I remember the 3rd of March, 1991. I was only 5 years old. It was also our 2nd week in our new land and house all paid for my dads hard working selling crops to local and some off island. I remember sitting on the dinning table with some of my siblings and my mom when all of the sudden my mom burst into tears and scream. I remember how our neighbors, our family members and church members all came over to our house and hug my mom and all of my siblings. My mom was not my mom I can recall because all she did was crying heavily even when we go to sleep.
I remember the next day, our house was full of people, some relatives and some faces I've seen before, each have a role to play. Some where at the kitchen cooking, some were cleaning the land, some were digging a hole, some were decorating our house with finemats and siapo. Group of people came with boxes of can fish, traditional finemats, a cow that just got killed, and envelope with money. A traditional culture in Samoa for family faalavelave (funeral/wedding/birthday). Well it sure wasnt a wedding or a birthday. I have all my cousins over same age group so I was pretty much occupied playing around with them just like any normal 5 year old will.
The next day my mom could barely see her eyes were swollen from crying. It was the day that I remember we woke up to go to church on a weekday which was odd. My mom wasnt with us, I remember my favourite white lace dress that's what I was wearing. At church my siblings and I were sitting in the front chair of the middle isle. I remember how many people were there that day, some of them whom I've known as family members some church members some village people, some new faces I've never seen before. I remember how one of the bishop of the church announced for everyone to stand up. In the back entrance of the main chapel a black box with wheels moving slowly towards the front, behind it was my mom in tears.
I was crying too but because I saw my mom for the 20th time in a role the past 2 days...