The Tern's Turns

The other day, on my way home from work, I witnessed a show of almost epic proportions.  Two of the most beautiful birds on the island are the white tern and the frigate bird. Both are breathtakingly beautiful in flight.  A white tern and a frigate bird, which is more than twice the size of the white tern, were engaged is a mesmerizing aerial combat. The frigate bird was about two feet behind the white tern. Until that day I thought the white tern was the most skillful bird in aeronautics on the island. The frigate bird is most usually seen soaring most elegantly. But in this intense encounter, the frigate bird matched the white tern, high speed turn for turn. 

Frigate birds are opportunists, and from what I have observed of them, they may have a little mean streak in them. We were in Holbox, Mexico a few years back and I watched the frigate birds, soaring over the crowd of ocean birds, waiting for another bird to catch a fish. When another bird caught a fish, the frigate birds would dive on them and steal the catch. Then, the frigate birds would fight amongst themselves over the ill-gotten gains.

The white tern is most commonly observed in spectacular aerial ballet with a partner. I characterize its flying behavior as artful and stunning. The frigate bird, I see as being a bully. I can only imagine that the white tern was terrified, and was using every bit of its extraordinary flying prowess to avoid being taken by the frigate bird. I am sorry that I never witnessed the resolution of the combat between the frigate bird and the white tern. The last I saw them was when they disappeared over the ocean, geeing and hawing, rising and falling, at blinding speeds. I'll never forget THAT show!

What is she doing?

I am at Maliu Mai, a local watering hole set on one on the most beautiful shores of the island. There is an old folks band playing Polynesian tunes here, making for a magical experience.

Across the way is the entrance to the harbor, and I just watched the Queen Elizabeth sail out of port and round the south side of the island. She's headed for Western Samoa.

This island is covered with flowering shrubs and trees. And, just as those plants are constantly bursting out in bloom, Samoans burst out in song and dance. Tonight a couple of the beautiful matrons in the band got up and danced. Their scandalously suggestive moves had the crown roaring in laughter. These beautiful people love life!

House Guest

I have a house guest. She is the mother of a dear friend, and she is here from Western Samoan, visiting her daughter and granddaughter for a month. Her name is Sue, and she is helping me learn primitive Polynesian technology.

How to make a broom: Cut a coconut frond or two, and remove the individual long, skinny leaves from each frond. Pick a leaf, and, with a knife, near one end of the leaf, slice into the green part down to the rib. Then, simply run the knife along the rib for the length of the leaf. The green part of the leaf easily peels away. Flip the leaf around and repeat the procedure for the other side of the rib. Now, at the base of the leaf, the part where the leaf was once attached to the frond, strip the remaining green part away from the base of the rib, and slightly fray it. The whole process takes less than thirty seconds. Repeat this process for maybe three dozen leaves. What you have now is a pile of coconut leaf ribs, which are the straws of your broom. Sue did this day before yesterday.

 7 a.m. yesterday: she is sitting on my living room floor, cross legged. She would pick up three bundles, each of three or four ribs at a time, and braid the frayed ends of the three bundles together, leaving the other end of the rib loose.. She kept adding bundles of ribs from the pile, and in a very short time, had braided all the frayed ends of the ribs together. When she held that up, it looked much like a grass skirt-wrap. She then laid her creation on the floor, and commenced to rolling it up along the braided part. When she was done, she taped it secure, and she had her broom. It's about 2 1/2 feet long. Then, she got up and swept the floor with it. And then she mopped the floor (with my store-bought mop).

Yeah, this is my house. In American Samoa. How cool is that for a wannabe anthropologist? Pictures to follow. Oh, yeah. Put a handle on the broom and you have the preferred island tool for sweeping your yard.

Etak

A while back I was sitting in court with my dear friend, Adrienne Andrews, who is also a lawyer and who was helping me with several cases.  During a brief lull in the action, I was telling Adrienne that I had been thinking of writing a story that included quantum mechanics.  My idea involved the notion that, when you are going somewhere in your car, your car never moves.  Rather, what is actually happening is that, as the wheels of the car turn, they are turning the world beneath your wheels.  Imagine riding in the mountains.  What you observe outside your window are the mountains sliding by.  When you turn the steering wheel, you are actually changing the direction of the turn of the earth.

 

The Hokule'a in the harbor at Pago Pago, American Samoa, after sailing here from Tahiti.

Quantum mechanics enters the equation in that every other car on the road is also at the center of its universe.  Thus, the same phenomenon holds true for each of those cars.  That’s why each of us can be doing our own thing without messing up what’s happening with the other.  (Unless, of course, for some reason we find ourselves occupying the same space at the same time.  That usually results in some sheet metal damage.) The same works for walking, or any other method of locomotion for that matter.  It’s kind of fun to play with.  Next time you’re walking down the sidewalk, simply imagine that you are remaining stationary as you observe the world slide by you.  It turns out that my notion isn’t novel.  It’s been around for more than 3,500 years.  How I found out that my notion wasn’t novel, was really fun.

I had an extra minute or two one morning after court, so I decided I'd check out the Tauese P.F. Sunia Ocean Center. It was about time - I've been here 13 months. The state-of-the-art facility, sponsored by NOAA National Marine Sanctuary of American Samoa, features educational exhibits and interactive learning tools to promote ocean awareness and encourage good marine stewardship. I didn't see much of anything of the facility, though, because I got side-tracked by one of the most fascinating conversations I've ever had.

The week before, the Hokule’a (Ho-koo-lay-ah) had arrived in the Pago Pago harbor from Hawaii, via Tahiti.  The Hokule'a is a modern day re-creation of the ancient Polynesian sailing vessel that, by using primitive navigation skills, i.e., no map, compass or sextant, facilitated the discovery and settling of Samoa, then Tahiti, and Hawaii. It is two canoes, each about 60 feet in length joined with a platform, with masts and sails.  The Hokule’a was on the first legs of a 47,000 mile circumnavigation of the globe using nothing by ancient navigation skills, called “wayfinding.”

I walked into one of the display areas of the Ocean Center on this particular morning and found a fellow in a Hokule'a shirt sitting there working at a couple of computers. After I confirmed that he was indeed with the boat, I had some questions, and he was so gracious and engaging in our conversation.  He was Na'alehu Anthony, a Hokule‘a crew member and co-founder of ‘Oiwi TV, which is traveling with Hokule‘a and her sister ship, Hikianalia, to chronicle their journey and share it with the world. 

On the left is one of the two fautasi (warring canoe) which escorted the vessels into Pago Pago  harbor.  In the center is the support vessel, Hikianalia.The Hokule'a is on the right.

One of the first things I asked Na’alehu was about the Hikianalia.  Hikianalia carries the latest navigation equipment, and will provide support to Hokule’a on this circumnavigation.  It kind of bothered me that, should the Hokole’a desire, it could ask the Hikianalia about its position.  Na'alehu assured me that the Hikianalia was there purely as a safety precaution.  The Hokule’a is entirely responsible for the navigation of both vessels – wherever the Hokule’a goes, the Hikialiania follows.

I asked Na'alehu about how the ancient navigation techniques work. He first explained that there’s really no way of determining longitude.  The best they could do was to steer well east of where they knew Tahiti to lie, until they reached Tahiti’s latitude, then take advantage of the tradewinds to sail an easterly course.  And that’s how they arrived at Tahiti from Hawaii.    He went on to explain that determining latitude is a combination of using the sun, moon and stars, ocean swells, currents, clouds, birds and even fish to maintain a course and discover islands.  You know where the sun rises and sets each day.  It’s the same for the moon - as well as the stars.  Each star rises and set at a specific place which varies ever so slightly depending on the time of the year.  By knowing where on the points of a compass these events occur, and your location relative to these points, helps you understand your direction of travel. Of course, the ancients didn’t have a compass.  And wayfinding in the modern era is without the use of a compass.  Instead, wayfinders develop a “star compass.”  That is, by plotting – or memorizing – where stars rise and set, and their positions relative to one another and the horizon, you make a compass by which you determine direction.  The sun is only useful for determining position at sunrise and sunset, and three hours after sunrise and 3 hours before sunset.

Another aspect of this navigation is the use of ocean swells.  The direction of ocean swells doesn’t typically change during a twelve hour period.  There are about three to five primary dominant swells on the open ocean, each of which comes from a specific direction.  The wayfinder has to learn and recognize these swells.  So, for example, at sunrise you note the direction of your travel as determined by the sun, then note the angle at which the swells are striking the boat, and maintain the boat’s position relative to those swells during the course of the day in order to follow a course.  If it’s cloudy, and you have neither sun, nor moon, nor stars by which to steer, you have to rely on the swells.  It’s about paying attention and learning the language through years of experience, training and practice.  You plot speed by calculating your change in position over, say, a 24 hour period. 

Learning how to read the clouds helps determine where the winds will be coming from.  Also clouds can be used as reflectors for revealing the color of the water below.  Deep water is darker than shallow water. The topography of an island will also change the formation of clouds.  By recognizing certain telltale shapes of clouds, you can determine whether there’s an island below them.

If you see a land-based bird flying in a particular direction in the morning, then you know the direction of land is opposite the bird’s line of travel.  Birds can travel more than a hundred miles away from land in search of food.  Fish.  Pelagic fish are those which spend their lives out in the open ocean.  Marlin, tuna, swordfish are examples of pelagic fish.  If you suddenly start catching fish that are typically associated with reefs, then you know there’s land nearby.

So, after all this talk, Na'alehu told me that, in the context of all these aspects of ancient navigation, the wayfinder sees himself as stationary – that the canoe is at rest and it is the islands, the stars and the clouds that are traveling by on the edge of a circle around the canoe.  The wayfinder has the image in his mind where all the islands are, and he knows that, say, about so-and-so distant beyond the horizon over there, such-and-such island is sliding by.  I immediately understood exactly what he meant and thought how funny it was that my idea that cars don’t move while traveling was actually a 3,500 year old idea.  Aha! Vindicated!  There is actually a Satawalian word for it:  “etak.”

Then we talked about the courage and hugeness of the thinking that went into the ancient mariners' first venture beyond the horizon. The innovations of the ancient Polynesians in navigating the vastness and remoteness of the Pacific Ocean, is an intoxicating story of human development. To stand on the shore, gazing out at the horizon, and having your imagination and curiosity nurture your soul to the level of bravery it took to go out there and check it out was one thing. Innovating a vessel capable of safely delivering a population of humans which could reproduce and thrive in new environments was another. Innovating the tools necessary to construct such a vessel, yet another.  Using the sun, moon and stars, ocean swells, clouds, birds and even fish to maintain a course and discover islands is still another.

Here are a couple of links of interest. First is a story of Hokule'a's departure from Hawaii on its around-the-world tour.  The second is an article by National Geographic Explorer-in-Residence, Dr. Sylvia Earle, (Her Deepness) about her visit here to greet the Hokule'a upon its arrival last week.  Hokule’a’s circumnavigation was preceded by several trial runs.  Will Kyselka describes her 1980 voyage to Tahiti in An Ocean in Mind..

This is a tuna warehouse ship.  It usually rests at anchor in the harbor and buys the tuna catch from the purse seiners who are located here.  For Hokule'a's arrival, the port authority asked the riff-raff to kindly wait outside the harbor.  It is seen here steaming out to a suitable anchorage.

This is really cool stuff!

My Frame of Mind

I spent this past weekend cleaning my apartment.  It was reasonably clean when I moved in, but that I hadn’t done a thorough cleaning had been bugging me.  So, I swept and mopped the floors and cleaned the walls, and now I that vexation has been removed.  I haven’t had any income since I’ve been here and have been reluctant to spend any money on things I could get by without.  So, finally I spent about $120 on cleaning, supplies, including a mop, broom and doormats.

A view of the barebones dining and living area of my apartment. 

Beer, cigarettes and Free Cell.

Right now, my apartment is barebones.  As I said, I’ve been reluctant to spend any money in fixing it up, and the feeling is that I’m living something of a monastic life.  I have water, and soap, a nice bed to sleep in, a porcelain throne, a medicine cabinet, all my meds refilled, so I really am not wanting of any necessities.  My living arrangements are entirely adequate. But, that’s not say there can’t be improvements.  And, there will be.   By and by.

Don’t you think a nice rug would warm the place up?  And, how about a wall hanging over the sofa?  Curtains?  Intuitively it works for this room to have the sofa and chairs arranged on the other side.  But, having the room arranged like this takes advantage of the view outside.  Plus, football season is upon us and I need a television, which I’ll place on the small table on the right side of this picture.  Football is huge in American Samoa, what with the popularity of NFL stars like Troy Polamalu of the Pittsburgh Steelers, to name just one example.  To have football, I’ll need cable.  I also need cable to have home broadband internet.  Right now, I only have broadband at work and on my iPhone.  The iPhone is good for reading emails, but not so much for sending messages.  With home broadband, I can keep up with things better, posting more timely blogs, for example, and staying connected to my friends back home, who I miss very much.

One view from my deck.  Note the taro plants.  It appears that someone planted them, as they are in a row beside a little garden spot

Another view off my deck.  This is a papaya tree, and as the fruit ripens, I expect a visit from a flying fox.

The view outside my bathroom window is of a tropical jungle.  Literally.  A tropical jungle.

More on this monastic life, thing.  My life here has forced me to slow down.  For example, there’s just my bare apartment.  It’s where I can lay my head.  It’s where I can do some reading and writing and playing a whole lot of Free Cell.  What is the need in getting stressed out about what I don’t have and what I am not likely to have any time soon.  I have been compelled to just let that stuff go, and there’s freedom in letting that stuff go.  I am not bound by the desire to have this or that right now.  A good example is simply writing these words.  I am on a laptop.  I am not a proficient typist.  I make a lot of mistakes, and it can be trouble to constantly have to go back and correct my mistakes.  But, I refuse to let it be trouble.  And, that’s a lesson learned which is applicable to my dealings with others as well. 

If someone wants to be mean or ugly, I am better able to let that go.  I am sure there are limits to my ability to let it go, but it is liberating to not be all hot and bothered by some other’s poor behavior.  Instead, I just chalk it up to that person being who that person is, and not making it my problem by getting all hot and bothered.  And, all that is just what I came here for.

Life here is slow.  The traffic is slow.  If you are in a hurry, then you will merely be stressed and not arrive where you are going one minute sooner. Because the main road largely follows the contour of the bay, it is twisty and turny.  You cannot drive fast.  And, there’s an added compensation to the lack of cortisol production: the views.  Looking up at the thickly forested mountains you can see the path that an occasional waterfall cuts down the side.  Or, looking out over the ocean.  I’ve mentioned the breathtaking color of the water, the rolling surf with its humongous breaking waves.  To be stressed on the drive would be to deprive myself of the richness of the environment.  Better to just let the stress go.  Better to dream about what it would be like out there on the surface of the ocean in a sailboat, or wandering what it was that drove the native Polynesians to brave the sea in search of who knows what and populating the outlying islands, which cannot be seen from here?  Or to imagine what the views must be like from the side of the mountain.  Here, on this island, there is precious little horizontal ground.  Imagine what the sounds and smells are from inside those tropical jungles in the mountains.

In any event, this has been my take of the experience so far.  It feels as if I’ve undergone something of psychological change.  Is it my attitude, my feelings, my perspective, or what?  I am more relaxed, less stressed, and wasting less worry on things I don’t need to be worried about.  It feels like some much-needed healing is being done.

Doctor Visit

Years of way too much stress have taken their toll on my health.  Still, I have no regrets.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have made a positive and, I hope, lasting impression on many people’s lives.  For a long time I treated my calling as a public defender as one worth dying for, just as we send soldiers into war who get maimed and die for our rights and our way of life.  My job as a Public Defender lies at the nexus of where those rights and the individual come together, which can and is often a turbulent spot in our culture.  Mine and that of other people who’ve dedicated their lives to indigent defense, is a special calling, and one of great stress.  The stress caught up with me, with ballooning weight, high blood pressure and diabetes.  I came to American Samoa to slow down, and, my life here has become something of a monastic one.  It’s just what I needed, and I am happy to report that, in the first two weeks I was down 13 pounds, my latest blood pressure was perfect at 119/59 and my blood sugar was perfect at 108.  As I’ve said to many people, I intend to return from this adventure a skinny man, and it looks like I’m off to a strong start.

I had originally been scheduled to leave Royston for here June 24, so, I went to my drug store there and had all my prescriptions refilled to give me a month to get settled in, find a doctor and make connections.  But, because I didn’t leave until almost a month later I ran out of a couple of meds soon after my arrival, and, since it would be another week or two before I could see my new doctor here, I had to make a visit to the emergency room.  There was no emergency other than just needing refills on a couple of meds.

All of the medical business for the island takes place at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Tropical Medical Center.   They are able to adequately provide most routine health care.  However, more advanced or complicated treatment must be had off-island.  That typically involves a plane ride to Hawaii, or, maybe Australia or New Zealand. 

I went to a party the other night and met a young palagi couple (palagi is the word for white folks, typically American) who had only recently arrived from the states for the husband’s 2 year gig as a prosecutor for the Attorney General’s office.  Here, there is no District Attorney’s office.  Instead all the criminal prosecutions are handled in the criminal division of the AG’s office.  The wife of the young couple is pregnant, and looks to be maybe a little further than half-way along.  She intends have her baby, their first, at LBJ on the island.  How exciting!  Dual citizenship and all that!  “Where were you born?”  “American Samoa.” “Where the hell is that?”  Folks have been having babies on this island for a long, long time.

The prerequisite for all medical treatment, doctor visits, optometrist visits, prescription drugs, etc., for us contract government employees is to obtain a medical card.  I had done this the day before and doing it had been something of a minor adventure.  First, I had to show a copy of my contract to receive a card.  Then I had to find the office which issues the card.  Not having any idea about how to go about doing that, I went to the administrative office.   Just as a security guard had provided invaluable assistance in Honolulu, a security guard for the hospital helped direct me.  The administrative office then sent me through the maze that is typical of a hospital until I found the records window.  I was also there to pick up a psychological evaluation for one of our clients, which was also handled at the records window.  Two birds conveniently with one stone at the same window.

The emergency room is where many people on the island go for their primary medical care.  Most only go when they have an immediate need to see a doctor.  Thus, it tends to be full all the time, and there’s typically a longish wait.   All the seats in the waiting area were taken and I had to stand during my wait.  But they worked me in pretty quickly.  There was a $30 fee for the ER. They didn’t have one of my meds, but they were able to reproduce it with a combination of two others, so, other than involving a couple of trips between the pharmacy, which is located inside the hospital, and the ER doctor, I got my refills.  Refills were $20 each, so that set me back another $80. 

There are “drug” stores around the island but, they do not dispense prescription meds.  Rather, they’re the source for over-the-counter remedies.  The prescription meds are dispensed through the hospital pharmacy.  And, the way that works is this.  Upon arriving at the pharmacy, prescription in hand, walk up and take a number ticket from the little dispenser, just like getting gift wrapping at Macy’s.  After a looonnnggg wait, when your number flashes on the LED screen, walk up, hand the clerk your ticket and prescription, and they fill it while you stand there.  Pay them and you are on your way.

About a week later I was able to see my doctor, Dr. Sean.  He’s a really cool guy.  He’s been on the island for 6 years.  He got his medical training while he was in the army.  Once he finished medical school, he served out the remainder of his tour of duty to fulfill his obligation for the expense of medical school.  When he mustered out, he was debt free.  Not having a $200,000+ debt from medical school allowed him to come to American Samoa and help the poor people here for substantially less pay than he would make in the states.  So, that’s pretty cool in my book.  There was no charge to see the doctor, as it’s covered under my contract, which was a nice touch.

Next:  My Frame of Mind

Picture Day!

I moved picture day up a day, so this isn't Doctor Visits.  Click on a picture to enlarge it.

This, people, could be considered a sacred plant.  It is cacao, the source of chocolate!

 

Closeup of a cone ginger flower.

 

Red hibiscus.

The dirt on this mountain side, saturated by recent rains, gave way and this landslide resulted.  The road was blocked off for a little while.  It happened about 7:30 a.m. on the main road.

A well-kept yard.  Note the young tree fern.

Here is how a rock-filled landscape is mowed.  The lava rock would play hell with a lawn mower.  And, by the way, the grass is centipede – the same as we have in our yard in Royston.  Only, theirs doesn’t turn brown in winter.

A fale (pronounced Fah Lay).  A fale is an open-sided structure divided into rooms by screens, or simply by placement of furniture.  It is a home.  The open sides allow the cooling breeze to pass through.

Papaya tree.

The fish doesn’t get any fresher.  These guys surf fish and have set up a stand by the main road to market their catch.  This fellow’s name is “Praise.”

A Methodist church.  When I get a car, I’ll do a whole series of photographs of churches, another of buses, then fales, and front yard graves.

Walls are popular landscape features.

Bright and shiny new out of the box just three weeks ago, alas, my fan has fallen victim to the salt in the air.  The salt in the air exists as minute crystals.  It coats the windshield of the car overnight, and that creates a glare when driving into the sun that makes the road ahead of you impossible to see

The gravesite of a former village high chief (matai – pronounced Mah Tie) and his wife.  In the middle of the village.

 Next:  Doctor Visits