I guess I’m a bit slow on the Vaniah bandwagon, primarily because - like most Samoan Music, you recognise the song and have no idea who is singing - alot of the old(er) Samoan Music, in my opinion - all sounded so damn similar.

I’m not sure if its Vaniah’s voice, or his blend of polynesian instrument’s - languages or tempo’s, but to me - there is a definate “Vaniah Vibe”.  A special vibe that is way off the traditional yet deeply traditional at the same time (I’m not high, I promise)

Like a soul searcher looking for a religion, “Toa” got me interested and I wanted to learn more and it was “Liliu Le Taimi” / “E le galo oe” that gave my heart the permission to be baptised in Fan-dom of Vaniah & his beautiful sister Jewel.

Both being half-caste Samoan, together they produce a sound and a perspective of Samoan life that is sadly missing from the current “pop” - while Zipso, Mr Tee, 685 boys (full Samoans) are singing about broken cars, underage girls and partying the apia-gangster life, Vaniah & Jewel are inspiring the warrior’s of Samoan sport, warriors of Samoan Scholars (dedicating a song to school children) and the Warrior within all of us.

Vaniah is effortlessly bringing a voice of reality back to  Samoan Lyricism, without degrading the situation and making it acceptable, “ina ua ou matua na ou, liuliu atu i le pia, E ui lava ina e le fiafia, ae sa e le tuulafoaia”. Bravely scoping the Alcoholism issue, it shakes up a sense of reality - for a lyric to be sung so beautifully, yet so ugly at the same time.

Vaniah will enforce what has always been a part of “us”, and that is for us to never forget our roots.

If your a bit slow like me, I suggest you have a listen to Vaniah, embrace our culture, and find the Toa within yourself.

Because Vaniah Said So.

John O’Grady muses his readers by claiming that this story is written by one Samoan, Ioane Papatiso, “as told by himself”.  Its not certain if it is in fact written by Ioane (its True) or if its just a writing device used by O’Grady. Either way, I could not stop laughing, because as much as I believe our people have changed (Samoans) there is still so much that is so TRUE and timeless.  I smiled reading through it. Three read through’s later. I knew I was in love with this story.

“No kava for Johnny” is the story of Ioane, wanting to become worthy enough to become a Matai in his village and even more, worthy enough to take a role in the Ava Ceremony (reffered to in the book as Kava Ceremony) whether there’s a difference, I’m not quite sure, but hey, I thought it was called Ava, and the ‘Kava’ is more of a Fijian thing.

His journey towards worthiness is marked by various mishaps and misfortunes, told in such a simplistic and honest way, I somewhat felt like I was Ioane, his view of the Samoan Culture and his constant mind debates over the way of life, and the “new” way of life and Boss (represented by the Chemist, who takes him in and gives him a job) versus, the Village Matai - who would send notes via the Samoan public bus system for money.

Ioane has an innocent heart, his basic grasp of the english language provides some brutally harsh lines, describing his mother as “She is still a very nice lady, but she does not look nice.”

Ioane’s personal account of his journey, describing his childhood in the village and the consequences of being naughty, how he is sent to live in the city of Apia, and how he strives to be successful, shows how mayhem just seems to be attracted to him, where-ever or how-ever successful he becomes.

If you have no idea of what it is like living in Samoa, this light reading will provide you with the most basic understanding of how a Samoan would view a Palagi (Caucasion) and on a deeper level, explore the beauty and the ugliness of the Samoan culture.

This book was written in 1966, and for a Samoan who has only visited Samoa within the last couple of years, the setting of the Government Building, the Market and the National Bank (and personally the R.S.A Nightclub) all make a feature in this novel.  Who would have thought that in our little city, such a big adventure had taken place!

O’Grady writes with a passion and love for Samoa, for all that makes it great, physically, socially and culturally - if you don’t feel like visiting Samoa and going on your own little Johnny adventure after reading this, then your crazy.

In reflection to his own personal journey, and much later on in the narrative, Johnny explores and shares why he has the ambition that he carries, and it was at this point, that I felt more Samoan, and more part of Johnny than any other character of any story, on this planet.

“My Ambition has always been to obtain honour and respect.  To obtain these it is neccessary to work diligently and without complaint, obeying the instructions of superiors so that the people will say “This one is good.  He works hard and sweats heavily.  His thought is always for his family.  He does not complain.  He is never unwilling, even if he is sick.  He has learned all the things that a young man should know.  He speaks softly and walks lightly.  He is properly respectful to all who are young & wise.  The eyes of the girls are shy when they talk to him.  He has courage.  When the sea is heavy on the reef and no man fishes, he takes his canoe and goes out singing and brings back many fish.  He walks alone in the bush and fears no aitu.  He bears himself with dignity in the councils of the young, speaking little & listening much.  When he speaks his words are heard.  One day he will be offered a title, and many will flock to serve him.  Even we ourselves”

It didnt feel different

to the million memories before that

We just didn’t know what to say, and thought my mom deserved it

and thats the mentality that we were forced to have.

My mom did everything in my family, growing up in Ranui, my dad worked different factories and my mom worked for bit too, until my dad got jeolous because my mom worked with other men.

He was insecure, but we were told by aunties, uncles etc, that no, your dad was just a jeolous old fashioned Samoan man.

Sometimes, my dad would just snap and punch my mom while were driving to school, theres 6 kids, and I am the eldest.   I got to see more than my brothers and sisters, and for that I’m greatful.

He would work from Monday to Friday in his factory job, and when he finished up on Friday, we had to get ready for the swearing and the part 2 of my dad’s personality.

He gathered us around and asked each one of us, about why we didn’t do something - nothing big or important, but I got punched in the face for not doing the dishes on Tuesday night at 8:30pm - yeah. it was calculated.  Sometimes I thought, wow - he must memorize time and dates during the week to have a reason to give us a hiding.

I was a good kid, I did all my school work and I remembered all my lines at white sunday and yet, it was somewhat forced, because if I didn’t then, I’d know what my dad memorized in his “When I get drunk list”.

When we moved to Australia for a “better life” things didn’t really change, he had cut down on drinking, and so there were times when we had happy memories, but the memory of NZ was still fresh for me, I acted and played the fake happy family, until the next time I got a hiding.

My mom got it the worst, and it’s the reason why I still hate my dad til this day. Picking up your mothers hair that had been ripped out, or wiping your mothers blood off the wall, and being scared to do so just in case it was another reason to get a hiding.

They weren’t your usual tap on the head type of hidings, we got the I.C.U type, I had spent most of my 7th and 8th year of High School in the hospital, and even when I had a broken leg, that didn’t excuse me from getting a hiding.

Remember, this was just Friday & Saturday.

The other days, we just didn’t see him - and they were my favourite days of the week.

I asked my mom a few times, why she still stayed with him, and she told me it was because of us, it was because on my brothers and sisters and that she didn’t want us raised with no father.

Its a pity, because the poor excuse of a father that we did get, didn’t really do anything to be excited about or to strive to become.

My mom was then diagnosed with cancer in 2000, she had just finished teaching me how to drive, because my dad didn’t want to.  She had been to every single school function, school interview, school play, school anything - without my father, and during this time while she had medical appointments, my father was nowhere to be found.  He thought it was a joke. He thought that doctor’s can fix everything from broken bones, busted lips, to cancer.

My mom’s second round of treatments and chemo, she had relied on her kids to drive her to the hospital, and I did it with no hesistation, my father, still stayed the same.  After my mother had both her left and right breast surgically removed, she had to wear the protective wrapping and bandages as her skin healed, and when my dad hit my mom during that time.  Thats when I decided, I had no father.

I did something that I’m not proud of, and will never regret.  I gave my father a hiding - for my brothers and sisters, for my mother and for myself.

His sisters (my Aunties) on my dad side have since been saying that I’m going to hell because I should never hit my parents.

But thats O.k, because my biological father, was just that - he just donated the sperm, my real father, was my mom.. she did everything.

I have forgiven my father, and I really don’t care if he doesn’t forgive me (I don’t see him anymore and if I did, I wouldn’t hesistate to smash him again if he ever pissed me off)

I miss my mom, now that she’s gone.  Her strength and courage to do everything for us (her children) will be remembered, the life that we had wasn’t a Brady Bunch, but my dad did teach us one thing.

Never Strive to be like your father.

Its not as Kinky as I thought it was,

Although, Sex in the Alleyway never really was

on my to-do list.

If your my family, STOP READING. (right now, I warned you)

No, Just kidding (see, I told you to stop reading, but there you are STILL reading)

Down in the Alleyway was where my mate Derek took me, he told me not to worry because he’s been here a few more times than me, and in the back of my mind I couldn’t stop but think about what that actually meant.

I had met Derek about 6 months ago at my friends Rugby party, they were celebrating the loss, who does    that? well, they did, and it was one of the best parties I had ever been to.

I clicked with Derek straight away, and we talked for ages about how japanese art and samoan art were special in thier own way and how Frida Kahlo became a slut after her movie came out, well - not for us, but the view of how she was portrayed, we talked Art, Music and Sex while the music played, drunk nigga’s falling over the place and in between, we smoked a few joints together and laughed at how crap we were at smoking weed - it was both our first time (but we both shrugged and acted like we were pro’s) thats when I knew, he was cool - and I wanted to be just like him.

And then I realised, he was just like me. He texted me the next day, I forgot that I had given him my number for directions earlier (his cousin had rung me from her phone in how to get to the party) and I hadn’t even clicked when the number came up.

“Thanks for last night, Your one cool guy, Can I be just like you?”

Ok, I know, wierd right?  I thought, heyyyy hang on, whats going on with this? *cracks up* and then the next text was just cooler..

“I’m gonna come pick you up, I have something to show you”

So we made the plan, I gave him my address and I was excited, because @ the party he kept talking about this Waterfall. At first I though, hmm, waterfall in the middle of Melbourne? but he was so sure about it, and his description was in so much detail that it had to be true.

And when I saw it. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

10 minutes out of Melbourne City, in a not so up-market suburb, there lays a river that goes from Melbourne Central out North towards the Northern Suburbs, and it was here, that I fell in love.

I fell in love with this new and dreamy new location & I thanked Derek for showing it to me.

Derek then explained a little bit about how his Mom and Dad met, His mom was Spanish and his Dad Samoan (Derek’s an Army Brat) and then I thought, this GUY is even COOLER than I thought. Extra points for Derek. haha..

So then on this particular night, we were out drinking, we had become pretty close friends, and after 4 months, we confided in each other, and I trusted him.

He led me up this Alleyway, in Melbourne CBD - 10 minutes from Flinders Street Train Station.

And at the end of the Alleyway, he had drawn my face with Chalk, all over the wall, and I had never recieved a better birthday present in my life. It was Amazing!

Oh and no, there was no sex, in the alleyway.