Wednesday, August 29, 2007


Isn't it our greatest fear?

To remain anonymous in a world of "visual"?

Fearing that our 'self' ness will become rubbed off the canvas?

Our sense of embodiment sprayed over by a skinny long-legged blond bitch?

And so we force ourselves to be joyful in a demanding and fat-free existence.

Detoxing our depressed flabs to please mankind.

Stretching our skins to reproduce humanity.

All the while exuding a scene of serenity.

Because it is expected of us,

Giving, Healing, Caring, Giving again,

When truly,

We could be emancipated and




Saturday, August 25, 2007

Detaching my Ear for Love

I first laid eyes on him one October morning,

Squatting and blowing onto the coconut husks

Willing for the fire to reignite,

Sweat dripping off his wide forehead,

His arms blackened by charcoal,

His lavalava was lifted to expose muscly thighs.

I scolded myself mentally for staring so longingly.

I'm here for an errand, not to gawk at strange beautiful men, I remind myself unconvincingly.

"What do you want?" Muscly thighs called out,

"My mother sent me to get a tauaga" I answered nervously.

He dropped the husks, walked across the earth kitchen and reached for the tauaga.

"Give it back, its our only one"

I knew nothing of him, he was a stranger in our village.

One day he was there, the next, he had disappeared, exiting only in my thoughts and dreams.

The following month, I boarded the Salafai ferry with my heavy umu basket
I did not notice the man following me up the stairs

Until I was in the dark corner of the car port, when he touched my shoulder lightly and said "O oe lea ga avea le makou kauaga a?"

I pretended I didn't know him, although my dreams revolved around his muscly thighs.
I tried to remain unimpressed but his smile was kind and warm.

From that time on, we met in secret, wrote love letters to each other and talked endlessly on the ferry to and from Mulifanua.

My heart has eloped, Aue, ua avaga lo'u loto

I wanted him to take me to his village, but he refused saying his family are busy with a faalavelave.

I wanted him to come to my house but he refused because my father might dismember him.
And so we continued to meet in secret, in beach fales, in park reserves, on queen poto buses, under tamaligi trees, under fu'afu'a trees, beyond sea walls, and wherever a taxi was willing to take us.

That was 6 months ago.

I lie here now, watching the ants crawling on the ceiling, hearing the pilis croaking now and then, counting the nails from one corner to the next, memorising the number of louvres on the shabby window frame. Ten cars have passed in the last 3 minutes, one of those is a bus playing Vaniah, "Liliu le taimi"

I've lost count of weeks, days, hours.
I want to scratch my chin, but,

My arm is rendered useless for now, my leg suspended on wires,

At least I can see through my right eye.

I can't feel my neck but the brace is biting into my shoulders.

They said my left ear cannot be reattached.

Oh, but the venom of an angry Samoan woman.

My lover forgot to mention

That he was happily married.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Samoa as youve never seen it

Okay, im back to the blog platform to refit my blog crown and hang my dirty laundry.
Because apparently, no one is coming to check this page anymore, so all the better for me to spik moi moind again, hahah

As I type, Apia is frothing at the mouth with SPG fever.

And frankly, its great for our prettiful country. For we can only move forward. Nevermind that its a shove forward, as opposed to a well planned step ahead.


The roads have received its annual 'bandaid' treatment early, the bridges have been rebuilt to last 4 cyclones, not 2, every Tom Dick and Sione has built a hotel, and SPG is imprinted (albeit illegally) on handbags, tablecloths, pushbikes, kilikili bats, earrings and im sure someone's wiping their buttocks with a "Live the Dream" logo somewhere out there.

Bridge near Tuanaimato

SPG is the new black, for sure.


The drive to the airport is something out of Hong Kong, one would wonder if theres car sales all the way from Faleolo to Faleula. Villages are decorated in all colours and gadgets to welcome the althetes and to win the beautification prize from Samoa Tourism. I felt a small surge of pride in seeing the enthusiasm by villages to impress our visitors. Nofoalii village took an illuminated step by lining the road with moli kalasigi (kerosene lights), and it almost feels like we're taxing down the tarmac long before we got to Faleolo(but the potholes kinda kill the effect haha)

Another thing to mention is the stunning musical fountain feature infront of the Terminal building. How sexy to see waters oozing to Zipso and Vaniah sounds...hmmmm, i loike et, hope it lasts tho.

Our aircraft was delayed for 2 hours as it had to be refueled in Nadi before coming over. Within that time, 2 Air Calins, 1 Air Niu Gini, 1 Air Nauru landed, to be followed by 4 Air NZ flights. It was strange (to say the least) seeing the Airport Authority running like nuts organising flights. I was again so BBBBBproud, seeing how staff was thinly stretched and overworked, yet running the show as if this was normal day in Faleolo. Despite the long wait at the Lounge, it was rather entertaining seeing 600 people checked in hour after hour, and hearing staff yelling at security "eh, a kou sioa i palagi ae le o e fai kou galuega?' Everyone was so in awe with the arrivals that when we finally walked out, i found myself, alone on the tarmac, wondering where my plane was, i could have easily marched into Air Calin and flew off to new caledonia and no one would notice.

Newsline, the triweekly newspaper, had its buildings and everything burned to the ground at 2am on wednesday morning. The investigation will commence as soon as SPG is finished. hehe.

Newsline office burnt to th ground
Anyhow, it doesn't take an Einstein to conclude that the fire was deliberated started by a very frustated asshole who is angry that Newsline is exposing the truth about certain shady dealings.

Am I speculating? Am I saying that CJ's stories are pissing off the "wrong" crowd?

Well, only time will tell, but I know that this event has ignited the urge for the truth to be told, NOT hide it.

Theres is a Samoan saying, "E tau nana fua le tetea ae manino lava le mata o le vai" I will not even attempt to transliterate that because it comes out as "Try to hide the albino but the waters reflection is clear", aw well, there you go, I just butchered the beautiful Samoan alagaupu/proverb. Sorry!
My point is,

Newsline are doing a great job. Don't let these hurdles affect what is right. Its obvious that the written word is powerful. Powerful enough for a certain bitter someone to burn your buildings in anger. Hang in there Pio, Relle, Megan, Charlina, Astrid, Tili, Rosa and all the great people whose lives revolve around NEWSLINE.

Newsline will continue online at Please forward this link on so you may continue to read the truth that the arsonist (aka arseholist) doesn't want you to know.

Thats me for now, i shall be back ...