So… I’m not sure if it was my plight to strengthen my thigh muscles and the threat of shame in being beat by 60+ year olds in aqua, or whether joking about strengthening thighs so the tools break due to muscly thighs, or even a way of seeing what ink colour might look like on my thighs, but through the simple act of picking up sunnies I dropped on the ground, I pulled my hammy on the right.

My first thought was, woo hoo a few days off from work, my second, oh crap, does my hammy need to completely heal before I can get my malu and will it heal in 10 weeks?

I just took a photo to share what pulling a hammy looks like. In comparison to injuring my knee, this is nothing.

As an eternal optimist, I prefer to see this is an obscure way, that it is a way to see what my thighs may look like with a bit of ink colour😂😂. In reality, I hear the whispers in the wind to respect the malu.

Day 2

Day 5

Day 7

Day 12

So it’s 10 weeks to go until the week of getting the malu.  My cousin who we’ll be soa for each other are messaging back and forth just our slight anticipation of how we’ll go, in good humour of course. 

Jokes aside, I am considering how to prepare myself spiritually, mentally and physically.

Spiritually.  O lea e kau koa le loko.  Translation: I’m trying to harden up.  So, to prepare myself spiritually, a few things come to mind that I think might help me.

1. Music/ songs.  I wonder, will they sing the song/ songs?  This will help my soul feel at ease.  There is a song the tufugas sing which once again, tells the story of how the tattoo arrived in Samoa.  For me, music is my go to.  My work consists of data, coding and configurations, boring to some, but I loves it.  Listening to music while I work is pure bliss.   Reggae soothes my soul so hopefully they do it island way and play some reggae while my cousin and I are getting our malu.
2. Aitu (spirits/ ghosts)?  I genuinely wonder whether I am susceptible to them while getting the malu?  While I’m not sure, because of my grandfather’s before me, family and myself, I know I am covered by the blood of Jesus. 

Mentally.  This is more than just me.  A few things I am mindful of;

1. No matter what, it’s gonna hurt, that is a given
2. I have to see it through to the end
3. To get to the end, it may take 5 to 6 hours

So I am preparing for the long hours and anticipating the pain.  All I think is, it is a means to an end and it will be temporary in the scheme of things. 

Physically.  This has been the most hilarious preparation to date.  Let’s be honest, I love beer and I love food (I seriously recall a lot of memories with food) and clearly this shows.  So, I’ve been jokingly saying to my mum I’m working out so the tattoo implement breaks once it touches my muscly thighs (auuuuu). 

Seriously though, due to not listening to my dad in the past (playing rugby when he said girls shouldn’t play rugby), I injured my knee and those who know me know, I’m a tom boy at heart.  Can you blame me with brothers immediately after me and only allowed to go anywhere if my brother/s were there (even though he/ they were 2 years younger than I) and all they wanted to do is play sport.  So I love my sport.  Well now aqua aerobics is my sport to continue to strengthen my knee.  I recently discovered mid-week (Wednesday) aqua boot camp with a male instructor who doesn’t let me and the oldies (pensioners, on average, 60+ year olds) stop to take a break sometime.  There is nothing worse than seeing one of the oldies out do you in water aerobics.  So, I’ve been going hard out in aqua, scissor kicking under water as hard and fast as I can hoping to tone the thigh muscles.  All I seem to be toning is the family trademark calf muscles (A’e!). 

So yeah, 10 weeks to go and just continuing with my prepping.  My poor mother, father, cousin and aunty.  They are the chosen few I go to if something random pops into my head leading up to the malu.  I called dad today on whether there were any taboos to be mindful of.  Well, he made me feel like a chastised child again saying “you just listen to the tufuga and do what he says, that’s all you need to do”.  Never too old for a good old fashion lesson on respect aye?  Respect the art, respect the process and respect the protocols.  I think I’m getting there, spiritually and mentally.  Physically is a work in progress. 

Space invaders, just to play further on these words. Is it just me or if you look at a malu from afar, turn your head to the side and squint your eyes a bit, the patterns might start looking like the old school arcade game, Space Invaders? This appeals to my inner geek (which I recently and begrudgingly have come to terms with).

Ask my family. I’ve calmed down in recent years but, arcade/ video games and I have had an unhealthy relationship. I named my only dog (may she rest in peace, miss you my darling girl) after the first game I clocked on the Sega, Shadow Warrior. Shadow was Aussie born, Samoan raised, all she knew was Samoan commands, I miss her heaps, sorry digressing again.

I took a day off from work to clock Super Mario Bros on the original Wii. So the whole play on the words “space invaders” which I have referenced in this blog to date, first with my siblings’ kids (who have no concept of personal space, space invaders) and now the malu kind of looking like a space invaders game is eerily peaceful to me.

Seriously through, googsearching what the markings on a malu mean brings home the weight of my decision because now I’m getting intimately involved with the meaning of the symbols and motifs in a malu.

What I love about what I’ve googsearched so far is, the relationship to the earth, everything is related to life, tangible and free. Whether it be the stars or waves, even the humble worm and annoying seagulls, all of mother nature. Is this reflective of the role of the female? Protector of mother earth and of family? Hmmm… the mind ponders. Ironically poetic, I’m childless, yet through the malu, becomes a protector/ shelter for the family. Deep right?

So I’m really looking forward to the story my malu will tell.

The downside of googsearch? Too much information. I read up on the experience of 3 women and one described that when it got to getting her malu around the knees it felt like “…smashing knees against rocks…”.

🤯😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯😱

To counter this I think to myself, it’s five hours of pain for such an honour and, this is your life’s journey Louie for you and your family.

This repeats over and over in my head each time I fear the road ahead, thus giving me the strength to keep going forward. I actually wasn’t sure if I’m allowed to cry while I get my malu, so I rang dad and asked my genuine question. I can still hear him laughing at me over the phone, so I guess that’s a “no”.

Apparently, malu means protector/ shelter. I find this quite empowering as I am all about protecting my family.

Growing up, I would always put myself between a threat and my siblings. I have demonstrated this consistently from fighting my brother’s battles in primary school to just a few years ago by taking on a mother who just wouldn’t let my sister and her daughter play out their physical netball game on the court. She, the mother approached my sister and chested up to her. All I was thinking was, not on my watch and while positioning myself between my sister and this mother, I was thinking, how the heck do I throw a punch if I have to?

I’ve never been in a fight where I’ve had to punch, just pushing that’s it. So if it got physical, I’m sure my pushing would be effective enough in a fight right? Well, at least I hoped so. Good news is, I didn’t need my pushing fighting skills. I think my Samoan siva tau (war dance) look was scary enough.

In year 7, first year of high school, I got into a fight (I was pushing him) with the year 7 nerd because he said something about my family. Three things I learnt that day;

1. A girl getting into a fight (pushing) with a boy in year 7, no one messes with her for the rest of her high school years,

2. There are two sides to every story and the most valuable lesson was,

3. Shame and humility. Turns out the other boys in my year level knew how protective I was of my family and made up the story so my shame was my humility.

Most recently, around October (what a month that was!) I had a day with my personal space invader nephews where for lunch, we found ourselves at a tavern-like place. It was great, the best of both worlds. The boys could go play at the playground while Aunty Isa (my nieces and nephews name for me) had a beer or two.

I was on my first beer and at sip number 3, I see a woman talking and pointing, pointing her finger at my two 4 and 5 year old nephews (her first mistake). I saw red. I calmly put my beer down (her second mistake, interrupting my beer) and walked over to my boys. Bless kids at that age right? They just tell it how it is, especially my nephews (kudos to my sisters). As I approached, the woman was hurriedly trying to explain what was going on. I didn’t say a thing to her, just placed myself between her and the boys, turned my back on her and asked the boys what happened. They told a totally different version of the woman’s story. I turned to the woman, pointed, yes pointed my finger at her and told her “you don’t tell off my boys“. I turned my back on her, to get the boys, we had to pass her, as we marched back to our table, I may have shouldered past her. I got them a softdrink each and a second beer for myself. Walked back to the table, sculled my first beer and just stayed in the moment with the boys distracting them with funnies every boy (of all ages for that matter) enjoys, that is anything fart related, all the while nursing my second beer.

So, that’s the literal sense of protection, however, what I’m finding is, I’m also protecting knowledge of our family history and stories as these are passed on from my parents, bit by bit which started over the last few years.

When I was younger older Samoans would always ask what is your mum’s/ dad’s village? I didn’t realise how loaded this question was. I now understand that knowing the village, tells the history of your identity. Such a beautiful thing.

So lately I’ve been mindful to learn my dad’s village, my paternal grandmother’s village, my paternal grandfather’s village on his mum’s side (great-grandmother), my paternal great-grandfather’s village, my mum’s village, my maternal grandfather’s village and maternal grandmother’s village as well. This allows associations to form and knowledge of family ties and kin ensure you know who your family is and if anything else, you don’t end up dating a distant cousin… not gonna happen to me.

So, does getting the malu validate my life to date in protecting my family? Yes, I feel that it does and of course I will continue to do so. So the smashed rocks against my knee feeling may be my destiny after all.

In an age where information is at our fingertips, googsearch (google search, aka research) and you tube have been great tools to assist with my plight to learn more about the malu and my culture. Here are a few things Google has enlightened me with;

A). I need to get a malu with another person, known as a soa. Well, actually, this was mum not google (moogle)?. Mum highlighted this when I initially told her about getting the malu, she even offered to get a taulima (arm band) while I get my malu. I was thinking, nawww thanks mum you’re the bestest, but you had 8 kids and you’re just getting a taulima (armband)? A’e.

B). Tufuga is the name given to the tattooist. The legend of the tattoo getting to Samoa identified that there are only two families who received the tools for tattooing, one in Savai’i and one in Upolu. The latter island, such honour was bestowed upon the Suluape family.

C). Legend also has it that the two girls who brought tattooing to Samoa were from Fiji. My hair is from Fiji on mum’s side, coincidence? I think not (ha ha ha)

D). It is up to the tufuga on the design of your malu. Please sir, make mine unique like me.

E). The markings in the malu represent something. Something to googsearch further.

F). There are not many female tufuga. So I’ll be tattooed by a male the traditional way, tap…tap….tap with another two or three men holding/ stretching the skin. What a great segue to talk about me and my personal space.

Everyone who knows me, my family, mates and work colleagues know how much I love my personal space. About half a meter around me is how close people can get before I start feeling uncomfortable. So two things have helped me get to half a metre (before it was at least a metre).

1. Being an Aunty – kids know NOTHING about personal space. Much to the amusement of my sisters when they see their children invade my personal space. Its like a point to them in the never ending, no matter how old we get sibling competition game we all play called, “Oh Shame”.

2. A shout out to my wonderful friend, she knows who she is. Due to her generosity and quite possibly being a psychologist as well, I was (though not her first choice) the mate who got lucky to take up a spot available on a cruise to NZ with her, her 14 year old son and his 13 year old mate. My mate really pushed me beyond my comfort zone.

i). For the 4 of us, our sleeping quarters was a room probably 3x7mtrs, our single beds were my body width apart. So everyone knew your business, ain’t no where to hide.

ii). I had to change into a wetsuit in a 3x3mtr room with 6 other women. Nothing worse for a person fiercely private than another woman with no scruples, stripping right in front of her… I can talk about it now, so trauma may have been short-lived.

So, as you can see, this helped me work through my personal space issues. There is still some ways to go, but what’s to say the process of getting the malu will help heal this innate need to have a barrier up?

Well, I truly have no choice but to take a cup of cement as the date is set for Saturday 27 April at my Aunty Temu’s house in Vaivase. My cousin (Aunty Temu’s daughter) we’ll be soa together and our tufuga is Faalili Suluape, cousin to Paul.

So while I’m excited, I’m just as nervous. Now to practicing taking cups of cement… to harden up ha ha ha. No, to prepare my mind, body, spirit and practice my breathing (thanks Ina for the tip).

My family (aiga) is like most Samoan families, tight knit. What a great analogy to explain our relationship within our family. Let’s use the ie toga (fine mat used in ceremonial events, weddings, deaths, church etc) as an example. We start off individual, yet as a Samoan child our lives with our aiga is interwoven, just like an ie toga, each individual string creates a beautiful ie toga. If one piece is unravelled, the ie is no longer beautiful. This is why family is everything, keep the ie toga beautiful for generations to come. Sorry I digress again. So back to telling the fam bam.

I’m one of 8 children to my parents, 7 surviving (3 boys and 4 of us girls). No matter what the circumstance we have rallied together supporting each other always. Before sharing my news, my soul said to me, Loucan, if anyone openly objects and is not supportive, sorry buddy, it’s not your time for a malu.

The morning of my awakening, I decided to tell mum and dad first before telling the siblings. Mum was the first and after her usual, scrunched up nose, furrowed brow and “ea? (huh?)”. I went on to explain my cry to dad the night before, she listened, was quite understanding and was immediately thinking of other women who got it done and saying I should speak to this person and that person… and she’ll find out from this person… and that person. I told mum I didn’t want anyone outside of our immediate family to know. This got me another scrunched up nose, furrowed brow look. I explained that I didn’t want anyone to know because it was none of their business. In reality I didn’t want the judgement from others and maybe because I was sobering up and common sense started to settle again, I thought, just in case I chickened out (ha ha ha ha).

Approaching dad was not too bad because I already knew where he stood regarding us girls getting a malu, unless dad was just saying that not expecting one of us to actually listen, as usual (ha ha ha). Dad’s response was, “good you can talk to your Aunty Temu (his youngest sister) when she comes in November”. All I was thinking was “Oh no Aunty Temu, how do I explain and justify to the family hammer, that I, raised outside (of Samoa) wanted a malu”.

Fa’afetai mum and dad o oulua lava ua mafai ai ona ou saili ma tuli nei mana’o.

I received mixed reviews from my siblings. Three were outright supportive, the other three were also supportive and to their credit shared my initial view “ka muamua le guku fa’akoā ka laia lou pe’a/ malu.” Loosely translated means, learn the culture, how to speak it, before you get a malu or pe’a. So I explained to them that dad said it would follow me wherever I go. The oldest of us, my brother living in Tampa, was, out of all of us raised more with the culture. Not to deviate, my brother was raised by my uncle who couldn’t have children with his wife. Remember the ie toga analogy above? This is another example of our lives, interwoven with each other.

My brother’s father was well known for his knowledge of the Fa’aSamoa. So taking on my brother’s fautuaga (advice) to learn the culture more was received with stubborn gratitude and acknowledgement (on my part). My brother made me look at this decision seriously. Which I did. I reflected again to the whys and even suggested to my brother he get his pe’a and I’ll be his soa. My brother was honest and said he wasn’t ready. I got it and understood his reasons. Secretly I was thinking, clearly he needs to get drunk, have an ugly cry on dad’s shoulder and wake up with the same epiphany as me to be ready! Duh! So, my soul was at ease with my decision when my brothers and sisters confirmed their support.

Thank you to all my siblings for being true, blunt, honest and supportive.

The only other two people I wanted to share this with were, my cousin who is a rock always with our family and dad’s youngest sister, Aunty Temu. My cousin was supportive and suggested bringing it forward to December so we can be eachother’s soa as she and her family were heading to Samoa over December. This was not possible but she said she supported me. Thanks cuz always!

Aunty Temu. A woman befitting for her own section in my blog. The first time I met Aunty Temu in person was in 2008 when she came from Samoa for Uncle Eddie’s funeral. My Aunt was serving the Lord with her husband in Manono when he passed years ago. So Aunty Temu was a Faletua (formal reference for a Minister’s wife). The two or so weeks Aunty Temu was here for Uncle Eddie’s funeral, I saw a different side to dad, dad demonstrated the true Fa’aSamoa relationship of brothers to their sisters. In addition, a subsequent impromptu visit to Samoa in 2015 when I was made redundant, I got to see Aunty Temu’s no nonsense, get things done or else, hence my earlier reference to “hammer.”

I knew if I needed someone’s blessing and support for my decision, it was Aunty Temu. God makes things happen right? So he gave me a day to broach the subject with Aunty Temu face-to-face. You see in November 2018, on her way to visit Aunty Keleka in Melbourne (who was in palliative care at the hospital), her flight was to Brisbane. So I took a sickie the day she was here. Man was I nervous! I had one day to talk to her about it. So I started to tell her. Her first reaction was, “A’e (exasperated expression) why do you want to do that for” so I repeated the whole drunken cry decision making process. I also explained, “Aunty, I don’t have kids, this is for me, no one can take this from me.” I further explained, “Aunty you know me, I’m not doing it to be a show-off”. I must have a way with words or maybe it’s the “I don’t have kids” line but, ua lagona I lo’u loto (I felt it in my soul) Aunty Temu was cool with it.

I learnt a valuable lesson here, clearly I should try out the whole “I don’t have kids” line in other facets of my life and see what I can get away with (not much I suspect, ha ha ha). Fa’afetai Aunty, for being the strong loving woman you are. I hope one day when I walk in my workplace everyone will fear me too (ha ha ha). If you did not support this, I still would have accepted your decision, no complaints.

The last and most recent people I shared with was my cousin and his wife. I ironically met my cousin’s wife before I met him. My cousin’s wife and I have known each other since the 1990s being one of the very few Samoan families in the area we hung out during that time. After recently embarking on her own journey in getting a malu she has been great in providing tips on moving forward, like getting in contact with the Suluapes quick smart if I wanted a malu around my 40th in April. Fa’afetai uso mo fautuaga e sauni fa’alelei le loto ma lo’u mafaufau. Thank you sis for your advice to prepare myself mentally and spiritually.

I found that during my sharing with everyone my decision to get a malu, the line I kept on repeating and further explains the ‘why’ was …”I haven’t gone through the pains of childbirth, so maybe I can take this pain for my culture”. It was part of the epiphany, not able to have children is something I accepted a long time ago, so in my head, getting a malu was my way of earning something for me.

Like who wants to voluntarily inflict pain on themselves for their culture? Clearly a lot of us. At this stage, I only knew of 3 people with a malu, a lady from Newcastle, when we lived there in the 80s, and two women from church, mother and daughter. I had only seen the daughter’s malu. As I’ve looked into it since my decision, there is clearly a resurgence in the art and people choosing to get one which is fantastic!! I just hope it’s for the right reasons. I wonder if they went through the same decision making process as I did. Get rip roaring drunk, ugly cry to your dad and then wake up enlightened with their decision?

So with blessings and support from my family, I’m now waiting for Paul Suluape in Samoa to confirm his availability in April.

The decision to get a malu was a result of a combination of events in October 2018.

1. A tusigaigoa (fundraising event) for my mum’s dad’s village. During this event I witnessed, among the number of trays of food contributing to our increased health risk factors (sorry that could be another blog), I saw and heard my cousin own her role e sula toga (verbal, poetic response when giving/ receiving fine mats – shot cuz Kumi). I understood bits of what she was saying but I was in awe. Made me ashamed not knowing. This shame, awakened my soul.

2. Unfortunately the death of our old Minister, who I was blessed to see and chat to just a few days before he passed and his final piece of advice to me was that I should find another man (he married me and my ex-husband, we separated 7 years ago). From his advice which I jokingly responded to with a “No way” and in addition to being part of the cultural protocols and customs we all take part in during this period of mourning, this awakened my soul.

3. Mum and dad’s church youth group were recently given the task of providing a presentation about the pe’a and malu which they completed just a few weeks before my chat with dad.

Dad, 2 of my sisters and I were chatting and I asked him about the malu (pre-drinks), he explained the history of how tattooing got to Samoa. As we were chatting, I sought dad’s opinion on how he would feel if one of his daughters got a malu (there are 4 of us girls and I’m up to drink number 5 by now). Dad said he would be so proud but if we wanted a malu we had to get it in Samoa. I raised my concerns about what was quickly evident to me, that despite the fact I only speak Samoan to my parents, uncles, aunties and oldies in general, I still had a lot to learn about my culture. Dad’s response was, you get a malu, the culture will follow you everywhere you go. This awakened my soul.

4. Later this same day, I drunkenly cried on my dad’s shoulder, lamenting that all I had was my work and my sisters’ kids (drink number… lost count). My dad did all he could as a father watching his eldest 39 year old daughter bawling her eyes out, he just let me cry it out. I went to bed feeling relieved for my dad and hoping as I closed my eyes, the room would stop spinning. Whilst falling into a drunken slumber, peace and relief filled my soul. It was like my crying cleared out the melancholy energy I had carried for goodness knows how long. I was clearly way overdue for an ugly cry, sorry dad you were the lucky one that got to see it.

I woke up the next day and through the pulsing headache from drinking irresponsibly, this was completely dull in comparison to the epiphany that awakened my soul as my eyes opened… I turn 40 next year, I don’t want a party, I want a malu, for me, something I can own, for me.

5. January 2019 – Yet another death, this time much closer to home. My aunt (dad’s older sister) succumbed to cancer and is now in peace with no more pain. Whilst there wasn’t much Fa’aSamoa (Samoan way) customs or protocol to observe, I realised I had a role in the family. My time with my extended family including aunts, uncles and cousins cemented my resolve. I had peace in my soul with my want for a malu. It wasn’t just for me it was for me and my family.

So, that’s how this all came about.

Have a blessed day, much love, Loucan.

Manuia le aso, alofa atu, Lukegi.

Hi! Talofa Lava and welcome to my blog charting my journey to get a malu. The malu is a Samoan female tattoo from the upper thighs to just under the knee.

I started this blog primarily because I’ve always wanted to blog about something and up until now, I truly haven’t had anything of essence to talk about. Now I do.

Just so you know, this blog is my outlet, so any words, phrases or references I make that cause you offense please know, it is not intended and welcome your comments/ corrections with gentle non-angry or hurtful words. We may not share the same views or opinions but this is a journey for me. Much the same reason why I’ve started this blog. For Me. Also the reason I have decided to get a malu. For me.

I’ll try a weekly blog just to share with you my journey of learning more about my culture and the journey to get my malu.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.