It has been a while between posts, there have been a multitude of reasons why this is the case. Work, mundane life chores, work, and lazing on the beach or by the resort pool, pandemics, anxiety attacks. Life really does move at a slower pace on the Islands, but that is not what this post is about. From the title it is pretty obvious what I am going to write about.
Respect.
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I can’t believe we have hit March already. Is it just me or is this year going exceptionally fast? One part of me is totally stoked that the year is flying by because it means I will be home soon for home leave and I will get to see my wonderful friends and family. On the other-hand it means time here in Samoa is running out, like the sands through the hour glass LOL (only people of a certain age will get that pop culture reference, it also shows my age) and I am not sure I am making the most of it here.
Sometimes having a critical mind is painful – correction for me it is always painful. It’s painful because it causes you reflect on yourself, your behaviour and your role in maintaining injustice. For me (I can’t speak on behalf of my husband) it causes me to feel guilty. I feel guilt for not spending enough ‘quality’ time with my children, I feel guilty for getting frustrated and angry at my children, I feel guilty for not cleaning as much as I should, then I feel guilty for not spending enough time on my work. I also feel frustrated because I don’t think I am doing enough to change the shit things that are happening around me.
Sometimes I think it would be easier on me, my children, and my family if we just bobbed along in this sea, oblivious to the world around us. I know for a fact I would be less frustrated and angry if I ignored it all. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can do that, and I know that both my daughters have developed a sharp and critical view on the world. It was bound to happen they’ve grown up immersed in discussions about race relations in Australia, global politics, immigration policies, taxes, gender stereotypes – all of this just at the dinner table with my family and friends! There was really no hope with their Fairy Book Mother and Uncle Viking, the offspring were bound to be cynical observers of the world. So, what happened on Saturday has again brought into focus my fears for my daughters, especially my eldest. Ok, let me give you a very short back story – we have never gender stereotyped our daughters, in fact we have gone out of our way to challenge the gender binaries of our society. We have always explained to our children that there are no such things as ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ toys, colours, clothes or activities and that yes, we may have specific sexual organs, the concept of male and female, boy and girl are socially constructed in a way that oppresses one gender. We have always said that we are human and how we chose to represent ourselves physically is a personal choice and doesn’t determine or define us. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks like this and now retrospectively I fear this may cause my daughters, especially me eldest harm. My eldest daughter likes to wear clothes that most people would consider ‘masculine’ and has a shaved pixie cut hairstyle, ergo ‘she looks just like a boy!’ None of the family or our friends have a problem with the way she decides to represent herself, but I can’t say the same about the rest of society. On Saturday we went to a birthday party, it was a lovely party and it seemed as though everyone was playing well with each other until ... my eldest came up to me looking upset here’s the transcript: Me: what’s up? ED: A and T are calling me names, they’re calling me a Fa’afafine (Fa’afafine are Samoan biological males who behave in a range of feminine ways, they are considered to be a third gender in Samoan society). Me: Ok, leave it with me. Thank you for telling me, how about you go and find something else to do. I was shocked, not because a boy was harassing her – unfortunately this is not the first time a boy has verbally and physically harassed her because she doesn’t prescribe to gender stereotypes, we have had at least 4 in Samoa that I know of and trust me I did not hold back! I was shocked because A who is friends with my daughter went along with the name calling. Granted child A is 4 years younger than my daughter and I understand that it is an unfortunate human trait to go along with the masses, but for me it demonstrated quite clearly how children as young as 5 are reproducing harmful stereotypes and the power adults have in re-enforcing these norms that are damaging to all. Thankfully A’s mother is a superstar, a powerful, intelligent and strong Samoan woman who was not offended by my discussion with her in regard to this but appreciated the fact that I brought this to her attention. A testament to both parents, they dealt with it quickly, quietly and swiftly and as it turns out A didn’t even know what the boy was talking about and felt terrible for hurting someone’s feelings like that. The boy on the other hand, we decided a birthday party was probably not the best time to discuss their fucked-up world views on gender, feminism and social justice – we will save that for vigorous discussions over gin. How do I arm my eldest offspring with the tools to deal with this? How do I resist telling all these little fuckwits to take a long walk off a short pier? I'm sitting here at the dining room table, children deeply immersed in the Peter Rabbit movie and as the sun peaks through the clouds and the rain has finally stopped, I am cautiously optimistic that my washing may actually dry today. Although, as it has been sitting out there for a few days it's probably going to smell like moldy old socks. Oh living in the tropics it's not all white sunny beach days and cocktails under coconut palms (which I would not suggest because if one of those bad boys lands on your head god help you). There's the mould, which I have been finding on the leather couch and our leather shoes (the tropics is no friend to leather) and I know that I have mentioned this before but the gecko shit is really starting to piss me off now but whats more the geckos laughing at me as I clean it is making me paranoid. Today I am finding it hard to put into words what I am feeling, usually pontificating about life and loves come easily to me, but today seems unreasonably difficult for me. Might have something to do with the noise level in my house at the moment. Honestly the British accents in Peter Rabbit are bloody awful, I mean really it's not that hard come on! Oh and also I did some research, rabbits don't touch heads to apologise. But I am going off on a tangent. The last couple of days I have been thinking a lot about what 2019 is going to bring, the new challenges we are going to be facing and my changing relationship with my children, especially my eldest daughter. I'm definitely not one for New Year's resolutions because I do not have the fucking energy level OR will power to keep to any shit like that. It's true I'm lazy. I was given a gratitude journal 2 years ago by my mum and I am too lazy to even write what I am grateful for! Plus I don't think it is normal to write that you are grateful for alcohol (ha! just joking....). There is one thing that I really want to try to get better at and that is I want to stop being so hard on myself- for the mistakes that I have made, for the bad parenting decisions I have made, and for not knowing or understanding things right now. Because I am not perfect and I never will be and that's perfectly fine. This year is going to be very different for all of us. I have my work visa now so I will be working full time teaching and because of this the offspring will be starting at another new school. This change has brought many tears and tantrums because even though we may not have approved of the teaching practices at their old school and the amount of religious content, they made some very close and beautiful friends. I am also very anxious about my new role and all that will come with it. I know I am going to make mistakes, that some days the activities and lessons will just flop and some days are going to be shit, but the NEW ME is working really hard to counter these angst driven thoughts with positivism - it's really fucking exhausting, how do positive people do it? No really, if you can give me some advice please I am all ears because I am shattered and it's only day 9. It also doesn't help that I have what might be possibly diagnosed as OCD so shit like this really tests my ability to not want to jump in, tidy up and make it perfect. Oh and I forgot, I will also be turning 40 in 2019 (WTF) that can't be right? I see you 40 and I am going to smash you out of the park baby! Also, why do some expats act as though they have been here for years? - conversing with such confidence and authority that one would think they have lived in Samoa for a good 10 years when in reality they have been here 9 months! I still feel like I am fresh off the boat, trying to find my way around the markets, the best places to eat out, chemists, Dr's, learning the language, and understanding the nuances of the Samoan culture. Ok, usually ‘normal’ people celebrate 6-month or 1 year anniversaries but from what you have read it is safe to say that normal isn’t what we do. So HAPPY 8 MONTH ANNIVERSARY US. We have survived ... so far and when I talk about survival it’s not in reference to the different lifestyle here, the food, the weather (although we are in cyclone season so this may change) or Samoan people, it is us. We have survived us. The family has not imploded – there were times and I still get glimpses of it every now and then when I think ‘shit, fuck we are a bunch of fucking lunatics and we really shouldn’t all be in the same place together ... alone .... with no escape hatch’. Watch this space because it may change as life often does. What does it mean that we have been here just over half a year? A lot has changed, and I have gone from being a whinging expat wife of, complaining that I am not ‘utilising my skills’ to a whinging expat wife of complaining that I have too much on my plate. Be careful of what you wish for, it may come back to bite you in the arse. For a while there I was spreading myself too thin, volunteering in three different places and running around like an idiot that didn’t know which way was up and which way was down and then I got an actual job and reality sunk in. I will have to go to said job 5 days a week, do a shit load of planning and mentoring and deal with the politics of other people! What was I thinking? Why couldn’t I just be like the other expat mums here and swan about in my flowy dresses or active wear and do what ever the hell I want to do because I am on an extended holiday?! Thankfully things, like work visas take a long time here (even though the process is relatively simple seeing as I already have a temporary visa) so I am still volunteering and have some degree of flexibility and I feel it is a good way to ease myself into the workplace. I could be wrong because let’s face it I often am. I have been mulling over a lot of contentious issues since arriving in Samoa. I haven’t been able to coherently express them because I have been challenged on a deeply personal level by them that emotionally it has been hard to deal with:
I suppose we're all implicated in colonialism in the massively and increasingly corporatised milieu of education - over here, it's so naturally spoken of as an industry or a business, it seems crazy to talk about (and so construct it) in any other way. But I guess therein lies a tiny space for speaking back. So another one of my jobs now is to find spaces, no matter how small to ‘speak back’. This is a work in progress and will take many hits I am sure of that. I just hope that I am up to the task. My parenting on the hand, that is still very much in question as to whether I am up to the task. But then, who really is? How is the child thing going I hear you ask? Well it is the first week of school holidays and I want to buy a plane ticket, for myself back home! Ok I am being overly dramatic, it really isn’t that bad, they don’t even really want to interact with me anymore, unless it’s for food, water or to watch a movie. I guess I am redundant now? Not a chance. Bed time is still fun, and I am now finding it so stressful that I get anxiety when it gets dark because I know that is when the shit storm will hit. I know, I know that my own stress levels are adding to the drama and there are some nights I am cool as a cucumber but then there are other nights, I just release the Kraken! Then I feel guilty and tell myself I am a bad parent. I then proceed to Skype my mum and she consoles me by regaling stories about her fuck ups with me. Good to know I am carrying on a family tradition. When I was upacking our boxes I came across a little machinato (Italian expresso machine), a parting gift from a friend of mine back in Australia. As I pulled out that little, silver beauty; so simple in design yet so sophisticated – my heart lifted. After a full day unpacking crap that I didn’t need (like a million cups and mugs “just take them you never know you might need them” – yeah like never!) I held that beautifully designed gift in my hands and smiled.
I placed the machinato on the bench and left it there as a symbol of joy. That week, I took a trip to the supermarkets to do the shopping and there I stood in the coffee and tea aisle staring, looking, yearning to be able to make my own coffee. I picked up an expensive packed of ground coffee and through the packaging I could smell it; heavenly scented, sweet coffee. I don’t care how much that coffee cost me, when I got home I unpacked the shopping and made myself my first cup of real coffee and it was lovely. |
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