Tucked away on the northern coast of Savai’i are a throng of beach fale resorts that have quietly become one of Samoa’s best kept secrets. While visiting his mother, PETER REES attempts to unravel the mystique and secrets of the village of Manase.
Mystical Manase
Silence. That’s the first thought that comes to mind sitting on a beach in Manase gazing out to sea just after sunset. Manase (pronounced Mah-nah-seh) is a village on the northern coast of Savaii island, the Big Island, in Samoa. It is populated by just a few hundred people and is known for its serene beauty and lives up to its gracefully sounding name, particularly in the evenings.
It’s just after 6pm and the coastal road that passes through the village is devoid of people and cars. Families retreat to their fales to conduct their evening prayers. The silence is occasionally broken by the soothing sound of crashing waves.
Although the experience is nothing new to me, it still feels surreal. This is as close to nature as you can get.
Tourists head to the islands for various reasons. Many go for the sun and surf and flashy resorts, waited on by exotic maidens and handsome men as they work on their tans.
But I’m not a tourist. I’m a New Zealand-born Samoan, Wellington-raised. It’s only when I am in Samoa do I feel at peace with who I am. Having lived there for close to seven years on and off since first visiting in 1988, it has become my second home.
If you’re after a travel story, I’ll leave that for the palagis and tourists to give you their experiences. Mine is one of observation, of how one village has transformed itself into the pride of Samoa’s blooming tourism industry.
It is true that the military coup in Fiji and riots in Tonga late last year diverted a lot of the Pacific’s annual tourist traffic Samoa’s way, but numbers have been on the rise for more than a decade now. And at the forefront has been the emergence of beach fale-type accommodation owned by local families and geared towards budget travellers and backpackers. If Hawaii has Waikiki, then I guess the same can be said of Samoa with Manase.
Putting my personal bias aside, for the record I do not hail from Manase. My family is actually from Lotopa and Satuimalufilufi.
My mother Elaine Leota (nee Ah Chong) has been running a beach fale resort in Manase for the past five years with my step-father Leota, a former pro-wrestler and Minister in government, who is from the neighbouring village of Avao.
Vacations Beach Fales is just one of five beach fale and hotel resorts sharing a strip of beach no more than a mile long in Manase. But you don’t get that crowded feeling. In fact, when you look from afar you can barely make them out because of the lush surroundings.
When I first came to this place in the late 1990s, my mother was running a gas station and a shop across the road from where the resort would be. Back then there were just a couple of small open fales several metres from the beach. At night, it’s just you, a mattress and pillow, the starry sky and your thoughts to keep you company. You feel a million miles away from everything. Pure bliss.
When I returned in May - in between the funeral of the late Head of State Tanumafili II and the 45th Independence celebrations - I noticed Manase is a busier place now, a centre of commerce for locals living on that part of the island. Many employees at the resorts are from nearby villages. Thankfully, many things are still the same. Manase has a peaceful reputation and local resorts go out of their way to respect village protocols and culture.
My mother appreciates the type of travellers that come by, a good portion of them from New Zealand, Australia, the US, and Europe.
“They come to Manase for the cultural experience,” she says.
“People that usually stay with us want to see life in the rural villages, get a chance to go to church with the locals and even see how we cook our food. You don’t really get that personal touch in other places like in Apia.”
The obvious pull for people is the peaceful untouched surroundings. It makes mundane things such as walking and swimming a special experience.
Many of her clientele are referred by word of mouth.
“Sometimes we get the same people coming back again. Most of the compliments we get are for our food and our clean amenities,” she adds.
I’m proud of my Mum. With just high school education behind her (although she did serve as treasurer for our church parish once), she has managed to build a successful business from scratch.
During my brief stay I had a beer with Brian, an American from Denver, Colorado, who had been staying at Vacations for five, yes five, months, while working on a church construction project in nearby Fagamalo. Was he homesick?
“No way. I could live here,” he says.
“I’ve had a great time and it’s nice coming to this at the end of the working day. It’s a far cry from what I am used to.”
I leave the next day, his words still echo in my mind as the van makes the 45 minute trip to Salelologa Wharf, where I catch my ferry back to Apia, back to reality, and back to the grind.
