Malo! from American Samoa. Here are just a few thoughts and a diary of my experiences in American Samoa working with the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Operations Team.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa. 

Thursday, October 8, 2009 Day minus one
8:30 Boarded a plane in Baton Rouge headed for Dallas. Sat next to an LSU professor headed for a conference in Wisconsin. She asked me to come speak to her class when I return. Wow. This really is a big deal. Seems like I should be more nervous.

5:00 Just boarded the airplane. A very large man is sitting in my seat. A nice Samoan man returning to his village, Amanave. His sister and mother barely escaped the tsunami. Because he is so nice, he traded his seat so two women could sit together. He even offered me second half of his dinner. (This is an island custom I found out later to offer your guest whatever food you have leftover on your plate.) I was tempted but declined his generosity.

10:30 It was raining when we arrived in Pago Pago. Stood in line for over an hour and filled out many many forms. The flight was filled with relief workers and relatives returning home to attend funerals. Cecelia of Catholic Social Services greeted us through the gauntlet of locals lining the sidewalk. She brought each of us a beautiful lei.

We’re staying at the Diocesan Retreat Center. It’s a lot like the Baton Rouge Catholic Life Center. Except without air conditioning, hot water or hallways. It’s kind of like a summer youth camp. But each of us has our own room. Complete with a sink and two twin beds. The bathroom is down a few doors. Could be worse. Could be sleeping in a FEMA Yurt like so many along the coastline here.

I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted but can’t quiet my brain. Then the roosters start to crow and the bats begin to chirp.
 

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

Friday, October 9, 2009--Day One

This morning a rainbow greeted us. This must be a good sign.

Today started with a meeting. Big surprise. Meetings--the name of the game in disasters. Of course our first was with Bishop Weitzel and his administrative staff. He expressed his concern for his people and repairing the properties damaged by the tsunami. He has a cold and is not feeling well, but is grateful we are here.  

From there we traveled to the American Samoa VOAD meeting. This is only the third meeting. The first two were six and seven hours long. Thankfully, this one only lasted two hours. The Government announced that they had signed an MOU to join AidMatrix. We were able to assure the members that AidMatrix is a good thing . . . we used it for the first time during Hurricane Gustav. Kim introduced the idea of Community Resource Centers, a concept she likens to a pot luck dinner. We providing the planning and organization for the party, everyone else provides the manpower and supplies to distribute to the people. We never know what inventory is going to show up and the timing might be a bit tricky, but the VOAD members were receptive to the idea and seemed pleased that a plan is being put in place for relief supplies to get to the people.

Then we loaded into two vehicles to tour the island, Colleen and I traveling with Agnes, a wonderful volunteer who moved here in her Peace Corps days and never left. Kim, Gabe and Cecelia rode in the diocesan vehicle. Our first stop was in Leone. That was tough to see. It reminded me a lot of New Orleans after Katrina. Even though a lot of debris had been cleared, the village was a mess. Cars and vans pushed into buildings. Shells of buildings like skeletons. Empty foundations along the shore. The back ripped off the post office with the day’s mail blowing in the wind. Some people were working. Others sitting and staring. The only thing lacking was the smell of Post-Katrina New Orleans . . . thank goodness. The ocean breeze must help.

On the shore was a tent with tables and chairs. As we wandered around, a man came and told us to sit with the other men. They are the tribal chiefs. Evidently we broke island protocol by not addressing the village leaders before talking to their villagers. Oops. We chatted for a couple of minutes, then they became flustered shuffling papers and rearranging chairs. Behind us a military convoy arrived. Those were the real VIP’s they were waiting for. We were quickly shuffled to the side.

A woman came and asked me if we were from FEMA. She had been waiting for the inspector to come inspect the damage at her home. Honestly there was nothing left to inspect. An empty slab. Both of her vehicles were wedged in buildings across the street. Just then the FEMA inspector arrived.

From Leone we travelled to Amanave, a village on the far western end of the island. It was completely wiped out. We didn’t stop though because we wanted to head to the eastern part of the island, so we turned around, back tracking through Leone and into Pago Pago. It’s weird. Some villages looked like nothing happened, others were decimated.

There was a cruise ship docked in Pago Pago. Not a good time to vacation here. Pago Pago (FYI pronounced Pain-go Pain-go) is the largest city and home to several tuna canneries, a ship yard and the seat of government. Several buildings were knocked off their piers. Shops were empty.

From there we traveled along the coast all the way to the eastern tip of the island in Tula. Devastation dotting coast. Along the shore are several tall rock islands, some with a couple of palm trees. Of course each island has a legend attached to it usually involving tragic love stories. The water is beautiful. Crystal clear. Like blue green glass. The waves break just off shore. Some surfing size. There’s still a no swim order, so we’ll stay on shore today.

At about 6:00, Agnes turned the car around on a steep mountain road to head back home. Little did I know we had to back track the way we came. Now I’d only had 3 hours sleep the night before after a 20 hour plane ride. According to my internal clock, it was midnight. Now we had to wind our way back to the Catholic compound. THE SPEED LIMIT IS 25 MPH ALL OVER THE ISLAND. The road is twisty. Up and down. My McDonald’s hamburger had left me hours ago. I was hungry, tired, mentally and physically exhausted. Not a happy moment. But what was I to do. Whine like a true southerner.

About 15 minutes into our return trip, we rounded a corner and saw a man trying to flag down the lead car. Kim and Gabe didn’t stop. She had warned us not to stop for anything. But he looked desperate. Crying he told us he and his children hadn’t eaten for two days. Colleen offered him two melted power bars and all the bottled water we had in the car. He wept even harder and thanked us.

We told him we’d be back and drove down the mountain into Faga’itua and stopped at a little convenience store. We loaded up a basket with Spam, peanut butter, bread, water, rice and milk. I had some cash with me and we all wore our Catholic Charities garb. The clerk asked what we were doing. We explained to him about the man and his hungry children. He said to put my money away and take the food. Just then the man arrived in a car. He sobbed when we loaded the food into his car. The ride home didn’t seem nearly as long I thought it was going to be.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

Saturday, October 10
Today we decide to split into two teams. Kim and Gabe will tour the east end of the island with, and Colleen and I will head West with Agnes and Cecilia again. Each team is accompanied by two women and a van. We stopped at the American Red Cross to pick up water and snacks to bring to some of the outlying villages.

We’re scouting the affected villages for potential sites for Community Resource Sites, talking with the chief of each village and assessing the needs. We passed Leone, drove through Amanave and then broke Rule #1. Don’t deviate from the plan. The van drivers thought we should go to Fagamalo on the northern side of the island.

Fagamalo is a beautiful village nestled at the end of a bay. We saw a few children and a couple of men. But not much happens in Fagamalo. Paradise. They had some damage, but It didn’t look like a war zone like other parts of the island. I took some pictures and let the kids take pictures of me. They always love that and it’s the only picture of me I’ve gotten the whole trip. See the picture above.

We gave them some water and snacks. Like my kids, they started  breaking into the pudding. Dividing it up among themselves. Everyone loves pudding.

We loaded back into our cars, Agnes at the wheel of her little Toyota/Nissan/Suburu sedan with the Handmaiden of the Lord bumper sticker. Agnes is a very faith-filled woman. I knew we were in trouble when on a steep uphill climb she started making the sign of the cross. My heart sank when the engine died. She tried to start up the car. Pop the clutch. Start it in second. Rolling back.  Smoke. Colleen got behind the wheel. She didn’t fare any better. The car kept rolling down the hill. The rest of us jumped out to lighten the load. I had to fuss at Cecilia who was sure she could hold the car on the hill. She might be able to, just not today. Not this car. Not with me around.

Then our knights arrived in a big ford pickup truck. The driver tried to start the car but couldn’t. So he lowered the car onto his bumper and pushed us up the mountain. AAA couldn’t have done any better. We were out of breathe when we reached the top of the mountain. Lots of high fives. Then the hysteria set in when we realized that we had risked our lives to bring the village pudding.  Pudding to the People! Pudding Power! Sounds kind of silly now, but I think it helped us get up the rest of the mountain.  Bill Cosby would be proud.

Our rescuers followed us closely the rest of the way back to Amanave. Thankfully, the car never died again. We waited at the beginning of town for the other vehicle. From here I began to see the full devastation of the village. Trucks were still buried under debris 100 yards off the road. Empty slab where cinder block houses had been torn. FEMA Yurts popped up like hives. We found the village mayor. He said that when he felt the earthquake he knew a tsunami would follow. He rang the village bell, usually an air tank with the bottom cut off hanging at the village bus stop, and began pushing people to higher ground. Several in the village credit him for saving their lives.

I took some pictures of a woman and her baby. She look like she could have been one of my neighbors. We chatted a little, not really talking about anything. I told her they had done an amazing job with the clean up. Most of the debris had been cleared, was sorted on the side of the road, metals, wood, and everything else. The air was filled with smoke from people burning piles of brush.

She volunteered how many were killed in the town. I don’t remember what she said though. 6. 10. can’t remember. I asked if she lost a family member. She teared up and just said yes. I didn’t press her for more details. I didn’t think either of us could handle talking any more so I thanked her for the photos and left her on her own.

We loaded back into the car and stopped at another village. Can’t remember the name right now. More of the same destruction though. They hadn’t been as successful with their clean up efforts. Between the road and the shore line, every building had been wiped out. Amongst the tin, wood and broken appliance, some one had built a memorial. We had seen others along the road. This is common in South Louisiana to mark the site of death. This one memorialized a Korean woman and her 12 year old daughter. A trophy. Pictures. A shoe. Stuffed animal. All that was left of a 12 year old’s life. Memories of a mother. The daughter’s body has not been found. Probably sucked into the sea by the rushing water.

After leaving some water and more pudding, we head to Leone to drop the rest of our supplies at the CCC—triple C church. The children’s choir was practicing for the White Sunday celebration tomorrow. White Sunday is a huge holiday in Samoa. A day to honor the children.

Just as we pulled up in the front of the Church, I noticed a dog standing on a balcony over the front door. 20 feet up. The little beagle looking dog wagged its tail and seemed friendly. It was skin and bones. Poor thing.

Why do things like this happen at the end of the day? When I’m ready to go home? Shoot. The dog might have been up there since the tsunami, swept up there by the waves. Or kids could have put it up there. I don’t know. I do know that I could not have been the first person to notice it up there though. Colleen talked some boys into getting it down. They simply walked up the stairs inside the church and climbed out of the window. Fooled around for about 10 minutes before finally bringing the dog down. I suppose with some much death and destruction, a dog’s life seems pretty insignificant. And there were tons of dogs running about. Sleeping . Digging in the trash. None with collars on. Samoans don’t see dogs as pets, more of a nuisance like mosquitoes.

Once the dog was on solid ground, colleen fed it a couple of granola bars and a whole bottle of water. It trembled as it wolfed down the food. Wagging his tail the whole time. I’m convinced this would be a good dog.

After a Chinese meal at the Hong Kong restaurant, we returned to the compound, and I changed into my sleeping clothes. Picked up my towel, there was an eight inch lizard. Welcome to the tropics.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

Sunday, October 11, 2009
We attended White Sunday Mass and were introduced as special guests. Beautfiul service. Lots of singing. Guitar. Flowers. Open air cathedral. The children sat together in the front of the church, of course all dressed in white. The older kids separated from the younger ones. At the end of the service, the smallest boy recited  a bible verse after prompting from his mother. Today we visited more villages and worked on organizing the distribution site.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

Monday – Wednesday
Were pretty uneventful. We’re starting to fall into a routine. Deliveries of goods to village. Phone calls about families who haven’t eaten. Deliveries to those villages. And more. And more. And more. The need seems unending. The shelters have all closed by Wednesday.

The idea of the community distribution sites is really coming together with a little friction from other organizations that I will not mention.  We know they are a good idea because we’ve done this before. Still a lot of unknowns. But that’s the nature of disasters.

Monday night, we were invited to the Frenches house for dinner. They are delightful. High school sweethearts from Nebraska. Married over 50 years. They’ve lived on the island for thirty years. They look typical midwesterns. I can’t help but imagine what their families must have thought when they moved here from Nebraska. He is a civil engineer and she a retired special education teacher. Her garden is beautiful, filled with all kinds of plants that I’ve killed many of. Gingers. Bougainvillea. Orchids. Palms.

Tuesday, after the VOAD meeting, we sat down at Pizza Hut (AGAIN), Colleen and I almost said in unison, we can’t leave on Thursday. How could we leave with so much to do? The distribution sites weren’t set to open until Friday. Four people can’t handle this. So we changed our tickets to leave on Sunday. That means my layover in Honolulu is cancelled. Oh well. I’ll get there again some day, right? Disasters like this are once in a lifetime. Well, maybe twice?

After eating at the two fine dining restaurants in the area (McDonalds & Pizza Hut), Colleen cooked a couple of great meals, red beans and rice on Monday and spaghetti. Yummy.

Andrea took colleen to the doctor on Tuesday who pronounced her to have a cold. Colleen thinks it’s Swine Flu. She oughta know. She tracks the disease as part of her job as Disaster Preparation and Response coordination for the Louisiana Catholic Conference of Bishops. Tuesday and Wednesday she stayed closed up in her room. I know she feels horrible because she can’t help us and we’re overwhelmed right not.

Kim made her some chicken soup for dinner and Gabe supplied the frozen sorbet idea. These were great. The orange sorbet was a bowl made from the rind as was the lemon. Very yummy.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

Thursday, October, 15
Today my bones hurt. Didn’t get to bed last night until 2:00 a.m. when I started to get emails from the office. It’s not ever a good idea to go without sleep but we had a situation report to finish up so it could be helped. We like to have these reports sitting in Inboxes first thing the morning. Gives them time to marinate.

We go up early. 6:00 a.m. today’s a big day. Kim was asked to participate in the governor’s press conference. He’s announcing the formation of the American Samoan Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster. VOAD.

Today Kim, Cecilia and I are off alone. I drive us in the Echo. Complete with flowers tucked in her hair, Kim looks like a beautiful islander in her new one she bought at Mr. Lavalava—white with ocean blue flowers. I’m the only one not wearing a lavalava. We’re quite a contrast with me in my work boots and denim skirt. I’m going for comfort.

I didn’t expect the conference to be quite as formal as it was. The VOAD member representatives stood on risers behind the governor, like a choir or backup singers. (I think I’ve been watching Glee too much.)
The governor started the press conference. Rightfully so, he looks tired. First he spoke in Samoan then switched easily to English and back again to Samoan. I had to pay attention because he does it so effortlessly.  Two new Samoan friends sat on either side of me.

The FEMA Incident Commander for this disaster was on the podium with the governor. He looked familiar. I think he was in Baton Rouge for Hurricane Gustav. Rev. Sam, the chair of VOAD, also shared the stage. Rev. Sam is a pastor with the CCCS. Or Triple C. He’s a great speaker.

After the press conference, I’m waiting for Kim so we can walk across the street to Sadies by the Sea for lunch with Rev. Sam to discuss the distribution sites. Exchanging cards with Red Cross people, the Mennonites, FEMA guys. Encouraging them to sign up for the fire dance at the Tradewinds tomorrow night.

The DRC (Disaster Relief Center) is the place people come to sign up for FEMA assistance. Usually this can be done via a phone call, but for this disaster, victims have to pick up an application on a specific day, depending on what village they live in. The line practically wraps around the building where we are standing. Today villagers from Vatia and Afono are signing up. To get here, most have ridden the only bus up and over the mountain ridge. Harrowing experience in a car much less the 3rd world buses they have here. (The buses much be privately owned because each one has a different theme. Finding Nemo. Swedish chalet look, I really love the ones with flames painted on the side. Makes them look like they’re traveling much faster than 25 MPH.)

Just as I start to get impatient waiting for Kim, I look up and there is my seat mate, the man I met on the plane into Pago Pago. He did a double take and finally recognized me. We hugged like long lost friends. He explained that he was coming to talk to the Governor about the lack of aid for his village, Amanave. He was hopping mad. The governor had already left, but Kim and I told him about the resource site we were planning on setting up in his village tomorrow. We sent him home with instructions to start lining up volunteers to help with the distribution of supplies. Just as he was leaving, he ask if he could have Kim’s Catholic Charities green vest. He looks great in CCUSA green.

Lunch with Rev. Sam and Evelyn from VOAD was nice. Our table was situated under a cabana right on the water. Again, I kept surveying he horizon for a huge wave. A storm is blowing in and Cecilia is shivering in her cardigan, as she calls it.

The menu is nice, lots of international dishes. Evelyn ordered the Cajun pasta. I told her at home they would call that pastalaya. I’ve ordered the shrimp and mango salad. Two star meal.

The conversation was nice. Rev. Sam wanted reassurance that the Community Resource sites would work. Kim and I talked about our experiences with them and he seemed more at ease with the idea.

Lena and I drive back alone to Fatuna. Lena is a very strong willed Samoan, married to an Irishman. She’s going to play an active part in the island’s recovery. I was honored that she said I drove just like a Samoan. (Wait, maybe that’s not a compliment.)

What a day and it’s only 1:00. Fatu and I are paired to scout the site in Afono, talk to the mayor to get his final blessings and make sure they have a secure building to lock up supplies when we are finished. This would be my second visit to Afono. The drive is beautiful. At one point we can see both sides of the island at the top the mountain ridge.

I’m thankful it’s not raining like it was yesterday. These roads are some of the steepest I’ve ever been on—included downtown San Francisco.

Fatu my driver grew up in Aloo, not far from where we are going. He’s 26 years old and works for Mr. and Mrs. French, the couple that loaned us the van we are using. His wife and 8 month old baby girl live in Honolulu. He had been planning to move there before the tsunami, but has postponed those plans until the island is more stable. He misses his family. Gets a little teary talking about them. He and his wife talk every night from 10:00 p.m. until they fall asleep. I know it’s tough to go through something like this without your family.

Fatu and I track down the village mayor in Afono and settle on the details for the site. He’s happy that his people will be getting some help. Afterwards Fatu and I began the climb back over the mountain.
He pointed out a new house built almost on the curb of the road. It’s not actually a house but a gravesite. Samoan’s have some unique customs when it comes to funerals and burial. Families bury their loved ones on the family home site in full size graves. Some build elaborate structure to protect the grave from the weather.

Sometimes if there is a riff in a family graves are interred and moved to new ground. If the man was married, his wife has the responsibility to “shower” the bones of her dead husband, oil them and wrap them in a bundle. Then these bones are buried in a full sized coffin complete with full Samoan funeral services. This is not a big island. You’d think that they would want to conserve land and rebury the bones in a shoe box sized coffin.

Fatu and I are becoming good friends. We pass a store selling Oka, he says it’s his favorite food. I’m game, so I offer to treat. Lesson #2—find out where you’re going before you offer to drive down the road. Oka is raw fish marinated in coconut milk, lime juice and spices. Not at all what I expected. Kim was going to kill me I thought as I choked down the sashimi. But it tasted pretty good really and I like living a little dangerously. I couldn’t eat the bananas. They were green bananas boiled in coconut oil and topped with coconut milk. Starchy. Bland. Rubbery. I took one bite, it seemed to grow in my mouth. Fatu could finish the bananas on his own.

From Afono we headed to Amaluia (Ah-Ma-Lou-E’-Aa, like Italian, the accent is on the second to last syllable.) Gabe found a family of 24 that morning that had been sleeping on the concrete floor of their guest house and promised them tonight they’d have cots to sleep in. One of the 24 was a soldier, the kid wasn’t 20 years old probably. Just before the tsunami, he had just returned to his village. He had been injured in Afghanistan, burns covering his chest and neck. He still had the gel bandages on his chest wounds. And now he was sleeping on a cold, hard floor.

The family greeted us like lost family members when Fatu and I showed up with the cots. They said that they knew who to call when they wanted something done. I told them we didn’t have as many rules as FEMA and the Red Cross. We could ask for forgiveness rather than permission. They laughed and laughed.
Just as we were driving away, they called us back. Our soldier was awake now and wanted to thank us for taking care of his family. The rain drenched both of us, so we didn’t talk long. He explained that he had just received word that he was leaving tonight to return to Sam Houston for more surgery, but he felt better know his family wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor tonight. As Fatu and I drove away, I said, ”That feels pretty good, huh?” we didn’t talk for several miles. I think Fatu has the Catholic Charities DRO fever now.

It’s magic time on our way home, that time of the night when the sun is setting and the light is golden, glowing. Must be 6 or 7. Fatu points out men standing along the road, every 50 feet or so on both sides. Dressed the same. White shirt, red lavalava. It’s family time he explained. Every night, a bell is rung. The first bell signals people to head home. The second bell is like the tardy bell. Families are expected to be home, praying, having family time. The men stand sentry over the village, to assure that no one disturbs family time. Fatu said if we stopped the car, we would be detained. Some villages beat people who stop. Beat them with sticks.

The next village watchmen were dressed in yellow and black, the next all white, the next blue and white.
By the time Fatu and I got back to the compound it was very very dark. Kim and Gabe drove up in their car just after us. Colleen, poor baby, sounded a little better but not much. Cecelia and Agnes came back just a while later. After a short debrief of our day, we headed to a restaurant down the street, then it’s off to the airport to pick up Joe and Sr. Letia at 10:00.

I should work some more to get ready for tomorrow, but can’t. I feel like I’ve been beaten with a stick by the sentries. That might even be an improvement over the way I feel. I’ve caught Colleen’s cold/virus/flu . . . whatever.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.

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Friday, October 16, 2009
A night’s sleep didn’t help any. I got up and showered. The cold water felt like needles. I must have fever. Why today? Why not Monday? I don’t want to be sick.

Gabe Tischler is a fine man. A firefighter. Rescue worker. Disaster man extraordinaire who can fix anything with a Leatherman. But when I told him I was sick and started to cry, he got the “deer in the headlights” look, spun on his heels and when to find Kim. Tears are this man’s kryptonite.

Kim, being the amazing woman she is, brought me drugs, water and lots of psb’s (poor sweet baby). She left me with firm instructions to sleep all day. Get well. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Since she is the Incident Commander, I listened like a good soldier.

I slept most of the day but still didn’t feel much better. As the teams start to trickle in from the field they stop by my room to talk to be through the screen windows. I’m in quarantine, I guess. Unclean. Some of the sites didn’t fare well. Lots of havoc. Miscommunications. Turf wars with other organizations. Hot. Rainy. I’m so jealous. I really wanted to play today.

Click here to donate to the Catholic Charities USA Disaster Response in American Samoa.