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.

Tau Te Ching

The Manu'a Islands group consists of three main islands: Ta'u, Ofu, and Olosega. These islands are located 70 miles east of Tutuila island (where i live) and are part of American Samoa. Having spent a week last summer on the islands of Ofu & Olosega (studying for my board exams), I wanted to visit mystical Tau, the least visited island of the Samoan archipelago. According to Samoan tradition, Tau is the birthplace of all Polynesia. It is believed that ancient people voyaged by sea from the sacred site of Saua to settle all the Polynesian islands. The island is the eroded remnant of a shield volcano with a caldera complex or collapse feature (Liu Bench) on the south face (it looks like half the island just fell into the sea). The summit of the island, called Lata Mountain, is at an elevation of 931 metres (3,050 ft), making it the highest point in American Samoa. Also, Ta‘ū is where Margaret Mead conducted her dissertation research in Samoa in the 1920s. Getting to Tau is half the challenge...the first day i spent 6 hours at the airport, repeatedly watching other passengers depart for their destinations, only to be told "were in a holding pattern." The thunderstorms seemed to prevent only Tau passengers from embarking. Finally, i noticed an old man get up and walk to the road to wait for his ride. I asked him if he had intended to go to Tau, to which he replied "tomorrow at 8." Unbeknowest to me this was no ordinary man, for this was the Se of Tau (literally meaning flower behind woman's ear). He told me to look him up once i settled in, i had acheived a connection- Fa'a Samoa. The next day the 10-seater Dornier 212 departed Pago without incident and we soon were hovering over the clear blue sea. After passing the powdery beaches of Ofu, hulking Tau came into view. Steep mountain slopes fell upon black volcanic rocks, which were slapped by the crashing waves. The National Park covers the southside of the island, protecting virgin forest, the pacific boa, flying foxes, as well as many species only found on Tau. My first adventure would be to hike down the east coast of the island and curl up around to Laufuti river (one of the purest in the pacific). Upon landing, i was greeted by Meli, who house i would be squatting in for the weekend. She seemed indifferent to my presence, but had a great view of the ocean from her back deck. The pictures of the National Park homestay program had people weaving baskets and passing around kava, Meli told me where the bathroom was and said she would be at her store (which sold imported chips, soda, and beer). Oh well, i commenced down 8km beach/cliff hike to the river. Walking along spectacular reefs, pebbly beaches, and through jungle seemed like an ideal way to spend a friday afternoon. After 6km the road thinned to path, then eventually broken brush, making trekking quite difficult. Failing to reach the fabled Laufuti river was a momentary setback; so i shifted gears & decided to take a swim and read away the afternoon. After returning home Meli and i sat on her families gravestone (which all samoans put in the front hard) eating chocolate ice cream as the Sa bell rang. This is a 15 minute period, where every village bangs gongs and you must sit and wait for the 2nd bell before returning to your activity. It signifies a time of prayer/contemplation, yet Tau has a second gong at 9pm signifiying a curfew of the streets for the night.
That night i laid in the grass under the stars and read Into the Wild. The next day i hiked up over the mountain ridge to Tau village, hoping to find the Se of Tau. The hike became extremely taxing under the blistering sun, as the road climbed steeper upon each switchback. Unfortunately, no car passed during my 6km walk through the mountains, although the vistas were quite impressive. Numerous bird species- booby, egret, kingfisher, robin...

As the road descended toward Tau village, i noticed a sign board posted on a coconut tree, stating "i will blow your truck into pieces " if you trespass. That was the first time all day that i was glad to be on foot, as having my truck blown up would have spoiled a beautiful day. Later the Se explained that the sign post, reflected a ongoing disupte about one village dumping their trash over the mountain in the other village. Either way it seemed to me that the guy meant business.

Dehydrated and fatigued, i pathetically limped into the village babbling to passersby about the Se of Tau. For having not seen many Palangi's (white people) recently, many villagers seemed fairly relaxed toward this sunburned lunatic hobbling through their village. Suddenly the Se of Tau appeared and ushered me into his house and offered me some ice water. "Where are the people who are looking after you here," i replied "your the only person i know on the island." Maybe ive perfected looking helpless to others after years of backpacking around on thin budgets... the Se gave me directions to a beautiful lagoon where i could swim and read, while he finished preparing a barbeque, followed by inisiting that he take me back to Meli's house over the mountain. I spent the rest of the afternoon in paradise, swimming in multiple coves, lagoons, and a small boat harbor. I read a bit about the founding of Australia by convicts and took a nap in the shade. I casually strolled back to Tau proper, and sat down for a feast of fresh pig, chicken, and breadfuit. The family made sure i ate a samoan style portion, which i gladly obliged. Afterwards the Se of Tau and i dicussed fishing, seafood, and samoan myths under the swaying palms as the sun began to dip. The Se took me in his familes "beat-to-hell" pickup for a small tour of the island before returning to Meli's house. The sense of serenity was overwhelming, the mystical Tau had a palpable life force. The next day i returned by plane to Pago without incident, well almost. I forgot my keys after opening a bottle of Vailima the night before. Luckily, one of my patients worked at the airline counter, and he called Meli from his cell. 2 hours later he handed me my keys and told me to go light on the Vailima next time, we both had a good laugh and he said he would be into the clinic this week. I was sinking fast under a mountain of fa'a samoa paybacks that would need to be repaid. All in all, Tau was my favorite island and the Se invited me back for more adventures sooner than later. The next trip will be camping style.