By Sheila Sarhangi
We drove for nearly an hour, swerving to avoid the morning’s rain puddles, hugging the coastline, then climbing over a steep mountain pass that connects the south and north shores of American Samoa.
We were invited to attend Sunday church services in a remote eastern village, just steps from a rocky shore with crashing, disordered waves. Stray dogs peered through the pale yellow and blue stained-glass windows. Inside, a baby in a red 49ers jersey was passed from a dozen hands, each tending to his needs—swooping his hair away from his eyes, wiping his nose, rocking him in hopes of a nap. So loved, he is truly being raised by the village. Voices rose in song, traveling up to the ceiling’s dark wood panels, and we felt the music in our bones. There is nothing like a symphony of Pacific voices. Later, I was told that the community relies on subsistence fishing and actively practices tapu in their nearshore waters—an ancient method of restricting the use of an area to allow for replenishment.
I spent eight days in January in American Samoa with five others, all of us who answered the call from local leaders there seeking support for their grassroots community efforts to oppose industry proposals to deep-sea mine and the push to remove existing protections that prohibit commercial fishing in the waters surrounding Muliava, the Rose Atoll Marine National Monument.
We experienced a glimpse of Faʻa Samoa, the traditional Samoan way of life, which emphasizes community, respect, and the importance of family. At one lunch, younger members of a family served food to the parents. One night, we drove past a pavilion packed with what seemed like the entire village gathered together for a game of Bingo. At a meeting, a one-year-old was a welcome participant alongside with her mom. These are just a few examples of how Faʻa Samoa was alive and well.
Throughout the week, in formal and informal meetings, at dinners, and at home gatherings, a unified message from many voices started to thread together. Folks shared that they fully understand that, as a U.S. territory, they must work with the federal government to ensure their communities have the economic resources they need, but it cannot come at the expense of today’s people or future generations.
Deep-sea mining is not the solution for a diversified economy; the technology does not exist, the risks are too great, and those who will profit are the companies that win leases—not the communities. And allowing industrial fishing to creep closer to the sacred and pristine waters of Muliava (Rose Atoll) is neither traditional or sustainable—and this precious place and its wildlife deserve better. That is why the atoll was granted the highest level of protection, extending 50 nautical miles from its shores, by a U.S. president 17 years ago.
This trip made something clear: Faʻa Samoa also means protecting the richness of their culture and their place.
The people we met throughout the trip are not just voices or storytellers—they are truthtellers, and we will continue to stand with them in support of their place, their values, and the future they want to see for their Amerika Samoa.
A big mahalo and faʻafetai to our PIH Coalition steering committee member Sabrina Suluai-Mahuka for her organizing and hospitality throughout the week.
Our crew in these photos: Sabrina Suluai-Mahuka (Finafinau), Solomon Kahoʻohalahala (PIH Coalition/Maui Nui Makai Network), Ekolu Lindsey (Maui Cultural Lands), Sheila Raha Sarhangi (PIH Coalition), Bobbi-Jo Dobush (Salt Horizon, LLC), Arlo Hemphill (Greenpeace USA), and Jackie Dragon (Greenpeace USA)–seen with members of Puipui Measina a Amerika Samoa, Governor Pulaʻaliʻi Nikolao Pula, and the beautiful people of American Samoa