Appendix 1

Pages 43 to 45.

Pages 43 to 45.

In the Samoan classification of relatives two principles, sex and age, are of the most primary importance. Relationship terms are never used as terms of address, a name or nickname being used even to father or mother. Relatives of the same age or within a year or two younger to five or ten years older are classified as of the speaker’s generation, and of the same sex or of the opposite sex. Thus a girl will call her sister, her aunt, her niece, and her female cousin who are nearly of the same age, uso, and a boy will do the same for his brother, uncle, nephew, or male cousin. For relationships between siblings of opposite sex there are two terms, tuafafine and tuagane, female relative of the same age group of a male, and male relative of the same age group of a female. (The term uso has no such subdivisions.)

In Samoa, sex and age are the two most important principles for classifying relatives. People never address relatives by relationship terms. They use names or nicknames, even for their father or mother. Relatives are grouped in the speaker’s generation if they are the same age, a year or two younger, or five to ten years older. They are also classified as being of the same sex as the speaker or of the opposite sex. Thus, a girl calls her sister, aunt, niece, and female cousin uso if they are nearly her age. A boy uses the same term for his brother, uncle, nephew, or male cousin who are nearly his age. For relationships between siblings of opposite sexes, there are two terms, tuafafine and tuagane. The first means a female relative in a male speaker’s age group. The second means a male relative in a female speaker’s age group. (The term uso has no such subdivisions.)

The next most important term is applied to younger relatives of either sex, the word tei. Whether a child is so classified by an older relative depends not so much on how many years younger the child may be, but rather on the amount of care that the elder has taken of it. So a girl will call a cousin two years younger than herself her tei, if she has lived near by, but an equally youthful cousin who has grown up in a distant village until both are grown will be called uso. It is notable that there is no term for elder relative. The terms uso, tufafine and tuagane all carry the feeling of contemporaneousness, and if it is necessary to specify seniority, a qualifying adjective must be used.

The next most important term, tei, refers to younger relatives of either sex. Whether an older relative calls a child this depends less on the age gap than on the care provided. So a girl will call a cousin two years younger than herself her tei if the cousin has lived nearby. But she will call an equally young cousin uso if the cousin grew up in a distant village until both reached adulthood. Notably, there is no term for an older relative. The terms uso, tufafine and tuagane all suggest people of about the same age. If someone needs to specify who is older, they must add a descriptive adjective.

Tamā, the term for father, is applied also to the matai of a household, to an uncle or older cousin with whose authority a younger person comes into frequent contact and also to a much older brother who in feeling is classed with the parent generation. Tinā is used only a little less loosely for the mother, aunts resident in the household, the wife of the matai and only very occasionally for an older sister.

Tamā, the word for father, also applies to the matai of a household. It also applies to an uncle or older cousin whose authority a younger person frequently encounters. A much older brother, seen as belonging to the parents’ generation, is also called by this term. Tinā is used only a little less broadly. It applies to the mother, aunts living in the household, and the wife of the matai. Only very occasionally does it apply to an older sister.

A distinction is also made in terminology between men’s terms and women’s terms for the children. A woman will say tama (modified by the addition of the suffixes tane and fafine, male and female) and a man will say atalii, son and afafine, daughter. Thus a woman will say, “Losa is my tama,” specifying her sex only when necessary. But Losa’s father will speak of Losa as his afafine. The same usage is followed in speaking to a man or to a woman or a child. All of these terms are further modified by the addition of the word, moni, real, when a blood sister or blood father or mother is meant. The elders of the household are called roughly matua, and a grandparent is usually referred to as the toa’ina, the “old man” or olamatua, “old woman,” adding an explanatory clause if necessary. All other relatives are described by the use of relative clauses, “the sister of the husband of the sister of my mother,” “the brother of the wife of my brother,” etc. There are no special terms for the in-law group.

Men and women also use different terms for children. A woman says tama, adding the suffixes tane and fafine for male and female. A man says atalii for son and afafine for daughter. Thus a woman will say, “Losa is my tama,” specifying Losa’s sex only when necessary. But Losa’s father will speak of Losa as his afafine. The same usage applies when speaking to a man or to a woman or a child. All these terms also take the word moni, meaning real, when referring to a blood sister, father, or mother. The household elders are called matua, roughly speaking. A grandparent is usually called toa’ina, the “old man,” or olamatua, “old woman,” with an explanation added if necessary. All other relatives are described through phrases such as “the sister of the husband of the sister of my mother,” “the brother of the wife of my brother,” etc. There are no special terms for in-laws.

Pages 60 to 65.

Pages 60 to 65.

For the sake of convenience the households were numbered in sequence from one end of each village to the other. The houses did not stretch in a straight line along the beach, but were located so unevenly that occasionally one house was directly behind another. A schematic linear representation will, however, be sufficient to show the effect of location in the formation of neighbourhood groups.

For convenience, the households were numbered in order from one end of each village to the other. The houses did not form a straight line along the beach. Instead, they were so unevenly placed that sometimes one house stood directly behind another. However, a simple diagram showing the houses in a line will be enough to show how location shaped neighbourhood groups.

(The name of the girl will be placed under the number of the household. Adolescent girls’ names in capitals, girls’ just reaching puberty in lower case and the pre-adolescent children in italics.)

(The girl’s name will appear under the household number. Adolescent girls’ names are in capital letters. Names of girls just reaching puberty are in lowercase, and names of pre-adolescent children are in italics.)

(Household 38 in Siufaga is adjacent to household 1 in Lumā. The two villages are geographically continuous but socially they are separate units.)

(Household 38 in Siufaga is next to household 1 in Lumā. The two villages meet geographically, but they are separate social units.)

[10] Girls to whom a change of residence made important differences, see Chap. XI, “The Girl in Conflict.”

[10] For girls whose lives changed significantly when they moved, see Chapter XI, “The Girl in Conflict.”

(Faleasao was separated from Lumā by a high cliff which jutted out into the sea and made it necessary to take an inland trail to get from one seaside village to the other. This was about a twenty-minute walk from Taū. Faleasao children were looked upon with much greater hostility and suspicion than that which the children of Lumā and Siufaga showed to each other. The pre-adolescent children from this village are not discussed by name and will be indicated by an x.)

(Faleasao was separated from Lumā by a high cliff that jutted out into the sea. So traveling between the two seaside villages required taking an inland trail. This was about a twenty-minute walk from Taū. Faleasao children were viewed with much greater hostility and suspicion than Lumā and Siufaga children showed toward one another. The children from Faleasao who had not yet reached adolescence are not discussed by name and will be marked with an x.)

Pages 123 to 125.

Please provide the text from pages 123 to 125 so I can modernize it.

The former of these expressions has a very different meaning from the latter although linguistically they represent optional syntactic forms, the second being literally, “I do not know,” while the first can best be rendered by the slang phrase, “Search me.” This “Search me” carries no implication of lack of actual knowledge or information about the subject in question but is merely an indication either of lack of interest or unwillingness to explain. That the Samoans feel this distinction very clearly is shown by the frequent use of both forms in the same sentence: Ta ilo ua lē iloa a’u. “Search me, I don’t know.”

The first expression means something very different from the second, although both are alternative grammatical forms. The second literally means, “I do not know,” while the first is best translated by the slang phrase, “Search me.” This “Search me” does not imply any actual lack of knowledge or information about the subject. It simply signals either a lack of interest or an unwillingness to explain. Samoans clearly recognize this distinction, as shown by their frequent use of both forms in the same sentence: Ta ilo ua lē iloa a’u. “Search me, I don’t know.”

Page 126.

Page 126.

(Literal translations from dictated texts)

(Word-for-word translations of dictated texts)

He is an untitled man. He works hard on the plantation. He is tall, thin and dark-skinned. He is not easily angered. He goes to work and comes again at night. He is a policeman. He does work for the government. He is not filled with unwillingness. He is attractive looking. He is not married.

He is a man without a title. He works hard on the plantation. He is tall, thin, and dark-skinned. He does not get angry easily. He goes to work and returns at night. He is a police officer. He works for the government. He is not unwilling to work. He is good-looking. He is not married.

She is an old woman. She is very old. She is weak. She is not able to work. She can only remain in the house. Her hair is black. She is fat. She has elephantiasis in one leg. She has no teeth. She is not irritable. She does not hate. She is clever at weaving mats, fishing baskets and food trays.

She is an old woman. She is very old. She is weak. She cannot work. She can only stay in the house. Her hair is black. She is fat. She has elephantiasis in one leg. She has no teeth. She is not irritable. She does not hate. She is skilled at weaving mats, fishing baskets, and food trays.

She is strong and able to work. She goes inland. She weeds and makes the oven and picks breadfruit and gathers paper mulberry bark. She is kind. She is of good conduct. She is clever at weaving baskets and mats and fine mats and food trays, and painting tapa cloth and scraping and pounding and pasting paper mulberry bark. She is short, black-haired and dark-skinned. She is fat. She is good. If any one passes by she is kindly disposed towards them and calls out, “Po’o fea ’e te maliu i ai?” (a most courteous way of asking, “Where are you going?”)

She is strong and able to work. She goes inland. She weeds, prepares the oven, picks breadfruit, and gathers paper mulberry bark. She is kind. She behaves well. She is skilled at weaving baskets, mats, fine mats, and food trays. She is also skilled at painting tapa cloth and scraping, pounding, and pasting paper mulberry bark. She is short, with black hair and dark skin. She is fat. She is good. If anyone passes by, she greets them kindly and calls out, “Po’o fea ’e te maliu i ai?” (a very courteous way of asking, “Where are you going?”)

She is fat. She has long hair. She is dark-skinned. She is blind in one eye. She is of good behaviour. She is clever at weeding taro and weaving floor mats and fine mats. She is short. She has borne children. There is a baby. She remains in the house on some days and on other days she goes inland. She also knows how to weave baskets.

She is fat. She has long hair. She has dark skin. She is blind in one eye. She behaves well. She is skilled at weeding taro and weaving floor mats and fine mats. She is short. She has given birth to children. There is a baby. Some days she stays in the house, and other days she goes inland. She also knows how to weave baskets.

He is a boy. His skin is dark. So is his hair. He goes to the bush to work. He works on the taro plantation. He likes every one. He is clever at weaving baskets. He sings in the choir of the young men on Sunday. He likes very much to consort with the girls. He was expelled from the pastor’s house.

He is a boy. His skin is dark. His hair is dark too. He goes to the bush to work. He works on the taro plantation. He likes everyone. He is good at weaving baskets. He sings in the young men’s choir on Sundays. He really enjoys spending time with the girls. He was kicked out of the pastor’s house.

Portrait of herself

Portrait of herself

I am a girl. I am short. I have long hair. I love my sisters and all the people. I know how to weave baskets and fishing baskets and how to prepare paper mulberry bark. I live in the house of the pastor.

I am a girl. I am short. I have long hair. I love my sisters and all the people. I know how to weave baskets and fishing baskets. I also know how to prepare paper mulberry bark. I live in the pastor’s house.

He is a man. He is strong. He goes inland and works upon the plantation of his relatives. He goes fishing. He goes to gather cocoanuts and breadfruit and cooking leaves and makes the oven. He is tall. He is dark-skinned. He is rather fat. His hair is short. He is clever at weaving baskets. He braids the palm leaf thatching mats for the house.¹¹ He is also clever at house-building. He is of good conduct and has a loving countenance.

He is a man. He is strong. He goes inland and works on his relatives’ plantation. He goes fishing. He gathers coconuts, breadfruit, and leaves for cooking, and prepares the oven. He is tall. He is dark-skinned. He is rather fat. His hair is short. He is skilled at weaving baskets. He braids palm leaves into mats for the house’s thatched roof.¹¹ He is also skilled at building houses. He behaves well and has a loving expression.

She is a woman. She can’t work hard enough (to suit herself). She is also clever at weaving baskets and fine mats and at bark cloth making. She also makes the ovens and clears away the rubbish around the house. She keeps her house in fine condition. She makes the fire. She smokes. She goes fishing and gets octopuses and tu’itu’i (sea eggs) and comes back and eats them raw. She is kind-hearted and of loving countenance. She is never angry. She also loves her children.

She is a woman. She can never work hard enough to satisfy herself. She is also skilled at weaving baskets and fine mats and making bark cloth. She also builds the ovens and clears away rubbish around the house. She keeps her house in excellent condition. She lights the fire. She smokes. She goes fishing and catches octopuses and tu’itu’i (sea urchins), then comes back and eats them raw. She is kind-hearted and has a loving expression. She is never angry. She also loves her children.

She is a woman. She has a son, ——— is his name. She is lazy. She is tall. She is thin. Her hair is long. She is clever at weaving baskets, making bark cloth and weaving fine mats. Her husband is dead. She does not laugh often. She stays in the house some days and other days she goes inland. She keeps everything clean. She lives well upon bananas. She has a loving face. She is not easily out of temper. She makes the oven.

She is a woman. She has a son named _____. She is lazy. She is tall. She is thin. Her hair is long. She is skilled at weaving baskets, making bark cloth, and weaving fine mats. Her husband is dead. She does not laugh often. Some days she stays in the house, and other days she goes inland. She keeps everything clean. She lives well on bananas. She has a loving face. She does not lose her temper easily. She prepares the oven.

She is the daughter of ———. She is a little girl about my age. She is also clever at weaving baskets and mats and fine mats and blinds and floor mats. She is good in school. She also goes to get leaves and breadfruit. She also goes fishing when the tide is out. She gets crabs and jelly fish. She is very loving. She does not eat up all her food if others ask her for it. She shows a loving face to all who come to her house. She also spreads food for all visitors.

She is the daughter of [name omitted]. She is a little girl about my age. She is also skilled at weaving baskets, mats, fine mats, blinds, and floor mats. She does well in school. She also gathers leaves and breadfruit. She also goes fishing at low tide. She catches crabs and jellyfish. She is very loving. She does not eat all her food if others ask her to share. She greets everyone who comes to her house with a loving expression. She also sets out food for all visitors.

Portrait of herself

Portrait of herself

I am clever at weaving mats and fine mats and baskets and blinds and floor mats. I go and carry water for all of my household to drink and for others also. I go and gather bananas and breadfruit and leaves and make the oven with my sisters. Then we (herself and her sisters) go fishing together and then it is night.

I am good at weaving mats, fine mats, baskets, blinds, and floor mats. I fetch water for everyone in my household to drink, and for others too. I gather bananas, breadfruit, and leaves, and make the oven with my sisters. Then we (my sisters and I) go fishing together, and then night falls.

Pages 132 to 133.

Pages 132 to 133.

The children of this age already show a very curious example of a phonetic self-consciousness in which they are almost as acute and discriminating as their elders. When the missionaries reduced the language to writing, there was no k in the language, the k positions in other Polynesian dialects being filled in Samoan either with a t or a glottal stop. Soon after the printing of the Bible, and the standardisation of Samoan spelling, greater contact with Tonga introduced the k into the spoken language of Savai’i and Upolu, displacing the t, but not replacing the glottal stop. Slowly this intrusive usage spread eastward over Samoa, the missionaries who controlled the schools and the printing press fighting a dogged and losing battle with the less musical k. To-day the t is the sound used in the speech of the educated and in the church, still conventionally retained in all spelling and used in speeches and on occasions demanding formality. The Manu’a children who had never been to the missionary boarding schools, used the k entirely. But they had heard the t in church and at school and were sufficiently conscious of the difference to rebuke me immediately if I slipped into the colloquial k, which was their only speech habit, uttering the t sound for perhaps the first time in their lives to illustrate the correct pronunciation from which I, who was ostensibly learning to speak correctly, must not deviate. Such an ability to disassociate the sound used from the sound heard is remarkable in such very young children and indeed remarkable in any person who is not linguistically sophisticated.

Children of this age already show a striking awareness of speech sounds. They are almost as sharp and precise in distinguishing sounds as their elders. When the missionaries first put the language into writing, it had no k. Where other Polynesian dialects used k, Samoan used either a t or a glottal stop. Soon after the Bible was printed and Samoan spelling was standardized, increased contact with Tonga brought a change. The k entered the spoken language of Savai’i and Upolu, replacing the t but not the glottal stop. This new usage slowly spread eastward across Samoa. The missionaries, who controlled the schools and the printing press, fought a stubborn, losing battle against the less musical k. Today, t is the sound used by educated people and in church. It is still kept by convention in all spelling and used in speeches and on occasions requiring formality. The Manu’a children who had never attended missionary boarding schools used k exclusively. But they had heard t in church and at school. They were aware enough of the difference to correct me immediately if I slipped into the everyday k. Yet this was the only sound they themselves habitually used. To demonstrate the correct pronunciation, they made the t sound, perhaps for the first time in their lives. I was supposedly learning to speak correctly, so I must not stray from that pronunciation. Such an ability to separate the sound they used from the sound they heard is remarkable in very young children. Indeed, it is remarkable in anyone without a sophisticated understanding of language.

Pages 161 to 163.

Pages 161 to 163.

During six months I saw six girls leave the pastor’s establishment for several reasons: Tasi, because her mother was ill and she, that rare phenomenon, the eldest in a biological household, was needed at home; Tua, because she had come out lowest in the missionaries’ annual examination which her mother attributed to favouritism on the part of the pastor; Luna, because her stepmother, whom she disliked, left her father and thus made her home more attractive and because under the influence of a promiscuous older cousin she began to tire of the society of younger girls and take an interest in love affairs; Lita, because her father ordered her home, because with the permission of the pastor, but without consulting her family, she went off for a three weeks’ visit in another island. Going home for Lita involved residence in the far end of the other village, necessitating a complete change of friends. The novelty of the new group and new interests kept her from in any way chafing at the change. Sala, a stupid idle girl, had eloped from the household of the pastor.

Over six months, I saw six girls leave the pastor’s household for various reasons. Tasi left because her mother was ill and she was needed at home. She was that rare case, the eldest child in a household of biological relatives. Tua left because she had scored lowest on the missionaries’ annual examination. Her mother blamed her low score on the pastor’s favoritism. Luna left because her stepmother, whom she disliked, had left her father, making home more attractive. Also, under the influence of an older cousin who had many sexual partners, Luna grew tired of younger girls’ company. She began to take an interest in love affairs. Lita left because her father ordered her home. She had gone to visit another island for three weeks, with the pastor’s permission but without consulting her family. For Lita, going home meant living at the far end of the other village and completely changing her friends. The new group and new interests were enough to keep her from feeling at all frustrated by the change. Sala, a stupid, lazy girl, had eloped from the pastor’s household.