After several days of surfing our brians out, Mother Nature decided to give us a rest. The swell backed down, and instead of surfing all day I decided to expolore the local village of Salamumu.

Just a short walk down the dirt road from our resort lay the village of Salamumu. Populated with about a two hundred people, Salamumu fit the mould of a typical Samoan village. At the center of town stood the pride and joy of the villagers - the newly completed church. Simple and unpretentious by any standards, the church building was the culmination of the work of two young village men who agreed to the church's request that they travel to New Zealand to work and save money for the Salamumu community. They worked and saved for two years in New Zealand and then returned with enough money to build the church. At the center of town also stood the community fale, a simple hut-like structure with a concrete floor and wooden posts supporting a tin roof. This was the communal gathering place for the village.

As I approached the village I felt very self-conscious. With my huge new 300mm zoom lens hanging from my neck, I felt like a man from the future on a mission to bring back cultural the archives from the past. I wondered what the villagers must think of ultimate tourist geeks like me. Pondering this thought, I continued along the dirt road where three elderly ladies sat by the roadside drinking tea and weaving baskets with long green reed-like leaves. I said hello with a smile and a nod. A middle-aged woman who had been chatting with them said hello and immediately offered me a cup of tea. I was somewhat taken by surprise, and even though I didn't really feel like tea at midday in the hot tropical sun, I wanted to fit into their world somehow. I said yes, please. She quickly found an empty cup sitting nearby and filled it with the tea she had brewed not long ago. It was milky and sweet, and tasted quite good. She spoke english fairly well and we shared a quick conversation, but before I knew it she was off again, leaving me standing by the roadside sipping tea, sharing company with three elderly women. They didn't speak any english, so I just stood there smiling and sipping. Ten minutes later she returned. I thanked her for the tea and continued on my way. I had wanted to take a photo of the old women sitting by the roadside, but something held me back. It felt intrusive and discourteous, like I was stealing their lifestyle, their identity, thier culture, and stuffing it into my futuristic gaget only to later put it on display for my own benefit. I let the moment pass, camera dangling round my neck, and felt good about leaving that scene untainted.

The children were easier for me to photograph. Whereas several Samoan adults had asked me specifically not to photograph them, the kids were absolute hams and loved the spotlight the lens created for them. On one particularly beautiful afternoon I walked down to the shoreline in Salamumu and spotted two youngsters carrying a basket of coral, no doubt to be used for more landscaping at the resort. I took a photo and walked over closer to them for a close-up. As they struggled up the sandy incline of the beach, each carrying one side of the basket, they greeted me with big wide smiles. When they returned, free from the burden of the heavy basket, they ran together to the edge of the ocean and wrestled each other into the water. For ten minutes the laughed and played and grappled with each other, until their mother came along and asked them to finish their work, as she helped them carry the last of the baskets up from the beach.