This morning on the radio, I heard about the tsunami that hit Samoa. The New York Times now reports that the death toll is much worse than first feared. Not only that, but the tsunami hit the village of Lalomanu, which is where I spent a week in April. The families that own the fales have lost dozens of people, including many children who were washed out to sea.
It's unreal. I knew them. I'm just overwhelmed with memories of Lalomanu and the families who lived there and owned the fale resorts. They worked so hard to make an Easter feast for us. And to make sure we lashed our tarps down properly, and used the water buckets for our feet, so as not to get our fales sandy. And I remember the girl whose name I forget, who accompanied me, shyly, on my walk down the road, and told me about her school work, and how to handle knives. I wonder where she is now.