Fagogo. The art of story-telling. The oral tradition of Samoa, the ground-breaking 1994 novel Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel, and now its brilliant stage-adaptation by Dave Armstrong.  The Otago Festival of the Arts has shown excellent judgement in securing this for us: as the Pasifika population of the South grows, the need to share the stories, the privileged insight into other cultures, is increasingly urgent.

Not that experiencing this production feels like a duty: it is pure delight. Exuberantly performed on the simplest of sets by sixteen fabulous young actors and musicians, artfully blending tragedy and comedy, it holds the audience spellbound for ninety exciting minutes.

Figiel wrote her challenging novel because there seemed to be no voice for Samoan women, and Armstrong has been shrewd in giving the play narrative coherence by basing it even more firmly on the experience of one girl, Alofa, whose name means love.  Alofa acts as narrator too, so that descriptive passages can be incorporated, along with the lively dialogue and beautifully choreographed choral work that reveals a whole community at work, church, school and play.

Each scene is a delightful vignette on its own, from the comically suggested bus ride to the vivid, bustling Apia market; the blue-lit supernatural stories of the ancestors; the charming flirting between the boys and girls; and the thrilling discovery of actual cornflakes at a palagi’s house, almost overshadowing the shock of the dirty magazine hidden behind. The church scenes are a revelation, climaxing in a funny and unforgettable interpretation of the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

Other highlights include the school episodes, with the mean jandal-wielding Mrs Samasoni (“Don’t you look at my toenails!”) forming a hilarious contrast to earnest Peace-Corp teacher Miss Cunningham. She urges them to write about “I, not we,” while the naughty boys scheme to peek at her breasts. There is no I in Samoa, the children explain, only We. Individuality is not permitted.

Alofa is growing to womanhood in the 1970s, when the Samoan way of life is threatened by Western capitalism and Western religion. Coca-cola replaces coconut, the church’s rules are crippling, especially for girls, television represents an enchanted world, and New Zealand streets must be paved with gold. Still the hierarchy of the family is all-important. Alofa’s mother is bullied by her mother-in-law, and Alofa is cruelly beaten by her father.  The saddest story involves Siniva, who returned from New Zealand radicalised, only to be crushed by her community.

This violence is deeply disturbing, the more so for being acted with such compelling conviction, underscored by the drums.  Chilling lines appal, like, “To beat a child is to show her respect, to love her.”  Shame too is a terrible weapon. Yet the dark undercurrents of the story are swept away by the humour and zest for life, and the most lasting memories are of the children’s mischief and joy, the readiness to break into music and dance, and the smiles that are tiny explosions.

When Figiel was asked whether she was exposing her culture by bringing to the surface repressed or taboo subjects, she replied, “There will always be people who don’t want to hear unpleasant truths…the only solution, if there is one, is to write and to write well.” I like to think it is partly because of her writing that the young women of Samoa are less vulnerable than they were.

Originally commissioned by Auckland Theatre Company (note to teachers: ATC Associate Director and ex-Dunedinite Lynne Cardy has provided a terrific teaching resource for it), Where We Once Belonged is now performed by alumni of the Pacific Institute of Performing Arts, and is a great advertisement for their course.

The mime in particular is impeccable, even to the wriggling under a fence. The cast is in truth an ensemble, which is why I name no actors. They are all fantastic. Dressed alike in black t-shirts and colourful lavalava which by a twist can suggest different characters, the actors manage to be both individuals and incredibly disciplined in their group work, especially the gorgeous action singing.

This is a play which well deserves the accolades. It should not only be seen but also performed by our young people as they learn to understand each other, for it is as illuminating as it is entertaining. 

Armstrong need not have been concerned about whether, as a palagi, he is the right choice to adapt Figiel’s work.  He says: “Sia Figiel describes the su’ifefiloi form as like a lei made up of different flowers (stories). I’ve taken that lei and thrown out a couple of flowers, and rearranged the remaining flowers into a straight line, but hopefully people will still think the flowers look and smell wonderful.”

They do. Truly wonderful!

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Where We Once Belonged has been adapted for the stage by well-known playwright Dave Armstrong from Sia Figiel’s 1996 novel of the same name, and is brought to the Festival of the Arts by Armstrong Creative.

It has little in common with all-smiles tourist posters or fiafia nights in Samoan hotels. The focus is on village life, specifically that of the Apia village of Malaefou.

The action is episodic rather than plot-driven, and covers many aspects of Samoan life: the power and cohesiveness of the family, the benign and destructive aspects of palagi culture, the contradictory nature of education and the oppressive role of the church. A versatile cast of 17, including three musicians, bring vitality to an infinite number of roles, including that of the main character, schoolgirl Alofa (Suivai Autagavaia), as she tries to navigate conflicting paths and restrictions and have fun at the same time.

For me, the most interesting scenes were in a school classroom where the soft, individualistic approach of Miss Cunningham, the Peace Corps teacher (Melissa Banse), contrasts irreconcilably with the routine brutality of Mrs Samasoni (Elaine Tipi); and a White Sunday scene where children eagerly, slyly and hilariously act out the story of the Prodigal Son.

Almost all of the dialogue is in English, but there is a little Samoan. The play makes few concessions to a palagi audience. If, for example, you don’t comprehend why a pillowcase might have “Jesus is the reason” embroidered on it, and why it might be a privilege to sleep on it, no explanation is provided.

Irreverent and exuberant, Where We Once Belonged celebrates Samoan life and culture while revealing darker, violent undercurrents. Recommended.  

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In Theatreview’s 2010 review of the Pacific Institute of Performing Arts’s graduation production of this play, reviewer Victor Rodger proclaimed: “Where We Once Belonged deserves to have another life. If it comes to a town near you, make sure you go.” Well, here’s your chance. The production has a new life – out West, nonetheless – running from 23-26 August at Glen Eden’s lovely Playhouse Theatre as part of this year’s Going West festival.

Exuberant, hilarious and humane, this production of Dave Armstrong’s adaptation of Sia Figiel’s Commonwealth prize-winning novel held the audience from beginning to end, at times eliciting the explosions of laughter (delighted, slightly hysterical laughter of recognition) that promise the audience will go home glowing.

Set in the village of Maleafou in Samoa, the play introduces us to Alofa, a girl on the cusp of adolescence, and to Alofa’s community, which like her is grappling with tensions between globalisation and tradition, and with issues of authority, conformity and loyalty.

The fourteen actors create the entire community of Maleafou – from the chaotic market to the pious church, from the hopelessly new-age schoolteacher to the highly educated but disillusioned social recluse – with remarkable and unwavering energy.

With a minimal set and subtle lighting the actors create Alofa’s world using physical theatre almost exclusively. The trio of musicians (Safa Taouma, Aisea Latu and Italia Hunt) use percussion and guitar to build tension, transition us between scenes, and buoy along the play’s momentum. And when the cast sings, the harmonies make the hairs on your arms stand up and can instantly shift the tone from hilarity and caricature to sincerity and redemptiveness.

The protagonist, Alofa, (Suivai Autagavaia) has excellent foils in her friends Moa and Lily (Litea Aholelei and Joanna Toloa); the boldness with which they play their characters highlights the thoughtful understatedness of Alofa’s character.

With so much of the early action – particularly the group scenes – ebullient and irreverent, I wondered how the darker elements of the play would be woven in. Ultimately, the tone is shifted quite subtly: the threat and execution of violence, the power adults have over children, the oppressiveness of an introduced religion and the bleakness of being isolated from your culture or community are seeded early in lighter, more humorous scenarios. As the play progresses these themes are played out with greater menace. Whereas the violence of Elaine Tipi’s fantastic jandal-slapping Mrs Samasoni is paradoxically both shocking and funny, inducing gales of (nervous?) laughter, the violence upon which the play ends is more sobering.

One of the underlying threads in this play is the tension between the individual and the group. When your identity is rooted so deeply in groups – the family, the church, the community – what role does individuality play? I loved how the dominance of communal, collective identity was evoked in the play’s full-cast scenes where the actors shed individual character identities and, like schooling fish, form something like one organism: a classroom, a congregation, a bustling market.

This is certainly not a tightly plotted ‘well-made’ play. Like its cast of characters, the play is multi-voiced, unfolding in vignettes that pose more questions than they resolve rather than in a linear storyline focused on a single event. This means that character development is necessarily limited. But were the arc of a single character to dominate, we would probably be less awake to the role of the community itself as character.

The play ends with a climax, but not really a resolution; there is death, but not necessarily redemption; there are more interesting relationships and backstories established than could ever be fully explored.

Perhaps, though, this is ultimately what makes Where We Once Belonged a real coming-of-age play: growing up means beginning to see the world in increasing layers of complexity. During this play the audience – along with Alofa – are shown her world in its contrasts, contradictions and complexities.  

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer