Following your heart

Today is the first visit to the South Coast. I travel with Mats and a volunteer from SUNGO. The plan is to visit three resorts that have been wiped out and shoot interviews for Mats series. My agenda is to also meet with the brother (from a couple of days ago) who invited me to camp with them and help document stories of children. I am also hoping to make connections with locals and obtain invitations to return another time, on my own, to stay overnight.

The scenery is astounding. We drive along the north coast, which is unaffected by the tsunami. Everything here looks as I remember it - plus some new developments...but not much. After a while we curve inland to cross at Le Mafa Pass. This road crosses the island. Lush green mountains jab up, with jagged edges that cut into the sky like a razor's edge.

As Mats drives, he wonders what my purpose is here. I repeat to him the idea about helping local people recover from the tsunami. He wants to know about my own project. I tell him I want to tell an inspiring story. He encourages me to think more specifically about how this might serve a higher purpose. I am not certain where this conversation is going, but consider that to be a good thing. Mats doesn't really know either, but we agree to keep this question open in our minds today as we talk to the people who have lost family members and significant property.

The first stop is a small resort, nestled in a little nook of a cove. It's a steep drive in. We park at the top of the hill, by the sign that says "Keep out - this means you." The owners are Australian. On one side of the cove, there's a building perched high up on some rocks. It's not quite level any more. You know that look when you put a pizza slice on a paper plate and you have to eat the hanging off bit before things start sliding off? That's how this place looks, only the hangy-off bit is the front deck.

There's another structure down by the water - not sure what it was before, but now, a crumpled, folded corrugated roof is draped over the remains of...something. At the water's edge of the property it just kind of drops off where the beach used to be. While doing the interview the owners mention something about a restaurant. One of them points over to the right. I'm not seeing it. He points out a step. It takes me a moment to register it...but that's all there is...a small set of cement steps next to a cliff wall, then...water. This is where the pearl of the resort used to be. The restaurant used to be a cantilevered building next to the cliff wall, hanging over the water.

It's simply gone.

During the interview, the sky opens up and rain teems down. The owners a totally unfazed - it's just normal in a way, so we continue. They are committed to rebuilding asap. The tsunami is a setback to them...and in the face of it, they are planning to grow. In fact, the spot where we're shooting is the home of the future pool. The rains ends and we're done.

Next stop is a locally owned fale resort on the beach at Saleapaga. There are four new fales already constructed right on the beach and the restaurant/bar is scheduled to open by the weekend. Here's things are upbeat. It's a bit surreal, with devastation as the backdrop - most of the only other buildings that weren't wiped out are church buildings and a school. The theme of both interviews so far is "Initiative". The owners have received material, financial and emotional support from Samoa and overseas and they are moving ahead as much as possible, without waiting for aid or insurance payments. It's crucial for them to keep moving.

Progress is critical I think for business...but maybe more importantly...for spirit.
Next stop is my contact. As well pull in to their building I'm very excited. It's beautiful and I'm feeling more and more excited because I really like my contact and have a sense of optimism. Things ARE working out for my story too. This will be a perfect place to stay for a couple of nights to meet people in the area. It seems my patience is now being rewarded. We sit for a few moments with my contact and then another person joins us - the leader of the group.

The leader asks me about my reasons for being there. I explain my story. The response shakes me profoundly. Of course, they've had some time to think about my arrival - they say that they want a 50% stake (ownership) in my project in exchange for their co-operation. They firmly encourage me to think about it and then repeat the point. The meeting is over.

We politely excuse ourselves and move on the the next resort. I'm shocked. I'm not sure how I'm going to complete today's work - this is a hugh problem and my consumes my thoughts as we drive through the wreckage of the south coast. I feel devastated too. My thoughts are for myself in this moment - I am oblivious to the tragedy in front of me. Fortunately, Mats is able to listen to me with compassion. he encourages me to think that something better will happen. It's nice to hear, although I don't quite believe it yet. But it's enough to pull me out of the tailspin. Through this, at least I have the presence to roll the camera through the front windsheild. This was a huge bomb to drop and I'm now at a total loose end.

I've lost precious days, in the assumption that things were going to move ahead smoothly with this connection. There's simply no way I can work with this kind of deal. It's not like they said, "we love what you're doing and completely support your purpose. We love it so much that we're going to support it and fund 50% of your budget." No, it was, "If you want our help, it's going to cost you...AND we want control. The money will flow back into the communities you work with. We will ensure this."

We round a bend and swoop down to Lalomanu. This is the most famous beach in Samoa. It was tourist central. The charm of Samoa is the smallness of it. Even though the beach is gorgeous white sand and the reef is protected with abundant coral, there never was anything much resembling a "resort" in the sense of Acapulco or Miami or Koh Samui or Wasaga Beach or...you get the idea. The resorts here are fales. Huts. Right on the beach. The locals live on a shallow stretch of land between the beach and the cliffs behind, or up on the hills overlooking the beach. The people here would have had to run for these hills to get away. This is where many people lost their lives. The pictures the world saw on September 30 were from here. Lalomanu was most famous and was hit hardest. I've slept on this beach.

We drive to the far end and look for Mats contact, but they're nowhere to be found. This family lost 24 members. We wait for a while and nothing happens. I am coming out of my funk, so realize that I should perhaps be shooting. I ask Mats if it would be disrespectful to get some shots of the beach ahead of our hosts arrival. He replies that it's their property, and to go ahead. We step onto the white sand. Mats is holding my camera while I level the tripod, when a man with the contruction crew near the road quickly approaches us, yelling,

"Oi! What are YOU fellas DOING?"

Don't think I've mentioned this until now, but Mats is tall and Swedish. Two white guys holding camera equipment. Sensitive area. Recent devastating loss of local life. Upset local approaching. Others looking on closely. Bad combination. This totally goes against everything I stand for in my ethics. I know that misunderstandings are unavoidable, but this is a biggie. I'm not pleased to have caused it.

Mats is fluent in Samoan - he lives here and is married to a Samoan. Mats speaks to the man in Samoan. It takes a few moments for it to sink in...but eventually he understands. This man is the oldest brother of the family that owns the resort. He begins sharing his story. In the 80's he had a vision - a premonition that foretold the tsunami. It came encoded in abstract images, but the meaning was clear...a disaster loomed. His warnings were a source of frequent ridicule amongst the family.

The brother moved to New Zealand, but never stopped sharing his premonition. He carries a lot of weight on this one. 24 members gone. Although our conversation includes laughter, the sorrow is never far from the surface. He strongly argues that the money and the property are not what was important here. It was the people. He elaborates that the focus here had become about the former. He states that people need to follow their hearts. In Samoa, that means keeping things simple - respecting tradition

Eventually we connect with the people for the interview - I don't know it at the time, but they have both spent a significant amount of time in hospital recovering. Both are lucky to be alive. Emotions are raw. Expressing gratitude to those who came, those who sent money and those who sent messages of support were all acknowledged.

(When we were last a Lalomanu the Elvis 30 #1 hits cd was released. It contained the new song, "A Little Less Conversation". There used to be a restaurant with a small pool table right at the place I was just describing. We would shoot pool here - and because the song was new, it was pretty much played on a loop...all night long. It was one of the things I remember most from the time there. It's funny how the little things stick out at you. In any case, as I was reviewing this message on my borrowed computer (thanks Frank!), I was listening to Frank's playlist on random - that Elvis song is now playing. It's hard to ignore coincidences sometimes.)

Mats and I are invited up to the new property on the hill. The panoramic view of the beach, islands and ocean is astoundingly beautiful. This will be the location of the main resort from now on. There will also be fales on the beach, but it seems that these will mostly be for day use only.

On the drive back to Apia I share a revelation with Mats. I think I've nailed the purpose. The conversation on the beach really resonated with me: this is a film about following your heart.

Mats agrees.