Talofa lava! Samoa greets the All Blacks

The waiting was endless, the heat relentless and there were only so many pretend Richie McCaw interviews that could be endured before, finally, the real All Blacks skipper entered the arrivals hall at Faleolo International Airport to greet the hundreds who were waiting.

The noise lifted, decibel by decibel, as all 29 All Blacks filed through, the loudest cheer reserved for Sonny Bill Williams.

The All Blacks were really here. The All Blacks -- the team that no one, not anyone in Samoa anyway -- ever thought would pack their three tonnes of kit and more than double that in precious human cargo on to a plane to Apia and slug it out with the Manu.

Samoan warriors salute their nation's revered rugby guests after their jet landed at the airport last night. Pictures / Dean Purcell

The fans occupied every vantage point to catch a glimpse of their heroes, including (right) skipper Richie McCaw.

The anticipation is so often, sadly, the best bit about longed-for events. But not last night. Not this occasion -- the significance of which will only sink in over the next days and weeks ... months even.

No one in the whole of Samoa will forget the day the All Blacks came. They may not remember what happens on the field tomorrow. They may get hazy on the details of who played and who did what -- but not the night the All Blacks arrived, because the instant McCaw led his team through the arrivals hall, that was all anyone needed to see.

That was the moment Samoa had won. That was the moment it all became real. Samoa has given so much to rugby and yet the sport has so cruelly taken without giving anything in return. Change was so desperately needed -- and how fitting that in the thick of it was John Campbell, one of the pioneer media voices who did his bit -- in fact, more than his bit -- in bringing history, and sporting justice, to Samoa.

"It's nice to be here," said American Samoan-born Jerome Kaino, who had the look of a man who didn't want to acknowledge the emotion he was feeling for fear the floodgates might open. "It means a lot to the people and the country and it means a lot to us. We've got a lot of Samoan boys in the team. It [playing a test in Samoa] was always a dream when I first made the All Blacks.

"It's going to be awesome ... I'm feeling the heat already and it's what, 10 o'clock at night?"

He and the rest of the squad squeezed into two vans to begin what will have been a slow and colourful procession into Apia.

The road was lined with what could only be called, literally, homespun charm, the elders of one village keeping a candlelit vigil of their scarily good effigy of McCaw and Samoa captain Ofisa Treviranus.

Flags, bunting, painted coconut displays and one boat randomly adorned with what appeared to be a giant wooden Ma'a Nonu were the physical manifestation of the pride and enormity of this test.

No one was in bed. No child in Samoa will be going to school this morning wondering what happened. All of them will be able to say they were there, close enough to touch the buses, the night the All Blacks came.