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Here is what I consider the most beautiful Samoan fale I
have ever seen. Set on a raised stone platform several feet
high, it caught the breezes that nearly always blew inland
from the ocean. The thatched roof was ideal for keeping the
interior cool.
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| At the easternmost tip of Upolu as
one flies toward American Samoa, one sees shallow lagoons stretching
out between land and reef. Within these lagoons, Samoans do most of
their fishing. At night, they venture out toward the reefs with
lanterns, diving down to search for crabs and lobsters, which are most
plentiful during hours of darkness. |
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| Here you see two of the three main
protein staples of the Samoan village diet—chickens and pigs. Most households
have a few chickens running around outside. At night, the roosters
crow at least four times during the hours of darkness. Sometimes
you'll hear one rooster crow, and then, further away, dozens of other
roosters crow like a wave of sound passing over the landscape and
moving out into the distance.
Most families keep a few pigs
somewhere in a little pigsty away from the family's main dwelling.
Sometimes piglets are given to children as pets. For instance, an
eight-year-old may be given a pet pig intended for dinner when the
child graduates from high school. The pig will follow people around,
collapse in a happy heap, puppy-like, when scratched, and generally
maintain a presence outside the family's dwelling for years. When the
celebration finally arrives, the pig will be killed, cooked in an umu
(rock oven), and served for dinner. |
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Apia, the capital, was the main
centre of western economic impact. It was here in Apia that
the mixed Samoan-European families started their major trading
businesses and now have small department stores as part of
their legacy. It is to Apia that many rural Samoans now flee
to escape traditional Samoan village life and to find greater
autonomy and freedom. It is in Apia, too, that many Samoan villagers
flock to sell their produce in the market, perhaps the easiest
way to enter the money economy. And it is here in Apia that
the major offices of the government of independent Western
Samoa are now located.
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Traditional Samoa Village Life & Customs
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Late in 1968 Richard A. Goodman went to Western Samoa to
spend a year there photographing the Samoan people and Samoa's
culture and doing anthropological research. His main residence was
with a Samoan family he had met several years before. When I say
"family," I use the term to mean something more than a nuclear
family and something considerably less than an aiga or
extended family. In fact, there were usually about 25 people in this
living unit. They stayed primarily in one house in Leone, a rural,
village-like setting on the outskirts of Apia, Western Samoa's
capital. During that year, Richard A. Goodman ventured out
and stayed in a number of other areas as well, including the island
of Manono and Fa'a'la Village in Paulauli (Savai'i) and both
Fasito'otai and Falealili on Upolu.
These photographs and explanations represent Samoan culture and
Samoa village life as it
was from 1968 through 1984.
We gratefully acknowledge Richard A. Goodman's
work and
his kind approval to use his photos and commentary.
Samoan villages are usually located within sight of the sea, which
makes harvesting the potential marine food supply much easier than
it would be if villagers had to walk miles to reach water. In
addition, breezes blowing off the ocean keep their homes
considerably cooler than they would be inland.
The major Samoan islands are volcanic. From the air, Upolu can be
seen to have the long, gentle volcanic slopes of fluid lava flows.
Savai'i is somewhat more rugged. Several extensive areas of this
larger island are covered with relatively new lava and even show
some signs of live volcanic activity, though none have recently
suggested that volcanic eruption is imminent.
About 27 people lived in this living unit. Most slept in this
fale, stretched out on mats on the floor, covered with sheets as
protection against mosquitoes. The precise roster of individuals
living here shifted over time. An aunt or an uncle from a distant
village might come and stay for three months, while another might
move permanently to Savai'i. An adopted daughter would go off to a
different village on the same island and spend six months with the
family of her biological father, then return later. I always think
of this fale with fond memories.
Early one morning, when the sun hadn't even burned the mist off
the landscape, I went walking near Apia Harbour and saw the group of
men above net fishing from Samoan outrigger canoes.
The harbour wasn't as rich a fishing ground as some of the reefs,
and, when I later saw the same men after they'd finished, they
hadn't caught much. Even in 1968, people were commenting that it was
becoming more and more difficult to get a good catch. Back in the
old days, they said, you could go out in your outrigger canoe and
come home with plenty of fish. The population is increasing, and I
imagine the fishing has become even worse since then.
In 1968, most Western Samoans were still primarily on a
subsistence economy. They planted and grew their own
foodstuffs—taro, bananas, breadfruit, and other staples. They
searched the forests for other food and for raw materials they used
in may different ways, including for construction of their
traditional houses.
For protein, they relied primarily on the sea. The men went net
fishing or by swimming out among the reefs to spear small, bony
reef-dwelling fish. Sometimes at night they also gathered crabs and
lobsters. Unlike the people of Manihiki, Rakahanga, and other
islands in the Northern Cooks, individual Western Samoans did very
little deepwater fishing for tuna. The Samoan diet also included
family-raised chicken and pork and occasional beef. The pork and
beef were normally cooked, presented, and redistributed primarily at
funerals and other ceremonial affairs.
More from Richard A. Goodman on
Samoa Fales, Men's
Work,
Women's
Work in Samoa;
Samoan
Tattoo and Samoan Traditions and Church life.
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This Samoa village scene conjures up the
classical stereotype of a tropical paradise. Notice, however, that
the houses don't really have walls—just blinds woven of coconut
leaves. A series of eight or 10 panels are fastened together on a
string of sennit, and at night or in rainy weather these are let
down to keep out cold air or rain. Sometimes they're let down, too,
to block the sunlight. The direct rays of the sun are uncomfortably
hot in this latitude, only about five degrees from the equator.
If you think this is paradise, ponder
the idea that almost all the time in a Samoan village everyone sees
what everyone else is doing. Neighbours keep a perpetual eye on each
other. The lack of privacy makes others witness to arguments,
fights, disagreements, and any number of other matters Europeans
keep hidden from public view in their many-roomed domiciles. Bear in
mind, also, that in a traditional Samoan fale, 20 or more people may
be sleeping on the floor next to each other.
Human beings are incredibly
malleable, a fact that Margaret Mead long ago pointed out. If you're
used to living in close quarters with many other people, and have
almost never been alone, then being alone makes you uncomfortable.
If, on the other hand, you are used to being alone, as most
Americans or Europeans are, then the constant presence of others can
be very unpleasant.
One result of living in a culture
affording little or no privacy is that control over behaviour is
exercised to an enormous degree by public exposure and public
shaming rather than by internalized norms. This is not to say that
Samoans don't have a conscience and don't know right from wrong—but,
in Samoan village life, the knowledge that your neighbours are nearly always
watching (and talking) keeps people in line.
Here are the same men I'd seen
earlier, now gathered by their Samoan outrigger canoes at the end of their
fishing expedition.
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