Liutofaga: Introduction

A few weeks ago I dreamt of my family - it felt so real. 

I'm walking up the driveway of my aunty's home holding a foil covered tray and I see the double doors to the garage are wide open. I walk through, wave hello and kisi people while I make my way to the back of the house.

I see my loved ones everywhere.

Oldies sitting on chairs deep in talanoaga, cousins bustling about doing feaus and parents chasing kids as they run weaving themselves through the maze of loved elders.

I hear my loved ones everywhere.

Witty banter bouncing back and forth in Samoan/english, random bursts of hyena laughter, music blaring and the crackle of meat as it roasts on the barbecue.

I feel my loved ones everywhere.

We work together in synced harmony. We set the table, arrange the seating and neatly place the foil covered trays containing food in the middle of the table setting. Loku is said then in unison we say Amene. 

I reach over and uncover the tray in front of me. I see a human spinal bone and everything goes still. 

My hands cover my eyes as I bow my head and weep while memories of loved ones waiting in the heavens fill my mind. I wake up crying unable to go back to sleep.

My dad's family practise liutofaga, at every family reunion held in Samoa groups of family members visit the ancestral tomb. As a child I remember some of my cousins returning from Samoa with stories of how they went to the tomb and cleaned the bones of our ancestors with fagu'u. 

I laughed and accused them of lying. Family tomb!? yeah right! I ran to dad so he could back me up and prove them wrong. I repeated the story, he nodded in agreement and said:

"E sa'o. The bones of the matai's in our aiga are placed in the family tomb. We clean the bones with coconut oil to remember them"

Bear with me as I open the tomb of memories and wipe the dust from the spinal bones of life lessons passed down from some of the women in my family. No tomb can hold or book fully detail the legacy of their resilience and love.

The plan is to release a series of blog posts as an attempt to write how they changed and blessed my life with love. In her poem titled "Women of Colour" Rupi Kaur wrote our backs tell stories no books have the spine to carry. 

To my loved ones waiting in the heavens, this is your liutofaga.

Fa'afetai mo lou alofa