Umu Turkey and Chocolate Haupia Pie

What a great Thanksgiving! We joined the Peter's family for feasting and fun with friends.

In the morning Ella and Ephraim made 8 dozen rolls.
Then we went to the Peter's house to help with preparations. The umu was already cooking. An umu is an outdoor oven made by heating up rocks, then piling food on them, and covering it all with banana leaves. In two or three hours, we cooked 3 turkeys, a ham, dozens of ulu, taro, loaves of bread, and who know what else was in there!

Then the boys get to burn off their fingertips getting it all out.

The finished product. Mmmm.

We did have all the traditional fixings: gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, jello salad, green bean casserole, homemade cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. (Isn't Sister Peters awesome?!) But then we also had palusami, ulu, kalo, pisupo, and Tahitian coconut bread, topped off with chocolate haupia pie and Samu ice cream. Oh how thankful we are to live in Samoa!

Bearing Gifts

Ephraim recently went back to Hawaii on business for a few days. While there he asked me the magic question: What do you want me to bring home? Oh, the list went on and on. The Jackson family, Pam, Robbie & Scott were tops on the list. They didn't fit well in a suitcase, so we settled for a few less important items.

I loved the reactions. Ella got pink reef shoes. Isaac got slippers. I got a cute tennis skirt (complete surprise--he did good, huh). And Ephraim got duck feet and a boogie board.
Mostly we were glad to have him home.

Mouth of Babes

Ella is exploring language. She frequently yells at us in her own tongue.

I'm sure it's a natural step in language acquisition. Perhaps it also has something to do with the languages we throw around daily.

Meli: "Ella, quieres agua?"
Ella: "No, leche."

Eph: "Is Isaac a teine?" (girl)
Ella: "No, he's a tama." (boy)

Or we argue, "Ioe!!" (Yes). "Leai!!" (No).

Not that our goal for her is fluency in any language other than English. But Ephraim and I use Spanish when talking about the chocolate we're secretly snacking on, the family rules we're inventing on the spot, or really bad news, like death. And right now we're both trying to make some sense of this confusing Samoan language we hear around us.

I know there are many of you out there that are educating your children multilingually. Did your kids create their own language?


Or is that the pure Adamic that we'll all speak in heaven? Should I be taking notes?

Invasive Species

There are termites flying around my room. Dozens of them. They have wings 1 inch long, wormlike bodies, and random flight patterns. I don't know what, but something told them all that tonight is their night to fly. In my house. On my keyboard. In my hair.

Ephraim warned me about termite flights in Hawaii when swarms of them would cling to the screens outside, and he could pick off their crusted wings the next day. I wasn't ready for them to come from inside the house. Our friend Jay said every house here has termite flights at different times. Tonight's our lucky night. Maybe it would help if we got rid of our termite-infested couches. Maybe. That might also cut down on the piles of "frass" we sweep up.

The other night Isaac came up to me saying "de-do de-do" and pinched in his little fingers was a baby gecko! He had caught it in the hall. We were so proud of his hunting skills. Our friends the Peters claim to have a cat-sized gecko living behind their doorbell. They named it Quazimodo.

Thankfully we haven't seen any rats, and the roaches stay out of sight. We do have ants. Many of them. Sometimes I get frustrated, but to prevent them I just have to think like them. "Is this stuff sticky? Is it accessible? Would it be tasty for me and hundreds of friends?" If I see an ant trail, I follow it, and I throw away the target. The ants leave peacefully.

I'd forgotten what it was like to live with creatures in our house. First I tried to get rid of them all. As I debugged I thought, "This place must not have been cleaned for years! Look at all these nasty spiderwebs, dead roaches, and ant trails!"--only to be greeted the next day with fresh signs of bug life. So I'm gradually learning a few things. Bugs are easy come, easy go. So don't worry too much about their comings and goings. Also, the circle of life actively operates right under my nose without my control. Geckos eat bugs. Spiders eat mosquitos. Ants take away dead cockroaches. They all keep each other in check.

As long as they don't bite us, we strive to maintain a zenlike coexistance in "our" house.

Now to shake off the golden gossamer wings sprinkled on our bedspread, like tiny dried rose petals welcoming my blissful slumber.

Heidi and Peter the Goatherd

I know you're just dying to see my kids in Halloween costumes, so here they are.


Ella read the book about Heidi of the Swiss Alps and chose to be her for Halloween. Isaac really had no choice.

I sewed the costumes last week from scraps I had. Isaac's lederhosen are from a pillowcase.
We just cracked up all night at the little Alpen Kinder wandering around our Primary party.

Discovering Tula

On Discoverer’s Day we went with the Peters to a BBQ in Tula (see map). It’s 22 miles away and takes an hour to get there.

I scraped a coconut for the first time.


We got lunch from the piggery in the back. Respectful thanks to that little piggy for providing us a lovely meal with friends and family.


Ella hung with her girls.


Isaac relaxed with his aunties.

Lita served an appetizer of papaya and coconut. She said it’s a winning combo, “like cheese and apples”.

After swimming and eating, Pae and Lita took us on a hike up the hill to the NOAA observatory station.

The views were beautiful.


Sister Pae welcomed us to come back when we want to escape the “hustle and bustle” of the west side of the island.

Pisupo

As you may have guessed by now, the blessed day came when our “ship came in.” On October 2, we finally got our stuff—washer, dryer, dishes, computer, but most helpful, our car. It is such a blessing to have a car that fits our family, keeps us dry in the rain, and gets from point A to B with AC.

While we didn’t have our car, our friend Mark Hales was kind enough to lend us his truck affectionately known as “Pisupo”. I’ll explain the name, then I’ll explain the truck. Pisupo (pea-soup-o) is what Samoans call one of their favorite dishes: corned beef in a can. I’m not really sure why they call corned beef pisupo. Are pea soup and corned beef synonymous? No. Similar? Not really. I could theorize a logical explanation, but instead I’ll just accept it as another interesting Samoan quirk.

This Pisupo is a black 94 Toyota truck. The odometer stopped (over a year ago) at 240K miles. When Mark dropped the truck off, he ran down the list of things that were broken: the drivers tail light, the parking brake (it’s a standard), the radio, the tailgate, and the rear suspension. Then he ran down the list of things that were almost broken. One tire had a slow leak and needed air once a week. The radiator coolant leaked, so the car overheated and needed water at every stop. The drivers door opened from the inside only. The passengers door opened from the outside only. I could probably go on, but you get the idea.

In spite of it all, Pisupo was a joy to drive. With those wheels we could go to the beach, the store, across the island, and to the ice cream shop. How liberating! People assumed we were “locals” cruising in the battered beast with it’s-nighttime-in-here tinting. And thanks to loose enforcement of seatbelt laws, the truck was a great family car. Ephraim drove, Ella sat in the middle and Isaac sat on my lap.

One evening when we were driving home from KS Mart, Ella and I sat in the back with all the groceries. Riding with no roof, no windows, no restraints, with the constant risk of things flying out of or into the truckbed—riding as cargo basically—for me is always a fantastic feeling. I’ve felt that before, but this time was special because although it was night and we were driving, it was warm. Warm night breeze, no jacket, no blanket, no chill. Just the stars, moon, and swaying leaves overhead. Dogs running, folks waving, cars whooshing by. And cuddled next to me, my cute little 3-year old snitching chocolate chip cookies. That's a feeling I hope to remember when I remember Samoa.

I think it’s because of trucks like Pisupo that we moved here.

P.S. I regret to inform you that Pisupo has sadly moved on to truck heaven. But it’s okay because so has Mark. He’s in Utah.