Write a dialogue between two sisters who are diametrically opposed in their attitudes to life at home. Use “Everyday Use” as a starting point. 

I have decided to use this blog topic with a little twist: implementing my own cultural experiences as a Samoan. Back in high school, I had taken it upon myself to base one of my major projects on cultural tattoos and how they have been a hot topic of whether they are subject to cultural appropriation or cultural appreciation, and their lack of meaning for the skins or the people who identify with these historical semiotics. Through the story I have written, I hope that my concerns are heard loud and clear: are our uses of tattoos diluting a culture’s true meaning? And how cultural erosion is still happening today, the true meaning of different cultures being lost to the modern and ever-evolving world.

~~~

I stare at Sina as she listens intently to Nana and Pops speak. Her chin tilted up slightly, the only indication that she’s feeling smug. I couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of apprehension. A very strong sense of jealousy too, I think.

On the fine mat beside the three, sat one of the supposed family heirlooms of our Samoan family, the ‘au ta: a comb, a shellplate and a handle. All three used together to form a bond- a connection between person and culture. A tatau. A tattoo.

As I continue to watch Sina talk with our grandparents animatedly, I realise that this jealousy isn’t rooted from sibling rivalry or selfishness, but rather a jealousy derived from possessiveness.

It should be me, not her.

I should be the one to get this malu, not her.

I deserve this, I understand this more.

Not her.

When Sina was twelve and I was seven, our parents had separated. I think it was going to happen eventually, if not then, later on. What else did we expect? A white father so deeply rooted in his business back in the States, nothing could ever hold him back from reaching for the near impossible- not even his wife at the time, a reserved dark brown woman, who like her then husband, was so deeply rooted in her passion: her home country. After their separation, father had stayed back in America with Sina’s hand tightly grasped in his, and mother had coaxed me to the other side of the world in Samoa.

Boy, do I love it here. I understood why my mother could never let go of it.

It’s richness in natural earth- the farms, the occasional fale o’o spotted in almost every family land, the coconut trees, the taro plantations lined perfectly across each field- it was exotic, and oh so cultured it brought me to tears.

My mother’s parents immediately took me under their wing and taught me everything I didn’t know before about my heritage. I remember it as clear as day: Pops showing me the family heirlooms from his old and weathered trunk; the tuiga, the tootoo and the fue, and the ‘au ta. Nana showing me the traditional customs of being a Samoan- how to walk, how to speak, how to dance. I grew into a woman of importance- a woman who knows her origin and her nature.

“What are you daydreaming about in here?” asks Sina, now standing in the doorframe of the kitchen. I frown.

“Nothing.”

My sister lifts a brown at my short response and shrugs. She makes her way over and sits on one of the creaky wooden chairs at the dining table next to me.

“This is so unreal, don’t you think?” she says with a happy sigh. My frown deepens.

“What do you mean?” I reply.

“I’m finally connecting with my Samoan side,” she claims airily. My nose twitches. “I think this is where I was supposed to be after all,” she continues.

“Yeah. So unreal,” I roll my eyes and stand up to move towards the sink with a few dirty dishes.

“What’s wrong?” she questions, confusion clear in her voice. I glance over my shoulder at her and meet her stare blankly.

“Nothing. I’m happy for you,” I reply in a monotone. She scoffs.

“I can see it all over your face- you’re unhappy about something and you’re not telling me,” she states. “Just spit it out. What is it?” she implored. I sigh and turn back to the dishes.

“You.”

“Me?” she asks. “What about me?”

“You’re full of it,” I say, scrubbing the cup in my hands for the second time.

“Excuse me?” she exclaims. Here we go now. I choose to ignore her, and decide that the cup needs a third wash just for good measures. A moment later I feel a hand grab me by the elbow, yanking me to turn and face her.

“Is this your way of taking your jealousy out on me?” she hisses in a low tone, so as not to let our grandparents overhear us. “This is about you wanting the malu isn’t it?” she continues. My anger spikes then, and I shove her firmly away from me.

“You stay with Dad for twelve years indulging yourself in all of the petty gifts he gives you, and then you suddenly decide you want to pay Mummy dearest a visit. Because of what?” I ask with venom. “Because he started teaching you how to live with a backbone of your own without his investments and you didn’t like that one bit?” I continue. She opens her mouth to argue with me but I beat her to it.

“And now you waltz into this aiga claiming everything here as your own now,” I seethe. I’ll be damned if Nana and Pops can hear us now. I don’t care anymore.

“I may be the younger sister, but I was raised here. But you? You’re more white than you are brown sis, and you know it,” I glare at her. She scoffs.

“So that just makes you more entitled to this malu than me?” she jeers. “Mind you, we’re both afakasi here. So does that really mean you’re more worthy than I am?” she snaps at me.

“It really doesn’t, Sina” I sigh. “But if you’re the one to get the malu, you’re not just getting some tattoo to continue the family tradition. You’re getting this tattoo because you’re choosing to appreciate and acknowledge your heirloom and your culture,” I tell her. She rolls her eyes at me.

“And you think I don’t know that?”

“No. I think you’re still as obnoxious as you’ve always been since you were twelve, and only want this for the recognition you will get for it,” I reply. “With a malu, comes responsibilities. Those are not responsibilities that you can just learn over the span of a few days, it takes living your life here to experience it all.”

“Look, Alofa. I know it’s painful not to be the one to get this shot at being chosen,” she says condescendingly. “But this is my birthright. I have always been entitled to this, no matter how white I am compared to the brown side of me,” she tries to reason. Lucky for her, it is all falling on deaf ears.

“Let’s say you’ve already gotten the malu done, and the reveal ceremony is complete,” I try again. “You lose interest in Samoa and decide-”

“That won’t be happening.”

“-to move back to the States with Dad.” I continue, ignoring her lame interjection. “How would you deal with concealing the tattoos everyday?” I ask her. She furrows her brow in confusion.

“I would never cover my malu,” she states, as if it were the most irrational thing to do. “I would show it everyday with pride.”

Lord help us.

~~~

Terms for translation:

‘Au ta: Traditional Samoan tools used for tattooing practices. Consisting of a comb, a shellplate and a handle.

Tatau: A traditional Samoan tattoo.

Malu: The only traditional female tattoo in Samoa, done on the upper thighs down to below the knees. Females with a lineage of high chiefs or a father who is a high chief is entitled and obligated to receive this tattoo. However, today this is not the case, as many females (both Samoan and non-Samoan) have used the malu as a form of cultural appreciation rather than of family history. This tattoo is sacred, and is also translated to “home” or “protection.” It is to be covered at all times, unless it is during a taupou siva (a ceremonial dance).

Fale oo: A traditional Samoan open house, made out of dried out sugar-cane or palm tree leaves and branches, stones and bricks.

Tuiga: A headpiece worn by the High Chief’s daughter during ceremonial dances.

Tootoo: A traditional staff used by chiefs during speeches.

Fue: A handle with long loose hairs made out of baby coconut husks woven together. Also used by chiefs during speeches.

Aiga: Family.

Afakasi: A person who is half-caste.