Massacre Bay

     What kind of name is that for a beautiful bay and beach on this exotic tropical isle?  I'll tell you.

     In 1787 a couple French Navy ships passed by here; Samoa at the time was known as the Navigator Islands (don't know why) and few European ships or people had touched on any of them.  These ships needed water and some provisions, so they saw this bay had a nice stream and stopped.  They landed some men, and some Samoans boated out to the ships.  Well, one of the Samoan men more or less helped himself to something belonging to the ship and was caught.  To the French it was stealing; to the Samoans, it was how they lived - if you need something, it became a gift to you - they had no real concept of stealing as we understand it.  The French beat (quite possibly hanged) the Samoan and returned him to the shore.  However it happened, he died.  This aroused the Samoan anger and they sent word around to other villages.  Next day, when the French boats landed again for water, they were attacked.  Twelve French sailors were killed, as well as a number of Samoans.  The surviving French took to their ships and hustled out of there.

     About a hundred years later a French missionary pieced together the story from the oral history of the Samoans.  His work eventually led to a monument at the bay where this happened.  Since the Samoans had no written language at the time, and in any event the Europeans wrote the histories and maps, the place ever since has been labeled Massacre Bay.  The monument names the French sailors who were killed (note there are 11 names - the other guy seems to have been omitted - Samoan legend has it he got away and stayed here).  Here it is:

     Every year on the anniversary the French send a frigate out from Tahiti to visit American Samoa.  The ship goes around to the monument and conducts a memorial service there.

     A group of us hiked down there last Saturday.  Photographs this trip are courtesy of Cyndi.  We were told it was a rugged hike, but rugged isn't the right word.  Nasty, sweaty, slippery all come to mind.  The maps show an old 4-wheel drive trail down there.  It exists, but has been abandoned for years now.  It is overgrown with weeds, vines, trees, anything that you can find in a tropical jungle is now on that path.  We drove way up the mountain in the center of the island to a village named A'asufou, 1340 feet above sea level.  There we found a farm, with a field and of all things some cows - the only ones on the island, I think.  Here they are:

     The farm has interesting decorations lining its driveway:

Yup.  Bowling pins as driveway edging.

      We left the car at the farm and hiked a short way up the road until it ended.  Or seemed to end - it was overgrown with weeds.  A friendly neighbor assured us that was the path, so we plunged in.  She was right, the "path" (if you can call this thing a path) led us 2 1/2 downhill miles later to Massacre Bay.   Here's the path - did I mention it was raining for about 15 minutes and everything, I mean everything, was all wet? - these were taken going up but you will get the idea:

Trail entry.  This after 7 people came through twice.

Somewhere in there is a trail.

Me, Rick, marching uphill.

Joe, on the trail, almost hidden by jungle.

Trees across the trail.  Lots of these.

Just off the beach, trail goes between those two trees.

     Two hours later of slipping and sliding through this we finally came to Massacre Bay.  Here are some photos of this beautiful bay of sand and coral, and jungle down to the shore:

Beach looking east

Beach looking west

Up the coast to the next bay

Out to sea

Joe and Sarah cooling off

Jungle down to the shore

     We had lunch, swam, and then met the only residents here, Jim and Marie.  Jim is a retired palagi who met and married Marie his Samoan wife.  All this is her family property.  The village here (called A'asutuai or A'asu) was abandoned some 30 years ago after a cyclone, and also because there was no decent road here so the people more or less drifted away.  Jim and Marie came down here last year and started to clear out the jungle, which had taken over, in an effort to build a place for a few families to live.  They get supplies once a month or so, by boat.  Jim was happy to describe the history of the place.  Marie had grown up in this village, so she showed us where she had lived, gone to school, played, all that.  Here's some photos:

Jim and Marie, posing at the monument

They cleared this area by themselves.

The once and future center of the village

View to ocean.  Nice?

Jim explaining the history to us.

Jim & Marie's home; the only full time residents here.

Candid shot as they gave us the tour

Site of Marie's childhood home, ruined by a cyclone.

     After a few hours on the beach came the hike back up - almost two hours through the same overgrown jungle, hot & sweaty, but instead of slipping and sliding down, we were huffing and puffing up.  Eventually we all made it.  Hot showers and a glass of wine on the porch capped a tiring but wonderful day.

Mary, Ryan and Blake

Packing up to go back up the mountain.

Rainbow from our porch.  I had to show this.