Tuesday September 29th started off like any other morning. I woke up early, took the 35 minute bus ride from Faleniu to Utulei, and was stopping to pick up a bottle of water. At 6:40 I had just entered Young Mart, a local convenient store, when the first major earthquake hit. Things were falling from the shelves, the building began rattling, and the store clerk screamed for everyone to get out. There was definitely panic in the air, but once the trebling stopped- maybe a full minute or two later- everyone switched gears and acted like the quake was no big deal. So I shrugged off the incident like everyone else. I went back inside and made my purchase like normal. Excited about the events, though, I tried to call back home but the phone lines were already down. About 5 minutes after leaving the store, I was sitting at my Samoana High School classroom desk when the rattling started again. All of a sudden the school bells started ringing and a small group of students who hang out behind my classroom began running and screaming. Still unsure of what was going on, I walked to the front door of my room and peaked outside. Students were running and a pickup truck full of boys raced by. I’ll never forget them yelling “Quick, Ms. Jessie! Jump in or run fast!” I ran back in my room and threw my laptop into my backpack before sprinting out the door. (Yes, in hindsight I know this was a poor decision!) Just as I shut my classroom door, the last few students and a teacher, Femi, ran around the corner of the building. Femi yelled for us to run towards the tramway as fast as possible. My school is less than 50 yards from the ocean and is wedged between the coast and the base of a mountain. Right behind campus is the old tramway trail up the mountain, so the trail was packed full of students, teachers, local workers, and Utulei residents scrambling to high ground. School wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour and half, so only about 150 students and 4 teachers were on campus and headed for safety.
At this point chaos was in the air, and the threat of a tsunami was real. After literally running up the mountain, we came to a look out point and stopped to get a glimpse of the land below. The road and village were deserted. We could tell a wave had hit because the road and the ground below were wet, the dips in the road were flooded, and rocks and debris lay strewn about. The damage, however, wasn’t enormous. As we looked out into the bay waves were traveling in the wrong direction. The bay was quickly emptying and all the water was traveling out into the depths of the harbor. After a few minutes the entire bay was just exposed coral and rock. Just as soon as the bay emptied, though, it filled back up and reached the brim of the coastline. We watched this happen a total of 4 times. After the first wave, the water never spilled over the seawall. (Little did we know that this wasn’t the case everywhere.) Everyone stood at the mountain top speechless. Realizing that we probably weren’t the hardest hit area, students began to cry. In Samoa family is the core of society and plays an unbelievable important role in one’s entire life. Students couldn’t help think about their parents and younger siblings closer to the harbor. With nothing else to do and unsure about what was going to happen next the students organized themselves into 2 concentric circles. Quickly all the kids linked hands and there we stood connected. Our surroundings were idyllic: the sky was bright blue, a cool breeze blew, and lush green trees and plants filled the mountain top. In unison, everyone began to sing. Samoans naturally have the most beautiful voices, so magnificent sounds filled the air. After the first song, one person led the group in prayer before the circle chimed in with one final melody. As we stood connected, tears streamed down many of the kids’ faces, and it was hard for me to stay dry-eyed. Those five minutes of togetherness formed one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. In the midst of such tragedy and crisis, the students were united by their faith and knew nothing else to do except sing and pray to their heavenly father.
Once everyone collected themselves, we sat down to wait. We didn’t know what was next or if another tsunami would come. For the first hour or so we felt several other tremors, and each time we would watch the water for signs of another wave. The phone lines were down for the most part, and I could never call out, but I was able to receive 3 calls over the course of the morning. Brandi, our WorldTeach field director, called me twice. The first was to make sure I was okay and well, and the next was to see if I had been able to contact any of the other volunteers to make sure they were safe- unfortunately I was by myself and unable to reach anyone else. The other call was from Kate, a good friend and fellow volunteer. I was relieved to hear her voice, as she let me know that the Leone group of volunteers had escaped the disaster. She did provide new info about the tsunami. Apparently waves in Leone had reached 15 feet and waves in Pago had reached 20 feet and wiped out 2 story buildings. After her call we heard many more rumors about damage and deaths. We hoped none of it was true.
After 4 hours of waiting and the students growing restless, we heading back down the mountain. As there were not many teachers in the crowd, Femi and I trailed the pack to make sure all the students made it down. We headed to a church at the half way point to see if there was anyone we knew. We didn’t find any friends, but a whole village was camped out around the exterior of the building. Once we reached the base we ran into a student covered in mud. Serene had been in Pago when the earthquakes and tsunami hit, and she managed to salvage her camera and take pictures of the destruction. After things were safe she had run over to the school to show people what had happened. Her pictures showed massive devastation and destruction - nothing I had expected to see. The Utulei bay is very shallow and that is what saved the village and school. Pago, however, is at the end of the deep harbor and didn’t fare nearly as well. Her camera showed images of cars in the second stories of buildings, bare slab foundations where buildings had been torn away, and debris everywhere. Pago is just a few minutes walk and two villages away from my school in Utulei. I couldn’t believe the difference in impact and destruction. I could already tell that other parts of the island had endured massive devastation. With nothing else to do, Femi and I caught a ride back to my house. As we drove along the coast road, we had to swerve around piles of debris. Damage was done, but I had yet to see total destruction. In Nu’uuli the coast road curves and moves inland. Here there was a back up of several hundred cars. Once the first quake hit cars came to a halt and the police barricaded the road so no one could travel next to the coast. Femi lives next to the water so she stayed at my house for a few hours. I live in the most inland part of the island and on fairly high ground. If anything else was coming, we would be safe. Sitting at my house I felt useless. I knew there was so much damage, but there was nothing I could do. The next morning I found out all teachers were supposed to check in at their schools, but Julia (my housemate) and I wanted to find somewhere we could help. We walked around town, and found nowhere that really needed us...If only we had walked 5 minutes further we would have uncovered a different story.
The next day, Thursday, we got more news at our Samoana staff meeting. Four teachers and their families were homeless. At least eleven students were orphaned- their parents killed by the waves... This is when everything began hitting hard emotionally. Until now I had been scared, I had felt extreme sadness, I had felt the helplessness that usually accompanies tragedy, but now things became very personal.
Once our meeting was over, I travelled with Max into Pago. I couldn’t believe the destruction. There were many places where foundations stood with no buildings attached. Boats were hundreds of feet inland and crashed into buildings. Cars were wrecked every hundred feet or so, and building parts and debris covered everything. Max had been here the day before and said that the amount of clean up had already been enormous. (I can’t imagine what it looked like before). Everyone walked around with face masks to protect themselves from the debris and stench filled air. A layer of smoke also filled the village as many fires were set up to burn the rubble. I imagine Pago resembling something like a war zone. As we walked, Max told me stories he had heard and things he had seen the day before. He pointed out the areas where many bodies were found and the former homes of our students and fellow teachers. As we walked I ran into a few students. One was sitting outside his family store. It barely stood, and looters had come through and taken anything that was left. Each time we met a student, Max and I were amazed at their spirits. I’m convinced that Samoa has some of the strongest children. Houses wiped away, family members gone, but still the kids smile, joke, and carry on with life.
The past few days have, thus, been filled by much emotion. Feeling helpless here in many ways led me to organize an effort for people back home to help. Hopefully the American Samoa Tsunami Relief Fund makes a difference, however small, by helping people rebuild there lives. School resumes for the first time tomorrow, and I’m sure I will be faced with a new set of emotions. I have been dreading the stories my students will bring me and my thoughts have been with them since I began the trek up the mountain for safety on Tuesday morning.
Note: More to come on the American Samoa Tsunami Relief Fund and what you can do to help!
