I Was In A Musical about Silence, PART I

HUSH, and other Sounds

The beginnings of HUSH: The Musical

Starring: Nathan Sam Pomare, Krystal Elizabeth Juffa, Jasmine Koria, Daniel Koria, Tamiana Olano, Alofau Rile, Benjamin Lelevaga, Grace Pauga Greed, Elisapeta Fepulea'i, Abbey Tofamamao Heather, Eseta Corrine Uili, and Lars Gustaf Bell 

The Official Poster for HUSH: The Musical (2023).

Two weeks ago I was in my first-ever musical. The work was a collaborative production of Brown Girl Woke, Samoa Performing Arts and Creative Excellence (S.P.A.C.E), the United Nations Education, Social and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and the Ministry of Education, Sports and Culture (MESC). I was a writer, vocalist and narrator/performance poet in the show. Busy does not even begin to describe this season of my life. 

At our first writing session, we, the writing team, threw around several onomatopoeic words and phrases. We knew right from the beginning that we wanted the narrative to have a poetic, lyrical flow. Think, ocean waves and sandy sea breezes. The focus of our work was to be IPV (intimate partner violence) and DV (domestic violence), and the way in which silence both perpetuates and prolongs these societal woes. We talked about the sound 'shhh' that is often heard when a child talks too loudly. 'Shh' is a very interesting expression- it can also be used to menacingly get someone's attention, or to jokingly brush off someone's attention. For some reason, as we all sat around the table making the 'shh' sound, the word 'HUSH' came to my mind. I blurted out, 'Shh sounds like HUSH!"...and everyone thankfully indulged my idea (lol). Thus, the musical got its name. And the serious work of drafting scenes, sequences, choosing songs and arranging the cast list began. 

One of the things I am most thankful for is that I starred in my first musical under amazing direction. Brown Girl Woke's Doris Tulifau and Yvette Alalatoa, and S.P.A.C.E's Valentino Maliko were an absolute dream to work for. They were visionary, perceptive, creative and super accommodating of our cast's different schedules (and personalities!). Directing and producing a musical in the developing Pacific is very different from running a show in, say, Auckland or Sydney. For one thing, you will most likely be working with artists whose 'art' is but a part-time or spare-time endeavor. Most people- especially young people- in our part of the world cannot afford to do their craft full time. The majority of our cast, and even the directors themselves, has full-time work and study schedules PLUS a myriad of family and community obligations that we had to very carefully work around. Then, of course, there were the usual setbacks like illness and bad weather. I should know...I had a bad episode of vertigo mid-week, two weeks before the show opened. I literally woke up in the E.R (fun times!) with a nurse (who happened to be a former student of mine!) telling me I had low blood pressure. Side note, I could barely talk but was so bloody proud to see my student living out the full fruition of his dream! Yay for Pacific success :)

Something I'll never forget is the human compassion and kindness that our directing team extended. They wanted the show to be a success, yes, but they also cared deeply about the health and well-being of their performers. I got the rest of the week off and they checked in on me constantly. Dream work environment, if ever there was one!

The final cast was a twelve-member ensemble. We were all versatile performers, the majority of us being able to sing, dance, write AND act. The Pacific is brimming with talent, but still lacks opportunity. Just before opening day, my brother arrived from Melbourne for his usual end-of-year holiday. He's an amazing performance poet, writer and rapper, so of course I kinda-sorta talked him into joining us. Yes, Samoa is THAT small-you and your entire family be in a play together before you know it 😂 

As a cast, we got on GREAT. Everyone was super supportive- there is nothing quite like knowing your co-workers are truly, genuinely rooting for you. If I had to attribute our success to any one single thing, it'd definitely be this. We had a lot of laughs, and a ton of great conversations about everything from where we grew up to how to become TikTok famous. Remember when Nelly sang "we started as strangers, now we leavin' as brothers'? Yeah. This was the vibe. We worked long nights sometimes, plus there was the general exhaustion and of course, for us narrators, a couple of slip-ups and forgetting lines. But we worked through it, and an absolute gem of a lesson that I have learned from this experience is that PEOPLE make all the difference. You can have the most high-tech, state-of-the-art facilities or the biggest budget in the world. An unsupportive team holds everyone back. I'm so blessed, so grateful, that this was not our case. We were a team in that cliche but important way: together, everyone achieve(d) more. Thanks team!

(to be continued...)

Dear Women In History (an open letter to the girls in my History classes)

RE: Be Brave

Dear Francine, Susana, Kanisshi, Happy, Lemonoria, Misialofa and Maggie,

This week you graduated and I remembered how we talked in History class about Bismarck and the two contrasting Kaisers. Be brave because women of our complexion are still largely missing from the narratives and discourses that are supposedly "World History." Not two hundred years ago, no one like us had dreams like you- not out loud, at least: law school, medicine, education, classical music. We were not allowed so we went about not breaking the mould, not talking too loud. Fit in, fit in. They told us.

As you fly away, be brave because 'good music' still looks like Beethoven and Mendelssohn. White and male. When you played 'Waltzing Matilda' on the strings that day, you held all of recorded History by its singular thin thread. Don't be careful. Challenge it and challenge them and CHANGE IT ALL. Write your Samoan names on the Berlin Wall (or what's left of it...), and break down the walls that want you to stay small. You are tall so stand tall.

Be brave, most of all, because life is difficult and the world is cold. You know the Cold War was about ideas, so THINK, so DREAM, so touch the sky and plant your own flag on the moon. Many things and people will stand in your way, but don't you be one of them. Get out of your own way and lead the way.

Our ancestors knew every constellation by name. Be brave because you are descended from navigators and seafarers and mathematicians. Be brave for your families, and be brave because it takes courage to remember. And to forget. Such is History. And such is life. 

Love,
Ms. K

With Francine Ausage, my top Year 13 History student of 2023, and her classmate, Susana Lina John. 

Who Do You Think You Are? Part II

They Call Her 'Alayo'

"Alayo", he said. "One for whom bread is not enough."

-A Raisin in the Sun, Lorraine Hansberry

When I remember my first trip to Europe, I remember, more than anything, the various emotions that I felt on the way and whilst there. It's like that, I think, with most things in my life. I remember events, places and people based on how they make me feel.

After overcoming that initial laundry hurdle from Part I of this story, I was faced with what I can only describe in the words of Po, reluctant Dragon Warrior: my old enemy. Not stairs (well, yes stairs, but not so much!). No. My old enemy is social awkwardness! I know, I know. I have three/four jobs, ALL of which require daily interaction with people both virtually and IRL. Word to the wise: Socializing more and working more with people DOES improve social anxiety, but it often does not 'cure' it. I'm using the word 'cure' here because it best describes the kind of social awkwardness and anxiety that I have.

I still recall the first day of the conference. Curators, Vice Curators and other executive members from Global Shapers Hubs all around the world were lining up to register for the summit. As I descended the staircase to join them, I could hear them chattering away about checking into their rooms, meeting their roommates (omg!) and picking up their welcome packs. I was a little sad to be leaving the room I had had to myself for my first two nights in Geneva. Of course, there was also a little pang of excitement as I went to see where they were going to move me. That registration line was one of the most transformative experiences of my life. I've never before been in such a happy, welcoming environment! Everyone, and I mean, EVERYONE, was saying 'hello' like old, long-lost high school friends. Sometimes, interactions in these kinds of spaces can feel forced or pressured. However, there was absolutely none of that in any of the queues we stood in. Despite our jet-lag, several missing bags, and even a mistaken room number or two, everyone was so thrilled to meet people with similar ambitions and challenges.

When the Summit first kicked off, they allocated participants into smaller groups called Purpose Circles. We'd meet every morning, between sessions, and every evening, before going back to our hotel. As the name probably suggests, the Purpose Circles were to help connect Shapers on a human, personal level. They were to provide a 'base' that we could come back to for moral support as well as, hey, just people to eat lunch with :) This is such a gift for a socially awkward, anxious person like myself who is still learning to be comfortable in crowds. Our purpose circle comprised of eight Curators/ Vice Curtaors: Alliance (from a hub China), Madhav (from a hub in India), myself (from the one and onlyyyy hub in Samoa), Emmanuel (from a hub in Nigeria), Madai (from a hub in Mexico), Bengu (from a hub in Canada), Anastasija (from a hub in Serbia), and Joel Dean (from a hub in Jamaica). Our leader was Thales, a former Shaper, from Brazil. Each Purpose Circle had a number- ours was '45'. 

When I was growing up, the youth at church used to sing this beautiful song: The Circle of Friends. Attending the Global Shapers Summit 2023 and meeting people from all walks of life, all manner of nationalities and cultural as well as religious backgrounds, has made this a reality for me. I remember eating lunch with Madhav, Emmanuel and, surprise, one of my wantoks from P.N.G: Kurere. As we searched for a shady spot to eat and look out over Lake Geneva, Madhav asked us, "have you guys read The Alchemist?" We then all said at the same time, I kid you not- "The universe conspired to help me find you!"


What a beautiful testament to our shared humanity. To the commonness of our love for learning, for art, for friendship, for sharing. That four complete strangers from four supposedly dissimilar and geographically distant parts of the world should say the exact same quote from the exact same book at the exact same time is proof that humanity is capable of so much magic and beauty. And that the universe still conspires, every day, to help us love and heal and grow.

Emmanuel and I, after a great afternoon of discussing books, books, books, and how awesomely cool the European summer is compared to the saunas that we call home. #Nigeria #Samoa

One amazing thing I learned about my new friend Emmanuel, from Nigeria, is that he too is crazy about literature! Lit lovers are a dangerous combo if you don't wanna hear about books, books, and more books...for three hours straight! And by books, I mean, we know every theme, quote, plot point...publisher's name! What a brilliant thing it is to be drinking apple juice and analyzing Chinua Achebe in the middle of Europe! From Achebe, we naturally progressed to talking about the Foundation N.U.S staple, A Raisin in the Sun. It's the best friend and worst enemy of so, so many young people who take HEN005 (Introduction to Literature) in Samoa. It has also been one of my forever loves. A play that speaks life and power into dry bones. When Emmanuel told us he was a Yoruba, just like Joseph Asagai, I knew I had to ask him for the actual meaning of that famed (and majestic!) nickname Joe gave Beneatha. "Alayo". According to the play, it is supposed to mean, "one for whom bread is not enough." It's intended as a compliment to Beneatha's stubbornness and independence. She was, after all, a Black woman in 1950s America who dreamed of becoming a doctor and marrying for love. She was told to give up, to shut up, to settle down, to calm down. In a world where women are faced with so many ups-and-downs, imposed, often, by others, Joseph sees and admires Beneatha's refusal to be shut down or locked up. "What does Alayo MEAN?" I asked my new friend. "You hear things in more depth when they are spoken in your native language. I know Lorraine Hansberry was an American. But you are a Yoruba. So, you must tell me, please, what do you hear, when they say, ALAYO?"

Emmanuel smiled. He's a lawyer and a tech developer and marketer. Witty, wise, thoughtful, and very mindful- as most young people from former colonies are- of the reverence that our indigenous languages deserve. "Alayo," he finally answered, "is not a name that can be summarized in one or even a hundred sentences. It is too full of meaning, too deep and too wide, for any single definition. You can't, you know, contain it!" He was going to apologize to me for giving what he thought must be a limited definition. I stopped him. "That," I said, "is the best thing I've ever heard." And then I told him and Madhav I wished I could change my name to Alayo😂

Over that weekend, I met so many amazing young people who are changing the world for the better. Some had flown out of active war zones just to be there. Just to tell their stories, and to hear the stories of others. I estimate that seventy percent of the people I said hello to had no idea where (or what!) Samoa even is. I'm a proud Samoan. That was a humbling and eye-opening few days for me. Perhaps this is kinda what the Overview Experience is like for astronauts? I remember a retired astronaut once said, "you look out...everything you've ever known is there. It fits right behind your thumb. It's amazing, You can even cry!"

The world is a massive melting pot of stories, hopes, dreams, fears...Of all the attempts there ever have been to define what it means to be a human being, I will always like best the one I have taken from my friend Emmanuel's respect and understanding of his language. Humanity is so broad, so powerful, so ambitious, so full of strife. The moment you accept your greatness, but also your smallness, you take the first and most crucial step in celebrating the diverse magnificence of the race that we all belong to: the human race.

Is it Worth It?

E-Value-ating Value

"Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now."-Homer

As a teacher of both language and literature, my simultaneous best friend and worst enemy is words. Yes, without words I'd have no career. And we as a species would have little else to differentiate our supposedly 'superior' means of communication from those of our fellow life forms on Earth. Still. I hate words as much as I love them. I know I'm not alone in this dilemma.

It's words like 'value' that put me off. They're super simple- easy to spell, easy to pronounce, and definitely easy to remember. The problem is in defining them. How do you sum up, surmise, describe, something so uncomplicated but also broad and unwieldy?

'Value' is both a noun and a verb. It is used synonymously with words like 'worth', 'deserving', 'quality' and 'price'. It is the root word for such terms as 'evaluate', which are central to the way we make both important and mundane decisions in everyday life. To evaluate something is therefore to observe its most obvious characteristics, assess how these do or do not meet your present needs/wants, and then place the thing on either the lower or upper part of your personal continuum of 'worthiness'. Something is only as valuable as it is useful. A fresh, crisp turkey sandwich is of no value to me: I'm allergic to turkey! My younger brother is impartial to the stuff- it's not 'precious' to him, but it's also not valueless.

What about the value we place on the people around us? HOW do you even e-value-ate a human being? It's rather unkind to speak about a person in terms of their 'use' to you. At least, not out loud. The truth is, even unconsciously, it is not above our nature to assign 'value' to other people based on how 'useful' or, indeed, 'useless' they are to us. I remember being a young academic, working my first ever job as a junior lecturer at the local state-owned university. I made it my first priority of the day to arrive early to the lecture theater for my first-ever lecture. You don't want to be late for something as amazing as that, especially if you're just starting your career. I got there fifteen minutes early and stood at the podium, re-checking my slides for the last time and waiting for the tech and media guys to come in and give me any info I might need (you never know what could happen: screen freeze, blackout...earthquake!). Two minutes in, I heard giggling. I ignored it until it became full-blown laughter. I turned to my left to see three young men having a good laugh...at me! "Shh, gofo ia i lalo! Aoooo!" (Oh, just sit down!) one of them quipped. I was twenty years old, probably the same age as one or two of them, and they could not tell I was a lecturer. The utter, abhorrent disrespect! The sheer audacity...But also, the sheer truth this revealed about how young people talk to one another. These students placed little to no value on my self-esteem, ego, reputation or any other thing that might have been utterly demolished had I actually been 'just another overconfident girl.' I knew their cause: they were tired of seeing their female peers goofing around, mimicking lecturers and generally just seeking attention (haven't we all been eighteen and very silly before?). But even this approach, I thought, was very unkind.

How did I deal with being devalued on my first day of work, by the very people I was there to work for? I let them laugh. Until the clock struck 12, the lecture hour, and my colleague came in to give out the lecture attendance register sheets. The students greeted him enthusiastically- he was a more senior academic, and had a great rapport with everyone. "Mr, what's the lecture on today?" one of the kids who had laughed at me called over. "You may ask Ms. Koria, " my colleague smiled, gesturing towards me. "She's delivering today's lecture, and also co-coordinating this course with me!" I have never seen so many jaws drop in my life.

That sounds like a great victory moment in a Hollywood blockbuster, right? Well, it was NOT. If anything, it was a very sad but timely reminder of how quickly we as humans add and subtract value to and from each other on a daily basis. My value shot up in those moments because I appeared useful. I had knowledge to pass on. I had experience to share.

What's the way forward for a situation like this? For a revelation like this? Is there a way forward?

I'll always believe there is!

A year after that unfortunate first lecture, two of the three young men landed in my literature tutorial. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to finally make my point- but kindly, and in a way that would help all of us. Together, we studied the beautiful Kate Chopin short story, Desiree's Baby. It tells of segregation-era couple Desiree and Armand, whose union produces a coloured child, much to the shock of both their very white families. Armand blames Desiree, who he knows to have been adopted by her childless parents. Despite her very pale complexion - "whiter than you, Armand"- her obscure origins make her an easy scapegoat. Desiree tries desperately to save her marriage- she writes home to beg her parents to come and see Armand, and 'confirm' that she is, indeed, white and of European ancestry. Her mother writes an interesting, wonderfully wise response: "Desiree, come home. Come home to your mother who loves you. Come and bring your child." It is only after chasing both Desiree and the child out of their home that Armand makes a shocking discovery: his beloved mother, who had supposedly died in childbirth, was actually absent from his life because she was a coloured woman, and did not want her light-skinned child to deal with the shame of being 'labeled' by such a cruel society.

So, I asked my class, "what do we learn from this?"

Immediately, one of the young men from the lecture raised his hand. "Miss, I think the story is telling us that we should be kind to everyone, no matter whether they're green or blue or pink or old or young or short or annoying...you know what I mean? Because they're people. And people do matter. And sorry for what we said last year, Miss. You're very cool- you didn't chase us out."

"Of course not," I told him. "Because I valued you guys. Still do."

WHY THOUGH? Part II

So Much for So Little?

Volunteer work, N.G.O.s, not-for-profit networks...blogging. These are much-needed, and VERY difficult to do when you live in a third world country that's about as big as an ink blot on an atlas. Also, it's Samoa, for goodness sake. Everyone has a job, maybe even two, and then there's the deluge of family fa'alavelave, 'autalavou meetings, alumni fundraising group chats (hopefully not more than two!), loan deductions...SO: Why even bother taking on an extra workload (and the extra #issues it might bring) for FREE?!

My previous entry was part of the answer to the (very long) question above. A question that, as I said, people love to ask. In thinking about the whole concept of 'asking questions', I realize that while, yes, our Pasifika societies are generally really inquisitive, they also have a deep-rooted love for story-telling. We were chanters, singers, dancers, musicians, navigators and artists- on skin and tree fiber- long before the written word was given to us. A question is, in essence, an invitation to tell a story. It can be a long story: a close friend's "how are you?" can lead to you sharing about an illness in the family or a spat with a nosy colleague. An acquaintance's "how are you?" is generally responded to with the generic "I'm fine thanks, how are you?" We go on and on, being not fine, but saying nothing of it, because even something as abstract as storytelling has its unspoken and clearly defined limits. 

At my father's funeral, his older brother started his eulogy with these words: "Never has so much been given for so little. I know this was originally spoken about some great and famous world leader. But in my little world, I considered my brother 'great', and I consider this to be a very great sacrifice!" This is the way in my Samoan extended family- we say things 'straight up', and how you process any and all of it is your responsibility. It's a tough family to be from- but a good one- all the same, because it prepared me for the harshness of the outside world. And it gave me the same sense of purpose and duty that my father had in his lifetime. Part of this sense of purpose is understanding that the reward for good, worthwhile work is not always a financial one. 

I'd never knock money out of the loop: I, and most people my age, have about six different 'problems' that a little extra cash would definitely go a long way to fix. Money is important. What does that meme ask: ever tried to pay for a trip with courage? (lol) Exactly! WE NEED MONEY! But...it is not, and never will be, the only or most important thing that we need. 

I volunteer, aside from my multiple paying jobs, because it makes me happy. Expending time, energy and brainpower is of course by no means the sole way for a clinically anxious or depressed person like myself to find #TrueHappiness (what even is that...?). It is, however, one of the BEST ways for ME to truly enjoy my life and to reach my ultimate goal: making a difference in my world. You'll notice I use the possessive pronoun "my" there instead of something more general like "the". I know I can't, and probably won't, change the entire planet. I'm just a girl on a little island. But I know I can change my world: the people and places that I have access to. Everyone has their own world- their own sphere of impact and influence.  I often lie on my couch and imagine just how amazing it will be if/when we all do just a little extra to make a difference in our own worlds. The world itself will become a brighter, kinder, more thoughtful place. Yeah, this sounds like a massive delusion, what with the state of international relations at the moment. But if we humans made this little pale blue dot (Carl Sagan's analogy, not mine), so full of war and pestilence and ignorance, surely we are also powerful enough to make it just a little more peaceful, healthy and educated? 

For the last two years, I've been a member of the Global Shapers Community. It's basically the youth engagement arm of the World Economic Forum. Yes, yes, it's completely VOLUNTARY! The goals of our community are simple: we want to include young professionals- aspiring leaders from all walks of life- in the planning and implementation of initiatives that directly shape the future of the world that they are going to inherit. It's a big and small world, after all. The local Shapers Hub in Apia currently has two projects. The first, of which I am Project Lead, is called  the Atamai Online Education and Career Planning Project. We focus on improving educational equity, accessibility and career planning for tertiary students and job seekers in Samoa. Our passion for making education an open-access commodity, so to speak, is born out of our own experiences in the local education system, but also from witnessing the struggles of many young people whose schooling years were interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic and its resulting lock-downs. The second project, called the Carbon Audit, is spearheaded by the many engineers that our hub is blessed to have on board. Their mission is to promote open dialogue about environmental and climate change issues in Samoa, and to raise awareness in our communities about the indispensable role of youth in the ongoing fight against the rising sea level, heightened global temperatures and, most prevalent of all, misinformation.

Will our two little projects get every student in Samoa educated, or stop the high waves from lapping high over the Apia seawall at random times? Probably not. But: will they help a recent uni graduate put relevant info on her CV? Will they remind a group of Year 9 boys not to throw their ice-pop packaging into the nearest waterway? DEFINITELY. And that is all the difference they need to make. That is the world they need to change. It is so little, I agree. But it is also so, so much. And it is worth it.