52 weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes The 16th of April marks one year since we arrived in Samoa and what an intense one year it has been. There has been one hospital emergency visit, one dog bite, several doctor visits, lots of tears, screaming and bargaining, and one serious conversation about divorce leading to the children and I moving back to Australia. I am pretty sure that I have a hundred more grey hairs, a possible ulcer and my granuloma annulare flare up is a clear indication of my stress levels. When we decided to move to Samoa, we knew it would be difficult and even though we were armed with a decade worth of experience living in different countries nothing could prepare us for living in a developing country with children, pre-pubescent children. However, among the shit storm of arguments and tantrums (and that’s just me by the way) I have seen a resilience and strength in our family that I didn’t think possible. Yeah there are times, and plenty of them where I just want to hop in my banged-up car (some of those bangs might have been caused by me) and drive to the other side of the island and drink copious amounts of alcohol because my family shits me to tears. It’s hard to believe that we have been here one year already, and I am constantly surprised about how quickly we have become normalised to our surroundings and cultural practices. So much so, that we have all started to pick up various Samoan accents and body language… well everyone except my husband who is hardly in Samoa. It’s funny really, because when people ask him “how are you finding it here in Samoa?” he will often say “don’t ask me ask my wife, I’m hardly here. She’s the one who really lives in Samoa”. I guess he’s right. He works in a beautifully air-conditioned office, with international colleagues who predominantly speak English and then travels to different Islands in the Pacific where he gets a glimpse of their life, but only really what they want him to see. Whereas I work in classrooms with absolutely no air-conditioning, with Samoan teachers and teacher aids who predominantly speak Samoan and navigate the daily routines of shopping, paying bills and mechanics. It’s not a competition (although my humidity tolerance it so much higher than my husbands) it is just a different version of Samoan life. It does feel like we live two different lives sometimes. So here are a few experiences I have had since moving to Samoa: When you catch a taxi, out shopping or just getting petrol, I have been asked these questions many times:
I have had a baby gecko fall from the ceiling in between my boobs – I screamed like a child. I was pulled over by the police when I didn’t have a Samoan driver’s licence. When they asked me where my licence was, I told them the truth (in part) and they said to me “ok, you need to get a licence as soon as possible. Don’t drive without a licence again ok?” then let me go. I’ve heard my neighbour beat his partner and didn’t call the police. (This makes me feel sick to this day. When I spoke to some friends here about this, they told me “don’t bother the police probably already know about it and you don’t want them taking revenge on you”) We expedited the inspection of our container by purchasing a few beers for the workers. I have spoken with the Deputy Prime Minister of Samoa. We have had dinner with the High Commissioner of New Zealand. We have ‘pretended’ to be tourists just to use a fancy hotel pool. I have been interviewed by the Samoa Observer for the climate change protest. We throw rocks at dogs (because they are trying to attack us) This is not a full list of shit we have experienced in the one year we have been here, and it doesn’t even cover the experiences I have had since I started teaching or the weird arse shit my husband has experienced on his missions off Island. But it kind of sums up 365 days in Samoa. God knows what the next 365 days is going to look like
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