The Cannibal Isles

The Fijian archipelago, consists of 322 mountainous islands of volcanic origin. In the past, these islands were known as the cannibal islands (although documentation is scarce) and were avoided by sailors due to treacherous waters and fierce warriors. The industries are tourism, sugar, clothing, copra, gold, silver, lumber, and small cottage industries. Although located in Melanesia (black islands), the demographics reflect 54.3% indigenous Fijian, 38.1% Indian (from India), and 1.2% Polynesian. The Indians were brought to Fiji as indentured servants to toil away in the sugar cane fields. As they weren't allowed to own land, they evolved into shop keepers, business people, and money lenders. The current political landscape has been marked by several military coup d'etat (1998, 1998, 2000, 2006), as native Fijians fear the encroachment of Indo-Fijians into their traditional sphere of influence. As a result, many Indo-Fijians have returned to India for safety reasons. The 2 major ethnic communities are further divided by religion (christianity vs hinduism) and language (fijian vs hindi).



Aside from the recent political turmoil, The Republic of Fiji is blessed with amazing scenery above and below the water. Home to some of the most spectacular coral reefs in the world, we planed to travel to the outer islands and "walk on the moon". In the northwest corner of the archiplego, between the islands of Vanua Levu and Taveuni lies the Somosomo strait. Fed by nutrients that emerge from the depths of the Tongan trench, rainbow reef is world famous for its multitude of reef fish and soft corals. The trademark or signature species in the area is the soft coral, which billows and undulates in the currents. The soft coral comes in dramatic, often electric hues of orange, red, pink, and white-fringed by purple. The visiblity is typically around 40 meters, making the diving similar to an aquarium.


This trip differed from our normal wilderness expeditions due to the fact that we were staying at an eco-resort. This was necessary for several reasons, mainly due to accessing the reefs. Although Fiji is less than 2 horus from Samoa you would think that getting there would be a breeze. In actuality, we had to take a 30 minute puddle jumper plane to western samoa, then take an overnight light into Nadi, Fiji. No comment on the city area of Nadi, as urban centers were not the focus of this trip. After crashing at Mama's place, we boarded our 15 seater plane for Matei, Taveuni nearly 2 1/2 hours late. At the airport, after listing the plane as delayed, our flight was taken off the board, with new boarding schedule as "pacific time" or whenever. I noticed the planes' right tire was 2/3 full and the left was completely bald as we taxied down the runway. Although expecting a crash landing, we safely touched down onto the "garden isle" as Taveuni is known due to its abundant flora.


We were met by a wild-eyed 1/2 German dude and a straight laced Indo-fijian who took us to the dock for a 40-minute crossing of the strait. The German explained that he was Silesian, which as a result of World War II and the redrawing of political boundaries, he was a German and Polish citizen - which sounded like a great place to come from if you're a secret agent. We boarded the aluminum boat and roared full-throttle across the pounding waves of the strait. As usual the boat driver said the rough waves were nothing. On the website Dolphin Bay Divers Retreat sounded remote, describing itself as without roads, disco, or electricity. As we approached a sandy cove of the south of Vanua Levu, I saw no roads or disco, yet also no resort. Immediate paranoia set in, as i thought we could be on the menu, until i noticed a smiling Fijian lady come out of the rainforest. She was a documented smiler, as she later showed us a Book of Smiles with her picture in it.



We were introduced to our hosts, a wonderful lady from germany who ran the retreat and her partner from switzerland who operated the dive shop. Our bure was constructed of bamboo and corrugate, and located a stones throw from the ocean. The host said not to worry about the paper work, just relax. Note to self- we had truly entered the garden of eden. To our surprise there were solar powered lights during the day and a generator in the morning and evening hours. We were free to enjoy heaven, except for a few simple rules. The brown dog could not be petted, the 7 cats could not be fed, yet the white bog named socks was fair game for anything. The retreat was in the middle of nowhere, but run with german efficiency. We spent the first evening meeting the other guests, and drinking Fijian bitter beer.



The other clientele were reminiscent of the casts of a television show. There was a semi gay Swiss man, who was traveling with an Indian guy from Australia. The swiss guy was famous for yelling obscenities in English, out of context and for seemingly no reason at all. The first time i met the Austrlaian guy i thought he was mentally retarded, michelle thought he had too many drinks. We were both wrong, as this was his normal persona, which included walking up to you and identifying his name and where he was from in a thick Australian accent, although he grew up in India&England. He would sing songs into the night, accompanied by one of the dive masters who played guitar. He would ask you to visit him or tell you when he was coming to your home for a visit -- the day he left we breathed a sigh of relief. There was the 1/2 german who had come to the island for an undetermined amount of time, to do undetermined things, as he recently received an inheritance (German spy anyone?). There was an angry German man, who reminded me of a prussian general, who had dived over 10,000 times and had done everything known to man. There was a California blond, who had a sushi roll named after her and believed you could pick wild oranges from any tree in California. A Cardiology medical student, who instantly attended to anyone complaining of sniffles or sore muscles. This collection of characters spent christmas together on a remote, small island in the south pacific.


Adhering to German time standards, at exactly 7:15am each morning the generator would snap into action, which was the signal for the start of the day. We would stroll over to the dive shop, organize our gear, and sit down for a breakfast of brewed coffee, fresh fruit, and toast. My only complaint (which being American Im entitled to at least one) revolved around the family style seating, where every meal was shared at a communal table. This sounds organic and wonderful, until the Australian man started bellowing an Indian love song and the Swiss man commences to belt out obscenities at awkard moments. In hindsight it was interesting to meet such a strange cast of characters and learn about their lives.



Around 8am, the dive boat would pull out and we would discuss the dive plan for the day. Depending on the currents, weather, and who was diving a suitable site would be discussed en route. Boat dives are a bit different from land dives, which we had been doing in Samoa. Each person has a partner, who simultaneously backrolls with you off the boat into the water, and you rendezvous before descending. Usually, there are 4-5 divers and 2 dive masters, who know the reef and its inhabitants. The first dive was a bit of a shock as the current was excessively strong, blowing the divers down the reef, meeting up at the bottom was difficult, as we all had to hang onto the various hard corals to keep from being blown away. My first glimpse of the reef was memorable, as the visibility was amazing and the colors of the reef reminiscent of a district of neon signs. After re-grouping, we changed directions in order to follow the current. After 45 minutes of interstellar moonwalking, we surfaced and reboarded the boat, many sustaining deep cuts and bruises. The Prussian General sustained the worse injries, and stated that he had never been in such a strong diving current. To pass the time during the hour wait on the surface in order to avoid nitrogen building up in the bloodstream, we drank tea and ate biscuits and discussed the dive plan for the 2nd dive.


When first learning to dive the underwater world seems supernatural, yet as you return to the ocean depths, things become more familiar, and as humans we begin to categorize. The most difficult thing for new divers is learning buoyancy. Each diver wears a weight belt to help them sink, and regulate their depth with their BCD or Bouyancy Control Device, which has 2 buttons for ascending/descending. Depending on how deep you go, a mandatory safety stop occurs before surfacing, lasting from 3-5 minutes. This is based on mathematical formulas, to keep you from getting The Bends (joint pain) or a condition arising from the precipitation of dissolved gasses into bubbles inside the body on depressurisation. Its effects may vary from joint pain and rashes, to paralysis and death If you do get the bends, you must be taken immediately to a re-compression chamber, and the nearest one to rainbow reef was a 2 hour flight to the main island of Vitu Liti.


The week was filled with artistically named dive sites called: The Zoo, Rainbow End, The White Wall, Jerry's Jelly, The Edge, Annie's Bommies, Cabbage Patch, Fish Factory, ect. The aquarium was filled with white tip & black tip reef sharks, which are typically smaller and less aggressive types of sharks (divers are generally more agressive). Other larger species included green turtles, spotted sting rays, baarcuda schools, Picasso triggerfish, Moorish Idol, Anemones, etc. The geography of the dives ranged from pure drift dives (where the boat drops you off at one end and you basically float on the current to the other end), caves and tunnel dives, hard coral and soft coral walls. Like a choreographed dance, the weather was sunny and brilliant each dive, wind was minimal, vibility 40 meters, water temperatures around 29 degreees celcius.


After diving we would clean the gear with fresh water, as salt water is extremely corrosive. Have lunch, which could include a freshly caught fish from the local fisherman. Followed by reading and nap time, the amount of energy spent diving makes even the most energetic spaz take a snooze. Communal dinners were in the open air with beach view. The Swiss Dive Operator and I spent many a night talking about Polynesian, Africa and south East Asian adventures, politics, and religion. for such a remote location and limited electricity, the bungalows were comfortable, spotless, and the food excellent. They even have a wine list, to share boozy evenings with fellow divers swapping fish stories. Being a closet romantic, I arranged for a candle lit dinner for 2 on the the beach with a bottle of red. We laughed away the evening as the tide creeped under the table.



The valley where the retreat was located had an arid micro-climate, where little rainfall occured. They told us that a cyclone had come through last week and brought a bit of rain, if not they would have been switching to bucket showers. On all toilets the slogan- "if its yellow stay mellow & if its brown flush it down" got to the point of water conservation. The organization of the retreat had Fijian women working in the kitchen and cleaning rooms, Fijian men as dive masters and boatsmen, Tuvaluan as groundskeepers, and Indians as taxi drivers to/from airport. Tuvalu is a small coral atoll in the south pacfifc, which may be one of the first victims of global warming. As a result of the threat, they bought an island in Fiji and moved 12,00 people to Kaio near the rainbow reef.


Mid-week, we decided to experience some of the beauty of Taveuni above the water line. Early one morning, we crossed the Somosomo strait and traveled north through the greenery of Taveuni. The only drawback was dropping the Australian at the airport, where he gave us his information and said before we came to visit, to write him an email about where we met, who we where, and the circumstances. We both laughed about how many people this poor soul had accosted during his aggressive traveling campaign. We were headed to the secluded Lavena Coast within Bouma National Park. The guide looked a bit disappointed as we asked him to cover us for the entrance fee and that we liked to hike alone. A 4km windy path took us along a rocky coast, with secluded sandy coves, suspension bridges, and a sleeping banded coral snake that we almost stepped on (it had been sunning itself). At the end of the magical walk, we reached a stunning display of beauty, including two intersecting waterfalls leading to a crystal clear river. We had to wade a small distance upriver to the base of these majestic falls. When in Rome I thought, as I climbed the smaller falls and commenced the time honored rock slide into a pool below. Great blue herons flew overhead and time stood still. Why more people can't appreciate nature is inconceivable to me. It's always right in front of us, beckoning us to come home. At times we feel as if we're seeing things that the next generation cannot comprehend. There's something deeply satisfying about doing the dead man float in a pool under the convergence of 2 waterfalls on a sunny day. I had succumbed to the euphoric powers of the fiji tourism moniker that states: FIJI ME.


Upon our return to Dolphin Bay, the hostess suggested that we may want to spend Christmas in the next bay over where they manage an upscale resort for a California couple. I stated that we prefered our bure, and when she said that we could transfer for 3 days, 2 nights at the same price i sold out, and it was phenomenal. The rainbow reef resort had handcrafted bungalows perched on a white-sand beach: large front porch, comfortable family room, outdoor bamboo shower, ornate bedroom, we were spoiled on christmas. Im a big believer, like many americans, in free stuff or perks.



Following the conclusion of Christmas dinner (cooked in underground lovo oven) we sat on fine mats underneath the stars in a circle. Guitar music filled the background, as flying foxes swooped underneath the southern cross. In the center was the kava master of ceremonies and a large handcarved bowl of muddy colored water, before us was a 1/2 coconut sheel called a "bilo." Kava is sedating and is primarily consumed to relax without disrupting mental clarity. Its active ingredients are called kavalactones. In some parts of the Western World, kava extract is marketed as herbal medicine against stress, insomnia, and anxiety. Fijians call it "grog", due to its relaxing and groggy effects on the drinker, made by pounding sun-dried kava root into a fine powder, straining and mixing it with cold water. when the Kava master fills your cup, he asks "high tide or low tide" (small or large), you say bula and clap 2 times, followed by everyone chanting bula and clapping. Bula is a word that you hear more than any other in Fiji. It can mean hello, welcome, or even exclaimed when you sneeze. It means life and is a way of saying good health to the recipient. By the end of the 800th round, we were all laying supine and singing songs like west virginia, buffalo soldier, and many fijian songs we didn't know the words to.


The last few days we lazed on our private beach deck, snorkeled, and hiked through the extensive trail network in the hills surrounding the resort. With only 2 other groups, the resort was more like a wealthy person's house that we were squatting in for a few days. The Prussian general's girlfriend had arrived, and a swiss souple working for the international red cross were our distant neighboors. After many sedating afternoons reading books: Paul Farmer in Haiti, The Sushi Revolution, and Ann Raynd cult classic Fountainhead our time in the garden of eden was coming to a close. The whole staff including the owners presented us with symbolic beads and sang us a farewell song. As we crossed the Somosomo strait one last time, we felt like we were returning from some strange planet. Im still not a resort kind of guy, but Dolphin Bay Divers is a special place, truly a retreat from the world.


While waiting for our red-eye flight back to samoa, somebody came up and said "hey doc you headed back to pago?". You know you live in a small place when 2 countries over someone recognizes you and wants to share a taxi when you get back. After arriving back in Samoa, we split the fare to transfer airports. He and his wife stated that they had spent a week shopping in the 2 largest cities on the main island and were disappointed. When asked about our experience we stated " it was ok," at which the man replied "there's nothing like pago though right doc". We arrived at the airport at 4am, which had no lights and the guard had to let us in. We shared 4 slabs on concrete for the next 3 hours with an old solo Italian lady, who had visited 235 countries, and 3 guys from Vanuatu who had never left their small islands. They had been on 4 flights (their first flying experience), and were headed to pago to work on the fishing vessels for 2 years. We helped them with their immigration papers and called their company to notify them of their arrival. Imagine the culture shock for these guys who had never met an American before, let alone an American Samoan. Our car was not towed from the airport, started without trouble, and our house was not broken into during our vacation. All in all it was a great excursion into the Melanisian crossroads of Fiji.

Enter the Dragon

The dilapidated car screeched up the steep incline to the highest village on the island, A'oloaufou, elevation roughly 1317ft. Through the cracked windshield rain clouds loomed heavy in the distance, as we explained our itinerary to the local land owner- the plan was to hike along the ridge line, due west until reaching the end of the island, where we would bisect the road and hitchhike back. The man asked where our machetes were and we explained we had none, only a compass with altimeter. As with many instances when Samoans think Palagi's are behaving irrationally, he just smiled and said have a nice day.


On the map, the area looked like a mass of unbroken green, transected only by the ridge line. No roads, paths, Pizza Hut, Disco music- only wilderness. My brief encounters with the largest section of virgin rain forest on the island, had been camping in sandy coves during kayak trips and an unsuccessful boar hunting trip on the edge of one of the valleys. In modern times only wild boar roamed this section of the island, yet in traditional society, footpaths dotted the landscape and people used to walk between villages. The retracing of ancient footpaths, just a sea kayaking along the abandoned northern coast provides a time machine into the olden ways. Where roads and sport utility vehicles had not carved up the soporific coastline.

The Swedish radiologist & I followed a small toe-path through the back of the village, as the skies opened up. We huddled under a thicket, and discussed the educational television project that had been instituted in the 1960's here. Within 3 years of its inception, the subsistence farming dropped significantly, progress on the move. As the mist lifted off our shoulders, we continued the trek. After backtracking a time or two, we came to a taro field next to a corrugate shelter. The swede, being on-call from the hospital received a call from the emergency room. Head CT needed to be read as soon as possible, unfortunately being in one of the more remote regions of the island without a vehicle, mobility was limited. Luckily another Scandinavian radiologist was at home and accepted the job as we continued our quest.

We walked to the edge of the scorched taro plantation, and found a pig trail behind some bushes. Taro, aka steroid of the pacific, provided much needed complex carbohydrates in the past, now it secures American Samoa's title as the most obese nation in the world at 93.5%. When the novice hiker is walking in the woods, they feel alienated by their surroundings, things can seem almost threatening. After spending some time in nature, you begin to realize how interconnected things are and your senses become heightened. One of these aspects is following animal tracks or in this case a pig track. The low shrubbery concealed all but a glimpse of the well-trodden soil below, but without question provided a reliable track if you looked close enough.

We maintained an elevation of 350m with westward direction, discussing the importance of The Swede's compass and altimeter. Without these aides, the bush would become disorienting, as the ridge line twist and turns gaining and losing altitude. We did not here the ocean during the course of the trek, only the rushing sounds from clear mountain streams as they navigated the divide. If there is one thing besides taro and bananas that Samoa has in abundance, its water. The only sign of the elusive boar was a few tracks in mud pits along the spine of the dragon. Occasionally, losing the trail we stumbled on many artifacts of traditional society, stones from foundations and some type of rounded bowl carved from solid rock.

Except for a colony of flying foxes, occasional birds such as the kingfisher, we were alone with the mountain. After six hours of rappelling down steep hillsides, rock climbing cliff faces, and maintaining our western bearing, the concept of darkness entered the play. With only a headlamp and some peanuts, spending a night with the mosquitoes in the forest seemed like good possibility. Hence, we decided to enter the veins of the mountain, and follow the river system south to civilization. This proved very difficult, as the streams became rivers, and the rivers ultimately waterfalls. Being a microscopic organism would have been a great way to run the rapids, but unfortunately being a human, it was overtly awkward and dangerous. Luckily, rivers change their direction over years, leaving a lower grade on one side for coming down the mountain.

We had descended over 200 meters, yet knew at some point the small waterfalls would become a miniature Niagara falls, we had too much elevation. As the slopes of the water system became steeper and the flow of the water increased, we knew that spending a night in the green maze was all but inevitable. This prospect would eventually require us to re-climb the mountain, as there was no suitable level ground to sleep horizontally. Just when the situation looked dire, i noticed a lone banana plant to my right. I had not seen a banana plant along the entire trek, and as we pulled ourselves over the ledge- the mother lode- a plantation and sounds of the sea crashing along the shoreline. We had reached the end of the island, and had stumbled onto taro fields interspersed with old army surplus tents. A few Samoans where constructing a small house, and looked no more surprised to see us then had we been one of the chickens strutting around.

A "Malo" greeting was exchanged and they pointed us in the direction of the road. I asked why they were living in tents so far up in the mountains. They explained that that the tsunami had destroyed their village and they were afraid to live along the coast. They had been squatting in the hills for almost 2 months and planned to rebuild there settlement here. In order not to intrude, we thanked them for there help and proceeded down the path. We had not heard of people living in the mountains after the disaster. The path was well constructed with a slight grade, providing a wonderful descent to sea level. The Swede & i joked about what good fortune it was to encounter the camp, which had been the best route all day, no tracking skills required.

As we descended to the road, we marveled at how camouflaged the trail was and what great effort was needed to climb the 1/2 mile trail to their homes. Only, a tsunami could make a Samoan leave his idyllic seaside village and coerce them live in the hills. We wondered how many other tents were in the mountains, people reconstructing their lives after so much loss. A truck appeared from around the bend and we hopped in the back. We guzzled a cold beer and beamed at the adventure, which seemed almost choreographed, as if pulled by marionette strings.


We ended the afternoon at the local Filipino pizza shop, finishing every last slice from a large hand tossed vegetarian. The emergency room paged The Swede again, this time his presence was mandatory. We parted ways covered in dirt, smelling like wet dogs, and completely content. The map stated we had walked only 10 miles, but like many things in life- if you take the road less traveled, the experience cannot be quantified.

Orwellian Pleasure Spots

If there is only one thing that i know deep down in my soul, its that we (civilization) are way off track. People may pick something that they find troubling: industrialized war, garbage, obesity, environmental destruction, computerized interpersonal relations- yet they fail to see the larger picture or gestalt- the whole system is faulty. I know there are many others who think along the same lines, but seems as if we are the vast minority. Personally, i think that if more people read history (not only European based), we would start to see a trend. Is the United States really a beacon of freedom, where we only have to return to the ideals of the founding fathers (who at the time of writing the constitution owned slaves, massacred Indians, and treated women as cattle).

Ive written before about the concept of free time- how shall i live my life-
we are programmed to accept leisure activities after 8 hours of work and a 40 hour work week (compared with hunter gathers who worked 4 hours). All told people receive on average 2 weeks of vacation per year until retirement age. As they toil away their waking hours, people focus their spiritual energy of these times away from "the grind." Unfortuantely, the way people utilize these hours neither fulfiils or refreshes them in any susbstantial manner. Here lies the root of aspects of mental illness, stress- and its friends anxiety & depression.

The author George Orwell (1984, animal farm) mused on these issues in his short story Pleasure Spots, which he wrote while living in an isolated farmhouse in the Shetland islands off the northern coast of Scotland in 1948. He picture these future pleasure spots where people would spend their leisure hours.

1. One is never alone.
2. One never does anything for oneself.
3. One is never within sight of wild vegetation or natural objects of any kind.
4. Light and temperature are always artificially regulated.
5. One is never out of the sound of music.

(sounds like a carnival cruise or the modern tourism industry)

The music should be the same music for everybody-its the most important ingredient. Its function is to prevent thought and conversation, and to shut out any natural sound, such as the song of birds or the whistling of the wind, that might otherwise intrude.

The lights must never go out.
The music must always play,
Lest we should see where we are;
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the dark
Who have never been happy or good.

The question only arises because in exploring the physical universe man has made no attempt to explore himself. Much of what goes by the name of pleasure is simply an effort to destroy consciousness. If one started by asking, what is man? what are his needs? how can he best express himself? one would discover that merely having the power to avoid work and live one's life from birth to death in electric light and to the tune of tinned music is not a reason for doing so. Man needs warmth, society, leisure, comfort and security: he also needs solitude, creative work and the sense of wonder. If he recognised this he could use the products of science and industrialism eclectically, applying always the same test: does this make me more human or less human? He would then learn that the highest happiness does not lie in relaxing, resting, playing poker, drinking and making love simultaneously. And the instinctive horror which all sensitive people feel at the progressive mechanisation of life would be seen not to be a mere sentimental archaism, but to be fully justified. For man only stays human by preserving large patches of simplicity in his life, while the tendency of many modern inventions-in particular the film, the radio and the aeroplane-is to weaken his consciousness, dull his curiosity, and, in general, drive him nearer to the animals.

I Fought the Law & the Law Won

Pago Pago, American Samoa (CNN) -- When an earthquake-triggered tsunami cascaded into this tiny island in late September, the result was 34 lives lost and untold millions in property damage. But a CNN investigation to air on tonight's "AC 360" has uncovered an array of unsettling facts that point to a single conclusion: this natural disaster was in many ways a man-made tragedy.

Public records show that the Department of Homeland Security had awarded millions of federal dollars in grants for disaster preparedness here, including the construction of an island-wide siren warning system. But all the federal funding was frozen in early 2007 after DHS inspectors found that the local American Samoan government had been diverting millions of those dollars for its own uses.

Birdsall Alailima, director of American Samoa's territorial office of Homeland Security from 2003 through 2007, now lives in southern Illinois, not far from St. Louis, Missouri. He showed CNN on a map exactly where on the island the sirens were to have been placed. Thirty towers in all, he said, with 30 sirens that could have been activated by the push of a single button.

"You're saying that the systems should have been in place?" CNN correspondent Drew Griffin asked him.

"Absolutely," Alailima said.

"And people died as a result?"

"Yes."

He's not the only one who thinks so. Federal sources told CNN they believe that had the warning system been built, the death toll would likely have been lower.

In American Samoa, however, territorial Gov. Togiola Tulafono, told CNN that he knew of no viable plan for the siren system.

"There was a study, I believe, but never a plan for a system," the governor said. "I was trying to get verification of what happened to that system, but I could not get the definite information."

Alailima said he was fired by the governor when the federal funding was frozen, and that the governor was aware of the preparations.

"I'm not going to fault them for freezing the funds," Tulafono said. "These are federal funds that they have oversight responsibility for and they saw fit to freeze the funds."

The governor told CNN he had tried to correct the problem by firing his entire homeland security staff. But, he said, that failed to solve the problem.

"All I'm saying is we have tried to work with them and have tried to get partial releases (of the money), and so far that hasn't happened."

A federal official calls the governor's statement "nonsense." American Samoa would have access to the frozen funds if it had agreed to pay back even some of the money it misused, said the official. The government and the governor refused, and the tsunami siren system was stopped, according to the official.

A spokesman for the governor's office later declined comment on the nature of the negotiations.

American Samoan government officials said they purchased another warning system -- radios that would have triggered alarms across the island. But during the CNN interview, Tulafono conceded that the system "was not in place" when the tsunami struck.

CNN has learned that the FBI is now conducting an investigation into exactly what did happen to the federal preparedness dollars sent to American Samoa. It was launched, sources tell CNN, by the Interior Department as its Insular Affairs office has federal administrative responsibility for the island.

The FBI investigation is only the latest and most recent attempt by the federal government to try to track what one federal official told CNN was "endemic" corruption on the island.

Here are only a few instances of the alleged corruption:

• Both the current Samoan lieutenant governor and a former state senator are under federal indictment on allegations of fraud, bribery and conspiracy. A trial is pending in Washington because there are no federal courts on the island. Attorneys for both men have refuted the indictment in court filings and say their clients are innocent of all the charges.

• An inspector general's report by the Department of Homeland Security issued in May 2007 cites numerous examples of American Samoan officials misusing federal grant money. The report's findings include the purchase of six flat-screen televisions for more than $25,000; purchase of executive leather chairs for $4,000; spending $77,000 on equipment no auditor could find; and extensive travel and entertainment charges, including money spent in Las Vegas, Nevada, by a Samoan official for a conference he was scheduled to have attended in Colorado.

• The DHS letter freezing its funding was sent on January 12, 2007. The action was taken because "we have found that Homeland Security Grant funds have been diverted to uses by State government offices for other than the intended use of Homeland Security funds. This is not only in violation of public trust but In Lieu of agreement as well."

In the Samoan villages destroyed by the tsunami, stories of corruption are not new.

"The government here gets a lot of money from the U.S. federal government," Heinrich Tavai told CNN as he watched members of his Lofatonoa Pentacostal Church help in the clean up. "Every year, they get millions and millions of dollars. As you see, we look like a Third World country when we should be looking more like a U.S. territory."

In half a dozen villages either wiped out or badly damaged by the tsunami, CNN could find no visible evidence of local government assistance. Workers from a tuna fish processing plant were helping in one village; in another, students from an island community college were dredging rubbish out of a stream. Red Cross officials distributed tents in other villages. Children in another village were hauling furniture on their backs to help clear the debris.

When asked about the seeming lack of local government assistance, the governor told CNN, "Our departments are out there working and working very hard, and to say they haven't seen any assistance is totally false."

Since 1995, American Samoa has received nearly $2 billion in federal grants from nearly every federal agency. On average the 65,000-population -- the size of a typical American suburb -- receives about $250 million in federal money each year. Congressional sources tell CNN that oversight has always been a problem because of Samoa's isolation and the expense involved in even mounting an investigation.

"They can do half a dozen investigations in Wyoming or California for the amount just one investigation would cost in Samoa," a source told CNN.

Federal sources said they don't believe any official is getting rich off the U.S. Treasury. Instead, they said, federal funds -- including disaster-preparedness money that was to have gone to the warning system -- were instead used to create local government jobs in an economy almost totally dependent on U.S. federal grants.

Moreover, the source added, each federal agency may have many employees whose jobs are to allocate federal funds, but only a relative handful whose jobs are to "manage" or account for that money.

In an e-mail to CNN, an Interior Department spokeswoman said that in previous administrations "there were real issues of neglect and failed oversight that must be addressed quickly, thoroughly and responsibly."

"We will help the islands rebuild and recover," said Kendra Barkoff, "but taxpayer dollars will be invested with strong oversight and full accountability."

Man on the Moon

"From birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. He is bolted to earth. But man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free."


In all probability, I may never walk on the moon or hula the rings of saturn. Yet living on an island surrounded by coral, a chance to come close exists. There is a reason that cosmonauts undertake extensive scuba training, in order to simulate the effects of outer space. Diving enables one to transcend the boundaries of space and experience altered gravity.


Due to budget constraints, it took Michelle 10 months to acquire her entire scuba arsenal. On Tutuila there is no local dive shop & the "de facto operator" from the National Park Service recently left the island for good. There is however a local dive scene, consisting of business owners, construction workers, engineers, and doctors. To fill your tank, take 5 bucks to Industrial Gases and return in the afternoon for pick-up. Previously, someone even delivered my tank to the hardware store near our house for free (that was until the tsunami leveled the store), which I reciprocated with chocolate cake.


The recent tsunami has decimated certain parts of the coral reef, leaving other sections virtually untouched. On an overcast Saturday afternoon, we headed over the pass to sleepy Fagasa Bay. The house next to where we usually launch our sea kayak and dive was decimated. A large crack split the foundation of the house in 2, all windows blown out, and our friend's things on the street. He recounted the day of the tsunami- frantically driving his family to higher ground when the first wave slammed their car into a concrete wall, water rushing over top of the vehicle. Luckily, they managed to emerge unscathed, he said "families are harder to repair than houses." He was sweeping up the rubbish that once was all his earthly belongings, said he "never saw anything like this before."


After such a melancholic story, we descended beneath the 1.37ft high tide. Fagasa reef is a land of enchantment, with coral spirals resembling Gothic architecture. The dive plan followed a northeast bearing, returning at 1500 psi or half-tank. Species encountered: Green turtle, Moorish idol, Surgeonfish, Giant clams, Sea slugs, Pipefish, Racoonfish, Clownfish, Trevally, among others. Dive log maximum depth 42 feet, 57 minutes, overcast. For you camera geeks, photography was shot with Olympus 740 stylus with Pt-035 waterproof case.


As a student in July/August of 2008, I recall thinking how great it would be to live in a place where you could scuba dive after work. With Faga'alu reef in front of the hospital and Utelei reef 5 minutes from the house, we can dive twice per week. The world seems to become larger when you dive, as you transcend into another medium. Also, the cardiovascular work-up keeps the arteries open.

Our brief diving history started in September 2008, becoming PADI certified after a 5 day course in Hilo, Hawaii. After much research, we embarked on a 3 month trip through the coral triangle- Philippines, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea. Home to the highest density of marine life/coral diversity in the world. Now living in the Samoan islands, we are slowly building a catalog of diving experience.


"A lot of people attack the sea, I make love to it."
Jacques Yves Cousteau

The Rising of the Palolo

The palolo (Eunice viridis) is a segmented saltwater reef worm that lives below the low tide level in the crevices of shallow coral reefs. The worms seldom leave their burrows and are active mostly at night. Once or twice a year, however, great masses of the worms swarm to the ocean's surface to spawn as part of a predictable life cycle.

The palolo itself consists of two parts, a worm-like forward portion up to 10 centimeters long with eyes and a mouth, and a narrower 20-centimeter rear portion which is used for reproduction. The rear part is blue-green in the female and reddish in the male, and has a light-sensative eyespot. When the moment to spawn arrives one night, the palolos back out of their burrows and detach their rear portions. The front parts squirm back into the reef to begin growing new appendages for the next season, while the male and female tails swarm to the surface, writhing together until dawn when they burst, releasing the eggs and sperm. The fertilized eggs become larvae that drift along until they find a place in the coral to colonize.

The numberless worms must rise simultaneously for fertilization to take place, and this mass spawning always occurs on the last quarter moon in late spring, which in Samoa is seven days after full moon in late October or early November. Swarming can occur on two or three successive nights, with the second night being the most important. A brown foamy slick on the ocean surface and a strong salty smell, usually caused by a mass spawning of corals, often signals that the palolo will spawn two days later.

This event takes place in spring because at that time the larvae have their best chance of survival. Many species of fish and shellfish have adapted their lifestyles to that of the palolo, spawning around the same time so the palolo larvae will be available as a food source for their own offspring.

Although the palolo is common throughout the South Pacific, it doesn't swarm everywhere. The phenomena is best known in Samoa and Fiji, although it also occurs in Tonga and parts of Melanesia. The islanders have long considered palolo a delicacy to be eaten raw or fried, and it has an extremely rich taste and is high in protein. Thus each year on the assigned night, locals will be waiting with hand nets to scoop up in large numbers this caviar of the Pacific.

In Samoa, the people traditionally adorn themselves in the fragrant yellow blossoms of the moso'oi flower for the occasion. If you happen to be in Samoa or Fiji in October or early November, it's certainly worth asking when the rising of the palolo will occur. Sadly though, environmental degradation and overharvesting have taken their toll, and you must get away from major population centers to witness the spectacle at its best.

Radio Pago

In the early hours of September 29th a wall of water crashed over the jagged shoreline of Tutuila and changed the lives of its inhabitants forever. All told, 32 physical bodies were counted in American Samoa, yet the emotional lives affected roughly 69,000. This is a place where everyone knows everyone in some way or another.


Nearly 2 weeks after the tsunami, the remaining destruction is still staggering, the lingering stories spellbinding. Two neighbors drowned to the left of our house, in front the house flooded, cars were thrown into telephone polls, on the right 3 FEMA tents stand where once a persons home stood.


Stories

1. A women saw the water surging through her village, crushing houses instantly, her house is barely habitable. Yet, she has the only running toilet in her village, where everyone must come and do their business.
2. A co-worker know lives in a tent as her house simply doesn't exist anymore. Yet, she is at work just as before.
3. Children were recalled to school, even though some do not have homes any longer, their uniforms have been washed away, power flickers throughout the day.
4. A women has difficulty sleeping, because her village has no electricity, every sound in the night feels like another tsunami.
5. Emergency personnel have difficulty putting the image of a drowned child out of their minds, so much innocence.
6. Groups of villagers not wanting to leave the safety of the mountains elevation, for fear of the water returning.
7. A man driving his pickup truck to outrun the wall of water, not fast enough, as the car simply starts to float.
8. A couple tries to sail their boat against the rising waves as their boat capsizes, leaving only the wife to tell the story.
9. Cruise ships arrive to gawk and snap photos of others misery, the governor states that we cannot jeopardize the burgeoning tourist industry.
10. The golf course was officially closed last week, in order for top officials to conduct village assessment, if not they would be working on their swing.
11. Valium 5mg by mouth before bed, being handed out by the hospital to help an island avoid the nightmares.
12. An old man tells me that he was sipping tea as they waves poured through his house, laughing because he had Jesus in his heart.
13. Two elderly women were weaving baskets following the earthquake, when a palangi (white person)told them a tsunami warning was issued- they laughed at the fear of the foreigner- these women were swept out to sea.
14. At first, when a retired marine saw he waters rise- he thought to himself, "man this could be some good fishing".
15. Many people around the island believe the villages that were swept away, were due to the wickedness of the people. God's vengeance as non-believers.


As the worlds media attention, forgets the name Pago, the people slowly pickup the pieces. Picture 2 sets of fingers grasping onto edge of a ledge and you have the current state of affairs in Pago. This coincides with the demise of the local tuna industry, which employs 80% (in some shape or form) of the island. Seems like poor people always get the short end of the stick.


As one surveys the damage, ships are sprinkled randomly on the hillsides, the air is thick with dust/debris, water contaminated, cars upside down, buildings demolished, things not where they used to be. Yet, through all this carnage I counted as many smiles on the street as before, Samoans pushing on with pride and dignity.


These images are all within 2 minutes drive of our home. We feel lucky to be have spared the brunt of this tragedy, as our cottage sits on a hillside overlooking the may lay. I distinctly remember, saying to Michelle "i want a house by the seaside, a real south pacific dream," with my better half responding "we want a place that won't flood on a hillside." I will update as the saga continues and i travel to the outer villages. That's all from Radio Pago.

This blog took a week to publish, as electricity returned last night- 3 weeks after the tsunami.

Tsunami ER- surgical technician perspective

The ER is getting there but we still have people coming in who didn't have a way to get in before because of the road damages on the western side of the Island. Lots of infected wounds are coming back in from being seen on tues. It was not entirely a thorough treatment because everyone was doing everything at one time and were focusing on a treat-n-go type of treatment. We were overwhelmed in the first half of the day and soon after help came but that was after we treated most of the injuries. No Iv abx, tet tox, pain meds. Just look, local and clean. All of the wounds were dirty and filled with sand and stuff. The elderly were coming in also because of some mental breakdown and came in just because they were frightened, loss of loved ones, house gone, and all. The emotionally disturbed, drug seekers, those with the casper pain syndrome, and to tell you about the smell.

Tsunami Eyewitness

Hi everyone,

First off, I wanted to let everyone know that Meow (our cat) and I are both ok. We were lucky enough to have a house up on a hill, and was left largely unaffected. To everyone who doesn't know the story, though:

Yesterday morning, I was jolted awake by the earthquake, and waited for it to end, and waited, and waited. It seemed like one of the longest moments in my life. I finally got up and eyed the door frame to see if I should start standing under it. Finally, though, it subsided.

I walked out of the bedroom and tried to find Meow. She was hanging by her claws on one of the curtain rods. I didn't know if she was rattled by the earthquake, or was just excited by the buoyancy it gave her. Either way, I grabbed her and started preparing for work. As I was fiddling with the computer, I looked out of the window, and saw the first tidal wave heaving all the boats in the harbor to and fro, like so much dead twigs in a pond. That's when I ran to the other window for a better view. It was a storm without the rain. A perfect sunny day, but with the damage of a hurricane. There were a series of waves that swept to and fro, and only later did I hear that the force was so strong that it literally sucked the water dry from the reef when it receded, and then smashed the water against the shore when it came back in. This went on for a good part of an hour, after which I only remembered to start calling people. I got a hold of Tim in Maryland (he's on a conference trip), and told him excitedly about what happened. It was still exhilarating at this point, since I've never seen anything like it.

But only after putting the phone down did the horrors actually start. Groups of people started running up our steep driveway. I waited for a bit, because our landlord's wife was crying and screaming for her kids. After a little bit, I ventured outside, and asked her if they were ok. She said that their house is flooded, and that on the next fale over, a woman had drowned, and her 4-year old girl was missing. I don't know if they have found her already.

The power went out shortly after I spoke to Tim, and the water, and then the phones. It was at this time that I started cataloguing the contents of the fridge and pantry. Around 1pm, I finally took out our camping stove and cooked my lunch (our stove is electrical), and slept/read the day away. This was around the time that I became really grateful that Tim had bought that case of water for emergency. The sirens went non-stop the whole morning and evening, and since I had no other sources of information, so I just decided to stay indoors and avoid getting in the rescue people's way.

Towards afternoon, I tried the cellphone again, and was able to call my mom, and assured her I was ok. Dada, another Filipina I know here, finally got a hold of me too via phone, and offered me a place to stay. However, seeing as I couldn't leave Meow, I told her I was fine for now. Instead, I passed the night away, reading with our camping flashlights, and sleeping with Meow in bed.

In the morning, I woke up and was half expecting another earthquake or tsunami to happen (yes, worst-case scenario), but I didn't know that the disaster I was expecting would happen as I drove through the blasted landscape later that morning. Instead, I got up and took out all the food that I could save from the fridge, took a bar of soap, and grabbed my backpack. I would be taking a shower at work, and cooking my dinner in our work kitchen.

When I finally got out, they had cleared off the debris on the road from yesterday, so that people could drive already. However, they could not clear the destruction on the sides of the road. I drove through a landscape so unreal, so unlike the familiar, that it felt like I was driving on another land. There were so many cars that were stranded on the sides of the road, smashed up and beyond repair, that any Samoan who first looked upon them would probably end up sobbing. I counted 10 boats on people's lawns, and finally stopped counting; it was just too depressing. It turned out that the only boats that were saved were the ones that had people living on them, i.e. rich people's yachts, who were able to maneuver throughout the tempest the whole time. All the other boats, the fishermen's boats, the working men's boats, the poor people's boats, are now decorating people's yards. I passed by a large wooden house that was uprooted and smashed against a neighbor's. There were spaces of land that seemed strange to me, and only later did I find that some whole houses were completely swept away.

It turned out that the areas most affected was a village (Leone) on the far west side, and Pago Harbor, where we lived. The water had funneled through the harbor's opening, and added impetus to the already terrifying rush of water, so that the bottom part of the harbor was devastated. Only the upper arms of the harbor escaped with only a slight rising of water. The gas station that Tim liked, the korean market, and countless homes were smashed up, but hey, at least McDonald's is still standing, hooray hooray.

When I got to work, I started hearing more stories of what happened. The power plant close to us was destroyed and we would have no power for the next month, another Filipina was washed away and found in a creek, a Korean store owner drowned inside his store. So many stories, so many people that someone knew.

What finally got through the fog to me though was how small the community here was. One person would call someone else and started checking if everyone there was ok, and then that person would call other people they knew, and so on. By this morning, everyone knew who was missing, who was there when it happened, and who has survived. Two completely unrelated people that I know was able to track and call each other, trying to find out if either one had talked to me. Tenuous relationships like this become even more tangible, networks of people become even more defined, and stories of people you know are more heartfelt. Indeed, in a small community, your best resource, whether for help, for information, or just for comfort, is the people around you.

Michelle Brinker

Ofu on My Mind

When living on an island (no matter the size or environment), at a certain interval a desire exists to get off and search for something else. This logic may have been similar to what lead Polynesians to sail thousands of miles across open ocean without knowledge of their destination. The urge to explore lies dormant in much of our daily existence, repressed beneath TVO, Mcdonalds, and Survivor re-runs. Without quite the bravado as our predecessors, we planned a weekend getaway to volcanic bow-tie shaped Ofu/Olesega islands (2.786 sq m). These idyllic islands are the definition of remote <14.175°S 169.618°W>, as time marches along much as its has in the past. Islanders retain many traditional ways that have fallen by the wayside in Tutuila.

The only transport (besides the 8 hr overnight ferry), interisland airlines, has a "charter" license which allows them to fly when ever they want, reservations are relative. For labor day weekend, we planned on departing on friday and returning on monday- simple enough. After a cancellation to the friday flight for unknown reasons we were flying high the next day in a 9-Seater Britten-Norman Islander. To give you an idea- it was similar to riding in a crowded soccer mom van on the way to the big game. It was disimilar with respect to the 65.3 million square miles of vast blue water underneath the wings of the prop islander.

After 27 minutes of airtime Ofu island airstrip came into full view and the pilot (with backward baseball cap) touched down about 20 feet from the sea. Thankfully, the driveway/airstrip is also the front lawn of the lodge, leaving us a 2 minute walk to our oceanfront room. Heavenly, peaceful, & serene are the words that pop into most visitors heads as they grab a large vailima brew and switch the auto-pilot on "hang" mode. The open vista of steep cliffs, golden beaches, and crayola reefs are reminisent of a Salavador Dali painting.

After dropping your bags, the national park is less than a five minute walk. Soon the crown of the American Samoa National Park comes into view, a powder keg of fine white sand stretching forever. When a person conjures up an image of polynesia, they are thinking of Ofu Island. The protected reef, namely hurricane hole is the icing on the cake, as a dazzingly array of marine creatures mingled between castle-like corals. Attention all neurons! We are now commencing stress reduction.
Hidden within the lodge bookshelf, I found an excellent book about a biologist who joined a troop of baboons in the Serengetti Plains, thus i commenced to disappear for 2 days. After feasting on barracuda, draining the beer supply, and reading about far away lands- the rains came. More like a wall of rain, which nearly blew the roof off. Needless to say, the airline cancelled all flights (2) and we were holed up in paradise. The winds continued to howl through the night into the next day. I was a bit nervous calling work and explaining that i was stuck on the most beautiful island in the archipelago, yet they seemed to understand as flood conditions had gripped the main island.Even returning on Tuesday seemed like a long shot- as the clouds obstructed the landing strip and winds persisted. When suddenly the courageous little islander bursts through the clouds and did a swan dive onto the 10 X 10 landing strip. Through the pouring rain the pilot yelled "all aboard" and we literally sprinted into the van, i mean plane. Before the fake background music could roll, the left engine stalled. The determined pilot seemed to look up and think why me, finally the engine roared and came to life. We taxied down the airstrip and took off into a sheet of gray, blown by the occasional wind gusts. As we all bumped fists "obama style," as i vaguely recalled that there was no radar (or windshield wipers) and the pilot was basically shooting from the hip.
Anyway, all ended well as your reading the author's blog.

General Meow Zedong Jr.

Blackfeet Dreams

The Sweat

After two weeks on the Blackfeet Indian reservation in Browning Montana, I was sitting around the tiny community health clinic of Heart Butte thinking about community service projects. I knew that I wanted to experience the spiritual side of traditional medicine and had heard that certain tribe members practice sweat lodge ceremonies. The only way to be invited to one of these is through word of mouth, as they are not advertised in the local paper. Also, I wanted the lodge to be a learning experience for all those involved, where I could learn things and also teach others about health. As fate would have it, I worked with a half-blood doctor that day who invited me to a sweat lodge.

The sweat lodge is a ceremonial sauna and an important ritual used by some North American First Nations or Native American peoples. There are several styles of sweat lodges that include a domed or oblong hut similar to a wickiup, or even a simple hole dug into the ground and covered with planks or tree trunks. Stones are typically heated in an exterior fire and then placed in a central pit in the ground. The traditions vary from tribe to tribe, but a few themes remain the same:

1. Orientation- the door usually faces the fire (we faced a lake)

2. Construction- the lodge is built with great care and respect to the local environment (skins, furs, wood)

3. Clothing- native american participants usually wear simple garments: a short dress or shorts (swim trunks)

4. Offerings- various types of plant medicines are used to make prayers (tobacco, sage)

5. Support- one or more participants will remain outside the lodge to provide protection (fire-keeper)

6. Darkness- it is important to provide complete darkness, except for the stones (dark as night)

The doctor told me that I should come with an open mind, swim trunks and a towel. As I approached the lodge, I noticed a man stoking a fire next to a lake, where the setting sun was reflected off the waters and two geese played with each other in the distance. As I entered the lodge I noticed eight other people, grouped by gender, surrounding an open pit. Soon flaming red stones were rolled into the pit and sprinkled with sage, and the door was sealed. I thought to myself that maybe this was a mistake as the temperature continued to rise, Dante’s Inferno had begun. The leader of the sweat was an older chief who spoke mostly in Blackfoot, but occasionally in English for my convenience. Hand carved tobacco pipes were passed around and one by one people prayed for whatever they wanted or just talked about life. Some talked about the need for healing of the earth, praying for a sick friend, stories of old ways, and ways to live by in the future. As the eagle feather was passed to me, indicating my turn to speak, my mind groped for something appropriate. It’s not as easy as it sounds when you’re barely clothed minority in the dead of winter among a group of strangers and drenched in perspiration.

Finally, I took a deep breath and said my thanks to everyone for allowing me to sweat with them, and to the community as a whole for making me feel welcome.

I said that I had learned a great deal from hearing others speak and would like add something to the evening. I decided to speak about metabolic syndrome, a disorder consisting of hypertension, high cholesterol, elevated blood sugar, and obesity. I stated that I was not there to talk about modern pharmaceutical and technological procedures, but simply lifestyle. There was a time that before the white man when there was no need to worry about this epidemic. However, in modern times, as the lifestyle has become more “Americanized” indigenous people around the world were experiencing this disease at higher rates than other ethnic groups. I explained that in the early 1900s, groups of scientist had traveled around the world to societies untouched by modern civilization, and found that little to no hypertension, diabetes, obesity, cancer, heart disease, gout, etc. existed. These groups ate a variety of different diets consisting of fish, meat, vegetables, animal milk and blood. The only consensus the scientists could agree on was that as the groups were introduced to civilization, namely processed foods, and their health correspondingly deteriorated.

I defined each component of the disease and stated that each has at its root cause the same element, eating processed foods and lack of exercise. In addition to utilizing the advances of modern medicine, we needed to focus on our eating habits and activities of daily living. With a change in these, we could limit the need for pharmaceutical drugs and expensive testing procedures. Finally, I stated that ceremonies like these, which used to be repressed by the government, where exponentially beneficial to health as body, mind, and spirit were aligned in a holistic way. I ended my ramble with a prayer about the need for two simple commodities that all could agree on, the need for clean air and clean water. With that I passed the eagle feather to the next person and looked around the lodge to see others nodding with approval. Three more rounds of stones were introduced into the lodge, as prayers and songs were sung into the night. .

The heat, darkness seemed to intensify with each round, as one passed between states of unconscious meditation and the discomfort of the flesh. It hard to describe the beauty of the sweat, I guess it’s akin to the struggles of life being the only ones you remember. As I sat there in my swim trunks dripping with sweat, I felt a communal sense of well-being rarely experienced. Why do the simplest things provide the greatest pleasures in life?

Timothy M. Brinker

Blackfeet Indian Reservation

April 9, 2008

A Samoan Family Reunion

When you move to a remote outpost in the world having visitors takes on the atmosphere of a carnival, where you want your visitor to sample all of the exotic delicacies and vistas that make your location unique. My mother and sister braved 2 days of flying across 7 time zones from the east coast of the U.S. Wanting to combine some vacation time where we could share something new, with the desire to show where i had been living required weeks of preparation.

Finally, the biweekly Hawaiian air flight arrived in Pago amid a downpour and Michelle & I welcomed our family with lei's and hugs. After a few glasses of Australian wine, we all slept comfortably in our bedroom (Michelle and I took the air mattress) serenaded by a mix of rain hitting the window and the methodical drone of the air-conditioning. The next morning we departed for Apia, Western Samoa on a different airline then planned, as our airline was waiting on an engine part from Florida. We planned to explore the sultry islands of 'Upolu and Savai'i over the next week, followed by a home-coming on Tutuila.

Western Samoa has been labeled "Best kept secret in the Pacific! A cultural gem with beautiful lonely beaches against a background of magnificent volcanoes and rain forest" & "Beautiful sandy beaches, many without large crowds. Culture is important. Tourists advised of and expected to comply with Fa'a Samoa—the Samoan way of life." by the National Geographic. By chance the taping of the series Survivor was also being shot on location in Upolu, Samoa- not to squash any one's pipe dream- but they were actually staying at the posh, 5 star hotel in Apia.

Samoa shares a common language/culture with American Samoa, yet has remained very traditional: with music, social hierarchy, division of labor, agriculture, fishing, diet, and lifestyle maintained at similar levels to pre-European contact. The difference between the Samoa's (west vs east) is vast and illustrates the trappings of modernization upon traditional indigenous life. I explored these issues through my masters thesis "Troubles of Modernization," which draws upon the impacts of modernization on lifestyle, more precisely the deterioration of overall health. Another stark difference is the road system, which for the most part is better is western, clocking 50+ mph for the first time in 6 months, as Tutuila's roads are too windy for more than 20 mph. With the compass set for Virgin Cove on the south side of the island, we took a sketchy back road where we forded a river, peeled wheels up the side of a mountain, and dodged voluminous chickens, pigs, and humans.

Western Samoa or Samoa declared its independence in 1962 from New Zealand. A brief colonial history of the Samoan archipelago, saw Germany, Britain, and the United States competing for its submission. As the Germans began to show more interest in the Samoan Islands, the United States laid its own claim to them. Britain also sent troops to express its interest. There followed an eight-year civil war, where each of the three powers supplied arms, training, and in some cases combat troops, to the warring Samoan parties. All three sent warships into Apia harbour, and a larger-scale war seemed imminent, until a massive storm damaged or destroyed the warships, ending the military conflict. At the turn of the twentieth century, the Tripartite Convention partitioned the Samoan Islands into two parts: the eastern island group became a territory of the United States (the Tutuila Islands in 1900 and officially Manu'a in 1904) and is today known as American Samoa; the western islands, by far the greater landmass, became known as German Samoa after Britain vacated all claims to Samoa and accepted termination of German rights in Tonga and certain areas in the Solomon Islands and West Africa. Germany went onto develop extensive copra (dried coconut meat) plantations and the U.S. developed Pago Harbor (the deepest in the South Pacific) for a naval coal refueling station.

Michelle & I stayed in a traditional fale (palm roof, open sides, no toilet) on stilts perched over a ribbon of sugar, while mom/molly were tucked away in the mangrove in a quaint chalet with private facilities. We all swam the first night in the aquamarine lagoon and were indeed living in the moment. The next morning, we traveled out the pot-hole lined road up the mountain to the Robert Louise Stevenson Estate, famed writer of Treasure Island and Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. The prolific Scotsman suffered from tuberculosis and took refuge in the alpine domain of 'Upolu, where the local people referred to him as Tusitala or teller of tales. After a brief tour of his house, we climbed a very steep track to his tomb- overlooking the flood plain of Apia.

Feeling nostalgic, we scampered back down the hill, paused briefly at the thundering 300 foot Papapapai-tai falls, and zoomed down to the sandy outpost of Lalomanu Beach. After a refreshing swim in Sopo'aga falls, we reached the wide sandy confines of Lalomanu. Feeling a bit too touristy we retreating back to the confines of secluded Virgin Cove. On our last night we were treated to a traditional Fiafia performance of dancing, singing, & music. The highlight of the evening was Molly dancing with one of the warriors to the coconut song (what happens on 'Upolu stays in 'Upolu). Good fun was had by all and we watched the sun set over the picturesque cove- God is Samoa.

The next day we traveled over the mountain pass and dropped Michelle off at the airport, as she had a project to finish on Tutuila. A trip to Apia is not compete without a visit to the Papasee'a Sliding Rock, accessed via 200-odd steep and slippery steps. The ritual involves a 16 foot slide down a waterfall into a jungle pool; mom balked at the idea and molly conceded after some persuasion to make the plunge- living la vida loca. We passed the afternoon with lunch at the iconic Aggie Grey Hotel, and introduced molly to snorkeling at the Palolo Deep Marine Reserve. Vivid hues of blue, green, & yellow corals, laid the backdrop against the kaleidoscope of fish species. Following an well-timed ice cream we retreated to Dave's Eco-lodge overlooking Apia. Only problem was Dave didn't know we were coming and had closed the lodge for the week because of local swine flu outbreak. After some coaxing, he reluctantly agreed to to provide room & board (which gave 2 out of 3 of us gastroenteritis). After using the bathroom around 2000 times, I drove us toward the ferry doc leading to Savai'i.

The scenery outside the ferry must have been amazing, unfortunately we were locked in an airtight room with little ventilation, with front row seats to the latest Australian hip-hop videos (of course the volume was all the way up). Feeling claustrophobic, we piled out the ferry and made our way to Luisa's Lagoon Chalets. A dream-like setting was waiting, our fale was overhanging the lagoon, with a ladder into the lagoon from the balcony. That night we swam under Afu Aau falls and marveled at the Alofaaga Blowholes, resembling a pacific version of old faithful. Exhausted, yet content we watched the sunset on our private balcony overlooking the lagoon.

The last day we circumnavigated the island, and briefly stopped at Vaisala Beach hotel, where mom learned to snorkel and after some coaching was motoring around the lagoon without abandon. The beach was a large swath of powder, which was pleasing to all senses. After climbing up a 10-story tree house in the Falealupo Peninsula rain forest, we leisurely cruised around the beautiful south shore and returned to Luisa's.

The return back to Tutuila was uneventful and later that night we feasted Polynesian style at a traditional umu feast at Tisa's barefoot bar. The setting was festive as they roasted shrimp, octopus, pig, chicken, fish in the underground oven. In total there were 59 participants, with doctors, politicians, teachers, pirates, and visitors sharing the merriment. The next day it rained cats n dogs, which gave us time to just relax and process the adventure of Samoa. The following day the sun peaked out from behind the clouds as we ascended a very muddy Mt Alava trail in the National Park. The 5.5km trail resembled a riverbed, with hug pieces of earth displaced. After agonizing to the top we were rewarded with beautiful vista of the harbor and surrounds. Luckily, the trail cutting crew was also on top and they offered us a ride back down. The ride turned out to be similar to Mr Toad's wild ride, as we slipped, skidded, and bucked our way down to Fagasa Pass- which sure beat walking. The evening closed with a dip in the secret lagoon and viewing of Pola Tai bird sanctuary. For dinner we cooked fresh lobster and pink snapper at Chez Brinker.

The itinerary proceeded along with a trip to serene Aunu'u island, where we circumnavigated the island. We had a wonderful picnic at the Natural Arch and did the dead man float under the verdant slopes of Pofala Hill. The ferryman took us back across to Tutuila for $1 each. No cars, very few stray dogs, and great weather provided a superb backdrop for the day trip. The last day of their visit we toured the National Marine Sanctuary and hiked to Larsen's Cove. One of the more pristine coves on Tutuila, we swam in the calm waters in the peaceful cove. To be comprehensive, I provided a tour of the LBJ Tropical Medical Center primary care clinic, which was abbreviated due to the lock down next door of a mental patient at the psychiatry clinic. Despite this, mom & molly were able to see were I toil my hours away, providing service on a 2-year contract for the National Health Scholar Corps, 1 hospital= population 69,000.

How quickly the 10 days of their visit passed. We really enjoyed entertaining and showing our family this part of the world and a glimpse into the Fa'a Samoa vortex. A person cannot fully experience a place until they personally visit and let go of their otherworldly trappings.

"I was an outsider before i was a traveler; I was a traveler before I was a writer; I think one lead to the other." Paul Theroux, Writer/Peace Corps Volunteer, Malawi 1963-65.