Telesa - The Covenant Keeper (65 page)

Paifala – Pineapple Pies

(makes 5)

Adapted from
Lily Dayton's recipe

Filling
:

2 cups drained crushed pineapple

1 cup (200g) sugar

½ cup (120ml) milk

⅓ cup (30g) cornstarch

⅓ cup (80ml) syrup from crushed pineapple

Piecrust
:

3 cups (375g) flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

⅓ cup (75g) butter

1 cup (240ml) coconut milk

Pinch salt

Make the filling ahead and give it ample time to cool to room temperature. Simply mix the pineapple, sugar and milk in a saucepan and heat until simmering. Dilute the cornstarch with the pineapple juice and add this to the pineapple mixture. Stir it over low heat for 1-2 minutes until the mixture thickens. Remove from the heat and cool.

For the piecrust, throw everything in a bowl and mix. When it starts to come together, turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and press it together. (If the dough becomes too soft, place in the refrigerator for half an hour until it’s easier to work with.)

Cut your dough into 5 equal pieces. Roll each piece out into an 8” (20cm) circle. Put some of your cooled pineapple filling into the centre. But pay attention to how much you put in - too much and the pie will burst in the oven, too little and people will complain. The recipe above makes just enough for five pies. Lightly wet the edges of the piecrust with water, and then fold one half of the pie over the other. Press the edges together with your fingers or, if you wanna be fancy, with a fork. Pierce the top of the pie several times then bake at 375°F (190°C) for 35-40 minutes until light golden. Remove from the oven and cool.

Big half-moon pies are usually served in thick strips, but since these are only 8” wide, I reckon you could give a hungry Samoan a whole one. Or two.

Paifala – Coconut Cream Pie

(makes a 9 inch (23 cm) round pie or 8 inch (20 cm) square pie)

1 9 inch pre-baked pie crust

½ cup flour

¾ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup + 2 cups milk

4 large egg yolks

1½ teaspoons vanilla essence

1¼ cup flaked coconut

In a saucepan, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt and 1 cup of milk until smooth. Heat it until bubbles form around the edges, then gradually whisk in the remaining 2 cups of milk. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until it’s like a thick, white sauce. Turn the heat off.

In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks with a fork. Add a quarter cup of the sauce and mix well. Add another quarter cup and mix again. Pour the warmed egg yolks into the saucepan and heat, whisking constantly, until the mixture has thickened. Cook for two minutes more while stirring. Remove from the heat and keep warm, stirring occasionally so that film doesn’t form on the top.

Preheat the oven to 190°C (375°F)

Meringue Topping

4 egg whites

¼ cup sugar

¼ cup flaked coconut

Beat the egg whites and sugar until stiff, but not dry. Assemble the pie by pouring the warm filling into the baked pie crust. Top with the meringue (you may not need all of it), sealing to the edges of the crust. Sprinkle with flaked coconut. Bake for 10-15 minutes until the meringue is light golden brown. Cool on a wire rack for an hour and then chill for several hours or overnight before serving.

What is a ‘Malu’? Some Insights

In western cultures, a body tattoo is an object of adornment; in Samoa it is a sacred covenant between the bearer and the earth and community that support him or her. Samoan woman, Zita Sefo-Martel, celebrated fautasi (longboat) skipper, High Consul to France, owner of Polynesian Xplorer, and devoted mother of four young boys, had agreed to receive her
malu
(tattoo) in public from the celebrated master tattooist, Tufuga Ta Tatau Su’a Sulu’ape Petelo – at the 2010 Shanghai Expo. Zita has described the meaning of the event in her own words:

The generic word for tattoo in Samoan is tatau. The
Pe-a
(tattoo for men) or malu (tattoo for women) is not only an eloquent form of living art and a record of ancient navigation and traditional culture, it is also a Samoan's spiritual connection to Mother Earth through the physical pain and personal sacrifice experienced in the act of being tattooed.

The symbolism depicted on a tatau or malu represents a covenant between a Samoan and his or her way of life. It is “O Mea Sina”. It is sacred
.

The word malu means protect, shelter, security. Malu also means house. The woman is therefore seen in Samoan culture as the protector and shelter of the children, the family, and the village. She is the giver of bloodlines.
The symbols of the malu etched on the woman reflect the many roles of the woman in Samoan society. The malu is applied starting from the knees and working up to and finishing at the top of the thighs.
From the
DestiCorp 2.0 Tourism/Travel Site
: Where Leaders in Travel and Tourism Go To Think. By Anna Pollock.

My Culture, My Malu – A discussion from Sisilia Eteuati,
Teine Samoa Blogger,
Australia

I have a malu. An
'au
has bitten my skin and indelible black marks remain to tell the tale. I don't hide this. In fact, on any given day in Sydney, you can see a Samoan woman heading into work in a conservative grey suit, and you may not look twice or notice the
vae'ali
, which crawl down below the back of her knees, signifying her service, both past and future, her
tautua,
and symbolising that it is on this service of the untitled- the
aualuma
and the
aumag
a, that the
matai
rest.

So while I was not in Samoa for the recent 50th Independence celebrations, when I recently read a
well written article
by Sita Leota, in the
Samoa Observer, 17 June 2012
, which shared her opinion about when, and how, one should display the malu, I felt compelled to reply.

Albert Wendt writes beautifully and I love
his line
"
There are no 'true interpreters' or 'sacred guardians' of any culture. We are all entitled to our truths, insights, intuitions into and interpretations of our cultures
." I don't deny Sita, nor any of the other Samoans who are/were in furious agreement, the right to interpret our culture. I do however, take serious issue with the imposition of that interpretation on others.

The article sets out "
when you are tattooed as a female, the first rule has always been that you don't display your malu in public unless you are in full traditional Samoan wear about to dance the siva Samoa or in a ta'alolo
." Is that really what the first rule has always been?

The truth is that the art of tatau was almost lost to colonisation and to Christianity. The missionaries were not overly fond of tatau. Whether it was because they literally interpreted Leviticus, because they saw this cultural practice as possible pagan competition, or simply because they saw it as "
the mark of the savage
", tattooing was so successfully discouraged throughout the Pacific, that of all our Polynesian brothers and sisters, only Samoa managed to maintain this "
mea sina
". Even today there are
calls
for the churches to be more accepting of tatau.

Not so coincidentally, colonisation and Christianity also had a major impact on our clothing or lack thereof. Now I like the
mu'umu'u
as much as the next woman, who has experienced the sauna that Samoa can be, they're lovely and cool, and they cover a multitude of sins and possibility for sinning, which, of course, was the idea. That said, they are a reflection of just how the church viewed women and their bodies (or more accurately, how they didn't want people to view women's bodies).

Sita quotes Albert Wendt when entreating and exhorting those of us who have malu to "
protect it, shade it, cover it
". Somewhat ironically, it is the eminent Professor Wendt who sets out in the same
article
that "
Being clothed (lavalava) had little to do with clothes or laei. In pre-Papalagi times, to wear nothing above the navel was not considered 'nakedness.' To 'clothe' one's arse and genitals was enough
." Isn't it likely that the church's traditional position on tattooing, on women, and on covering up, has something to do with the compulsion to (or more accurately in the case of this article), to tell others to cover the malu? It may be that traditionally women covered to below the knee before they went under the 'au, and indeed, many contend that was the reason for the malu - to clothe. The fact that women show malu when they are "
in full traditional Samoan wear about to dance the siva Samoa or in a ta'alolo
", i.e. in our most traditional of activities, reflects that women traditionally
showed
their malu, that "
the malu for women ...[was] considered 'clothing,' the most desired and highest-status clothing anyone could wear." (Tatauing the post-colonial body; Albert Wendt)

I'm proud of the fact that our culture is a living, breathing culture. I accept it adapts and adopts. Obviously Christianity is an important part of our culture -
Fa'avae i le Atua Samoa
. So I can accept an argument that our culture changed with Christianity to incorporate covering the malu. In a living and breathing culture, things change. But if it did change then, can't it change now? Can't Samoan women display their malu now, as their ancestors did, without being subject to an opinion piece?

Sita takes umbridge with what she considers is using the malu as a "
fashion accessory
". Again Wendt insightfully says, "
much of what has been considered 'decoration' or 'adornment' by outsiders is to do with identity (individual/aiga/group), status, age, religious beliefs, relationships to other art forms and the community, and not to do with prettying yourself
." It may be that one does not agree with displaying the malu, it is another thing altogether to say that just because one displays the malu, they don't do it out of "
any sense of belonging, of culture, of being Samoan
" as Sita asserts.

Sita writes that the definition of malu is ‘
to be protected
'. But it can also mean "
to protect
". As Zita Sefo-Martel puts it "
The woman is therefore seen in Samoan culture as the protector of the children, the family, and the village. She is the giver of bloodlines."
I am a strong Samoan woman. I have a malu and I can protect what is mine - my malu, and my culture. I do not need an article in the Samoa Observer to guide me, to tell me when and how, I can display my malu, and I very much doubt, any other Samoan woman does either.

O le malu o le laei o tamaitai Samoa.