johnny31_b_good

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Jerimiah was a bullfrog... he was a good friend of mine...

"Clap please" Jerry cuts in as Leasu tried to read the names of the shortlisted contestants. Sarah Redfern is the High School and Jerry, Leasu and Jihann were given the uneviable task of MC for the finals of Eureka '05 played out at the Campbelltown RSL Club for the third year running. Their theme for this year, "Talent Quest", was to be the introduction to the five acts required of all schools in the finals.
The crowd clapped as Jerry demanded. Everyone had fallen under his spell when he appeared with his sleeveless-mini-skirted-sparkly-man-eater-dress. That in itself got the audience going as his six-foot-six frame propped up by his huge league legs protruding under his sexy mini made him look like Aunty Tala at the Melbourne Cup races.
"I just wanna scratch you," he strutted his stuff to the complimentary and appreciating crowd. Even the judges couldn't hold their "composha" when Jerry was under the spotlight for those few minutes. He touched every soul in that auditorium at that moment, even the rival schools realised the simplicity of this huge fella. Unashamedly putting himself, his family honour, his community honour, his school's name, his girlfriend's name (he didn't have one, he had ten including his History teacher). "Go Sarah, Sarah REDFERN!" was his departing words, his left fisted hand raised and the facial expression a total contrast of the feminine look only a few seconds earlier. What a FAFA!
That was four months ago...
The phone rang and Amanda took the call, walked outside for five or so minutes then came back in with a stunned look.
"Jerry is dead,"
"Jerry who?"
"Jerry, you know, Jerry, Mrs Sarah Redfern at Eureka,"
"Jerry Mrs Redfern who?"

"Jerry in my year," Amanda Jane said as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Silence...utter silence...utter utter silence as the reality of the moment got hold.
"No..this is a joke right? Jerry can't be dead, he can't die, no he's too young, he's too beautiful to die, he's too funny to die, he's too beautiful, no, noo, no!"
"He died last night," was AJ's barely audible response turning to face the wall. "It's true, I just talked to Junior, he was there last night." I embraced Amanda and we both cried. She was shaking so I held her tight and whispered in her ear. "Bub, I'm so sorry. You are not alone. We all feel the same and we will all make it through together." She was close to Jerry. For the short time I've known Jerry, I myself felt a deep sense of kinship with this kid. He was funny, smart and athletic. A leader amongst his peers.
"Bullshit, Jerry can't die, I nearly ran him over on Tuesday evening by the Youth Centre," I said trying to shut out the reality of the news. "He and Alan were returning from practice when I almost hit them." I started to feel a sense of outrage. "Who's done this? Who dared take away this gem of a human being?"
Shock and utter solemn silence. It was the parallel of when we got false news that Tofiga of the Laughing Samoan fame had passed on. It wasn't fair. It can't be true when people who have touched your soul deep deep deep down there is suddenly no longer. Bullshit, horseshit, dogshit...um..what else...Jerry is dead...Tofiga is dead...hold me back while I attack somebody, anybody...I'll settle for our neighbours cat which thinks our home is his home for the last two years and I've looked for an excuse to waste him, smash him, torture him.. umm... just total him, yeah, I've spent millions on feeding the bastard...now is my time for revenge...I'll take him out...but...nah, maybe not the cat, I like his owner, Kat, she's a fine specimen.
We went down to the school. The atmosphere was surreal. Everyone was crying, the students, staff, principal, deputy principal, the cleaner and his wife, the canteen ladies, the librarians, everyone except the police officers who were there to comfort the boys and also to keep the situation under control. Evidence of how this gentle giant had touched so many people around him.
There was the overwhelming understanding that a special individual had left us for good. The superstar has quit the show. And all this showed on his final days.
A community meeting was called immediately and I put in my five cents worth to ease the pain and to encourage the youngsters of their obligation to Jerry to keep the peace and love that he had always talked about. Pain was very obvious on everyone's face and Jerry's boys had been overheard calling for blood. No one was thinking rationally in the heat of the situation. We had to move fast to quell any fuel being added to that idea. Thankfully, the boys AND girls heard reason and decided that the best tribute to their fallen friend was to swallow their pride and stand together to resist any temptation to take up arms against the offenders family. They understood that in the end, there will only be losers and no winners. The only winners will be the media who would be having a field day and making megabucks from any negative repurcussions.
The family service was a who's who of the Seven Day Adventist church. Doctor Puni, the head of the church's international youth delivered a memorable eulogy, ministers came from all around Australia and New Zealand, his grieving parents and other family members flew over from Samoa. The church seated a thousand people and it overflowed onto the streets. The same happened the following morning at his funeral service. It was surely a tribute only reserved for celebrities and the like.
As it panned out, the cause of death was from loss of blood. He had been stabbed in the neck by another boy whose older brother was fighting with Jerry's brother and cousin from America. The cousin from America, apparently brought a bit of a gangster attitude and had started the fight. Jerry was at his uncle's place and he heard the commotion and had come out to stop it. The boy who inflicted the fatal wound acted in self defence, trying to help his brother. It was dark and he lashed out hoping to injure someone and put a stop to the fight. As the reality set in, everyone scrammed and Jerry's younger brother Alan held his dying brother in his arms. The police and ambulance were called and when they came, he was at the point of no return. An artery on his neck had been severed and he died soon after.
As I heard additional stories unfold, there was a common denominator in all of this ... ALCOHOL. This evil had ruined the lives of so many people and in the wrong hands, this is inevitable. Whatever and whoever was in the wrong or the right, things would not have turned out the way they did. It was such a surprise to hear that Jerry, a leader and a very intelligent and funny kid, was drinking alcohol. I know that his church does not allow for the consumption of alcohol and yet here he was, dead and gone, was drunk at the time of death. He may have been lured into it, he may have been pressured into it, I don't know. What is clear is that there is weakness in everyone even with larger than life people who touch people's lives in wonderful ways.
The night Jerry passed on, his friend Anne Robertson was singing in her last appearance on the Australian Idol competition. She was voted off the following night in which she dedicated her farewell performance to Jerry on national TV. His picture on the big screen behind Anne while she delivered an emotional tribute to her friend that would have brought a tear to every Australian who watched the show that night. Jerry's picture also appeared in many popular magazines after that. Wow! He was a celebrity alright.
All in all, a beautiful person had been taken away for all the wrong reasons and he will be missed. At least a lesson had been learned by all especially the young ones who might have this illusion that they are indestructible and immune to harm until it's too late. Jerry died and the two brothers had been arrested. Three lives have already been ruined and the countless hundreds affected as a consequence.
Death is a certainty of life and will visit us all at the most unexpected of times. Live life and give love and be loved, life is far too short.
Ia Ka'ilo.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

A Near miss....

"IF YOU DRINK AND DRIVE, YOU'RE A BLOODY IDIOT".
Slogan of the campaign to rid NZ society of this menace. Heartbreaking images of carnage and death attributed to this cause. Stories of families and their loved one's life taken away in an accident caused by some crazy drunk. I for one, was right behind it... however,
The normal Friday night din at the Star Hotel in Otahuhu after toiling for the week in our respective occupations, we settled into playing rounds of pool and clearing rounds of schooners that regularly appeared on our tables. Laughter and comradeship's always present at the pleasure of seeing each other again in good health. New stories were heard, some true some made up but who cares. We always had a good time. The Star Hotel had a reputation. If you heard of the movie "Once Were Warriors", the Star, I'm pretty sure, was the inspiration for it's pub scenes.
Among our group was an Electrical shop manager, a welder, a champion heavy weight boxer, a band leader, a loafer, a journalist, a convicted killer, a church deacon, a security officer, a mechanic, a car assembler, a bullshit artist, a couple of bouncers, a biscuit maker, a con man, a wanker, a casual labourer, an abbattoir worker, a hospital porter and a host of other friends who dropped in and out throughout the night. We had all the bases covered basically. Conversation was always diverse.
Two hours lapsed and about 20 jugs of lager later, "Let's go to ET," Motu declared. "Yeah, there's a Battle of the Bands semifinals on tonight," James announced. "Well, what we waiting for?" Niu joined in. Silence. None of these guys had a car. "Let's go bro," Motu said. "Yeah let's go," Niu said. "But how?" James interrupted. Silence.
"Manuia." Everyone charged their glasses.
An hour later, "The semi-finals is already on," Niu interrupted. "Yeah, there's a Samoan band in the semis!" Motu and James chorussed. The idea struck me, "Mmm.. Samoan group in the semis, now that's something you shouldn't pass up if you can help it," my thoughts after eight schooners and the odd shot in between. "OK, let's go boys," I said walking towards the door. I was in no situation to drive. My senses have just deserted me. We bundled into the Cortina parked at the back of the pub where Alice gave Jupi oral intercourse, a couple of nights earlier. "What's your name again?" she asked him half way through the ritual. "Iupeli Pauga and make sure you remember that," he assured her while pulling her head towards him. Iupeli, for information, is the guy who chopped off another guy's head in the Otara centre in '88 in one of the most gruesome crimes in the history of New Zealand.
"Give me a drink," said I. Everyone was in a 'Ya-hoo' mood as I turned the car onto Great South Road towards Otara. And as we turned the bend before the straight towards the former Foodtown supermarket (incidentally, was dressed up for the Once Were Warriors pub scenes), I could see orange flashing lights in the distance, heaps of them. "Oh no. CHECKPOINT!" Deafening silence in the car. The mood changed from celebration to surreal and things started moving in slow motion. I was at least three times over the limit. Remorse and all sorts of sorry thoughts raced through my head as there was only one person in the car that will feel the wrath of the law. There is no way out of this. The Police have stationed vehicles at all side roads leading to the checkpoint.
The Police have set up the witches hats that formed a one-way lane that led into the old Foodtown car park. Every car pulled up was directed to their own car park space and an officer would attend to them with the alcohol breath tester. An officer stood in the aisle directing cars to their respective spaces on both sides, one to the left then one to the right. We queued up behind five cars moving at a snail's pace towards the torch wielding officer pointing to his left then his right. We inched closer and closer. The car before us turned to the left and I was about to steer to the right when something mysterious happened.
Just as we moved up to the officer, he turned his head to his left. He was talking to another officer who had called to him from the other side of the road. It was his superior I'd say. It did not stop me crawling slowly past him. I looked in the rear mirror if he was going to signal me back but it wasn't to be. In those few seconds that took for him to turn his head (5 seconds max), I was able to move ever so slowly past the officer, albeit as quiet as a mouse, and continued over to the exit queue. I was now in the 'good' queue, the ones who are leaving after being cleared of any breach. I glanced into the rear mirror again and saw the car that was behind us move into the space that was meant for me. Things were still moving in ultra super slow motion. "No, this is not happening. I'm not that lucky," I thought. "I'm only dreaming, people don't get away from getting caught when they are this close. I will soon snap out of this fantasy. I am going to jail because I am not getting away with this. I deserve to be punished." These were my private thoughts. I was slowly slipping away from the crime scene, so to speak, from right under their noses. I was brought up a Christian and if I was true to my faith, I would pull over, hand over the keys and say, "Drunk as a skunk and I'm ready for my punishment. Send me to Robben Island for all I care." But I wasn't in the mood for religion and I was willing to turn a blind eye to those 'good' thoughts for the time being. The devil is in control of this sinner right now. I had to get out of there, I'll sort out a confession with Father Julio later, when I remember.
None of us had said a word yet. I exited onto Gt Sth Rd, heading towards East Tamaki to see the show. We turned left at the Dominion Breweries intersection and a further two Police vehicles were parked on each side of the road, obviously waiting for bolters. When we were about 100 metres clear of the last line of Police defence, everyone let out a collective, "Choooo Hooooo!" "There is a God," I thought. "If you are entitled to one divine intervention in your lifetime, this was mine for sure. Unbelievable!" Motu yelled out, "How close was that bro? You are one lucky bastard" There was an incredible sense of relief. Everyone knew the consequences. Everyone rode the moment with me and to be let off the hook in the final second was something else. You know a movie scene where the detonator is counting down the seconds as someone struggles to find the correct wire to cut to disable the bomb? It was that tense with one second to spare when the Police officer turned his head. I still couldn't figure out the impeccable timing that allowed me to go past and get away but nevertheless....
"I AM AN IDIOT" I know. I kept telling myself and vowed never to do it again. But I'm like anyone else, if you feel you can get away with it, then you're not hurting anyone. But my conscience had the better of me and I can confidently say that I haven't driven under the influence for as long as I can remember. It's just not worth it. Alcohol has ruined enough lives not only for causing road accidents but other accidents such as unwanted pregnancies or two black eyes.
Like uncle Sam sez, "The moral of the story is... I don't know... you work it out yourself "

You had any close calls?

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Loyalty - What a funny word!

Embattled NZ PI MP Taito Phillip Field is someone I still consider a pal, friend, comrade, associate and fellow Samoan.
It was one of those moments that will stay with you for the rest of your life when the TV (12" screen mounted up in the corner of the Labour Fale in Otara), announced that we have the first Pacific Island member of the New Zealand Parliament. The camera flashes were relentless, admittedly from my own, of this historical moment. We have a matai (chief) in a role of governance in New Zealand, the unofficial headquarters of Samoan people the world over. It was a campaign based on that fact, that there will be voice for our people on the main stage, in the world stage.
I have two albums of the night and as I reminisced on that night, tears welling up in the eyes (like Figa said, 'where else are they gonna come from?'), I saw some of the old warriors who have passed on (RIP) who endured the cold and uncomfortable days and nights pushing the barrow to have our first MP in Parliament. As honoured matais (chiefs) in Samoan circles, the tasks, as I saw them were belittling of their stature but it was that Samoan pride and spirit that inspired the likes of myself and a whole lot of other young souls at the time. The likes of Lavea Evile (Loveable rogue No. 1 (rip)), Manuleleua Asiata Fouvale (Loveable rogue No. 2 (rip)), Tanuvase Peter Grey, Sa Leutele, Maiava, Poasa, Vaega, Sila, Walter, Tuifa'asisina Olo, Letele Amani, Reuben Riki, Louisa Lavakula, Len Brown and many more. "We did it!" was the collective sigh from everyone. The realisation that history was unfolding didn't sink in until much later, the priority was to PARTAY! As the adrenalin kicked in, we totalled the quota of longnecks that was brought in for the night. "What now?" the new MP asked me. "The La Oso club is still open," "Ok we'll go there," the new MP decided after two seconds of considering. So the last speeches were said and the old folks were seen off to their lifts home and the rest of us headed down the road. One other thing I remember though, when the goodbye rituals were carried out, I got a juicy big smooch from a young lass whose dad was the late Laumea Matolu of the Samoan Parliament. She tiptoed up to my ear and said, "You nice," "What the...?" me thought. I felt like I was in the hippy, flower power, make love not war anything goes moment. She was pretty, no doubt, but it was one of those instances where you felt like you were in a trance and you wanted to love everyone in the vicinity. Everyone was everyone's best friend.
However, that walk to the pub was surreal, like it was about 11pm and here we are, about twenty of us 3/4 pissed, down the East Tamaki Road with our newly elected MP in tow. It would have been a field day for the tabloids if they knew about this part of that night. We were walking on cloud nine and untouchable...whatever! We got down there and we soon found three vacant tables which soon transformed into a family-pack-extra large round table and we were away. I went up to the manager and asked if Taito's win can be announced to the crowd and he was more than happy to oblige. Half an hour later, Taito was on the mike delivering his unofficial maiden speech to the crowd and got a standing ovation. I'm not sure if anyone heard anything he said but we assumed they did because they clapped. To put it mildly, we were pretty much out there in the galaxy by then. Our crowd was very diplomatic and courteous to all patrons until this guy took things a bit further. He had wandered over to our table and asked if he could pour his glass from one of our 20+ jugs on the table. Nobody minded since we all had that charity feeling about us. "Everyone can help themselves. Yeah, go on, be my best friend." But he came back for about the fifth time and instead of being friendly, he tossed the contents of his glass at one of our lady companions. His mistake was that he did this while standing next to Ali. Ali Afakasi is a former South Pacific and New Zealand champion boxer in his days. He kept himself fit all these years while working as a security officer with Chubb. Before we knew it, this poor guy was fast asleep in the corner, courtesy of a quick one-two from Ali. With the noise from the music, no one noticed anything out of the ordinary except a handful of us.
Around two o'clock in the morning, Taito asked me a question over the din of the nightclub, "Can you drop us down in Grey Lynn?" In the darkness of the club I turned to him and shook my head, "Bro, I am too inebriated and even if you are the newly elected MP, I can't do it. Catch a cab you tightass mother." We laughed. "Cheers," Claps and high fives. Thumps up and you beauty interrupted the blurry conversations that went on. I don't specifically remember any particular issue that was talked about that night come to think of it. The music was loud, the people were under the weather, the adrenalin was pumping to the realisation that Taito had just made it to Parliament, the realisation of the global implication of this moment, the reality that a Samoan FOB, incidently travelled to NZ on a banana boat, had made into the New Zealand Parliament, albeit the Opposition Party, of the same country that subjected our people to dawn raids and humiliation for decades. OVERSTAYERS! Yes, we are here and we are coming! Democracy has come to town... if only our people captured the essence of this flower... imagine what the endless possibilities. Anyways, back to the reggae night with our new MP.
"You're crazy man," I said to Poasa as I was tried to hold him up straight. He was blinking heavily, trying to focus on me talking to him. "Leaga ua molimaga'o mai laga Afioga i le Alii Faipule e momoli la'ua ma laga masiofo i Grey Lynn (It's because his Majesty has asked me to drop him and his Queen to Grey Lynn)," Poasa stammered wiping his mouth. Shaking my head I said to him, "Bro, you have problems holding your glass let alone hold a wheel of a car going on the freeway all the way to town and beyond." Loyalty. "E sa'o alii man, ae e kakau lava oga kali le maga'o o le alii faipule (I realise that but I have to oblige to the MP's wishes)." Blind loyalty. I said, "My brother, you are blinded both by the alcohol and your loyalty. I know you are a beautiful man, not a bloody idiot, but the MP should know better." He drove them anyway and don't ask me how they made it to their destiny.

Years later, Taito is now embroiled in controversy and allegations of corruption and undermining the values that he stood for. He owns numerous properties in several countries and Poasa is still struggling in his life trying to make ends meet.
Ia Ka'ilo.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Savaii trip and the one-man checkpoint

After staying in Apia for a few days I was so looking forward to going across to Savai'i, aka, Samoa. A friend of my cousin Savali offered me a ride to Mulifanua since he was going across to see his family in Iva for white Sunday. I picked up a Suzuki rental at Salelologa and headed off to the west to Safotu. Being used to driving with the wheel on the right, I had to get used to the idea that I would be changing gears using my right hand and more importantly, I have to stay on the right side of the road. I turned right at the main junction in Salelologa and about two hundred metres down, I could see a solo police officer standing on my side of the road. I saw a single cone sitting in the middle strip and he signalled me to pull over. "Umm.. a one-man checkpoint, that's original," I thought. I admit getting a little unsettled 'cause I've heard some tales about the behaviour of some officers dealing with the public, so as careful as possible, I pulled over and stopped. I glanced over to my left and saw the officer waving down a second vehicle which was a yellow van with no side door and about five men in it. Instead of pulling over, the van revved, changed to third gear and took off leaving a huge cloud of monoxide smoke in it's wake. "Ai kae! (Eat crap!)," I heard the driver of the van called out to the officer and the rest of his passengers cracked up, gave him the middle finger salute as they zoomed off. To someone who is used to the normal consequences of these actions, I was expecting the officer to rush over, jump into his police vehicle or motorcycle and give chase. But nah, the officer shook his head and walked towards my window and I heard him cursing, "Bastards." I scanned the surrounding area if there was a police-marked vehicle nearby but I couldn't see any. "Malo ali'i (Hullo sir)," he said. "Malo fo'i lau susuga (Hullo to you too sir)," I replied. "Where are you heading?" he asked. "To the west side to see family for white sunday." He took a step back and eyed the fourwheeler back to front. "Is this yours?" he said. "No, I've just picked it up from the rental place by the wharf." So he proceded to walk around to the front of the car. He stood there for a second and shook his head and then made his way to the back. He came back to my window and said, "Did you know that there's no license plate on your car?" "What?" I said, surprised of course. It crossed my mind for a split second that he might have ripped it off while I wasn't looking. "Yep, there's no plate in the front mate," he said. The thought of him ripping it off left me quite quickly because I had my eye on him while he was at the front of the car. "I just picked it up from the rental shop and we have overlooked it when we were doing the check," I said. "Have you got a Samoan license?" he fired a second question. "No, but I have an Australian one," I answered. "Did you get it stamped to allow you to drive in Samoa?" "No, I wasn't aware sir, they didn't tell me at the rental shop about that requirement." He held out two fingers and said, "So far you have broken two laws," "Damn!" I thought. "I'm a goner." I offered a course of action to redeem myself. "I'll go straight to the rental people and return this car and get another one," He held out his hand and said, "Look, it's OK, but you must avoid getting into any accident along the way to avoid getting in trouble with the law," Hullo! He's my favourite cop already! Giving me sound advice of how not to get in trouble with the law even after breaching two already. Maybe it's three strikes you're out! "It's OK officer, I'll just turn around and go back and get another one," I said this, knowing that there were no more rental cars left because that was the last one I booked. "It's OK," he said. "My advice to you is to go slow when you come to the villages. Look out for running children and pigs crossing the road." I'm thinking, "Bro, I love you." I was about to reach for my wallet to give him a $10 token of appreciation but he insisted that I move on and godspeed in my journey and wished me good luck and a happy white Sunday. Before going though, my curiousity got the better of me and I asked the officer, "By the way sir, I noticed you didn't give chase to that van you tried to stop. They yelled abuse and took off, what do you do about that stuff?" He nodded and said, "I'll get them one day and they'll pay." I think he meant that literally. "Plus I have no car to chase them with," I almost said to him, "Have you considered running after them?" But common sense prevailed.
I made a couple of stops on the way taking in the beautiful sites of Savaii and then when I thought it was over, the car refused to start after I stopped at Ga'iga's shop in Safotu to ask for instructions. I was only about 300 metres from the Tino and Fa'aea's driveway when this happened. I called the rental crowd and they insisted that I don't touch anything until they get there. I did tell them for me to check the battery connection for any loose wires so to save them coming all the way from the other side of the island to fix it. While waiting outside the shop, I got an offer from three lovely women, to come and have lunch with them at their fale (house). After doing a bit of noseying inside the shop with the shopkeeper, they found out about my predicament and they wanted to show their world-renowned Samoan hospitality. I considered the idea to kill time 'cause it takes an hour for the mechanic to arrive. Tino got word that I was stuck so he walked down and we waited for the mechanic. An hour and a half later, the rental company manager and the mechanic turned up only to find that it was only a loose battery connection. The manager gave his mechanic an earful for not doing a thorough check and he assured me that this has never happened before, ever! Whatever! We went home and it was a blur from that point on, courtesy of Vailima. Even with the setbacks, Savai'i is still paradise.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Pegu Koko

O le ko'alua o Pegu Koko, o Lauki, ua maua laga galuega ia Fisher n Paykel e fai ai pusa 'aisa. E galulue Lauki ma isi kama'ika'i Samoa, Lalotoga, Maoli, Toga ma Palagi. A fai le malologa o le smoko, ua kalakala le 'au kama'ika'i gei ma kalie ia a lakou mea e fai i o lakou aiga. E masagi fo'i oga kalagoa i mea valea ma ula le isi i le isi io lakou ka'i ko'alua pe lelei i le 'wild thing'. O Lauki e masagi oga fa'alogologo i kala a le 'au ma'ika'i ia ma mafaufau. Ua o'o iga fa'amakalakala au'ili'ili iai e le Maoli ma le Palagi ia Lauki le faiga e masagi ai oga la fai ma o la ka'i ko'alua i le po. Ua mafaufau Lauki, "Umm, magaia la pe a fa'aka'ika'i mea ia ua fa'amakala mai e le Maoli."
O'o loa i le po, fa'apea aku Pegu Koko, "Ia o le a le mea e fai o lea ua momoe kamaiki." Ua oso a'e le fiafia le leoa o Lauki ma fa'apea, "Akonu e maua ai fo'i se fiafiaga fou o loga ko'alua pe a fai aga mea fou ia ua maua mai i le Maoli ma le Palagi. Oso loa i luga Pegu Koko ma amaka ga luelue. Oi, e ese le mea ua fa'alogo aku Pegu ua kupu. A so'a aku, ua so'a mai Lauki. Koe so'a aku ae koe so'a mai fo'i. Mafaufau Pegu, "Ai o le maluelue o le moega."
Koe fa'asa'osa'o le la'au a Pegu ma koe so'a. Ae leai, ua koe so'a mai fo'i Lauki. Fa'apea Pegu, "Se'i kaso'o a'u so'a pe sa'o a o le moega." Kope loa laga sefulu kolu, ae fa'alogo aku, leai, e sa'o a o Lauki lea e so'a mai. Malolo lea o Pegu ae fa'alogologo. O la lava e kaso'o mai a so'a a Lauki, ua sefulu ogo. Ua ke'i a si keige o Lauki ua kakao e Pegu ma fa'apea aku, "Shhh.. Ia Ku'u La'ia... O fea eke sau ai ma ga mea fou?" Kalofa e, ua okegia a ia o la e fai loga fiafia.

The moral of the story is... I don't know... if you want to do it right, better to do it yourself, by yourself!

O upu faaSamoa, faaperetania, toe faaSamoa:

"Ua fumfa le pisigisi" (Ua le lelei le kala i le selegi)

"O ai ga kago i la'u mea lea sa ku'u i lalo o le fala?" (O lo'o su'e le luasefulu sege sa ga ga i lalo o le fala papa)

"Aua le kago fua le isi i le mea a le isi........ ma le ki ga ai o le mea a le isi." (Aua le aia fua)

"E ala ga falala le giu oga o le kelevavave o ka'avale." (Ua kele le alai)

"Ku'u!" (Ua uma oga pakaku le po i le alafau)

"E... 'Ai Pageka!" (Misa a fa'afafige)


"Kasi ae fo'i aku lau lua." (Ua e pepelo fo'i a'u)

"Se o a'u lava ga muamua i kokogu." (Figau oki ua alu i kokogu i le poka ae leai e le'i alu)

"Ua siaki le palali?" O le fesili a le koea'iga i le isi koea'iga o lo'o kau igisigia laga ka'avale. Kali mai le isi koea'iga. "Se o le palali fou a!" (Magaia pe a iloa mea ga e loke pe a fia igisigia)

"Eke makamaka iai i le mea eke o'o iai pe a ou kago ia oe." (Ia 'ai ose aka kalake)

"'Ia fai a, ga ua kolu, e fa loa oga makamaka lea o kagaka i le kala laukasi mai o ou gifo i lalo." (Okegia e le kama loga akali'i fa'alogogaka, ae o le kamaikiiki e ga'o le kolu kausaga)

"Magaia,.......... Avaku le alofa ae kali mai i le kaepu, a? (Ua kali kualima le faaaloalo)

"eA?" (Kali a le keige kukuli iga ua ole e Giko 'a'o fai kauvaga a aukalavou)

"Aua le popole, fai mai o le la ua forfeit le ka'aloga." (Fa'apea a le FOB o le uiga o le forfeit o le la e fa'akali le laufali) Iga ua iloa ua malo fua le isi 'au, e pei o le vaovaoga o le a igoa le pupulu aku o le kiga lea ga fai mai aua le popole ua forfeit le ka'aloga... call the Mr Bolise.

Koe feiloa'i i se kaimi oi luma.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Greetings in the name of I and I, Jah!