Blog: Samoans trade coast for hills

For people who have lived their whole life by the water, chances are they've developed a special bond with it.

This is case for hundreds along the south-coast of Samoa. But as we visit the area 6 months after the tsunami, it's clear that bond is being seriously questioned.

It's hard not to find someone with a horror story about September the 29th. It seems almost everyone Ryan (our cameraman) and I meet, has been directly affected by those walls of water.

What came first was an 8.3 magnitude quake. Locals tell us there were only minutes between it and the tsunami. Since then, the haunting sounds of the warning sirens have been heard at least 3 times.

As we drive along the coast, we notice that the villages are no where near the former glory days. There are cleared blocks of land and signs that some houses are being built, but there's something missing - the people.

Earlier, Prime Minister Tuilaepa Aiono Sailele Malielegaoi had told us that many survivors are still deciding where to live. Do they rebuild down by the water? Or stay up in the mountains where they first fled?

What stands out along the coast line are two resorts in relatively good condition. They turn out to be the exception in these empty villages.

One manager says they're rebuilding down by the water, but will continue living up in the mountains. Down the road, the other manager tells us that despite losing 14 family members, he is standing by the beach.

It's home, he says.

In the village of Lepa, some people have a different view. A local girl named Karen says they can't keep running up the mountains every time they hear the sirens. Who can blame them?

In some extended families, there are elderly great grandparents to think about, and very young children.

The reverend at the village church tells us that he thought things “weren't right” when all the cats, dogs and pigs, began to race up to the mountains. But one suspects these people are not about to readjust their lives to revolve around the family pet.

These are just some of the stresses that come with living by the water. They say; it's too late - the trust has been broken, and they aren't going back.

Hundreds of feet above the coastline, the land might be safe but it carries its own set of unique problems. Getting there is an effort in itself.

We found ourselves following Foliga Mertzger, a local girl who lost 27 family members. She now lives in town with her husband, but regularly comes up the mountain to deliver food and water to her extended family.

We find that there are only two roads going up - they're both rough and covered in mud.

There are no shops, schools, or churches around, and forget about getting sick. A doctor is about an hour away.

But the landscape, while very undeveloped, is also very beautiful. Unlike Australia, which has major land issues for housing, Samoa seems to have got it right. Almost everyone has a block of land for their houses or fales (traditional Samoan house) and another block of rural land for planting crops.

There's none of this “sea change, tree change” business. Samoans already have both. The only problem is, these blocks of land have until now, been used as plantations, growing taros, pumpkins, corn and a few potatoes. The houses are yet to be built.

What we can see are blue tarpaulins - their temporary shelters - dotted across the fields.

We finally stop along the muddy road, escaping the chance to get bogged. It's technically the main pathway to Foliga's family, and meeting them turns out to be a humbling experience.

The family home is a thrown-together structure that slightly resembles a fale, on patch of dirt, covered by blue plastic. There are no walls, no sink, no toilet, no kitchen; but hundreds of flies, and a water tank.

At first it's hard to understand how they could go from the beach to this. If she had a choice, I ask her, would she start again down by the beach?

“For me? Hell no, nooo way! I will go down there to hang around during the daytime but I would never to think to build a house down there. That's it. Over it,” she says.

She even confesses to feeling squeamish about swimming in the water again. People died there, she says. It would be disrespectful.

She remembers how she had to bury cousin after cousin, and is grateful that her family are choosing to make a new life up on the hills. I look around and see the happy faces.

It's hard to argue with that.