My year in Samoa. 29/01/13
I read the paper today. It was a bit
on the trag side, some of the English
skills could definitely use improving, but who am I to judge when I
pathetically can only speak one language (even if it’s the top dog of
languages)…
The paper was in equal measure fascinating
and depressing. I sat at the dining room table and read while drinking my
orange juice, wishing I had a cigarette or a pipe or something to look fancy
with because I was grown up-ly reading the paper. Meanwhile my Asian wife
(slash roomie) cooked us up massive portions of fried rice. Quaint bible
messages and quirky columns aside, things weren’t looking good: family debt,
unemployment and a rise in violence among youth.
Money stuff distresses me in Samoa. In true
third/developing world fashion, the uneven distribution of wealth is apparent when
you have hulking great SUV’s driving next to the broken down old buses, and
mansions next to shacks. It makes it even more disconcerting when you comment
on a lovely giant mansion, about 10 times the size of a normal house, only to
have the taxi driver grimly say “Pastor’s house”. Family traditions, religious
expectations and lack of financial literacy are massive contributors towards
the current financial state most families are in. Samoa is begging for change,
though no one seems to be quite sure of how to go about getting their shit
together, and therefore change doesn’t come. I look forward to looking more
into this area, which may be difficult seeing as the topic is fairly taboo.
On the note of church, I haven’t been yet,
but am looking to go along this Sunday. I am apprehensive to a point of what I
might find. Samoa is a strongly religious country, and unfortunately church
pastoring has become a rather lucrative business, and so I will openly say that
I am sceptical of the sincerity and authenticity of some of these pastors. It’s
probably unfair of me to judge without at least making an appearance first, so
I will hold off on unleashing (more of) my thoughts until I have been myself.
On a side note, I had my first day of
school today. The kids are BOSS AS (lol), gorgeous little things that were so
quiet for the first block, I thought I was teaching a class of deaf mutes. Unfortunately,
the glorious silence didn’t last too long, and everyone was busy having a
raucous yarn by the end of block two.
Having only 19 kids though means that I am spoilt for choice towards who
I want to help, and who I want to leave for dead (jokes)
and I have promised them that they will all be massive braniacs by the time
they finish in my class. They were pleased by that, only to have their hopes
dashed when they realised that I can neither spell, nor do my times tables. I
assured them that I had other cools skills like being able to whistle while
sucking air IN, not out, and also am really great at reading stories out loud.
The best thing is that they call me Ainsley, so I had the rather surreal
experience of “Good afternoon, Room 7…..Good
afternoooonAiiiiiiinnnnnsssss-leeeeeeey”. Cuties.
Night night and don’t let the bed bugs
bite. Seriously don’t, because I try not to but they still get me anyway, and
now I have at least 60 bites on my legs, a mild fever, and aches in my joints.
Someone webdoctor.com those symptoms for me would you?
Love, Ainsley
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