In Time

Afio ane loa le auga fa’apae

Se’i sausaunoa la’ei Samoa

Amata ususu o le ‘aiuli alu ma le atoa

 

Sulu i le malo ma malu ai le tuiga,

Salani i le u’u ua ova le ‘i’ila

Maualuga ai o le ta aso ua sili le mataina

 

Fai mamalu le faiva

E sili i le silasila

Tau lau agava’a

I si ou sa’asa’a

 

E le mavae le mamalu nai ou la’ei

E sili atu lava i ona po nei

La’ei Samoa e mamalu ai lava lou sausaunoa

 

Fia ‘olo ane le fua ma le pa’o

Fai fai malie o le pati ma le po

Se’i fa’asolo faiva ua saunia mo lenei aso

 

Soa lautele lava le fa’atafiti

Taualuga le so’ona tafitifiti

E ute o fiafiaga Fa’aSamoa moni lava ua sili

 

Fai mamalu le faiva

E sili i le silasila

Tau lau agava’a

I si ou sa’asa’a

"Afio Ane Loa" - Tree Vaifale

I have been contemplating whether to get back into writing/blogging again. 

I have so many half-written pieces gathering dust in my drafts from the past few years since I last pressed publish.

I left them unfinished because I didn't feel ready. But the past few weeks thoughts, conversations and answers to prayers have led me back here.

I feel the aualuma of women in my family, both in heaven and on earth.

I hear their whispered prayers fofo the fagu'u of reassurance into my skin.

I feel their warming presence la'ei my soul with their hand sewn resilience.

I hear the claps of fa'ataupati and their joyous cheers of fa'aumu usher confidence into my being.

I feel their love gather around me.

They cry for me to hear them. 

To live. To exist. To be. 

Taofia Pelesasa said "Remember that generations of our people fought for you to exist today. Use the life they fought for"

So I'm putting it out into the universe:

I want the generations of women before me to know that their uttered prayers have been heard, received, felt and lived. 

I want the untold stories buried in our hearts unearthed and brought to the surface

They inspire me so people know about us - about me, about them.

Happy Days

Sila

We're All Somebody's Side Kick

We are bursting through the barricades and

Reaching for the sun (we are warriors)

Yeah, that's what we've become (yeah, that's what we've become)

I won't let them break me down to dust

I know that there's a place for us

For we are glorious

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down

I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out

I am brave, I am bruised

I am who I'm meant to be, this is me

Look out 'cause here I come

And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

I'm not scared to be seen

I make no apologies

This is me

"This is Me" - Keala Settle

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEJd2RyGm8Q

A few years ago I was randomly asked to describe myself using 3 fictional characters. I texted:

Nani (Lilo & Stitch) - Motherly and witty.

Nakoma (Pocahontas) - Voice of reason and loyal.

Nala (The Lion King) - Compassionate and full of sass.

I remember soon after scrolling through Facebook and noticed people doing the same exercise except they were commonly naming disney princesses, super heroes and main characters in TV shows/Movies. 

Then it dawned on me: all the characters I named were sidekicks.

A lot of times in life I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of being a supporting character and not the protagonist in a story. Always a side kick and never the hero.

One of my critiques for the film "The Greatest Showman" (which I loooove!!!) is that they could have made so much more out of the character development for the bearded lady Lettie Lutz played by Keala Settle #PasifikaMovement.

"This is Me" would have made a deeper impact if we witnessed a few more scenes of Lettie's life prior to her singing the hell outta that beautiful song. 

All we needed was a 2 minute montage, a collection of her lifes glimpses juxtaposed by the magnificence that she has now epiphanised herself to be.

So on behalf of all my fellow side kicking Lettie Lutz's of the world, here's my two minute montage:

When I was kid I stood on a brick wall in the middle of the Onehunga street mall, spread my arms out wide and jumped with the utmost confidence that I would fly as I screamed "SUPERMAN". I flew straight onto my face and have a scar in the middle of my bottom lip to prove it.

I hate yellow bananas.

Reading books is my thing – it’s my budget way to travel, my research O.G before google, my means of escape and a portal to help me understand the experiences of others.

I listen to music all the damn time

I have a tendency to yell ice cream mid-sentence of someone asking what my favourite food is, an uncontrollable inclination to move whenever I hear a beat, a thirst for awareness/ understanding, a next-level-embarrassing fear of heights, a suffocating hug and a weird habit of licking the flavour off of chips before downing them.

I love inspiration received in moments of quiet reflection. Whether it be on a crowded train or in the silence of my room - the dots start to connect, my heart and mind synchronise, and light slowly pours into my being.

My dad gee'd me up one time at a shopping mall beat boxing competition. I walked onto the stage and literally spit pfft pfft pfft into the mic. I went home feeling chuffed as hell with a walkman hot in my pocket from pity winning first place.

Random solemn moments reaffirming to me time and time again that there is a God. 

He is real. 

He knows me. 

Out of all the titles he is known to be from The Almighty to Allah - to me he is Father.

I finally conquered my fear and learnt to ride a two wheel bicycle at the tender age of 22yrs old - this is cover-my-face-shake-my-head-worthy.

I believe crying and laughing are the best forms of medicine - I regularly self-medicate and alternate between the two.

Laughing is my favourite thing to do. 

I feel like God put this amazing little mechanism called laughter somewhere between my heart and my throat. Disclaimer: I have no idea if that is biologically correct, but it feels like it is.

Jarod Kintz said laughter is the sound of the soul dancing. If that’s the case, then my soul has an Everest sized mountain of worn out dance shoes and a comparable sized pile yet to be used.

I made my sisters lives a living hell growing up. 

I read somewhere that people usually hurt others in an attempt to feel better. I projected my damaged soul, insecurities and feelings of worthlessness onto them. I still cry out of regret when I reflect on how mean spirited and hurtful I was.

There’s something liberating about dancing like a madman in the rain.

My dysfunctional family give me life with their myriad of personalities, inside jokes, mocks of death, struggle street stories, life lessons, memories, drama and love. My heartstrings are forever tethered to theirs regardless of where we are literally and figuratively in life.

I'm opinionated and have no problem voicing my sentiments - fist bump to the Hermione Grangers of the world.

When I was 13yrs old my mum was teaching an early morning class called seminary for our church. 

There was about 30 of us in the class and we all ranged between the ages of 13-18yrs old.

Because there were so many of us mum seated us in rows according to age, I was seated smack bang in the middle of the front row. 

My beautiful mum has hearing issues so the kids would regularly tease her under their breath and laugh because she couldn't hear them. 

I would burn with embarrassment, pretend I couldn't hear and act like nothing happened.

One morning the eldest kid in class seated in the back row started mocking mum. The whole room erupted in laughter. 

I summoned a small ounce of courage, shakily got up from my seat, turned around, pointed my finger at him and yelled:

"SHUT UP AND STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MUM!"

The room went dead silent

*SLAP*

I was stunned...mum slapped the shiieee outta me.

I immediately sat down, placed my forehead on the table, covered my head with my arms and cried. 

I wept out of embarrassment and prayed a sinkhole would crack open the floor and swallow me hole. 

After a few minutes of crying I took comfort in this one truth: I finally defended the person I love most in the world and that was all that mattered.

I believe that the majority of my talents are obscure or hidden, roasting is probably at the top of the list #SavageLifeChoseMe

*aaaand scene*

In a world full of people clamouring to be Beyonce, we seem to give side eye glances to the Kellys and Michelles of the world. 

But Beyonce would not be Beyonce without the harmonious friendship of Kelly and Michelle.

Lilo would have been a ward of the state if her older sister Nani didn't fight to love her regardless of parental loss, financial struggle and childlike shenanigans.

Nakoma's voice of reason helped comfort and ground the free-spirited Pocahontas.

Simba would still be walking around the wopwops suffocating on Pumba's farts if Nala didn't breathe love into him and remind him of his worth as a son of a king.

A few days ago I was having a talk with my sister and she said that sometimes we get so caught up with trying to find ourselves that we forget we can create ourselves.

In the pursuit of fulfilling the measure of our creation we simultaneously fill the measure of our creation. 

We all have good and bad experiences in our lives. However, the choice lies with us in how  we use it to its full effect - whether for the betterment or detriment of our being. 

When we consciously choose to use these for our gain, we invest the good and actively renovate the bad into a lesson and building block for character.

There is nothing wrong with being a side kick but there is if you're a side hoe. 

At the end of the day, we're all supporting characters in another's story and have supporting characters in our own.

Just don't be satisfied standing in the shadows when it comes to the story of YOUR life.

Position yourself centre-stage.

Signal for the curtains of obscurity to draw open.

Step forward to let the spotlight shine on you.

Spread your arms wide and make your debut.

Happy Days

Sila

What do you see?

It's in the eyes of the children

As they leave for the very first time

And it's in the heart of a soldier

As he takes a bullet on the frontline

It's in the face of a mother

As she takes the force of the blow

And its in the hands of the father, yeah

As he works his fingers to the bone, yeah

It's in the soul of a city

What it does after it crumbles and burns

And it's in the blood of a hero

To know where he goes he may never return

If you could be anywhere that you wanted to be

With anyone that you wanted to be with

Doing anything that you wanted to do

What would it be and who would it be with you

Time flies but you're the pilot

It moves real fast but you're the driver

You may crash and burn sometimes

This is why we do it

This is worth the pain

This is why we fall down

And get back up again

This is where the heart lies

This is from above

Love is this, this is love

Love is why we do it

Love is worth the pain

Love is why we fall down

And get back up again

Love is where the heart lies

Love is from above

Love is this, this is love

"This = Love" - The Script
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGa-XsW0lms

I tried to go op-shopping in central Parramatta a few weeks ago. I stepped into a store but was pulled back by a man whispering "Don't go inside," 

I asked why and he replied that there was a crazy lady in the store and the cops were on their way.

I realized he was an employee so I stepped back outside, leaned my back against the wall and turned up the volume in my earphones. I didn't need to be there, but for some reason I felt compelled to stick around. The man paced up and down the pavement waiting for the police to arrive. I unplugged one of the earphones and went quiet as I listened to the lady screaming every cuss word under the sun. 

A female employee walked out the store.

"Are you okay?" I asked. 

"I'm fine" she replied with a quiet smile on her lips, she gestured towards the lady inside.

"But I don't think she is, poor thing has barricaded herself in a corner." 

Shaking her head while looking down at the pavement she continued.

"Looks like she's had a rough morning."

"Sounds like she's had a tough life," I replied and we both nodded in agreement.

In the thirty minutes it took for a convoy of four police cars and an ambulance to arrive, the two employees and I chatted, laughed and ate ice cream together.

A small crowd gathered curious to the cause of the commotion. I noticed each time someone asked the male employee what was going on, he would reply a crazy woman is going off her head inside the store. But each time someone asked the female employee what was going on, she would sympathise and reply that the lady inside seems to be having a rough morning.

One situation. Two different perspectives. My question is - what would you see?

In the Bible the story of Job is recounted, a man who suffered every degree of loss. The shadows of misfortune seemed to follow him. Inspite of these heartbreaking experiences, he refused to treat others harshly or deny God. Job consciously chose to humanize people and refused to define them by their actions. I mulled over why he was this way and came to this conclusion.

Job knew who he was to God and who God was to him -  and no amount of persuasion or misfortune could change that. He viewed people with love.

I walked away from the store after everything was sorted and couldn't help but ask myself:
How do I view people? What do I see?

Happy Days
Sila