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.

do you really know your friends?

and do you really have a choice?

and is it because of them, your life sucks?

“The righteous should choose his friends carefully,

For the way of the wicked leads them astray.” Proverbs 12:26

“He who walks with wise men will be wise,
But the companion of fools will be destroyed.” Proverbs 13:20

Wise words, from the big man above.  So how do we do this?! It’s an old quote - choose your friends wisely - and hearing it I automatically imagine it coming from either from an older relative, a protective parent or maybe even from a friend. But how do we put that in practice, today.

I’ll use my best friend as an example.  Her name (will remain anonymous, since there are a few that call me thier best friend, i do not want to hurt them) lmao!.  Via “vee-ya” I met this darling little “angel” at a night-club, drunk off my face I stumble towards her and ask her what she’s doing after the club (another fight broke out and the club has to close) - she says “nothing much, you don’t seem like your going anywhere in a flash” - *ouch* “..but here is my friend Sagie, we came together..” - cutting a long story short - we ended up partying the whole night and they both became instant friends after the insane amount of laughter and good vibes and just GOOD night out - I crashed at her city pad & we just kept in touch ever since.. 4 years later, we are the bestest of friends - I speak to her everyday, we talk deep and meaningful, she pulls me up on my bullshit, and I pull her up on hers - your typical best friend.

Now how do I know if she is not the friend for me?

I don’t think she’s a fool - she’s intelligent with a dopey edge.

I don’t think she’s a crimminal - she’s an aggresive with a innocent edge.

She’s one of the nicest people you’d meet - would talk to anybody and everybody. (She’s the noisy half of our relationship) While I remain, Cool, Calm & Collected - she is the out of mind psycho.

& for that I love her!

Sound good right?

But what about her dark side?! Is she not a good friend because she occassionally does the obviously wrong thing, the snide bitch comments, the evil plans and pyscho intentions (on her boyfriends) & involving me in her wicked schemes?

Or am I just being a good best friend?

ARGH!

I don’t think I could without Via - and even thinking about it makes me feel guilty that I even brought her name up as an example, but DO YOU KNOW YOUR FRIENDS?! and do you think they are good for you?

I knew she would keep it

even if she couldn’t, she found a way

and thats what I call love.

Breast Cancer took my momma in 2005,  on the 4th of December, my 20th Birthday.

For every birthday, my momma would buy my cake, some years it would be bigger, some years smaller, but every year, there was a cake.  

On my last birthday with her, I had to go buy my own - my momma was waiting at the hospital in her  bed because her neck and shoulders were swelling after the final stages of her 3rd set of Radio-theraphy - this time, the swelling had ballooned the area around her neck and it constricted her breathing - she could only whisper, and it was 5 days over the predicted “time left” given by the doctors. 

Driving to the hospital was the longest drive, I changed the gears, and thought of my mom struggling to teach me how to balance the accelerator with the clutch, I drove passed the shopping mall and thought of mom pushing her trolley every week (while we stayed at home because it wasn’t that cool to do grocery shopping), everything around me, reminded me of my mom, and the worst part, was knowing at the back of my mind, that we were about to lose her.

The breast cancer battle, took 6 years, throughout my high-school years, my mom was in and out of hospitals - our kitchen table had random test results, scans, pamphlets and various booklets of breast cancer, always varying, always present.  My mom never kept a secret from us, (6 kids, Me being the eldest) and she made sure we were all aware, no matter how harsh the news was - throughout the entire 6 years.  We were informed.  I thank my mom for that.  We were prepared.

Yet, no amount of preparation, could keep my heart from breaking, when instead of putting 20 candles on my cake, I had to put 21 because my mom was not going to be there, to see her eldest become a man.

I held my sisters hand, and she understood - she was a year younger (i love her so much) - and it would be the same for her (and even worse, my 4 other siblings)

For every birthday, For every Sunday Meal, For every school function, For every Nappy, For every day of the week that I would ask mom, “what day is it today”, For everytime she told me she loved me & for every Promise that she kept.  My mom will always be the girl in my heart.

My mom promised that she was going to be there for my 21st (3 years earlier) and she passed away on the 4th of December 12.02am.

I still find myself in stubborn moods where I havent accepted that she’s gone, and in truest sense, she hasn’t.  She’s in my heart and I feel her around me all the time.

When I blow out my cake this year, I will blow it out for her - My momma would be proud & she’ll be here - when all my brothers and sisters turn 21.

And to anyone who is dealing with Cancer at home, either yourself or a family member - I can only say, be informed, don’t let your loved one go through it alone - accompanying on a hospital visit, check up, anything - helps.

My sister rang me this morning and told me

my little brother has been locked up

in juvenile detention centre.

I don’t know how to begin explaining how much of a loser I feel, how bad of a brother I must be/been/am.

• My 15 year old brother who I used to fight over the playstation controls with
• My brother who asked me about how the moon changes shape
• My baby brother who I changed diapers and threw it over the fence
• My baby brother who always followed me around and I used to tell him to go find his own friends
• My baby brother, that I’ve failed.

The role of the older brother (me) is to protect my siblings, my two younger sisters and my three younger brothers. Dill is sitting in a fucking juvenile centre because I didn’t bother ringing and asking my sister how he is doing, because for some screwed up part in MY brain - i feel like everything is going to be alright.

Except for now. Except for feeling like I’ve let down a responsibility that is auto-matically given to me (not because of my culture, or because my parents told me to) but because of LOVE.

I LOVE my family & I’m cut at the fact that I can’t pin point the exact moment where I failed, because everything I’ve done has culminated in todays heart-breaking news.

-> its not the fact that he in juvenile detention (I mean, he is with his “friends” who all contributed to a rediculous fight at a shopping mall) but the fact that I LET HIM hang out with those kinda kids, its because I DIDNT give him the advice that was passed onto me, before my mother passed away. BECAUSE I KNOW my father is a drunk & I SHOULD of stepped up to the plate and become THE ONLY parent figure for him. BECAUSE I weak. BECAUSE I COULD’VE done something.

He may not be dead, he may not be hurt or injured - but I feel so low on the inside because of the FACT HE IS THERE, that we have neglected him until NOW.

I have been proud of the fact that I am able to help out my family in monetary ways, but if I could give all the money in the world, I would give it so I don’t feel so hurt right now.

I do NOT blame my brother.

I do NOT blame myself.

I do NOT blame my family or anyone else.

BUT I DO BLAME, everyone for not listening, for not picking up the signs, for not even thinking - hey, maybe we should tell our bro to focus on the important things..

teenagers (and trust me, I was one of the bad ones) are so easily ready to be lead onto different paths - and my role of being a guidance was a utter and complete failure.

I swear on my grave that I will NEVER want to feel this way EVER again, I am investing all the time I had for my friends and for my social life - to help get things on the right track for my baby brother.

because finally,

I’ve made a mistake,

that has effected someone other than me

To Dub, Re-dub, Tape & Record it,

the dreaded “taping over” your dads

Samoan music with Hip Hop..

I miss the days of Cassettes, fair enough to say that its still available, and I am a proud owner of a Sony Walkman, the Walkman of the AA size batteries only variety circa 1995.

With iPod’s and Mp3 music players dominating the portable music scene, I have to say, I’m sticking to my roots!

The real story? haha.. My best mate asked why I still carry around my Walkman that I’ve had since 9th grade, and besides the sentimental value being a present from my grandad (r.i.p i miss you) i guess it lies with my stubborn approach to upgrading to what everyone else is using; iPods, iRivers, Media Players on Phones, Mp3 & Mp4 etc..

I’m used to it! (the music fiend at age 13 listening to tracks from Metallica to Abba) and having to replace my batteries every 6 hours of listening time; adding a pair of headphones to the weekly shopping, spending hours making a “mix tape” & waiting by the radio to hit record on that new song “just released”.. it was a passion, it was my FUN.

My family couldn’t afford the luxuries of family vacations, nice cars, new clothes every month (and everything else) so the entertainment side for me, was my walkman; alongside Saved by the Bell & Wierd Science (I’m THAT kinda old)..

I think we ALL have a habit or a “thing” that we’ve always done.. since we were younger.

& I’m kinda glad that mine is the Walkman.

So when everyone watches me lugg out my music player (the size of a bible) I smile on the inside.. because I know, that once upon a time.. what I am doing, was “cool”.

think about it… do you have that?

I love my friends. And if I didn’t have them I don’t know who would listen

to my random bullcrap everyday, or laugh at jokes that I make up

or just be the dick that everyone aroundme has accepted…

Ok, point made. I love my friends.

I hate having to pretend that im not there to answer my mobile.  Doesn’t everyone have that feeling once in a while to just drop out of the rat-race (not in a suicidal kind of way) but just a break from everyone and everything around you.

• the train ride home - for me it was 30 minute journey, the sitting in a train carriage surrounded by random people in a tight confined space - and I loved it! After the boring 9 - 5 the stressful ups and downs and the dreaded *routine* that I hate with a passion, the insignificant 30 minutes a day, saved my LIFE! I had a chance to think (modern day meditation?) reflect on the days events, reflect on current situation, reflect on how much I hated my job, how much I ate that day, the stupid looking girl with the spiderman t-shirt and the wanna-be harajuku style hair (and wonder if she’s a lesbian) SEE! its those sort of mindless and seemingly boring brain “warm-down” / “calm-down” things that keep me going.. for the next god damn day!

SO. when I’m enjoying my little escape during the most important part of my day. DAMMIT. don’t expect me to pick up my phone!

because when I call you while your having sex, you don’t pick up

Now… if i put it that way…

My train ride, means alot more than I thought it meant!

*wierd*

Simply Savaii from Brisbane blessed its southern counterpart (the more “cooler” metropolis that is) Melbourne with its Energetic and Electric performance @ Glengala Hall in Sunshine.

I’m not usually a big “Social/Siva” fan - (after countless weekends of my childhood spent in Siva Carparks, thanks to my aunties and uncles lol) and not to bring the vibe of Melbourne down, but Melbourne hasn’t really seen the full “experience” of a great Social in a long time.

The Brisbane Act mixed it up with your predictable Samoan dance songs, the oldskool favourites and floor fillers “Angelina”, “Siva Samoa”, “Ten Guitars”, “Red Red Wine” & mixed Samoan covers of Ub40 & Bob Marley (cringe?) not really!! the female vocalist had an amazing angelic voice & the quality of the band was outstanding (I say that because I am the biggest hater of 5-chord wonder bands that Melbourne is sadly accustomed to).. apart from the classic siva songs, the Brisbane Act surprised the Melbourne crowd with its sexy mix up of “new” top 40 music and did a killer rendition of Sean Kingston & Natasha Bedingfield.

Now, before you read on further,

 I must add that I was not drunk

and very much the sober driver. hehe.

The crowd was mostly the autalavou (youth) and as crazy as it may seem to our Samoans in NZ, Samoa & other Australian capital Cities it was a Melbourne Record to have so much younger party-goers at a Samoan Function. (the Samoans here tend to stay clear from anything relevant to Samoan events) I’m not sure why, it must be a too-cool to be Samoan thing?

Yes! the food was great & if we base the success of the Siva on the food, then it would discredit the mass talent and pumping energy that Simply Savaii provided on the night.

I HAD THE BEST TIME!

and i’m not sure if it was nostalgia or if it was the pure fact that “Siva’s” in our culture is just one of those things that we do as a Samoan that it takes you a bit more closer to Samoa that actually being IN SAMOA.  

No fights, No Arguments - Well Behaved (yet drunk out of control) & plenty of comedic acts (the rolling on the floor drunks) and the barely there, barely dressed (leave it in the eighties mom’s & women).

Only bad thing about it? - is that they only visit Melbourne now and then - but I guess you can take that as a positive - absence makes the heart grow fonder, and we’ll be knocking on Community halls around Melbourne trying to get in.

To my Melbourne Youth, siva’s are cool lol.. its how some of our parents met & its a pre-requisite of being a city-Samoan.

Much Alofa & Happy Siva’s for everyone!