Op-Ed: Why my generation struggles with this loving Samoan tradition
Home for me is New Zealand. My parents, both born and bred in Samoa, settled here when their eldest child, my older sister, was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at birth. The move ensured Saleima received clinical care not available in Samoa. It also meant living here and raising her, and eventually two other children (myself and my younger brother) away from their parents and most of their family members - a tough prospect for a couple grounded in family and village life that offered the type of support seemingly irreplaceable away from Samoa.
In almost every way, my childhood has been different to theirs. I didn't go to school with my cousins, I didn't attend church as often as they did, and my Samoan is nowhere near as fluent as it ought to be. Despite this, fears about the lack of a family support system proved unfounded.
Juggling three children, including one who was severely disabled, wasn't easy. We managed with the help of cousins, aunts, uncles and friends. When Saleima died aged 14, those people filled our home and celebrated her life with us. In keeping with Samoan tradition, fine mats and monetary gifts were also exchanged.
Fa'a Samoa - which broadly translates to the Samoan way - encompasses all these things. It is about love and service to family at significant occasions like the death of a loved one or the assigning of a matai title, as well as in daily life. The exchange of fine mats, money and other types of gifts at big occasions, known as fa'alavelave, not only honours tradition and shows respect, it also acknowledges the significant burden those at the centre must shoulder. That outward display of love and solidarity is something that gives strength even to a 13-year-old mourning her sister.
Fifteen years on, and numerous fa'alavelave later, my enthusiasm for the practice has changed thanks to the amounts of money being handed over. Contributions, which can often total in the thousands of dollars, are causing significant financial strain for families, detracting from the traditional cultural values associated with fa'a Samoa.
In 2016, a survey of 400 Auckland Samoans predominantly aged 19-35 on attitudes towards fa'alavelave found many participants felt contributions had spiralled out of control. Coordinated by Robyn Lesatele, an Auckland University Pacific Studies and Law student, her research undertaken for the survey showed contributions could reach up to $10,000.
Survey participants reported families had been forced to take out loans to meet financial obligations, while others said the practice had become too materialistic with too much emphasis placed on the amount of money being exchanged, Lesatele said.
A narrower study by Waikato University psychology researcher Dr Byron Seiuli looked at Samoan cultural practices at family deaths. It also highlighted the strain placed on those responsible for organising a fa'alavelave. The pressure to "respond generously" to contributions, which occurs as part of the reciprocity practised under fa'a Samoa, was a "double blow" for those already struggling to deal with the death of a loved one, Seiuli wrote.
Furthermore, New Zealand-born Samoans also said "seeing their parents and extended relatives become stressed by financial commitments, or struggle to supply material resources to enact cultural requirements" made them doubt the value of contributing towards fa'alavelave.
Auckland couple Jeremy Tiumalu, 29, and Juanita Fuatavai, 28, understand the pressure families often face when contributing towards fa'alavelave. "When I was young, it kind of annoyed me because I knew my parents used to give quite a bit," Tiumalu said. "Mum and Dad didn't have a lot of money back then, and they'd still try and give a lot."
While excessive contribution amounts were unacceptable, understanding the reciprocal nature of fa'a Samoa and how it impacted fa'alavelave was important, Tiumalu said.
The couple, who have an 11-month-old son, said the "alofa" or love shown through monetary gifts at their 2013 wedding furthered their appreciation of the practice.
"It was completely unexpected. We saw first-hand the outcome of our parents' dedication to family. They had been giving for so long [to fa'alavelave], and when their siblings and cousins came to our wedding, they gave what they could," Tiumalu said.
Leading Pacific writer Maualaivao Albert Wendt, who holds a paramount matai title in his family, said everyone viewed fa'a Samoa, and the customary gift exchange at fa'alavelave, slightly differently. The 77-year-old, who currently lives in New Zealand but was born in Samoa, highlighted some of the difficulties people faced in their own families.
"Even within branches of [my own] family, I get annoyed at the matai when they make demands on the members of the family by enforcing contributions." When more powerful members within families expect people to contribute more than they could afford, that is not fa'a Samoa. "It should be practised fairly for everyone - you contribute what you can afford. If you don't have fine mats [and money], you can bring food or you come and help at the fa'alavelave, he said.