WHY WE EAT PISUPO!

From Tupea's polynesian market

When I was attending university in New Zealand, I stumbled across a poetry workshop on my way to one of the lecture halls.  There were a couple of students in the queue so I joined the line because I'd never been to a poetry workshop.  The theater was not so packed and when the curtain was raised, I saw a fair skinned, big boned, long haired woman probably in her early 20s. Her voice was a crisp whisper in the air, drawing in her audience and she spoke with a melody inked with her ancestors' voices. 

This was the first time I heard poetry expressed and performed by the author, herself.  It was poetry in its pure form, raw, true and most importantly in the poet's own voice. Her voice controlled the mood and produced the stage effect she wanted.  She performed about twenty or so poems but one I remember to this day. Actually two.  The first poem was about a dog(s) named Bingo.  In this stanza she speaks of her Samoan family's numerous dogs, different shapes and colours all having the same name. Bingo. The second poem I remember, was probably the most memorable about pisupo and why Samoans love to eat it.

It began with the poet, standing in the middle of the stage with a single spotlight on her:

She had the following props:

A chair

A machete

A 6lb pisupo (corned beef)

Slowly and deliberately she made us watch while she took out her machete.  A small gasp went through the crowd when she swayed it from side to side.  Her Samoan hips swayed from side to side while imitating the action.  Then she took the large can of pisupo (corned beef) and used the machete to open it.  If you've never used a knife instead of a palagi can opener to open a canned pisupo, then you need to re-visit your grandmother's house.   It is an art all Samoan girls and boys must learn to master before learning how to cook a palagi rice inside a palagi oven.

The rest of the poem was blurred but the lines that were most memorable and drew the most reaction from the audience included these:

"Do you know why Samoans love corned beef?

Because it's the one thing that tastes closest to human flesh!"

When the people around me heard this, they quickly turned their heads towards the only brown person among them, me,  for confirmation.  My first reaction :laughter, my second reaction, a nod.  Truthfully, Samoans love corned beef because it's food, it's beef, it comes in a can and it's PISUPO! No one ever stopped to think about what it resembled! Whether it tastes like human flesh (I don't know because obviously we are not cannibals any more) or not, people's reasons for eating pisupo cannot be studied under a microscope.  Rather, it is a collective WE when it comes to anything eatable. Food is a universal language we all speak, ok maybe not universal, a Pacific language none the less.

The poetry show was eye-opening, uncomfortable at times because she spoke about gluttony, sexual abuse, dog problem, cannibalism in pisupo form and other issues that are presently sensitive in our culture.  To this day, I don't recall the poet's name but boy she was memorable.

I enjoyed it, it stirred up other issues that we hardly talk about. Issues such as feminism, sex, church leaders' abuse of power and using the bible as leverage to live a comfortable life while our people try to make ends meet on a minimum wage, working several jobs leaving their children to fend for themselves or leaving them with friends or relatives. Issues that are important.

As we start the week, (Monday!) I dare you to think of reasons why we do the things we do, including the reasons why we eat the food we eat and think the thoughts in our heads. Most of the times, the reasons are tradition! We eat because our parents ate and so it is a habit that transfers from them to us.  I eat pisupo because my parents introduced me to it and it goes beautifully with taro! The thought of human flesh never crosses my mind when I eat pisupo but one does wonder about the taste of human flesh and who created pisupo in the first place! Why do we eat pisupo??

You coconut, me coconut, us coconut!

 As the clock strikes 4 and I'm about to fall asleep on my desk, shuffling through some beauty tips that I will never use because I don't wear makeup (only on special occasions and when I have time for some mascara) or blow dry my hair, or have blonde curls that need moisturizer every few hours, something odd strikes me, I am kokonut oil! Yes, like most Pacific girls who have chores, jobs, family obligation, who are too busy  sometimes that we wonder if we've brush our teeth or not, I feel sorry for all the women in the world spending thousands of dollars on beauty products each year. Ohh the insanity!

There is one and ONLY one common beauty product that our great grandmothers, grandmothers, mothers, aunts have used since the beginning of infinity. COCONUT OIL.  We put it on our faces, hair, body and currently in our food, drinks etc.  This was our best kept secret until it was no longer a secret.  One day, a brilliant woman woke up from her slumber and decided to introduce the non-Pasifikans to our secret, COCONUT OIL.Coconut oil being used by celebrities like Miranda Kerr, Gisele Bundchen, Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Anniston and others  have boosted the demand for coconut oil worldwide.  Whether women of the world are sucked in by the incredible marketing or affiliating the use of virgin coconut oil for their own skin with beauty, or both, this band wagon is full and more people are jumping on board.    .  Soon enough, they will come calling, asking, begging for more coconut oil.  They have discovered our secret and now want it for themselves.  For their skin, faces, lips, hips and so forth.  I am a coconut filled with coconut thoughts today.

 

Our virgin coconut oil has more than a hundred uses, and it's been flowing through our veins since the beginning of time.  The tree of life has been good to us, sheltering and protecting us.  Before the white man colonised us, coconuts was our faithful friend.  We used the trees to build houses, for clothing, utensils, medicine, tools and more uses than I can think of.

With so many companies asking for coconut oil, I wonder, how on earth will we be able to supply their demands continuously? We currently supply oil in large quantities because let's face it, Samoa has some of the best organic oil in the world.  Since these companies have increased the demand for coconut ant its by-products and with climate change, yes climate change ripples, our coconuts keep  falling over, maturing and dying. With Cyclone Evan, rushing and kicking over our coconuts at the beginning of this year, Samoa is slowly  recovering agriculturally and coconut-wise.

Is it wrong to sell our kokonuts for some paper-bag sealed nuts? No.  Nevertheless, it is a concern if everyone who didn't care about coconuts before suddenly steal from their neighbour because the cost has gone up.  In the past, you could find 20 coconuts for $5 or less, now the best deal you get is 6 for $5!Calculate the difference? This is because more demand, low supply, high cost: the basis of economics.  Coconuts are exported overseas, more and more people sell to companies instead of the local market. They get more money and soon enough our traditionals foods that are made magically from coconut cream (pe'epe'e) will dwindle and cease to exist.  Can you imagine our oka without real pe'epe'e? Our fa'alifu, palusami, vaisu, vaisalo, koko alaisa, faiai fe'e, pa'a (anything crawling/swimming in the sea) without our magic coconut cream ingredient? Ohhh the abomination!

While it's great that subsistence and semi-commercial farmers are earning money from the coconuts, I just hope that they are also growing more plants.  Coconut palms are grown in more than 80 countries of the world, with a total production of 61 million tonnes per year. The are very hard to establish in dry climates, and cannot grow there without frequent irrigation; in drought conditions (Wikipedia, 2013). They are also prone to diseases and it takes a while for them to mature.  Given the proper care and growing conditions, coconut palms produce their first fruit in 6 to 10 years, but takes 15 to 20 years to reach peak production(Leon,2013). That is a substantial amount of time to wait around for coconuts to be falling from the trees.

Our tree of life may cease to exist we keep giving it away.  If coconut oil is to be used in numerous products including filling up our car tanks, in beauty products,  this beautiful resource will no longer be found freely in our backyards. When the Middle East oil wells dry up, who will the world turn to next? Our coconuts may be the next source of renewable, cleaner, more affordable fuel.  Imagine the powerhouses sitting on the table with our future PM discussing ways to grow ONLY coconuts on our whole islands.  Imagine...

So my fellow coconuts, next time you enjoy a nice cold niu, think of the future. Think of our children and their children, will they ever taste what we've tasted? The beatiful, clear, clean, healthy taste of coconuti? 

www.todaysphoto.org, 2013

I leave you now with a lovely, simple poem by Michael Flores Caasi

ODE TO MY COCONUT TREE
How beautiful to stare and to see,
Those palm ribs of my favorite coconut tree;
Where trunk is towering up and high.
Like birds soaring high in sky.
The fruits may be hard outside
but there's a clear and soft heart inside,
The juice within can make me strong
And make my joyful life so long.
My tree is always proud to stand
Where roots are tightly holding grounds;
At night when stars and moon are bright,
My tree smiles in perfect sight.
O dear O lovely coconut tree
Be still today, thanks for inspiring me.

Other interesting reads:
Mailelani Products
Samoa stories of families making a living from coconut oil
Body Shop Coconuts from Samoa
It is profitable (DME)
New Life with coconut life
Solomon Is "Coconut Technology Centre"
101 uses for coconut oil (Mama,2013) more benefits of coconut oil 

BODY SHOP products made from Samoa's very own Virgin Oil

PROTECT US!

The farm girl

My niece Arabella is three years old. She is beautiful and not because she's my niece, she is very beautiful.  A true afakasi, with a palagi father and a fruit salad mother (my sister). Fruit salad meaning Samoan, Chinese, German and Tokelauean blood running through her/our veins. She is a very smart child, learning to talk before she was 11 months old  and could speak proper sentences by the time she was 14 months. She can roll out paragraphs and whole shelves of books now! As my second and youngest niece, (my oldest niece is Josephine) I look at her beautiful face and hope the best for her. I'd protect her with every fiber of my being and let no harm come to her.  I hope that's how every mother feel about their child especially their daughters.  Just as we protect everything dear to us, our rose gardens, our own skins we too should do the same for our daughters.

When my niece is being naughty and her nana disciplines her, as soon as I walk through the door, I hear 'Auntyyyyyyyy Eniiiid, can I go to your house please" she pleads.  Sweetly, saying this endearment when she wants something, because she knows I will not deny her.  Immediately, guessing from the plea she has been naughty and she wants to run away from her nana. She's intelligent and knows very well that if she misbehaves, nana will restrict her privileges such as watching too much tv, eating too much sweets or playing with ipad, Dora the explorer, going outside to torture the cat. She also knows that if she comes to my house, she has several chances of blowing out candles, pretending it's her birthday, the slight chance of eating ice-cream, very big chance of touching my jewelery and taking a necklace, ring, bracelet goodie bag when she returns to nana's house. She is a collector of my many things and also a loser of all them.

Arabella brings joy to my life, she says random things that make me smile and when she's being smart, I am reminded of her mother when she was young.  Samoa news this past week saddens and disgusts me.  One committed suicide, one was banished from her village for having sex, one was the victim of abuse,rape and worse they are all female. I think of Arabella and what I would do if anyone abducts, beats her to the pulp, rapes, films then uploads that video of her on the internet for the world to see. I'd wish for every war, earthquake, famine, evil thing to fall onto that person, for the world to turn over and for him to fall from it into oblivion onto a bed of knives.  For him to feel the agony, the hatred, the vengeful spirit of every woman that has been the victim of abuse, sexual violence and hate crimes.  For his blood to paint the streets of Apia and for his head to stand on a rotting rod for all to see, for his body to be torn apart by dogs and every sharp object that exists on this Earth.  I'd also wish that through all of these, he is conscious to feel every ounce of pain, when the female race is done with him, we can turn him over to God so he can skin him alive, turn him inside out and use every old testament punishment  to inflict pain upon him, slowly and surely.  Even Satan's last days in the lake of fire will not compare to this person's pain when God is done with him.

Almost every week a man stands in court accused and convicted of similar crimes, raping, assaulting, molesting, abusing a woman.  Almost every week more men stand in court to provide answers for  molesting, raping their own biological daughters and nieces, some as young as 18 months!  It brings to light the sort of danger that is lurking behind the scenes in paradise, our home, our Samoa. It reveals how evil and vile the world has become, not just any world, within our homes, our villages, our churches, our communities, our nation! How can we ever feel safe when the people we are to trust, brought us into this world, whose loins we come from turn around and commit these acts against us? How does a daughter run away from her father while he demands this of her? How does she confess to her mother and how does that mother behave? How does a toddler who barely speaks asks for help? Shame!Shame!Shame!How can we let this go on behind our doors?

These acts of violence have become so rampant, it's almost becoming a norm in our culture.  People are not surprised any more when they hear of yet another girl falling victim to rape. It's like we have become accustomed to men raping, hitting, killing us! When did this become acceptable in our society?  How many more girls are to be raped by their own brothers, fathers,uncles, grandfathers, neighbours, friends before we do something about it?   How did these men become monsters? How did society allow them to travel down these paths that have removed their respect for women and the love for themselves.  If they can't love themselves then how can they respect and love others.How many more children under the age of 5 should be torn apart by evil men and perhaps killed before Samoa wakes up! Does it take a nation? A community? A group? It takes just one.  

We ought to teach our daughters how to protect themselves. When I was reading Jason's article "Strength of a woman", I remember one woman whose mission was to protect me.  When I was seven, mother dearest and I went to her usual Friday night bingo.  On our way to my grandpa's house to drop off another gambler (relative), we saw a car parked on the side of the road with 3 men and one young woman squished in the middle.  It was about 1 am, it must have been some warning sign going off in mum's head because when we passed the car she stopped and reversed.  She rolled the window down, and asked these men who they were and what they were doing with the young woman, who looked very scared.  At a second glance, 2 guys were on her right side and one on her left, they forced her to sit in the middle.  She looked about 18 with tears streaming down her face, her hair was disheveled and her lipstick stained on the side of her mouth.  

Mum repeatedly asked the men who they were and demanded to see their faces.  The girl must have said something to her, I couldn't hear because I was on the other side.  Mum, reversed a little more and blocked the car that was trying to move.  She threatened the three men, she told them that if they did not let the girl come with us, she had friends down the road whom she can call.  She also added that she knew policemen in very high places and they will chase them down.  She concluded that she had seen  and memorized all their faces and they should be very scared.  Three men against one woman, my mother.  I don't know how she did it, but the men eventually let the girl go. As soon as she got in the car, she bursted into tears and told mum she was being held by the three men and they told her she will never see her family again.  The seven year old me did not really understand what was happening, I just knew that something very dangerous was happening to this poor girl and that it was not good.

Mum dropped off the relative and we took this sobbing stranger to our home.  Mum asked her a few questions about her family and how she came to be in that car.  She was shaking, crying and trying to talk.  She said she went out with a few cousins and they left her at Mt Vaea Club, then one of the guys approached her who was her cousin's friend.  He told her that her cousin was waiting outside and they ought to go with him and the rest led to her being held against her will. Mother dearest saved this young woman from what would have been a terrible ending.  I hope she learned a good lesson and is living a happy life. From that day forward my parents taught all their daughters these:

1. NEVER EVER EVER get into someone else's car even if it was my uncle's
2. Do not talk to strangers who might come to pick us up from school 
3. Never go anywhere without their permission including leaving the house to ride a bike (we had male workers who work on the farm)
4. If we step foot outside or near the worker's house, we will die! (well not die but something similar)
5. We were not allowed to sleep over at any of our friends' houses
6. Never walk alone -anywhere
7. Do not take anything from people we don't know when they offer
8. If any man/boy approaches us and say perverted things, we must tell my papa 
9. Always get my older sister to go with us if we want to go to the bathroom
10. NEVER EVER EVER go anywhere with ANYONE we don't know

There were many more restrictions but these are the ones that ring true to this day.  I wrote about forgiveness not too long ago and again I ask, how can we forgive such evil acts? Rape is about holding power over someone else but it doesn't stop there.Soraya Chemaly wrote about 50 rape facts but those do not truly cover and discuss the extent of rape. Rape is just one evil but there are numerous evils that lead up to rape. These men are cowards! They choose to prey on women, children because they are cowards.  How can we prevent men from turning into monsters? How do we know the signs? How can we better protect ourselves?

Please Samoa wake up before it's too late! Protect us. Parents should teach their children how to protect themselves from an early age. I thank my parents for holding us in their hands, for laying down the rules and ensured that we follow them. I thank my papa for his militant ways because if he wasn't strtict,where would we be. I have five sisters, so you can imagine the white hairs we've put on our papa's head throughout the years.  I thank my mother for teaching us how to stand up, speak out, tell someone if we are ever in danger or put in an uncomfortable position. I thank her for her fighting spirit, her strength and for teaching us how to protect ourselves.  I cry for the child that cannot speak, for the teenager who thinks they are strong enough to rebel against their parents wishes, I cry for the woman whose husband beats her and keeps silent.  I cry for the men who are monsters, who repeat their foul acts, mostly I cry for Samoa, for being silent all these years, for turning a blind eye and for ignoring the monstrosity that is within ourselves. I cry for change and I cry for those innocent victims whose lives will be forever changed!

African woman

Help me see

the truth

life or death

for you

Woman of Africa

Africa kills men

of no hope

Children of the future

are scorned by killing

and raping of women

and the land

and sorrow

that will not rest

That I cannot find

Help me find peace

Not just a UN word

Or promises of life and love

that do not exist

But exist I do

Do you know

What it is like

to walk alone

in a world of disease and shame

To the woman who bore me

Me the bastard of lust and AIDS

Four letter words

That seek revenge

for my lusting mother

The woman of Africa

Pasifika Arts & Literary Series

Published by : Massey University

Copyright ©2009 Juliet Enid Westerlund

Forgiveness in the rain

Yesterday's blog for today.

Rain

As I was driving to work this morning, sheets of rain came down to engulf me, my baby (car) and a grey blanket of clouds loomed over me.  Living in paradise usually means a postcard of sun, sand and beach (skinny bikini model and abs guy) sorry to burst your holiday bubble if you are on your way to Samoa but November ushers in the rainy/cyclone season.  Like you, I enjoy the hot, clear blue sky days and I immensely dislike the rain.  While I was driving, I remember a particular conversation I had with one close family friend exactly five years ago. I was sitting in Aute's guesthouse at Saleimoa when it started to rain, lightly at first and then soundly. 

 "I hate the rain!" I lamented

"Why? You should love it! We are so used to the sun that we forget about the rain!What is the sun without the rain? I love the rain because it calms everything down.  It gives new life and changes the normal colour of our world.  The rain renews", Aute said.

It struck me that she was absolutely correct! We are so used to good things that we forget about the bad! The rain is not bad but it can represent all the small annoyances in life, pesky problems, small encounters that we replay over and over in our minds that could have had a better outcome.  Some of the things we say offhandedly that we wish we could take back.  After all, what is happiness without sadness? What is success without struggle? What is destination without the journey? Sometimes, it takes real problems to make us appreciate the solutions. Other times, it takes just one smile from a stranger to turn a rainy day into a sunny one.

Aute explained the usefulness and the many good faces of rain.  She reminded me about the villagers who needed  rain for their water supply as some of the rural villages can go weeks without clean, fresh water.  Then of course, my farming papa who needs the rain now and then to nourish his many lovers (pumpkins, water melons, cabbages, cows, broccoli, saladeer, pele leaves ...).  There are many uses of the rain like the little annoyances in life. Just as the plants need the rain to grow, we need the little annoyances of life to learn, to mature us, to test us so that we can become better christians, better people. Other annoyances can transform into huge bitter roots that will only bear terrible fruits if we don't snuff them out early enough.  For instance, if there is a particular person that you have "chosen" to dislike "just because", everything that person does will turn out wrong in your sight, the things they say will never make sense, the clothes they wear will never be fashion sense enough for you, the car they drive is just not cool enough and eventually even their life partner/husband/wife  and innocent children will be painted in the same dark ink that you have mixed for years!

That interesting conversation between Hibiscus and I, is still embedded in my memory.  It also struck me that I was a lover or rain I was a child. My older sister, Joanne and I used to get hidings from mother dearest because we would just fill a tub, gallon, basically anything that was knee-waist-neck high enough to hold water.  We would wait patiently until the tub/gallon is filled to the brim then we both jump in, pretending that we were either at the river or at the beach. We would spend enough time in there to wrinkle our skin plus the hiding if were were found out. If we couldn't find any of those, we would just go outside and wait for the rain to drown us. The best part is the warm bed after the cold showers.

Rain is renewal, rejuvenation, a new chapter.  Rain like Aute explained can be powerful enough to wash our insecurities, problems, fears away.  There is something magical about the rain, cleansing, a reconciliation between the old and new, giving enough warning before it comes.  Starting, softly, slowly at first then gradually beats down on us like a loving father.  There is forgiveness in the rain. I told someone once that forgiveness liberates the soul, the words of Nelson Mandela in the movie Invictus, when he was imprisoned for his beliefs.

"Forgiveness liberates the soul, it removes fear. That's why it's such a powerful weapon."

The rain can also symbolize a path of reconciliation with others.  A choice to live in harmony. Wash away the old, dust and replace with the new.  Forgiveness frees us from many unpleasant things and is extremely difficult. I know because I am human.  If we were perfect, we would not need forgiveness, reconciliation or instruction.  Forgiveness is the product of humility. To put others before ourselves, instead of pointing to them we point to ourselves, we see our own imperfections and using the courage through humility to truly forgive someone regardless of who is right or wrong.  If we hold onto an unforgiving heart, we choose to be enslaved by our thoughts, to be unwilling to forgive is to actively add to a wound that is already infected, it will rot our bones from the core. Our lives will be forever hindered if we don't forgive.

Thank you God for the rain yesterday and for the sun today. Choose to live with a new pair of eyes today, so that we can see with a new vision and a new heart. It might rain in our lives now and then, but the sun will bring new hope and renewed energy.

 

Sunrise  at Maui

Note: Aute is a real person just with a different name, her grandchildren call her "Frangipani"

Opening the Flood gates!Oh my F-Book!

When I started this blog a little over two months ago, at first I was a bit hesitant (panicky).  Although I may be a straight forward (opinionated), poet-at-times,farmer, aviator with numerous stories to tell, I'd like to think that I am still a private person. Additionally, I  try and refrain from using too much social media.  Like everything in life, social media sites can either be truly beneficial or detrimental to a person's well-being, depending on how they are utilized. Facebook is especially handy when you travel, study overseas, you are the President of a scholars' club,Ambassador of that same club for Oceania Continent (ok Australia but Pacific is still a continent to us), stuck in the middle of nowhere and need help, free accommodation, catchup with a friend or to reconnect with people whom you have not seen or heard from in a long, long time.

I permanently deleted my Facebook Page twice (yes it can be done), deleted Friendster, Bebo,Hi5 and all the other 'please add me to be just another name on your 1000+ friends list that I don't even know or talk to, so I can validate, feel-good about myself' websites.  After returning from London, I had some 900+ people on my Fretbook page and several posts that I wanted to reinvent. I decided that due to limited and expensive internet access (beauty of living on an island), I would delete my page and use the ancient, oh-so reliable email. So, I did.  Earth to me! Within 30 seconds , I kid you not, some 5 friends jumped on email/whatsapp/Blackberry chat and harassed me.

"Enid, where are you? 

why have you deleted your Fb page? 

Are you crazy!

What's happening?"

All questions to imply that I have killed myself off from the world and that I have died a social death immediately.  My friends will soon wither in numbers and that my family might find me naked on the couch. Okay, maybe not that extreme but you get the picture.

I realized that I could have been more subtle going about Fretbook Page deletion (or not), that 'hey wait a minute', I deleted the page thinking there is too much of my life in the public eye and that I will do fine without Facebook. On the flip side, I totally forgot that I do have hundreds of friends and family who LIVE on FretPage and cannot go a day without it.  I have friends who are all over the world who can easily keep track of me on there and that they within seconds recognized that I am gone from the face of Planet Earth!

Upon the request (harassment/lamentation/threats) of my overseas friends (Indian and Japanese), I slowly resurrected my FretBook page and was very cautious of what I posted on there. A few weeks/months later, I started this blog.

As soon as I publicized the blog, I have been getting so many responses, questions and lovely stories. Positive and overwhelming,unexpected responses.  In my little corner of the world, my blogs have inspired a few, ignite new ideas for some and made others laugh a little.  I set out to write a few words on the life of a young woman in aviation not knowing that there are many who want to hear/read/know this story among some of our Samoan stories.  A story like mine can easily be bettered, just not told in the same way. In the words of a great poet,

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Maya Angelou

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/m/mayaangelo133956.html#TPSPxKW59858S20V.99

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you"~Maya Angelou

Yes, I have a gift, a God given-talent to write, no matter how many times I deny it.  I have a way with words that react to people (people react to) and now I am ready to share it with you. In writing about myself, my Samoa, Pele Project, I am made aware that in order for the world to know more of our/my stories, FretBook needs me/ I need Facebook. There, I said it. Facebook has captured millions and like moths to the flame we come and join it.  It's free, fast,worldwide and instant.

Perhaps I was a little bit scared of Fretbook, but now that fear has been eradicated. I am not scared of it because Facebook to me is just a tool.  It is a wonderful tool when used wisely, cautiously and correctly.  Facebook does not force us to do anything.  It does not cause our fingers to post silly photos, status, feelings, insecurities, vengeful thoughts of ourselves or other people. I'd rather touch one person's life with the gift that I have been given through this tool than hiding and leaving it too late, dying without using it. 

Facebook is what you make of it.  Be careful of what you post on social websites, who knows?, Bill Gates might wake up one morning and decides that the ''Delete, undo,backspace' buttons will no longer be included for new computers.  The Fretbook guy might have 'ugly, hate, shut up,back off' buttons on his Facebook. That's saying them in a nice way.

Sharing yourself with the world (From FretBook)

So, I shall keep my Fretbook Page until such a time when this author no longer feels like one. Lastly, WE decide what we share with the world. Even when we are tagged by others in unpleasant photos, status etc you can easily untag yourself without using colourful (swear) words, or send an ugly private message that they will forward onto more people and so forth. Samoa is a very very very small world, very being the emphasis here and it's getting smaller everyday with Fretbook, so don't fret, be wise about it. Use it wisely.  My dear blog, will stay and I have to confess I am happy with blogspot because it is less invasive than FretBook.