (in foil) on top of the rocks

More rocks on top, then palusami (onion, lime/lemon juice,
 and coconut milk, wrapped in a taro leaf, wrapped in a
another banana leaf) and faiai pilikaki (fish and coconut milk
in the coconut shell).

All covered with big banana leaves

...and then covered with carpet to keep in all the heat.

About 45 mins later.....

take off the mats, take off the dried leaves....

......Umu!!

.....Put it in hand-woven baskets and share!

There are a few other small steps in there...but you will never know unless you ask me!! It was so nice to be up really early in Samoa before it gets hot, and being back there where they do the umu reminded me of camping trips- waking up and finding Mom or Dad outside cooking breakfast over an open fire early in the morning.

What I loved about this one-to-two hour experience was finally getting to be a part of a Samoan tradition myself, rather than just hearing about it through my students. Of course, I still don't know all the exact words to say for certain steps or ingredients.  But these small insights into island life, like being invited to sit under a tarp, drink some iced tea and eat some papaya and just chat for a while with some Samoans, or learning to weave a basket out of palm fronds, have been some of the most memorable.  It is those times that remind me that this year has certainly been a two-way exchange of ideas, customs, and traditions- and that while we are the "faiaogas" (teachers) from off-island, this tiny rock has undoubtedly shown us a new perspective and shared quite a few things about its people with us palagis as well.