Sounds

You know how when everyone talks about India, they all seem to mention one same thing- the smell. "It's invasive" they tell you, with a look of wonderment (or disgust, depending on what they are describing) on their face.

Sound to Samoa is what smell is to India. It's EVERYWHERE. It's invasive. And it's great.

Right now my ears are in overdrive- The hum off the computer, the hiss of a boiling kettle, a whinghing child competing with the chattering noise delivered courtesy of the Cartoon Network.

Further still I can hear- the whoosh of the ceiling fans as they spin at full speed- it's hot today. The dripping of water from wet foliage from the most recent downpour. Roosters crowing, dogs barking and making the occasional yelp as one takes on another- perhaps for a scrap of food or in defence of their territory- and is put in it's place.

Noise, or sound, is constant here. Of course it always is everywhere in the world, but they are new sounds, and therefore I notice them more.

For the first week I had trouble sleeping. The stream outside my window, that in the dry season calms down to barely a trickle, rushes with a steady, crashing rythem. Unwelcome creatures scuttle and crunch on the leaves outside. The fan blows a stream of coolish air in my face, humming loudly with the exertion of working at it's highest level for hours on end.

At the end of the first week teaching, my voice was hoarse from trying to speak over the constant barage of rain on the tin roof. Wind howled, lightning cracked, and thunder roared so close over head, some of the kids actually screamed.

At night, when things are calm, the crickets sing. The geckos chrip greetings to one another, basking in the warmth of the closest light. The gentle words of Samoan float down through the open windows from the house above- the family are saying their nightly devotions. The village bell rings; once, twice. Songs carry on the breeze, ghostly voices singing their praises to God.

I would be pretending if I said these noises didn't piss me off sometimes. But like India, the experience would be incomplete without them.

Love, Ainsley