PMN’s Summer Series: My first trip to Samoa and the importance of seeing maluāpapa

Welcome to PMN's Summer Series, where we republish some of our best and most popular stories from the last 12 months - in largely their original form.

The theme for Samoan Language Week 2023 is “Mitamita i lau gagana, maua’a lou fa’asinomaga - Be proud of your language and grounded in your identity". And as Auia Vaimaila Leatinu’u (Ngāti Maniapoto, Vailoa in Faleata, Matāvai in Safune) found on his first time in Samoa, being in the land of his father’s birth has helped ground him in his heritage.

Last December my family and I left Aotearoa for Samoa for my older brother's matai title ceremony and my vai-matai* title.

It was a first for me, my mum, and my siblings, while for my dad it was his first time back in 50 years.

He and his aiga migrated to Aotearoa when he was 10, leaving behind the world of fa'asamoa.

He would then experience the potent discrimination towards Pacific peoples by fear mongering Pākehā and media-manipulated Māori, amplified by the unjust assault of the Dawn Raids that targeted Samoans and Tongans.

So as my dad eagerly peered out of the plane as we landed in Upolu, considering what he went through when he first assimilated into Aotearoa, whatever he was feeling was probably something I could never touch.

My father, back home half a century later. Photo/Auia Vaimaila Leatinu’u​​

The moment we stepped out of the plane the differences between Aotearoa and Samoa became clear.

Every worker in the Airport was brown, greeting anyone passing by in Samoan.

My dad excitedly returned the gesture, having short conversations happily in his mother tongue.

So many things stood out to me as we drove from the airport to our accommodation, Tanoa Tusitala.

Bright, bold and bolstering with simple colours, people's homes beamed creativity. The uniquely designed buses that carried the name of a village matched this energy.

It felt similar to the spirit of Pacific peoples because at our best we exude the colour and joy we carry through the sharing of affection, jokes, stories and loud laughs at bus stops.

The second thing that stood out to me was the many faletalimālō, or meeting houses, that would accompany nearly every home.

Then the third was that almost every home had at least one loved one buried on the property, with the same tile design for the graves that my Samoan grandparents' have in Aotearoa, including a gate that surrounds them.

I had always wondered why my paternal grandparents' graves in Aotearoa seemed different from most of the graves around them.

It all goes to show that the customs of Samoa reigns strong, which is something Māori still fight for.

During the first 30 minutes on Upolu, I had so many missing pieces get filled in.

Afterwards, I visited the famous sea wall of Apia, which I'd first heard of when music artist Poetik spoke about it.

As I peeked over the edge of the wall, disappointed but understanding of the rubbish discarded below, my dad told stories.

He told me when the sea wall was just a beach, my grandfather once ran from the cops and dove into the water on the far right end.

I also learned the story behind my name which comes from my grandfather: Vaimaila.

Before my grandfather was born in Savai'i, his father took off for Upolu.

Hence he was named Vaimaila, which roughly translates to "the distance between the water", a nod to his separation from his father.

The distance between the water for me tells of my separation from Samoa being born and raised in Aotearoa, so to learn this from my Dad while in Samoa felt like a full circle moment.

As for the titles, a dispute that meant we may not take the titles occurred.

However, during a family meeting my older brother made it clear, saying: "Title or no title, I will continue to serve my family."

Truly a rangatira (leader), his words brought to mind the proverb: "O le ala i le pule o le tautua" - the pathway to leadership is through servitude.

The issue was however thankfully resolved and we attended the early morning Saofa'i (matai ceremony).

My Dad and my older brother's father-in-law watched proudly with warm smiles as my older brother received his matai.

When the sun rose, its light landed on my brother's skin, illuminating the moment he took up the name Tuilagi Jeremy Richard Leatinu'u.

​Early Morning Saofa’i. Photo/Steph Leatinu’u (left) & Auia Vaimaila Leatinu’u (centre, right)​​

I once interviewed Minister Aupito William Sio, who said connection to your language and culture is imperative for mental health.

I thought of those I care about in and out of the system, somewhat stuck in the four corners of their hood and the mentality that comes with it and how a trip like this might have shifted their worldview.

According to the late Tui Atua Tupua Tamasese Efi, the Samoan term maluāpapa means “security in your connection to Papa", in which he says is akin to the Māori word, whakapapa, meaning “a heritage that derives origins from Papa".

And that’s what I experienced - the importance of not only knowing your maluāpapa but seeing it too, because fanua (land) truly is important.

It's an expensive experience though and considering how our people are frequently hit with inequities alongside Māori, I understand how much of a privilege that experience was.

It's a priority now for me and my partner's future tamaiti (children). It's something I need to do with my younger brother too who couldn't come.

I'll return with him first and then someday with my partner and our tamaiti​.

Until then, fa'afetai tele lava Samoa.

*Vai-matai, according to The Samoan Fale is “a ‘chief without a post,’ [thus] a chief without a say in the gathering, and therefore a chief with no power.” The way my father explained it is that I hold a minor title (Auia) in relation to the major title (Tuilagi). So, my role and responsibility is to support my older brother with whatever he needs to properly serve our aiga as one of our matai.