University of Wollongong Thesis Collections University of Wollongong Thesis Collection

University of Wollongong Year 2009

Cultural transformation and modernity: a Samoan case study

Deborah Colleen Gough University of Wollongong

Gough, Deborah Colleen, Cultural transformation and modernity: a Samoan case study, Doctor of Philosophy thesis, Centre for Pacific Social Transformation Studies and School of Social Sciences, Media and Communication - Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong, 2009. http://ro.uow.edu.au/theses/3090

This paper is posted at Research Online.

CULTURAL TRANSFORMATION AND MODERNITY:

A SAMOAN CASE STUDY

A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the award of the

degree

Doctor of Philosophy

from

University of Wollongong

by

Deborah Colleen Gough BAppSc, GradDipAdEd, MSocChgDev(Dist)

Centre for Asia Pacific Social Transformation Studies and School of Social

Sciences, Media & Communication

2009 CERTIFICATION

I, Deborah Colleen Gough, declare that this thesis, submitted in fulfillment of the requirements for the award Doctor of Philosophy in the School of Social

Sciences, Media and Communication, University of Wollongong, is wholly my own work unless otherwise referenced or acknowledged. The document has not been submitted for qualifications at any other academic institution.

Deborah Colleen Gough

31 August 2009

ii CONTENTS

CERTIFICATION...... II

TABLES, FIGURES & ILLUSTRATIONS...... V

GLOSSARY OF SAMOAN WORDS ...... VII

ABSTRACT...... IX

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... XI

CHAPTER 1: A ‘LIVED-IN’ CULTURE ...... 1

CHAPTER 2: MOBILITY, AN ANCIENT ISLANDER CHARACTERISTIC....21

2.1 Engaging the “Global”...... 22

2.2 Pacific Globalisation ...... 26

2.3 ’s Response to Globalisation ...... 29

CHAPTER 3: SOJOURNS, CIRCULATION, SETTLEMENT ...... 57

3.1 Mapping Migration...... 58

3.2 Creating Transnational Community...... 63

3.3 Sustaining Transnational Community...... 72

CHAPTER 4: CULTURAL TRANSFORMATION & REPRESENTATION.....110

4.1 The Reciprocity Cycle ...... 112

4.2 Fa’amatai: from the Spiritual to the Fiscal? ...... 128

4.3 Points of Susceptibility: Fault Lines Appear ...... 140

iii CHAPTER 5: MIGRATION MOTIVATION ...... 149

5.1 Early Migration: Duty or Adventure Bound...... 153

5.2 Mid-phase Migration: from the Collectivism to Individualism...... 158

5.3 Contemporary Migration: Mixing It Up!...... 169

CHAPTER 6: CONNECTIVITY, IDENTITY, BELONGING & SAMOANNESS...... 179

6.1 Place of Birth, Migration Motivation, The Era of Migration ...... 181

6.2 The Migration Pathway...... 188

6.3 Size and Pre-existing Identity of ‘Receiving’ Community...... 190

6.4 Shifting or Multiple Identity: Moving Between Selves...... 195

6.5 Torn Identity: When “Samoan In The Heart” Might Not Be Enough ...... 203

CHAPTER 7: YOUTH CULTURE, THE STATE OF ‘INBETWEENNESS’ ....207

7.1 Hip-hop: Alienation or Cultural Expression? ...... 208

7.2 Gang Membership ...... 219

CHAPTER 8: A FATAL BLOW?...... 237

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 246

APPENDIX...... 254

iv TABLES, FIGURES & ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure 1: Map of South Pacific highlighting The (Source:Polynesian Cultural Center http://polynesia.com/samoa/island-map.html)...... 3

Figure 2: Interviewee Demographic Data ...... 13

Figure 3: John Pule (1995) Lithograph “Migration” (Source: The Contemporary Pacific, Vol 15, Issue 1: 74) ...... 21

Figure 4: An ancient Polynesian canoe (Source: Pacific Islanders in Communication (PICCOM) 1998) ...... 33

Figure 5: Samoan winger, Lome Fa’atua’s pe’a during the World Cup in , 2003 (Source: Samoa Online http://www.wsamoa.ws/index.php?m=52) ...... 51

Figure 6: GDP Per Capita Variance across the Pacific Island Countries, c 1999 (Adapted from World Bank, 2006) ...... 60

Figure 7: Population Figures (Adapted from Connell, 2005) ...... 61

Figure 8: Village setting showing the traditional fale in the foreground with the ever increasing in popularity papalagi-style house behind (Source: Author)...... 80

Figure 9: Remittance Transfers to Samoa (Adapted from ADB, 2005) ...... 84

Figure 10: A typical faletele in a village setting in Samoa (Source: Author)...... 121

Figure 11: A formal lounge room in which an interview was conducted (Source: Author)...122

Figure 12: Slogan on T-Shirt worn by in (Source: Interviewee) ...... 140

Figure 13: Village roadside fundraising stand to support a . The sign reads, “BBQ $5”. (Source: Author)...... 164

Figure 14: Samoan “Street Fashion” New Zealand (Source: Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/samoans/4/2#breadcrumbtop) ...... 179

Figure 15: Detail of Victor’s pe’a (Source: Author) ...... 185

Figure 16: Darwin-based Sunameke Dance Troup with members from across the Pacific (Source: Oceanic Connections Conference http://www.hawaii.edu/cpis/dance/gallery/sunameke.htm) ...... 191

Figure 17: being performed at Darwin’s Samoan Independence Day celebrations, 2006 (Source: Author)...... 193

Figure 18: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E (Source: Huey http://www.mtv.com/music/artist/boo_yaa_tribe/artist.jhtml#bio)...... 209

v Figure 19: King Kapisi outside Victoria University (Source: Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand http://www.teara.govt.nz/NewZealanders/NewZealandPeoples/Samoans/5/ENZ- Resources/Standard/5/en) ...... 212

Figure 20: NiuZila (New Zealand) youth “wearing colours” (Source: Niu Sila 2009) ...... 219

Figure 21: “Trendy” al fresco dining, Central , Samoa (Source: Author) ...... 223

Figure 22: At the Manhattan Club in downtown Salt Lake City, Pacific Islanders flashed gang symbols and both traditional and gang-related . (Source: Sullivan 2005) ...... 229

Figure 23: Family Support and Youth Leadership Centre, Tacoma, Washington State, USA (Source: Author)...... 231

vi GLOSSARY OF SAMOAN WORDS

The words included in this list are those only that appear in the text of this thesis. They are generally as explained to me by those Samoans I met during my study. Alternatively I came to understand the meaning of these words via the work of others studying in the field. Where this is the case their contribution is acknowledged in the text.

‘Aiga family

‘Aiga potopoto extended family

Afakasi term to describe child of mixed parentage, ‘half-cast’

Ala established mobility pathways

Ali’i ‘high chief’

Alofa love

Fa’aaloalo respect

Fa’alavelave obligation to meet an occasion such as

Fa’amatai the way of the chiefs (responsible for polity)

Fa’apalagi following European ways

Fa’aSamoa the ‘Samoan Way’,

Fa’ataupati Slap or mosquito dance

Fale tele customary meetinghouse, also faletele

Fale traditional dwelling

Fiafia celebration

‘Ie toga fine mats

Lapa lapa high-energy Samoan dance

Malaga formal journey, visiting group

Maliu funeral

Malu female above the knee

vii Mana spirit, spiritual awareness, divine power

Matai head of ‘aiga (colloquially called ‘chief’)

Nuu village

Pakea New Zealand Maori for non- Maori person

Palagi European, foreigner, white person, also pa’apalagi

Pe’a traditional male tattoo from waist to knee

Siva dance

Suegatupe fundraising for a specific occasion

Tafao to wander (about)

Tala Samoan dollar (roughly 50 AUD cents)

Tamali’i high chief/s, also ali’i

Tatau tattoo

Taualuga final siva (dance)

Taulima tattoo on upper arm

Taupou daughter of a high chief

Tautua to provide service

Tufuga tattooist (traditional)

Tulafale orator/s chief

Usita’i obedience

Va’a social space related to place, distance and connection

viii ABSTRACT

Understanding the impact of global influences on the ‘local’ is fundamental to the study of social and cultural transformation. Using Samoa as a case study this research seeks to engage in this debate by critiquing the impact of contemporary globalisation on an indigenous culture. Samoa was chosen as a case study because of its global engagement and because its culture, fa’aSamoa, is celebrated for resilience. The Samoan people, like many Pacific Islanders, are renowned for their mobility. After World War II sojourns turned into more permanent journeys, however, when increasing numbers of Samoans responded to offshore opportunities. What resulted was the formation of a vibrant Samoan community across the Pacific Rim. Exploring the nexus between this ‘transnational corporation of kin’ and the impact on contemporary Samoan society is at the core of this thesis. In so doing this study engages with broader debates around development, modernity and cultural transformation.

The primary research data for the study was gathered through interviews with Samoans in New Zealand, Australia, USA and Samoa. Interview questions centered on migration history and motivation, identity, life in the diaspora and cultural changes. Supplementary data was sourced via public internet sites, artwork, novels, poetry, music, documentary film and newspapers. In order to critique cultural change, whereby teasing out points of tension and negotiation, I examined what were judged to be indicative areas of susceptibility: the traditional system of governance, fa’amatai, the shifts in motivations behind people’s decision to migrate and changes around personal, group and community identity.

The findings are detailed in four chapters focusing on changing forms of cultural enactment, shifts in motivation behind emigration, issues of identity and a specific chapter on youth ‘inbetweenness’. Complexity has increased across all sectors of the Samoan community. In particular the fa’matai governance system is under increasing pressure, with some questioning its capacity to negotiate the added burden. Most, however, continued to express confidence, pointing to its on-going flexibility and increasing openness. Given

ix the centrality of this system to fa’aSamoa the implications are highly significant. The impact of shifting attitudes and behaviour around emigration, and changing ideas about identity and ‘connectivity’ were, likewise, found to have the potential to devastate fa’aSamoa. It is ultimately concluded, however, that Samoans will continue their process of strategic adaptation and that fa’aSamoa will continue to hold relevance and provide guidance.

The implications of this research go beyond the bounds of the Samoan case study. First noted is the need to culturally contextualise studies and next, the importance of seeking out and encompassing indigenous knowledge. There are implications also for our understanding of development. The findings of this study highlight the need also to recognise the ongoing place of tradition in the lives of indigenous peoples everywhere, even those who have ‘reached’ a state of modernity. Finally the importance of facilitating strong transnational networks is stressed. Maintaining pathways will assist the network to remain strong which, in turn, has implications for the economic, political and social wellbeing of those living within it and for the as a whole.

x ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A project like this could not happen without a great deal of support. I therefore make the following heartfelt acknowledgements:

First of all, thanks must go to Andrew Wells, who has been my mentor and friend throughout this project. Without his confidence I would have never considered undertaking a thesis in the first place. Andrew’s engagement with my ideas, encouragement and commitment has been outstanding. Tim

Scrase’s encouragement is likewise acknowledged. Tim always provided whatever support I asked of him. In particular he excelled at allowing me to be the researcher that I needed to be, and in being there right to the end. I was privileged to have Kate Hannan join my supervisory team for a time also. I thank her for her expertise and both personal and professional support, all given generously.

There have been others within the University of Wollongong with whom I have had the great pleasure to work. Many have mentored my journey, in particular, Glenn Mitchell, Michael Adams and Gordon Waitt. I have enjoyed support from the general staff in the Faculty of Arts also; I acknowledge the same with appreciation. Thanks also to the staff at the Shoalhaven campus, particularly Tracey, Laurie, Sam and Brad who ‘shared’ my stress and made the ‘IT magic’ happen when I needed it most! Finally, I thank the librarians one and all!

To those who hosted me in the field I am forever grateful: mentor, colleague and dear friend Muagututia Sefuiva Reupena Muagututia in Samoa; Sala in

Auckland; Loretta in Tacoma; Christine in Darwin; Professors Elizabeth

xi Brusco in Tacoma, Washington State and Paul Shankman in Boulder,

Colorado, USA. A very special note of thanks also to the many Samoans who generously shared their stories with me – your openness inspires me.

To those friends who have shared this journey, (in no particular order), Dino for the conversations; John & Lindsay for being divine; (Dr) Rod, whose friendship I carry with me; Prince for his faith; Lynda for the inspiration;

Jeremy for endless encouragement and ‘fanciful distractions’; Fern for her spirit; Ken & Ron for being-there, despite the miles; Julie, for being an angel- on-earth; Carolyn & Jaije who supply sanity and indulge my insanity; Al &

Halinka for the cups of tea and the ‘everyday’; Steph for the quiet spaces, Paul for the ‘few words’ but enormous support; Allyson, for being a rock; Adrienne for being an anchor; Jupp & Georgie for the understanding, cakes and sharing

James and Grace with me and finally to Annie, Bruce, Keira & Liam for ‘home and hearth’, for being there when I needed, but equally for staying away, when

I needed that too!

To Talisman for endless days and nights of companionship, to Popstar for being the dancing queen that she is, to Penry for making me laugh, to Gus for the ‘big loves’ and Lulu, the newest kid on the block for arriving … And to all of them for the much needed walks along beaches and down lanes!

Finally, to my amazing parents: my father, Neville, for showering me with love and my mother, Vera; I’ve never had to look further than her for inspiration.

She is mother, friend, support-system and collaborator – I dedicate this thesis to her with deep heartfelt gratitude and love.

xii CHAPTER 1: A ‘LIVED-IN’ CULTURE

Please see print copy for image

(Samoa Tourism Authority 2008http://www.wsamoa.ws/index.php?m=52) Fa’aSamoa is the culture of the Samoan people. It is both a political and social system prescribing all aspects of traditional Samoan life. Literally meaning

“The Samoan Way”, it governs how a Samoan should be. Fa’aSamoa is an everyday ‘lived-in’ culture. It determines social interactions between each and every member of family and village, particularly dictating behaviour towards people of higher status. It outlines rights and obligations and how custom should be enacted. All crucial aspects of Samoan life, such as fa’amatai, or

“The Way of the Chiefs” (being that aspect of fa’aSamoa that holds particular responsibility for Samoan polity), ‘aiga or kin-group, tautua meaning to provide service, fa’alavelave or obligations, alofa meaning love and fa’aaloalo or respect are contained within fa’aSamoa. Fa’aSamoa is both ancient and contemporary. It evolved from the time the islands were settled 3,000 years ago. Outwardly stoic and seemingly immutable it has proven itself to be a flexible system. Its contemporary presence in the lives of Samoans across the globe is witness to considerable cultural adaptation; adaptation that ensures fa’aSamoa remains a central identifier, still claimed as being ‘in the heart’ of every proud Samoan to this day.

Samoai is in the South Pacific, in the ‘heart of ’ (Refer Figure 1). It is located approximately 4,500 kilometres from Sydney, 3,500 from ,

4,000 from Honolulu and 7,500 kilometres from Los Angeles. There are nine islands that make up Samoa, with approximately ninety nine per cent of the land mass taken up by the two main islands – and Savaii. Like surrounding countries it is oft touted as an ‘island paradise’ and yet, while the

2 Samoan Tourism Authority beckons visitors to its shores, Samoans themselves are leaving for distant lands.

Please see print copy for image

Figure 1: Map of South Pacific highlighting The Polynesian Triangle (Source:Polynesian Cultural Center http://polynesia.com/samoa/island-map.html)

Contemporary emigration from Samoa commenced in earnest post World War

II. At its simplest it is a story of labour migration. The story is a familiar one for scholars and theorists of migration theory: members of a less developed country take advantage of the opportunities afforded to them by richer neighbours. Certainly there are elements of this version that are true. Samoans do migrate to gain employment and seek also to improve the lives of their kin by sending remittances back to their (island) home. This version, however, is

3 far too basic: complex webs of economic, social and political linkages network those Samoans who are now part of a global diaspora. Importantly the island homeland of Samoa is pivotal to this transnational web. Fa’aSamoa also remains fundamental to both island and diasporic life. Arguably it is fa’aSamoa upon which the diaspora was built and has, thus far, been maintained.

Inevitably fa’aSamoa has undergone change as a result of this process. The purpose of this thesis is to explore this cultural adaptation, ultimately to tease out the tensions and speculate as to what the future might hold. I do this by exploring a number of interrelated processes. First, I explore the nexus between adaptations within the indigenous system of governance and broader cultural shifts. Next, I look at shifts in motivations behind people’s decision to migrate. Finally, I enter the debate on identity and explore what I came to term ‘connectivity’. The exploration of the indigenous governance system covers key aspects of fa’aSamoa, particularly changes to fa’amatai. Shifting attitudes towards migration reflect broader cultural changes; this is particularly true of the motivation behind migration. By exploring these changes I have attempted to tease out the link between out-migration and shifting cultural norms, which includes the demands of cultural enactment and the influence these may be having on desire to immigrate. The last aspect investigated, connectivity, looks at issues of self, belonging and ‘Samoanness’.

Within all, social rather than economic factors are considered. The discourse concerning remittances is perhaps the obvious exception to this. Even there remittances are framed by a discussion on reciprocity, its role in meeting

4 cultural obligations and thus sustaining social networks. Ultimately I view this set of adaptations as windows into a culture-in-transition, questioning cultural viability in the process by ‘teasing out’ some of the consequential tensions that now exist. As part of this approach I specifically look at out-migration as a response to the latest wave of upheaval to impact Samoa, seeking to explore the cultural resilience that Samoa is so famed for. Fa’aSamoa originally evolved within a ‘closed’1 island-based system. Undeniably it has faced many challenges since that time. It is fair to suggest, however, that few had the potential to cause the degree of disruption of this latest set of circumstance. In part this is the dilemma that this thesis attempts to address; given an ongoing and pervasive set of circumstances that scatters people beyond what would appear to be their cultural and physical boundaries, what might the impact be?

This study evolved from an interest in contemporary globalisation in .

One aim of this thesis then is to contribute to our understanding of this impact from an Oceanic vantage point. Specifically it is a study of how Samoans attempt to mediate, to manage, the effects of globalisation on their community and culture. It is concerned with out-migration as a strategic response to

‘outside’ opportunity; migration was chosen because it has such a profound influence on the island of Samoa and Samoans. Despite this I do not look at migration per se but rather view at it as a change-agent. The intrigue of the classic ‘push-pull’ focus of historical migration studies decreased as my interest in cultural transformation developed. Accordingly, the cultural links upon

1 As stressed elsewhere in this thesis the Samoans, like all , where known for their sea-fearing skills, thus the islands that make up Samoa where never truly ‘closed’.

5 which the Samoan diaspora is built are crucial to this study. The way that migrants sustain connections across the diaspora, particularly the way that the web of ‘mutually dependent interconnectivity’ affects the Samoan culture, is of central importance. Samoan concepts of migration do not fit comfortably within conventional views that equate migration to displacement, a severing of links and permanency. Recognition of the limitations of such thinking led me to the discourse on transnationalism, the theoretical framework that ultimately frames this study. Notwithstanding this I first seek to place the Samoan diaspora within a historical-cultural framework. In doing so I am attempting to acknowledge indigenous understanding of migration, development, economy and politics. Samoans seeking to migrate are introduced early as ‘travellers’, for example, where mobility is central to culture. The Samoan word, malaga, colloquially translated as ‘travel’, is introduced to support the intersection between what was, and still is, the customary practice of movement between people and place and contemporary migration. The cultural importance of va, or the social space related to place, distance and connectivity and tautua, providing service, are also discussed. Fa’alavelave, as a conduit to cultural connection and sustainability is likewise argued. In doing so I do not, however, deny the discontent that exists when the relevance of fa’alavelave is questioned, when today it may be considered a burden, an unwelcomed obligation that has become a driver to immigration in its own right. This too is explored. It is important, however, to attempt to acknowledge both the indigenous meaning of custom and also its place in contemporary lives.

6 An overarching aim of this study is to examine the impact of a contemporary set of circumstances on an indigenous culture. In this case the ‘outsider’ force is the engagement with global change and the case study is Samoa; chosen because of the perennial strength attributed to its culture. The place of tradition and custom in present-day lives is, as a result, central to this thesis.

The weight still given to fa’aSamoa by otherwise overtly ‘modernised’ Samoans in the diaspora is a case in point. Conventional thinking around development means that the pathway from underdevelopment to development is seen as a linear process; given the opportunity people embrace the latter over the former. This model also presumes that ‘antiquated’ traditions and customs will be shed; an assumption that is founded on a set of ideals that defines culture in purely economic terms. It supposes that economic advancement supplants other cultural drivers and, in so doing, determines all else in society, including beliefs and values. Closely associated with this set of assumptions is another that presupposes that modernity contains all elements of life that are needed for satisfaction. To extend this to its logical conclusion, tradition is seen to lose its value, only to be ‘cast-aside’. This is far from true in the case of Samoa.

Samoans have indeed embraced those opportunities afforded them through access to the cash economy and associated ‘modern living’ although they have not, on the whole, dismissed their traditions. In fact the opposite is true. They have not only taken their culture with them but they continue to embrace it, going to great lengths to sustain it. Contemporary ideas of economics do not determine all aspects of their lives; despite what might be anticipated, tradition retains its appeal. In choosing to embrace modernity on the one hand and yet

7 also nurture tradition on the other, Samoans are calling into question the assumptions behind a linear process of underdevelopment-to-development. By inference the nexus between modernity and tradition also blurs. To put it another way, social transformation is not a one-way route to modernity, or at least not to the model of modernity that is conventionally touted. It is clear that

Samoans still embrace fa’aSamoa; that it provides contemporary meaning, richness, to their lives. They do this in spite of the resultant tensions; tensions that, at least in part, exist because of the continuance of ‘living culture’ outside of Samoa. For the vast majority of Samoans I interviewed they saw fa’aSamoa as a metaphor to describe their everyday lives and as an actual set of strategies that frame cultural practice, including fa’amatai and fa’alavelave. Still, as discussed throughout the thesis, there are varying degrees of commitment to the actual enactment of culture, to meeting customary obligations for example.

Notwithstanding such variation, there were few who saw fa’aSamoa as anything less than having direct relevance to their lives. Today the ‘value’ placed on this relevance does not, however, go unquestioned. Real-life enactment of cultural institutions, or moving beyond the cultural metaphor if you like, is more often than not problematic. Meeting cultural obligation is now a point of negotiation and, where possible, burdens will be mitigated. As the voices of Samoans illustrate throughout this discourse, the story is thus anything but simple.

The complexity is illustrated particularly well in the lives of one-and-a-half and second-generation Samoan youth living in the diaspora. For this reason there

8 is a specific section on youth, Youth culture: the state of ‘inbetweenness’, included in this thesis. Youth are at the edge of cultural modification; they are both the victims and agents of change. It is interesting, for example, that what might otherwise be considered a negative influence on culture, such as the embracing rap music by young Samoans, can be argued otherwise. It can in fact be seen in a positive light, where tradition is adapted and thus enacted in new forms.

Arguably this is not a way of dismissing nor supplanting culture but maintaining it or, at least, providing a pathway to creativity and solutions.

Methodology

I came at this study with an inductive approach; based on the analysis of a set of observations my ideas and conclusions developed following a process of reasoning. The supporting empirical data was collected in a number of ways.

In the majority, data was gained from field-based interviews conducted between August 2004 and June 2006. These were arranged with study participants following ‘snow-balling’ from one contact to another. Each interview was centred on a pre-designed questionnaire with key themes: migration history and motivation; identity; life in the diaspora and cultural transformations (Refer Appendix 1 for a copy of the questionnaire). Before any formal fieldwork interviews were conducted I immersed myself in the literature and conducted an introductory tour to Samoa. This approach helped inform and define my study; in particular it assisted with decisions regarding fieldwork locations and the makeup of the interview questionnaire. A total of thirty-seven (37) formal interviews were conducted across four main locations:

9 Apia, Samoa; South Auckland, New Zealand; Darwin, Australia and Tacoma,

Washington State, USA. I was also fortunate to interview I’iga Vui Siaosi’s, who is both a traditional matai and modern cultural leader, while in Boulder,

Colorado, USA. Likewise I was lucky to record an interview with Morgan

Tuimaleali’fano from , a Samoan matai and academic, when he was in

Canberra, ACT for a conference. Formal recorded interviews were generally one to two hours in duration, although it was not that unusual for interviews to go for up to three hours, particularly when conducted with the assistance of an interpreter or when more than one person was being interviewed.

The locations outside of Samoa were chosen for a number of reasons. I was interested in conducting a comparative study covering a number of diasporic communities. To the best of my knowledge no other study has been conducted across the three primary migration destinations of Samoans – New Zealand,

Australia and the USA. Within each country I also wanted to look for contrast. South Auckland was chosen because the Samoan community there is so well established. Two out of three of the 131,000 Samoans who live in New

Zealand (Statistics New Zealand Tatauranga Aotearoa 2009) live in

Auckland; one third in turn live in Manukau city, south of Auckland (Te Ara

Encyclopedia of New Zealand 2009). Conversely Darwin was chosen for exactly the opposite reason. There are approximately 15,000 Samoan born

Samoans living in Australia, with the largest populations being in NSW, Qld and Victoria (Australian Bureau of Statistics 2009). With only an estimated fifty Samoans in Darwin the population is too scant to have a strong presence

10 or independent identity. Tacoma, Washington was chosen also because the population there is small, particularly in comparison to the large Samoan populous in Los Angeles and San Francisco. One other factor that makes the population of Tacoma of interest is the close links many Samoans have to the military. The migration stories of the Samoans across the interview sites provided good contrast in a number of other ways too. The migration pathway is obviously different, as are the social, political and economic networks established in each area. A range of factors relating to study location also affected ideas around identity and connectivity.

I raise three qualifications in relation to the interviews. First, I do not claim to have interviewed a representative cross-section of Samoans. I was interested in the collective issues raised and opinions expressed, rather than the statistical makeup of the sample. While I did not have a specific demographic profile of interviewees in mind I was conscious of trying, however, to reach a cross- section. I managed to interview Samoans of all ages2; a selection of those who had recently migrated through to those who can claim to be ‘early migration pioneers’, both sexes are well represented and the socio-economic status of interviewees varied. High-status individuals such as ministers of religion and matai are included. (Refer Figure 2 for details on interviewees). Second, the numbers of interviewees varies across the locations: South Auckland, New

Zealand, nineteen (19); Tacoma, USA, six (6); Darwin, Australia, five (5) and

2 Few formal recorded interviews were conducted with people under 25; however, their voices are represented through other avenues including the use of material from informal interviews, Internet sites, documentaries and music. It is worth noting also that many of the youth voices sourced through these means are those of one-and-a-half or second generation Samoans.

11 Apia, Samoa, seven (7). Once again I was not interested in a proportional representation from each place but gaining thematic data from which I could extrapolate. The final caveat relates to the extended matai case studies used; all three interviewees are privileged by birthright, education and opportunity. I recognise that this has significant bearing on the interviews. This was not unintentional. The reason that these three were selected for the study was for exactly this reason – each is a strong leader with both the desire and the ability to critique the issues that confront those they have been chosen to guide. The insight they were thus able to provide was invaluable. It is questionable as to whether individuals of lesser-rank or privilege would have been able to do the same. The fact that they live in three different countries (Samoa, USA and

Fiji) and live dissimilar lives was also seen as a positive.

12 Figure 2: Interviewee Demographic Data

Date Location # Sex Age Place of Birth Year Age @ Yrs Occupation migrated Migration here

08/2004 Apia 32 M 43 Samoa N/A N/A N/A Nurse 08/2004 Apia 33 F 38 Samoa N/A N/A N/A Book Keeper 08/2004 Apia 35 F 32 Auckland, NZ Apia 30 2 Small Business 08/2004 Apia 36 F 41 Dunedin, NZ Apia 22 19 Public Servant 08/2004 Apia 38 F 16 Auckland, NZ Apia 15 1 Student 11/2004 Auckland 1 F 45 Samoa 1987 28 17 Cleaner

11/2004 Auckland 2 M 53 Samoa 1985 34 19 Public Servant 12/2004 Auckland 3 F 42 Samoa 1980 18 24 Loans processor 12/2004 Auckland 4 F 20 Samoa 1992 8 12 University student 12/2004 Auckland 5 M 48 Samoa 1997 41 7 Forklift driver 12/2004 Auckland 6 F 43 Samoa 1997 36 7 Packer 12/2004 Auckland 7 F 27 Samoa 1990 13 14 Accounts assistant 12/2004 Auckland 8 M 58 Samoa 1996 50 8 Receiving benefits 12/2004 Auckland 9 F 55 Samoa 1989 40 15 Receiving benefits 12/2004 Auckland 10 M 30 Samoa 2003 29 1 Polytech student 12/2004 Auckland 11 F 44 Samoa 1983 23 21 Factory worker 12/2004 Auckland 12 F 53 Samoa 1970 19 34 Cleaner 12/2004 Auckland 13 M 43 Samoa 1995 34 9 University student

13 Date Location # Sex Age Place of Birth Year Age @ Yrs Occupation migrated migrate here

12/2004 Auckland 15 F 64 Samoa 1960 20 44 Clerk/Student 12/2004 Auckland 14 F 40 Samoa 1995 31 9 Factory worker 12/2004 Auckland 16 M 58 Samoa 1971 25 33 Clerk/Councillor 12/2004 Auckland 17 F 28 Auckland, NZ N/A N/A N/A Senior Teacher 12/2004 Auckland 18 M 37 Samoa 2002 35 2 Minister 12/2004 Auckland 19 F 36 Samoa 2002 33 2 Minister’s wife 08/2005 Apia 34 F 37 Wellington, NZ Apia 27 10 Teacher 08/2005 Apia 37 M 51 Samoa N/A N/A N/A Small Business 04/2006 Tacoma 20 M 50 Samoa 1964 8 32 Pastor 04/2006 Tacoma 21 F 48 Samoa 1959 1 33 Childcare 04/2006 Tacoma 22 F 51 1966 11 40 CEO of NGO 04/2006 Tacoma 23 F 54 Samoa 1962 20 29 Nurse 04/2006 Tacoma 24 M 27 American Samoa 1996 18 1 Teacher/Uni 04/2006 Tacoma 25 M 54 Newport, Virginia, USA 1990 18 17 Public Servant

05/2006 Darwin 27 F 58 Samoa 1972 11 33 Public Servant 05/2006 Darwin 28 M 46 Wellington, NZ 1987 11 35 Industrial Electrician 06/2006 Darwin 29 F 53 Samoa 1979 15 28 Nurse 06/2006 Darwin 30 F 51 Samoa 1975 17 31 Domestic 06/2006 Darwin 31 F 20 Samoa 2004 18 2 Public Servant

14 In addition to the recorded interviews twenty (20) informal interviews were carried out. Conducted in a variety of places, usually in less formal settings – airports, bus stops, food markets, at shops and in nightclubs – and sometimes outside of the main study areas they were generally more opportunistic in nature. As such they proved particularly valuable for capturing youth opinion.

The same themes were explored as in the formal interviews, with similar questions being asked. Supplementary research data was also sourced via public internet sites, artwork, novels, poetry, music, documentary film and newspapers.

While the material from the interviews is used to inform all discourse it appears most commonly in the empirical chapters, four to seven. For the most part only extracts from the interviews appear in the text. There are a number of places, however, where I have included greater detail of a particular interviewee’s case. I have done this where a range of issues is neatly encompassed in the one interview and thus the extended use of the data is justified. Included in the discussion, Cultural transformations and representations, there are three matai case studies: Muagututia, Morgan Tuimaleasli’ifo and

I’iga Vui Siaosi. Rather than add my own voice and interpretation to these interviews I chose instead to let them ‘stand-a-lone’, confident that they each represent crucial issues and provide quality internal critique. Except in the case of the latter two case studies – elements of each profile being publicly accessible elsewhere - all interviewee names have been replaced with pseudonyms. There is no change, however, to any socio-economic and demographic information provided.

15 There are three features of this thesis that invite comment: its multidisciplinary nature, my outsider cultural status and limitations on any bounded research topic. In order to do justice to the complexity of this study a multidisciplinary approach was chosen, employing insights from history, sociology, human geography, migration studies, development studies and cultural studies. It is hoped that this approach provides context and enriches the study in its totality. Next, I am not Samoan and thus this work is written from an

‘outsider’ perspective. Senior academic and cultural Samoans allayed my own concerns about this before I proceeded with the study; they assured me that they could see value in a non-Samoan scholar providing critique. They saw the advantage in this approach, hoping that I would be able provide an alternate perspective than that of the ‘insider’. Nevertheless I am aware that there is an inherent risk in undertaking a study that is based on a culture that is not my own. I employed a number of strategies in an attempt to mitigate any risks: I discussed my work with Samoan mentors as often as possible; I prioritised the need to contextualise my work early in the thesis; I went to considerable lengths to comprehend the Samoan view and I let the voices of those interviewed ‘speak for themselves’ wherever feasible. The length of the thesis itself is the final consideration raised here. A study of the Samoan diaspora is potentially infinite; it was obviously necessary to limit aspects of this study so as to make it feasible in terms of the time and length of the thesis.

Chapter Overview

Chapter 2, Mobility, An Ancient Islander Characteristic provides the context of the study. Its purpose is to link the ‘global’ with ‘local’. Globalisation as a general

16 force is discussed. This is followed by a more pointed discussion on globalisation in the South Pacific, including an examination of the Samoan response to both the opportunities and challenges confronted. This approach was chosen in order to frame migration, generally seen as a modern phenomenon, within a historical and cultural perspective. Next, present-day

Samoan life, both island and diasporic, is detailed. The chapter closes by asking the question (is this) “A Sustainable Future?” This question hints at the degree of cultural and social complexity that is now faced by Samoans. It is the study of this complexity that is the essence of this thesis.

The study is further contextualised in Chapter 3, Sojourns, Circulation and

Settlement, through a discussion of migration theory. The chapter begins by looking at migration in general and then moves on to critique a number of models, labour and circulatory migration and transnationalism in particular.

The transnational model of migration is further examined by looking specifically at how Samoan communities have established and sustained themselves in the diaspora. Part of this latter process sees the importance of remittances as a ‘operationalising agent’ critiqued. Finally, like the previous chapter, it ends with a question (is this) “An Ominous Future?” a question that once more hints at the challenges confronting Samoa and Samoans everywhere.

The following four chapters are based on the analysis of the empirical research collected during this study. In order to explore the impacts of global change key changes to a number of pivotal aspects of contemporary Samoan lives are exemplified. Chapter 4, Cultural Transformation & Representation is concerned

17 with the way the fa’amatai system of indigenous governance is adapting while

Chapter 5, Migration Motivation look at shifts in migration motivation and the implications this has for cultural sustainability. Issues of identity are looked at in Chapter 6, Connectivity, Identity, Belonging & Samoanness; in this chapter I am interested in the increased degree of complexity behind modern ideas of

‘Samoanness’ and the impact this may have on cultural ‘connectivity’. The empirical part of the thesis ends with a chapter dedicated to youth, Youth culture, the state of ‘Inbetweenness’. The majority of hopes and fears expressed to me during this study were centred on youth; some people fear that they will be

‘lost’ and the culture eroded as a result, while others see them as a vibrant part of Samoa’s future. This chapter explores the tension between these two opposing sets of conditions.

In summary this thesis uses the case study of Samoa to engage with debates around cultural transformation. It does so by exploring four key facets; the importance of taking indigenous understandings into account; the place of tradition in contemporary lives; cultural tenacity, adaptation and sustainable transformation and, finally, the nexus between underdevelopment and modernity. In the final chapter, Chapter 8: A Fatal Blow? I conclude that

Samoans will continue their process of strategic adaptation and that, notwithstanding endemic tensions, fa’aSamoa will continue to hold relevance and provide guidance. The importance of vibrant transnational pathways that enable the economic, political and social avenues necessary to link diasporic populations together is thereby recognised. It is reasoned also that Samoan identity, so closely linked with fa’aSamoa, will continue to evolve, albeit with

18 increasing complexity. Finally, I contend that culture, tradition and custom appear to remain central to the ‘worth’ of Samoans everywhere. Moreover, that Samoans are not on a one-way journey to modernity. Samoans are not intent on leaving behind the ‘old’ traditions in order to reach a state of

‘development’. On the contrary custom is incorporated into contemporary

Samoan lives with fa’aSamoa valued today just as it has always been.

Negotiation, tension and adaptation are inherently embedded in this process; the enactment of ‘Samoanness’ will change, creativity pathways will develop and solutions will be discovered, but at the end of the day Samoans and fa’aSamoa will endure.

19 1 This thesis is centred on the group of islands that are today known as Samoa. Up until Independence in 1962 New Zealand had been responsible for the Administration of Samoa under the auspices of the United Nations, New Zealand having assumed control of “Western Samoa” from as a result of World War 1 in 1918. The total Samoan archipelago had in fact been separated by the signing of the Treaty of Berlin in 1899; when the western side of the island group, Western Samoa, was taken over by Germany while the eastern group of islands became “American Samoa” because of existing USA navy interests. In order to better reflect its regained state of independence Samoa changed its name from “Western Samoa” to “The Independent State of Samoa” in 1997, which is why it is sometimes referred to as Independent Samoa. While Samoa was politically divided into eastern and western colonial territories with the signing of the Treaty of Berlin the culture, fa’aSamoa, remains consistent across the archipelago; the Samoan people were not divided and family connections remain strong. This actuality is reflected in the attitudes and beliefs expressed by all participants of the study, regardless of country of birth. While the vast majority of formal interviewees were born in Samoa, those from American Samoa expressed an intimate connection to Samoa and visa versa; when it came to matters of culture they were quick to point out that their cultural beliefs across the two countries are ‘as one’. For this reason no distinction has been made in relation to country of origin and discussions of fa’aSamoa.

20 CHAPTER 2: MOBILITY, AN ANCIENT ISLANDER CHARACTERISTIC

Please see print copy for image

Figure 3: John Pule (1995) Lithograph “Migration” (Source: The Contemporary Pacific, Vol 15, Issue 1: 74)

21 2.1 Engaging the “Global”

Globalization has become the hallmark of the twenty-first century as it

articulates a new form of social organization-and increasingly borderless world

where flows of capital and new technologies are propelling goods, information,

people and ideologies around the globe in volumes, and at speeds, never

previously imagined (Lockwood 2004: 1).

This chapter provides the context of the study. Its purpose is to link the

‘global’ with ‘local’. Firstly I explore the key processes behind globalisation. I start with a broad discussion of globalisation before moving onto a more specific look at globalisation in the Pacific. Lastly I look in depth at Samoa’s response to globalisation; a term that has been used since the latter part of the twentieth century to describe a set of pervasive social-cultural, economic and political transformations. To this end, ‘globalisation’ is now widely regarded as a fundamental determinant of ‘the human condition’ in contemporary society

(Castles and Davidson 2000: 5). Despite the proliferation of the term, however, there remains substantial debate as to just what globalisation is.

Differences in definition are wide ranging, suggesting that approaches to

“globalisation” are largely situational. Scholte (2005), for instance, distinguishes between five approaches: globalisation as internationalisation, as liberalisation, as universalisation, as westernisation and, lastly, as respatialisation, which is largely concerned with the spread of social connectivity. Consistent with debates as to the exact nature of globalisation there are also questions are to whether it is indeed a contemporary phenomenon and if it is, what is it that makes it unique. There are those, for example, who claim that present rapid global transformations are simply an

22 extension of capitalism. Tomlinson, as a case in point, argues that globalisation is an augmentation of long-standing western imperialism and that it simply reflects well-established patterns of global hegemony (1997 cited in Lockwood

2004). Even some of the strongest exponents of this particular framework, however, acknowledge a set of contemporary circumstances that are aptly described by the term globalisation. Harvey, for example, argues that

‘globalisation’ has always been central to capitalist development (because capital needs geographical expansion, spatial organisation and uneven geographical development). At the same time, however, he acknowledges the

‘allure’ of the term because of three major changes that ‘stand out’: financial deregulation, particularly since the 1970s; spatial reorganisation because of the

‘information revolution’ and a continuous decline in both financial and time costs associated with moving commodities around the globe (1995: 2). Still others claim that is it is a tantamount to one, or a combination of a number of trends. The first of these is the pursuit of classical liberal economic policy, commonly known as “economic liberalisation”. Second, the ardent spread of

“western” lifestyles and beliefs across the globe and next, globalisation is closely aligned with the explosion of the new information technologies such as

Internet and digital communications. Lastly, Scheurman, argues that globalisation is also associated with the phenomenon of ‘global integration’, a notion that ‘humanity stands at the threshold of realizing one single unified community’ (2006).

Regardless of definition, uniqueness or the degree of historical interconnectivity, the symbiotic relationship between globalisation and the

23 contemporary expansion of capitalism is widely touted. Proponents of neoliberal ideology argue that market driven free trade, increasing privatisation and deregulation are the keys to economic growth, which inturn creates jobs, resulting in higher incomes and subsequent standards of living

(Lockwood 2004 and Scott 2002 cited in Lockwood 2004). One consequence of a ‘global’ economy is greater economic integration, which is driven by a number of factors. First, direct foreign investment, particularly in manufacturing, real estate, tourism, banking and extraction of natural resources, increases dramatically. Next there is a proliferation of global political institutions such as the United Nations (UN), international non- government organisations (INGOs), such as International Planned

Parenthood Association and social movements, for example the environmental movement is increasing in its degree of globally integration. Lastly labour is increasingly mobile (Lockwood 2004).

Castles and Davidson (2000) use the term Globalisation to summarise a series of financial and social transformations: an increase in transnational corporations and technological advances; freer movement of capital, goods and labour; the development of supra-national institutions such as the World

Trade Organisation (WTO); an increased significance given to matters of democracy and human rights and lastly they argue the emergence of a global commitment ‘to a common set of values’ (2000: 3). They are however, particularly concerned with the effect of globalisation on citizenship. Firstly they argue that established notions of citizenship are called into question as globalisation casts doubt on the notion of the “relative autonomy of the nation

24 state”. Next they argue that globalisation undermines one of the basic tenets of

‘citizenship’; that is that, ideally, citizens belong to a particular nation state and that moreover, these citizens, and only these citizens, live exclusively within the borders of that state. In other words, globalisation undermines the

‘ideology of distinct and relatively autonomous national cultures’. Lastly, like

Lockwood, they support the claim that globalisation leads to ‘ the rapid mobility of people across national borders’ (2000: 6). One hundred million people, the vast majority of whom are ‘economic migrants’, are now estimated to live and work in countries in which they are not citizens (Robbins, 2002:

199 citied in Lockwood 2004). Moreover, it is argued that the boundaries of nation-states are being eroded by such rates of mobility and that, further, the very reason for belonging to a nation-state, that is the gaining of rights and a sense of belonging that come with citizenship, is now in question, (Castles and

Davidson 2000: vii).

The complexity and scale of the global processes involved seem to defy understanding. Beyond definition, however, the impact of globalisation is equally contentious. The expedited flow of information, goods, capital and people around the globe is having a profound impact on cultures and communities even in the most remote . Through the remainder of this chapter I seek to reconcile these global trends with a Pacific regional response and then a local response by looking in depth at Samoa. In so doing I will be exploring ‘how globally extensive social processes configure lives lived locally’

(Foster 1999: 148 cited in Lockwood 2004).

25 2.2 Pacific Globalisation

A lot of the small Island countries are perhaps not addressing their domestic economy in a

manner that is conducive for them to participate in an FTA or free trade arrangement. The

Pacific Island countries have to embrace globalisation. Re-shaping goals in Pacific Island

countries requires a tremendous amount of political will and of course understanding

(Golding 2002)

A shift in aid donor policy from the previous ‘nation-building interventionism’ in the Pacific can be traced to the mid-1990s when aid-recipient countries of the Pacific were compelled to embrace the ideology of privatisation and the free-market (Firth 2005). So much so that, today, Governments of the Pacific

Islands recognise the compelling influence that globalisation is having on their countries. It is a central theme of their affairs and they are occupied with its

‘rhetoric, … ideology, and the economic policies’ (Firth 2000: 178). The globalisation push in the Pacific was lead by the region’s largest donor,

AusAID, following international pressure to renew efforts ‘to reshape the global economy in order to achieve free trade, freedom of capital movement and supremacy of market institutions’; in 1994 Australia’s Minister for the

Pacific Island Affairs told Pacific governments that there was “’no realistic alternative to competition and the pursuit of comparative advantage, no matter how daunting these concepts may appear”’ (Fry, 1994 cited in Firth 2005: 3).

In reference to globalisation in the Pacific Lockwood divides the globe into a sub-set of three. First, there are ‘the wealthy industrialized “core”’ to which she assigns the push for ‘capitalist expansion and globalization’, next the

[then] Newly Industrializing Countries (NICs), such as Korea and Hong

Kong and lastly, ‘the rest of the “developing” world’ (2004: 3), She further

26 argues that this later group have been consumed in the capitalist system through colonialism and neo-colonialism, and are, as a consequence ‘”mired in poverty, debt and economic malaise.”’ (Gordon, 1996 cited in Lockwood 2004:

3). Pacific Island nations are heavily represented in this latter group. Their degree of engagement with the global economy is strongly influenced by a range of historical, cultural and environmental factors. Whether they are able to take advantage of the opportunities afforded through globalisation is, in turn, determined by a number of factors: political status, historical and cultural demographics and access to labour markets. The first advantage relates to whether a country is a territory of a prosperous nation state or has free association with a metropolitan state. If they do, for example American Samoa is a territory of the USA and has free association status with

New Zealand; they will have significant access to the riches and support of a foreign economy. The next set of factors, historical, cultural and demographic, covers issues such as when the country was first exposed to colonial rule and by whom, the length of time a culture has been exposed to modernity and the way that governance was set up before occupation, for example whether the residence of a particular island already had a national language and sense of national identity as was the case in Samoa. The last interrelated and yet independently vital factor is whether a country has access to labour markets outside of the region. As is discussed later in detail Samoa’s access to labour markets in New Zealand, Australia and the USA has been a key factor in its relative success (Firth 2005).

Governments of the Pacific, under the powerful influence of international

27 donors, have embraced the globalisation agenda. Since the latter half of the

1990s they have been committed to economic reforms that include increasing privatisation, public sector reform, a commitment to improving governance, tariff reductions, minimising subsidies, encouraging foreign investment and deregulation (Hannan 2006). In turn Pacific island nations are proving quite resourceful in their attempts to access global markets. One of the most colourful deals was achieved by , a small island of only 11,000 residents, which, in 2000, leased its Internet domain name, “tv”, to a Canadian company for fifty million dollars over the following decade, while others, including the Cook Islands and earn millions in income for licensing fees from their off-shore banking adventures (Lockwood 2004). More traditional means of income generation include exporting natural resources such as minerals, agriculture products, particularly coffee, sugar and products, timber or timber products from logging and marine resources. In addition, tourism is becoming increasing important, with the region as a whole receiving roughly ten million visitors per annum, which not only generates employment and training opportunities but contributes significantly to GDP

(Lockwood 2004). Pacific island communities have also sought to access international labour markets. Rates of out-migration, particularly in the surrounding Pacific Rim countries, are high. It is estimated that there are

365,000 Pacific Islanders living in the USA, 202,000 in New Zealand and a further 164,000 in Australia alone (Lee 2004). Emigration provides access to employment, training and education opportunities. It sustains the higher standard of living that Pacific Islanders have come to expect; for both those in

28 the diaspora and, through remittances, those also left ‘at home’.

2.3 Samoa’s Response to Globalisation

Samoa’s enduring image is that of a traditional, idyllic Pacific paradise. This image has been created in books and movies and captured in numerous photographs. Samoans are proud of their islands’ beauty and are equally proud of their strong culture, fa’aSamoa, which underpins traditional Samoan life. Like many other small island developing states, however, Samoa is vulnerable to outside influence. Key factors that contribute to its vulnerability include exposure to natural disasters, physical smallness, geographical location and isolation, limited technical capacity, limited exportable natural resources and limited capacity for comparative advantage.

In responding to global forces the Samoan government is no different to any other Pacific island government. Since the 1970s, in particular, it has been influenced by the set of economic policies known as economic rationalism or neoliberalism. In a global capitalist society international institutions, such as the World Trade Organisation (WTO), regulate world trade policies, currencies and loans to developing countries (Lockwood 2004). Samoa’s government policy is strongly influenced by the approach of these institutions, particularly the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank and the

Asian Development Bank (ADB) (Firth 2000).

In 1962 Samoa gained Independence, the first Pacific Island country to do so.

Despite a chequered economic record since then it is widely touted as one of the Pacific ‘success stories’ of the last decade. In this section I argue that this

29 success is largely due to Samoa’s strategic response to both the challenges and the opportunities afforded them through the contemporary global economy.

Samoans are recognised for their adaptation to new circumstances, for striving to take from the new what suits them without relinquishing traditions of great importance. They have demonstrated a tireless ability to survive through great change, such as colonialism, the coming of and occupation during wartime. Their response to globalisation has been no different: they have carved out their market niche and adjusted to meet new circumstances. They are part of the group of new transnational communities that are experiencing migration as a process of empowerment, a process that Portes refers to as

‘globalisation from below’ (Cited in Kennedy and Roudometof 2003: 6).

The most popular Western theory surrounding Polynesians is that they originated in South East Asia around 4,000 years ago. The people who would eventually arrive at the islands they called Samoa, settled there some 3,000 years ago (Government of Samoa and Juniper Films 2001). The earliest contact with Europeans arose through a European diaspora between the 16th and 18th centuries when Polynesians crewed for them as they explored the seas, sought out new territories and trading opportunities and pursued whaling

(McCall and Connell 1993). They also became indispensable as translators.

Salsea recognises three overlapping periods when Samoa’s ‘relations with the world beyond changed significantly’: the arrival of whaling ships and the first missionaries in the 1820s and ‘30s; the arrival of foreign shipping companies and subsequent ‘commercialisation’ and ‘opening-up’ of Samoa in the 1850s; and the 1870s which saw the arrival of steamships (2003: 172). This period,

30 roughly from the 1850s to 1914, has also been referred to as ‘the first period of globalization’ when economies such as Samoa’s commenced integration into the global economy (Firth 2000: 181). Along with the Europeans came

Christianity, trade and commercialisation, colonialism, the annexing of land and occupation during World War II. Anae describes these events, and more broadly the introduction of capitalism and the impact of a global economy on

Samoa, as occasions of “opposition” (2002: 163). She argues that such occasions have fueled an enduring Samoan identity both in Samoa and amongst its diasporic communities. The result is that fa’aSamoa remains a living guide, or, as Pulefa’asisina Palauni Tuiasosopo, describes it, “It is the

Samoan Way. It is who we are. The way we act, the values. That’s fa’aSamoa and it dictates the way we live each day.” (Tatge 2005). It is this enduring sense of ‘Samoanness’ and adhesion to the traditional collectivism of fa’aSamoa that has sustained Samoa and Samoans through many eras of transformation, including finding their niche in a neo-liberal globalised world.

2.3.1 A Culture of Mobility

Before they were even ‘Samoans’ Samoans had come from over the sea, and they never

stopped transversing it […] they were voyagers: witness 4000 years of Pacific maritime

history […] In this sense Samoan present echoes this past(Salesa 2003: 171).

Like many others, Samoans have joined the flow of migrants willing to take advantage of labour-force opportunity beyond their national border. As expressed by Connell there is now ’a culture of migration’ where ‘emigration is normal and anticipated’ and that ‘the life courses of island people…are increasingly embedded in international ties’ (2003: 60, 55). Building on this,

31 however, it is important to recognise that there has always been a culture of, if not migration, then mobility in the Pacific. The work of Niuean artist, John

Pule, illustrates the centrality of such themes. Pieces such as Migration (Refer

Figure 3) feature potent images – canoes, navigation aids, fish, turtles, and seabirds - that connect contemporary Polynesian lives with that of their ancestors. Images of canoes, moreover, go well beyond representations of mobility; they are a source of pride for Polynesians even to this day. Pule’s work is complex in the way that it draws on the past in order to explore the present. It has been said that he “invites us to feast the eye, to see the contemporary Pacific with new eyes … experience the Pacific’s passion, loss recovery, and creative dynamism.” (Anonymous 2003) His work helps to remind us of the place ‘migration’ has held, and continues to hold, in the lives of Pacific peoples for thousands of years.

In general, mobility in the Pacific is explained as an ancient islander characteristic (McCall and Connell 1993) and the travelers themselves as a

'sea-faring' people (Va'a 2001: 46). Samoans have long been known for their sailing ability and navigational skills, so much so that with French explorer

Admiral Louis de Bougainville landed on the islands in 1768 he was ‘so impressed with the Samoan’s numerous canoes and their skill in handling them’ that he renamed the islands “The Navigator Islands” (Polynesian

Cultural Center).

32 Please see print copy for image

Figure 4: An ancient Polynesian canoe (Source: Pacific Islanders in Communication (PICCOM) 1998)

There is strong evidence supporting the claim that early Samoans made frequent voyages between islands, concurrently exploring the space around them and expanding their resources. In the case of and Fiji, in particular, alliances for trade and marriage were made, ‘thereby expanding social networks for greater flow of wealth [and] to quench their thirst for adventure’ (Hau'ofa 1993: 8). This style of travel continued virtually unchecked until the intensification of contact with Europeans in the 1930s

(Va'a 2001).

Mobility is not just something that Samoans practice ‘off-shore’. While

Samoans were taking advantage of opportunities for ocean faring, they continued to move about their islands as they had since settlement. As Salsea says the way Samoans have always gained a sense of their place is by traveling through Samoa, that is they ‘continually re-enacted and recreated it, giving meaning to the entity’. He further argues that Samoans followed established

33 pathways, or ala, in order to connect and reconnect themselves to place and that, moreover, this internal mobility was ‘not simply a means of connecting people and places, but that this circuitry had “high stakes” [and] was fundamental to the Samoan way of life and Samoan politics’ (2003: 172).

In exploring the Samoan journeys of the past and connecting them with those of today we can begin to understand the centrality of mobility to the endurance of a . Strong links exist between the earliest

Samoan mobility, contemporary migration and the cultural roots that further connect these periods and actions. Despite this, Western scholarly work on

Samoan migration is predominantly framed in the context of post-colonial labour migration and concentrated on the post-World War II period. In order to understand the way that contemporary Samoans engage in the global system, however, it is necessary to recognise the influence of both historical and cultural aspects.

Chapman and Prothero cite an example of pre-contact circulation amongst the

Masu Abucin Rani of Nigeria, known as the ‘men who ate away in the dry season’ (1983: 612). They argue that the practice was voluntary, and that families traveled to ‘work … to maintain social contacts and to meet various obligations’. Samoan malaga, a traditional practice that remains strong today, is easily compared. Malaga is described by McGrath as a formal journey made by members of a traveling delegation; a journey that forges or reinforces social relationships across distance (2002). Like the journeys of the Masu Abucin

Rani, Salesa argues that malaga is a long-standing and fundamental aspect of fa’aSamoa. He refers to the presence of fale tele (big houses or meeting houses)

34 as being evidence that malaga is central to the very architecture and life of each village (2003). In the diaspora today the fale tele may have been replaced by church halls and formal lounge rooms but the practice of malaga lives on.

People still make trips across great distances to affirm alliances, to exchange goods (although these days it is more likely that people will also be looking to sell goods, such as fine mats, in order to raise funds) and to make plans for the future.

By the 1900s present day travel paths out of Samoa were established (Salesa

2003). Salsea goes on to state that the reasons people gave for mobility then are those also written in the literature concerning contemporary sojourns:

‘economic motives, to visit family, for education, to follow the heart… adventure … to ‘Tafao’ (wander about)’ (2003: 179). Ultimately it is Hau’ofa who reminds us of ancient connections to Oceania, such that we should view the Pacific as ‘a sea of islands’ rather than ‘far islands in a sea’:

Islanders have broken out of their confinement, are moving around and away from their

homelands, not so much because their countries are poor, but because they had been

unnaturally confined and severed from much of their traditional sources of wealth, and

because it is in their blood to be mobile (Emphasis added) (Hau'ofa 1993: 11).

2.3.2 Contemporary Migration

Pacific people continue to journey in the surrounding Pacific Rim islands.

According to Chapman and Prothero, ‘people are in constant movement [and that] defined in space and time, these movements involve both displacement and reciprocal flows of human beings (1983: 597).

35 World War II was the driving force behind many transformations in the

Pacific. Prior to World War I, Samoa was predominantly a subsistence economy. After the bombing of Pearl Harbour, however, the became an important defensive link in the Pacific with some 40,000 United

States Marines occupying the islands (O'Meara 1993: 136). Construction to support American military requirements meant that a workforce was required.

That workforce was sourced locally and, virtually for the first time, wages became standard occurrence across Samoa. In this manner, WWII radically transformed the economic structure of the Samoan islands (Va'a 2001).

Western Samoans had been exposed to the cash economy earlier via German controlled coconut plantations, however this time vast numbers of people’s expectations began to change; they now wanted to participate in the paid workforce, improve their standard of living and access goods and services not previously widely available to them. In order to fulfil these new expectations they needed to find employment outside of the subsistence economy.

Residence of American Samoa found employment opportunities outside of the

Samoan Islands by virtue of their special status in America. Concurrently, like many western countries in the post-World War II era, New Zealand looked to its former colony to meet their demand for semi and unskilled labour. Workers were needed in the mass-production factories of New Zealand and in the service sector. The indigenous peoples of the surrounding Pacific countries provided one very popular source of this labour. There followed a period of heightened migration that resulted in an increasing integration of Samoans into the global economy. This period, particularly from 1970s onwards,

36 coincides with what Firth termed the second, or current, wave of globalisation in the Pacific (2000).

New Zealand’s demand for immigrants remained high during the 1960s and into the ‘70s, the result being an era of relatively free flowing labour from

Samoa to New Zealand. Individuals came first only to be followed by other family members seeking employment, and so there was a ‘snow-balling’ of

Samoans temporarily residing in New Zealand. By 1970 almost all Samoans had relatives in New Zealand, with many being immediate family (Pitt and

Macpherson 1974) During the 1970s, however, migration policy was tightened. New Zealand began to experience recession and yet again a change in economic fortune, this time as a result of the so-termed OPEC ‘oil-crisis’.

Pacific Islanders in general became ‘scapegoats’ for a plethora of societies’ troubles, from increasing unemployment and a low standard of housing to a decline in law and order (Bedford, Macpherson et al. 2001). By the late ‘80s things had become difficult for those Pacific Islanders remaining in New

Zealand. By 1991, for example, the unemployment rate for Pacific Islanders in

New Zealand was double that of the general population, having risen to 28 per cent from 12 per cent in 1986 (Appleyard and Stahl 1995). By now, however, deep-rooted diasporic communities were working together pooling resources, much like they would have back in their island villages. As a result they managed to survive to take advantage of what opportunities, such as better education for their offspring, were also on offer.

Spoonley documents the change from individual labour migration to New

Zealand in the post World War II period to complete family unit migration or

37 reunification by the 1960s and ‘70s (2003). Others have argued also (Refer for example to Connell 2002) that the nature of the immigrant community changed with this transition. It evolved from one that was essentially seen as transient and temporarily opportunistic, that is, from one that was the result of

‘circulation’ (Chapman and Prothero 1983) to a community that was willing to lay down more roots in order to create and sustain a diasporic population.

Nevertheless it is important to remember that the drivers behind such change did not alter. People were continuing to be mobile in a way that they always had, in order to take advantage of opportunity, to unite family and to create new alliances.

As Connell concluded, migration today is far less likely to be circular in nature

(2003). Despite this, there is still an interchange of individuals between places of origin and destination and, at least up until the last decade, many such movements did conclude where they began (Chapman 1985). Tens of thousands of Samoan-born and overseas-born Samoans visit ‘the island’ every year, particularly at Christmas time and for the increasingly popular Teuila

Festival3 every September. Moreover, and notwithstanding the more permanent nature of settlement in diasporic communities, there is still the intention, hope or dream, in many people’s minds to return “home”. Most commonly this is when they retire or have at least established themselves economically to return and live a comfortable existence, to build a papalagi style (European style) house or commence a small business. Increasingly,

3 The Teuila Festival is an annual festival held in Apia, the capital of Samoa. It is an arts, craft and sports festival that celebrates Samoan tradition and custom. Highlights include the (long-boat) race on Apia harbour and the Miss Teuila Pagent.

38 however, educated young people in Samoa are speaking about obtaining a tertiary education overseas, perhaps using this education to “travel” and see different places but retaining the option of returning to Samoa to establish their careers. This seems to indicate a positive change of attitude towards life in Samoa as the country continues to develop and more opportunities become available. Even for those who do not return, the spiritual connection to home, land, birthplace, is universal; fundamentally shaping the nature of the migrants’ relationship with their chosen destination (Pitt and Macpherson

1974).

In 1966, eight per cent of Samoans were living overseas, by the mid 1970s the percentage was sixteen and by 1980 a third of Samoans were living in the diaspora (Shankman 1993: 160) in over thirty different nations (Sutter cited in

Shankman 1993). Today some 200,000 Samoan-born Samoans, equal the population in Samoa, live abroad (Huffer and So'o 2000) . The idea that these

‘transnational’ travellers are part of an emerging institution, the ‘transnational corporation of kin’, allowing groups to colonize and exploit economic opportunities across a wide range of economic environments, was first suggested as early as the mid-eighties (Bertram and Watters 1985). Today,

Samoans across the globe are active players in what has been referred to as a form of ‘meta-Samoan’ culture, a network of Samoan society that enacts culture across numerous locations. (Macpherson 1997: 95-96).

2.3.3 Obligation, Service and Culture

In addition to escaping the hardships associated with natural hazards, Connell

39 suggests that the key drivers for South Pacific migration are ‘economic even where social changes are significant’ (2003: 55) . In their early study of

Samoans residing in New Zealand, Pitt and Macpherson outline four key emigration motivations: education; obligation to family - both to join relatives in New Zealand but also to support family back in Samoa; the prestige associated with living abroad and earning wages; and economics (1974).

Shankman agrees with Pitt and Macpherson’s assessment in terms of economic motivators, citing the post-independence stagnation of the island’s economy, but argues that population growth, and a western-based education system that encourages expectations that can not yet be met in Samoa and a general lack of opportunity for youth are also driving factors (1993). What these assessments have in common is that they all place economics at the core of migration in the Pacific. While there is no question that economics is indeed a key driver of Samoan contemporary migration it is important to place

‘economics’ in its cultural context, that is, to recognise ‘the social centrality of the ancient practice of reciprocity, the core of all Oceanic cultures’(Hau'ofa

1993: 12). What is stressed here, and exemplified in the remainder of this chapter, is the importance of framing the context of the study, taking into account local perspectives and indigenous knowledge4.

In order to do so, it is necessary to understand the basis of ‘Samoanness’:

4 For an extensive discussion of the importance of doing using a Samoan context refer Sa'iliemanu, L.-D. (2009). "Beyond "Migration": Samoan Population Movement (Malaga) and the Geography of Social Space (Va)." The Contemporary Pacific 21(1): 1-32.

40 Samoan identities are predominantly sociocentric and relational and occur as a

series of contextual, situational and collectivist arrangements, in contrast to the

more internal, egocentric and individualistic self of the west (Schmidt 2003:

418).

In a ‘western’ sense, when people seek to “improve their lot in life”, we generally expect that their motivation is individual or, at most, that it extends to their offspring. In a Samoan context, however, a desire to improve ones financial position is driven more from a collective rather than an individualistic perspective. People discuss their desire for an improved life for their extended family and village, such that ‘to seek wealth for all’ is a primary migration motivation (Muliaina 2001: 25). Moreover they speak of it in terms of

“obligation” or “service”. Membership and service are central components of

“Samoanness” (Schmidt 2003). Taufa agrees, stressing the importance of not oversimplifying the reasons for Polynesian migration as purely economic as

Westerners generally understand it (2003). She paraphrases Anae, who views migration as tied to complex social, cultural and political factors, arguing that for migrant and non-migrant Polynesians, culture has to do with not only the notion of beliefs, attitudes, customs and social relations, but also with political economy (1998). This aspect is paramount when considering fa’alavelave,

(personal and family obligation), a traditional practice that requires the distribution of both material and customary wealth. In this context, fa’alavelave is not only a primary reason for emigration, that is in order to meet one’s obligations, but also a fundamental link with ‘home’ as people meet such obligations across the diaspora. The weight of the obligation is highly significant; it was estimated in 1998 that US$39.53 million was returned to

41 Samoa in the form of remittances alone (Cutherson 1999 cited in Huffer and

So'o 2000). This is only just short of the US$49 million that comes to Samoa in the form of international aid (Crocombe 2001). Furthermore it is widely acknowledged that a significant proportion of the remittances that are received are ‘informal’, meaning that they cannot be counted in any formal estimates.

As a consequence it is likely that income from remittances does, in fact, exceed that from international aid. Remittance flows such as these are indicative of strong ties to the homeland and transnational links across communities.

Connell notes, ‘their use reinforces a traditional set of values’, traditional values such as meeting fa’alavelave. Moreover he acknowledges that such exchanges may play a part in reinforcing traditional social norms, which will, in turn, assist in halting the type of cultural erosion that is feared in the face of dramatic rates of emigration (2002: 79).

Fa’alavelave itself is part of an ancient belief system, one that began to evolve with Samoan settlement around 1000 BC (Va'a 2001), and is known as fa’aSamoa or ‘the Samoan Way’. Kallen defines fa’aSamoa as a

Total phenomenon [that is] at once a world view; a way of life; a cherished

heritage; a set of structural principles for ordering social life; a plethora of

formidable constraints upon behaviour; and an ideological underpinning for

strongly positive ethnocultural identification (1982: 35).

Fa’aSamoa is a traditional governance system, the language, customs and social structure of which was well established by the eighteenth century (Pitt and

Macpherson 1974). All crucial aspects of Samoan life, such as fa’amatai, or

“The Way of the Chiefs” (being that aspect of fa’aSamoa that holds particular

42 responsibility for Samoan polity), ‘aiga or kin-group, tautua meaning to provide service, fa’alavelave or obligations, alofa meaning love and fa’aaloalo or respect are contained within fa’aSamoa (Sa'iliemanu 2009). In other words, it provides the framework, the rules, for life. Moreover, it is claimed to be the system that still oversees all aspects of modern Samoan life: social, economic and political (Lati 2000).

Tautua is fundamental to a member’s rights and responsibilities to other ‘aiga

(family) or nu’u (village) members. In order for a member to claim their incontrovertible right to communal property they must first contribute goods and service (Pitt and Macpherson 1974). This sense of tautua, that is ‘the belief in the importance of service’ is shared by diasporic and Island community members alike (Macpherson 1999: 53). It is often the driving force behind the original migration – whereas once young people would have provided ‘service’ to ‘aiga by working the plantation, now they can fulfil their tautua requirements through migration and the opportunities it provides for family.

This point was stressed by Macpherson when discussing the 'primary purpose' behind migration (1994). He concluded that its primary aim was to assist family, ‘aiga, with personal interest being of secondary importance. He continues, explaining that this is not contrary to what would be culturally expected and that migration is not a ‘true option’ in this context; these people, mostly young and single, were chosen by their family to provide this service

"tautua". In this way, to use his words, ’it is no more or less‘ than what would be expected back in Samoa (Macpherson 1994: 89). That is to say, that they are expected to serve their family no matter where they are, whether they are

43 in Samoa or in a diasporic community. Samoans across the diaspora still express their migration in terms of tautua, either to family in their current place of residence or to those in Samoa. Indeed, despite totally different living arrangements, the most obvious of which is living in individual suburban houses as opposed to a village setting, ‘aiga remains the basic unit of the social organisation within the migrant community. ‘Aiga encapsulates migrant identity, facilitates a wide range of overt functions, such as raising money, providing houses and employment, coping with the crises of life, and it gives its members the security of living in a ‘traditional’, secure, well-loved group

(Pitt and Macpherson 1974). This is not to claim that either the form or function of ‘aiga has not changed, obviously it, as with all cultural practice, has needed to in order to ‘fit’ and maintain relevance. This caveat aside, however, the point is that commitment to the traditional institution of ‘aiga remains one of the major motivations behind migration. Furthermore, its replication across the diaspora is also one of the key reasons Samoans have been able to establish such successful diasporic communities and, ultimately, why these communities flourish.

The links that Samoans maintain across a diasporic network are not unlike those that are sustained by other Pacific Islanders. Tongans living overseas, for example, also maintain ‘economic, social, political and emotional ties’ with the island of Tonga (Lee 2004: 235). Further, Tonga, like Samoa, is economically dependent on remittances from overseas. Moreover, the issue of whether ‘second generation’ Tongans will maintain ties to the homeland and, in particular, whether their attachment will move beyond ‘the emotional’ and

44 include continuing practical support like sending of remittances is not unlike the concerns held by Samoans in the diaspora. According to Lee this complacency amongst young Tongans in the diaspora may ultimately threaten the economic future of Tonga (2004). Similarly, Samoans are concerned with the high level of remittance dependency not only by Samoans in Samoa but also that of the country of Samoa as a whole.

Those who drive the globalisation agenda do not care about the particular welfare of small Pacific Island countries, and as Firth puts it, ‘comparative advantage is everything, and if a country doesn’t have many comparative advantages, that’s bad luck’ (2000: 191). This is Samoa’s comparative advantage; Samoans have been able to engage successfully in the world economy in unique ways while retaining faithful links to traditional practices.

Cultural practices based in tradition have provided the framework for their engagement, enabling the comparative advantage that Samoa needs in order to ensure a sustainable future in the contemporary world. If this framework is endangered and the reciprocal system eroded, as is suggested in the previous discussion about second generation Tongans and Samoans, then this comparative advantage could be lost.

2.3.4 Samoanness beyond Samoa

Life in the diaspora is not always easy however. While Samoans appear to adapt well in the there are many compromises to be made in order to fulfil their desires. When addressing issues of hardship they speak of many

‘practical items’ like the cold weather and getting from place to place, but they

45 also speak of more emotive barriers – such as living in a suburban setting with isolated homes rather than in a village where everyone is known to each other.

Here also in the diaspora there are many new ‘rules of engagement’. This is particularly the case for those who have migrated as adults. For those born in, or who arrived young to the diaspora, there are other battles. A prevailing issue for many is “bridging two worlds”, that is the life at home where they are likely being brought up, at least in part, as Samoan and the one they interact with everyday as a member of the new community. For the most part their success is relative also. Although this is changing with better education, most

Samoans still work in unskilled jobs and rarely move beyond a largely economically disadvantaged niche in the adopted societies (Franklin 2003).

Ironically it is not always the jobs that people occupy that prevent them from rising out of this comparatively disadvantaged position; it is also their continued participation in fa’aSamoa. As discussed, in order to participate in this new economy, migrants have taken advantage of the support and security that is afforded them through fa’aSamoa to create a meta-Samoan society across the Pacific Rim. By staying true to traditional cultural practices, such as fa’alavelave however, people are limited in their individual economic potential.

By continuing to serve family where they now live and in Samoa and, moreover, their new extended ‘family’ here in the diasporai they continue to recognise a collective system that has supremacy over individualism, which is more closely associated with capitalism and self advancement. Samoans in the diaspora now speak freely about this choice. They discuss the tension between using funds to better the education of their children or to buy a home verses

46 the contribution that it takes to stay integrated in the Samoan community.

Young people in particular cannot see the benefits of staying obligated to a system that has, as far as many of them can see, not yet directly served them in return. While these issues are cause for concern, most Samoans living in the diaspora, however, remain loyal to a ‘homeland’ of Samoa, their Samoan identity and fa’aSamoa.

Indeed, such separation of “nation” and “state” is very significant for many

Polynesian populations. Lee (2004: 4), for example, stresses that ‘given the extensive network of ties between Tongans at home and abroad, the 'state' may remain the geographically bounded country of Tonga, but the 'nation' can be seen as all Tongan people, including those living overseas.’ This phenomenon is referred to in the transnational literature as ‘deterritorialising the nation-state’ or, in the case where those outside of their homeland influence matters of state from beyond the borders, ‘de-territorialised nation- state building’ where immigrants continue to be considered as ‘loyal citizens of their ancestral nation-state’ (Basch et al 1994:3).

In the same way as Lee’s Tongans, the lives of Samoa’s emigrants are entrenched in the diaspora. Unlike the diasporic populations of the nineteenth century, however, when bonds with ‘home’ were most often ‘imaginings’, recent advances in communication networks and the reduced cost and increased speed of travel, means that the capacity to sustain transnational communities is greatly enhanced (Scholte 2005: 237). Many second generation, or recently migrated Samoans in particular, depend on the Internet to stay in touch with their peers, not just in Samoa but also across the

47 diaspora. This reality support Harvey’s (1995: 3) suggestion of a

‘dematerialization of space’ as a result of an often considered positive side of globalisation, the so called ‘information revolution’. Many Pacific Islanders take advantage of cheaper travel to visit their island home more often or, alternatively, to bring relatives across the seas to visit them. Similarly websites that have been specifically set up to keep people in touch across the diaspora are also increasing in popularity as a forum for global discussions around issues of culture and identity. Such sites have been described as enabling an emotional and symbolic 're-turn' home, functioning as a 'cyber homeland'

(Ka'ili, 2003 cited in Lee 2004: 21). In so doing they assist the formation of nations beyond states.

Despite the still oft expressed dream of returning to Samoa, the reality is that it is becoming less of an option. People have grown accustomed to the life choices and benefits that living overseas offers them, their children and their family back in Samoa. Despite openly expressing how much they miss family back on the island, emigrants know they cannot hope to return ‘home’ soon.

They have generally supported numerous relatives to establish themselves in the diaspora and likely they send money back to Samoa for school fees and to help in times of fa’alavelave. They are part of a system that is committed to ‘aiga and on which Samoa as a whole is directly dependent socially and economically. In other words, their role in this system is well established. Most significantly it is a system that is sustained because of the strength of the links that are maintained across the globe. Very real tensions, however, do exist.

There is no doubt that Samoans across the diaspora are closely linked.

48 Connections are physically sustained by travel, phone and internet/email.

Samoans are also connected via their ‘borderless’ sense of Samoanness and, above all else, their commitment to fa’aSamoa. They may hold citizenship of one or more countries - most likely at least Samoan and the country in which they reside - but it is not this citizenship that defines them. Citizenship, for the most part, isn’t an issue except in two instances. First, it is important for people to gain citizenship of the country to which they have migrated.

Citizenship is desired so that they can access opportunities this new country can offer them and their ‘aiga, opportunities such as employment, education, health care and state benefits. People are generally very open about expressing their gratitude for being ‘adopted’ by their new place of residence. Secondly, people wish to maintain their citizenship of Samoa. For most this has both a practical side and a less tangible aspect to it. While grateful for their new citizenship and the benefits it brings it does not define them. It is not a national affiliation that lends a sense of being to their everyday lives. At the same time they are proud ‘to be a Kiwi, an Aussie or an American’; they readily express pride in being able to call themselves members of these nations. However, their sense of what defines them goes back to their culture, they are “100 per cent Samoan”. Obviously there is an inherent tension in being “100 per cent” of one thing and yet also claiming to be ‘other’. Thus, it is not always simple to express this phenomenon. And while it is not uncommon, particular for first generation Samoan migrants, to express comfort living with their own sense of

‘multiple identity’ it is, nevertheless, clearly important. Identity is at the core of what binds diasporic communities together. It is how people understand and

49 affirm self in community, and is as such both ‘a prime motivation for, and a major preoccupation of, social interaction’ (Scholte 2005: 147) Choosing to belong, or conversely not to belong, to a Samoan community is what defines most Samoans’ sense of identity. When asked what it means to be Samoan, the great majority of Samoans, no matter where they live across the globe, express their sense of ‘Samoanness’ by identifying with their culture. While second generation youth, who are often deeply immersed in questions of identity, may not immediately mention fa’aSamoa they will generally mention aspects of the culture that bind them such as respect for their elders, being able to (or not able to) speak the language (particularly in formal Samoan settings), going to church or youth group, participating in fa’alavelave, or dance and music – two pivotal vectors of identity for many diasporic Samoan youth.

The desire to belong, to identify with your heritage and culture is of increasing importance for many Samoans. This makes complete sense in the context of ever increasing numbers of Samoans living in the diaspora. Identity is no more an issue for those Samoans still living on the island on which they were born – they are Samoan. For those who live off the island, however, and in particular, for those who were not born in Samoa, identity cannot be naturally assumed; it is to be constructed as a reflection of the place in which they live and the community to which they relate. This being the case it will most often echo a multitude of layers, Christian-Samoan, Samoan-Kiwi, Pacific

Islander/Samoan, for example. A good example of an emerging practice that directly reflects this desire to clarify and publicise one’s belonging, and, in so doing reinforce a sense of identity, is an upsurge in interest for having pe’a

50 (traditional male tattoo) amongst male Samoan members of transnational communities. It is common now to hear stories that typify this search for identity, credibility, belonging or the respect that is associated with a deepen association with fa’aSamoa. Generally speaking even those who did not grow up within a strict cultural framework still learnt that ‘being Samoan’ was something to be proud of.

The pe’a is an intricate tattoo that goes from just above the knee to the waist all around the torso; getting one is not easy. The traditional tattooists who do the pe’a are highly skilled artisans who hold high status in the community. There are few who live outside of Samoa so the logistical arrangements are often difficult. It is expensive, costing 10 – 20,000 AUD.

Please see print copy for image

Figure 5: Samoan winger, Lome Fa’atua’s pe’a during the World Cup in Australia, 2003 (Source: Samoa Online http://www.wsamoa.ws/index.php?m=52)

The process is painful and one that can take weeks to complete with different parts of the tatau (tattoo) being performed over successive days. Lome Fa’atua

51 (pictured above) claims that getting a pe’a is “a way for young Samoan men to honour their heritage and show respect for their culture.” (Samoa Online).

Similarly, for those I spoke to during my study it increased their sense of obligation to the Samoan community, gave them a means to demonstrate their respect and made them feel more ‘legitimate’; the latter being of particular importance if they wished to reestablish or strengthen links with their family and village back in Samoa.

2.3.5 Costs and Benefits

Albert Wendt, in an early collection (1974: 74), tells the tale of a young man,

Peilua, returning to his homeland of Samoa after being educated overseas.

Peilua receives a hero’s welcome by his family and village alike; his new status helped considerably by the ‘massive and expensive suitcase’, full of Western goods and clothing, he brings with him (73). Sadly, Peilua's prestige meets a rapid demise when the gifts he has been distributing from the suitcase come to an end, the suitcase mysteriously disappearing. His fall from grace is dramatic and he experiences a brutal rejection by the village.

For many Samoans, Wendt’s story epitomises their migration journey. They leave their homeland, adapt to a foreign land, take advantage of new opportunities afforded them and, ultimately, find themselves wedged between two worlds. The more traditional path offers security and the protection of a collective society. The other promises rewards for individual achievement, but the security is low, the risks are many. The great majority of Samoans choose to straddle these two worlds – attempting to take advantage of what the ‘new’

52 world, the neo-liberal world, has to offer, while remaining loyal to tradition and the homeland. But this journey is not an easy one. Ironically, in filling a market niche, by selling labour across a diaspora, they chance all that has made the passage possible.

Samoa’s engagement in the globalised world, no matter how seemingly successful to date, is not without risks. Continued engagement is dependent on market opportunities and favourable migration policies of labour importing countries. Moreover, the lives of Samoa’s emigrants are now entrenched in the diaspora. While many people still hold tight to a dream of returning to Samoa, the reality is that this is becoming less of an option. People have grown accustomed to the life choices and benefits that living overseas offers them, their children and their family back in Samoa. They are part of a system that is committed to ‘aiga and on which Samoa as a whole is directly dependent socially and economically. Their role in this system is well established.

Globally they are considered ‘labour migrants’ and the remittances they send home form part of the estimated $65 billion per annum that is returned to labour exporting countries (Kane 1995). Opportunities to participate in the global labour market have boosted per capita GNP and, as a result, assisted development in Samoa. Community services and opportunities, like access to health services and education, have broadened significantly. There are costs however, like changing consumption patterns. When people favour imported food over local produce for example this threatens to further undermine local market opportunities. Moreover, there are ‘long-term social and cultural implications’ which need to be balanced against the benefits (Binayak 2003: 6).

53 There is also a strong argument that emigration hinders development because of “brain drain” and skill export (Ahlburg and Levin, 1990 cited in Connell

2003). There are pressing issues concerning the effects of modernity on

Samoan society. Social disturbances associated with alcohol for example, a rise in petty crime and ‘unrest’ amongst youth are topical issues of real concern. A rise in youth suicide in Samoa was attributed to a reduction in the prospects of migration in the 1980s (MacPherson and MacPherson 1987 cited in Connell

2003). Youth suicide remains a significant concern today. More than ever, young people in Samoa are finding it hard to balance the demands of their obligations to a traditional, strongly authoritarian society with the expectations they have following participation in a Western-biased education system and exposure to so many Western ideals – various of which are in conflict with traditional expectations.

In her 1996 novel, “where we once belonged”, Sia Figiel offered comment on many of these issues:

Suicide – it is the only way. For isn’t that what we’re slowly doing anyway?

Each time a child cries for Coca-Cola instead of coconut juice… Each time we

prefer apples to mangoes…. Drowning our children with each mushroom cloud,

Love Boat, Fantasy Island …Rambo… (1996: 234)

Her work speaks to the tension between the traditional agrarian-based life that was once typical in Samoa and the now more characteristic race toward modernity. Once silenced, today such matters are openly discussed by

Samoans across the diaspora and are the subject of commentary in the press.

In the Samoan Observer for example, previously taboo issues, like youth suicide

54 (Malifa 2005) and the abuse of traditional systems are openly debated (Lesa

2004). There are other concerns too, such as a degree of dependence on remittances that can result in the neglect of productive land or a reluctance to seek paid employment. Some Samoans living overseas are hesitant to return for visits as often as they would like to, fearing what they perceive to be the greediness that will await them when they do. Various opt instead to visit less often or to send gifts over when others are visiting only. When they do return some are staying in hotels so as to avoid the demands that will be placed on them when they stay in the village. In some ways this could be thought of as

‘the darker side of tradition’, at the very least it is a good indicator of systematic tension, as it now exist.

These changes, tensions and debates are to be expected given the powerful influences that are being experienced by Samoa and Samoans everywhere.

Moreover there is no sign of out migration from small Pacific Island countries easing on the whole. On the contrary, many predict that the trend will intensify (Firth 2005). If this is to be the case then it is reasonable to predict that the spread and speed of social transformation associated with out migration will also intensify.

2.3.6 A Sustainable Future?

Samoans have demonstrated an obdurate capacity to confront forces of transformation and make strategic adaptations. In their effort to negotiate the global economy they have created a meta-Samoa with links across a well- established diaspora. Their competitive edge is founded on two key aspects of

55 Samoan life. Firstly, Samoans are not bounded physically, socially or spiritually by the landmass of Samoa. Since the settlement of Samoa, mobility has been acculturated; people are free to take advantage of labour market opportunities ‘off-shore’ while at the same time reinforcing their culture through the creation of vibrant Samoan diasporic communities. Secondly,

Samoans abroad remain true to one of the key tenets of fa’aSamoa, that is, that the welfare of the collective is paramount and primary to that of the individual.

By participating in Samoan life across the diaspora, Samoans reinforce their relationship and fulfil their obligations and commitment to extended family and village. At the same time, they are reproducing the social relations that ensure the reproduction of fa’aSamoa. By doing both, they are demonstrating their comparative advantage in a neo-liberal world. This tactic, however, is not without risks. From the ‘outside’ such a strategy depends on positive market forces and friendly migration policies. From the ‘inside’ it relies on an on-going ability to balance a dialectic relationship between individualism associated with participating in a neo-liberalised world and the collectivism of fa’aSamoa.

It depends on the ability of Samoans to face challenges with strategic foresight.

Only then will they continue to step forward towards a sustainable future, effectively sidestepping the pitfalls of Peilua and the villages in Wendt’s early story. This then is the essence of this thesis, to ask the question, “Is this a sustainable future?”

56 CHAPTER 3: SOJOURNS, CIRCULATION, SETTLEMENT

Everywhere they go, to Australia, New Zealand, , mainland USA,

Canada and even , they strike roots in new resource areas, securing

employment and overseas family property, expanding kinship networks through

which they circulate themselves, their relatives, their material goods, and their

stories all across their ocean. The resources of Samoans, Cook Islanders,

Nuieans, Tokelauans, Tuvuluans, Kirribatis, , Indo-Fijians and Tongans,

are no longer confined to their national boundaries; they are located wherever

these people are living permanently or otherwise (Hau'ofa 1993, 155-156)

The previous chapter concentrated on the context of Samoan out migration. It first looked at globalisation in general and then, more specifically, the impact of globalisation in the Pacific. Next Samoa’s response to the opportunities and challenges was studied. In this way, a contemporary phenomenon was framed with historical and cultural perspective. Finally, present-day Samoan life, both island and diasporic, was detailed. The chapter closed by asking the question

(is this), “A Sustainable Future?” In so doing it hinted at the degree of cultural and social complexity that is now faced by Samoans. Similarly, this chapter first ‘steps back’ by looking at migration in general and then moves on to critique a number of models – labour and circulatory migration and transnationalism in particular. It then moves onto applying the transnational model of migration by looking specifically at how Samoan communities have established and sustained themselves in the diaspora. As part of this process the importance of remittances as an ‘operationalising agent’ is critiqued.

Finally, like the previous chapter, it ends with a question (is this) “An

57 Ominous Future?” - a question that once more hints at the challenges confronting Samoa and Samoans everywhere.

3.1 Mapping Migration

Periods of migration can be loosely divided in three eras. The first phase was the ‘Age of Indenture’ from 1830 – 1940 where, typically, labour flowed between the colonial territories. Secondly, came the period of ‘Guest Workers’ from 1940 – 1970, when governments sponsored guest workers in response to labour shortages in ‘settler societies’. Lastly, we have the contemporary phase, the period of ‘Contract Labour’ from 1970 onwards involving large-scale commercial movement of labour. This last stage in particular has resulted in unprecedented numbers of people moving across the globe, not only the labour migrants themselves but also their families due to both chain migration and family reunion programs (Goss and Linquist 2000: 388 - 399). Still, today, labour migration rates are rising across the globe with over four million people emigrating every year in search of better economic and social opportunities

(The World Bank 2006). A degree of this increase can of course be attributed to technological advances, resulting in cheaper, faster and easier travel for the individual. Beyond this however migration may be in response to external transformations. Such factors may include changes in the global economy as a result of neoliberal economic policies, and can, in turn, be the precursor to considerable national or regional transformations. Indeed, population mobility is one of the major forces behind recent unprecedented economic, demographic, political and social transformations in the Asia-Pacific region

(Castles 1998). Similarly, the impact of globalised economic policies has had a

58 profound affect on the Pacific region. Small island states, such as those in

Oceania, share challenges in their efforts to engage in a global market economy. In addition to the frequent devastating effects of natural disasters such as cyclones, their size and location present real barriers. The cost of transporting goods to and from islands, high utility costs and minimal market size, on top of geographical and often political isolation, are some of the key factors that need to be considered. Further, prospects for economic growth are generally limited. There is more often than not intensified pressure on land and sea resources as populations grow, making ‘the imbalance between population and resources’ a serious problem confronting much of the region (McMurray and Muagututia 2003: 40). Finally, except for a limited number of exceptions post-independence economic growth has been disappointing. Binayak concurs stating that, not withstanding ‘some positive political and economic achievements’ and despite large amounts of development aid, the sense is widespread that ‘the small island states of the South Pacific have fallen well short of their expectations’ (Binayak 2003: vii) The result has been attempts by institutions such as the World Bank and ADB to impose structural adjustment programs in many countries across the region (Connell 2005).

59 GNP per capital US$ Patron economy Political status

America Samoa 8,000 USA Integrated

Cook Islands 5,000 New Zealand Associated

Fiji 7,300 Australia Independent

French Polynesia 10,800 Integrated

Guam 21,000 USA Integrated

Hawaii 34,312 USA Integrated

Kiribati 850 Australia Independent

Marshall Is 1,670 USA Associated

Micronesia, FSM 2,000 USA Associated

New Caledonia 15,000 France Integrated

Niue 2,800 New Zealand Associated

Nauru 5,000 Australia Independent

Papua 2,500 Australia Independent

Samoa 3,200 New Zealand Independent

Solomon Is 2,000 Australia Independent

Tokelau 1,000 New Zealand Integrated

Tonga 2,200 New Zealand Independent

Tuvalu 1,100 Australia Independent

Vanuatu 1,300 Independent

Wallis and Futuna 2,000 France Integrated

Figure 6: GDP Per Capita Variance across the Pacific Island Countries, c 1999 (Adapted from World Bank, 2006)

60 Despite their common vulnerability the economic fortunes of Pacific islands economies vary greatly across the region. Figure 6 demonstrates this considerable variation, with average GDP ranging from US$1,229 for independent states, to US$2,187 for those in free association with a major

Pacific Rim country, through to much higher average GDP, US$22,615, for those that are fully politically integrated with either France or the United

States.

At Home In Australia In New Zealand In USA

Birthplace^ Ancestry^ Birthplace Ethnicity Race

Samoans 170,900 (2001) 13,254 28,090 47,118 115,017 -

Polynesians 885,400 27,195 125,390 602,150 762,498 180,000

American Samoan 51,000 (2000) 152 - 399 - 132281*

Figure 7: Population Figures (Adapted from Connell, 2005)

^ Where ‘birthplace’ represents the physical country of birth Vs ‘ancestry’, which represents someone born outside of the country they currently reside in but who has identified themselves culturally by their ancestry * All Samoans ie no differentiation between American and Independent Samoans

The degree of political integration is the key definable difference between these scenarios and while the Word Bank goes on to acknowledge that complete political integration is not feasible across all countries. Nevertheless, it does call for more complete economic integration, particularly labour market integration, as a solution worth exploring in order to address the inequities across the region. They go on to exemplify this argument by highlighting the growth of two Pacific island countries, Samoa and Cook Islands, and

61 Mauritius; determining labour immigration as the common link in this groups’ relative economic success (The World Bank 2006: 7). In this context, where many ‘conventional’ strategies are considered to have ‘achieved limited success’, migration and associated remittances is considered an alternate development strategy (Connell 2005). In consequence the lives of Pacific

Islanders, particularly Polynesians, are increasingly entrenched in the global economy.

There are four migration trends in the Pacific Islands: away from small remote islands; from mountains to accessible coastal land; from villages to urban centres and overseas in search of offshore opportunities (Connell 1990).

Pacific people have been journeying the surrounding Pacific Rim islands for thousands of years. Samoans, in particular, are reputed great travellers, searching for adventure and opportunity. In the last 50 years, particularly since the 1970s, their flows have extended to the edge of the Pacific and beyond. Vibrant communities of Samoan people first established in cities such as Auckland, Honolulu, Los Angeles and Sydney. Once rooted in each of these places doors were opened for others to follow; linkages and networks formed, strengthened and perpetrated over time. As Figure 7 demonstrates Samoans are particularly well established in New Zealand, Australia and the USA. The total population of Samoans in Australia and New Zealand alone in 2001 (by birthplace and ancestry) was 203,479, which is significantly higher than the

170,900 Samoans living in Samoa at the same time. Moreover the percentage of Samoans by ancestry in Australia, at 67 per cent, is much greater than by birthplace, with the percentage by ethnicity in New Zealand over birthplace

62 being even greater at 71 per cent. These figures demonstrate the generational nature of the populations and suggest a strength of identity amongst ‘second- generation born’ throughout the diaspora.

The establishment of Polynesian communities across the Pacific Rim countries has lead some to theorise ‘A New Polynesian Triangle’ which extends beyond the conventional Polynesian Triangle5 to include the Pacific Island communities in New Zealand, Australia and the USA as well as the movement of people within the Pacific and is based on the family unit (post-national) rather than the nation state (Borovnik 2006).

3.2 Creating Transnational Community

A particular population or community is transnational when there are significant links, or

networks, between members in a place of origin and in various places of residence, however

distant, that comprise the diaspora. (Spoonley, Bedford et al. 2003: 28)

Literally spaning several nations, Samoan communities of today defy nation state boundaries. Not unlike other contemporary diasporic populations

Samoans are seen as ‘maintaining familial, economic, political, and cultural ties across international borders’ (Foner, 1997: 355) As Ward (1997: 3) suggested, it makes no sense any more to talk of a ‘Samoan Society’ or a ‘Samoan economy’ that accords with the nation state of Samoa. Hayes (1991: 22) agrees arguing that Polynesian diasporic communities ‘bring into question the applicability of the nation-state concept to socio-economic analysis in the context of large scale international migration’. Importantly also is a stress on

5 The Pacific Islands are conventionally divided into three population regions: , and Polynesia. The Polynesian triangle has been so termed because the countries included, when grouped together within the surrounding , roughly forms the shape of a triangle (Refer map in Chapter 1, Figure 1.1).

63 ‘nature and content of linkages between communities’ (Spoonley, Bedford et al. 2003: 28) In other words, it is necessary to accentuate the interactions and communications throughout the diaspora not just the physical locations that people reside in; a population is not transnational regardless of how dispersed they are unless they maintain strong linkages. Equally vital is the need to acknowledge those who stay as of equal importance as those who go. In other words the diaspora includes the homeland, it is not something that is divorced from it, something that is “beyond home”, it is home. In acknowledging this we recognise that those who remain in the ‘homeland’ are transnational too. To this end it has been argued that there is ‘transnationalism without migration’

(Connell 2006). That is, people who have never left home are transnational in their knowledge, thinking and interests. The Samoan diaspora is so well established that a sense of ‘Samoa beyond Samoa’ prevails. By this definition then Samoan communities are clearly transnational.

Transnationalism refers to the processes by which immigrants create and sustain a multitude of social, economic, and political relations that link together their societies of origin and settlement. It is argued that those who maintain transnational ties organise their daily economic, familial, religious, and social relations within a network that extends across the borders of multiple nation-states (Basch, Schiller et al. 1994: 7). Paradoxically

‘transnational’, which essentially implies a temporal and spatial expansion, has been framed here in a limited fashion. Rather, I would argue the case for interpreting the prefix ‘trans’ in its expansive form. That is, we must think about transnationalism as transcending the nation state, not just linking one or

64 more states. In reference to the Samoan diaspora transnationalism is a useful term, but only if it represents much more than just ‘linking’ nation states. It is about creating a space that is ‘other’ than nation state, about creating a feeling of being anchored that is not dependent on either State or nationalism. Maiava

(2002) expresses it thus: ‘Pacific Islanders have grasped the idea of developing a people, irrespective of location, rather than developing a country. They have separated nation from state in an unprecedented way’.

Samoans, as argued extensively in the previous chapter, are not solely united by a commitment to the ‘nation’ of Samoa, but rather to their culture, fa’aSamoa. In making this claim I am not meaning to dismiss the sense of pride or connection that a great number of Samoans feel for their ‘Island home’. This is particularly true for many first generation immigrants – to them the nation of Samoa still holds a significance that comes from being born in a country.

Conversely many second generation Samoans have no such literal connection.

Subsequently, what Macpherson refers to as ‘new identity positions’ have begun to emerge such that in New Zealand there is now reference to the fa’a

Aukilini (Auckland) or fa’a Niu Sila (New Zealand) as a variant on fa’aSamoa

(1997: 93). If diasporic-born youth have a tangible connection it is likely shaped by the combined teachings of their parents, religious and cultural leaders. Increasingly also, second generation Samoans are being influenced by their cyber-space peers, where chat rooms are a popular forum for discussing issues of growing up ‘second generation’ and identity in general:

You know you're Samoan when......

There is an accident and you are the only one laughing.

65 Your Mother says that at 25, you're too young to have a boyfriend.

You ask for a dust-pan and you get handed a magazine or a newspaper.

You run into Grandma at the Shopping Centre wearing one white and one red sock...with sandals.

Being whacked with a leather belt is considered discipline not child abuse...... (tell me about it!)

You run into a mountain of shoes blocking the front door to the house.

You've always been given a spanking with a rubber sandal but had to go fetch it first.

You ask for some gel to put in your hair before you go out and your Mum throws you a bottle of Baby Oil instead.

You can sprint barefoot on sharp stones and rocks.

You have an Aunty with a fully grown moustache.

You go to an Island Social and the band members are wearing dark shades even though it's late in the evening.

You call a computer - gomputa, Coke- Goke and drugs - trucks. > >*

You have sat in a 4-seater car with up to 8 other people.

All cereals are called 'Gorn Flakes'

You're getting spanked and your parents ask, "What are you crying for?"

You've had your hair pulled by your Mother in front of schoolmates at the Supermarket

You think you're a pro at

You have a huge banquet on Sunday and live on cocoa-rice for the rest of the week...

You bring your palagi friends over to watch "FRIENDS" and just as it starts, your Mum turns the TV off and says, "time for da family prayer.."

You've had an afro at some stage in your liffe (boys AND gurls) and thought you looked cool.

You almost drown at the beach and when the lifeguards return you to your parents, they kindly thank them, then wait till they've left before they both give you a spanking...

You go to the islands rich and come back poor...

66 You have a big velvet picture of The Last Supper in your living room

A relation of yours drives a taxi

You almost have grand-kids but your parents are still "da boss of you!"

And the last but not least

You know the difference between all the different types of corned beef or pisupo!!

Posted by Lia, 07/11/2006 http://www.thepacific.co.nz/samoa/

Transnational connections founded on the strength of Internet relationships are likely to increase in importance as time progresses. This has particular pertinence for nurturing and sustaining the type of understanding and connections that may lead to second-generation youth contributing in-kind and financial support back to their parent’s country of origin. Lee (2004) stresses this point in relation to second generation Tongans living in the diaspora; the point is of equal relevance to Samoans.

Prominent Samoan contemporaries such as musicians, DJs, singers or rugby stars all have influence to bear as well. King Kapisi (aka Bill Urale) for example, a popular New Zealand-born Samoan hip-hop artist encourages

Polynesian youth ‘to know their Pacific Roots’ (Zemke-White 2004: 221), through lyrics such as:

It’s just my instincts coming back from the brink

Revitalise the knowledge that we lost

Culture ebbing been lost in the ignorance

From the ma to the pa to the child

Wonder why your child is running round real wild

Pass on the knowledge so the tongue leaves its cradle

Or take them back home to the motherland and teach

67 The way of the elders lifestyles and the speech

‘Screems from tha old plantation’, King Kapisi 2000

These influences combine to provide a sense of identity that is still today predominantly expressed as Samoan, despite having been born in another country. This sense of Samoanness then is gained from something that is beyond birth; it is created through the strength of community that is held together by culture, by fa’aSamoa. Fa’aSamoa is, in turn, founded on the practice of ‘reciprocity’, a practice that is theorised as quintessential to transnationalism; it is what distinguishes transnationalism from other migration theories (Nakhid 2006). Acknowledging the centrality of fa’aSamoa is important because it makes obvious the primacy of what I have termed culturalism over nationalism. Moreover it legitimates an acknowledgment of both spatial and temporal dimensions that transcend both nation and state.

It is this concept and indeed practice of transcending the nation that some scholars perceived as a ‘grave’ challenge to the supremacy of the State:

The more multifocal ties immigrants entertain, the greater their ambivalence

towards the receiving polity, the weaker the roots in the nation-state of

settlement, the stronger the incentives to form a transnational community, the

bolder the claim to a diaspora, the greater the tendency on the part of natives to

question the alliance of newcomers, and finally, the weaker the inclination of

immigrants to adapt to the immigration country (Faist 2003: 16).

There is most definitely a dynamism in Samoan culture and social organisation which at least in part can be attributed to their ‘constant movement … between communities of origin and migrant destinations’ (Macpherson 1997:

79). The social systems that people live within and move through are

68 multifaceted. Moreover, the complexity of these networks has increased as the nature of the diasporic population has changed. Samoans living in New

Zealand for example had achieved a level of independence from the island of

Samoa by the 1990s such that diasporic communities were demographically significant, politically and economically powerful and ‘emerging in their own rights as centres of cultural and communal life’ (Macpherson 1997 and 2001 cited in Spoonley, Bedford et al. 2003: 34). By necessity then resources are allocated across competing demands. It is not now uncommon for those across the diaspora to refer to the challenges of ‘multiple loyalties’; certainly people express a sense of being torn between an obligation and loyalty to community in their new place of residence and their ‘homeland’. This phenomenon is not confined to Pacific Islanders, as Davis points out in relation to Hispanic communities in the USA:

The new logic of social reproduction under conditions of global reconstruction,

compels traditional communities to strategically balance assets and population

between two different place-rooted existences. Economic and cultural umbilical

cords now permanently connect hundreds of Latin American and

localities with counterpart urban neighborhoods in the (Davis

1999: 27 cited in Spoonley, Bedford et al. 2003: 28)

Spoonley argues that the significance of conflicting loyalties – to the place where you live, the place and culture where you were born and to both the diasporic community in which you live and to emerging identities confirms an

‘increasing permeability of borders’ which further demonstrates challenges to the concept of state sovereignty that is built on a clear loyalty of its citizens

(2003: 4). Further, there are those who argue that dual state citizenship rights

69 reduce a sense of ‘nationality’ associated with holding a particular passport and citizenship is devalued as a result. This raises a number of interesting questions including whether citizenship is a valid indicator of identity for transnational communities and whether divided loyalties necessarily represent a challenge to the nation-state. One study participant expressed it thus:

For me it is simple, I was born in Samoa and brought up with fa’aSamoa [Samoan

culture], and even though I gladly live here in Australia now, and hold Australian

citizenship, in my heart I will always be, first and foremost, a Samoan. I no longer live in

Samoa, but I still belong to it – does that makes sense? Anyway, the same is not true for my

children. My daughter was born in Samoa, but her father is Kiwi, so she holds New Zealand

citizenship [as well as Samoan]. But now that we live in Australia she travels on an

Australian passport. She changes her mind all the time about ‘what' or ‘who’ she is. Well,

actually, she happily lives with all of these identities; as a Samoan-Kiwi-Aussie and it

doesn’t seem to cause her any grief. Some days she is Samoan, like … when we are at church

or when she is dancing, other times she is a Kiwi, especially when she visits with her cousins

in Wellington and she is always proud to be Australian! No, to answer your question, I don’t

think she has ‘divided loyalties’, and if she does, it isn’t a problem for her, and I don’t think

anyone has reason to be concerned by it. [Beth, 47, Brisbane, Australia]

What this story highlights is the way in which Samoans across the diaspora cope with multiple identities that have little, if not nothing to do with citizenship, nationalism or loyalties. Their sense of belonging is based on a multitude of factors not necessarily related to where they were born, where they have lived, or where they may now live. However, this view of multiple identities is not always easy to manage:

Yeh, sometimes I think it is really hard to be a Samoan living in America, particularly for

our younger people. For those of us that were born in Samoa it is easier – we might be angry

70 sometimes about the demands placed on us because of fa’aSamoa, like fa’alavelave all the

time – but at least we understand it and, you know, value it. But for those not born in

Samoa it isn’t so easy to juggle. My own children complain about me asking them for money

to send back home all the time. I mean, they are OK with it because I have brought them up

with fa’aSamoa and they have visited the island, but some people haven’t brought their kids

up speaking Samoan and knowing fa’aSamoa. So the kids don’t know. All they know is that

everyone is expecting something from them! (Alofa, 50, Tacoma, USA)

Without realising it Alofa is entering into the debate about the separation between ‘nation’ and ‘state’. What is not openly articulated in her message is that many second-generation American-born Samoans feel American, and by demonstrating their alliance to the USA either on the basketball field or during active duty in Iraq, they are enthusiastically supporting the nation state of

America. Regardless they are also expected to be loyal to the nation and hence culture of Samoa; a nation state to which they may only know through stories, or, at the most, from holidays. Feeling or demonstrating such loyalty can be difficult for them. They may get demands for assistance, often financial, from the church or their parents, while at the same time they want what others around them in their class or at work want – a MP3 player, motor cars or maybe a home of their own. They feel the pressure to help out ‘aiga (extended family) wherever they live and generally back in Samoa too. In other words they are trying to be loyal to everyone. Castles, like other scholars, delineates between the ‘nation’ as a cultural entity and the ‘state’ as a legal or political entity. He defines those who belong to a nation as ‘as community of people who believe that they have a common heritage and common destiny’. He argues that in a globalised world mass migration has such a significant

71 influence on the way notions of belonging are formulated that ‘nation’ and

‘state’ are no longer congruent and thus cannot offer ‘an adequate basis for societal belonging’ (1999: 43). In the case of Samoa, I would argue that the basis for ‘societal belonging’ across the diaspora, is largely today what it was long before Samoa was granted nation state status, that is fa’aSamoa.

3.3 Sustaining Transnational Community

If fa’aSamoa, as I have argued, is the foundation of the Samoan diaspora, the very strength upon which is was established and thrives, and reciprocity is in turn the basis of fa’aSamoa, what will happen if commitment to reciprocity breaks down? This question is at the forefront to many diasporic studies. In the case of the Samoan diaspora those at ‘home’ and those ‘away’ have enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship. On the basis of kinship those in the diaspora have supported the village, the customary keepers of ‘tradition’ while those in the village have taken care of island affairs – looked after land, titles and the like. The strength of each has been dependent on the other. This reciprocity based on fa’aSamoa or kinship, is the very essence of the Samoan transnationalism. There is evidence now, however, that this system is

‘breaking-down’. Those in the diaspora resent the demands from ‘home’, while those at ‘home’ are beginning to question why they are ‘struggling’ to keep the culture in light of such demonstrations of lost respect. These issues will be explored in this chapter and expanded upon in subsequent chapters. I have chosen here to demonstrate some of these issues by looking closely at one key vector of reciprocity, remittances.

72 3.3.1 The Migration Remittance Nexus

Islanders in their homelands are not the parasites on their relatives abroad that

misinterpreters of ‘remittances’ would have us believe. Economists do not take

account of the social centrality of the ancient practice of reciprocity. … They

overlook the fact that for everything homeland relatives receive they reciprocate

with goods they themselves produce, by maintaining ancestral roots and lands

for everyone. … This is not dependence but interdependence (Hau'ofa 1994).

Developing countries’ recorded remittances have surged worldwide – there has a 73 per cent increase recorded between 2001 and 2005 and totals are more than five times as large as in 1990 now standing at over US$ one hundred million per annum (Rohoru, Gibson et al. 2006). Sending remittances is obviously not unique to Samoa. Conversely, the nature of the linkages that result in remittance flow is. Cultural obligation, as discussed extensively in the previous chapter, is the bedrock upon which Samoan communities have built transnational community across the Pacific Rim. The decision to migrate is not usually taken alone, or even within a nuclear-family context as is more the norm in a western sense. Rather, it is likely to be negotiated within a wider kinship context, with the benefits to flow two ways. The emigrants will improve their living standard and have access to greater opportunities while the extended family remaining in Samoa will also gain. The most obvious gain will be from remittances. Beyond income received the opportunities of those who stay will also increase, opportunities such as to travel and access to goods and services previously financially, geographically or socially out of their reach. There is no doubt too that a family with good connections abroad will also experience an increase in status. This is particularly the case if they are

73 able to publicly demonstrate the financial support they are receiving from relatives abroad at church fundraisers or cultural activities such as fa’alavelave.

The determination that an individual or family group (as is increasingly common) to migrate is accordingly one that involves strategic decision making across the broader ‘aiga. This process has lead to what Bertram and Waters first coined as a ‘transnational corporation of kin’; the strategic placement of family labour either locally or overseas ‘to maximise income opportunities and minimise risk’ (1985). The drive to have at least one direct family member overseas is now fervent; the preferred option is to have at least one in each of the USA, Australia and New Zealand. The strategic nature of these decisions should not be underestimated. People fully understand the benefits that come from having reciprocal relationships established across the globe. They actively planned to have at least one of their children firstly educated and then established, preferably with citizenship status, living in a Pacific Rim country.

In this way opportunities can be opened up to the extended family. Small has discussed similar issues in reference to Tonga, going so far as to say ‘every family needs to have someone overseas. Otherwise the family is to be pitied’

(1997: 152).

Perhaps the most easily demonstrated commitment to the cultural practice of reciprocity is the flow of remittances between Samoans in the diaspora and those at ‘home’. Remittances, whether in cash or kind, are fundamental to the vibrancy of the Samoan diaspora and are justifiably considered to have

‘complex and important social and economic dimensions’ (Asian Development

Bank 2005: 5). Binayak highlights both positive and negative consequences of

74 remittances. On the positive side, the boost to per capita income is highly significant as is the positive effect on the balance of payment equation. He also highlights a gain in intellectual capital and family assets. Conversely he concludes that their has also been a change in consumption patterns so that people look to importing food, which not only has long-term affects on health but also reduces demand for locally grown products, a significant loss for an agrarian based culture (2003: 6).

Samoa and Samoans have been dependent on the flow of remittances for well over four decades. During the 1960s and 1970s the Samoan domestic economy became increasingly dominated by the rise in importance of overseas aid and emigrant remittances. Consequently Samoa was classified as a MIRAB society: where Migration leads to Remittances, and the other principal income source, Aid, has contributed to the establishment of government Bureaucracy

(Connell, 1995: 264). The MIRAB model was developed to explain the development path of small island states with migrant worker populations.

Significantly the MIRAB model recognises that the economy of a nation is not geographically bounded, but as including both a transnational and domestic component. This is an important shift away from previous development models that treated countries as isolated units within themselves (Schultz 2006). By the 1990s there was approximately 78,000 – a third of all Western Samoans - living overseas, mainly in the Pacific Rim (Connell, 1995: 266). In a quarter of a century mass migration had become of enormous social, economic and political importance. Today there more Samoans living in the diaspora than in

Samoa, representing what is described as a ‘mature migration-remittance

75 economy’ (The World Bank 2006: 51)

In an earlier piece of work Chapman and Prothero (Chapman and Prothero

1983: 610) attempt to explain post-1960 circulatory flows of people from developing countries by offering four linking themes: in response to modernity; in response to tensions between new opportunities and existing power hierarchies; increased family opportunities and a spread of capitalism with a resultant increase in a cash economy and associated decrease in a subsistence economy. Not dissimilarly, Shankman has summarised key economic and social trends that encourage Samoan immigration. After acknowledging ‘increasing monetisation and urbanization’ he first identifies population pressure, such that if out-migration did not exist to the degree it does the population would have increased six-fold. Secondly, an education system that is western based and so creates unattainable expectations such as an unrealistic desire for white-collar jobs as opposed to ‘hard, dirty and not financially rewarding’ agricultural work. The next is a gerontocracy system, where authority lies in the hands of the church leaders and matai and youth are expected to be ‘obedient and dutiful’. Further, individualism is not encouraged and the punishment is harsh. Fourthly, a stagnation of Samoa’s economy and, related to this, a perceived lack of opportunity particularly for youth. Concretising these impacts was the realisation that gainful employment overseas would not only be beneficial to the individual but also for the extended family through remittances (1993: 158 - 159).

We can see then that many of the ‘conventional’ drivers to contemporary migration in Samoa are not unlike those of neighbouring Asian and Pacific

76 Island countries: an increase in expectations vis-à-vis a better standard of living, satisfying employment and access to goods (shopping and entertainment) and services (health and education), accompanied by a corresponding decline in both desire and willingness to work in agriculture. In particular, glaring wage and social differences between the islands and those countries bordering the region play a fundamental role in determining population movements in Polynesia. The GNP per capita (PPP estimates

1999) for example for the patron economies of the USA, France, Australia and

New Zealand are sequentially US$36,200, US$24,400, US$23,200 and

US$17,700 (The World Bank 2006: 8), If we contrast these figures with the corresponding GNP per capita for each of the Pacific Island countries listed in

Figure 6 the gap between economies is well-illustrated. In summary, the gap between expectations and the reality of what is on offer has widened. In classic and simplistic terms there is the “push” of population pressure and rising expectations coupled with the “pull” of a promise of improved living standards

(Connell and McCall 1989: 2). In reality however, as the list above highlights, the scenario is not that straightforward.

The effects of culture should never be underestimated; whether abroad or in the village, the vast majority of Samoans remain, even today, committed to fa’aSamoa. Sending remittances is an important measure of this commitment.

By this means they assist villages to remain vibrant and self determined

(Fairbairn and Dunlop 1993: 340). Such ideology is one of the founding blocks behind the strength of the Samoan commitment to their ‘home-land’.

Interestingly then, in a Samoan context we witness a blend of both push and

77 pull factors; people move both for, and because of, kinship obligations. In this way they are reinforcing the ‘ … social centrality of the ancient practice of reciprocity …’ (Connell 2005). In a desire to improve ‘life opportunity’,

Samoans do emigrant in order to seek and secure waged employment.

However the expectations of family, and, in particular, a drive to provide

‘service’ as discussed previously, also plays a major part in their decision. Such expectations are based on perceived benefits, primarily the remittances that will be sent back home and the further opportunities that will be opened up to others in the extended family. Remittances are received in cash and in-kind.

In-kind contributions include such things as food, clothing, white goods, stereos, televisions, DVD players and these days even motor cars. Cash contributions are typically requested for community, cultural and church related activities, such as fulfilling fa’alavelave obligations, for building materials and education expenses for younger siblings. In brief, remittances are vital to everyday life in Samoa.

The discourse regarding the ‘appropriate’ use of remittances is well known. In essence the debate is centred on the utilisation of remittances for ‘consumption’ verses investment; the latter being seen as the more preferable, particularly amongst economists. Their concerns appear to focus on the possible affects of enhanced consumption on gross domestic savings and the associated detrimental consequences for private investment and economic development.

Prasad for example has argued “The strategy (or non-strategy) of depending on remittances provides crucial revenue and contributes to the balance of payments in small counties, but creates a consumption society, where

78 productive economic activities hardly exist.” (2003 cited in Asian

Development Bank 2005: 30). I would critique this view however in its narrow definition of ‘investment’. Investment here is used in the most conservative of terms as meaning economic investment in business. Whilst not denying the importance of private economic investment, it would be short-sighted not to also consider broader social investment in goods and services, for instance in education and housing. Moreover, as argued elsewhere, a great deal of resources has been invested in every individual that immigrates. This investment is done with the future returns in mind. More immediate returns are likely to include access to supplementary cash and goods via remittances.

People are conscious too, however, of the longer-term benefits to the family for example when a child is sent overseas for education. This is well illustrated by the following quote concerning out-migration from Ponam Island in Tuvalu:

Ponam is not a society passively allowing or suffering migration of its members.

Rather it is a society which actively regulates this migration, and it does so in a

way which helps secure a substantial remittance income [hence people say]

‘Children are our garden and we survive by eating the fruit’ (Carrier 1984 cited

in Asian Development Bank 2005: 31)

The most recent report into remittances in the Pacific has concluded that they are used first and foremost for debt repayment, often to repay the actual debts incurred in migrating. Secondly they are used for consumption, which includes food and goods such as outboard motors, new housing, savings and then airfares and education. ‘Community Use’ is a category that stand-alone as is ‘Social Uses’. Community use includes support for churches and ministers, women’s groups, schools and sporting clubs. By ‘social uses’ they mean what is

79 discussed extensively elsewhere as fa’alavelave as well as influencing other customary events such as supporting bids for matai titles and even seats in parliament. The report also concludes that:

Remittances are used for various forms of investment sometimes in agriculture

but more recently in the service sector especially for shops and transport

businesses (Asian Development Bank 2005: 33).

This summary on the use of remittances in the broader Pacific context is consistent with my research in Samoa. Certainly funds are sought for consumption goods such as food, but even here it is more often than not related to purchasing special food for fa’alavelave. There is no doubt either that goods are purchased with remittances – the evidence is ubiquitous. The number of papalagi style houses, as opposed to the customary open-sided fale, is perhaps the most visible evidence of this. In the last twenty years in particular the percentage of European style houses has grown exponentially.

Figure 8: Village setting showing the traditional fale in the foreground with the ever increasing in popularity papalagi-style house behind (Source: Author)

80 Goods (fridges, stoves, washing machines) and furniture for the houses, generators, fishing craft and, increasingly, vehicles are also popular items of consumption. Family overseas often pay airfares so that others may travel abroad and the payment of school fees, particularly for younger siblings, is viewed as a priority. There seems little evidence of direct cash saving in Samoa however and like Muliaina discovered this is most often attributed to the amount of cash that is contributed towards fa’alavelave (2001).

The amount of cash and goods that exchanges hands at such ‘life crisis’ events, such as a , funeral or matai bestowal can be staggering. Stories of amounts involving up to one hundred thousand AUD for a funeral or bestowal of great significance are not uncommon. I have heard also of an instance where thirty six thousand fine mats were at a funeral for a ‘relatively insignificant’ person. The burden this places on those in the diaspora and in the villages is discussed in detail elsewhere, but suffice to say that it is highly significant and is not now occurring without its critics and dissenters. As the following story, told to me by one interviewee, illustrates even a maliu (funeral) for a person outside of the ‘aiga potopoto (extended family) or nuu (village) in a neighbouring village will involve substantial negotiation and drain on resources if obligations are to be met.

81 Upon the death of the former Minister for Justice in the neighbouring nuu the matai and church leaders in the village of Luatuanou on Upolu entered into a series of negotiations to calculate the contribution that they would make at the funeral. These negotiations can be very time consuming and are not entered into lightly. Moreover once the contribution has been calculated who will be responsible for what will then be resolved. This particular fa’alavelave came at a bad time for Luatuanou because they were also fund raising to send a church choir on an overseas tour. Understandably they were very reluctant to part with any of the money that they had raised and they were equally exhausted and despondent at the thought of finding more resources within what is essentially a small pool. “Luckily” on this occasion they were able to call on family in , the capital of America Samoa, to met the majority of the obligation. They brought with them US$10,000 cash, 100 large fine mats (reportedly worth between 500 – 1,000 tala each), and ten cartons of turkey tails plus rolls of material. After the funeral the neighbouring village must acknowledge those who came and contributed and distribute goods back to them. For instance, on this occasion, the village of Luatuanou received in return AUD$5,000 cash, ten cartons of tinned herons and ten cartons of chickens. All this was then divided amongst the ‘aiga potopoto in the early hours of the morning after the funeral was over. Tupu, 45, Samoa

This burden is met, of course, on the basis of reciprocity. The village of

Luatuanou knows well that they will need the support of their neighbours in a similar fashion soon enough. Whether it is for a maliu, wedding or bestowal they will need to host a similar function; feeding all those who come and stay as guests in their village is only one part of what is a very resource intensive exercise. The discontent that is expressed on these occasions, particularly by those in the diaspora, is not generally with the nature of ‘reciprocity’ per se.

Some of course can no longer see the relevance of such a practice if they are living independent economically secure lives in the diaspora; they do not need such social support. Regardless of the level of acceptance, the amount of contribution that is now demanded and the frequency with which such fa’alavelave occur is the source of much concern and resentment. People are

82 actively looking to avoid, minimise or control their contributions. The payment of school fees directly to the institution rather than via the family so as to circumvent the money going elsewhere is a good example of this. In fact the desire to escape the burden is sometimes so intense that people exclude themselves from the Samoan community or, in extreme cases, migrate again.

There is strong anecdotal evidence, expanded upon later in the thesis, that the motivation behind many migrations from New Zealand to Australia is the desire to live in less ‘traditional’ communities so as to escape ‘service and obligation’. This is particularly true of those people who choose to live away from the major Samoan communities in Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane.

Similarly the amount of cash that is given to churches and pastors does not go without question anymore. Many children in the diaspora resent the constant demands of their parents for money ‘to pay the church or the minister’. Loso, when talking about her father, illustrates this point well:

I wouldn’t mind if he would use the money for himself, because he does need it – he is getting

old now and I think it would be nice if he and Mum had a comfortable mattress. But I go to

all the trouble of shipping one to the village, paying for the freight etc and then when I go and

visit at Christmas time I discover that the new mattress has made it to the minister’s house!

That made me so angry … Loso, 65, Tacoma, USA

Generally speaking however the evidence is now substantial that remittances have had ‘a deep and far-reaching impact’ on individual households and wider community; they are both significant in amount and effect on poverty alleviation (The World Bank 2006:11). The results of a recent household survey in Tonga show that 90 per cent of households receive remittances (The

83 World Bank 2006). Given similar cultural practices and contemporary migration histories it is reasonable to extrapolate that the same high percentage would apply in Samoa. Certainly, remittances have contributed greatly to an overall increase in the standard of living in Samoa: health and hygiene, schooling, housing and access to modern technology have all notably improved. Moreover, the level of remittances has formed a crucial element in the formation of national development plans for the later half of the 20th century.

Gross Private Transfer Receipts in US$ million 1993-2002

70.00 60.00 50.00 40.00 30.00 20.00 10.00 0.00 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002

Figure 9: Remittance Transfers to Samoa (Adapted from ADB, 2005)

As early as 1962, Pirie and Barrett (1962: 95, cited in Connell & McCall, 1989:

23) predicted that emigration and the resulting remittances would become central to Samoan economic planning. In 1974, 20 per cent of Samoans were living overseas and remitting over 50 per cent of the national income

(Shankman 1976: 29). By the early 1990s in (Western) Samoa, remittance flows were estimated to be around an annual US$30 million – equal to 30 per cent of estimated GDP and US $180 per capita (Fairbairn 1993: 312). By the end of the decade, as Figure 9 above indicates, that figure had risen to

84 approximately US$40 million (Cutherson 1999 cited in Huffer and So'o 2000) and by 2002 had climbed to US$58 million (Asian Development Bank 2005:

9). There is a good deal of debate also as to whether this figure, as significant as it is, could indeed be much higher. Such a proposition is evidence by the large percentage of remittances received through informal channels that are, as such, untraceable. The latest estimate is that up to 40 per cent of cash remittances could be received through non-official channels, thus implying a official estimates could be ‘grossly underestimated’ (The World Bank 2006:

93). In the case of Samoa this would move the US$42 million received in 2001

(Asian Development Bank 2005: 9) to almost US$60 million, which would significantly exceed the US$49 million that came to Samoa in the form of international aid in the same period (Crocombe 2001). The significance of the gap between formal and informal flows is exemplified further if we consider the 2002 remittances figure of US$58 million as cited above, which increases to a considerable US$81 million when the additional 40 per cent of income is taken into account. Indeed remittances are now likely to exceed the combined income from international aid and trade exports (Asian Development Bank

2005).

The ability to migrate and remit is at this point in Samoa’s development crucial. Tightening immigration policies, changing labour markets, geographical dispersal, social mobility, and a shift in the attitudes of the second and third generation migrants, however, may result in a reduction in remittances. Transnational links may, as a result, be threatened. There are, however, other trends that support transnational spaces. Perhaps the greatest

85 positive is the commitment that Samoans themselves demonstrate to their robust culture, fa’aSamoa. Culture is both a driving force behind immigration and the bond that ties Samoans together across the diaspora. This dedication to fa’aSamoa has thus far proven a very effective strategy. In addition, elements such as supportive migration policies and the dream still held by many

Samoans that they would eventually return ‘home’ are likely to also strengthen links. The advantageous affects of globilisation on cheaper travel and modern communication, and the opportunities it affords for global trade are also of paramount importance. Nevertheless, the vigour and longevity of such transnational community is debatable. There are, for example, both ‘positive’ and 'negative’ nuances of Samoan transnationalism. On balance, however it is likely that transnational spaces will be maintained. The nature of the links may shift, nevertheless they will remain potent and Samoans across the globe will continue to enjoy a network of culture and kin. How transformed or

‘diluted’ it may be, however, is a moot point.

3.3.1.1The perils of remittances

Remittances are pivotal to economic and social development in Samoa. The nexus between the demand for and the supply of remittances is therefore crucial. This places remittance-dependent countries in a vulnerable position with the sustainability of remittances assuming a position of upmost importance. Exposure to risk can originate from a variety of places. The demand for remittances may outstrip supply for example. This may occur because of a downturn in the number of people migrating, perhaps from a

86 change in social or cultural attitudes or as a result of narrowing policy on the behalf of receiving countries. There is a difference in the way that educated youth are discussing migration these days in Samoa as a case in point. In the latter quarter of the twentieth century, no matter the education level, the overwhelming majority of Samoan youth were looking passionately to migrate; it was viewed almost as a ‘right of passage’. They had often been groomed from a young age with their road to international migration starting with a move from the village to attend school in Apia. Not uncommonly this first point of transition was not easy as Temukisa illustrates:

It was really difficult leaving my village. I lived happily with my family including my

grandparents and I was good at school. I mean I was excited too, to be going to live in Apia

and I knew I had to do it if I was to the best grades, but, Oh, I was so lonely. I lived with my

aunt and uncle there but I missed my village and my family. And there were lots of things at

my new school that were really hard … one of the hardest was that we were not allowed to

speak Samoan, only English! I was proud of my language and top in class in Samoan in the

village but now I was punished if I spoke my language. We would get the stick, strap, have to

pick thistles, wear a collar around the neck, pick up rubbish, weed the plantation, get

detention … ‘Kisa, 48, Auckland

Despite these hardships theirs and family expectation would have been great.

So much so that when New Zealand experienced an economic crisis in the

1980s, and associated migration opportunities reduced in Samoa, there was a corresponding increase in youth suicide (MacPherson and MacPherson 1987 cited in Connell 2003). Today, however, an increasing number of young people with good education are looking for a different experience. While they do still talk about migrating they are looking to do so for a much shorter term,

87 long enough to gain another qualification for example, and then to return to

Samoa. This change seems to be driven by an increase in confidence on behalf of the educated youth that once they have gained much sought after qualifications opportunities will be open to them in Samoa. Nurses who gain qualifications overseas, for example, are reputed to attract higher wages and more prestigious positions back in Samoa than those locally trained. In addition, the ‘face’ of Samoa is changing in a way that makes it more attractive to urban-educated youth. There are now, for example, bars and chic cafes in the capital of Apia. Moreover, these educated youth are more and more likely to be from families who do not need or expect remittances to be forthcoming, particularly if their children migrate to better their qualifications. Combined with an increased tendency towards ‘individualism’, as discussed later, it is probable that these young people will not be inclined to remit, or, if they do, transfers will be intermittent and the amounts limited. In relation to a possible decline in the number of people migrating the rate of migration to key Samoan destinations, that is Australia, New Zealand and the USA, has declined in recent years as each of these countries has experienced economic recession and a restructuring of migration policy so that preference is increasingly given to skilled migrants (Brown and Connell 2004).

Regardless of risks, Samoans living away from their country of origin, in remitting, are investing in the on-going social, economic and political everyday life of those in their village back in Samoa. This investment is not done with indifference; emigrants have a strong wish to not only assist family but to maintain links, tradition and culture. They are earnestly committed to their

88 homeland and its culture. Through this process of linking together their societies of origin and settlement Samoan transnational communities have been created across the Pacific Rim. Moreover, in so much as remittances are central to the whole out-migration trend, they have provided the crucial building block upon which such transnational societies have been formed.

Changing labour markets and tightening immigration policies

There are obvious limitations to a transnational system seemingly so dependent on remittances for survival. Of major concern is that emigration depends on circumstances beyond the control of the sending country. For example, restrictive migration policies in the host country can have a devastating consequence. Such was the case with Pacific immigrants into New

Zealand, where more restrictive immigration policies emphasised the vulnerability of the Pacific microstates. New Zealand has been a favoured point of destination for Samoans. At March 1994, there were approximately

175,000 persons of Pacific Island descent living in New Zealand, the equivalent of just over 5 per cent of the population (Bedford, Macpherson &

Spoonley, 1994: 196 cited in Appleyard and Stahl 1995). The 1991 Census indicated that Samoans were by far the largest group represented with 85,743

(Appleyard and Stahl 1995: 16). As a host country New Zealand has afforded untold numbers of Samoans with many opportunities. But New Zealand, like many counties, underwent a labour market revolution in the last quarter of the

20th century; this change was to have an equally profound affect on the hopes and dreams of many Samoans.

89 In the immediate post-war years the New Zealand government decided to lead

New Zealand into an era of industrial expansion; this decision was to become the impetus for post-war immigration of Samoans to New Zealand. The demand was for semi or unskilled labour. Workers were needed in the mass- production factories of New Zealand and in the service sector. One very popular source of this labour was the surrounding Pacific countries. Demand for immigrants remained high and during the 1960s and early 1970s many

Samoans were to make New Zealand their new ‘home’. Once workers arrived from the Pacific they sponsored family members (Spoonley 1990). By 1970 labour shortages were acute, especially amongst the manufacturing sector. In the fiscal year of 1973/74 for example 69,815 permanent long-term arrivals reached New Zealand, 6 per cent coming from Pacific island countries

(Farmer 1989 cited in Appleyard and Stahl 1995: 18).

One consequence of this migration in the 1950s through to the 1980s was that it positioned Pacific peoples in the wrong sectors of the New Zealand economy

(Bedford, Macpherson & Spoonley, 2001: 7). A 1990s study concluded that there was the rapid acceleration of ‘trends linking race with economic status’, and that a substantial Polynesian minority ‘are becoming an entrenched under- class’ (Krishnan et al., 1994: 83 cited in Appleyard and Stahl, 1995: 19). This working class agency resulted in a lack of control over all aspects of their economic lives, including their ability to remit back to Samoa, and, as a consequence, maintain strong transnational links. The trend culminated with the so-called OPEC ‘oil crisis’ in 1973. High unemployment and worsening terms of trade led to the government of New Zealand greatly restricting

90 migration (Appleyard and Stahl, 1995: 19). Since 1975 the net flow of

Samoans to New Zealand has dropped, with more Samoans actually departing

New Zealand than arriving in 1978. For many Samoan immigrants and their families the end of an era of easy migration had arrived.

Up until the 1980s New Zealand’s economy had been based on Industrial

Capitalism, that is, mass production, mass consumption and ‘a policy of state based support for the service sector that is inimical to the welfare state’

(Bedford, Macpherson et al. 2001: 7). The country was soon however to undergo a radical transformation. In fact, according to Bedford, Macpherson

& Spoonley (2001:7), New Zealand is one of the more extreme examples of a nation state that sought to shift its policy ‘from one of protection and support to one that attempts to encourage international competitiveness and openness’.

Radical restructuring begun in New Zealand in 1984 and continued into the nineteen nineties; the collapse of the New Zealand Labour Market from 1987 onwards, resulted in rapid de-industrialisation, loss of public sector jobs and the casualisation of work. During this time those who had been dependent on the lower end of the labour market were the worst hit: the impact was most significant on Maori and Pacific peoples (Bedford, Macpherson & Spoonley,

2001). Moreover, as general economic conditions deteriorated, Pacific islanders ‘being more visible than other groups, became convenient scapegoats for some or all of the economic problems facing the country’ (Appleyard &

Stahl, 1995: 19). Times now got considerably more challenging for the Pacific islanders with ‘over-stayers’ being deported, racism running wild and fears about the ‘brown-peril’ once again raising to the surface. The situation

91 continued to worsen, such that by the early 1990s the unemployment rate for

Pacific islanders in New Zealand was double that of the general population, having risen to 28 per cent from 12 per cent in 1986 (Appleyard, and Stahl,

1995: 19). As a result of this worsening situation and the performance of the

New Zealand economy in general, the migration of Pacific islanders came under further scrutiny in 1989. Officials questioned the wisdom of allowing essentially unskilled or semi-skilled labour to continue to enter the country in large numbers. In 1991 New Zealand immigration policy was further tightened to make it more difficult for unskilled labour to enter (Bedford,

Macpherson & Spoonley, 1994, cited in Appleyard and Stahl, 1995: 19).

Employment opportunities in the 1960s were plentiful; by the 1980s the situation had reversed, becoming desperate. By the 1990s it was very difficult for the semi-skilled or unskilled to enter the country except under the terms of the family reunification program. Initially, Samoans like the Maoris and other

Pacific Islanders, were the victims of this transformation. Many families fell on hard times and maintaining the flow of remittances back to Samoa became an increasingly arduous task. Paradoxically this was not to have an adverse effect on the numbers of people wishing to migrate to New Zealand, regardless of limited opportunity to do so. This has been attributed to the strength of the diasporic community, such that once chain migration has been perpetuated the effect of wage levels, employment opportunities and migration policy ‘are progressively overshadowed by the falling costs and risks of movement stemming from the growth of migrant networks over time’ (Massey, Arango et al. 1993).

92 The trend towards a preference for skilled immigrants has in the majority continued across the Pacific Rim countries. There have been strategic adaptations though. Where once families wanted at least one child that was good enough to send overseas in order that they might send back remittances now people are likely to want a skilled child. Having your child train as a nurse or a teacher is a popular choice for example, because either is ‘an easily commodified export earner’ (Connell 2005). This is not of course without its problems, for instance youth resent being channelled into careers they do not want. Paradoxically however, many see it as an opportunity to travel for training and work so that they are still willing to do their ‘duty’, but it is not now without a sense of individualistic adventure. There is, however, a deeper concern associated with an increase in a preference for skilled labour. Recent studies have concluded that inequality is likely to increase as the pressure for skilled migrants increases (The World Bank 2006). Whereas once even poor families could pool resources, likely with the assistance of family already abroad, so as to support a young person to take up a factory job in New

Zealand for instance these opportunities are closing. The evidence is strong that when the poor migrate for labour the remittances are spread widely throughout the village. The increasing reality is, however, that only those young people who have access to good schooling from an early age are likely to secure the grades in order to get the financial backing they need to be trained into skilled positions. One obvious conclusion to this scenario is the loss of a generation of skilled workers from Pacific Island countries.

Accordingly questions are being asked as to whether the benefits of exporting

93 labour for remittance return can possibly compensate for the skill depletion and, moreover, can we expect inequality to worsen (The World Bank 2006)?

Given that these selected youth are more likely to reside in, or close by to, the capital, Apia, and have themselves well educated parents with good jobs this is a distinct possibility, will we see a ‘privileged’ class emerging? A class of immigrants that are inturn more likely to look to use remittances for investment rather than as an informal substitute social support system of the type that is been so vital up until now in Samoa.

Economic downturn too is one of a variety of reasons why remittances tend to reduce over time. According to Connell (1995: 266) ‘such wide-ranging uncertainties shape the nature of the links with home’. Muliana also (2001: 32) acknowledges that a percentage of those covered in his study were less optimistic about maintaining their present level of remittances because of the probability of being made redundant. Given the pivotal nature of remittances to the maintenance of ‘links with home’ it is reasonable to conclude that such a reduction in remittances also places stress on transnational relationships.

Generations of Change

Foner asks the questions “Is transnationalism a first generation phenomenon?”

(Foner 1997: 356). Golgberg does indeed speculate that we might be witnessing a first generation phenomenon, and that the culture and political economy of the transnational migrant experience may wither (cited in Foner,

1997: 370). In other words does transnationalism address a phenomenon of lasting significance? It is already anticipated that future generations of South

94 Pacific migrants will not feel the degree of obligation that the first wave of migrants felt and that there will be, as a consequence, a dropping off of remittances. Given that by the late 1990s two-thirds of Pacific Island people living in New Zealand were in fact born there (Macpherson, Bedford et al.

2000) this is a highly significant issues. In Muliaina’s (2001: 32) study, ninety- five percentage of respondents were emphatic about their wish to continue remitting for the rest of their lives. Since, however, there was already evidence that their children and grandchildren were questioning the personal benefits of the practice, they also recognised the likelihood of remittance decline when their grandchildren become adults. Lee (2004) too in her work on ‘second generation’ Tongans has question whether their commitment to Tonga will move beyond the ‘emotional’ to the practical. She questions whether they will send remittances and, as a result, fears for the economic future of Tonga.

These fears are certainly consistent with many Samoans living in the diaspora; they are worried whether their children will support family in Samoa. Leah is typical of this group. Having brought her children up overseas, pushing them

‘to be American’ she is concerned about their commitment to Samoa:

When they were young I just wanted them to take advantage of every opportunity they could

have here; that is why we decided to migrate, for them. And they did well, but now I am

worried. I am worried because I do not see them as thinking of acting much Samoan at all

… I guess I thought they would just take that from us, but now I realise that I should have

been stricter with them, taken them home more, made them speak the language. Now I am

worried that they have lost their connection, will not understand the significance and as a

consequence they won’t worry for our family or land there when I am gone … Leah, 60,

Tacoma, USA

95 When Leah says, “I am worried they have lost their connection, will not understand the significance …” she is expressing a deep-rooted concerned expressed by many first generation Samoans. This is not just about lost identity; it is that and much more. It is about loss of cultural knowledge. Leah also spoke about her children’s reluctance to contribute to fa’alavelave. On a practical level she wanted their assistance to met obligations. On a more spiritual level she was concerned that their reluctance to contribute demonstrated a fundamental lack of understanding. There was a frustration also even when they did contribute cash because they would still not attend functions with her. As Cluny Macpherson explained it ‘it is more than the envelope6, it is time, it is spirit, it is representation.’ (Macpherson and

Macpherson 2006) The point here is that if the second generation choose to contribute in cash only (when contribute at all) they will not hear the speeches, they will not learn the lessons, they will loose their spiritual connection. If this should happen, calling yourself ‘Samoan’ will have lost much of its deeper meaning.

The attitudes of adult children are often contrary to that of their parents.

Children born in New Zealand may see themselves and their place in society very differently from their Pacific island born parents (Bedford, Macpherson et al. 2001: 11) for example. Muliaina points out that many of the second generation living abroad in that study had a significant desire to leave the parental home ‘so as to escape traditional and cultural obligations’; to gain control over ‘their’ money. Adult children generally receive requests for

6 Cash contributions are distributed at fa’alavelave in sealed envelopes.

96 remittances through their parents. Having been influenced by their parent’s commitment to a world-view forged in a Pacific homeland, and been bought up to obey their parents, to deny such requests would be highly unlikely.

However all members of Muliana’s (2001: 32) study admitted to ‘the feeling of resentment towards the remittance practice’. While parents strongly believed that generous contributions to fa’alavelave helped the maintenance of kinship ties, enhanced family status and gave added pride to the extended family, adult children saw life crisis not as an investment, but as a burden (Muliaina 2001:

33, see also Connell, 1995: 268). It is important to note however that attitudes to remittances in general are changing. Whereas once sending regular remittances as a significant and set percentage of wages was standard practice, these days those in diaspora are tending towards sending money on a ‘needs basis’ only. This is particularly the case if their parents have either passed away or are living in the diaspora with them, which is more and more common. This change has come about in response to a number of circumstances, some economic and some social. It is, however, fair to stress that family living on the island are no longer needing and looking for regular remittances as much either; it is much more likely that they will ask for assistance only at high demand times such as fa’alavelave. Counter to this view regarding a reluctance to send remittances also are some young women in my own study who may have felt this way when they were young, but having married and had children of their own are more inclined towards renewing their own, and hence their children’s, connection with Samoan culture:

97 I have to admit that I really resented Mum asking me for money to send back to the island

when I was younger; I really didn’t appreciate what it was about, I just thought those in the

island were being greedy. Now I feel kinda shame about that. Now I have my own children I

see how important the culture is, so when I can I help out I do… because one day I want my

kids to understand what it is to be Samoan, and to do this they need to have those connections

ah! ‘Ipu, 27, Auckland

There are many transformative influences in the lives of overseas born

Samoans to consider, intermarriage being one of the most significant. The rate of intermarriage between Samoans and non-Samoans is perhaps surprising, with one 1970s study putting it as high as one third amongst young Samoans and another more recent study in Hawaii at forty per cent (Shankman 1993:

162). Current research in New Zealand would indicate that ethnic intermarriage is even higher amongst the current generation (Macpherson and

Macpherson 2006). My own research would certainly support these figures with second generation immigrants interviewed in particularly generally

‘dismissive’ of any concerns about intermarriage. This is contrary to many other immigrant populations who have a preference for their children to marry within the same ethnic or cultural group. Nor does it necessarily seem to be a counter influence in regards to the continuing practice of sending remittances, particularly in response to fa’alavelave. Indeed young Samoans, particularly women, may see one of the attributes of marrying a papalagi as increasing status and consequential access to a good income; a benefit their parents are almost certainly likely to also appreciate.

Amongst the second generation born in New Zealand, the attitudes that influenced their parents will be even less pronounced because it will be

98 associated with their grandparents. Feasibly, the third generation born overseas may grow up without contact with people who were born and raised in islands and thus committed to, and familiar with, what Bedford (Bedford,

Macpherson et al. 2001: 11) terms ‘the island world view and lifestyle’.

Regardless, Samoan responses to migration will continue to involve the careful balancing of choices between traditional values and individualist tendencies

(Fairbairn and Dunlop 1993: 340-1). In other words, the children of the first generation, and their children after them, are likely to have a more individualistic orientated set of priorities (Connell 2005). Muliana believes that it can be ‘safely inferred that the amount of remittances these children will send, once their parents have died, will be small, if any’ (2001: 33). It is reasonable to infer also that such a reduction in remittances will threaten transnational links.

Changing Socio-economic Circumstances and Geographic Dispersion

Successive New Zealand censuses have shown an upward trend in the socio- economic status of Polynesian people. Bedford, Macpherson and Spoonley

(2001:14) argue that this trend may have a detrimental affect on the transnational societies. As people become more upwardly mobile they tend to leave behind the doctrine that binds them to the past. Their belief system having been so altered, they may now fail to see the benefits of a system they once valued highly. According to Bedford, Macpherson and Spoonley

(2001:14):

99 For many who enjoy the security conferred on them by their citizenship,

occupational status, private income and wealth, membership of an ethnic

community may become less and less significant because it is no longer central to

their sense of identity as it was to their parents and grandparents.

If such a break with the past were to occur then commitment to tradition, culture and the ‘home-land’ may wane. One possible outcome of such a decline in commitment would be a reluctance to remit. As a further consequence transnational communities would be threatened.

One of the foundations of the relatively coherent communities of Polynesian people formed in New Zealand since the Second World War has been the concentration of people in a small number of urban locations (Bedford,

Macpherson and Spoonley 2001:15). These enclaves were concentrated around the primary and secondary industries that attracted the migrant labour to New Zealand. As the labour base has changed people are generally moving further away from major settlements in search of opportunity. As a consequence, these tight-knit communities, which once provided a strong link to ‘island life’ and traditional belief systems, are being eroded. The children of the second generation may now find themselves not only separated in attitude from their parents, but geographically distanced as well. Such distance, whether attitudinal or literal, will also have an effect on the commitment to their, or their parent’s, countries of origin.

100 3.3.1.2 Sustaining Remittances

Thus far in this section I have discussed scenarios that may pose a threat to transnational connections. Firstly the slow-down in the economy7 of receiving countries has a significant impact on the immigrant’s opportunity to earn an income, which in turn limits their ability to send remittances. Often related to the first point, the change in migration policies in the host countries can have a profound affect on the ability to migrate in the first place. An upwardly change in economic status may influence people to break ties with the past as may an increase geographical dispersal of immigrants within the host country. Lastly, a change in the attitude of second-generation migrants away from a more traditional family orientated to a more individualistic one is questioning the very foundation of the phenomenon. The longevity of Pacific transnational communities will thus depend on the creation of new means of maintaining links. Modern technology, the new global economy, new laws and political arrangements all combine to offer such opportunities.

Favourable migration policies

Foner argues that, at least for the next generation, the migration policies of the

United States are likely to be supportive of transnational spaces. That is to say that the USA is likely to remain an “immigration country” with the resultant on-going inflows bringing new recruits who will “enrich and replenish ethnic

7 The economic downturn in New Zealand and direct impact on Samoans is discussed Chapter 5, Migration Motivation. Janes (1990) describes a parallel set of circumstances in the USA following the economic downturn around the same era. He notes that unskilled Samoans, like immigrants from and Asia, faced heightened competition for jobs in a declining market.

101 communities-and will include substantial numbers with close ties to their homelands.” (1997: 370).

For many Polynesians the New Zealand government’s decision in the 1990s to enable migrants to transfer their pensions back to their country of origin, has, in a similar way, supported transnational links. Overwhelmingly, when people have the means to return home that is what they choose to do, and, in so doing, they further strengthen the links between the new and the old country.

According to Bedford, Macpherson and Spoonley (2001:4) the next major barrier that Pacific Island lobbyist will seek to have removed in New Zealand is the requirement for most Pacific peoples to obtain short-term visas to visit the country. One of the benefits of globalisation has been a reduction in the cost of travel. It is probable then that one component of increasing importance for the strengthening of transnational communities will be an increase in people’s ability to visit their family spread across the Pacific Rim. A reduction in the cost of transport is one important step in this trend; the removal of legal barriers such as visas would greatly assist the process further.

Both New Zealand and Australia have been reviewing guest worker schemes.

At the October 2005 Pacific Island Forum New Zealand agreed to give priority to Pacific Islanders to take advantage of seasonal work under their guest worker scheme. It is estimated that there will be 5,000 jobs that workers from Fiji, Kirabati, Samoa, Tonga, Tuvalu and will compete for. New

Zealand has noted that this formalised access to work will ‘encourage economic development and stability in the [Pacific] region’ (Hannan 2006).

102 In contradiction, the Australian government thus far remains resistant to such an approach. They have, however, already made concessions in other areas.

For example the working visa has been extended from one year to two if an applicant does three months agricultural work. This testifies to the governments’ openness when it suits them. The drive behind such strategic decisions is obviously not altruistic or humanitarian; Australia experiences significant labour shortages during fruit picking seasons, around the Riverina region of New South Wales for example. The option of seasonal working visas is thus being considered to allow Pacific Island workers access to employment.

The rhetoric is couched in terms of opening up labour opportunities in order to assist Pacific ‘neighbours’. Of course many Pacific Islanders would embrace the opportunity. However the underlying sentiment has not been accepted without suspicion. Moreover, there are many that have been critical of

Australia’s recent general ‘framing’ of the Pacific Islands, claiming that ‘the underlying preconceptions suggest that it implicitly denies self-determination while claiming to advance it, and promotes superiority and exclusion while claiming to advance equality’ (Fry 1997: 305).

Such plans to open up Australian borders even to seasonal migration seemed to have abated but the Rudd government is now reconsidering them.

Traditional concerns, such as that of ‘over-stayers’, have been mixed with more contemporary rhetoric about regional insecurity and terrorism threats.

Nevertheless if this scheme, or any like it, were ever put in place then it would certainly open up opportunities for Pacific Islands and assist them to maintain vibrant diasporic communities.

103 The dream of returning

There has not been an era of sustained return migration in the Pacific in the last quarter of a century (Connell 2005). There was and still is to a lesser degree however, a belief amongst Samoan emigrants that their migration will not be a permanent one, that is to say that they will eventually return home:

Our whole life here [in New Zealand] is only in preparation for the grand return

to our homeland. Their hopes and dreams all revolve around our return.’ (Wendt

1974: 267).

Although, this dream is no longer as prevalent as it was when Wendt penned these words, or even as pertinent as it was only a decade ago, many Samoans living in the diaspora still muse about living back in Samoa. People tend to return for social reasons while they have left for economic reasons. Usually this is within the context of looking after family, or ‘retirement’ or, in some cases, in order to take on the responsibilities associated with a matai title.

People are today also alluding to ‘returning’ in order to commence small businesses, most often in the tourist or transport sector.

Despite this strength of ideology ultimately few definitely choose to return, and fewer succeed, but, ‘though dreams may be tarnished, they still remain, with the dream of return more likely to be postponed than forgotten’ (Connell and Brown 1995: 274). The reality is, however, that Samoan immigrant lives are increasingly embedded in the diaspora. They and their network of kin have become increasingly dependent on the opportunities, services and goods on offer in the diaspora. The experience from other countries tells us also that as transnational communities develop, migrants develop deeper commitments to

104 residence and may entirely abandon the idea of returning from whence they came (Goss and Linquist 2000). This is certainly true of the lives of diasporic

Samoans. Indeed it is not uncommon for people to talk about the conflict they feel between their ‘new ‘aiga’ and their commitments back in Samoa:

It is really hard sometimes because I feel really torn. So many fa’alavelave! Here where I

live now I have family but I also have my new ‘family’ through the church … they are like

family now too, and when ever there is a wedding or funeral … when I have obligations there

now as well … in some ways it was easier when we first came because we only have family

back in the village to think about … but then it was much harder in some ways too because

we didn’t have the support here like we do now. So we try really hard to balance them all!

Laya, 57, Auckland

What Laya is referring to is now a reality for many people. The church and the congregation have taken on even greater significance in some ways than in the village. Far beyond a place of spiritual guidance the church has become the substitute village and the congregation the ‘aiga. It represents, if you like, family, society and spiritually, not unlike it has done during certain eras of history in other places, in small isolated country towns in Australia for example. By this means, the cultural and spiritual richness of life in the village has also, to a great degree, been replicated in their new communities. For instance it is no longer necessary for Samoans to return to The Island for or (as once was the practice), for there are now many religious and cultural leaders (matai) living in the diaspora. Another major point of influence is the likelihood that their closest relatives are living in the diaspora too. Established communities and cheaper and easier plane travel mean that many more elderly parents have either joined adult children in the

105 diaspora or visit often for extended periods. Given that most Samoans list

‘missing their parents’ or ‘needing to care for their parents’ as high on their list of motivators for returning to either Samoa permanently or for extended periods of time, this advancement is obviously significant. Where once immigration was seen as short term and primarily for economic gain there are now other factors that influence decisions to migrate. Education is now a primary motivator for migration plus a strong force for staying in the diaspora.

Of those early Samoan migrants who stayed abroad many now not only have children born and educated in the diaspora but they also have grandchildren.

In many cases their children, and even more likely, their grandchildren have had limited contact with Samoa beyond an occasional visit at Christmas or for fa’alavelave. It is most unlikely that these overseas born Samoans will ever choose to permanently live in Samoa. The bond between generations amongst

Samoans is very strong; it is not likely that the parents of these children will ever permanently return to Samoa, leaving their offspring abroad.

Nevertheless, Samoan migrants are rarely willing to rule out altogether the possibility of ‘one-day’ returning. As a consequence they will make a strategic choice to stay strongly connected – by contributing to fa’alavelave, assisting with the management of land and other resources, paying for the education of related children for instance – so that they retain the physical, spiritual and cultural rights necessary to ensure returning an option. Connell stresses the importance of this phenomenon when he writes:

In an uncertain global political economy, even the most cosmopolitan Samoan

must ensure that Samoa is not merely a nostalgic fantasy, but a potential real

106 destination. The persistence of ideology of return is just one means of bridging

and welding together many different places, lifestyles and opportunities (1995:

277).

The potency of such ideology will continue to be a critical constituent in the formation and endurance of Pacific transnational communities.

New Technologies and cheaper transport

Globilisation policy has forced a fundamental restructuring of industry in the metropolitan countries of the Pacific Rim, with, initially at least, a negative consequence on both the migration and employment opportunities of Pacific island immigrants. This has, as discussed previously, threatened the remittance system on which countries such as Samoa have come to depend, and moreover, threatened the emigrant’s ability to maintain their transnational links with their country of origin. Ironically though, globilisation has also brought opportunities to strengthen links across the globe. Indeed global networks are becoming of increasing importance to transnational communities.

According to Wolf (2002), the falling costs of transport and communications on the one-hand, and liberalising economic policies on the other, are the key factors contributing to today’s globalising world. These changes offer great opportunity for the enhancement of transnational communities. Global economic activities increase the significance of cultural networks that cross international boundaries. People move with greater ease while information, traditions, activities and economic resources are also exchanged more readily.

Pacific peoples already enjoy some advantages of this trend (Bedford,

Macpherson et al. 2001: 10). Bedford argues, for example, that it is worth

107 considering the importance of the economic links between Chinese overseas and those resident in the United States, suggesting that there is no reason to deny that these networks of Pacific peoples provide any less of an opportunity to participate in global trade, albeit on a very different scale (2001). The reduced cost of communications and the speed at which information is now spread also offers ’s great opportunity. Young people in particular are more likely to take advantage of electronic means such as the

Internet, mobile phone texting and email. What this means, as Kennedy and

Roudometof (2003: 21) stress is that ‘Locality is no longer the only or even primary vehicle for sustaining community.’ Moreover they go onto argue that migrants:

Opt for the perpetuation of active transnational linkages between homeland and

host country in preference to assimilation because such technologies have placed

the power to create a simultaneity of experience and feeling right in to the hands

of migrants themselves (Smith 1998: 213 cited in Kennedy and Roudometof

2003: 21).

Cheaper transportation too is of a great advantage; Pacific island people have always travelled, cheaper air travel only means that they can do so more readily.

In closing this section I borrow heavily from a recent publication by Connell where he concluded with a number of key findings in regards to remittances.

In summary, he concluded that remittances are both substantial and growing in volume and that there has at least been a partial transition from consumption to investment; that they are an important alternative to more

108 conventional forms of development; that they contribute to human resource development, social networks and societal capital. Lastly he confirms that migration and the associated boost in remittances is actively and strategically planned for (Connell 2006) .

3.3.2 An Ominous Future?

The lives of Samoans are increasingly complicated and entrenched in the global economy. Strong transnational community has been built and thus far maintained on the basis of a strong culture to such a degree that ‘Samoanness’ now extends across oceans, borders, space and time. Is this, however, the way of the future?

Despite a sense of ‘goodwill’ Samoans are questioning reciprocal obligations.

Increasingly complex lives, now spanning across generations, has lead to conflicting demands and desires. At a time when the cost of living in the diaspora is increasing and time demands are also on the rise they face uncertain times as the job market contracts and their credit runs dry. These issues are embodied in the forces that threaten Samoan transnationalism.

Conversely there are positive forces that may assist to sustain transnational community. It is likely, at least in the short-term that Samoans will continue to create and sustain transnational spaces; they have proven very robust at establishing and maintaining connections. Is there, however, a crisis looming across the diaspora? The worse case scenario is a degree of transformation that is not sustainable, which may result in a people and a culture cut adrift. More likely, however, is an attenuation of linkages and a cyclically negotiated future.

109 CHAPTER 4: CULTURAL TRANSFORMATION & REPRESENTATION

Everywhere we look, we see institutions that appear as they used to be from the

outside, and carry the same names, but inside have become quite different. We

continue to talk of the nation, the family, work, tradition, nature, as if they were

all the same as the past. They are not. The outer shell remains, but inside all is

different – and this is happening … almost everywhere8

Contemporary Samoa is often touted as a country of social stability with an economy ‘that has become a model for the Pacific region’ (Va'a 2007: 247). In keeping with this I have, thus far, argued for the stoic transition of Samoa through many phases: from early contact with Europeans, the coming of

Christianity, colonisation, occupation and the gaining of Independence.

Moreover, I have contended that this ability to adapt and survive has been carried forward into contemporary times. I have demonstrated this trait by exemplifying a strategic response to the opening up of post WWII employment opportunities. Despite massive numbers of Samoans migrating offshore to secure employment cultural strength and endurance is witnessed across the diaspora; Samoan communities and culture, fa’aSamoa, has spread to over thirty countries. To this end, there exists today an extensive and sophisticated

‘matrix of movement’ that includes people ideas, capital and technology

(Macpherson and Macpherson 2006). In a contemporary sense this process of adaptation continues as small island countries across the Pacific, as Morgan

Tuimaleali’ifano states, ‘attempt to modernize under the relentless onslaught of economic globalization.’ (2006).

8 Anthony Giddens, BBC Reith Lecture Series http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/events/reith_99 (first cited in Nero, K 2000)

110 It is now generally accepted that the neo-liberal economic policies closely associated with globalisation – free markets, the dismantling of welfare systems, privatisation of public schemes and curtailing of government expenditure – are prevalent in the Pacific region. Held argues that globalisation,

…refers to a shift or transformation in the scale of human organization that links

distant communities and expands the reach of power relations across the world’s

regions. This shift can be mapped by examining the expanding scale, growing

magnitude, speeding up and deepening impact of transcontinental flows and

patterns of social interaction (2004: 1 cited in Firth 2007).

As clearly expressed by Held, and as discussed in detail elsewhere in this thesis, the effects of globalisation go well beyond economics. Giddens reinforced this view when he stated that, ‘Globalisation is political, technological and cultural, as well as economic’ (1999). It is largely the influence of these non-economic paradigms that shape this thesis. This is not to discount the very real influence that economic policies have had and continue to have on the island of Samoa and Samoans. Indeed without changing global economic circumstances, migration paths would not have opened up to

Samoans and, unquestionably, there would not be the extensive and thriving

Samoan diaspora that exists today. When examining the key themes explored in later chapters however - the motivation behind migration, identity, attitudes towards traditional activities and thinking around major cultural transformations – social rather than economic factors will be considered. The discussion on remittances is perhaps the obvious exception to this, however; even then, I do not enter into strictly economic analysis of remittances but

111 rather explore its place in social networks and meeting cultural obligations. In part this is what sets this study apart from other studies of international labour migration, remittances and the formation of diasporic community; I am not interested in these aspects per se but in the social nuances that motivated the change and sustaining, or otherwise, of a strong indigenous culture.

4.1 The Reciprocity Cycle

It is difficult to imagine a set of circumstances more likely to deal a fatal blow to

a system of extended kinship based on common ownership of resources and

which evolved in a small rural village based society (Macpherson and

Macpherson 1999)

The extract above refers to a discussion concerning the beginnings of Samoan mass out-migration and the unlikely event that kinship would be maintained under such circumstances. And yet, as the paper went on to contend, ‘kinship turned up as a central feature of migrant community organization’

(Macpherson and Macpherson 1999: 285). This is what stands the Samoan diaspora apart from other studies of migration. Despite all economic, social and cultural transformation to date there has been nothing less than a robust commitment to the Samoan identity, cultural ways and pride in ‘belonging’. In particular I would stress that not only do Samoan transnational communities owe their success to fa’aSamoa and that they were only able to establish and subsequently flourish because of elements of fa’aSamoa but also that the migration itself was possible because of a long-standing strong culture that had both collectivism and mobility at its core. Mobility is built into fa’aSamoa; we see it in the cultural concepts of malaga and va, or the social space which

112 “engages the power within and between spaces and places arrayed in opposition to each other” (Sa'iliemanu 2009: 1). Collectivism rather than individualism means that the culture is built on looking after the ‘collective good’ rather than the individual. As long as fa’aSamoa has existed the matai, as the political head of the ‘aiga have made decisions about who should be responsible for supplying what to the collective. This commitment is certainly being tested - the study of this ‘testing’ being pivotal to this study. There is no debate, however, that it was of central import to the sending of people beyond

Samoan shores. Motivation behind migration may have evolved to be more individualistic today but nevertheless a commitment to the collective still remains. The point to stress here is that when Samoans send remittances back to Samoa they are doing so within the context of long-standing cultural responsibility; the practice is not new, the ‘goods’ may differ but the process has not. This practice is in contrast to that of other remittance-sending migrants from both within and outside of the region. The sending of remittances (or like practice) is a modern occurrence in Fiji for example, it having only commenced in very recent times. Based on pre-existing military training thousands of Fijians have joined either the British Army or been enlisted as private security guards in Iraq. Fiji has now joined both Tonga and

Samoa as remittance economies in the South Pacific as queues of prospective international workers await the opportunity to secure cash incomes (Firth

2005). It is important to note also that those leaving Fiji are not looking to migrate; they are taking advantage of short-term labour migration opportunities. A similar scenario applies in the also. In 1991

113 seventeen per cent9 of families in the Philippines reported receiving income from contract workers overseas (Rodriguez 1996). In both of these examples the sending of remittances is to be anticipated; it is likely a prime motivation forces behind seeking overseas contract employment. The sending of remittances does so readily fit the Samoan pattern however. Whereas once

Samoans too sought employment overseas as short-term contract workers, these days their migration is much more likely to be permanent. This is despite the rhetoric of returning home; as discussed elsewhere, lives are now firmly fixed in the diaspora. This being the case remittance decay would be anticipated. According to Brown, however, the ‘remittance decay hypothesis’ has no validity in the case of Samoa. He concludes that, “migrants are motivated by factors other than altruistic family support, including asset accumulation and investment back home” (Brown 1997: 613). I would content that further influences are implicated too. When the sending of remittances is considered within a Samoan context it is more than altruism or asset accretion that motivates people; the survival of culture is the incentive.

Fa’aSamoa is based on kinship, a kinship system founded on economic and social obligation and rights. That is, under fa’aSamoa you have rights to resources and support but in return you have obligations to meet. Kinship- based rights and obligations extend from the simplest of everyday interactions and tasks – cooking, transport, caring – through to a deeper ‘life-crisis’ level.

Obligation, at the further end of the scale, includes sharing the burden placed

9As discussed elsewhere this figure is closer to 90 per cent of household in Polynesian countries, refer Sudo, K. (1997). Introduction: Contemporary Migration in Oceania. In Contemporary Migration in Oceania: Diaspora and Network. K. Sudo and S. Yoshida, The Japan Centre for Area Studies: 1 - 10.

114 on the wider family during fa’alavelave and doing service to the head of the extended family, the matai, and these days also the Minister and lotu (church).

Your rights include access to resources; labour, goods, cash, land. This assertion is consistent with the research of many leading scholars who argue that Pacific transnationalism is based on reciprocity or kinship obligations

(See for example Addo 2006; Macpherson and Macpherson 2006; Nakhid

2006).

Reciprocity is pivotal to the formation and success of the Samoan diasporic community. By adhering to custom across the diaspora, Samoans were able to sustain links across nations, links that both reinforced tradition and strengthened community. Every time a Samoan was dispatched with the support of their ‘aiga to take up a position overseas and, inturn, they repaid this support through the sending of remittances back to the island, the circle of rights and obligations - of reciprocity - was replicated. In this way culture was the motivating force and the lifeline between those in the diaspora and those back ‘home’ on the island of Samoa. Contrary to what may have been predicted migration actually, at best, strengthened and at least, reinforced fa’aSamoa. Perhaps ironically this strength enabled a flexible response to opportunity and the necessary adaptations, which, in turn, supported more migration and the building of a vital diasporic population; a diasporic population that now exceeds 200,000, which is more than the number of

Samoans living in Samoa. Crucially within this population there exists a

‘residual indebtedness’. As MacPherson and Macpherson explain, participation in life crisis, fa’alavelave, results in this residual indebtedness,

115 which inturn acts as a ‘bond’ (2006). The kinship system is designed so that each and every member is bonded to the other; they either have an obligation debt to pay or a previous contribution they can call upon to be met as needed.

Hence the reciprocity cycle is created and maintained.

Of course there were always those who stepped outside of this system but, particularly in the early post-war period up until the 1980s, they were and are still today, the exception rather than the rule. While the burden of fa’aSamoa is without doubt heavy it also acts as a social security net for you and your ‘aiga.

There is an expression in Samoa that translates roughly to “Samoans don’t need banks, you deposit in your extended family”. This security is not easy to abandon, needing to be very confident of your own abilities before taking such a drastic step. To turn your back on fa’aSamoa entirely is tantamount to rejecting everything you have known, your identity, your culture, your connections to home, land and to ‘aiga; your way of making sense of the world.

To forsake ‘aiga is to forfeit access to a range of resources be they material, social or spiritual. Support networks, based around the church and family in the diaspora, are central to people’s emotional and physical wellbeing.

Additionally, these relationships hold the key to accessing material resources, be they financial, labour or ‘customary’. For instance, an occasion of fa’alavelave, which have proliferated both in terms of the nature of and number of occasions, is a time when striking amounts of labour and financial support are required. It is not uncommon for thousands of dollars, sometime tens of thousands of dollars, to be exchanged in money and goods on such occasions.

Equally, if one wishes to stay connected to customary land back in Samoa then

116 one needs meet ones’ fa’aSamoa commitments. To forfeit access to any of these is momentous. In opposition, the pull of modernity can be equally strong, the lure great. Accordingly, the overwhelming majority of Samoans, particularly those who are ‘first-generation’, in the diaspora attempt to negotiate between two worlds – the world of ‘tradition’ represented by fa’aSamoa and collectivism and that of modernity, characterised by new surroundings, individualism and opportunities. Stories of how people were concerned with public perception intrigued me throughout my study. As one participant put it:

We always want to be seen to be doing the right thing, you know. You feel a real need to

balance your own wants and those of the people around you – your parents, people in the

church, the minister, etc. So, we do what is right [in the community’s eye] and then we go

out for a drink as well. Kinda being both Samoan and palagi. After a night out drinking we

[she and her husband] make sure we go to church early so no one suspects! [laughs] Lucy,

27, Auckland

For most this means maintaining committed to fa’aSamoa, that is, fulfilling their customary obligations, while also taking advantage of prospects and ‘life opportunities’ now available. To illustrate, many Samoans in the diaspora have a mortgage on top of other financial responsibilities such as their children’s schooling. Neither the desire for a home nor to have children educated is a change in itself; is it the weighting that is afforded these items that has shifted.

These are individual or nuclear family based desires, each exemplifying a broader movement away from a traditional collectivism upon which fa’aSamoa is founded. In this case, however, both tradition and modernity are valued.

Nevertheless, finding the balance is not easy. Items such as mortgage and schooling expenses drain resources that would have once been poured directly

117 back into ‘aiga both in the diaspora but more importantly back in Samoa. In order to do this they have placed themselves under a great deal of stress and there is mounting evidence that the system too is under great strain. People carry large amounts of personal debt, the money often borrowed from fringe lenders, finance companies or family members. The cost, as this Internet post testifies is high:

I have no problem with the occasional sao ga mea [contribution for a certain purpose] and I

do realize that sometimes everything just seem to happen all at the same time. I’ve also been

on the receiving end of the sao ga mea issue since we’ve had a couple of occasions when family

has helped us for our fa’alavelaves. Like every other Samoans who still subscribes to our

traditional values I’ve also been the one giving the help on more than a few occasions and

we’ve done so gladly and given what we were able to give. However, I am saddened when I see

a practice that was meant to be an expression of love turn into something that has literally

put some people in the poor house. I mean isn’t it ridiculous that people have to get loans so

that they can make their kusaga for a fa’alavelave? I look at our Samoan people who

mostly have very humble means and I wonder at why they would put their own immediate

families in debt.. I know for a fact that some would give a $1000.00 kusaga and yet rely on

welfare to feed their kids, the same kids who come to school wearing worn and ragged

clothes and have no school supplies… Of course in order to pull off these huge productions …

on top of asking every Tom, Dick, and Harry they are related to to put in … $500, $1000 or

more. Why? Why? Why? Not only has he put himself in debt but everyone else who put in

may also have accrued debts so that they can put in the unreasonable amount of money

requested for kusaga…Giving, sharing, helping our families in times of fa’alavelave are all

good things. I wouldn’t want to ever see that go away. It is part of what makes us who we

are but it needs to be done responsibly or it can get out of hand like I’ve seen on too many

occasions.10

10 Extract from “Daughters of Samoa” Internet site post titled, “Sao ga mea” by thesamaonwoman, 19 October, 2007 http://samoanwoman.wordpress.com/2007/10/19/sao-ga-mea/

118 A recent report commissioned by Consumer Affairs in New Zealand listed “to fulfil family, cultural or church commitments” as one of the top three reasons offered by Pacific Islanders for taking loans, with Samoans mentioned specifically as “being under pressure to find money for fa’alavelave, whether in

New Zealand or back in Samoa” (Auckland University Centre for Pacific

Studies 2007). The report also stressed that many study participants, despite the higher interest rates, preferred to borrow from fringe lenders (over banks or even finance companies) because of ease of access to “instant cash” and, furthermore, as expressed by one study participant below, were generally offered additional loans once they had a good credit rating:

[The Finance Company] lends money when you need it urgently – say if you need $200 or

$300 – then they will give you that money and you have to pay the loan off within a month.

Recently when we were on holiday and money ran out, we...borrowed $300 from this lender

and we used that money to buy the children things during the Christmas and New Year

break and we paid that off within a month at $93 a week. Now the girl is ringing us and

saying we can come back and borrow some more money because we have paid off the loan on

time. That's the same situation with [another fringe ender] because we have borrowed from

[this fringe lender] several times before because so long as you pay the loan regularly they

will always be able to lend us money. The repayments for our loans with [Finance

Company] are deducted automatically from my wages so payments are on time and regular.

Sometimes we may owe them $3000 or $4000 at any time but when we have a fa’alavelave

and we need to have access to money we would normally go to [Finance Company] and they

would normally top up our loan with them. We have been with [Finance Company] for

many years and while the interest rates are very high they are always very helpful when we

need to borrow money. (Auckland University Centre for Pacific Studies, survey participant,

2007)

Today it has reached the stage where people are not saving at all or worse,

119 they are losing their homes – there has been a reduction in home ownership by

Samoans in New Zealand from 55 per cent to 25 per cent in recent years

(Macpherson 2006). There is considerable talk also about young people in their working-prime suiciding because they are not able to meet the mounting debt obligation. Such stories were not uncommon during interviews with

Samoans living overseas. They were generally told in whispered tones, with a sense of shame and more than once a sense of hopelessness:

I have heard now a few stories where young men in California have … taken their own life

… shame. I guess because they couldn’t handle the pressure of fa’alavelave. Most likely they

were trying to get ahead here and already in debt and then they got pushed just too far. They

feel shame and a sense that they have let everyone down. There is so much pride in being a

Samoan. Perhaps they had already turned to crime? I know something is going wrong

amongst we Samoans when I hear these stories … I am so worried for our youths...

(Faupepe, 57, USA)

Being forced to default on a mortgage or suicide is, admittedly, an extreme case. Unfortunately neither is uncommon. Moreover, both are indicative of a system of governance and social relations that is exceedingly vulnerable. Much has changed since the establishment of fa’aSamoa and fa’amatai thousand of years ago.

At Independence in 1962 Samoa adopted a Westminster-style system of government. This system is very similar to the one in Australia with two key exceptions. First, only matai are eligible to stand for election and, second, up until 1990 (when universal suffrage was finally adopted) only matai were eligible to vote. The point I would like to stress here is that this modified system was designed to reinforce the traditional village governance system that

120 had been in place for over 3,000 years. Despite the introduction of a notional

‘Western’ system of government the indigenous system, the fa’matai ‘way of the chiefs’, still plays a pivotal role in the governance of Samoa (Huffer and

So'o 2005: 311). The endurance of fa’matai, through the transforming eras of colonialism, neo-colonialism and more recently globalisation is considered more broadly as an indicator of the strength, vitality and validity of the system

(Huffer and So'o 2003: 281). Each Samoan family has a matai; this chief being the political representative of the family, having been bestowed with title by the ‘aiga and thus becoming the custodian of the family’s land and property

(Anae 1998). Generally a council of chiefs governs each village. There will be different rankings within these chiefs – some will be known as ‘foundation chief’, they are the ones who ‘own’ the village. Foundation chiefs can be tamali’i (high chiefs) or tulafale, (orators) and then there are the lesser matai

(Huffer, Soo’o, 2003: 285). Collectively the matai take care of the village.

Business is conducted in a faletele (or big house/meeting house) and despite the proliferation of palagi style houses each village will have a number of faletele.

Figure 10: A typical faletele in a village setting in Samoa (Source: Author)

121 To a large extent the faletele has been replaced in the diaspora. The logistics of residing in a suburban centre rather than a village would dictate this in the first instance. Moreover, without the village11 there is no need for a village meeting place or village council. In homes in the diaspora the formal lounge room is where meetings are held, where important cultural, social or religious guests are ‘entertained’; many of my interviews were conducted in versions of these rooms for instance. Of course they vary in nature but generally they are a shrine to the key things important to the fa’aSamoan system – faith, family, custom, and land/home/village. The photograph below displays a wall in one such room; typically, the other walls displayed photographs of family members and the village of origin in Samoa. The persistence of such a meeting place both acknowledges and facilitates the on-going centrality of fa’aSamoa and fa’amatai in contemporary Samoan lives.

Figure 11: A formal lounge room in which an interview was conducted (Source: Author)

11 There is a position, put elsewhere in this thesis, that the church in the diaspora has replaced the village. This being the case the church has arguably replaced the faletele to at least some degree also. Notwithstanding this a formal meeting place, outside of the church, has evolved along side of the church. It would be feasible to argue that its purpose it not purely cultural, that is ministers are entertained in these rooms also. It is important, however, to remember that ministers and religion are fully entrenched in the fa’aSamoa system.

122 Despite this obviously successful adaptation the system did evolve in a close- knit ‘closed’ village system. Indeed, the whole village structure is based around the fa’matai. A useful model to explain this system was created by a scholar named Fana’afi. Fana’afi created the “’sociometric wheel’ in which the matai are the hub of a group of five interlocking and overlapping circles that are based on blood ties and marital reciprocity. In this system all persons in the village know where they fit and what behaviour is required of them in all circumstances, which, in turn, leads to a sense of security, purpose and pride.”

(Cited in Huffer and So'o 2005: 320). However, as has been argued by others, this model was only correct when the system was ‘contained’. In contemporary

Samoa changes, such as the introduction of universal suffrage, provide an element through which youth, for example, ‘escape or are pulled out’. The system is no longer closed for many other reasons, the rate of emigration and transnational links being central to this thesis. So today, while fa’matai strives to maintain the relationship between the circles in the socio-metric model intact, it is fighting against forces that are pulling members away from the circle.

Notwithstanding the aforementioned ranking amongst chiefs, the system was considered egalitarian. For example, pule, or authority, remains the property of the collective. In other words it is entrusted to the matai but if abused, it will be removed (Kamu, cited in So’o 2005: 320). Moreover, as mentioned earlier fa’aSamoa and fa’matai rely on everyone knowing their place and having ‘pride’ in that place. Having this sense of pride is related to an “egalitarian spirit”.

Generally there would seem to be a conflict between ‘a complex hierarchy of

123 titles’ and an absence of class distinction. Yet, reputedly, “every ‘aiga has its chief and thus its dignity, and in the classificatory kinship terminology every

Samoan is the son or daughter of a chief” (Keene, cited in Soo: 323). In summary every person knew their place in the system and, it would appear, felt pride in their place and contribution. It is represented then as a system that was well balanced and served the people well.

The collective matai, were described to me by a participant as, “commander and chief” of the system. Significantly, the framework of fa’aSamoa contains both spiritual and practical elements; both ‘administered’ through fa’amatai.

The practical side is the most publicly accessible, ‘visible’ and thus easily understood. It provides the organisational structure, lends its members a sense of identity and meets the social needs of the group. It is also where the cycle of reciprocity is managed. The everyday role of the matai is akin to taking care of the family business - allocating roles, ensuring compliance with village norms, and, importantly, allocating resources. It is very much a leadership role; it is where the management and ‘fiscal’ work is done. The demise of clearly defined village boundaries has resulted in an increase in complexity of this, the resource management component, of fa’amatai. In other words, the time, skills and resources required to manage the ‘everyday’ from the matai have grown exponentially. It would be easy to argue then that it was a matter of overstretched resources that resulted in the other side of the fa’amatai system – the spiritual – reducing in priority. Indeed this is likely, at least in part, true.

However, there is something ‘deeper’ at work here. It relates to the relative weight that is given to the importance of the two roles, importance that is

124 based on the significance of each amongst contemporary Samoans. I use the expression ‘it is more than just the envelope’ later in this paper to describe the financial contribution (placed in an envelope for distribution during ceremony) that adult children give upon request from their parents. I come back to it here because it fits this discourse so aptly. The ‘envelope’ does not contain the knowledge of the ancestral network that fa’amatai is also responsible for. It can only contain the money, that is, it relates directly and only to the fiscal. Yet, it is often the only aspect that is visible to or understood by many in the diaspora, particularly those second or third generations overseas born Samoans. The ancestral-marker or spiritual side of the system is loosing relevance, arguably, because its bearing is no longer realised ‘in the every day’. There is no apparent conscious intent, however, to deny the importance of ancestral knowledge or its importance. When it comes to disputes centred on title bestowal or land ownership, for instance, it is recognised as being of paramount consequence. Likewise, it is the connection to the ancestral spirit that enables discussions around issues of importance, or as Morgan Tuimaleali’fano affirms, “Titles define the space in which we

[Samoans] can talk about fa’aSamoa.“ (2005) Meaning that it is the connection to the ancestral pathway integrated in titles that enables issues of upmost cultural relevance, such as adaptations and modifications, to be discussed.

Such a discussion may resolve around whether a title should be split, which is clearly exemplified in the Muagututia case study that follows. In summary, both the leadership or management role and the spiritual space created by the ancestral connections form two sides of the one system. There is a good deal of

125 concern, however, amongst titled Samoans that the latter, is being, at worse, forgotten or at best, neglected, particularly in the diaspora.

4.1.1 A System Out Of Balance?

Contemporary pressure has undeniably affected ‘The Samoan Way’. Arguably the system has tipped out of balance and the consequences are many and far ranging. I am, however, in this section interested in one particular set of attitudinal and behaviour change – that set of changes that have resulted in the once highly converted position of matai being undermined. This de or re- valuing has come about for a number of reasons. Firstly there has been a proliferation of matai. Where once in a village you may have had 10-12 matai that figure could have today increased to 50-60. The latest estimate is that there are now some 130,000 matai (So'o 2005). Even when you take into account that some individuals hold 6 or 7 titles this is still a lot of matai. This proliferation has come about for a number of reasons the most pertinent of which being the above mentioned ‘matai- suffrage’, that is, only matai could vote in general government elections. This resulted in the creation of many matai as families and villages sought to influence this new powerful system of governance. Secondly the position of matai had to be earnt through many years of service to one’s extended family. These days it is possible to receive a title because of ones status and earning capacity outside of the village system.

As one respondent said, “Now people have dollars so they can get a matai title easily: Go to Samoa, take along lots of money, hold a feast, and become a matai!“ (Lucky, 54, Auckland, New Zealand). Both of these reasons have resulted in a ‘devaluing’ of ‘matai’, making it, in some cases, less in demand.

126 In addition to this there is strong evidence that the burden of responsibility carried by matai has increased. Contemporary discussions amongst matai are more complicated with the financial resources involved, in particular, multifaceted and more important. Matai today, for example, are likely to be managing transnational finances. Moreover, titles are being split across in an attempt to manage the network of kin and resources. In other words, the position of matai is gaining in sophistication and the stakes are higher than at any other time since colonial occupation. Subsequently, there are considerable outside pressures on the whole sociometric village wheel – pressures that are pulling people away from participating in the system. Land was central to the whole economic system – managing which is the more obvious and omnipresent component of fa’matai. Reportedly high status was not equated with particular economic privilege in Samoa. Rather it has been land, the resource needed for basic wellbeing, which was considered of utmost importance. Status aside, as the common expression in Samoa goes, ‘all

Samoans are gardeners and planters and proud of their fields’. While this may still be true ‘at heart’ the reality today is that Samoans are increasingly moving away from rural dwellings. Not unlike the majority of the rest of the world they are ever increasingly choosing an urban existence – be that in Apia the capital of Samoa or further a field in Auckland, Sydney or Los Angeles. I would contend that the ‘egalitarian spirit’ is fading. Economic equity is fast disappearing in Samoan. Samoans are adopting an ethos of individualism, albeit partially out of necessity in order to compete in a neo-liberalised world, and moving away from the ‘collective’ strongly associated with traditional

127 Samoan existence. An egalitarian spirit was necessary in order for people to feel ‘security, purpose and pride’ and to be content living in a ‘closed’ society where individualism fades in deference to the collective. In order to not only

‘fit-in’ to this system but to ‘get-on’ in the system in the hope that one day they would assume position of authority themselves people had to accept the system. Changes such as the introduction of universal suffrage and access to wage labour mean that people are today freer to express individual aspiration and seek status elsewhere. There is a good deal of well-founded doubt about whether the next generation will be interested in becoming matai or in fa’aSamoa at all. It is doubtful that they would want the responsibility or obligations. Generally speaking their desires are much more individualistic and they tend to be interested in their immediate family, not the extended. It is clear also that people can gain power and status through other means including money, a job or a position in the church. The position of church secretary, for example, is a highly respected position that attracts privilege, status and opportunity without the burden associated with being matai.

4.2 Fa’amatai: from the Spiritual to the Fiscal?

I was asked: How can you come back and lay claim to the family title, you are Chinese, you

are Fijian, you are Indian? But that is us Samoans, we do that! That is our custom, that is

our fa’aSamoa. Isn’t it great! You know, we cry, we fight, we kill each other, then we cry and

then we are back together … until the next court case! (Tuimaleali'ifano 2005) 12

12 Extract from a story told by Dr Morgan Tuimaleali’ifano during a presentation at ANU, 27 October 2005. The man he was telling the story about was Indian Fijian with a Fijian father and a Samoan mother of Chinese extraction. His mother came from a high orator family in a village just outside of Apia, Samoa. After the Fijian coup of 1999 he had fled Fiji to return to Samoa to lay claim to the family matai title. After six years of battling with another family faction his side of the family had won the right to the title through the court system

128 Fundamental to this thesis is the exploration of social transformation in contemporary Samoa, but how does one assess ‘social transformation’? One of the primary means that I am employing is to ‘operationalise’ that change, in other words, to examine and document those things that we can see changing.

The position of matai is clearly pivotal to the whole fa’amatai governance system and hence fa’aSamoa. It is also, most obviously, in a current state of rapid transformation and hence threat. For this reason I have chosen to concentrate here on the position of matai. Hence, in this section I will continue the examination of the title and changes to its substance, number and roles since the onset of post-war migration; in doing so I will exemplify some of these issues by looking closely at this one key indicator of cultural transformation. The issues considered include, the public verses private face of fa’aSamoa, who the ‘keepers’ of the culture are, and the complex web of social relations across the diaspora and the customary adaptations that are occurring in response to these adaptations.

I will be using three case studies from my research: case study 1), Morgan

Tuimalealii’fano, case study 2) Manguatia and case study 3) I’iga Siaosi Vui.

Each of them is an ali’i or high chief; their particular stories have been chosen because they illustrate the challenges and transformations that this section is concerned with. While the stories do have elements in common they also show differences; differences in regards to the journeys each has taken and in the place they each reside. All were born in Samoa but only one, Manguatia, remains on the island. The others reside in the diaspora, Morgan in Fiji and

Siaosi in the USA.

129 4.2.1 Morgan Tuimaleasli’ifo’s Story

“New Zealand was my oyster, my world, Samoa was my past, not my reality anymore...”

Migration Story

In 1963, the eldest of his siblings at the age of eight, Morgan left his village home of Falilatai, at the end of the airport road, on the island of Upolu, Samoa bound for Wellington, New Zealand. He recalls being dressed in his best finery for the occasion but, as a child, having no real idea as to what “the plan was for him”. He was escorted on his trip by two matai from his village (who had just themselves returned from New Zealand to a attend a funeral). He recollects being excited “until he got onto the plane” when the reality that he was the one waving goodbye really hit him. Their first stop was the international airport in Pago Pago, American Samoa; it was at this point he truly realised he was leaving Samoa. Seeking comfort, he took out a transistor radio that had been a present from an aunt, to try and pick up Radio AP (Apia). He managed to pick up a very slight signal only and, by the time he tried again in their next stopover, Nadi, Fiji, of course he could not hear anything. He cannot remember if he cried then, but he does recall that, “the world got very very quiet”. The first stop in New Zealand was Auckland and it was here that he met the aunt and uncle who, as it turned out, he would live with for the next nine years. The grand uncle in Wellington who had paid his fare was very sad that his trip had been cut short in Auckland; in fact it was another two years before he finally got to complete his journey and join his grand uncle for a visit in Wellington. This pattern of attending primary and then secondary school in Auckland and spending his holidays in Wellington continued until he and his grand uncle finally got their wish and he attended his last year of high school in Wellington. There was a good deal of contrast between the life he led in Auckland and that which he enjoyed in Wellington. His grand uncle was a bachelor who also had other older nieces and others from Samoa living with him; you get the sense that this was an interesting place to live at the very least. Moreover, this home afforded him much more freedom than his uncle and aunt’s home in Auckland, there was “greater love”, he had more liberty to explore and more spending money; all important items for a growing boy! His life in Auckland was much more regimented; life was very confined with no open spaces to explore, with no malanga (journeys). In Auckland his movements were restricted – for the most part he only got to go between two houses in the same urban block. His uncle rented both properties, one for the immediate family and the other for transient workers who had come from Samoa for employment. Life in Auckland was very fa’aSamoa too, albeit changed to meet the new urban reality of their lives, with “cash as the major determinant”. As part of fa’aSamoa they visited other families and “of course there was the ubiquitous church every Sunday!” They attended the PICC (Pacific Island ) along side other Pacific Islanders. The morning service was in English yet with a strong “Pacific flavour” because the hymns were in a variety of languages. In the afternoon there were specific-

130 nationality services.

Life for Morgan in Auckland was not satisfactory and by the age of 16 or 17 he “was almost uncontrollable”. He recalls “walking the fine line between the crocked and the straight” and experimenting with the possibility of gang affiliation – there had been contact with gang members. At this time he had a motorbike and was “desperate to run away”. Looking back now he does not know where he was intending to go, he was just “... going to ride, turn up the music and follow the wind...” Unfortunately for him at the time, his parents in Samoa got word of this and there were phone calls and a telegram saying, “There was a plane [back to Samoa] to catch!” This was very hard for him. He felt disappointment in having to return to Samoa, he was now a “Kiwi, a New Zealander ... [yes] a New Zealand-Samoan, [but] not a Samoan- Samoan.” He was used to the egalitarian life in New Zealand, where he was “just one of the crowd” and you had to make of yourself what you would in the world. And he was very used to the freedom. By contrast life on the island was very controlled, there were many sanctions, the collective very powerful – “like a corporation”. In addition it was very hierarchical and he was from a privileged family, which meant there were expectations; all of this caused much angst. He ended up spending the Christmas holidays with his parents in Samoa at which time he was able to convince them that he did not want to continue living in Auckland and, as a result, they gave permission for him to move to Wellington.

It was 1973 when he went to live with his grand uncle in Wellington and he still has warm memories of that time. His grand uncle’s house was always full of people travelling back and forth to Samoa; in this way his grand uncle was fulfilling part of his obligations back to his family on the island. In addition to sending cash remittances back to his sister (Morgan’s grandmother) his grand uncle paid for the fares of many who came to Wellington, and of course he supplied them with their first home and food when they arrived. He had been doing this since his own arrival in Wellington in 1954; since then he had worked in a stocking (hosiery) factory. Upon reflection Morgan thinks his grand uncle was happy, happy because he was able to support others, meet his own fa’aSamoa obligations and also assist those back on the island to fulfil theirs.

Despite his own happiness in Wellington he realises now that the liberty he enjoyed there was the very thing that frightened his parents back home – they disliked the free reign, the great love, lack of discipline and were convinced that “it would be the ruin of him if he stayed with him [grand uncle]!” As it turned out he was only to spend a year in Wellington anyway. In 1974 he travelled to Fiji to attend the University of the South Pacific (USP) under an Australian Government Scholarship. After the completion of his degree he commenced working as an administration assistant at USP and started picking up his (fa’aSamoa) financial obligations to his brothers and sisters and his mother who were all still in Samoa. He recalls that he was “aware of his obligations all along, but [only] become conscious of them after.”

131 Assuming a title

In 1974 his father died and the pressure for him to assume his father’s high-ranking matai title became apparent. He was at this time 21, in his second year at university and was faced with “the big choice, to stay at uni or return and play the big chief!” He clearly remembers not feeling ready at all to assume the title, but regardless, aligned with his family’s wishes, he was installed with the title in 1975. There was a challenge to the title bestowal from another faction in the family, however, and so the matter ultimately went to court13. The court decided he was not ready and recommended it go to an older cousin, but it went to his (older) nephew, aged 57 at the time. So while he was originally bestowed with the title it was rescinded when the court appointed his nephew. He remembers that the matter “broke his mother’s heart” because she wanted the title to stay in his father’s direct family line.

He graduated from USP in 1977. He has never lived back in Samoa although he does visit every year, sometimes through work and other times on holidays. From 1984 – 87 he resumed study, which is when he got interested in migration, it is the subject of his own doctorate and subsequent book. In 2002 he was installed with a title from his mother’s maternal grandfather’s village of Salelologa, Savaii. His father’s title is still with his nephew and will be until he dies. At that stage “there will be another round of discussions … all the branches will come together … names will be put forward and discussed.” I asked him whether he felt ready to assume his father’s title – his response was that “he feels he has the wisdom now, but perhaps not the energy!”

4.2.2 Muagututia’s story

“Yes [Deb], I am now the chief of the family. It is a big job. … It’s a huge responsibility, especially when you are the selected chief of the extended family; you are responsible for the people of the family, land and all family assets. The wellbeing of the family members.”14

Growing up

Muagututia is the third of four children; his father, like his grandfather, also held the Muagututia title. He was born in a rural village in 1951. He grew up in the village until such time as he went away to Apia (capital of Samoa) for school at the age of 15. After, while working for the Government at the Statistics Department, he was awarded a two year Fellowship as part of the Government In-Service Program for Public Servants to study Population Science at the International Institute for Population Studies (IIPS), Bombay,

13 When there is such an impasse, where the families cannot make a decision regarding a title, the matter is referred to the Lands and Title Court to make a determination. Once factions would have fought it out, they would have gone to war, but now such cases are settled through the courts. This is why the court was established, to avoid war and bloodshed.

14 Extract taken from an email from the interviewee to myself, 20 March, 2008

132 India. Through IIPS, he was introduced to ANU, and then in 1991-1992 attended the Australian National University and successfully graduated with a M.A in Demography.

At the age of 26 he married and went on to have four children, three girls and one boy. Two daughters now live in New Zealand; the other two children remain living with their parents in Samoa. Through the New Zealand-Samoa immigration quota system his two eldest girls have secured permanent residency in New Zealand. It is expected that both will gain citizenship and New Zealand passports by the end of this year (2008). Once the daughters have citizenship they will apply for New Zealand residency status for their parents under the family reunion program in New Zealand. Despite this, Muagututia is not looking to become a resident of New Zealand. It would, however, mean that he and his wife could visit for extended periods of time. He is quick to stress that “Samoa will always be home [physically and emotionally]” and that he has dreams about his future life in Samoa.

According to Muagututia “he grew up from poor parents as far as material wealth is concerned”. He started earning regular cash income when he got his first government job in 1972, recalling it as being “a great feeling when I received my first fortnightly salary in the amount of ST$19.00, now equivalent to AUST$8 Australian dollars”. He recalls that, “the $19 tala 35 years ago was enough to buy many many things you needed”. He remembers that his father used to come to the office from the village on payday for some money to buy food and other goods they needed. He looked forward greatly to these visit because it gave him the opportunity not only to contribute directly to his family’s wellbeing but also because he could ask after his parent’s welfare. He was concerned because at the time they were looking after his eldest brother’s children (three nieces plus a nephew), despite the fact that they were over 60 years old. A regular part of his life at the time was to leave the capital Apia, where his job was, every weekend to go home to the village “to see my parents and my extended family”. This commitment to the welfare of his family and the village has never faded; it is central to his cultural position in Samoa. Despite his responsibilities becoming more obvious and arduous as he entered adulthood he reflects that, “the importance of my extended family welfare had slowly taken over my heart and was already implanted in my heart and is still intact.” An obligation so strong, however, does come at a high price. While he clearly enjoyed his father’s visits to his workplace with pride he also spoke about the pressure he felt, “The feeling of being responsible to and for something or for people gradually became obvious, especially so when my father visited me at the office every Government payday on a fortnightly basis, for some money to buy some foods or little things they need during the two week period for them at the village. The increasing demand for more money against my normal fortnightly salary became greater and greater.”

An opportunity to migrate

He recollects being torn between his obligations to his extended family and “my priority which was my [nuclear] family.” It was a difficult decision to make but around this time he “opted to pursue an opportunity to migrate to New Zealand”. The welfare and the future of his nuclear

133 family, and having enough financial resources for “everyone” were the most critical push factors behind the move to migrate to New Zealand. He wanted to establish his family in New Zealand, but always knew that he would return to Samoa. Thus, he never doubted that, even if he did migrate, he would, “Still get the unanimous support and consent of my extended family to be the [Muagututia] titleholder.” In the end his migration to New Zealand did not occur. The New Zealand government did approve his application but put (unacceptable) restrictions on who of his family he could take with him. In so doing, “he was insulted and said he would never go now”15.

Title bestowal

The Muagututia title is in fact the second of his matai titles. In 1982, because of “good service to his wife’s family”, the Chiefs and Orators of her extended family agreed to give him a matai title from their village in Savaii16. The Muagututia tile is, however, the higher of the two titles and therefore the one that he is now primarily known by.

From the time that his father became Chief of the Family, he knew right away “that one day he too would be appointed by the extended family to be the Head of the Muagututia clan (extended family). I was all along absolutely sure that the whole extended family would appoint me as the Trustee/Head of the family one-day”. While this did in fact became a reality in 2007, when “hundreds and hundreds of chiefs and orators gathered in the village for the bestowal ceremony”, it did not occur without serious delays.

The bestowal was meant to go ahead one year earlier in December 2006. There was, however, an objection from a third cousin in New Zealand, who wanted the title to be split between his brother and Muagututia. On the basis of the title’s ancestry, there were four apparent heirs but no one from his cousin’s family line that held the title; they were now lobbying for equity. He recalls that, “reasonable and perfect justifications had been presented [by my cousin].” Muagututia was keen for a peaceful solution (without going to court, which had happened in the past). The majority of family still live in Samoa, however, and “despite a trend to split titles across the diaspora”, in this case they always thought that the title-holder would live in Samoa.

In addition, history revealed that the Muagututia title had never been held by any two individuals simultaneously. Muagututia described this information as, “A foundation carefully prepared, thought about and designed by my great, great grandparents. I believe this foundation was put in place as a Constitution to guide the family when they decide for a new titleholder. It is sacred and forbidden.

15 As noted earlier, however, his two eldest daughters have successfully made the transition to New Zealand. Despite his own disappointments he has been very supportive of their relocation. Moreover, it is definitely viewed as offering strategic opportunities for the whole family.

16 This is not an unusual situation; in fact it is not unknown for matai to hold six or seven titles.

134 It is a taboo and no one is allowed to change it. Any changes in the foundation are subject to the consensus of the whole extended Family.”

Muagututia himself at this point was faced with a hard decision. After his family's original decision to "honour" him with their unanimous approach for him to assume the title [alone], he accepted it with “many thanks and gratitude” promising in return to “serve my family with all my strength, courage and dignity”. However he now needed to consider how to advise his family in regard to the issue of splitting the title. He knew that “only one authority could change the Family Constitution and that is the complete consensus of the extended family”. This being the case he took the decision to his family, which he says was “very difficult”. He pleaded for their understanding “in logically accessing the merits of the suggested change”, stating, “God has given me the light, the information to support this [the title split]. Now our family has grown there are many people in the family and I think it is time to have more than one person with the responsibility”. After taking ‘unofficial’ advice from the registrar of the court, the family eventually agreed to split the title. The wisdom behind this decision is that this ‘co-chief ‘ can talk to the family in NZ and help gather resources that may be needed by those back in Samoa. Muagututia evokes the centrality of religion to fa’aSamoa when he concludes, “In the end, God’s Spirit helped us all to accept the change as proposed.”

Two days before the bestowal ceremony the extended family from Samoa and New Zealand gathered in the village. Muagututia described this time as “a very very happy moment” with the family gathered in the village that means so much to them all; they live together and talk and catch-up. The official component of the bestowal ceremony on the 27 December 2007 was, in contrast, brief; it went from 8 to 9 am only. According to Muagututia this reflects a “new way of saving time and the amount of money outlaid”. That is, rather than investing in a lot of time and money in food or traditional gifts such as fine mats, people now prefer to concentrate on distributing “cash only”. The ceremony was, typically, divided into two sections. The first and longest was the conducting of a religious service by two church pastors. Following “The Christian Way” came the traditional bestowal, which was conducted according to custom by a high-ranking “Talking (or Paramount) Chief”. The distribution of cash gifts to the Pastors, the Paramount Chief and to a group of chiefs and orators from neighbouring villages followed the bestowal. Muagututia estimates that ST$30,000 () was distributed in gifts alone on the day; that is equivalent to about $15,000 Australian dollars. The money was raised by his extended family, mostly in Samoa, but contributions came in from New Zealand too.

Muagututia describes being a matai of this status as; “Being the caretaker of the family, including land, titles, people and all family assets … it is like a ministerial appointment. It has changed my life in so many ways. The way I behave, speak, make decisions, mixed around, behave, etc, etc. It is all of the changes that I need to adjust myself to. I always feel judged and looked at. There is a lot of pressure over big issues, particularly land issues - you have to decide wisely. It takes a lot of time and energy and resources!”

135 4.2.3 I’iga Vui Siaosi’s story

“ …And I hope my wisdom from living elsewhere will assist, so that they [Samoans in Samoa] will not be crushed by the movement of time.”

Siaosi, like every Samoan I met in the diaspora, is proud of his Samoan heritage. He was born in 1944 in the village of Pu’apua, on the island of Savaii. He recalls a childhood with his extended family, realising now, that even then as a young boy, he was being prepared to one day assume his (then) grandfather’s high chief title. He remembers malaga journeys with his grandfather, from a time before there were roads or electricity, when they would walk from village to village. They would stop along the way and the matai would meet in the faletele to talk family genealogy. As he sat and listened they all learnt, remembered and taught each other. In this way the ancestry information was past down through the generations. As he told these stories he related them to the importance of mobility (he refers to Samoans as a “travelling people” more than once during our conversation) and the oral learning tradition. Later in the conversation he stressed how such practices were lost today, how younger people press him to write everything down about genealogy. He also laments how they miss the day- to-day learning about the simpler yet important things to do with the land, the sea and resources, for example knowing that the right time to catch certain fish is when a particular flower is blooming.

A convoluted journey

Today Siaosi, along with his American wife Marsha Anne Talitimu, lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA and runs the Polynesian FiaFia (dance) troop. The by-line for the group is “Simply Delightful Entertainment of Hawai’i and The South Pacific”. Siaosi directs Polynesian FiaFia; he is also a musician, vocalist, Master of Ceremony, drummer and fire dancer with the group.

Performance is, according to Siaosi, “in his blood”. He stressed its importance to his culture and mentioned his father’s song writing. His late father, who was a Speaker of the House of Parliament in Samoa, was renowned for his song composing ability – Samoan songs that are still performed in Samoa and anywhere Polynesians gather throughout the world (International Institute for Indigenous Resource Management). It was this legacy of entertaining that initially took him away from Samoa. Siaosi first left Samoa as part of a Catholic sponsored youth dancing group that travelled all over the world to Catholic churches – “like a pilgrimage” as Siaosi described it. Then in the 1970s, on behalf of Samoa, he choreographed and directed a fundraising tour that was to take in Europe, the USA and other islands. In his career he has danced for Pope John Paul II, Prince Charles and at the Whitehouse. His dancing was what eventually led him to settle in the USA where he married and formed Polynesia FiaFia.

136 A man of status (wearing many hats)

I’iga Vui Siaosi is a clearly an influential man. In addition to his celebrated performing he is also heavily involved in the and now also has a public face as a fundraiser come ‘property developer’. He holds two matai titles from the island of Savaii, the first, “Vui”, from the region of Lano and the second, the high chief title, “I’iga”, from his grandfather’s village of Pu’apua. One cannot help but be impressed by the way he bridges these many worlds, as the following illustrates, “High Chief Iiga Vui Siaosi Talitimu Polynesian High Chief Siaosi has a unique love of the Eucharist and is a member of the Eucharistic Apostles of The Divine Mercy in Denver. He has composed a number of songs and uses music and testimony in his ministry as a Catholic Lay Evangelist” (St. Thomas Aquinas Society). The Catholic Church is a fundamental part of Siaosi’s life. He spoke to me about fundraising to build new facilities on behalf of the Catholic Archdiocese in Apia, Samoa and he is a regular entertainer and youth leader with the church in and around his hometown in Colorado. He also features (photograph follows) on the website of the Divine Mercy in Samoa, where they proudly boost that “Even High Chief Iiga Vui Siaosi Talitamu is a Eucharistic Apostle of the Divine Mercy!” Please see print copy for image

I’iga title bestowal

137 The story of Siaosi assuming his grandfather’s high chief title from the village of Paupua, is captured in a film titled “Iiga Siaosi An Initiation of a Samoan Chief”. In 1999 when the bestowal was being organised Siaosi contacted Professor Paul Shankman17 in the Anthropology Department at the University of Colorado in Boulder, to ask him if he could arrange to have the ceremony recorded on video. Professor Shankman was fortunately able to arrange both a student to do the recording and some of the funding required to make it possible. The film commences with the words "Ua logo le fu'a ma le pa'o" (the rustle of the banners and the beating of the drums were heard), which is a Samoan proverb meaning that a certain event is to be known to everyone. It is both a dramatic and useful way to introduce a ceremony, to inform everyone that attendance is required.

As is an increasingly common practice now amongst Samoans the title that Siaosi was bestowed with in 1999 was split across the diaspora – in this case in three - with one matai in Upolu (the other main island of Samoa on which the capital, Apia, lies), one in Savaii and one, Siaosi, in the USA. Siaosi argues that this demonstrates a strategic adaptation on the behalf of Samoans; his family, like many others, have learnt to be flexible in the face of change. Indeed, Siaosi’s links to the western world are cited as one of the three reasons that he was bestowed, the other two being his honesty and integrity and his natural ability as a leader. Siaosi’s thank you speech during the ceremony at the bestowal acknowledges these links when he says, “So that we may have strength, wisdom and courage, and above all else love ... so that we may serve this village, this country, and above all God..." and "I hope my wisdom from living elsewhere will assist - so that they [Samoans in Samoa] will not be crushed by the movement of time.”

Unquestionably Siaosi’s overseas links are about access to modernity, particularly power, status, resources and knowledge. He has the ability to access not only funds from his extended Samoan and American family in the USA but from other sources, such as the church. This is perhaps demonstrated nowhere better than through his property development efforts via the Internet site ‘Samoasales.com’. The photograph of Siaosi that features on the website projects him as a powerful and influential man:

17 Professor Paul Shankman has been researching Samoa since the 1970s. His books include the 1976 publication Migration and Underdevelopment - The Case of Western Samoa, and in 1993 The Samoan Exodus; both are considered pivotal works on development and cultural transformation in Samoa.

138 Please see print copy for image

Siaosi discussed with me how the people of Pa’upua village want to develop some of their land as a tourist resort. He spoke about inappropriate development proposals that they had considered in the past and how he had spoken against these. He also spoke of the strength of the blessing he now has from the villagers to control future development. His rights and responsibilities, as a bestowed high chief of the village, mean that “he can, should and does” play an active role in any future development of the village. Under the title ‘Investment Opportunity’ it states on Samoasales.com; “Chief I'iga Siaosi Talitimu is interested in the future of his people and home land, the Big Island of Savaii in Samoa. For years he has had the vision of fulfilling his predestined call and inherited responsibility as chief of his people, to bring about a better way of life. In the past any (sic) have tried to invest in Samoa and have failed due to the strong tribal ties to the land. One vote from a tribal member could thwart the success of the development of the land. This opportunity is different. The people have spoken and given Chief I'iga the complete freedom to successfully complete the development of this site.”

The same website stresses that the government of Samoa have also given ‘their blessing’ to Siaosi and the development, stating that they “promise to cooperate with investing corporation to create a sure success for the future of Samoa.” Siaosi stresses the need for the economic growth of his village and Savaii as a whole, and claims that this development will be in keeping with the natural beauty of the surrounding area and a chance to promote culture. Phase 1 of the proposed development is described as “a moderate 3 or 4 story motel”. As humble as this is obviously meant to sound, future project phases include “a world class golf course, all price point times shares nestled around the golf course, 5 star resort options and various dining and nightclub establishments tied to the Polynesian cultural center with retail sales and cultural

139 entertainment.” When I raised concerns about the impact of any tourist development, no matter how small, on this relatively isolated village in Savaii, Siaosi reiterated that development is needed in his village and it was up to him to make sure that it was not too large or badly located, and that the control over the project remains with the village.

It is clear from our conversation that Siaosi is both committed to and enthusiastic about the things he believes, it is equally clear however that with his status and power comes significant burden and sacrifice. He takes his leadership role very seriously but he does not always make the popular or easiest choice of action, however. One such example he gave was when a relative died back on the island. He was under considerable pressure to travel to Savaii to attend the funeral and contribute to fa’alavelave expenses. He chose to do neither. Like many Samoans in the diaspora he too is concerned about the proliferation of fa’alavelave and the resources consumed. He decided that the best way that he could “demonstrate true chiefly leadership” was to break the cycle on this occasion. It was not a popular decision. He hastened to add that he would not have made the same decision if the relationship he had with the person that passed away had been important culturally. In this circumstance, however, he felt that his presence was ‘required’ purely because of the resources he could contribute.

These case studies provide us with the foundation from which to continue the discussion regarding cultural transformations, adaptations and the endurance, or otherwise of fa’aSamoa.

4.3 Points of Susceptibility: Fault Lines Appear

I LOVE MY ‘AIGA, BUT I HATE FA’ALAVELAVE!

Figure 12: Slogan on T-Shirt worn by Samoans in New Zealand (Source: Interviewee)

Morgan, Manguatia and Siaosi’s stories each illustrate the great pressure that

Samoa’s governance and social system is under. Pivotal elements of system- susceptibility have lead to this point of vulnerability. Key pressure points are discussed in earlier chapters; however, a précis at this point will facilitate later critique. Firstly, fa’aSamoa is founded on collectivism rather than individualism. That is to say that the collective – the ‘aiga - is paramount to the individual. Through fa’aSamoa people look to serve the matai and, also today,

140 their church minister. When people migrated in the post-war era and perhaps up until as late as the 1980s they did so in the service of their ‘aiga. It was a collective decision that they should go and their obligations were subsequently back to the collective. This, as discussed elsewhere, is in direct contrast to the motivation behind most migration in the developed world, where the decision to migrate is likely to be individual, or, at the most, based on the decision of a nuclear or ‘western-style’ extended family. This commitment to the collective however, no longer goes unchallenged. Samoans living in the diaspora have been exposed to the western ideal of individualism. Amongst the one-and-one- half and second generations in particular this attitude is now well acculturated.

This obviously presents challenges to an opposing cultural norm founded on collectivism. At the very least it means that young people are torn between the way of their elders and the dominant culture they now inhabit. The scenario that occurs when parents approach their adult children to be involved in a fa’alavelave illustrates this. Fa’alavelave, or the traditional practice of personal and family obligation requiring the distribution of both material and customary wealth, involves all members of ‘aiga. Accordingly, older members of the family have expectations that their children, nieces and nephews, will contribute both time and goods to the ceremony. Once, whereas this obligation would have been unquestioned, today its value is debated. Parents complain that their children are reluctant to assist, either by committing time or financial resources. More likely than not, when pushed, they will give some cash ‘for the envelope’18 but the time it takes to help prepare and participate in it is given

18 ‘The envelope’ is literally an envelope that contains the cash to be distributed. At any traditional event envelopes will be given to high-ranking officials – be they matai or ministers of religion. The giving of cash is now expected and

141 less often and with greater reluctance. The implications of this go deeper than a lack of human resources. As Cluny Macpherson stressed “it is more than just the envelope!” (Macpherson and Macpherson 2006), it is time, spirit and representation. What is lacking is the exposure to the full ceremony, to the speeches, to the lessons. Knowledge is lost and a culture becomes increasingly vulnerable.

There are, as previously alluded to, many other issues concerning second generation Samoans in the diaspora. By illustrating a reluctance to participate in fa’alavelave I have suggested a decreasing commitment to fa’aSamoa. Of course, this is not exclusive to one-and-one-half generation or second generation Samoans; there are many older Samoans who express the same cultural ambivalence. Such ambivalence means that many are now questioning the benefits of belonging to what is often considered a demanding culture; what people now perceive as the burden of responsibility without the benefits.

More specifically they are judging the balance harshly. That is, they may see the benefits but no longer see them as worth the burden:

It is just getting way too much. First everyone on the island wanted a handout for everything

and you know, in the beginning that was OK. But as we started to establish our life here we

needed the money. And now of course there is fa’alavelave both here and there! And these

things are not cheap. Some funerals cost over one hundred thousand dollars! At my uncles

funeral there was a whole [shipping] container of corn-beef, noodles, rice, chairs, lights, etc

and then there were all the cows to supply as well … plus cash! Salome, 36, Melbourne,

Australia

Anecdotal evidence suggests that this resentment is born out of two elements;

considered culturally normal, just like the distribution of fine mats is.

142 first people are certainly being ‘squeezed’ by the system but, second, people perceive that they can reap substitute benefits through their own efforts. Their framework for making such decision has of course altered from that of the previous generation – they are now much more likely to look to their peers to portray cultural norms rather than to their family or church. For instance, people may dismiss cultural practices or no longer perceive a need to participate. This is particularly true of fa’alavelave - if they do not see that they will need to call on such reciprocity themselves then they do not see the benefits the system affords them. If fa’alavelave is only seen as an exchange of resources, with the deeper connection to ‘aiga, culture, language and ancestry lost, then it is understandable that individuals will think that they do not need to participate. If they have good secure jobs, or access to government welfare payments, they can, for example, be more financially secure if they accumulate their own assets. They can also have control over how these assets are distributed – towards the purchase of a home, or toward schooling or training for example. In this way accumulated individual assets are replacing a pool of community resources. There is another danger here too, as argued by

McGrath, “Privileging values of kinship obligation and reciprocity creates an identity for members of a group that cares for its own.” (2002: 328) When people discard the cycle of reciprocity, the cornerstone of fa’alavelave, they are also risking the sense of identity and security that comes with belonging to such a strong family network.

These issues are of significant magnitude and by their very nature are of particular relevance to young Samoans born in the diaspora or those who

143 migrated when young. Detachment from fa’aSamoa is often reported. Fluency in the , for example, is repeatedly judged as indicative of a young person’s degree of connection. Those that are brought-up speaking

Samoan in the home, despite being born in the diaspora, or those who have migrated after learning Samoan as a their primary language on the island, are generally better equipped to straddle their two worlds. There are concerns however regarding the degree of literacy even if the language is spoken in the home.

We were brought up fluent in Samoan, but when we went to school, at the age of 4 or 5,

English was a new language ... it became Oh, Wow! ... We had been exposed to English but

only Samoan at home ... then [after learning English at school) it became that way that our

parents would speak to us in Samoan... and we’d understand, but instead of answering back

in Samoan, we’d answer in English ... once we went to school our parents were not so strict

with Samoan. ... I think we were brought up fa’aSamoan, but not as strict as other people. If

we were really fa’aSamoan we would not have been speaking English to our parents. ... a lot

of my first cousins they had to speak Samoan back and also were reading and writing

everything in Samoan, and we were [too] when we were young, but once we went to school I

think our parents thought, yer, it’s good, but it is important to learn English, so we are not

fluent writers and readers of Samoan. Tia, Apia, 37

This scenario is not uncommon amongst second-generation migrants; many young people have an understanding of their parent’s language but are reluctant to speak it once they have been exposed to English. The scenario described above, where parents speak Samoan and the children answer back in English, is quite common; it is generally only in very strict homes that

English is forbidden. What results is a ‘half-language’ whereby the children understand enough everyday Samoan ‘to get by’ but cannot speak the

144 language well enough to communicate with those who do not speak English.

They are even less likely to be able to read or write Samoan. The significance of this deepens during customary events when much of the communication is conducted in Samoan; young people cannot understand the speeches for example and they cannot speak to the older members of the group. This obviously results in discomfort for the youth themselves, perhaps anger amongst the elders and often shame for their parents. The situation may well escalate to one whereby young people refuse to attend such functions, thus, as discussed earlier, losing insight into the culture. To compound the situation parents may feel as if they have ‘failed’ in some way. This is a frustrating state, likely resulting in inter-generational tension. Parents may feel as if they have optimised access for their children to the benefits of the ‘west’, good education and better employment opportunities being the most commonly touted, but at a the cost of their cultural connections. For the youth they may feel as if “they can not win!” (Pina, 17, Apia)

This is a heavy burden that many families in the diaspora now bear. What is more, the evidence is strong that the fault-lines are deep. Youth disillusionment and unrest is high; gangs are common, as is involvement in both minor and, increasingly, violent crime. Unsolicited comments apropos youth crime were not uncommon during my research; it is of deep concern to both parents and the broader Samoan community. These concerns form the basis of the discourse in the final of the empirical chapters, Chapter 7, Youth culture: the state of ‘Inbetweenness. Notwithstanding the troubles discussed in this and later chapters there generally remains a deep-rooted faith in the fa’amatai

145 system and its ability to successfully navigate the Samoan people as it always has. This is quite remarkable and a suitable testimony to the perseverance of fa’aSamoa. As one participant stressed, “the ‘fa’amatai need to be flexible, this is the new wave of challenges, they have to be open minded and open to change

…” (Nickolas, Reverend, Auckland, 37). Another participant provided an example of how one group of matai had done just that:

In our village back home they have revised down the fa’alavelave and have reviewed down the

mourning period between death and burial from two-three weeks to a couple of days [so as to

reduce the expenses associated with feeding everyone who comes to stay in the village for

mourning], Loso, Tacoma, 51.

Another example of task of negotiating ‘home’ and ‘away’ formed part of a

Radio New Zealand International news broadcast posted in May 2009:

A village in Samoa has moved to ensure that there’s no shortage of taro while

their villages are working in orchards in New Zealand. A matai Falealili

and business Tuatagaloa Joe Annandale says workers recruited for New

Zealand’s Recognised Seasonal Employer Scheme, or RSE, have first to plant

5,000 taro for the villages. He says this is a requirement imposed by the village

council to ensure the village does not miss too much of the labour of their young

men who will be away for months on the RSE. Tuatagloa says care is being

taken to ensure there is some manpower left behind to maintain the taro

plantation and enough women to do the work of caring for their families and

carrying out village duties. (Radio New Zealand - Te Reo Irirangi o Aotearoa

2009)

While most people expressed the expectation that such flexible solutions can be found, faith that the matai have the skills required to negotiate through a period of significant change, the complexity lead others to express concern and

146 hope concurrently:

Fa’alavelave has become all about show here [in the USA], but in Samoa it is still

essentially more true to culture. That is why I say that the core elements of fa’aSamoa, the

core values – God, family, loyalty, willingness to help – the standards need to be kept in

Samoa. I just really hope that the foundation is strong enough, because we still look to them,

those matai back on the island, for leadership. Dan, Tacoma, 54

It was in the context of discussions around the ongoing role of matai that people also spoke about the changing role of youth and women. Some mentioned villages that had initiated “Youth Councils” so that young people can be included in decision-making. The wisdom regarding this move was often accredited to “progressive” or “modern” matai. As one participant put it,

“youth were getting out of hand in the village and we were worried for their futures, but we recognised that punishment was no longer working, so we decided to give them a voice” (Lenny, 34, Auckland). The contribution of women is being increasingly recognised too:

Women these days are being very proactive and development conscious – they are working

strong in the villages – economic and community development. [They are] Working to get

facilities for the village like sports gear for the youths, beautification of the village, better

schools and things like that. I’ve been very impressed with their organisation. This changing

role of women is a good thing, a positive thing to have come out of increased access to the

outside world. Things like CEDAW19 mean that women are more respected now. Women

now have dollars available to them. They are helping to find solutions. (‘Etu, 45, Auckland)

Essentially the key to fa’amatai continuing to provide leadership and maintain everyday relevance appears to be in its ability to be flexible, to ‘change with the times’. While most interviewees thought that this was achievable others did

1919 CEDAW stands for the United Nations’ Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/cedaw

147 consider that the matai “had lost their way” and that they thought the system was “at breaking point” (Itattua, Auckland, 64). More typically though people expressed their hope for the future and faith in both fa’amatai and through it fa’aSamoa. This being the case the following statement seems a fitting place to end this chapter on fa’amatai and operational changes:

Fa’aSamoa will keep going; it is still in touch. It will prevail. It is the implementation of the

system that needs to be flexible, the fa’amatai system needs to be given the support so that it

can change with the times, take account of the prevailing environment. Samoa is strong! It

is one of the few remaining cultures that survived through colonisation, missionaries, palagi,

migration, changes to the political system, etc. If it was not for fa’aSamoa pre-exiting, being

so strong … well, I really believe we would have been lost! Fatuata, Auckland, 53

148 CHAPTER 5: MIGRATION MOTIVATION

The Samoans are recreating themselves, that’s a given [and] there is a need that the

Samoans recreate themselves by acquiring these ideologies, the ideologies of survival.

Whether they are recreating the internal ideals of the matai, the ancestral marker, as

apposed to the leadership position, whether that too is being reviewed, critically adjusted to fit

modernity, to fit these new ideologies, I’m not so sure. I think everybody can easily equip

themselves with modernity, but whether they are aligning that with the ancestral structures,

whether that is being realigned to modernity, that is the problem … [which] is necessary to

stem the [affects of the out-migration] hemorrhage. Out migration is not necessarily a bad

thing, but in the wandering there is the possibility of disconnection and loss of that heritage

… and with that the possibility of loss of spirit, the mana … [which is] what the elders

treasure the most. (Tuimaleali'ifano 2005)

Previous chapters have hinted at the motivational changes that have occurred during the modern era of Samoan migration; that migration which commenced post World War II (WWII) and continues today. Initial post WWII migration can be summaries fairly simply as fitting into the category of ‘labour migration’. That is, having been exposed to the cash economy during the war,

Samoans wished to continue their involvement. At the same time opportunities on Samoa to do so remained limited. Fortuitously, however, Samoa had a pre- existing relationship with its previous coloniser, New Zealand. Subsequently, when New Zealand industrialised it looked to its Pacific Island neighbours for labour; amongst those that were welcomed were the Samoans. This era was principally about participating in the cash economy. There were, however, others who were also seeking adventure; a connection with places ‘elsewhere’ gave them the opportunity they sought. I have therefore labelled this era

149 “Early Migration: Duty or Adventure Bound”. The motivational changes in the next era, “Mid-phase Migration”, are to have a lasting and profound effect on Samoa and the operationialisation of fa’aSamoa. It is in this era that

‘individualism’ gains supremacy over the traditional ‘collective’ and the centre of power shifts from the ‘island home’, as core, to the diasporic communities in the periphery. The current era of migration, “Contemporary Migration” is not characterised by either of the previous periods and yet borrows from both.

Those who remain staunchly committed to the collective are still migrating with this in mind. Likewise there are those more typical of the mid-migration era. However, there is also a wave of migrants who are seeking escape from cultural strictness and obligations that accompany life in Samoa. Two further categories of migrants are introduced in this section. Firstly, those who have grown up in the diaspora but have chosen to return to Samoa and, finally, youth - who are keen to stay in or return to Samoa to work. Each of these groups, and individual voices within, provides unique insight into contemporary Samoan community.

Within these, broadly speaking, ‘period-based’ categories there are a sub-set of migration occurrences that do not fit neatly. For this reason they are worth a brief discussion before proceeding into the main text related to migration motivation. While it is acknowledged that the era, family or cultural circumstance will always bear influence there are some circumstances where migration appears to be much more ‘opportunistic’ and therefore extra- ordinary. The cyclones that ravaged Samoa in the early 1990s are a prime example of such an occurrence. By this time out-migration was well

150 entrenched, however, cyclones Ofa and Val20 added another layer of complexity to life in Samoa. For some people this was ‘the tipping point’.

Tafalua and Paulini’s story illustrates this point well. They had been working in Samoa, Tafalua in the Bank of Samoa and Paulini teaching secretarial studies at Samoa Polytech and “getting on OK”. After two severe cyclones, however, they started to see changes to the economics in Samoa. In particular subsistence food sources such as coconut, breadfruit, bananas and taro had all but been destroyed by the cyclones. Consecutively people became increasingly dependent on wage earners for cash to purchase store-based (largely imported and expensive) food. Tafalua and Paulini both had jobs in Samoa so they felt

“this pressure to give give give!” The cyclones gave them the added incentive, perhaps excuse, they needed to migrate. They were not happy with the demands that were being placed on them to contribute to the livelihood of others, particularly at the sacrifice of their immediate nuclear family. In 1994 they moved to New Zealand where they could concentrate on their families’ future and “bring up their own children in their own way [away from extended family]”. During my interview with them, however, they also went to great lengths to assure me of a desire to help the family back “home” too. They saw migration as one way of being able to achieve both these gaols. In many ways then they typify the ‘modern migrate’ from Samoa. Their individual response to the question as to whether they will go back is perhaps representative too. Characteristic in that the answer is not without complexity:

Paulini is clear that, despite the hard life in New Zealand, she prefers the

20 Cyclones Ofa (1990) and Val (1991) brought very destructive winds and torrential rain to Samoa. They had devastating effects on crops, including subsistence, crops like breadfruit and banana and cash crops earmarked for export, for example, cocoa and copra (coconut oil and cream).

151 independence and lack of interference from the family that it offers and so she has no desire to return, while Tafalua answers:

Yes [I do wish to go back], I always consider myself a Samoan and belong in Samoa. I have

always wanted to become matai and if I do I want to be in Samoa, so that I can give back to

the community!

In summary, they left Samoa to move away from the collective influence while, at the same time, they wish to assist those remaining on the island. In Tafalua’s case, at least, he is also committed to a continuing cultural contribution; this is a classic scenario and fits well within the final category of migration. In their case however it was the additional liability of life post-cyclones that pressed them to make the move.

The 1990 cyclones in Samoa then is an example of a one-off ‘push’ factor.

Likewise Cyclone Tracey, that devastated Darwin in 1974, is an example of an opportunistic ‘pull’ factor. Specifically the post-cyclone recovery period opened up many employment prospects, people from all over Australia massed there in response. Catherine has, for example, been living in Darwin since

1978 after she and her Maori husband moved there to find work. Catherine was born in Samoa in 1952 and was awarded a scholarship to study nursing in

New Zealand after finishing school. After three years in Wellington and

Christchurch she returned to Samoa with her new qualifications only to discover that “community nurses were not recognised in Samoa”. She ended up returning to New Zealand to get married to a man whom, coincidently, had parents in Darwin, Australia. After cyclone Tracey hit Darwin she recalls that

“there was lots of work there and the environment was good for her - familiar

152 plants and weather and pace of life!” While it was not a cyclone that took

Catherine away from Samoa it was a cyclone that meant that she left New

Zealand for Darwin. I move now to the discussion of migration eras and the motivation forces within.

5.1 Early Migration: Duty or Adventure Bound

This era refers to the first post WWII wave of migration, from roughly from

1950 to the mid-late 1970s. There is a lot of literature written about this era, much of which is discussed in detail in earlier sections of this thesis. There are key themes worth reiterating. Firstly, this is a time when Samoans were keen to engage with the (for them) newly discovered cash economy. A time also when both fa’aSamoa and with this, the rule of the matai, fa’amatai, was strong.

While cash was a strong motivational factor many too were seeking adventure.

I had heard so much [about New Zealand] from my New Zealand teachers at school so they

inspired me. Plus there was a trend to migrate and I was in an adventurous mood. I

organised my own migration and left Samoa in search of fun, new places … I guess I

always thought I would go back … Tialamu, 58, Auckland (migrated aged 20 in 1966)

Importantly migration was generally seen as temporary; it was a strategic response to prospects offered. Samoans as a ‘mobile people’, domestically and across the oceans, were not impended by the fact that these particular opportunities were ‘off-shore’. It was mostly single people that migrated, because single people were more likely to concentrate on earning remittances that they would willingly send back to the island; young women were preferred because they were seen as more dependable. It is probable that they were also considered easier to control and thus not likely to cause trouble for

153 their hosts overseas.

Itattua’s migration story fits this scenario. It commenced when a papalagi from

Dunedin visited Samoa on a mission to take girls back to work in his sock factory. She describes it as being “very easy then, there were no visas,

Dunedin needed workers, Samoans wanted cash jobs”. Her parents had passed away and it was her brother that encouraged her to go and “find a better life” because, as she explained, life in the village for an unmarried young female was hard. For Itattua is was very much an adventure:

I had heard so many stories about New Zealand. It was a privilege [to go] and a great

opportunity, so I took it. Yes, yes, it was a great big thing to go. I was scared of course but I

already had an uncle and a brother there in Dunedin. When I got there it was nothing like

my imaginings. It was a shock to see a big city like Auckland and Dunedin was so very cold

and scary. Such a different life – buses, taxis, no grass … so I sure had my adventure!

The pressure on Itattua to contribute back to her family on the island was not as strong as that placed on others: her circumstances were unusual in that her parents had already passed away. Despite this ‘relaxed’ beginning she has, however, remained an active member of the Samoan community in New

Zealand, hosting malaga, organising siva (dance) and contributing to fa’alavelave across the diaspora.

A primary role of the family matai is to accumulate and allocate resources; this point is explored elsewhere. It is worth reiterating, however, that within the bounds of this duty the matai would traditionally decide who, within the extended family, would work where in order to best serve the needs of the collective. This is the means whereby some people were sent to work overseas.

154 Taking a job in a factory in Auckland, for example, was seen as ‘an extension’ to working in the fields. As the person chosen to go you were duty bound to earn as much as you could and, most importantly, send the vast majority back to the collective in the village.

Albert’s story reflects this scenario well:

I was 17 and used to working in the plantation. I had finished school. My grandparents got

together with my parents and decided I should be the one to go and work in Auckland. I did

not know anything about it. But I was happy to go because at the time everyone was talking

about It [migrating]. They raised the money, some of my uncle and aunties helped too, to

send me. When I got to New Zealand I lived with an uncle and some of my cousins there. He

got me a job the factory he worked in. It wasn’t hard work like I was used to but it was very

cold and the hours long. But the money was good and regular. I was able to send money home

and help my parents to build a better house. After some time I moved into my own house and

two of my cousins (those children of the ones who had helped me) came over to work here too.

I always thought that I would go back, and I did but only for visits. I got married here in

Auckland. Now my life is here – it is better for my children and it was good for my parents

when they were alive still, although I still miss my Samoa! Albert, age 58, Auckland

In Laya’s case, now 53 and living in Auckland, her story also mirrors the typical path we see in these earlier migrations, that is her family decided to send her to New Zealand. However, in this case it was not so she could send back remittances or attend school, it was as a punishment. By her own admission “she had been very naughty … my parents did not want me to have to get married [if she stayed on the island], so they sent me away to live with my auntie and uncle.” Despite this she claims to “have been happy to go. I didn’t want to weed the garden, do all the hard work [but] I was heartbroken for my boyfriend.” Laya did attend a couple of months of college in New

155 Zealand, but she was not interested and so commenced working “serving cups of tea in the hospital.” Working provided her with the means to establish her and to send money back to her parents. Laya does not wish to return to Samoa to live; she still misses her parents but she does not miss the hard life.

Significantly, she adds, “I do not miss my life not being my own, there is always duty duty duty in Samoa!”

Chain migration systems were sent up across the diaspora. One person, as in

Albert’s case above, would find work in a factory and then recommend other family members to his or her employer. ‘Safe’ or halfway houses were common, houses where those ‘fresh-off-the-boat’ would stay when they first arrived, or in the case of young people, particularly girls, they would reside for the duration of their stay. Despite the increasing numbers of Samoans living outside of the island Samoa remained at the centre of the network. That is to say that the cultural hub, fa’aSamoa, was concentrated in Samoa and it remained strongly the centre of power. This is valuable to note because it was the devolution of this power to the ‘periphery’ in subsequent eras of migration that stands-out as being highly significant in regards to cultural transformation.

Once chain migration was established younger people were given the opportunity to study abroad so that they might improve their own employment prospects and, through them, the ‘riches’ that would become available to their family. These young people needed to repay their debt by studying hard, earning money and sending money back to the island. Home, however, remained strongly Samoa. Migration was still generally considered a

156 temporary move and circulatory in nature. Those in the diaspora were still managed by the ‘centre’, that is, Samoa.

Towards the end of this era, however, family migration began to gain popularity. It was still very much the exception and, moreover, not looked upon favourably by some remaining in Samoa. This out-movement of families heralded the beginning of the attitudinal change from the collective or ‘aiga potopoto to the nuclear and individualistic; such a shift was to have long-term effects on Samoa and its people. In the short-term it likely represented an erosion of political power from a Samoa-centric fa’amatai village-based system.

Those in positions of power were naturally resistant to such diasporic devolution. Consistent with this was substantial pressure for titleholders to stay in Samoa: there was a well-founded fear that once matai resided in the diaspora the centre of power would irreversibly shift. Loso’s story illustrates these early tensions. Now 51 and living in Tacoma, USA she migrated at the age of 11 with her family. She recalls that:

The migration was mostly about the kids – looking for a better life for them, it was NOT to

leave Samoa. My parents always had the dream to return. It was seen as a temporary move

at first. My father was already high chief so he was back and forth to island all the time for

‘duty’. There was a lot of resistance from the extended family against our migration.

Although they did not intend to stay, we eventually did. I guess we got used to life overseas, it

was good for us kids and we were able to send money back home as well

Loso herself returned to Samoa when she was around 22 and stayed 12 years because she met her American-born husband while visiting America Samoa.

(He had gone to Pago Pago to find a wife, learn the language and start a business). Their four children were born in Samoa but eventually they moved

157 back to USA to look after her husband’s parents. Despite the fact that her husband was not brought up with fa’aSamoa Loso stresses that her kids were:

“church, honour, respect, love, family” is how she describes the priorities she has attempted to instil in them.

Finally, Lucianne’s story highlights both a yearning for adventure and cash while also illustrating the transition from this early time of migration to the next phase. That is, the phase when ‘discontent’ was to grow. Lucianne is now

64 and living in Tacoma, Washington, USA, where she has been since 1962.

She was a self-confessed rebel by the age of 15: her first attempt to ‘escape’ was to jump-ship as a stow-a-way to Australia. She spent one month in

Australia before being caught and forced to return to Samoa: she was badly beaten upon return for disobedience. Around 20 years of age she got sent to

Pago Pago on American Samoa to run her stepfather’s bar. She met her (first palagi) husband in this bar and got beaten up again. This time her long hair was cut off too as a form of extra punishment involving public humiliating.

She had always “dreamed of living somewhere else” so she married him regardless and moved to USA for “adventure, a better life, employment, money and to escape all the cultural pressure!” By her own admission she married this husband to “get away from family and culture”.

5.2 Mid-phase Migration: from the Collectivism to Individualism

This period ranges from the early 1980s through to the late 1990s. The key changes during this period, as alluded to in the previous section, include an increasing ‘individualism’ and the devolution of political power from the homeland of Samoa to the diaspora. This was a period of major adjustment for

158 Samoa and Samoans everywhere. What commenced as a controlled circulatory migration system, based on an extension of traditional culturally-based behaviours, was to undergo rapid transformation as the diasporic population grew to equal numbers to those in the homeland. These changes are reflected in people’s changing migration motivations. Fatuata, a highly respected matai, summarises the tensions of the time:

Migration is on the top of the head of every Samoan. The primary reason is economics with

the priority pathway to a better future still employment opportunities offered in New

Zealand. Migration for me was about money for my extended family although but I knows

that this is a no longer the trend. After 40-50 years of migration there is a change. In the

past the extended family would gather and send on person, then a chain of brothers, cousins

etc would migrate, that is, it was about the development of the extended family. But before

too long and especially now people are focusing on their own nuclear family. They may still

send money to their parents for a car or to build a house but they are much more likely to put

their children – education and opportunities first before others in the village. Still, despite

these changes, there is still none-stop dialogue between immigrants and people back home.

But yes, sadly, there are people who do resent fa’alavelave, who see migration as a chance to

free them from the spiritual and cultural hassle [of life in Samoa]. 50, Auckland

Sela’s 1980 passage is a good example of a relocation tale that bridges early and mid-phase migration eras. Sela moved because her family wished her to.

Her grandmother, with whom she lived, wanted her to take up the opportunity to reside in New Zealand “for her own good” but also so she could set up “a chain for her siblings to follow.” Sela herself reports being “scared and fearful about how she would cope!” She knew that New Zealand was good for education but “she was very happy living in the village”. She agreed to go, however, because “her parents needed assistance” and if she went, others

159 could follow. Sela might have physically moved away from Samoa but “her heart remains strictly Samoan!” To this end it is worth commenting on Sela’s life in Auckland. Despite being in her early forties now and having been in

New Zealand for 25 years, she lives a traditionally-based life. She is employed full-time in a bank and has worked hard to achieve her position, but it is her standing in the Samoan community that drives her. Sela is a ‘pillar of the church’ and while not a matai, and notwithstanding her gender, is nevertheless considered a leader in her community. Sela dresses in a very conservative customary manner and her behaviour is, in terms of fa’aSamoa and respect, exemplary. Her house, with the exception of their church, is the ‘command centre’ for local Samoans. People constantly come and go for meetings, prayer, eating and relaxing; the house is never less than full with local visitors and those from ‘home’ (Samoa). She hosts malaga and while the burden of these

‘fund-raising’ visits from Samoa is considerable (time, effort and money) she recognises the important role they play in reinforcing social and political relationships across the diaspora. Thus, she fulfils her obligations out of the very same sense of duty that gave her the strength to stay in New Zealand when she first arrived. Like others that have established themselves in the diaspora, yet remain heavily ensconced in the culture, Sela, when asked if she will go back to Samoa to live answers very enthusiastically “Yes!” and, as an afterthought adds [laughing], “when I have heaps of money to build a small hotel, to retire by the sea!”

By the 1980s Samoan enclaves were established in New Zealand, Australia and the USA; as these populations grew, the accoutrements of ‘community’

160 also grew. It was during this period when Samoan churches were established in the diaspora. Churches developed as a focus of both religion and also

Samoan culture; they are the place where Samoan rituals are reinforced, correct behaviour is applauded and the fa’aSamoa value-set is respected

(McGrath 2002). They became the meeting place and the venue for community decision-making. Increasingly the church community, with the minister as leader, began to operate as substitute villages. Moreover, ministers began to assume, at least in part, the leadership duties previously entrusted to matai. In this way the power associated with fa’aSamoa and fa’amatai was increasingly devolved to the diaspora. In many ways, socially, culturally and economically, those back on the island were ‘left behind’. Fa’amatai, the governance system of Samoa, is founded on gaining and maintaining resources, resources that were now increasingly sourced from those living outside of Samoa. Put simply, as the transnational population grew the resource base shifted. With this shift came devolution of power. What were the ‘nodes’ of the cultural network evolved to become at the very most, the

‘centre’, or, at the least, much more politically significant.

Sequentially dependence on the resources sourced in the diaspora grew in

Samoa. Firstly, people became financially dependent on them to sustain the rate of change being experienced, for example, to build papalagi style houses.

Next, the population had grown accustomed to ‘hand-outs’ and easy cash; there are many who claim that those on the island become indolent as a result.

People, for instance, became reluctant to labour on family land if they did not need to do so in order to eat. Ella’s concerns are typical of many:

161 Yes, I see many disappointing things now, especially the total dependency on remittances and

handouts. Kids no longer work in the village because they get money from relatives overseas.

People are so lazy now, just sitting and getting into cars! Buying food from the

supermarkets. Land remains uncared for etcetera, things like that, just lazy! 41, Apia

Lastly, and most significantly the island population had become dependent on these resources to affirm family status. Status is a very important component of the fa’aSamoa cultural system; a high-status matai as head of the family is one who can attract resources. Likewise a successful matai is able to secure the loyalty of his extended family and, through them, attract even more resources.

Thus the cycle continues. The public display of wealth is integrated into all ceremonies, whether that is the weekly giving in church21 or the contributions given during fa’alavelave. In summary, Samoans in Samoa had become dependent on their kin in the diaspora to uphold their physical and cultural livelihood. That which commenced as a flow of remittances based on cultural duty became a demand made out of mounting need and established expectations. At the same time as the dependence on remittances grew resentment started to build towards these ‘expectations’. Those in the diaspora were wanting to establish themselves and their families in their new communities, but the dependency of island-Samoans was mounting:

There is a real cycle of dependency on the families here. It is such a phenomenon! People in

Samoa think there is so much money here but people here don’t tell them about the bills,

loans, etc. I really think that people in Samoa do understand though, but they deny it and

just keep asking. So, of course people are getting angry! Reverend Nickolas, 37, Mangere,

New Zealand

21 It is not unusual for the amount that each family has given towards the running of the church, the minister’s wage and any special fundraising event to be read out in church at the end of the service. This obviously causes competition between families and stimulates more ‘giving’.

162 It is not surprising that there is tension on either side of the divide about remittance-demand. More than once during my fieldwork did I hear New

Zealand, for example, described as - “Land of full fat milk and welfare money”

– an expression I have since found used in One Samoanoa, a popular Internet site (Niu Sila 2009). The bitterness apparent in this slogan is reflected in conversations across the diaspora. People now openly resent what they perceive as misconceptions about how the resources they have available to them and the consequent demands placed on them by family back on the island; demands that mean that they are not able to put the resources into their immediate family and new life in the diaspora. As one participant stressed:

This is currently a big clash. People at home have become so dependent [on remittances],

they have become lazy, less productive. This is seriously an emerging problem in Samoa!

They expect 500 tala every week or month, etc. But they have livelihoods there they can

develop, like taro, bananas that they can sell at market. Or they could use remittances to

create a small industry like a taxi service or open a shop. People in New Zealand want

partnership, NOT dependency. Fatuata, 53, Auckland

The issues are epitomised in Lucianne’s case. She decided to go back to Samoa in 1992, at age fifty, to build a home for her parents. She took a twenty by forty-foot shipping container full of goods with her, including a car, white goods and furniture. Despite her earlier wish to escape fa’aSamoa she openly admits that at least a part of her motivation for going to and staying in USA was to support her island family. Notwithstanding this, she is angered about fa’alavelave obligations and the way that those on the islands “have their hands out all the time!” In fact, she rejects fa’alavelave saying that her kids come first.

Despite this she does send money home to her parents but claims this it out of

163 love, not cultural obligation. She currently sends $250 USD every week: her 4 children take turns in sending this money, so once per month each makes the contribution. They also send money for funerals22; however, she is very cynical about the church stating, ”Culture is being abused by the church … every week there is a fundraising – one week youth, women’s ministry, men’s ministry!” Lucianne is one of the few Samoans that openly, as a matter of

‘public record’, criticised the church during my study, although such discontent is commonly discretely expressed and widely acknowledged.

Figure 13: Village roadside fundraising stand to support a church. The sign reads, “BBQ $5”. (Source: Author)

22 Consistent with the concepts of respect and status there is enormous competition amongst Samoans to have the “biggest and best” ceremony: as discussed elsewhere the cost of a traditional funeral had risen to as much as one hundred thousand USD for a high chief. The money is for food, contributions to the church and matai who attend and other goods that must be purchased. In addition to the pressure that comes from within the system it should also be noted that the expense has increased because many items must be purchased now. For example there are less cows, pigs and fish supplied by the village. Imported tin food (bully-beef), frozen food (turkey tails) and cases of lamb replace what were once locally sourced products. In addition the fine-mats that were also once woven in the village are now likely to be purchased ie these too are a commodity for purchase because so many people participate in the cash-economy.

164 Consistent with the other changes of this era was an increase in family migration. Motivation moved from work as a means to cash to include the opportunities available to children, particularly education and ultimately better employment. ‘Ima, now 44 and living south of Auckland, migrated to New

Zealand with her husband and two children in 1983 at the age of 23 “to get a job, to look for a better future for our children, to send money back home.”

Like so many others they already had family in New Zealand so they were able to “come and take a look”. After initially finding it “much harder here,

[you] have to get up early, go to work, its very cold and you need to work to get money … everything is about money here … people like money here and you get trapped so that is why you stay.” When asked what she does or doesn’t miss about Samoa and whether she wants to return, ‘Ima’s response is typical of those in this group:

I miss my country, where I was born, my mother, Samoan food, but I don’t miss working on

the plantation! I want to go back and visit my mom and stay with her until she passes away,

but then I will come back. I don’t really think I could live there now although I still think

about it. I don’t know, maybe when I retire, if I have the money and depending on where my

children are …

Reflected in ‘Ima’s story is an increasing trend towards permanent migration, although the ‘dream of return’ for many still remains. Accordingly, the focus of the opportunity to be gained from migration moved to the nuclear family rather than the extended family networks upon which villages and power are built in Samoa. No longer were people as willing to make the sacrifices necessary to sustain remittances to the detriment of their children. People sometimes endeavoured to do both by entering into high levels of debt,

165 resulting in even greater pressure, sometimes even resulting in suicide.

Notwithstanding an increase in individualism, a growing resentment regarding remittance dependence and bitterness about excessive fa’alavelave during this time there remained a fundamental belief in the need to stay connected to

Samoa. Moreover there remains the motivation to ‘pay’. Connectivity is valued because of the safety net it can provide in times of need (it acts as a welfare system), the status one may gain (bestowal of a matai title, access to land), because people have a romantic desire to preserve culture and “the real

Samoa” but importantly, because the connection provides a ‘richness’ to peoples’ lives.

Just as Sela’s story earlier helped bridge-the-gap between phase one and mid- phase migration, Sela’s ideas help illustrate the changes between mid-phase and the last phase to be discussed, contemporary migration. Additionally, she articulates the tensions that have developed between Samoans in Samoa, where she currently resides, and those living overseas. In response to my question about why she thinks people look to migrate Sela gives a few reasons.

First she thinks they are seeking “better lives, particularly if they do not have choices here.” She stresses also that some people choose to go away so they can concentrate on their kids, spend more time with them. That is, rather than all the time and the money “going into the village or to church obligations.”

She is speaking here of a growing trend whereby people speak more openly about their resentment towards the pressure places on them to be a ‘a good

Samoan’ as part of everyday village life. This resentment, at least publicly, is usually couched in subtle terms; it is not about resenting fa’aSamoa

166 commitments, but about wanting more of something else. In other words, for those who choose to migrate to escape cultural obligations, the balance has tipped, but they are still wary of openly rejecting their culture. As Sela says,

“these days it is about the kids”, rather than your parents, other family:

“People want their kids to have the opportunity to live in another place and get a good education”. She also thinks that these same parents secretly hope that their children will not ‘be lost’ and will remain connected to Samoa, the land and the sea. Sela herself had the chance to receive some education in New

Zealand when she was young; she escorted her grandfather there when she was an adolescent. She stayed with her uncle and auntie who, although uneducated, had migrated to New Zealand in 1970. She says that they

“worked really hard to get their kids to New Zealand”. Once in New Zealand her auntie worked as a cleaner and her uncle in a factory. Sela loved her time in New Zealand and appreciates the education she got there. She thinks it has been harder for her cousins in New Zealand in some way because they have lost language and culture and are not now comfortable when they come back to visit. Whereas she got to come home but still got the experience. She says:

I think it is very good, the migration. As I tell you my story, of how our Auntie and Uncle

helped us, my sisters and brothers to migrate and earn money in New Zealand, I am also

thinking about now when they [my siblings] are helping us back here, those remaining in

Samoa… It is good for Samoa too, good for the economic growth and development especially

through education …

It is clear to see that Sela and her family have things that others do not have because she has relatives overseas. Her sister sends her gifts – a microwave,

TV, video recorder and helps with money for the education of her children.

167 Her husband also drives a new 4WD that the family overseas purchased; she and her husband paid the freight. She is hesitant, however, about what is expected of her in return. She tells me that she is under considerable pressure to send one of her children to New Zealand to live with her sister. She knows it would be good for her eldest girl to go “but she is still so young!” Sela also knows though that even her few years of education in New Zealand helped her – she recalls that she got her first job in the Ministry of Finance because her English was better than her peers (who had not been educated overseas).

But Sela is also clear about what she calls the “negative impacts” on the island.

Much of her concerns concentrated on young people:

Youths, when they come back, they come back with bad attitudes, like disrespecting

fa’aSamoa or perhaps heavy drinking, sexual activity, risky dress … people go overseas for

a visit or education but when they come back they seemingly have forgotten what is

important! 38, Apia

168 5.3 Contemporary Migration: Mixing It Up!

People move away because of the pressure - contribution is a heavy heavy burden. There is

enormous pressure on people from the extended family, church, and village – fa’alavelave in

general. For the church alone there are regular meetings, construction work, fundraising

efforts … donations of so much time and money. I relate this to the ‘strong Samoan pride’ –

you can never forget that your matai, your village, your church must always be ‘up-there’

[above the rest]. I think these are the main reasons for migration today: village pressure like

I was just talking about, looking for a better life, I mean education and work opportunities,

plus there are no cyclones where people are going and still Samoa is a developing country.

Even though you can get a good job in Samoa now, maybe 80-90 per cent of your wage goes

to fa’alavelave, not your children but your image/status/reputation in ‘aiga and church.

People also still migrate to support family back on the island, so they can contribute to

matai bestowals, funerals, weddings, church construction, travel, education, hospitalistaion

… I myself am very happy to have someone [siblings] outside … I don’t call on them all the

time, but if needed their support is crucial … family overseas is a big big help! Lapia, 43,

Apia

Samoa today is a very different place to the traditional underdeveloped island that it was when post War World II out-migration commenced. Then the island was dominated by traditional wood and thatched housing, there were no roads suitable for cars over most of the island, there was no electricity outside of Apia and the economy was based on subsistence cropping. In the present day, Samoa remains ‘an island paradise’ but the housing, even in the villages, is dominated by papalagi styles, there are sealed roads all around the two main islands of Upolu and Savaii, electricity has reached the corners of these islands, Apia, the capital and major port city has a population of 58,000 who enjoy cafes, supermarkets and a theatre, and the vast majority of people are involved in some form of cash economy – public service, industry, tourism,

169 cash-cropping and export trades. The total population of Samoans living in

Samoa is around 200,000, with, significantly, just as many Samoan-born

Samoans living elsewhere23. There is a constant flow of traffic – electronic communication, gifts, money and people – between Samoa and these diasporic communities.

The tracking of that which has motivated people to migrate from Samoa, in what I have termed the early and mid-phase periods, has facilitated a parallel exploration of cultural transformation. Engagement in a world outside of

Samoa has meant that Samoans have been forced to adapt. While the scenario is more complex this time, primarily because the situation is not ‘containable’, there is strong evidence that fa’aSamoa continues to evolve. Changes, such as increased individualism and the priority given to the nuclear family, would have been judged harshly in the past. The pressure of engagement with modernity means, however, that the thinking around behavioural ‘norms’ has lessened in Samoa. This applies to migration too.

The migration story, today, is less clear than it was in earlier eras. There is a sense of greater choice now: choice to migrate or not, choice to flow back and forth, or the choice to return to Samoa to enjoy a resourceful and profitable life. This means that, in terms of migration, there are still those who fall into both previously discussed eras. For instance, there are those who look to migration to escape the pressure on the island – culture, the church and obligations. People like Tom, who migrated to the USA in 1996 at the age of

23 There are many more Samoan-identifying Samoans living in the diaspora than this. Many second generation and now third generation Samoans born overseas also culturally identify themselves as Samoan or at least recognise their bloodlines.

170 eighteen. His parents had both migrated from Samoa to American Samoa for work, to escape a “hard childhood” and to find something beyond subsistence living. Tom won a scholarship from the government to attend college in USA.

What drove him was:

A sense of exploration … I always wanted to venture off the island … guess I wanted to

escape my strict upbringing with all the discipline and rules. But I still picked Hawaii

because I wanted to be close to home, because I wanted to go back for festivals, funerals and

stuff like that. 27, Tacoma

There are those also who choose migration with their children in mind, but equally there are those who migrate knowing that it is the best way they can support their extended family. Reverend Nickolas and his wife Alutua describe their migration in 2002 as combined “calling from God, appointment from church” and opportunity; opportunity for “other family members to have chances that would otherwise not be available to them.” They took three other members in addition to their own children to Auckland with them and are able to host regular visitors from the island.

Beyond these examples there are new groups to add to the fusion of stories.

Included are those who are choosing return migration in order to take advantage of prospects back in Samoa. Benny for example, migrated back to

Samoa after finishing university. He was born in the USA from Samoan parents who, after first moving to American Samoa, went to the USA with the military. He grew up only hearing the “good stuff” about Samoa and fa’aSamoa, “close families, fa’alavelave and the support it provides etcetera”. He first visited Samoa at three or four years old and again at thirteen or fourteen.

171 Because he grew up in the military “there was no home” (they moved constantly) so Samoa was always spoken about as ‘home’; it was the family’s anchor and his cultural learning “kept him grounded”. In his teens his parents moved to Tacoma, which was the most he had ever been surrounded in

Samoans and Samoan life. When he finished university he went back to

American Samoa because he “wanted to find his “Roots”24. He went for a two- year visit but stayed for twelve. During his time in Samoa he “loved learning the culture, felt valued and complete, but I got caught up in the political system, sadly, and when the party I was supporting lost I made a lot of enemies.” He felt uncomfortable then so he and his (Samoan born) wife decided to leave with “five kids and twenty two pieces of luggage!” He realises now, upon reflection, what he knew in his heart then – that he was “leaving for good this time.”

Others interviewed who have chosen to return to Samoa include Christine, a teacher, who after many years in Australia has decided to return in order to purchase a family home for her mother and siblings. She is working in Apia and enjoying rediscovering her culture, although she fully admits to being a

“town girl” only visiting the village when she absolutely has to. Ella, born in

Christchurch, is now living in Samoa after she fell in love with a “traditional man” while at university. She is glad to be raising her sons in Samoa although openly admits that she misses New Zealand “terribly” and is hoping to take them to live there when they get older. Agnes, her sister and her mother have extended their New Zealand based clothing business to Apia in Samoa. Agnes

24 Chomsky’s 1977 six-part miniseries “Roots”, with its themes of race and culture influenced his thinking around matters of his own heritage.

172 likes living in Apia but does not enjoy “all the cultural trappings” that go along with it. She is finding it hard to feel as if she “belongs” because, despite being brought up Samoan in New Zealand, she does not speak Samoan. She and her sister intend to travel back-and-forth between Apia and Auckland until they get their business established. She will then decide where she wants to settle.

Lastly, Alex has chosen to return to the village of his grandfather’s birth so that he can learn his culture and improve on his language. He hopes to win back his grandfather’s title one day and knows that he cannot do this until he

“has the heart of the people in the village”. He is also keen to contribute to his extended family by establishing a “controlled” tourist venture in the village.

Whether Alex will stay in Samoa remains to be seen but for now he is settled there.

There is a change in the prevailing attitude of young people regarding out- migration. Gone is the mind-set of 1980s when every youth was talking about

‘getting out’, when migration was the only thing that was considered desirable.

Dreams were so imbedded in this scenario that unrest amongst youth on the island was very high. Their desires for ‘a new life’, however, were shattered following New Zealand’s OPEC oil-crisis related economic downturn in the

1970s and subsequent ‘reinvention’ in the 1980s. The consequent shift from factory-based production, with its dependence on unskilled labour, resulted in high unemployment, lack of opportunity and discontent amongst islanders25.

25 Janes (1990) describes a parallel set of circumstances in the USA following the economic downturn around the same era. He notes that unskilled Samoans, like immigrants from Latin America and Asia, faced heightened competition for jobs in a declining market. While a similar downturn occurred in Australia it did not have as a direct effect on Samoan because the vast majority of Samoans living in Australia did not emigrate until the 1980s. They often migrated from New Zealand to Australia in response to the 1970s downturn in that country.

173 Youth back in Samoa became both restive and stranded. A sense of hopelessness resulted in malaise, disquiet that resulted in unprecedented rates of youth suicide. These days, while youth may still be looking to escape, some

(the privileged at least), are looking at it as a short-term strategic move – for education, travel, adventure – or a combination of all three things. A timely conversation at the main bus stop in Apia with three young women Kate, Pusu and Sina exemplifies this trend well. All three were born in Samoa and all were studying Foundation Year at the National University of Samoa (NUS).

None, however, are looking to migrate when their studies were completed.

Kate wants to travel to visit relatives in Australia and USA after doing medicine at Fiji, but then wants to practice in Samoa. Pusu wants to get a job as an accountant in Apia when finished. Sina has a sister in Auckland who wants her to come and live with her and study engineering at university

(which is what she ultimately wants to do) but “ she is not all that sure she wants to go yet, and, if she does go then she wants to come back [to Samoa].”

The stories of these three young women typified a change it the attitudes of young Samoans still in Samoa. Firstly they have a desire to get a very good education because this is seen as the way to ‘economic success’. Secondly, they are keen to go overseas for their education. They want qualifications from

(preferably) Australia or if not then NZ. Such qualifications represent status but, more importantly, they attract greater wages in Samoa (rather than if you train locally) For example nursing is discussed as a great thing to do if you can do your basic training overseas because wages when you return to Samoa will be higher. Significantly their desires are framed very much within the context

174 of an individual striving for success – gone is talk of the family, the relatives, the village, the collective. Lastly, contrary to conversations had with youth only a decade before, Samoa is no longer seen as such a “bad place” to be. This is providing that you have a good education, a job that recognises your qualifications and the dollars to live well. This represents a change, at least among the elite youth: migration is no longer seen as the only escape option.

While many may still be thinking about it, either permanently or temporarily, there is clearly another option now. Like Pusu said:

I look around Apia and we have a movie house, good cafes now and there is the opportunity

for me to get a good job. Also it is not so strict anymore, at least in Apia, I can go out with

my friends and meet tourist etc. I like it here. It still feels like home, it is safe and all my

family is here. Before people had to leave to earn money, I no longer have to do that, I can

stay if I wish and have enough to be happy, 18, Apia

Still others who migrated when young are looking to return to Samoa. Pipi’s story is typical of this group. Her Uncle and Aunt officially adopted her at age seven so that she could stay in New Zealand. This arrangement was agreed to by her extended family across the diaspora. It was always going to be a permanent move and she is a New Zealand citizen now. Yet, while her family sent her for “better education” she is very aware of her “obligations” to her family in Samoa. Pipi works tirelessly for the Samoan community in Mangere,

South Auckland. She is an active member of her church; including being a youth group leader and a Sunday-School teacher. She wants very much to go back to Samoa to teach when she has finished her university education. Her plan is to travel between Samoa and New Zealand, until she gets a job she really wants or marries, either of which will determine where she will settle.

175 While Pipi’s story lends hope to the future of Samoa, ’s own tale sheds a less encouraging light. His story is interesting because it exemplifies the ‘flip- side’ of the common migration story; he was the one chosen to stay in the village. He was nominated by the family to “stay home and look after his parents” when every other member of the immediate family had migrated.

Resentment towards the pressures placed on him by his family to be the

‘cultural gatekeeper’ was strongly evident as he told his story. The interviewer was left in no doubt that he considered these pressures, combined with the arduous demands placed on him as part of everyday village life, as a burden.

After his parents died he left Samoa for a holiday in New Zealand but has never gone back. He is now a permanent New Zealand citizen. He describes his previous life in Samoa as “as an untitled person” as “hard, very hard”, explaining that he had the joint responsibilities of farming the family land, caring for his ageing parents and meeting all cultural committments.

Conversely life in New Zealand is “much simpler” and he does not need to work nearly so hard (he in fact receives some sought of government pension).

When questioned as to whether he wants to go back he responds by stating “I have no money to go back, so I’ll never go back!” He goes on to explain the evident passion behind this statement by saying “I am a matai now, so if I went back I would have to take too much money, too many gifts” (Falua inherited the title after his father died, because of his service to the family). There are a number of interesting factors worth exploring in his statement. Firstly, by his own admission, Falua is reluctant to share that which he has gained while in the diaspora with those back on the island. Although not specifically

176 mentioned, the inference is that he is resentful of expectations placed on him as a titled Samoan. Ironically, while the benefits of such a title would mean that life would not be nearly as hard for him if he did return to the island, the responsibilities, as discussed elsewhere, can be onerous. It is not difficult to imagine, however, how those remaining on the island could be equally aggrieved towards those in the diaspora who do not distribute their wealth back to the island; there is still an expectation born out of both tradition and experience that this would be the case. Thus, there are tensions on both sides of the Pacific. Such tensions are constantly negotiated and, in many ways, illustrate the complicated nature of transnational relationships. I did get a sense that Falua felt in some ways ‘trapped’ by the situation. He and his family are in no way ‘rich’ and so are unlikely to have that much that they could share although culturally he would wish to. He stresses, for instance, when discussing his identity that, while he is greatly appreciative of his New

Zealand citizenship, “he can still only be Samoan” and that he always “thinks of his place of birth”. He seemed to have found an uneasy peace with his decision to stay in New Zealand. His motivations seem to be almost purely individual, or at least nuclear family orientated, but it does not rest easy in his heart. Despite this he seems to have made the transition, at least partially, to being a Samoan by birth and by blood, but no longer by culture.

This has been an intense and prolonged transformation in Samoa’s history.

Nevertheless, there remains a tangible connection to Samoa throughout the diaspora, although not always to fa’aSamoa. Very few people I interviewed, even those that were ‘dismissive’ of fa’aSamoa, have left Samoa entirely behind.

177 Their identity, explored comprehensively in the next section, is still inextricably related to their “Samoanness”, although their ties are by birth or blood, rather than culture. Elsewhere I have argued strongly that it is a commitment to culture that creates and maintains a viable Samoan diasporic network. Moreover, this commitment needs to be ‘real’; people need to commit to cultural institutions such as fa’alavelave in practice and not just fa’aSamoa as an ideological construct. Fa’aSamoa needs to remain a ‘living culture’. If it does not, the implications for the vitality of transnational community is profound.

178 CHAPTER 6: CONNECTIVITY, IDENTITY, BELONGING & SAMOANNESS

Please see print copy for image

Figure 14: Samoan “Street Fashion” New Zealand (Source: Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/samoans/4/2#breadcrumbtop)

179 Even with citizenship in our hands, we can still be only Samoans. We always think of our

place of birth. We do really appreciate this country [New Zealand] for all it has given us.

When it comes to security and survival [though] everyone will turn to Samoa in their

hearts. Even those third generation, born here. This is typical of all Samoans and our need to

be sure, our need for our identity. Ioelu (58), Mina (55) & Moses (30), Auckland

In so much as this thesis engages with issues of cultural transformation questions concerning the continued existence, or otherwise, of cultural identity are primary. It is for this reason that “Identity” is singled out for detailed discussion. Issues such as what influences a person’s identity, how is identity expressed, how is ‘belonging’ articulated and does being Samoan mean different things to different people are addressed. Moreover, how the response to these enquiries influences an individual or community’s degree of

“connectivity” and, ultimately, “Samoanness” is considered.

Samoanness here is defined by the degree that a person aligns to the culture, fa’aSamoa, not merely to being Samoan. These two things are no longer the same. More importantly, the way in which they differ is significant. The difference between identifying as Samoan by blood, birth or upbringing and being ensconced in the culture goes to the heart of this thesis. It underpins the focal claim that the strength, capacity and endurance of the Samoan community26, lies not in the number of people who identify as Samoan but in the number that are committed to the survival of fa’aSamoa. In the following case studies we will meet a number of Samoans from across the diaspora. Like the previous section concerning migration motivation, each has their story to

26 This includes both island and diasporic Samoans. During the progress of this study I have formed the view that to differentiate between island and diasporic Samoa (in terms of the ‘community of Samoans’) would be a misrepresentation. The amount of interchange, both literal and figurative, between island-based Samoans and those living elsewhere is such that they can be, particularly for the purposes of this study, considered ‘one’.

180 tell. The stories are about identity, belonging and “Samoanness”; grouped together these three make up a ‘degree of connectivity’. In this study, this degree of connectivity relates to a number of factors: place of birth; migration motivation; the era of motivation; the migration path; the size of the community migrated to and membership of a sub-group within the broader

Samoan community. Each of these issues will be discussed in turn; the first three are grouped together for ease of understanding.

The section ends with a discussion about those Samoans who are struggling with or, in some cases, rejecting aspects of the Samoan identity outright. The

‘catch’ is that even the most discontent of these Samoans still referred to themselves as Samoan throughout my interviews with them. In essence it is not being “Samoan” that they object to but aspects of fa’aSamoa or the ‘cost’ of being a Samoan. The possible implications of their objections finalise the segment.

6.1 Place of Birth, Migration Motivation, The Era of Migration

The first of these factors, place of birth, is the most obvious. If a person was born in Samoa, no matter how young when they migrated, they tend to have a strong association with the island of Samoa and fa’aSamoa. There are exceptions to this of course and these often relate to the second influencing- factor, migration motivation. If, for example, a person uses migration to escape from cultural obligations ergo, once migrated, they would distance themselves from fa’aSamoa. They would not, however, necessarily distance themselves from outwardly identifying as Samoan or feeling Samoan. This point then raises the question, “Is there a difference between identifying as Samoan and

181 “being” Samoan?” At the individual level it could appear that there is not, or, if a difference does exist it has little or no day-to-day significance for deeper issues relating to cultural adaptation and transformation. Namely, if you are

Samoan by race and identify as Samoan then for all intents and purposes one is Samoan. Further, it is likely that if you identify as Samoan then those around you will see you as Samoan too. Whether they see you as a “real

Samoan”, “100 per cent Samoan”, however, is a different matter. This judgement is unlikely based on where you were born, or how you refer to yourself but on less tangible factors such as your behaviour and, most importantly, your commitment to fa’aSamoa. Some communities are heavily politicised around issues of culture - commitment to fa’aSamoa - the Mangere region of south Auckland being such a community in my study. Here commitment to fa’aSamoa is what differentiates a “good Samoan” from a less respected and thus worthy member of the community. In other words, being accepted as Samoan is much more about the way you interact with the culture and community than about birthplace or how you refer to yourself. A second generation New Zealand-born Samoan, for example, can hold a more respected place in the community if they are active in the community – go to church, contribute to fa’alavelave, demonstrate fa’aaloalo for example – then a person born in Samoa, now living overseas, who does not. Indeed for many overseas-born Samoan there is a strong sense of pride in who they are and what they can contribute:

182 We have our own New Zealand-born Samoan pride you know. Often it is the New Zealand-

born Samoans who put their hands up to do things Samoan … any chance we get to put our

hands up we are there! The overseas born Samoans are trying really hard, even if their

language is not good enough, we speak loud and with pride about Samoa. We try to be more

100 per cent than 100 per cent sometimes. And it works a lot of the time; we are accepted

more than some others born on the island. Because they can see that we are really proud and

trying really hard and working for Samoa. Sepe, 27, Mangare, New Zealand

The influence of larger communities - Auckland in New Zealand, Sydney in

Australia and San Francisco in the USA for example – where fa’aSamoa is shaped, adapted and ultimately transformed is obviously substantial. By contrast I discovered that in yet other places interest in and commitment to fa’aSamoa was considered flexible. Furthermore, it was generally considered acceptable at both the individual and community level. This was predominantly the case when numbers of Samoans in a region was small,

Darwin for instance, or when the residents were also part of another strong sector of the community, for example, the military. Denise, a Samoan-born resident of Darwin, stated, “there is no fa’aSamoa here. We talk about it. Our respect stays. We call ourselves Samoan, at least around each other, but, really, we are Australian.” Despite this Denise works hard for the Samoan community in Darwin and obviously enjoys celebrating her Samoanness, especially on significant days such as Samoan Independence Day. Likewise she is seen as a leader amongst the Samoan community, not a cultural or religious leader, but a leader nevertheless whose role is fundamental to their community network. The point here is that Denise’s form and degree of cultural connectivity is acceptable to both her and her Samoan network.

183 6.1.1 Victor’s story

Victor, like Denise, currently lives in Darwin. Unlike Denise, however, he was not born in Samoa but to a Samoan father and papalagi mother in Wellington,

New Zealand. He describes his early life in Wellington as “living on the edge

[of the Samoan community].” He did not speak Samoan at home and was not really a part of any solid Samoan network. His father “sent money back home, secretly [without his mother knowing] ” but he left it up to Victor as to whether he wanted to go to church or join in with other Samoan-based activities. He says, however, that, “he has always thought of himself as

Samoan.” Today Victor is reclaiming a more ‘traditional’ Samoan identity than the hybrid-one of his youth and early adulthood. His journey to this point, a point where he now has a pe’a, a traditional knee to chest tattoo, has not, however, been clear-cut. Victor was an adolescent when his parents split and he moved to Australia with his mother. At this time he didn’t seek out other

Samoans at all and while he did meet up with some through rugby issues of identity were not forefront in his mind. He did visit Samoa when he was twenty one for his grandfather’s funeral, where people were “friendly, but cautious, suspicious of what they wanted, maybe land?” Despite a lack of engagement in his earlier years he was aware of his heritage for a long time, having been interested in getting a pe’a for over twenty years for instance.

Without a doubt part of his inspiration has come through his older brother who has been following his own path of cultural rediscovery – he is now formally studying the Samoan language and the culture at university level back in New Zealand. While this brother already holds a matai title both he

184 and Victor recognise that they can not become involved at the village level back in Samoa unless they link the title with fa’aSamoa. Victor is clear that “as an outsider you can not sit out here and look in and judge what’s happening, you have to be in there, doing it from the inside.”

Figure 15: Detail of Victor’s pe’a (Source: Author)

His brother, in particular,

Is learning it [the language], fitting in, and becoming part of it … I mean, we have always

felt a strong Samoan thing, but when you go there [and] you can’t speak the language, that

is the biggest barrier, so gaining credibility, respect, acceptance, that is his main focus

Victor sees the pe’a as “really powerful” and while he thought about getting it done over a long time, it was only after some uncles talked to him and his brother in Samoa about it that they decided the time was right. Their decision not to have the actual tattoo done in Samoa was about the formality and cost involved, “it is not just about the cost of the tattooist we were also told that we

185 would have to feed the whole village! [It takes up to three weeks]… and the family involvement is so huge, but we didn’t really have that backing in the village.” Eventually they arranged to have the pe’as done in Brisbane by a tufuga (traditional tattooist) who was visiting from New Zealand. They were told that they would be having,

A no-thrills pe’a, without all the pomp and ceremony and all the real flashy stuff. There are

a few basic customs and traditions that you have to observe and there is a ceremony at the

end of it, to finish it, but all the other gifts, the formal things, he said that we would not

worry about that. I do feel very protective of my pea, copyright and all, I would not let a local

tattooist take a photo for example, and it is my story, my family’s story. I feel so good, just

getting it done was really good having it finished was really good. I love it; it is just beautiful

… in myself I feel a lot better, a lot more Samoan. I am growing as a Samoan.

Victor’s story, while it shares elements of many others, is not that typical.

Despite his overt interest in his Samoan identity he has not up until this time, for example, been an active member of the Samoan community in Darwin.

This is, as he admits, likely a product of his upbringing; having a papalagi mother and Samoan father meant that his family was always floating at the edges of the Samoan community. Subsequently, his motivation to increase his connection to his Samoan cultural heritage does not appear to come from any pressure from the community in which he resides; it seems to be coming from within. Of course he is, at least in part, on the journey with his brother but it is very much their choice, not influenced or pressured from outside. By contrast they are very focused on increasing their involvement with their grandfather’s village in Samoa. His brother, especially, wants to be a village ‘decision maker’ and they are both interested in having a say in the way the village is, or is not,

186 developed. The size and disconnect of the Samoan community in Darwin has both enabled Victor the freedom to explore his own identity but, conversely, has not provided him with a strong diasporic community from which to gain direction or leadership. That is to say, that Victor’s sense of connectivity is not closely linked with his immediate cultural environment. He appears to have sidestepped the diasporic community experience by attempting to link directly with island-Samoa, family and village.

At the individual level then we can observe that issues of identity and culture are complicated and, moreover, the implications potentially weighty. It is on the collective level, however, where a lack of connection is of paramount importance; it is the collective position of the community that has the deepest impact on cultural transformation. One individual’s ‘degree of Samoanness’ may not have a large impact, but if the collective system is altered then the implications are many. This is why cultural commitment remains central to the success of the Samoan community, diasporic and island base. As it was in the beginning, when out migration commenced, the strength of fa’aSamoa remains fundamental to whether the total system continues to operate successfully. In other words, in order for the community, albeit transformed in its ways, to thrive, the collective must maintain committed to fa’aSamoa. This relates most particularly to larger well-established diasporic communities.

The era of migration is the third factor to be considered in this section. The previous section of this chapter discussed these eras in detail. The first, “Early

Migration: Duty or Adventure Bound” stressed how the majority of people who migrated during this era were bound by duty and bonded by

187 responsibility to the Samoan collective. Many of these people were the pioneers of the chain migration pattern subsequently established. Their commitment to the collective, to fa’aSamoa, as demonstrated by the sending of remittances and loyalty to island-based matai, was staunch. Even if they have not (yet) returned ‘home’ to Samoa their identity remains deeply rooted in their Samoanness. Many are now community leaders – either cultural (senior members of community groups or matai) or spiritual (ministers of religion or heavily involved in church activities). In regards to connectivity those in this group can easily be contrasted to those in the next era, the “Mid-phase

Migration”. The shift in focus from the collective to the individual seeded widely and compounded during this period; this shift has had an enduring effect on fa’aSamoa. Significantly also, it was during this time that the hub of political power swung from island-Samoa to the diaspora. Obviously these transformations were to have an impact on issues of identity; impacts such as the importance an individual or family place on cultural involvement and thus the degree to which they identify with fa’aSamoa. These impacts will be explored more closely through the case studies that follow. The current era of migration, “Contemporary Migration” is not similar to either of the previous periods and yet, as previously highlighted, borrows from both; there are those who occupy all positions on the ‘connectivity spectrum’. Youth, for example, who may be loyal to a

Samoan identity, perhaps exploring it through music and dance, can be contrasted to the professionally successful Samoan who has left Samoa to escape cultural burdens.

6.2 The Migration Pathway

The migration path, or fourth factor influencing connectivity, is the next point

188 to be discussed. It is clear that the path, including the number of times a person has moved from the country of origin has an effect on their identity.

Many Samoans in Australia, for example, have moved a number of times before reaching their current place of residence. Thomas, thirty-three years old, is currently living and working in a mining town in remote Northern

Territory of Australia; his migration story is not atypical. He was born in a village on the island of Savaii; moved to the capital, Apia, to attend school; studied at secondary school and university in both New Zealand and Fiji; secured employment and then citizenship in New Zealand; migrated to

Brisbane in Australia and then, finally, moved again to Nhulunbuy in the

Northern Territory. He has already moved over half a dozen times. The journey itself is not reason alone for a person’s sense of Samoanness to wane.

It does, however, provide the opportunity to encounter change, including alternate cultural norms, along the way. Those Samoans interviewed who had been on such a journey tended to acknowledge that their sense of

“Samoanness” was much less clear-cut than it once was. In part this is simply because they had taken so many ‘steps’ away from their original home. Most acknowledged also, however, that their sense of identity had broadened as a result of being subject to a range of cultural value systems and having to ‘fit-in’ in a variety of places. When viewed alone the migration path might not seem that important, but when combined with other factors, such as the size and cultural makeup of their final destination, it adds weigh to the discourse on identity.

189 6.3 Size and Pre-existing Identity of ‘Receiving’ Community

It is logical then to consider the size of the receiving community next. The number of Samoans residing in an area does appear to have a strong influence on issues of identity. The population groupings chosen for this study, as discussed in detail in the methodology chapter, were selected with the view to providing contrast. This is certainly the case when it comes to issues of identity. A ‘hybrid’ sense of identity is indeed common where people migrate to areas with less well-established Samoan community. The identity assumed does depend on what other groupings exist however. In Darwin, the smallest community studied, there were only around fifty Samoan-identifying Samoans at the time of the study, with a core group of approximately a dozen who are heavily involved in organising community events. Samoans there are likely to group together with other Pacific Islanders for both general and Samoan- specific community events. The reason for this it seems can be attributed to a number of factors. Most obviously, a lack of numbers means that a sense of identity from the ‘other’, that is the broader Darwin community (including more well-known ethnic groups and the indigenous population), is not so easily achieved. It does help, however, if the Samoans band together with other minority cultural groups, particularly other Pacific Islanders. The

“Cultural Village of The Northern Territory” project27, where Samoan community members worked along side of 8 other cultural groups from East

Timor, , , New Zealand (Maori), Papua New Guniea,

Philippines, Thai/Loas and the Torres Strait Islander, is a good example of

27 9 cultural groups received Centenary of Federation funding to construct a cultural village in Darwin and establish cultural education programs for primary aged students in the NT. One of the school-based education programs that was compiled was on Samoa.

190 such collaboration (Ingram 2002) . Blending culture, particularly for the purpose of public performance, is undeniably standard in multicultural

Darwin. The Darwin-based Sunameke dance troop, for example, has both musicians and dancers representing Australia, PNG, New Zealand (Maori),

Tonga, Samoa and Kiribati communities. Their performances cover both traditional and modern dance inspired from across the Pacific. Their aim is to mentally and physically blend traditional and contemporary culture. (The

University of Hawai‘i System) In so doing they are actively merging Pacific culture and identity; when the group dance they represent ‘The Pacific’ rather than any one given cultural group. Sunameke commonly appear at local

Darwin cultural festivals, such as the Fringe Festival and Royal Darwin Show plus at interstate events aimed at celebrating Pacific Island Culture, like the

Oceanic Connections Conference at ANU in April 2008.

Please see print copy for image

Figure 16: Darwin-based Sunameke Dance Troup with members from across the Pacific (Source: Oceanic Connections Conference http://www.hawaii.edu/cpis/dance/gallery/sunameke.htm)

191 The Celebrations of Samoan Independence Day28 in Darwin also illustrates this point well. The program for the 2006 festivities, for example, included dancers and musicians from New Zealand (Maori), Fiji, Cook Islands, Kiribati and Tonga. The evening was a blend of the general (The Pacific) and the specific (Samoan) culture. In addition to a limited Samoan population there may also be a lack of community members with the specific cultural or religious ‘qualifications’, particularly culturally-centric ceremony. At the time of my study in Darwin, for instance, there was no cultural leader who was also matai actually living in Darwin. While the Samoans that I spoke with generally expressed a desire to adhere to fa’aSamoa more closely, particularly on formal occasions such as Samoan Independence Day celebrations, they also openly admitted to not having a matai to guide them. Out of necessity they did improvised throughout the festivities, both in regards to who were involved in certain performances and how they were performed. The final siva (dance), the

Taualuga, should only be performed by an unmarried virginal taupou or high chief’s daughter. In Darwin this was not possible, although the dance did proceed. The traditional purpose of this dance is two-fold. First, to showcase a particular chief; his status reaffirmed through the skill, grace and beauty of his daughter. The dance was, and still is (as it was in this instance) also the finale.

28 As part of this study I took part in the celebrations of the “44th Samoan Independence Day” celebrations in Darwin 3 June 2006.

192 Please see print copy for image

Figure 17: Taualuga being performed at Darwin’s Samoan Independence Day celebrations, 2006 (Source: Author)

Despite the obvious limitations the dance was performed with great ceremony.

Moreover, the audience embraced it with no less enthusiasm and pride. In reality, therefore, the changes appeared not to distract from the respect demonstrated on the day or from the sense of celebration in their distinct sense of Samoanness. This having been said, an obvious ‘hybrid’ sense of identity was on display.

Dunedin, in the south island of New Zealand, is similar to Darwin in regards to the relative size of the Samoan population. Itattua first migrated to Dunedin at the age of 20 to work in a rope factory, describing it as “a small village like place; everybody knew each other.” She recalls that she mixed with papalagi all the time in Dunedin. The church, for example, was mixed. Likewise the

193 women’s fellowship was a mixture of palagi and other Pacific Islanders such as

Fijians, Tongans and Niueans. She was an active member of PASIFICA, an organisation founded in Dunedin to promote the rights of all women; Pacific women and papalagi women were involved. Essentially life in

Dunedin felt community-minded and supportive, but that had little to do with being Samoan. After Dunedin she moved to Auckland with her husband and children, only to discover a very different community. Here there was:

Fa’alavelave every weekend, weddings, funerals, twenty-first birthday celebrations,

graduations, christenings! Auckland had a lot more opportunities but life in Dunedin was a

lot easier, less complicated with very little [cultural] obligations. In Auckland her husband

was involved in so many Samoan things and she had to entertain everyone with food, malaga

and siva!

This transition was particularly hard on her children, who had never been brought up so strictly and with such a strong association with Samoans alone.

They, for example, got told they “talked posh” by other Samoans because the local kids spoke a kind of “broken-English”. Also, because her girls spoke mostly English at home people thought that they were not “true Samoans”, something that was insulting and hard to understand for her children who had always thought of themselves proudly as Samoan. For Itattua and her family their identity was never in question in Dunedin, they were Samoans. In

Auckland, however, they had the sense that you had to earn your Samoan

“badge of honour” by following a set of cultural rules and meeting obligations.

194 6.4 Shifting or Multiple Identity: Moving Between Selves

The concept of what I now term a “shifting identity” came to me through a number of study participants. It is the expression I use to encompass those interviewed who had a ‘different identity for a different space’. Tialamu is such a person. Born in Samoa in 1936 he migrated to Wellington, New Zealand when he was about 20 years of age. His reasons for migrating provide some insight into how he has been able to shift and adapt and yet still remain loyal to Samoa. He moved to New Zealand because his teachers back on the island inspired him – they all came from New Zealand so he learnt so much about it – plus there was a “trend to migrate”, he had friends who had already gone and he was in “an adventurous mood”. These factors combined with a desire to contribute to Samoa “in the long run” saw him take up an opportunity for factory work in New Zealand when it came along. He went with what he described as “an open mind” and this is the way he has approached issues of belonging and identity.

Ethnic wise I am still Samoan and when I am in New Zealand I am Samoan, simply that.

But when I am travelling [overseas] I am from New Zealand as well. Sometimes it is just

easier because more people have heard of New Zealand than Samoa, but I also do it out of

respect. Overtime I have developed such a respect in my heart for New Zealand as well. A

part of me is now from New Zealand as well. … Of course, there is always a clash

between worlds, but you become accustom to it. You realise you need to compromise; you grow

to accept your many faces and places and roles I guess. It is just the way it is. It was harder

when I was young, then I had points to prove. These days I shift in and out easily enough

though.

195 Changing identity to fit ones current circumstances is an adaptation process that has been assumed by many who wish to bridge between Tialamu’s worlds.

This is an increasing scenario made necessary by the formation of off-island communities; people have moved away from Samoa and traditional roles, thus needing to negotiate the complexities of a diasporic life. Second generation

Samoans are an obvious example of people who move in and out of different worlds, thus needing to adapt their identity as they go. Pipi, for example, spoke about how she referred to herself as a ‘Pacific islander’ on certain occasions, like when hanging out with a group of friends and being confronted by palagi who did not know any different. In this case she claimed it was:

Often easier to just go with the group identity, although there may be Maori, Cook Islanders,

Tongans etc in our group. We know the difference, so it does not matter to us at these times.

But other times, like at home or at church I am always Samoan, 100 per cent Samoan, that

is then it is most important to others, and me.19, Auckland

It seems that for Pipi, as long as she and the people who matter know that she is Samoan, she does not mind negotiating the ‘outsider’s view’. Likewise Fiona, when interviewed, referred to herself as “fully Samoan, 100 per cent Samoan, that is I was born in Samoa, but, yeah, sometimes I refer to myself as a PI, like when we go out we are ‘Islanders’!” Unlike Pipi and Fiona, Lucy, 28, was born in Auckland not Samoa. She openly refers to an “identity crisis” she had when she wanted to go to college to study teaching. In her early years she,

Just referred to myself as Samoan, but, later, when I went to college that somehow didn’t

seem enough, so I started calling myself a New Zealand-Samoan. But then I grew up and

married a Samoan-born-Samoan and had kids and now I am fully Samoan!”

196 The shift, as exemplified by Lucy, is not always trouble-free. In Lucy’s case the political environment around the time of her adolescents for a ‘Samoan-

Samoan’ was not good. Deep-seated racism against ‘Pacific islanders’ who were seen as “taking kiwi jobs” following the restructuring of the New

Zealand economy, combined with increasing rates of unemployment amongst

Samoans, resulted in a time that, “was very anti-Samoan, there were too many things going on, I was confused about who I was or maybe who I wanted to be.” She shifted in and out of identities for some time – Samoan at home, New

Zealand-Samoan at college and sometime even papalagi if she “could get away with it” (she is very fair skinned and well educated) Eventually, however,

Lucy settled on being “100 per cent Samoan”; she and her family are now very active members of the Samoan community, heavily involved in the church and contribute to fa’alavelave in New Zealand and Samoa.

Agnes, like Lucy, was born and raised in Auckland as one of an extended

Samoan family. Until she was eight she shared one room in an aunt’s house with her parents and three younger siblings. She described this house as a

“half-way house for new arrivals, until they moved on”. There were lots of other Samoan families where they lived, but in class at school there was only three other Samoan children. She says she felt “different” at school and “very embarrassed” when her mother would speak in Samoan. She did not go to a

Samoan church; “the main reason was our loss of language. My dad’s thinking was that we needed English to advance in New Zealand.” Many of her friends were brought up in a much stricter manner, speaking Samoan, only eating

Samoan food, attending ceremonies, knowing the correct behaviours and

197 social mores and with much more religion. While Agnes recognised all of these as valuable cultural vectors she tried also to fit in with her pakea friends once she was old enough – tried to have the right skin colour and “the look!” She stated clearly that:

I did not feel torn between my two worlds, I just moved between them. I guess I never thought

the two worlds would collide. Really, there was not a lot of pressure on me to be strictly

Samoan. I mean my parents saw family obligations as almost boring. My father, in

particular, was very impatient. So I saw my parents tolerate it rather than instill a huge

sense of reverence in us for fa’aSamoa.

Despite this Agnes did grow-up seeing herself as Samoan, albeit as a Samoan-

New Zealander. She is now living in Samoa itself, having moved back there two years prior to our interview with her palagi husband and two children to commence a local business. The great surprise for her is the way it has worked out though: she is not accepted as a Samoan now that she is living in Apia. So

“she was Samoan in New Zealand, but not here, here I am seen as a Kiwi!”

She says that this version of ‘shifting between’ is much more uncomfortable than when she moved between her Samoan household and her pakea friends when growing up. Ironically, her cousins and friends back in New Zealand

“see her as way more Samoan now that she is living here!” She muses that there are times when she feels more accepted as Samoan here, when they visit the village for example. But because she does not speak the language or always know the right way to act and runs a commercial business she, in her opinion, will always be seen as an ‘outsider’, shifting between identities. Daniel, like

Agnes, was born overseas but this time in Virginia, USA. Belonging to a military family they moved within the USA many times. He grew up:

198 Only hearing the good stuff [about Samoa], closeness of family, the support offered through

fa’alavelave … Growing up in the military there was no home so Samoa was the anchor, the

culture kept us grounded. I visited Samoa too, which was always a positive experience, so all

in I had a solid sense of identity as a Samoan.

When Daniel finished his schooling he “very consciously” decided to go back to Samoa for what he thought would be a one or two year visit. He ended up working for his family in both Samoa and American-Samoa in farming, fishing and a bakery. For him it was “a whole different life”. He was, however, treated like an afakasi (half-caste), which, in a Samoan sense (particularly at the time, c1960) was to be treated as an elite, which he was not comfortable with.

According to Daniel “it is left up to the afakasi to make the community work economically, so while we were treated special, ‘elite’ we were also excluded from being true Samoan!” Daniel had always just thought of himself as a

Samoan, he found the shift in his identity, one that he did not feel any control over, distressing. Agnes and Daniel’s stories hold resonance with Ella’s, another overseas born Samoa who returned to the island as an adult.

6.4.1 Ella’s Story

Ummm, do I feel more Samoan now that I am here in Samoa than when I was in New

Zealand? I act more Samoan, put it that way, I am more accepting of Samoan ways – I

have to be to survive! But if I go back to New Zealand I will go back to the way I was. Just

being Samoan in New Zealand is enough, but in Samoa that isn’t enough! I’m more

Samoan-wise now!! 47, Apia, Samoa

Ella, was born in Dunedin, on the south island of New Zealand, her parents, both from Samoa, having met there in the 1960s. She enjoyed a very free childhood and while her parents spoke Samoan at home and they went to a

199 Samoan church, she was brought up speaking English. She always referred to herself as Samoan, partially to distinguish herself from the Maori, but she also have relatives come to stay from Samoa. She admits to thinking of them as

“strange, their behaviour was different, and they were very dark.” She left

Dunedin for Auckland to attend boarding school later in her schooling – she found the transition difficult because life was much “more traditional”. She was also criticised because she spoke such good English, not the “pidgin/slang” of her new Samoan peers. Ella believes they spoke this form of broken-English because they did not mix that widely in the general community nor did they speak English at home. It is likely also that they spoke that way as a means of distinguishing themselves from non-Samoans or perhaps non-Pacific Islanders.

At school in Auckland Ella and her sisters were treated differently; for the first time she realised that there were degrees of Samoanness. Unlike the majority of other Samoans who migrated in the early era of out-migration Ella’s parents

“never had any intention of returning to Samoa”. Neither did they want their children to; both factors would have weighed heavily on their decision not to raise the children in a culturally strict manner. Her parents did, however, try to get them to become “more Samoan”. They did this so she and her sisters would fit-in better, but also because they themselves, having also moved to

Auckland, felt the pressure to conform. Notably, this meant that:

My parents found themselves much more divided by church and family commitments so that

they couldn’t spend time with us or give to their own children. We kids felt like time and

goods were taken away from us and my parents felt really torn.

Ella, despite her parent’s plans, was indeed to marry a Samoan-born-Samoan

200 and ultimately move to Samoa when he completed his degree (he was required because of a bond to return). Life in Samoa was hard for Ella:

I hated it because for six months I lived under the one roof with a new baby, my parents-in-

law and his brothers, etc. And he [her husband] changed! He became much more Samoan,

saying things like, “A Samoan wife should be …” And his parents did not accept me as

Samoan. But I always saw myself as Samoan and I would check with my Mum about my

behaviour, but they [parents-in-law] never accepted me! I was called things like afakasi,

New Zealand-Samoan and fia-palagi [want-to-be white person]

Ella felt like she was “an outsider” in the very country that she felt should have welcomed her. She grew up believing she was Samoan only to discover that

“she was not Samoan enough!” Ironically their rejection of her only strengthened her resolve to maintain that she is Samoan, but Samoa will never be home to her:

New Zealand will always be home! Samoa is the home of my children and my husband but I

am a New Zealander. A Samoan too, but a Samoan that belongs in New Zealand. I am at

home there. It is where I am accepted and my identity is not questioned. How ironic is that,

hey?!

Ella’s story exemplifies well the intricacies of negotiating the shift between identities, voluntarily or otherwise. There are many other instances where this can occur. It obviously applies to youth who belong to gangs as a case in point

– they may assume a very different identity from one instance to the next - particularly in the early stages of gang association. At some point they will assume a gang persona, however, and here they will move from ‘shifting’ to

‘multiple identities’. The difference is subtle, although in practice it is significant. The first group are those that move between selves, assuming

201 different identities depending on the situation. Many of this latter group are youth who are adept from an early age at negotiating multiple personas, some traditional, some modern. Samoan dancer, Neil Ieremia, founder and artistic director of New Zealand-based Black Grace Dance Company, who are world leaders recognised for “fusing traditional Pacific and contemporary dance forms”, for instance, refers to himself as a “Samoan New Zealand Creek Boy”.

The “Creek” being reference to his hometown of Cannon’s Creek where, when growing up, his mates and he referred “to each other as being black, and the coolest black was the blackest!” (O'Sullivan 2007) Here then we have an example of an identity that includes being ‘black’, a dancer, from a certain neighbourhood, a Samoan and a New Zealander. The point here is that Neil, and others like him, live within the totality of these identities all of the time – they own and conversely belong to them all – they do not move, or shift, between them.

For yet others interviewed, their identity was neither shifting or multiple, it was fixed. Like the “100 per cent Samoans” discussed earlier, a group clear about who they are and what they stand for. These people too are clear about who they are; it is not mutable. They are Samoan, yes, but not ‘simply’

Samoan. Examples of those that fell into this group included a minister and his wife:

We are Christian Samoans, not ‘just’ Samoan, not American-Samoan, not Americanised-

Samoan, we are Christians first and foremost, and we are Samoans too, we are Christian-

Samoans. Pastor Wayne and Gloria, Tacoma, Washington, USA

202 Others included those that held loyalty first and foremost to other sub-groups of the community, such as the military:

I am a military man first. Which means I am a patriotic American. I am also a proud

Samoan, I teach my children about Samoa, I take them home to visit, etc but my loyalty

has to be to the military and to America, that is the country I served with. Tuua, 62,

Tacoma, Washington, USA

6.5 Torn Identity: When “Samoan In The Heart” Might Not Be Enough

I commenced this section with a quote claiming that Samoa will always be “in the heart” of those in the diaspora, regardless of their individual sense of identity, belonging and Samoanness. It seems fitting to return to this point at the end. For some, such as Itattua, keeping Samoa in the heart is accompanied by a practical commitment to fa’aSamoa and her community across the diaspora:

I still keep my Samoan identity. I am proud to be a Samoan but at the same time I am

proud to be a New Zealander. At palagi functions I dress in Samoan clothes but I do things

in the palagi way. But, in my heart, I am proud always to be a Samoan! 64, Auckland

Being “Samoan in the heart” alone, however, is arguably not enough to sustain the Samoan identity. Where there is a 'disconnect' between heart, commitment and action the “Samoan Way” is threatened. Some who would claim a strong sense of Samoanness have also rejected fa’aSamoa. Leauma, for example, is very vocal about his denunciation:

I rejected culture after missing out as my school’s valedictorian [award] because my father

did not have a title. They gave it to another kid who did not work as hard as me or get my

marks, but his father was an ali’i. I wanted power elsewhere, because I could not have it

through the culture, so that is when I decided to study law. Fa’aSamoa takes up too much

203 energy, takes too much focus; I hate aspects of it, particularly fa’alavelave and the money

that goes to the church. 27, Tacoma, Washington, USA

Despite his discontent Leauma stressed his Samoan identity throughout our interview, referring to himself as a Samoan, even a “proud Samoan” on more than one occasion. Pointedly, however, these references were often tempered by discussions of culture and the difficulties of fa’aSamoa, the church and fa’alavelave. It is of great concern that there should be “separation of church and state”; clearly something that is a passionate belief of his. Therein lies the problem, however, because the church is a fundamental part of the current village-designed governance system of Samoa; there can be no separation. This is expressed succinctly by Senator Pulefa’asisina Palauni Tuiasosopo, Samoan high chief thus, “Family is sacred in Samoa, because it is given by God and the matai system comes to us from the family and thus directly from God.” (Tatge

2005). It is common when you ask someone a question such as, “What does it mean to you to be a Samoan?” that they a person will respond with both of the following points – to be a Samoan is to be a Christian and to be a Samoan is to follow “the Samoan Way”. If you subsequently ask them, “What is the Samoan

Way?” they will inevitably answer (at least in part) something akin to, “It is to be a Christian, being a Christian is part of being a Samoan, it is part of fa’aSamoa”. Ergo it is not possible to be a ‘good’ cultural Samoan and not be a good religious Samoan. Culturally then to be a Samoan is to be a Christian – this is the way it has been on Samoa since the coming of the missionaries in the

1830s. The church became part of the cultural system, it does not stand beside it; it is within it. In the diaspora the problem is compounded because the

204 church has assumed a village role (Va'a 2001), as Leauma put it “The church is the umbrella community here!” The implication being that if he and his wife want to be apart of the Samoan community in Tacoma then they need to be a part of the church, and the church and fa’aSamoa and, thus, fa’alavelave are so intricately linked. The burden of this association can be considerable, as stressed by Leauma, “It ain’t cheap to go to a Samoan church!” There is resentment about the money that the church receives from the congregation for example. At one church in Tacoma I was told that the church gets an average income of thirty thousand per family per annum. This was reputedly made up of three to five hundred dollars every month to the pastor as a standard contribution (I have heard of donations of one thousand per month for the pastor), fifty dollars a month to the church, further donations for fa’alavelave for all church (the new village) events such as weddings, funerals, christenings and on top of this people were expected to arrange and contribute to suegatupe (fundraising). It is worth reiterating here also that contributions are commonly a matter of ‘public record’, the detail of each is announced during a church service or event. A decision not to contribute, or to make a lesser “love offering”, is, therefore, equally publicly exposed. This is a system that effectively capitalises on traditional competition over resources and status.

Leauma and his wife are second-generation Samoans (he was born in Samoa but moved to American-Samoa at a young age and his wife was born in

America); part of a generation that are struggling with finding a balance between a Samoan cultural identity (collective) and living in a broader westernised world (individual):

205 The people who have lived here a long time are very fa’aSamoan. Younger generation are

finding it harder. My wife, for example, understands but does not speak Samoan – English

is her first language. She hates aspects of fa’aSamoa too, for instance, we were made to get

married. And weddings are very expensive. A really good traditional Samoan wedding can

cost one hundred thousand US dollars; you give away ten thousand to the family, etc. That is

such a burden and we did not want it!

Given the discontent and disconnect there is arguably the potential for

“Samoan” to become a label without culture. At the very least the system will need to accommodate tension, significant transformations and variations in regard to identity, and what that means. It may no longer be the case that, “As long as you are Samoan you have a culture that defines you.” (Pastor Wayne,

Tacoma, Washington, USA) The meaning of “Samoan”, being a Samoan, is no longer as straightforward as it once was. In no situation is this scenario less clear or thus more pertinent than when considering the lives of Samoan youth.

The following chapter proceeds to do this in detail.

206 CHAPTER 7: YOUTH CULTURE, THE STATE OF ‘INBETWEENNESS’29

There are people who belong to more than one world, speak more than one language

(literally and metaphorically), inhabit more than one identity, have more than one home,

who have learned to negotiate and translate between two cultures, and who, because they are

irrevocably the product of several interlocking histories and cultures, have learned to live

with, and indeed to speak from, difference. They speak from the 'in-between' of different

cultures, always unsettling the assumptions of one culture from the perspective of another,

and thus finding ways of being both the same as and at the same time different from the

others amongst whom they live (Hall 1996 cited in Butcher and Thomas 2003:15)

Typically Samoan-descended and overseas born youth are considered to be struggling in the diaspora. McGrath, for instance, in her study of Samoans living in Seattle, USA states that “… [Samoan youth] have the highest rate of

[school] expulsions and suspension, the poorest daily attendance, the lowest mean high school grade point average, and a high school dropout rate of 25 per cent. Teenage gang violence was the most common problem reported …

(2002: 319)“ Such examples of the difficulties faced by Samoan youth attempting to straddle two cultures are commonplace. According to Butcher and Thomas, however, youth culture should be seen in a more positive light, as a ‘living migration heritage’ that ‘appropriates traces of the past and present as its own’ (Butcher and Thomas 2003: 15). This section explores two common vectors embraced by members of this ‘migration heritage’, hip-hop performance and gang membership.

29 The term ‘inbetweenness’ is taken from Stuart Hall’s 1996 book, Questions of Cultural Identity. It was used by Melissa Butcher and Mandy Thomas to begin their 2003 edited volume, Ingenious: Emerging Youth Cultures in Urban Australia, concerning ‘second generation and migrant youth cultural fusions in Australia’ (Mitchell)

207 7.1 Hip-hop: Alienation or Cultural Expression?

Hip-hop is a popular performance art amongst young Samoans across the diaspora. It will be argued here that such performance, whether it is through actual MC-ing or listening, can be interpreted as a positive form of cultural connectivity, reinvention and evolution. There is, however, a strong link between the obviously less celebrated appeal of gang membership and the identity promoted by this popular youth sub-culture, heroes and icons. In a discussion about gangs, including Samoan gangs, in Anchorage, Alaska for example the police stress this connection ‘“You’ve got this style out there promoted by movies and music …You know, they all want to be like gangsters. That’s what these kids aspire to be”’ (Holland 2006). Thus, rap

(music) is closely associated with the formation of gangs and gangsters. The appeal of iconic Samoan or Samoan descended rappers, such as King Kapisi

(New Zealand) and Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. (Los-Angeles) is alluring. Their influence is embodied in their music or self-proclaimed reputations.

The Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. consists of six Samoan-descended brothers, all sons of a preacher. Ironically their first connection to music came about through the church as one brother explains: "My father was a minister of a church and we had to learn instruments to play at his services. We’d go in the morning and set up the instruments and play a lot of funk before folk came in."

(thesituation.co.uk 2003) Growing up in rough and tough in Los Angeles lead them to the production of “a distinctly authentic brand of gangsta rap” (Huey).

Moreover, as Huey goes on to explain, they were drawn to gang culture from an early age “as a survival tactic” and have all served prison time for drug or

208 weapon offences. Their attitudes and behaviour changed dramatically however after one brother was killed in a gang-related shooting:

The gangsta way of life came at a high price. At the time me and family was at war with

different enemies and he got caught up in the cross fire……y’know you gotta understand

you grow up in life with your brothers, and even though you’re in a war zone you don’t think

about losing someone, and when it happens to you can do two things you can get more

madder or you gotta run with it.” This changed all the brothers lives, Gawtti explained "It

made us choose whether we wanted to go war or to music. We chose the music because that’s

what he would have wanted. (thesituation.co.uk 2003)

At this time they moved out of Los Angeles and moved to Japan to form a successful rap dance group. These days they are back in Los Angeles producing music, claiming: “[We’re] not out there trying to scare the world.

We’re out there trying to bring good music”’ (Baraka 2003).

Please see print copy for image

Figure 18: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E (Source: Huey http://www.mtv.com/music/artist/boo_yaa_tribe/artist.jhtml#bio)

209 Notably however, the "Boo-Yaa" in their name signifies the sound of a shotgun being discharged, while the "T.R.I.B.E." stands for "Too Rough International

Boo-Yaa Empire." Thus, the reality is that their music cannot be disentangled from their former life style when they were closely attached to The Bloods, a street gang founded in Los Angeles. They are, to their fans, glamorous heroes,

‘brothers-in-arms’, ‘cool’. To a Samoan fan, however, above all else they are one thing more; they are Samoan! They are considered to have ‘made it’ through the maze of cultural mayhem and the battle for identity and their lyrics speak to many. It is easy to see how following them would have huge appeal:

I swear they are speaking to me man, I dig the beat, I want to dance, I feel alive. You know

what I mean? Like, they are saying what I feel. They are way way cool. So I dress like them

… they are my heroes. Not the fuckin’ minister or matai, what do they have to do with me?

Fuckin’ nothing! Mafa, 17, Seattle

It was not uncommon for people to talk to me about what they primarily saw as the negative influence of this brand of hip-hop. This was particularly the case in the USA, where the gap between youth and their parents typically seemed wider than in either New Zealand or Australia. One school teacher expressed his concern about the affect that it was having on the “youths” thus:

I’ve seen some changes … I’ve seen some changes in the younger generation. I think there is

a hip-hop culture influence. [This has] affected the Samoan society … it has affected

fa’aaloalo, respect, which it the epitome of Samoan culture …” Tom (26), Tacoma, USA

He went on to give examples of the types of behaviours that he felt typified this lack of fa’aaloalo – talking back to elders, not giving up a seat in the bus to an older person, growing their hair long, wearing baggy shorts and being

210 disrespectful to their teachers. Despite this negativity Tom also conceded that it was possibly not the music in isolation, but that it provided an avenue for personal expression and individualised identity. He was clearly caught between his understanding of youth needs and the knowledge that individualism is a threat to the collectivism that is fa’aSamoa.

King Kapisi, a Wellington-raised Samoan, on the other hand, writes hip-hop that is of direct relevance to everyday lives. The lyrics of “Scream from da old plantation” demonstrate this:

Chorus: Screams from da old plantation (non-stop) (Fai fai pea, fai fai pea)

Verse 1: You are immersed in a vision cultivated by this Samoan Strong is my brethren Samoa mo Samoa [Samoa for Samoa] Island brothers extend a vibe to the X…but the only X Samoans know is XXL OS equals over-sized, overstayers, over stretched last names Pick it up can you pronounce it Delete the error that began with ages Visual effects guaranteed by the flick of no brown man but not… Brown copper Polynesians has been exploited (sina oe) Come into my life I got to show you

Chorus: Screams from da old plantation (non-stop) (Fai fai pea, fai fai pea)

Verse 2: Its just my savage instincts coming back from the brink Revitalise the knowledge that we lost (you better think) Culture ebbing’s being lost in the ignorance from the ma to the pa to the child Wonder why your child is running round real wild Pass on the knowledge so the tongue leaves its cradle Or take them back home to the motherland and teach The ways of our elders lifestyles and the speech

Chorus: Screams from da old plantation (non-stop) (Fai fai pea, fai fai pea)

Verse 3: Enter the mind of a Hamo, Im just a psycho Ready to blow up the mic from into to outro Ballheads try to understand it doubtful (pitiful) Im from Savaii, village is Fagamalo When it comes to battling Im just an animal (Tiger) fix amnesia Second migration, we all playing homage to the old plantation We just playing homage to the old plantation

211 King Kapisi is an acclaimed hip-hop artist; early in his career receiving the coveted Songwriter of the Year Award at the APRA Silver Scroll Awards

(Mushroom Music Publishing 2004). He actively uses rap to encourage young people to look to and explore, ‘their Pacific roots’ (Zemke-White 2004: 221).

He expresses concern over lost culture and laments the lack of connection that many in diaspora have to their ‘island home’ or traditions. While, Kapisi writes about the ‘here and now’ of life in the diaspora he sees culture as an important anchor for young people. His message is not to turn your back on your elders, your culture, but to know them, understand them, use them as a personal foundation from which to grow and express yourself. His message is about the importance of the collective as a building block to personal fulfilment.

Please see print copy for image

Figure 19: King Kapisi outside Victoria University (Source: Te Ara Encyclopedia of New Zealand http://www.teara.govt.nz/NewZealanders/NewZealandPeoples/Samoans/5/ENZ- Resources/Standard/5/en)

212 For this reason, Kapisi’s work is perhaps more typical of a style that young

Samoans in New Zealand and Australia are drawn to. While it has been argued that early Australian Hip-hop was ‘infatuated by the violent, macho posturings of African-American ‘gansta’ rap … its boasting and bragging, … and a reiteration of gun rhetoric’ (Mitchell 2003: 202) this is no longer true of the present wave of young Pacific Islanders who dominate the Hip-hop scene in Australia. To them rap is not so much about a connection with gangs or gangsters but to their every day life including culture and tradition; as a way to

“document life”; it is reality based (MC Trey speaking in the film "Island

Style", Drago 1998). Like MC Trey performance artist, Cristal Clear, speaking on the same film, stresses the importance of keeping his verse to

‘what is real’, stating that he is not into rapping about “guns and bitches, gangster stuff”. His own message is to stay away from crime, which is something he is trying hard to do after ending up ‘inside’ when he was younger.

Dance, music and oration are, after all, typical forms of Pacific Islander expression. As such, when engaging in hip-hop or modern dance, many young people see that they are using a traditional vector, one that they were born to, to express modern ideas. Tofoitaufa, director of the Pacific Islander Centre for

Education and Development (PICED) in Pago Pago30, and herself a dancer,

30 This thesis is primarily concerned with Samoan living in or from Independent Samoa, where as PICED is in Pago Pago, the capital of American Samoa. Samoa was politically divided into eastern and western colonial territories in 1899 via the "Treaty of Berlin". The eastern side of the archipelago went to USA and western to Germany. Regardless of this division the culture was not then, nor has it been divided - fa’aSamoa is consistent across the islands. The cultural role of song and dance is thus also consistent across both Independent and American Samoa and throughout the Samoan diaspora.

213 expresses the vibrant connection between Samoanness and dance and music in the documentary Dances of Life:

Music and dance is an integral part of who we are as a people. We live our

culture day in and day out. We are born to music, we are born into dancing, it is

part of who we are (Tofoitaufa cited in Tatge 2005)

Arguably then, when Samoan hip-hop or rap artists in Sydney’s western suburbs are ‘hanging-out’ and taking part in open-mike MC-ing sessions to express their style, they are not so much denying culture as struggling with their own issues of identity within the culture. To this end the popularity of hip-hop culture is not ‘necessarily oppositional’ to fa’aSamoa (Katerina Teaiwa cited in Pacific Islanders in Communication (PICCOM)). In fact it can sometimes represent a return to culture or at least a desire to understand more about one’s heritage. Hip-hop appears to be a vector that Samoan diasporic youth can use to ‘rise above’ local struggles otherwise centered on class, culture and race. Contrary to expectations these “‘powerful divisions’ seem to be used as spring-boards for self-esteem, cultural affirmations, and creative initiatives.” (Zemke-White 2004: 225)

Butcher and Thomas summarise the writings of those concerned with second- generation migrants as having identified three broad categories that youth assume: an immersion in the culture of their parents, where they maintain the culture of the first generation immigrants; assimilation, where youth reject the first generation’s culture and adopt the culture of their new country; or where they develop a ‘bi-culture’, by selecting elements of both cultures until they develop their own identity and cultural ways (Guerra & White 1995: 6 cited in

214 Butcher and Thomas 2003).

All these scenarios are present in the youth interviewed during my study. The first are what are generally referred to as the “good Samoan kids”, they are the ones who conduct their lives most like they were still living back in Samoa – they are respectful, obedient, compliant and above all else, do not question their elders. They are likely to speak Samoan at home, look to the family for any ‘entertainment’ and attend and contribute to the church. “Pipi” is typical of this group. She migrated to New Zealand at the age of seven following adoption by her aunt and uncle. Despite the fact that she has been educated in

New Zealand (at the time of the interview she was about to commence her degree), has only returned to Samoa once for a visit, speaks English fluently and is a New Zealand citizen she refers to herself as “Always Samoan, True

Samoan.” She is strongly motivated by a desire to assist family “back home” and is fully intending to return to Samoa to teach when her degree is completed. Her behaviour reflects full compliance with fa’aSamoa – she speaks

Samoan around other Samoans, dresses appropriately conservative, is respectful of her elders, cares for her juniors and is heavily involved in church functions, both social (fundraising) and religious. By her own admission though she is often “at odds” with her peers over matters of discipline and obedience:

Personally I enjoy the limitations [placed on me by my elders]. I appreciate my strict

background because it has given me a strong sense of who I am and where I belong … and I

know how to get it right. I often have clashes with my friends though. A lot of kids from

school break family rules … and they give me a hard time because I am not interested. But

I’m OK with that. Pipi, Auckland, 20

215 The path is not always easy for Pipi, but she is clear on her direction and is at peace with her decisions. This means that she has (thus far) avoided the angst that many young people in the diaspora experience. Those who have adopted a gang lifestyle fit into Butcher and Thomas’ group that reject the culture of their elders. The second group is typified by those whose chosen lifestyle is alienating. It often involves crime, violence and weapons. The last group is perhaps those like MC Trey (see lyrics in box below), Cristal Clear and Leo

Tanoi featured on the “Island Style” documentary (Drago 1998) – young

Pacific Islanders who are expressing a blend of tradition and modernity using contemporary forms of expression such as hip-hop.

It’s happening in your city Despite the smiles it aint no pretty …kids bored … experimenting with drugs Natural highs no longer enough … cries for help Its happening in your city Right here, right now, downunder I’m statin the obvious Babies having babies Ladies manipulated My brotha’s doing time So many stories to tell… So many emotions … Dealing with the younga genna Dealing with the younga genna (MC Trey performing on "Island Style", Drago 1998)

216 MC Trey’s lyrics illustrate the way that hip-hop is used to express the struggle that young second-generation Pacific youth are experiencing – issues of belonging, power, race, alienation, cultural-confusion – the medium seems to act as a vital spring-board ‘for self esteem [and] cultural affirmation’ (Zemke-

White 2004: 225). Without music or dance Samoan youth in diaspora would perhaps be devoid of a positive avenue to express their thoughts, feelings and desires. Butcher and Thomas stress the importance of this fundamental need thus:

Finding an outlet for cultural expression and activities to enjoy, or finding

representations of ourselves that we can relate to, is a basic human impulse, and

part of how we define the spaces in which we are most comfortable (Butcher and

Thomas 2003: 16)

The strength of the need to express one’s ideas, opinions and desires then should not be underrated. Young Samoans, not unlike their peers in general, do have opinions and a desire to express them. For them, however, the frustration is more pronounced because of the hierarchical system they are born into. Fa’aSamoa is founded on fa’aaloalo (respect) whereby elders

(parents, ministers and matai) must be treated with absolute reverence. As

TiaTia expresses this is just one of the conflicts that second-generation Pacific island youth experience:

In one way we [youth] are Pacific Islanders toiling in predominantly European

society that does not seek to understand or fully acknowledge our cultural

uniqueness. On the other hand, within our own societies, we are the silenced

western educated voice, ignored because we may be a threat to Pacific Islander

cultural traditions (1998: 1).

217 Fa’aSamoa is based on collectivism and usita’i (obedience). Conversely the western education system encourages individualism and critique; young

Samoans are caught between these opposing approaches. On the one hand they are meant to obey without question and on the other they are advised to assess critically and offer opinions. To this end, young people, within their own culture, may be referred to derogatively as palagi (European) or fiapalagi

(someone who seems to want to be a European). On the other hand, those outside of their cultural community most often labelled as “Pacific Islander”

(TiaTia 1998: 6). Ironically, they often feel as if they belong to neither.

It is not surprising then that young Samoans in the diaspora look for the means of their own to express themselves. Equally it is not surprising that they would choose to do this through dance and music, two forms of expression that they are nurtured into from birth. Forms of expression that are culturally consistent; the messages may be different, but the avenue for representation is the same. Indeed, western Sydney based Samoan hip-hop artist Leo Tanoi argues that MC-ing is a contemporary way of expressing traditional oratory; for him links to culture are both real and positive:

In the climate of our people today we need to focus. As Pacific Islanders if you

are doing hip-hop, man you better go to the history books, go talk to your

people. Start rapping about here, where your feet touch the ground, why you

can’t make it, and how you are going to make it and why you want to make it.

Our real strength and riches is our culture … (Leo Tanou, speaking on "Island

Style" Drago 1998)

218 Conversely, while young Samoans are using rapping to express themselves, in an example of cultural hybridization, hip-hop moves are turning up in traditional dances. There is, for example a contemporary form of the men’s fast moving fa’ataupati, or slap dance, which is said to “contain hip-hop and other dance genres without losing the basic rhythm and style of the original dance”

(Pacific Islanders in Communication (PICCOM)).

7.2 Gang Membership

Please see print copy for image

Figure 20: NiuZila (New Zealand) youth “wearing colours” (Source: Niu Sila 2009)

Young Samoans see a positive relationship between hip-hop and cultural identity, relevance and sustainability; many others, as I have argued above, are supportive of this view. While I do not suggest that gang membership is similarly positive, there are aspects of membership that some youth see as an extension of fa’aSamoa. In making a connection to what they see as fa’aSamoa they are, in their own way, paying respect to the culture. One of their voices expressed it so:

219 My uncle used to tell me about life in the village, about the chiefs and stuff. How people had

to respect them and do what they say. Powerful men, hey?! Well, I don’t get that here, not in

that way, so we try and make our own respect. We respect our own leader, our chief and we

try and be straight-up and look out for each other! It makes me feel as if I belong to

something, it is my culture, you know, just trying to be strong and look after my brothers,

my kin … Mafa, 17, Seattle

Although Mafa’s ideas would be widely considered ‘misplaced’ (gangs are rarely seen as having anything positive to contribute to Samoan life) he and his

‘kin’ do see gangs as having cultural links and relevance. In regards to developing positive relationships with youth, the importance of acknowledging this view is obvious. The links that Mafa was making are based on a few aspects of Samoan gang membership worth expanding upon. As is the case with gang membership, Fa’aSamoa is based on the supremacy of the collective over the individual. Like the traditional structure on which Samoa is founded the collective is central to the gang; each and every member must put the collective first before individual needs or desires. If this were not to occur the gang would not exist, the gang would not have a cohesive identity, be united; simply put, it would not function (at least not successfully). Moreover, like the fa’amatai system the gang has a structure that is based on a recognised order of things, recognised roles within. Accordingly, gang leaders must earn the right to be in their position and they must act with strength and wisdom if they are to remain respected and uncontested. A strong gang leader, like a strong matai means that the gang has access to resources – territory, members who are willing to ‘serve’ and finances. The loyalty of members is paramount, but loyalty is only forthcoming if the leadership is seen as strong. Likewise there is

220 a constant battle over resources between gangs. The often brutal warfare over

‘patch’ for example that we witness amongst gangs can arguably be compared to the contests over land that are common in Samoa – contest that would have once been won or lost in battle but are now settled in the Lands and Title

Court. Unlike music and dance however, which can be argued as a complementary, or at least non-threatening extension of traditional activity, gang membership is a heady mix of cultural activity and defiance of the very cultural power structure that it is founded on. On one level, for instance, gangs are a very modern phenomenon but on the other they are ‘primitive’, ritualistic in their form.

Given these parallels, gang membership can potentially be seen as a not wholly destructive force but as a venue whereby youth can be creative and explore solutions, options for the future. This would only occur, however, if gang members were open to working with others to explore these solutions and if those with the power outside of the gang structure were, likewise, willing to acknowledge the gang system and its potential as a conduit for positive change. Contrasted against involvement in music and dance, however, gang membership is rarely seen in a neutral or positive light. Indeed many in my study argued that gang membership was a response to a lack of culture. There is no doubt that the incidence of youth-based crime and gang membership is both significant in number and affect. It is a subject of paramount distress in the diaspora. Undoubtedly this is primarily related to the crime and ‘waring’ activity. It is also because they are generally seen as being ‘outside’ the fa’aSamoa system of governance and thus beyond the reach of the community

221 and thus ‘out-of’-control’. Paradoxically then, membership is not only blamed on a lack of cultural understanding but the primary response to such a situation, the enacting of fa’aSamoa, is no longer a viable disciplinary option.

As one interviewee expressed it:

I know some kids there [in Auckland] that formed gangs and got into trouble. It was

because no one had taught them right; they were not brought up with fa’aSamoa. You know

they call themselves ‘PI kids’ [Pacific Islanders], not Samoans because they do not know or

don’t care about fa’aSamoa. They dress in palagi-gang-style clothes like, the baggy pants,

muscle t/shirts, hair in Afro with different colours in it, they listen to rap music and do the

break-dancing … they don’t listen to anyone, they don’t even know to be scared [of elders]

… they just think they are, too cool, for all of that … Eva, 16, Apia, Samoa

Despite her own battles with identity (as a someone who has travelled back and forth between Samoa and New Zealand) Eva did not envy them their freedom stating that she “felt very different to them”, seeing them as “lost”. She also pointed out an important element about gangs, that is that these kids think it is fashionable to be in gang, not necessarily because they are Samoan or

Pacific Islander, but because they just think gangs are the “thing”. Without being aware of it Eva is engaging in a much broader discussion about gangs in society. Thus it is important to acknowledge gang formation in the context of broader social change. Specifically, there has been a significant rise in the formation of gangs and petty crime across society. A USA Department of

Justice report in 2001 concluded that, between 1970-1998, the number of US cities experiencing gang activity rose from 286 to 4,800 with a corresponding increase in gangs from 2,000 to 31,000, with approximately 846,000 members

(Cited in Mafaituuga 2003). Moreover, as Giddens argues, there are two basic

222 changes happening in the world today as a result of globalisation. Firstly, public institutions and private lives in the western world “are being opened from the hold of tradition” and secondly, more traditional based societies are

“becoming detraditonalised.” Elsewhere, in the same lecture series, he reasoned that these changes are at the “core of the emerging global cosmopolitan society” (1999). Such a society is becoming more evident across the Pacific, at least in the urban areas. In Apia, the capital of Samoa, for example, where the fast food chain McDonalds has existed for over a decade, one can now find ‘trendy’ al fresco cafes where it is possible to order

‘cappuccinos’ and ‘vegetarian wraps’.

Figure 21: “Trendy” al fresco dining, Central Apia, Samoa (Source: Author)

These cafes remain out of bounds for the majority of villagers - for both social and financial reasons – but they are popular with both Samoans who have returned to Samoa after time in the diaspora and young ‘upwardly mobile’

Samoans who remain, at least for the time being, in Samoa. At the suggestion

223 of the interviewee I conducted more than one interview in these cafes. Any concern held by me that the location was chosen to meet my needs was soon allayed, however, when I observed their familiarity with the surroundings.

Apropos to this Samoan youth today are growing up in a very different world to that of their parents, and not just because of location. To begin with, politically, they are living in a democracy. While the islands of Samoa are now a democracy in their own right, there is a distinct contrast between the village- based governance system, fa’amatai, and the Westminster form of national government. Fa’amatai, in this context, is the power structure that both supports and drives Fa’aSamoa. TiaTia expresses the all-inclusive nature of this system when she defines fa’aSamoa as ‘… an ordering of a society of the highest kind. It refers to social order, the economic order, historical order and moral order for Samoan people.” (1998: 21). Matai still occupy a very strong position at all levels in the overall governance system of the country; it was not that long ago that only matai were eligible to vote in national elections. In

Samoa, even today, there is a uniquely Samoan-style of democracy in place.

Giddens defines democracy as:

A system involving effective competition between political parties for positions of

power. In a democracy, there are regular and fair elections, in which all

members of the population may take part. The rights of the democratic

participation go along with civil liberties – freedom of expression and discussion,

together with freedom to form and join political groups or associations. (1999)

Universal suffrage is now in place in Samoa. While still evolving, clearly the first part of Gidden’s statement, that which pertains to elections and

224 participation, is applicable to their system of national government. However the antiquated and often stern fa’amatai style of village leadership, where, in the strictest sense, only high-status individuals can openly express ideas and contribute to decisions, is in contrast to the philosophy behind democracy.

Youth, in particular, feel disenfranchised by the fa’amatai system of governance and, in addition, they often challenge its relevance to their lives.

Notably, this very system has also been exported to all parts of the diaspora; as reasoned elsewhere it is a system that is under considerable stress in the diaspora. This is well illustrated by the conflict that exists between youth, seeking to express themselves, as is their right and expectation under a democratic system, and a traditional system with clear lines of generational status and power. Young people have very different expectations than their parents had when it comes to involvement in decision making and being able to determine their own path. This emancipation is in direct conflict with fa’amatai, a system that is founded on fa’aaloalo (respect) and usita’i

(obedience), which demands that elders be wholly deferred to (TiaTia 1998:

2). So, on the one hand youth are ensconced in a broader society that embraces ideals of individualism and personal choice and yet they are expected to respect and obey their parents and elders, without question. The cost of this dichotomy is high. Youth are caught between two worlds – on one hand tradition and culture and on the other western modernity – it is within this context that many seek a new identity, a new framework. Some are

‘reinventing’ tradition in a sense. We can see this in a rise of traditional-styled tattooing across the diaspora and in the fusion of traditional music and dance

225 with modern forms of expression such as rap. Others seek security and identity through gang membership.

Mafaituuga summarises the literature on contributing factors behind gang membership as including ‘social factors such as poverty, environmentally induced and socio-economic inequality; immigration and the media…’ (2003).

Similarly, an earlier study aimed at examining the causal factors behind youth membership of a Sons of Samoan (SOS) gang in Hawaii, worked on a model that combined social control theory and “multiple marginal perspectives” such as ‘weakening attachment, commitment, involvement and belief’. This study concluded that weakening ties with parents, school tolerance of gangs, early negative experience with the law, flagging participation in religious and cultural ceremonies, all combined with the powerful influence of the SOS gang

‘effected gang members’ belief in conventional culture’ (Hingano 2000).

Notwithstanding such contributing factors, the motivations for joining a gang are complicated and, in the case of Samoan youth, are arguably about seeking a sense of ‘belonging’, security, respect and love. In his study Mafaituuga concludes that precipitating factors also include disinterested parents, family problems and a ‘desire to gain a sense of freedom from familial and cultural expectations’ and that youth are likely to join gangs while seeking an independent identity (2003). Likewise, the Hingano study stressed that ‘gangs offered them [the youth] what social institutions failed to provide [and] As a result they joined the SOS’ (2000). Yet another study summarises the key reasons provided by the youth as to reasons to join gangs as:

1. To be cool and popular;

226 2. To gain respect/to be seen as strong 3. To indulge in illegal activity/commit crimes 4. Because of peer pressure 5. For protection, and 6. Because of a lack of other things to do (Chesney-Lind et al. 1998, p 26 cited in Hingano 2000)

The findings of all of studies are consistent with the concerns expressed by peers, parents, ministers, matai and other community leaders alike in my own study. There is a strong sense that young people have been culturally ‘left behind’ in the diaspora. The change in ‘community’ structure, for instance, is regularly discussed. Whereas once youth would have lived in a village setting, surrounded by village members including grandparents and other ‘aiga members, they are now likely to live in a house in a suburb, where they may not even know their neighbour. The former of these settings ensures that someone always knows where young people are and what they are doing and, as a result, there is always someone to care for them and show leadership.

Implicit in this system are also challenges of course, particularly a lack of privacy for the young people and a much-touted sense of being ‘smothered’.

For the purpose of this discussion, however, it is important to contrast this setting with that which regularly exists in the diaspora. For a start, it is now usual for both parents to work outside of the home with shiftwork not uncommon. Home is commonly a place that young people return to alone after school with only peers and siblings for company. They may have chores to do but there is little doubt that they have much more personal freedom than

Samoan youth in Samoa. It is easy to imagine that youth who are already torn

227 between belief systems and cultures, who now have time on their hands and a lack of parental supervision may well look outside of the home for a sense of belonging, or identity. What may start as social networks, many school-based, can readily, in the right environment, evolve into a web of gang, or gang associated activity. Evidence for this trend is featured in the ‘The Gangs of

Zion’ where reporter Tim Sullivan (2005) highlights what he refers to as a

‘search for identity – and for escape from a seemingly unstoppable cycle of violence’ amongst Polynesian youth:

At a school multicultural performance one clear evening in early May,

Polynesian middle school students run down the auditorium aisle onto the stage

as their peers beat on drums and the audience lets out primal whooping. The

boys are shirtless and dressed in traditional blue skirts. They perform the lapa

lapa, a high-energy Samoan dance usually reserved for weddings, luaus and other

celebrations. At no point during the dance does the hormonal screaming die

down. After the performance, the sweaty boys change into street clothes and

gather in the halls. They say they are not gang members – yet.

This scene is typical of that repeated across many schools and social venues.

Young Samoans, for safety and fellowship, group together with other Samoan, or, in some situations with Polynesian youth. They will tell you that this is the only time they are ‘chilled’; it is also clear that it is the time when they feel most comfortable with their own identity and place in the world. Sullivan’s article also stresses the duel life that many Gang youth lead. He explains using the photo that follows that many of those displaying “gang symbols” at the

Club that night attended “services at the Mapusage Ward, a Samoan-speaking congregation of the Mormon Church. Such seemingly opposing acts are

228 testimony to the duplicity and degree of complication within their lives.

Please see print copy for image

Figure 22: At the Manhattan Club in downtown Salt Lake City, Pacific Islanders flashed gang symbols and both traditional and gang-related tattoos. (Source: Sullivan 2005)

‘Tuu’s exclamation during one interview typifies the depth of concern expressed about such issues however:

Young people are such a problem now! Too much modern business, too much foreign

influence. They are drinking beer, smoking marijuana, petty thief all the time. … Firstly, I

blame the parents – they need to show good behaviour. Also the church and the village council

[fa’amatai] need to be strong, stronger. The whole community needs to work together,

otherwise we will loose them forever!” ‘Tuu, 43, Auckland

Despite this grime reality of ‘lost’ one and a half and second-generation youth crime, Samoan seniors, at least publicly, have an almost sanguine attitude towards the future. Much hope is still placed in the resourcefulness of fa’aSamoa and fa’amatai to maintain order and secure a vibrant future for young Samoans. Consistent with fa’aSamoa being based on Christianity there is a widespread belief in the continuing importance of the church in the life of youth. As one study participant expressed it:

Gangs are about identity. [So] Youth need to be involved in the church. Kids need the social

and spiritual structure of the church [not necessarily religious]. Samoan culture is rooted in

229 Christianity. Not only the Divine Healing, but the human healing from the group … the

whole [church] community needs to be involved to help them [find their identity]. The

church is the village here. It is really hard here to be a Samoan and not go to church because

it is where the Samoan culture, the Samoan identity is …” (Pastor Luke, 50, Tacoma,

Washington, USA)

To this end authorities, police and Samoan community leaders alike, stress the importance cultural and religious leaders and youth working together to find solutions. A standard response to a rise in youth crime and/or gang activity is to call upon influential members of the Samoan community to assist. One typical newspaper report states ‘Samoan Chief Tuimavave Auela and Tongan chief Mau Fatongia stood shoulder-to-shoulder [at the] Police Department to address violence amongst Pacific Islanders and plans to quash it … “This generation is a generation that needs to have peace in their lives,” Willie Uili, a pastor from the Samoan community said. “The concern in the community … is we want to have unity …”. The crimes in question involved inter-gang violence with drugs and alcohol implicated. The solutions touted included unity marches, a Youth Summit and the introduction of “community street teams”

(Pakula 2007). An approach that reaches across generations, linking community leaders (religious and customary) and youth, is characteristic of stories reported in relation to gang activity in Alaska (Unknown 2006),

Redwood City (Dearen 2005), San Francisco (Van Derbeken 2005) and

Auckland (Crewdson and Manuka 2005). Youth centres are common in troubled areas. Centres such as The Samoan Family Support and Youth

Leadership Centre in Tacoma were visited as part of my own fieldwork:

230 Figure 23: Family Support and Youth Leadership Centre, Tacoma, Washington State, USA (Source: Author)

In that centre they distribute food packages to those in need and provide a safe place for young people. They also try to provide leadership to these young people, to show them ‘right from wrong’ and give them guidance in lieu of the direction they would have once received through traditional structures. One matai spoke to me about the changes that he has witnessed in the way that

‘youth issues’ are dealt with:

There is a huge danger because of their exposure to the modern way of life … it is having an

impact of culture … it is a huge change agent for these young people, their parents and the

system. It is the system that should be responsible to address this problem. In the past the

village council would instill a fine on young people who caused trouble. Now the church,

village and government are working hard to try and find ways to address things [such as]

drinking, smoking, teenage pregnancy, sexual abuse, violence, and disrespect … the full

community needs to work together …'Pena (50) Auckland

231 The problems associated with youth disassociation with fa’aSamoa are not limited to the diaspora. If diaspora-raised children return to Samoa when young, generally ‘all is forgiven’, that is they are pampered and not expected to know too much. It is when they reach adolescence that difficulties begin to show. They may be teased for their lack of language and cultural ignorance – thinking they have come ‘home’ only to find that they do not fit here either.

All I did was walk through the village eating coconut! How was I meant to know that is

considered rude in Samoa? No one ever stopped me walking and eating in Auckland. I knew

not to eat in church and to be polite to old people, but ….! Anyway, this was just one of the

many times I got laughed at and felt angry and shamed. It seemed to me sometimes that

they could not wait for me to make my next mistake. If it hadn’t been for my cousin looking

after me…! Sometimes It made me just want to go home. Which was really confusing

because I had thought I was coming home! (Sonya, 18, Auckland)

They may return to the diaspora more confused than ever. Or, in some cases, they return with a stronger commitment to learning fa’aSamoa. For some however returning to Samoa does feel like “coming home”. This can be regardless of whether they were born in Samoa or the diaspora.

Those who do not return overseas, who have perhaps only migrated for a visit or period of study, can find it equally hard to readjust to village life. Samoans in Samoa, for example, are likely to disapprove of behaviours, dress or attitudes that were considered acceptable in the diaspora. Sela expresses this displeasure when discussing the youth that have returned:

232 Youths, when they come back [to Samao] they come back with bad attitudes like

disrespecting fa’aSamoa or perhaps heavy drinking, sexual activity, risky dress … people go

overseas for a visit but when they come back they have seemingly forgotten what is important

… Sela, 44, Apia, Samoa

Of course there are some young people who are brought up in the diaspora in a very strict manner. We met Pipi earlier who certainly falls into this category.

Fiona too was brought up with fa’aSamoa and considers herself “100 per cent

Samoan”. Unlike Pipi though, Fiona has found it difficult at times to comply with the severity of the restrictions. She felt the ‘culture clash’ particularly during her adolescence. She was not allowed to have or attend ‘sleepovers’, go out at night or have a boyfriend for example and like Pipi “some of her friends rebelled.” Fiona’s resentment about the freedom that young people have in

Samoa is possibly the most unexpected item she raises, for, according to her:

In Samoa now you see young people holding hands, drinking, smoking, you know they are

having sex … they are more palagi than the 100 per cent Samoans here in New Zealand!

This feeling that Samoans are ‘more Samoan in the diaspora’ is not confined to youth or to those in New Zealand. Janes discovered a similar phenomenon in his Californian study where some interviewees described their ‘stateside’ community as ‘more integrated, more religious, and more adherent, to fa’aSamoa’ than the particular part of Samoa they come from (1990: 60). Such, tightly bonded networks in the diaspora can, paradoxically, provide a sense of identity, comfort and security but also be repressive; for some the insular nature of these communities is isolating and suffocating. Notwithstanding this the evidence suggests that young people like Pipi and Fiona would have on the whole enjoyed more social freedom as a result of being raised outside of the

233 island. While there are indeed now young people in Samoa who are acting papalagi and thus commonly referred to as fiapalagi they are still in the minority; they are the exceptions. Moreover, such behaviour does not come without a significant cost. This is particularly the case in the villages. I was often told, “what you can get away with in town, you would never get away with in the village.” This is a reflection of the prevailing belief that Apia, the capital of Samoa, is not “the real Samoa.” The real Samoa is considered to be out of town, where tradition remains strong, particularly on the island of

Savaii.

There is, however, no doubt that life for youth in Samoa is also in transition and that, in fact, some of their cousins overseas might start to envy them their freedoms. Whereas Samoa was once considered a ‘backwater’ almost devoid of opportunity for young people, this is changing. Some young people are now considering staying in or returning to Samoa. The lifestyle is indeed considered ‘enviable’ in some regards by most that have left Samoa. It is thought of as easy, warm, and now, with things like electricity, cars, good housing, also ‘comfortable’. There is a sense in the diaspora that life in Samoa is improving all the time and that many of the challenges faced by those living in the diaspora are not present in Samoa. Along with this sense of increased opportunity has come a group of Samoan youth who are now actively looking to build their careers in Samoa. They are not ‘desperate to get out’ like the youth of the 1980 and 1990s; those discussed in the previous section, Migration

& Motivation.

234 Elders overseas have, in the majority of cases, allowed their children more freedom; freedom of expression, of action, than if they had remained in Samoa.

Ironically, while they may see this as “a necessary evil” they know that what they want most for their children is to be successful in ‘the new world’ and so they have to let them find their own way; blend in.

The journey for second generation Samoans in the diaspora is fraught. Issues of identity are both considerable and crucial. The battles that young people fight within and ‘without’ do, however, provide us with useful insight into a culture in transition. The pressure on them is considerable; many see them as the pathway forward. I end with a quote and accompanying photo posted on a

New Zealand web-based discussion forum:

It’s an exciting time to be young, brown, and proud. Our youthful composition means that

New Zealand’s future workforce will be made up of mostly Pacific Islanders (and the

majority being Samoan). This means a lot, politically, economically and socially. Rather

than a fringe sub group of a multi-cultural society, Samoans will be a force to be reckoned

with.

Please see print copy for image

235 The flip-side is that Samoans need to pick up their game. We need to upskill, we need to

achieve better at school, we need to better ourselves if we want to make use of our future

demographics. Mainstream New Zealand will soon wake up to the fact that the health of

their Pacific countrymen/women dictates the future health of New Zealand society.

But the onus is on us… (Niu Sila 2009)

There is no doubt that the challenges faced by Samoan youth are sobering.

Nevertheless I conclude this chapter by bringing it back to Butcher and

Thomas’ (2003) ‘living migration bridge’. Like them I would argue that youth culture should be seen in a more positive light. Certainly youth are ‘bending’, transforming and adapting culture such that it is enacted in new forms.

Arguably this is not a way of dismissing nor supplanting culture but maintaining it, keeping it relevant and alive. Ultimately opportunities exist to both link eras and generations and, in the process, seek out creative pathways so that community solutions can be found.

236 CHAPTER 8: A FATAL BLOW?

There were two overarching aims to this thesis. The first was to contribute to the discussion regarding globalisation and its impact in the South Pacific. The second was to study why, when faced with change, some cultures remain strong while others do not. In order to fulfil these aims concurrently, I set out to explore the impact of a contemporary set of circumstances on an indigenous

Oceanic culture. Samoa was chosen as a case study for two main reasons.

First, Samoa, like many other South Pacific island nations, is increasingly engaged with the ‘global’. More crucially it was selected because its culture, fa’aSamoa, is celebrated for its resilience. Like all cultures fa’aSamoa has undergone change. Unlike some cultures, however, Samoa has effectively navigated its way through a multitude of outside influences; the opening up of the islands to trade, the coming of Christianity, occupation by foreign forces, colonialism and globalisation to name a few. Today, it is generally considered to be both socially and economically favourable to many of its close neighbours.

Contemporary emigration was chosen as the primary conduit of change for a number of reasons. First and foremost in recognition of the degree of impact it has on Samoa and Samoans but also because it remains part of a ‘continuous conversation’ within the Samoan population. Emigration has scattered the

Samoan people beyond what would conventionally be considered their cultural and physical boundaries. Their attempts to negotiate this change are pivotal to this thesis. My intent was to exemplify the adaptation process so as

237 to illustrate change and change processes. In so doing I was concerned to both tease out points of tension or negotiation and, ultimately, to speculate as to what the future might hold. In order to achieve this I problematised what were judged to be indicative areas of susceptibility: fa’amatai, the indigenous system of governance, the shifts in motivations behind people’s decision to migrate and changes around personal, group and community identity.

The findings of this research are detailed in chapters four to seven inclusive:

Cultural Transformation & Representation; Migration Motivation; Connectivity,

Identity, Belonging & Samoanness and the final chapter in the empirical section

Youth culture, the state of ‘Inbetweenness’. Chapter 4, Cultural Transformation &

Representation focuses on changes to the fa’amatai system of governance. The matai are the cultural-political leaders of Samoa, collectively they form fa’amatai, or the Way of the Chiefs. Responsibilities of the matai range from day to day leadership, including resource management, to being accountable for ancestral knowledge. Once restricted to the islands of Samoa the fa’amatai system has now spread across the Samoan diasporic network. Consistent with this is the finding that the complexity of the system has greatly increased.

System modifications, such as the splitting of a matai title (once held by one person only) between a number of individuals, possibly also across countries, is a good example. Village councils are attempting to make positive decisions in order to alleviate the pressures being felt by Samoans everywhere; decisions involving managing the financial impact of customary ceremony, for instance.

The system and the matai themsleves are, as a result, under enormous pressure. In part the onerous nature of the role – the degree of responsibility,

238 the pressure to pool and manage vast resources, the increasing complexity involved with leadership across a diaspora – means that assuming the title has, for some, lost its attraction. Add to this equation that people can now gain status and recognition via other means, by being heavily involved in the church for example, and you can begin to see how and why the balance has shifted. Generally speaking, however, assuming a title is still considered an honour and much celebrated. The Samoan people continue to have faith in the fa’amatai system too. People gave a considered but positive response when asked whether the matai had the skills required to lead in a modern world.

Their main concerns were around whether the system could progress and be flexible, thereby staying relevant. The role of the matai in regards to young people is a case in point. Whereas once young people were expected to obey without question today they too are wanting the freedom to express themsleves and participate in decision making. The more progressive matai are recognising this by, for example, commencing Youth Councils with the aim of discussing comtemporary issues and seeking mutually beneficial solutions.

Similarly women were found to have an increased governance role. In Samoa women are progressively more and more recognised for their contributions around community development, health and education issues. Clearly the fa’amatai still have supremacy in terms of local governance but their ‘circle of power’ is under increasing pressure to expand. Given that the fa’amatai are pivotal to fa’aSamoa the implications of this are fundamental to the survival of

The Samoan Way.

239 Chapter 5: Migration Motivation, traces the drive behind Samoan emigation since post World War II. For analytical purposes the chapter was divided into three time-based migration phases. The first of these, “Early Migration: Duty or

Adventure Bound”, discusses the earliest phase in contemporary Samoan emigration, a stage when motivation was closely tied to serving the collective plus seeking adventure. The next era, “Mid-phase Migration”, heralded a time of significant change in attitudes and behaviours. This was the era when

‘individualism’ gained supremacy over the traditional ‘collective’. Furthermore, the centre of power shifted from the ‘island home’, as core, to the diasporic communities in the periphery. The collective is at the heart of fa’aSamoa.

Rejecting its primacy, or refusing to contribute accordingly will, unquestionably, be damaging. The current era of migration borrows aspects from both previous times. Even today there remain those staunchly committed to the collective, who are migrating with this in mind. Conversely, there is a group of migrants who are seeking escape from Samoa’s cultural strictness and expectations, particularly obligations regarding fa’alavelave. Regardless of discontent though, there were few in this study that rejected their Samoan identity outright. Notwithstanding this there are those who appear to be transitioning from Samoan-by-culture to Samoan-by-birth-or-blood (only). I have argued that it is a commitment to culture that creates and maintains a viable Samoan diasporic network. Consequently a shift away from fa’aSamoa has profound implications for the ongoing vitality of the current transnational community and the country of Samoa.

240 Samoanness is defined in Chapter 6: Connectivity, Identity, Belonging &

Samoanness, as the degree of alignment to culture. Identity is singled out for detailed discussion - what influences a person’s identity, the way that identity is expressed and how belonging might be articulated - are explored. I also looked at what influences an individual or community’s degree of

‘connectivity’. Ultimately, the concept of ‘Samoanness’ was considered. The difference between identifying as Samoan by blood, birth or upbringing and being faithful to the culture underpins the central claim of this research; that strength, capacity and endurance depend on the degree of commitment to fa’aSamoa. Factors that influence connectivity such as, place of birth; migration motivation; the era of motivation; the migration path; the size of the community migrated to and membership of a sub-group within the broader

Samoan community were explored. The chapter ends with a discussion about those Samoans who are struggling with or, in some cases, rejecting aspects of the Samoan identity outright. What I found, however, was that regardless of any explicit discontent interviewees continued to refer to themselves as

Samoan. In brief, it is not being Samoan that they objected to, but aspects of fa’aSamoa or the ‘cost’ of being a Samoan. Given the discontent and disconnect uncovered there is arguably the potential for “Samoan” to become a label without culture. At the very least the system will need to accommodate tension, significant transformations and variations in regard to identity. The meaning of Samoan, being a Samoan, is no longer clear-cut. This is significant because of the ‘interconnect’ between the Samoan identity and commitment to fa’aSamoa. Without the former the latter will not thrive.

241 Chapter 7: Youth culture, the state of ‘Inbetweenness’ critiques the role of young people as both victims and agents of change. It recognises both the concern that Samoans in the diaspora have about their youth but also the hope that some have placed squarely on their shoulders. Rap culture and gang membership are popular amongst Samoan youth – in this research both are utilised to operationalise a youth-centric world view. Rap and gangs are used in a number of ways by youth, some destructive but others positive. The former are those with which we are most familiar - alienation, violence and crime - all closely associated with rap culture and gang membership. Less recognised is the way that both sub-cultures can mirror traditional cultural practices, such as providing strong leadership, affirming identity and giving members a sense of purpose. When employed in the positive manner, as they are inceasingly being by many Samoans, they provide an avenue for the voice of the new generation and offer an outlet for constructive rather than negative energy. Ultimately the study affirms the need for young Samoans to have a voice, a means of being creative and the freedom to seek their own way. In so doing, I do not believe that they are looking to reject or unseat culture but are adapting and maintaining it. The connotations of this finding are many. It will be important for the future of Samoa and fa’aSamoa for youth to be allowed this degree of freedom. The old cultural ways whereby Samoan young people were not allowed freedom of expression or any real degree of engagement in decisions regarding their own future must be set aside – these ways have proven to be alienating with little or no currency for contemporary Samoans.

Leadership, both cultural and religious, need to embrace youth as an asset.

242 The opportunity is there to form partnerships with young people, partnerships that have the potential to evolve into positive pathways.

The implications of this study fall into two broad groupings. The first are those implications that relate specifically to Samoa, these are discussed extensively within the thesis and recapped briefly above. The second group relate to those implications that go beyond the bounds of the Samoan case study. At this point it is important to bring the discussion back to the overarching aims of the research, the first of which was to contribute to the discourse around the impact of globalisation in the Pacific. On one level I have simply endeavoured to add to this area of scholarship by providing a detailed study of one country within the region. I do, however, feel there are wider implications worth noting. The first of these is the need to culturally contextualise studies. I have attempted to implement this in a number of ways. Firstly I stressed the cultural foundations of the Samoan diaspora, acknowledging the import of reciprocity, tautua, malaga and fa’alavelave for example. Taking these into account was significance for the analysis of my empirical data. Further, they influenced the way I interpreted the transnational nature of the linkages established by

Samoans. In short, a cultural viewpoint has implications for both empirical and theoretical sides of a study. I appreciate, however, that there are limits to the understanding of context I can provide from an ‘outsider’ perspective. This in itself highlights another implication, the need to seek out and foster indigenous knowledge. It is envisaged that the rising tide of indigenous Oceanic scholars will address this gap in the future.

There is another related aspect of this study to highlight. I came to recognise a

243 feature encompassed within the debate on cultural transformation and modernity; namely, that the transition process between the two is neither unidirectional nor linear. If the Samoan example can be extended then it is clear that customary behaviour and tradition continue to play an important role in the lives of those who have left a ‘developing’ country in search of modernity. One state is not to be replaced with the other – people will blend aspects of different worlds, taking from both what is feasible so that their lives are enriched in their totality. The implications of this are fundamental to our understanding of both indigenous peoples and development.

The second aim of this study, to explore questions of cultural transformation and endurance, brings its own broad implications. I have argued that Samoa’s relative success in the face of change can be attributed to the strength and centrality of fa’aSamoa, providing a case study on cultural resilience in itself.

There are other indigenous cultures in the South Pacific region that are not currently faring as well, Tonga, Fiji, and Aboriginal

Australians to name a few. While there are a multitude of factors as to why this may be the case, a comparison between the nature of Samoa, fa’aSamoa and other indigenous cultures in the region would, I believe, enrich our understanding of both the complexity of the region and cultural tenacity.

Further comparative research is therefore recommended.

Despite the concerns raised in this study the evidence does indicate that

Samoans will continue their process of strategic adaptation and that fa’aSamoa will continue to hold relevance and provide guidance. It appears also that a

Samoan identity, which is closely linked with fa’aSamoa, will continue to exist,

244 albeit with increasing complexity. Culture, tradition and custom appear to remain central to the ‘worth’ of Samoans everywhere. To this extent it is incorporated into contemporary Samoan lives with fa’aSamoa maintaining value. Negotiation, tension and adaptation are inherent to this process. As a result the meaning of ‘Samoanness’ will change. Creativity pathways will develop, paths leading to solutions and reinvention. The importance of vibrant transnational conduits that enable economic, political and social linkages needs to be stressed. If these pathways can be maintained, Samoans and fa’aSamoa will persist. Most importantly, those who have left will not set the island of

Samoa adrift, a scenario that would have grave implications for the wellbeing of those living there, and for the region as a whole.

Finally, I conclude this thesis by reiterating an earlier quote from Macpherson and Macpherson:

It is difficult to imagine a set of circumstances more likely to deal a fatal blow to

a system of extended kinship based on common ownership of resources and

which evolved in a small rural village based society (1999).

This thesis has been concerned with the “set of circumstances” to which they referred. Whether the disruptions, adaptations and cultural transformations discussed deliver “a fatal blow” is still open to debate. The changes are undeniably widespread, pervasive and irreversible. Ultimately, however, the enduring stability of Samoa can be traced to the strength of its culture. So, in the end, we can bring the story back to the Samoan tourist bureau’s claim; that it is the people and the culture of Samoa that make it so special.

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253 APPENDIX INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

SECTION 1: MIGRATION HISTORY

! Could you please tell me your migration ‘story’? ! Where were you born, when did you migrate (if you did), where did you go to school etc ! How did you choose to migrate to this location?

SECTION 2: MOTIVATION ! Are other members of your ‘aiga (family) living here or elsewhere outside of Samoa? ! How did you imagine your life would be different if you migrated? ! Have your ‘imaginings’ come true? ! Do you think your reasons for migration are ‘typical’? If not how do you think they are different and why do you think other people migrate?

SECTION 3: IDENTITY ! How do you describe yourself ethically and culturally? (eg Samoan, Samoan-New Zealander, New Zealander, Pacific Islander etc) ! Does this change with circumstances and or location? ! Do these ‘worlds’ ever clash?

SECTION 4: ‘AIGA, FA’ASAMOA AND FA’ALAVELAVE ! How do you define your ‘aiga here? Do you have a sense of aigaputuputu here too? ! Is that different to how you would describe both in Samoa and if so how? ! I am wondering what difference this makes to you, for example do you see one as better than the other or what are the advantages and disadvantages of each? ! I am interested in knowing about your life here, particularly your interactions with other Samoans both here and overseas. Bearing this in mind, would you mind telling me about your ‘typical’ week – recreation, church, social occasions, incidences of fa’alavelave, malaga etc ! If you do, how do you experience fa’aSamoa here? ! If it is, how is that different to how fa’aSamoa is in Samoa? ! What about fa’amatai here, what changes have you seen in their role for example? SECTION 5: IMPACT AND SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION IN SAMOA ! In this section I am interested in discussing with you what changes you feel are occurring in Samoa as a result of emigration ! Have you been back to Samoa since you migrated? ! How many times, when and for how long? ! What took you back on these particular occasions? ! In a general sense what major changes you have seen in Samoa over that time? ! Thinking about your village, what changes have you seen that you feel have resulted from emigration? ! Now thinking about the way fa’aSamoa operates in Samoa what changes do you feel have occurred as a result of emigration? For example changes to the fa’amatai, how fa’alavelave works or aiga ! Do these changes cause you any concern? ! Do you think Samoa, Samoans, fa’amatai and fa’aSamoa can adapt to accommodate these changes? ! Do you think Samoa is a ‘weaker’ or ‘stronger’ place for these changes?

SECTION 6: FINISHING UP

! Do you have any queries or questions for me?

! I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you once again for your time and effort. Please remember that you have my contact, those of my supervisors and our ethics officer on the information sheet. If you should have any queries in the future you should not hesitate to contact any of us.

Glossary of terms: ‘Aiga: Family Aigaputuputu: Extended family Fa’alavelave: Obligation/burden Malaga: Visits (traditionally of cultural and political significance) Matai: Chief/Head of extended family Fa’amatai: Traditional community governance system Fa’aSamoa The Samoan (Cultural) Way