Posted by:
Tagomaa
(
)
Date: September 21, 2020 07:06PM
I served for two years in Samoa, 50 years ago. Most of my stay was on the back sides of the islands, meaning no running water, no electricity, and of course, no real means of communication. It was hot, humid, and I was in culture shock. I was beyond homesick. I was deeply depressed, and literally counted the days until I would come home.
I remember being sick with dysentery within hours of arriving. It would last days. I would look at the calendar and realize that in a year, I'd still have a year left.
We couldn't phone home, there was no TV, we did have a radio station, which was used by the mission president to communicate to his elders if a transfer was coming, etc. I lived in grass huts with mats on the floor, and no furniture. I ate taro, fish, and some nice papaya. And of course, all the coconut you would ever want. I paid the family I stayed with $2.50 per week, which included the hut, two meals per day, and full laundry service.
But by the time my mission ended, I was fluent in Samoan, made many, many friends, and really enjoyed the culture I was living. I love the South Pacific and am very glad that I was lucky enough to be sent there, rather than a stateside mission where I'm pretty sure I would have failed. Everyone in Samoa knew the Mormon Missionaries, and pretty much accepted what we had to say. Didn't mean they would join, but many did. But in short, I worked hard to make the best of a really sad situation.
I went on a mission because I didn't know what to do with my life. I was a good missionary in one sense, but totally uncommitted to the church in another. Soon after my mission, I was drifting away, but it took eight years to finally escape.
So, no possible way I would go again. Like many of you, I have often dreamed that I am either still there, or going again. These are nightmares.