Last summer, I wrote about ‘Stepping into the Ocean’. In week one of my research, I felt as if I was drowning amongst a bombardment of waves that came with each paper I read – waves of knowledge that tumbled me about in confusion before merging back in with the endless waters of researching a culture I was unfamiliar with. This also came with all sorts of ethical worries of misrepresenting culture and simply not having the authority or experience to be writing about Pacific storytelling. In that first blog post, I decided to “pick a course and see where the currents take me”.
With that salt in my system, I have travelled to Samoa for my LiA this summer. As I write this, I am quite literally in the heart of the Pacific Ocean – the ‘sacred centre’, as the name ‘Sāmoa’ translates. I am just a few minutes drive from the top of a mountain where the 3600 view paints a picture of how the ocean cradles this island on all sides. Despite this, I have noticed one key aspect of my experience this summer.
I am not drowning. In fact, I feel like a relatively confident swimmer.
This stark contrast has led me to an interesting question that I think encompasses a lot of the self-exploration and personal challenges that our LiA journeys are intended to spark. Why do I feel more at ease surrounded by different experiences, new people and an unfamiliar environment, as opposed to the comfort my university library? I think some of the answer lies in who I am. As a budding anthropologist and someone drawn to travel, I’m aware that I actively seek out conditions that introduce me to a completely different way of seeing the world. Indeed, my research last summer did just this. Yet I found that I could not comfortably develop a relationship with library-based work. To me, it seemed stagnant and hollow without people to bounce ideas off of and to build experience and on-the-ground knowledge with. This is still a challenge that I’m grateful to have been confronted with through the Laidlaw scholarship, as it has taught me just how strong my personal drive is to create impact, rather than send an intangible paper off into the vacuum of the internet. In contrast, I’ve welcomed each challenge in Samoa more readily, partly because they are challenges that I can more easily classify as ✨adventures✨, and partly because I can feel that they bring me closer to real people.
Real, personal connections; this is where the heart of my answer lies, because it is the heart of us as humans. Tiapapata Art Centre – my partner organisation and my base during my time here – is a living, breathing thing, bursting with stories and constant change. I’ve been here for 13 days, and on top of getting to know the local residents who keep this place running year-round, I have also witnessed two St Andrews professors and a Glaswegian filmmaker come and go, gone snorkelling with New Zealand-based ceramicist in her final days here, and ran land management errands with two Australian-based brothers who work in Aboriginal consultancy. It was during this last activity that I was told something that has come to define my time here already:
‘When working somewhere like Samoa, part of the work is being around people and forming friendships. Simply spending time with people – regardless of what they are doing – will get you a long way’.
The fact that I was having this conversation was already a testament to this attitude. Despite knowing these people for a relatively short amount of time, we have shared stories of connecting with the heritage and land of our own cultures, navigating privilege in a country that does so much to welcome you, and the inextricable relationship between community and self-identity. Through the simple sentences of ‘is there anything I can help with?’ and ‘can I tag along?’, I’ve found myself navigating unfamiliar territory with support and reciprocity. I have been finding confidence through being vulnerable enough to ask questions and lend my curiosity to someone else so we can develop new ideas together. I have been open about my relative inexperience so that I can be a welcoming conduit for those looking to pass on knowledge. I have admitted to not knowing people’s names and then been invited to family dinners and dance performances to get to know them even more.
Amongst an ocean of things I do not know, I offered to help paddle a little lifeboat called community and have been welcomed aboard by people who know these waters and are teaching me how to navigate alongside them.
So this is my advice to people who have yet to embark on their LiA, or who are out there and feeling isolated and/or overwhelmed. Of course, there is the HMS Laidlaw Network that is always here for help and connection. My friends among this network have been a part of helping me realise the importance of community, as each Facetime or message to a fellow scholar has revealed stories from across the world of being welcomed in and uplifted by their own host families/organisations.
Have faith in the universality of community connection – these little lifeboats exist everywhere. You only have to gain the confidence to open up a little of yourself, and you will be met with open hearts in return.