RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY. NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME.

Did Ian, the category 5 cyclone that hit Tonga make news in your part of the world? We experienced what was probably the fringe effect. No high winds. Just the better part of two weeks of round-the-clock torrential rains. We're still in the cyclone season. A wind advisory and heavy rain warning is still in effect from the Samoa Meteorology Office; no cyclones predicted. But today! Today the sky was that beautiful blue with those piles of marshmallow clouds on the horizon that we have all longed to see again. Maybe the rain has gone.

In Samoa it doesn’t rain cats and dogs. It rains cockroaches, centipedes, spiders, and creepy crawlies of unknown species (to us). In the house. Taking refuge from the deluge. But, like the old adage of jumping from the frying pan into the fire, they don’t last long.  Mostly we’ve seen a large increase in cockroaches, and thankfully most are back to the floor, feet to the sky, either dead or suffering the throes of death by what must have been a very effective spray application some months ago.  I just realized as I’m writing this that the one thing we haven’t seen is the one insect that was our most common invader – millipede. I guess the poor little suckers don’t know how to tread water. Lamoreaux’s killed eight centipedes inside their apartment.  Eight. Centipedes are the one life form that strikes fear in every Samoan. They are quick, aggressive when threatened, and their bite is very toxic. These were small, maybe three inches long, but still capable of inflicting harm.

These two cockroaches were both in the kitchen when we found them dead. I am disappointed at how small they look when I really wanted you to appreciate their .... size. When they are alive, they are all legs - long legs, long feelers, and they move very fast. (No chapstick was harmed in this demonstration.)

While attempting pursuit and going in for the kill of a living specimen, my flying foot collided with the corner of our coffee table. I am ever grateful that sandals are the recommended footwear. Still haven't been able to wear my temple shoes.

From the insignificant to the tragic: The most serious and tragic effect of the rain was the collapsing of a concrete bridge (or ford), causing the death of four people in a carload of seven.  The family and others had crossed the same bridge on their way to Faleolo Airport to pick up their returning missionary. On the return trip, in the dark and rainy conditions, they had no way of knowing the bridge had already weakened and the weight of their vehicle caused the complete collapse and a drop of some twenty feet into the rushing water. It's a wonder there were any survivors. The missionary, the driver (his bishop), and a young girl survived.

I started this writing on January 13th, which was actually the second day of partial sunshine since January 1. But even the 12^th brought the effects of the constant heavy rains far too close to home, and for our next door neighbors, right inside.  We are on a septic tank system here in our temple housing complex. Without being graphic, the water that invaded both of our closest/through the wall neighbors was not what you would call pure. I’ve introduced you to Brother and Sister Sauni in previous posts. They discovered their flooded bedroom Sunday evening. Brother Sauni’s first thought was to discover the source, which had to have come from outside. When he tried to get out his front (and only) door, he found that the workers had placed sandbags across the entrance to his door. Since his screen door opens out, he was trapped. At 80 years old (but most definitely a fit 80), he climbed out the window! The source was the laundry room drain, which is through the wall from their bedroom.  The effect to our apartment, minimal by comparison and shared by all of the other apartments, was slow flushing toilets and slow draining showers.

Brother Sauni w/wife

That pile of sand bags was leaning against that front door.  The window you can barely see, his escape.

The rain ran in torrents through the streets, through the grounds between the temple and temple housing, on the school campus and the access roads around campus, and the teacher’s housing .  Along the back fence behind the Goodlet’s (our Aussie friends) home and out to the street along the side of their yard, the workers dug a trench to help divert the water away from the houses. Sister Goodlet said she was considering planting watercress along their private creek.

Leave it to kids. Floating their flip-flops down the gutter provided hours of fun. 

Competition always makes it more interesting. Making it to the drain first determines the winner.

Looking across from temple housing to the temple.

Attendance at the temple was lighter than usual. The downpours were so heavy, the roar of rain could be heard inside the temple in spite of high ceilings, thick insulation and thick walls. The water coming off the temple roof on the west side looked like a waterfall.

Oh, you big, blue, beautiful Samoan skies! How we have missed you! 

Welcome! Please stay as long as you possibly can. 

We look forward, eyes to the sky, umbrella in hand, and, well, forgetting how hot it can be in Samoa! 

There was some advantage to those constant, heavy, grey skies. How quickly we forget.

Manuia le Kerisemasi !

This Christmas in Samoa was unique and memorable for its simplicity and its island flavor.  Almost daily, friends and co-workers sent us home from the temple or stopped by our apartment with papaya, pineapples, avocadoes, taro and palusami. Whether these were gifts inspired by the season, or just the result of generous hearts and abundant harvests, it was very much appreciated and certainly enjoyed.  Samoans love to celebrate. Celebrations always involve lots of food and lots of singing and dancing. There was plenty of that. We attended the annual Christmas party held for all the temple workers and the temple presidency, where they sang spontaneously their Samoan songs with their calls and claps. They danced  their traditional siva, so elegant and lovely, to me the loveliest of all Polynesian dances. They piled their plates high and returned to the bounteous table for seconds and thirds. We temple missionaries with the presidency sang a Samoan version of the twelve days of Christmas (for which we had numerous practices, no doubt for the benefit of the Lamoreaux's and the Crowleys.) It brought the house down.                                 

                                                                                                                               The Siva

On Monday the week before, the senior and temple missionaries were invited to meet in the conference room at the mission home to assemble gifts that Sister Winter (serving with Elder Winter, auditor for the mission) had painstakingly prepared over the past many weeks while she had been laid up with an injured ankle. Her experience in being directed to do this, is one I will tell in detail at a later time.

On Christmas Eve, all the senior missionaries and temple missionaries enjoyed a lovely dinner of turkey, ham and umu roasted pork (the whole pig), with all the trimmings you would expect. Guests of honor were South Pacific Area President James Hamula, his wife and four of their six children (17 year old fraternal twin boys, and two young adult daughters), Mission President Leota, his wife and two daughters (Rachael recently returned from her mission in the USA and a younger sister whose name I do not know), Regional Church Historian Brett Macdonald, his wife and three young children, delightful people all. The two assistants to President Leota and a third young elder did an inspired reading from the Bible and Book of Mormon, interspersed with Elder Amituana’i’s tender guitar accompaniment and their voices singing a Michael Mclean song. It left us all in awe of God’s gift to us of His Beloved Son.

Christmas morning before it was light found many of us senior missionaries in the mission home kitchen, preparing breakfast to feed an army, or so it appeared.  The Hamula’s Christmas this year was devoted to serving the children housed by the Samoa Victim Support Group “House of Hope”. The residents from very young to eighteen years of age are assured of a safe and loving environment there, protected against their abusers by a high fence and a locked gate. We did not understand at first that we were all invited to go with Hamula’s, Leota’s and Brett Macdonald, to serve the breakfast we had prepared to the children and the small staff. The next couple of hours were humbling. These children, mostly girls from preteen to mid teens, some pregnant, greeted us with “Merry Christmas” as they smiled and kissed our cheeks, one after another.

Sorry, my head is in the way. That is Sister Moaga prepared to serve. She resisted my insistence that she come with us to visit the children, but thanked me afterwards.

After breakfast, there was singing by the children. They sang with gusto, as is their heritage. When they sang a song of thanks for our visit, their young leader wiped her eyes repeatedly while maintaining her impressive conducting of the music. At one point someone handed a little boy, maybe 12 to 14 months old to Leon. The little guy snuggled into his arms and stayed until he was retrieved later by an older child.

There she is, her back to us, leading the singing of the children.

The Hamula’s had been there for several days, serving the children and getting acquainted with them. They brought gifts and clothing, donated or gathered as part of the twin’s eagle project. When some time was given to them at the end of the festivities, both boys broke down in tears as they expressed to the children how they loved them, how much they had learned from them, and how this was the very best Christmas of their lives. They told them they would never forget them, and surely they won’t. None of us will.

The Hamula's daughter, Jennie. See the girl in the foreground. She is wearing one of the tie-dye tee's that Jennie and her sister dyed for the boys and girls.

One of the items Sister Winter prepared and we assembled were binders full of colored prints of scripture stories taken from past issues of the Friend magazine. Each story has a page to color. You can also see that the tie-dyed tee's were enthusiastically received.

Tomorrow is our New Year’s Eve. 2014 will bring changes to our mission. We will say good-bye to Sister Moaga, whose temple mission ends on January 6^th. Losing Sister Moaga is no small loss. I can hardly think of it. She is a stalwart at the temple, one you can always turn to for help, advice, or clarification. The Lamoreaux’s and we are taking her to lunch tomorrow.  She has never married and never attended university in order to care for her widowed mother who passed away before she came on her mission. I’ve been hammering her to get into school when she returns to Sydney, Australia. I’ve also cautioned her to stop hitting people because if she is going to marry a temple president one day, she cannot serve as the temple matron if she goes around slapping the sisters. Granted, it is playful, but really? Sometimes it even hurts!  She just laughs and says, “Whatever” in her Aussie accent. Leon says it to her all the time, mimicking her accent – “Whativah”.

We wish each of you a very HAPPY 2014.  May we all focus on the things that matter most, strive to be better than we are, and accept others as they are, children of God, so loved of Him that He sent His Son to atone for all our sins. Oh how we love Him and His Son, our Hope, our Advocate and our Friend. 

Light dawns on a new day and a new year.

The Legacy of Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson came to Samoa on the recommendation of its climate being potentially therapeutic for his tuberculosis.  He came for a visit and stayed until his death four years later in December of 1894. These were his best years as an adult, having suffered from his childhood with the constant illness and weakness of the disease. They were also the most productive of his writing career. He wrote thirteen booksduring his years in Samoa.

We have visited his home, Vailima, twice now since we arrived, and I’m sure we will visit there again before we leave. There is a wonderful spirit there. It is beautiful, peaceful, and full of history. Mt Vaea rises abruptly behind the home, or rather off to the side. It is visible from RLS’s study on the second floor where he did his writing. In the early ‘70’s, our young family in tow, we climbed the steep path to its crest where he is buried.  From the front veranda, looking across the groomed landscape, the sea is visible through the trees which surround the 350 acre estate. When the estate was new and being developed, Stevenson, his family and his host of Samoan help, had a clear view of the sea as the trees were not yet grown to maturity.

Stevenson put his heart into Vailima and into the nation of Samoa and its people. They gave him the name Tusitala, meaning story teller.  He was a true friend of Samoa, an advocate for the independence of her people from foreign rule, and an understanding and appreciative observer of their culture. It seems more than coincidental that the few short years he lived there were pivotal years in Samoan history, when Germany was entrenched politically and economically, and England and America were more than silent observers.  Two rival chiefs (matai) each with legitimate ties to the throne by lineage and both with large and loyal followings, had positioned themselves for war. Germany had sided with and exercised great influence over Maleatoa Laupepa who sat as king, while Mata’afa stood for the traditional Samoan way of selecting their kings and governing their country. RLS supported the rebels and considered Mata’afa a friend.

Following a bloody battle between these two factions, the Germans deported Mata’afa to the Mrshall Islands and took approximately 20 chiefs of Mata’afa’s camp prisoner.  Within a week they built a prison to contain them. Confined to 6 dark cells, these chiefs who knew nothing but freedom, were terribly despondent.  When Stevenson saw their conditions and realized what little food they were subsisting on, he pressed the European powers to allow them to build 8 fales to house themselves , and to allow their families to feed them and visit them. The prison commander, himself appalled at their conditions, went further and allowed some family members to live with their men in prison. Stevenson continued to petition the foreign government to release the chiefs, who he maintained were no threat to the government. Eventually his untiring efforts in their behalf were rewarded by their release.

By way of thanks, the chiefs built a road to Vailima, which Stevenson named, The Road of Loving Hearts. These high-ranking chiefs normally would not themselves be about road building. This was a gift born of gratitude that would endure as a symbol of their love for their Tusitala. They would take no pay, neither expect nor accept any food or supplies while work was underway.

On the Sunday following Thanksgiving in that same year of 1894, surrounded by family and his beloved and devoted Samoan staff, Stevenson offered this prayer at evening vespers:

“We thank Thee and we praise Thee. We beseech Thee, Lord, to behold us with favor. Be patient; suffer us yet a while longer-with our broken purposes of good, and our idle endeavors against evil. Suffer us a while longer to endure, and help us to do better. Bless to us our extraordinary mercies, be with our friends, be with ourselves. Go with each of us to rest. If any awake, temper to them the dark hours of watching. And when the day returns, return to us, our sun and comforter. And call us up with morning faces and with morning hearts, eager to labor, eager to be happy, if happiness be our portion. And if the day be marked for sorrow, may we be strong to endure it. Amen.” 

December 3^rd, 1894 was to be his last day at Vailima. Surrounded by family, he passed peacefully into the next world. The diagnosis of the doctor was a blood clot to the brain. Sorrow settled on Vailima. High-ranking and ordinary Samoans came from villages far and near to pay homage to their friend, Tusitala. His oft expressed wish to be buried at the top of Mt Vaea  was honored.  Throughout the night the sound of machete and ax could be heard as those same chief’s who built The Road of Loving Hearts, chopped and slashed a path 500 vertical feet to the crest of the mountain. The next day his coffin was carried on the shoulders of his loving Samoan staff, up the steep mountain side, where he was buried by these adoring friends and servants.  As requested, he died with his boots on. The following verse was written by Stevenson years before, but seem prophetic.

Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky,

Dig the grave and let me lie.

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

Here may the winds about me blow;

Here may the clouds come and go;

Here shall be rest for evermo

And the heart for aye shall be still.

This be the verse you grave for me

Here he lies where he longed to be;

Home is the sailor, home from the sea

And the hunter home from the hill.

~ Robert Lous Stevenson

Vailima (Five Rivers)

The bed (with original mosquito net) where he rested and did some of his writing.

The Great Hall where mourners came to view his body.

This room was the scene of many happy celebrations and gatherings while he was yet alive.

Afterword

I received two responses to Going Bananas that I thought were worthy of addressing. First, my friend Liz McGuire shared this 'FWIW' information on the possible context of the Jacob and Esau story. I found it interesting and thought you might also.  I am indebted to Liz and Geri for their thoughtful responses.

In the [apocryphal] Book of Jasher, Nimrod has the garments which the Lord made for Adam ("with which Nimrod prevailed over the whole land"). Ham had stolen them from Noah (possibly the real reason Ham was cursed), and they were handed down to Nimrod. ....For unknown reasons, Nimrod is jealous of Esau (one is left to fill in the backstory and how the two might behave because of this). One day Esau is out hunting, sees Nimrod, and hides himself until Nimrod and two of his men are near. Then Esau jumps out and slays Nimrod. Esau fights desperately with the two men and kills them as well. But "all the mighty men of Nimrod" heard the cries during the fight and came to see. Esau steals the garments, runs, and hides them in his own house.

Then Esau took the garments and ran into the city, "on account of Nimrod's men" (presumably they're still hot on his trail). He goes to his father's house and meets Jacob there. He tells Jacob he's going to die that day, so what good is his birthright? "And Jacob acted wisely with Esau in this matter, and Esau sold his birthright to Jacob, for it was so brought about by the Lord."

Esau is never brought to account for the death of Nimrod, so we might infer that Jacob hid Esau and saved him from being found and killed by Nimrod's men...

So, perhaps Jacob should have helped Esau without condition, or perhaps this was as the Lord wished all along. Certainly, Esau shouldn't have gone around murdering and thieving... Either way, there's an awful lot of conflict between Esau and Jacob, not just in this story.

Geri Hooker was intrigued by the account of Cathy and Seig Arp sharing food with four families in one night. She wondered if this was unusual and if it is a cultural thing. The answer is, yes, and yes.  As Cathy once explained to me, all that is necessary for anyone asking for help of any kind is to extablish a family connection.  Here on this small island, that is not difficult. You don't have to go back far to come to a family relationship.  The family is critical in every part of Samoan culture. It controls land holdings, leadership and status (matai titles), and exerts great influence on politics, education, village life and on and on. There is an expectation that when help is needed, the obligation is to provide if at all possible. Sadly, in some cases, debt will be incurred to meet the request of someone in need. In the case of Seig and Cathy, as it is with many, they grow a variety of staple crops on their land, and could have and probably did provide without great out of pocket cost.

So now you know. Or think you know. Or wonder even more. That's about where I am. 

GOING BANANAS !

We have been inundated with bananas. Have the banana trees only just recovered from the December cyclone? Why all the bananas? I don't have the answer. People are giving us bananas of different varieties everywhere we turn. We go to the temple and in the break room the table is full of bananas –not only bananas, but banana soup! There is one variety that is about the length of the bananas you are used to (here they are called palagi bananas), but at least twice as fat. They are very tasty—especially with ice cream and chocolate sauce. The little misilukis are anywhere from tiny to small, and very good, very good. I think bananas are fattening, attract mosquitoes, and may cause constipation (that’s just a guess because when a baby has diarrhea, bananas are part of the recommended diet). But bananas are what we have in abundance, and we eat them. On cereal, under a scoop of ice cream, alone, baked in coconut milk, or boiled in soup (for my part the latter is only eaten because of peer pressure), we eat them. 

Misiluki Banana

Today is Sunday. Leon taught the lesson in his priesthood quorum. The subject was Loving God More Than We Love the World. He used the picture of the monkey, his hand grasping a banana inside a jug, caught between his hunger and his need to be free.   He shared the story of Jacob and Esau from the Old Testament. You remember the account of Esau coming in from hunting, tired and hungry, and trading his birthright away to Jacob for a ‘mess of pottage’, which we commonly think of as hot cereal. Anyway, the response from the class to that story was totally unexpected, but on further reflection, totally fa’asamoan.  A brother spoke out indignantly: “That would never happen in Samoa.” Another chimed in, “He should have fed his brother.” They were totally in Esau’s corner.  And they were absolutely correct:  it would never happen in Samoa. Brother Macdonald said right out loud, “I hate that story!”

I also taught the lesson in Relief Society, however we are one lesson ahead of the priesthood, so my subject was Doing Good to Others. In response to my question as to whether anyone had ever pulled themselves out of a gloomy mood by serving someone else whose need was greater, one sister told the following experience. Cathy Arp is actually one of the two sisters I visit teach. She is a diabetic whose health is declining. On a particularly hard day, night actually, she was very tired when the phone rang. On the other end of the line was someone whose cupboards were bare.  Was her husband home? No, he was not. There was an apologetic request for the need of food and the lateness of the hour. Cathy responded by answering the need. No sooner was she home again a second request, a critical need for food, came from another family, again asking for Seig (Cathy’s husband). Before the night was over, she had delivered food to four families. In each case they were very apologetic, saying they had asked so many times before, and hesitated to ask again. But as each had prayed for guidance, Seig came to mind. So even at the late hour, need overcame humiliation and they called the man who had never turned them away. Cathy said that while her strength and patience were worn thin by the end of the fourth visit, she realized what a blessing it was to be married to such a man to whom the Lord would direct his children in time of need. I didn’t ask Cathy, but beside whatever else she provided, I’ll bet she took them some bananas.

In another sense, we are going bananas over a care package we received from home this past week.  Leon and I looked at each other and wondered and hoped that we had sent care packages to our missionaries when they were out. That was so long ago! We’ve since been assured that we did. I had no idea how fun it could be to receive any mail from home, but especially to have received a box full of ingredients for holiday cooking! Rather than packed in packing peanuts, it was packed in mini candy bars, which we sorted out like a couple of kids, setting aside our personal favorites and sharing others.  A few weeks ago we received another care package from the Fifes, who had personal knowledge of how valuable some of the contents of their box would be: namely the tp which they labeled, “For special occasions”.

As we approach Thanksgiving Day, we have to list near the top the modern technology that allows us to call home anytime with such clear sound that it’s hard to believe how many miles separate us. We check our email inbox daily and are grateful for the timely communication between friends and family, and especially hearing from our two grandchildren currently serving missions.  Skype is a modern miracle we plan to employ on Thanksgiving Day when nearly all of our family will be gathered together.  As for us, we will celebrate Thanksgiving with all of the senior missionaries on Saturday, November 30^th, because that is the day everyone, including us temple missionaries, is free in the evening. That will be your Black Friday as we are a day ahead.  

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Give Thanks and have some Banana Cream Pie!

OBSERVATIONS

SINGING:

·         Samoan children LOVE to sing. Our friend Lupe Ieramia told us that when she was a little girl sitting by her mother in church, if she wasn’t singing, her mother would pinch her. So maybe some learn to love to sing.

·        The deacons stay on the front rows after the sacrament is passed. The teachers remain at the sacrament table. They all remain there for the entire meeting.  These Aaronic Priesthood boys sing the hymns. The primary age boys find joy in singing out. They ALL sing. There is almost no horseplay during singing time. Today was the primary sacrament meeting program. Many of us wept for the beauty and truth they spoke and sang. 

·         There is an LDS father-daughter duo that performs during the lunch hour at a wonderful little café called Mari's that faces the harbor. We often have lunch there on Fridays after the temple. We are such regulars that the father acknowledges us by name when we come in. Their harmony and his guitar accompaniment is pure heaven.

·         I am often serving as greeter at the temple at the first of our shift, and as greeter, I remain there during preparation meeting. That early in the shift, the foyer is quiet and their singing can be heard. They sing accapella, men and women. The rich bass and the female harmonies carry the familiar hymns throughout the temple through the closed doors. Sometimes if there are a few patrons in the foyer, I can hear them picking up the harmony and quietly singing along.

·         Sister Latu serves as the assistant coordinator on Friday mornings with me. She is the one the Lord inspired me to ask for. On the first day we served together, while we were getting ready in the locker room, she started singing quietly, “I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord, I’ll be what you want  me to be.” We were the first ones there and all alone.

COURTESY:

·         Courtesy is paramount in Samoan culture. When a young (say, 9 or 10 year old) boy answers the door, he invites you in and invites you to be seated. He excuses himself to get his parent.  We’ve even had one 8 year old bring us a drink of water. They are taught courtesy at a young age.

·         If the food is being served to you, the men are served first. (Chiefs) All men are given that respect.

·         Because we are guests in their country, the sisters at the temple don’t like to let me wash my own cup or clean up after anyone else in the kitchen, or serve them. I have a hard time with that and sometimes just do it anyway and make a joke of it. They are learning to accept me and laugh at my antics.

·         One never walks in front of another person w/o saying ‘tulo’, meaning ‘excuse me’. You bend slightly so as to indicate respect while walking in front of others.

j     The common greeting is a hand clasp and a kiss on the cheek, or just pressing your cheek against theirs while clasping hands.

      

      Samoans always smile at you, whether stranger or friend.

FOOD:

·         It’s very important to provide plenty of food.  You are expected to eat some of everything offered.

·         I’ve got a bit of a tummy like I’ve never had before and the sisters seem to think that is a very good thing.

·         I have scored lots of points by really enjoying cocosamoa. It has raised my status in their eyes considerably.

·         I’m not kidding. I really love cocosamoa. I’ve learned how to make it and I always have it on hand. Last week two sisters, independent of each other brought me cocosamoa from their own plantations. Both said it’s the best. I’m not a connoisseur yet. I buy it off of every little kid I see. But according to these sisters, I’m about to experience what real, freshly roasted cocosamoa tastes like.

·         I have also learned to make supoese (papaya soup – it’s really a drink, not a soup). And I make pretty good sapasui (chop suey faasamoa style).

·         This is kind of, well, personal. I wonder if there is a special blessing on missionary food. Because the simple meals we fix at home taste so good. Honestly, I think to myself as I’m eating, ‘Did food ever taste this good?”

·         There is a little grocery/bakery near us that has the reputation of making the best bread in town. The sign on the front says Maryons, but everyone calls the store Siosi’s. Don’t ask. We don’t know why. When we learned that they sell their bread dough, we became regular customers. From it we make bread, rolls, and scones. Mighty good.  They also sell these giant rolls that are baked in a pan of coconut cream. Yeah, they’re good.

     

The How-To Portion of this blog.

Cocosamoa:

This is how it is sold: wrapped in plastic wrap and sold in a styrofoam cup

My hero grates it into a bowl.

I measure it and put it in this sauce pan with this sugar that is less processed than white sugar.

Add boiling water and bring back to a boil on medium heat.

Simmer for awhile, maybe an hour.

It's very good. Especially if you like dark chocolate. It's even good chilled. Tastes like a fudge bar.

This is how you make Supoese.

Cut ripe papaya in half lengthwise. The small bowl you see on the far right is tapioca, covered with water.

Scrape out the seeds and discard.

Scrape the fruit into a bowl or pan.

Cover with hot water and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer, stirring often.

Add the soaked (therefore softened) tapioca, and stir until tapioca becomes clear.

Add coconut cream and stir. It pours from a can, but when refridgerated, it thickens, as pictured.

Continue to stir until well blended. It can be enjoyed warm or chilled.

Depending on the amount of tapioca added, it can be a drink or a pudding.

The sapasui how-to will have to wait until another blog.

So now you know why I have more of a tummy than ever before. Probably the most important observation.

Tofa Soifua ma manuia le aso.

Sunday, October 6, 2013 Draft

Sunday, October 6, 2013.  This may not ever make it into print, but I want to try to find words for what I have experienced during the past few weeks, and especially what happened last Friday.

We’ve been here for seven months now.  We are just beginning to understand the culture. It is a key to understanding everything else.  It allows us to make sense of so many things. We are beginning to find humor rather that frustration in the clashes between the cultures – ours and those we are here to serve.  As recently as yesterday, I found my blood pressure on the rise because once again I lost sight of the fact that it is my responsibility to let go of my cultural paradigm and remember that I am the guest here. It didn’t happen all at once, but as I fulfilled an assignment which immersed me in a sacred ordinance and the Spirit was so present, my anger melted away. That must be the meaning of how our troubles are “swallowed up in the joy of Christ”. With my soul quieted, I was taught once again that this is not my world. I am a guest here.

This is your conference week-end. Ever since we arrived Leon has requested again and again that the tv antenna on our roof be fixed or replaced. It pointed to our roof. You can imagine the poor reception. BYUTV airs on a local station here. That’s a great thing for us because we don’t have cable and only get 3 channels.  In desperation, Leon called one of the engineers again and said, “Just bring me a ladder. I’m going to fix the antenna myself. I want to watch conference and I’m going to fix the antenna.” With visions of a senior citizen falling from the roof and the imagined repercussions, immediate action was taken and we have great reception. We caught a little of the Saturday morning session this morning before church, a little of the afternoon session when we got home.  I especially appreciated Elder Dube’s talk on meekness. Mostly because that is what I lack. It was a great help to me in recognizing what I need to do.

My lack of meekness was actually what caused the rise in my blood pressure yesterday. The Sunday session will be broadcast live tomorrow (Monday) from 6-8 am and 10-noon. That is the day we do our household chores at the temple, while it is closed. Monday is also the day the temple missionaries had a calendared activity to watch conference.  However, on Friday we were told that instead we were going to go to Piula to swim; that we would keep to the regular 6 a.m. cleaning schedule and then go on our activity as soon as we were finished.  I spoke to the matron Saturday morning, asking if it would be possible to change the time of our Monday assignment so that we could watch both sessions of conference live at 6 a.m. and 10 a.m., and then come directly to the temple to do our work at noon. She reminded me that the sessions of conference will be rebroadcast the following week-end in the stake center and also they will be broadcast "all the time" online and on tv during the week.  Do you see the problem? I was standing there with one foot in West Jordan Utah, and one foot in Samoa.  It was terribly uncomfortable.  Fortunately, sometime in the next few hours, I was able to pull my foot out of Utah, and plant both feet firmly right here again, where everyone realizes that for Samoa, general conference is one week later than in the states.

Monday it rained so hard we hoped maybe there would be a change of plans. Not so. As it turned out, we enjoyed ourselves on the activity, though to start with, inside we went screaming and kicking. Following President Hinckley’s *advice, we put a smile on our faces and joined the group. There were 2 vans of us. Fitisemanu's drove one van. We rode with Paugas and I had a great visit with Sister Pauga and got help with the language as well. It was a fun day.

One week later.

Saturday, October 12, 2013.  General Conference was well worth waiting for. We were able to attend the English sessions in the chapel directly across the street from the temple.  Most of the Samoan temple missionaries also attended there as the building is the ONLY air conditioned chapel on the island. It is the one that hosts the visiting general authority meetings. In the morning session, the projected images seemed over-exposed. People looked a little washed out. It was especially noticeable when the choir was on the screen. I wondered for a minute if we just hadn’t seen so many white people together for a long time. Actually, I think that was part of it.  But it was a color adjustment problem that was corrected in the afternoon session.  I strongly suggest that if you don’t want your daughters to marry Polynesians, you don’t send them to BYU-Hawaii. The bronze skin color is beautiful. We look at ourselves and think, (as Elder Gertsch expressed), “Am I getting pinker?”

There was definitely a missionary theme going on today. But I also felt that we needed to ponder the talks in reference to how they are to prepare and protect us against the events of the future. Perhaps answering the call to become involved with the full-time missionaries and doing our part to bring people to Christ is the very thing that will protect us and enable us to endure the challenges ahead.  Is there anything that could increase our faith and deepen our conversion more than missionary work?

It is getting late. I was hoping to say so much more, but evidently I’m still recuperating from my Friday temple assignment, and need to go to bed.  I so appreciate your prayers in my behalf. It takes all I have and then some (the Lord’s grace and tender mercies) to fill this coordinating assignment. I know I am being sustained through prayer.

Love to you all and thanks for your prayers,

Mom/Grandma/Friend

* “Don’t be gloomy. Do not dwell on unkind things.  Stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunshine.  Even if you’re not happy put a smile on your face. ‘Accentuate the positive.’ Look a little deeper for the good. Go forward in life with a twinkle in your eye and a smile on your face, with great and strong purpose in your heart.”                       ~ President Gordon B. Hinckley

 These are some pictures I took that day at Piula Cave Pool.

I'm standing on the sea wall, looking toward the cave at the end of the pool.

L-R: Elder Crowley (doesn't he look pink?) He's reminding me where to find the zoom on our camera. 

Sister Tafua in white Tee (new from Huntington Beach, CA), Sister Nele Moaga, behind her is Sister Collins, Sister Fitisemanu in center, Sister Tavete behind her, the Sauni's are behind Tavete, and in front is young Sister Afualo. Sissters Collins and Afualo have been serving in the temple and have now left for their missions to ID Pocatello and Australia Sydney respectively.

Elder Bob and Sister Peggy Lamoreaux, from Orem, UT, parents of 14 children. This is their 3rd mission, the first was to Romania, second to Mongolia. Samoa is their reward.

Lamoreaux's with their backs to the sea. Remember the cave pool is a fresh water pool, separated from the ocean by the sea wall.

President and Sister Pauga. She's the one tutoring me on my Friday assignment.

President Fitisemanu

These two girls prepared the food while we were in the temple. As you might expect, there was more food than we could possibly eat.

The Samoans learn to sit in this position from the time they are babies. They can sit this way for hours. Not us.

Manuia aso confesi.

(Blessed conference day)