Mary Afemata is one of many New Zealand-born Samoans learning gagana Samoa. Photo / Julie Zhu
Mary Afemata is a news journalist with the Te Rito journalism project.
OPINION
It’s Samoan Language Week in Aotearoa but for me, every week is Samoan language week.
English is my first language and growing up, while my parents spoke Samoan to me at home, I would always reply in English. I can understand some Samoan but I don’t speak it.
As the youngest in my family, I’d ask my siblings: ‘What are they saying’? I’d feel like an egg because I wasn’t confident in my mother tongue.
There was the realisation that I couldn’t fully appreciate cultural family events, because when something is translated into English, it’s the diluted version.
Not understanding my mother tongue made me feel deprived and like I was missing out. There were awkward situations when someone would speak Samoan to me and I’d have to say: ‘Sorry, I can’t speak Samoan’.
So for the past year, I’ve been taking Samoan language classes.
It’s been difficult, but I ask myself constantly: ‘Why am I doing this’? Other than a goal to converse with my father fluently and naturally, I’d love to tap into our indigenous knowledge and understand why we do things the way we do as Samoans.
Language helps shape the culture and people and gives an insight into their mindset. I’m Samoan but feel I have aspects of Western thinking as a New Zealand-born Samoan.
Language is a barrier for some, so when you can speak to an elder in their mother tongue, their guard automatically drops. A whole person’s demeanour changes when you can speak their language.
Samoans generally use conversational language and a more respectful dialect. It’s a skill to switch between the two and I’m slowly building my confidence and cultural understanding of how to use that.
Samoans like to humble themselves and uplift others and it can be seen in our language. For example, the respectful word for name is suafa. I can use suafa when asking others for their name. But I cannot use suafa when referring to myself and I would use the other word for name - igoa.
In the Samoan way, respect is given and not applied to oneself.
Something I found confusing is how one word can mean many things. Manaia means good. It also means beautiful or nice. How you say a particular word can also change its meaning entirely.
Learning another language is hard and I feel way out of my comfort zone. However, I know it’s a safe space to learn and make mistakes freely without judgment or ridicule.
I’m trying to build the courage to use gagana Samoa outside the classroom but am still hesitant. What if I look stupid and embarrass myself?
I try to ease my fears with the reminder that whenever starting something new, you must be prepared to be bad at it before you master it.
I am a big fan of metaphors, similies and words. I especially enjoy listening to skilled orators manipulate words to paint imagery or convey a feeling.
I listen to Samoan songs and try to understand the lyrics, especially the old-school ballads my parents listened to, including RSA Band, The Five Stars and Tiama’a.
I’m committed to learning my mother tongue because I know there is a world of indigenous knowledge that I am missing out on.
Being Samoan is more than waving the Samoan flag and supporting the Toa Samoa, more than our delicious cuisine and traditional attire.
It’s in how we carry ourselves and how we serve our family and village. My father taught me to “love the people” and this resonates with the idea of service through leadership.
I’m continuously making efforts to learn my Samoan language and sustain the knowledge I learn outside of my one-year course. There are moments in class when we learn things that I’ve experienced in my life as a Samoan.
I get excited and can’t wait to go home to tell my dad and siblings what I learned. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to learn my language even if I’m starting late as an adult.
When words fail me, I can’t articulate the feeling and gratitude when I think of my Samoan father.
In understanding my language, I know I’ll feel secure in my identity. I’ll be able to converse and connect better with my family and my community - and most importantly for me, speaking with my dad, who is the greatest Samoan historian and orator I know.
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