“Teulia…moso’oi…and…u’lu…” I made mental notes as I scanned the vegetation for familiarity and carefully sloshed through the rugged trail. The national flower, a fragrant tropical tree, and breadfruit were some of the first plants I learned to identify in Samoa.
Our hike had led my classmates and me through an untouched forest and rocky ravines. Enraptured by the ecosystem’s vitality, I didn’t want to waste time blinking. I longed to fully appreciate the wind as it carried a bird’s sweet song. I wanted to show gratitude for the beauty of endless moss carpets and swinging vines. As we pressed on, a timid mist enveloped us in anticipation. Then, in a breathtaking moment, we were seized by the thundering rush of water.
We jumped in.
Mary and her friend explore the Afu Aau Waterfall on the island of Savai’i, Samoa
My time in Samoa was replete with indescribable moments of wonder. I gawked at extraordinary orchid varieties, basked in the Milky Way’s abyss, and tested my buoyancy in crystal waters. Thrilling snorkeling adventures allowed me to gaze at giant clams and bustling coral reefs. Upon catching sight of a sea turtle, I joined its calm ocean gliding in pure delight.
There is no place I feel more in awe, more adventurous, and more curious about our natural world and urgently reminded of our responsibility to honor and protect it.
A view of the ocean and groves of taro, breadfruit, and coconut trees from the Manono Starmound Trail
Familiarizing myself with Samoan floristics completely altered my experience within the forests. I gained new perspectives on plant relationships and marveled at insect interactions. Realizing that many creatures lead complex lives in such a short time span, I began to rethink the phrase “life is too short” because, certainly, bugs didn’t think so.
Although I used the platitude to justify spontaneous trips to the island’s south coast, it led me to adopt a scarcity mindset. The unachievable, self-assigned task of absorbing all the beauty began to bother me. I worried that I wasn’t appreciating every sunset enough and feared I would never taste the richness of kokosamoa for breakfast again. And even when I was feeling particularly thankful, I fretted that my gratitude ran parallel with privilege.
Could gratitude be classist?
In the novel MARTYR! by Kaveh Akbar, the protagonist asks, “Did a poor Syrian child, whose living and dying had been indelibly shaped by the murderous whims of evil men, qualify for grace only if she possessed a superhuman ability to look beyond her hardship and notice the beauty of a single flower growing through a pile of rubble?” Akbar’s words stayed with me in Samoa, widening my heart in terror at the futility of perspective. As a reckless optimist, I believe in the power of a positive outlook. However, simply changing one’s attitude does not justify experiences of systemic violence, poverty, and discrimination. MARTYR! explores these themes through narratives of premature death and fury. Yet it also begs a larger question: for it to be a good life, how long does it have to last?
The sun sets over the island of Manono, Samoa
Unsurprisingly, island time prevails in Samoa. Whereas the hands of a clock are a constrained resource in the West, time abounds in the South Pacific. I remember thinking, “Life’s too long” as Sundays dawdled by in thick afternoon naps and conversations stretched leisurely at dining room tables. This way of being suggests that on this earth, the time we have is all we need. After all, aging is a privilege in itself; not everyone gets to grow old.
I considered this notion again on my final night as I wrapped my arms around myself and stared out at the dark, open sea. Despite months of transformative academic and personal growth, I felt guilty for being excited about my next adventure. The human heart always wants more. Thus, living for new experiences or in pursuit of a legacy is meaningless because time erases everything. If I live in this world simply for this world, nothing matters.
As a person of faith, I believe my choices endure because life goes on in eternity. The antidote to my nihilism is, then, the reality that there is more than just this life. So, I carry on with an attitude of abundance, understanding that life is precious now. Starting with the end in mind guides me to live with clarity, purpose, and hope.
Mary (right) and her friends smile in front of Mt. Vaea in downtown Apia, Samoa
Mary Nguyen (C’25) is a junior in the College of Arts & Sciences majoring in environmental biology and minoring in religion, ethics, and world affairs. As part of the spring 2024 Doyle Global Dialogue cohort, she studied abroad at the National University of Samoa. Mary is curious about agricultural science and the global church. She looked forward to learning how intercultural and interreligious dialogue informs island biosecurity and local floristics. At Georgetown, Mary is involved with Catholic Retreats, the Vietnamese Student Association, and the Homelessness Outreach Meals and Education (HOME) program.
