by Roy Latas

Exploring Samoan Culture

All literature is set against the backdrop of time, location, and most important for the semantic anthropologist, culture. When an anthropologist begins a field study at a new location, he or she ideally assesses the surrounding environment, flora, fauna, climate, and projects their impact on social customs. In this case, as an American reader, I will view Samoan culture through literary and expository sources--comparing the overlapping cultural imagery found in these texts to my American background.

My understanding of Samoan culture is derived from three main sources: Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa, Derek Freeman’s Margaret Mead and Samoa and the literary work Pouliuli by Albert Wendt. Other historical and anthropological sources contribute to this study. My analysis is by no means a complete anthropological investigation of Samoan culture; however, my investigative methodology exemplifies a literary approach to semantic anthropology. The process of uncovering overlapping cultural imagery is limited to multicultural texts and expository sources.

Margaret Mead is best remembered as a pioneering feminist who took anthropological investigation into the field. With the hindsight of comparing my sources, I think Mead has made a significant number of cogent observations; however, her interpretation of native Samoan activities fails to capture the essence of the Samoan world. Portraying an amiable and tolerant society with the following description seems antithetical to a paradisiacal environment. According to Mead, Samoan children:

. . . [K]eep quiet, wake-up early, obey, work hard and cheerfully, play with children of their own sex; young people should work industriously and skillfully, not be presuming, marry discretely, be loyal to their relatives, not carry tales, nor be trouble-makers; while adults should be wise, peaceable, serene, generous, anxious for the good prestige of their village, and conduct their lives with all good form and decorum. (Mead 108)

These numerous social norms imply a rigid culture for children and unrealistic expectations for adults. The overlapping cultural image is that all societies have expectations, taboos, norms, and proprieties, yet Mead’s apparent mission was to portray a paradisiacal Samoan culture divergent from American norms. A semantic anthropologist looks for overlapping cultural images that increase his or her self-awareness instead of categorizing cultural correctness.

An overarching image portrayed by Freeman and Wendt is captivity within Samoan social structure. The captivity begins with the physical surroundings, an isolated tropical island. The word "captive" has benign connotations in American usage when compared to its synonyms of "caged", "confined", and "imprisoned" (American). In an American reader, "captive" and its synonyms invoke a variety of images, which reflect inflexible, interpersonal standards of Samoan social structure. "Captivity" and "confined" imply rigid boundaries, yet allow mobility inside a delimited domain, as for animals in a zoo. In contrast to Mead, Freeman acknowledges the captive aspects of Samoan society, describing a rigid, patriarchal social structure. "Samoa is . . . a highly authoritarian society. . . with those in subordinate positions being required to listen to and obey the instructions of those who have pule (power) over them" (Freeman 123). Pule is not limited to the matais. ". . . [T]he Samoan baby learns that its world is composed of a hierarchy of male and female adults, all of whom can be depended upon and must be deferred to" (Mead 168). Freeman notes how the process of complying conceals "true feelings and intentions" (216). In Pouliuli, Faleasa portrays his heavy-handed father by remembering that his "individuality was ignored" and the feeble assertions of his self-identity were treated ". . . as a disease which must be cured even if it meant using violent intimidation" (Wendt 115). As we will see, physical and emotional duress molds the social and familial paradigm; both children and adults yield to the dictates of their elders in Samoan society.

Freeman highlights the Samoan word usiusita’i, referring specifically to obedience or "the action of listening to an instruction and then unquestioningly carrying it out" (192). Samoan society empowers an elite group of males who ultimately control the actions of others. "Indeed, Samoan chiefs are much given to extolling obedience as the essential basis of virtue and concord, and to condemning freedom of action as a source of sin and social disorder" (Freeman 274). Deferring to leaders creates a mindset of disempowerment among individual Samoans. "Samoan social organization, then, is markedly authoritarian and depends directly on a system of severe discipline that is visited on children from an early age" (Freeman 209-10). The Samoan cultural images of "order" and "obedience" offers an overlapping cultural image for the Western semantic anthropologist, who probably experiences an authoritarian familial structure as a child; however, adulthood brings employment and travel outside the familial circle of influence. The Samoan norms of social captivity inhibit the growth of a personal identity and the repression of self-identity leads to the kind of psychological stress that Faleasa demonstrates throughout the novel.

Samoan norms dictate that ". . . [a] good person . . . had limitless alofa (love, compassion, gift) and shared everything he owned. A mean person was the next worst person to a coward" (Wendt 80). Mead confirms the communal sharing between families by reporting that ". . . a relative may demand food, clothing, and shelter, or assistance in a feud. Refusal of such a demand brands one as stingy and lacking in human kindness, the virtue most esteemed among Samoans" (43). Sharing resources between families and the social dictates demanding such activities leads to Holmes’ remark: "No one in Samoan culture needs to be terribly self-reliant. There is always provision for mutual aid or support from friends or relatives" (460). This type of collectivism reduces the importance and self-image of individuals within Samoan society. "An individual is regarded as a necessary, but minor, component of the family" (Holmes 454). Wendt describes Faleasa as the father of ". . . seven sons and five obedient daughters" (1). Within the novel, only the characters of two sons are developed and four daughters are merely mentioned by name. Individuals are collectively known as being members of an aiga.

A Samoan essentially spends his or her life within an aiga and receives all of his or her external validation from this group. Richard A. Goodman verifies this point in his essay "Laughter and Anger: On Samoan Aggression" by reporting: "Samoans are intensely communal. They prefer living in groups and normally dislike being alone" (137). The aiga is an extended family group that prescribes acceptable behavior. Children learn and adults prescribe an ". . . emphasis on remembering well, acceptance of authority, hierarchies, submission, and doing nothing until told" (Holmes 463). When Wendt describes a good Samoan son, he uses the example of Mose, the adopted son of Laaumatua, instead of Faleasa. Mose exhibits the culturally endearing qualities of being ". . . fearless, obedient, conscientious, and he serves his aiga with unquestioning loyalty and devotion" [emphasis added] (Wendt 81-2).

Corey Muse in "A Study of Samoan Children on Eleven Cognitive Tasks" explains his perspective of Samoan society: "Cooperation verifies service to the family and, hence, fulfillment of being. Acceptance/submission to authority results in recognition and personal worth" (49). In modern Western society, the word "submission," which is part of the captive semantic domain, is usually replaced by "cooperation," which denotes mutual respect and allows the cooperating parties some dignity. Freeman also notes submissiveness (130), and to the Western observer, submissiveness sounds like a disquieting indictment of a culture assumed to be living in paradise. Submission implies that an individual relinquishes his or her personal identity in order to conform to authority figures within the community.

On a semantic level, synonyms for "submission" are the words: "surrender, acquiescence, capitulation, concession, yielding, and resignation" (American). All of these words represent a decision process leading to possible resentment or disdain in the yielding party. "The price paid for outward politeness and submissiveness includes a not unexpected array of psychic problems and a tendency to violent behavior" (Brown 18). It is not surprising that Faleasa attacks his family with both verbal and physical abuse the first pages of Pouliuli (Wendt 2).

In summary, Faleasa’s loyalty and devotion toward his aiga produces an overwhelming feeling of captivity, which leads to his rebellion against the Samoan social order. For a Western semantic anthropologist, it is difficult to consider a reasonable degree of personal freedom as "social disorder;" however, in a Samoan context, gaining personal freedom strays from cultural expectations.

Cannibals

"Cannibals" and "cannibalism" are derived from the singular noun "cannibal". A cannibal is a person who eats human flesh (American). An American English speaker has only rudimentary understanding of the word cannibal because the practice of consuming human flesh is taboo in our society, but Samoans practiced cannibalism through the eighteenth century (Berghof). A cannibal consumes other human beings. Consumption of Faleasa’s self-identity and his leadership powers within his village are the dominant aspects of the "cannibal" metaphor, which is also evoked in the text by the word "gnaw."

Faleasa recounts his victimization by the cannibals in his community by saying: "I was easy meat for all the cannibals; and worst, the most rapacious of all, were my own aiga and village" (Wendt 17). In order to understand Faleasa’s metaphor of "meat for all the cannibals," a semantic anthropologist needs to investigate the imagery and context of Faleasa’s remark. On the first page of Pouliuli Faleasa thinks: ". . . [E]verything and everybody that he was used to and had enjoyed, and that till then had given meaning to his existence, now filled him with own an almost unbearable feeling of revulsion" (Wendt 1). The "unbearable feeling of revulsion" is an image many Californians would conjure up when discussing the cannibalistic nature of the Donner Party. This disquieting, yet justifiable consumption of human beings, insures the survival of some Donner Party members. The Donner Party’s literal act of cannibalism opens a semantic domain or elicits images for a semantic anthropologist. In contrast, Faleasa’s revulsion stems from the gradual yet insistent consumption of his personal autonomy by his family and village.

Faleasa’s childhood experiences also gnawed at his self-identity. Faleasa conjures up an image of cannibalism by calling his father, Vaatele, ". . . the most ruthless, powerful, and insatiably ambitious matai in Malaelua . . ." (Wendt 19). The words "ruthless," "insatiable," "meat," and "revulsion" detail Wendt’s image of an authoritarian cannibal consuming Faleasa’s identity. Inspecting these words through the process of a semantic heuristic (see above p. 45), an "associative field" (see above p. 47), or a "semantic domain" (see above p. 39), discloses the contextual and cultural sense of a word also known as a semantic field. As Ullmann notes, discovering the context of a word incites another culturally specific outcome.

A semantic field does not merely reflect the ideas, values and outlook of contemporary society, but it crystallizes and perpetuates them: it hands down to the oncoming generation a ready-made analysis of experience through which the world will be viewed . . . . (250)

Although Wendt does not use the words "cannibalize," he chronicles the activities of Faleasa’s metaphoric cannibals--some of his friends and family. "Cannibalize" has the constructive attributes in an American context of using parts of a broken machine to repair a second similar piece of machinery or using spare parts to make a new machine (American). This definition of "cannibalize" is probably the most common American connotation of the semantic field of "cannibal." Faleasa’s cannibals use or "consume" his generosity, trust, and power for their own benefit.

Vaelupa is a time-honored friend, who cannibalizes Faleasa’s trust during his episode of ma’i aitu. "Faleasa cursed to himself, remembering . . . when Vaelupa had secretly used Malaelua funds and he had found out before the council did, Vaelupa pleaded with him and he had paid all money himself" (Wendt 14). Vaelupa repays Faleasa’s act of trust by calling Faleasa a ". . . fat, elephantiasis-ridden thief . . ." during a casual meeting of some high-ranking villagers (Wendt 14). Faleasa disdainfully concludes: "The wretches, like his aiga, had used him all these years" (Wendt 14). The sting, or in this case the bite, of betrayal signifies an overlapping cultural image that may border upon a human universal. No one appreciates debasement after a gratuitous act. The American image of "having ones heart cut out" expresses a deep, painful experience between people with emotional bonds. Cutting out ones heart is an obvious cause of death, and the person taking the heart displays malice and a lack of regard toward the person losing his or her heart. Faleasa’s identity and power are the metaphoric "meat" consumed by his cannibals. A "heart" is also "meat" that can be consumed in many cultures. A person without a heart is powerless because he or she is metaphorically dead. The overlapping image, the act of taking a valuable commodity (flesh, heart, meat, or power) from another causes them pain or harm.

Another example of the metaphoric use of "cannibal" is Wendt’s description of a "cannibal memory," which turns into an exciting critique of the powers of writing (105). When Faleasa and Laaumatua are children, they find a disheveled "old man" on the church steps. Vaatele insists that the "old man" is a tremendous asset to the village and allows him to stay in the Aiga Faleasa. Faleasa takes charge of the "old man" and receives many enlightening insights.

The "old man" introduces the "cannibal memory" image after Faleasa reads to him one day (Wendt 105). ". . . [The "old man"] was merely an ignorant creature with an ‘insatiable’ memory that would not leave him alone" (Wendt 104). The "old man" sympathizes with people who have an exacting memory--remembering ". . . every sight, taste, smell, thought, and worst of all, every pain . . ." because they were the ". . . most tortured of God’s creatures" (Wendt 104). In describing the trauma of this exacting or "cannibal" memory, the "old man" warns that ". . . his type of memory could devour a person bit by bit, bone by bone" (Wendt 104). The overlapping image introduced by the "cannibal memory" stems from the Western idea of an obsessive or embittering thought--usually a painful memory of indiscretion or inaction that "eats away" (Americanism) at ones consciousness. A memory that ". . . devours a person bit by bit, bone by bone . . ." creates an image of obsession that compares to "eating away" in an American reader.

In the midst of his painful speech, the "old man" continues by making an exciting observation about writing reminiscent of the previous section on "Cognition, Culture, and Imagery" (see above p. 37). The "old man" defines the healing properties of literature by stating:

. . . [L]iterate people were lucky because they could store, describe, imprison, exorcise, and identify their memories in written form--the printed word was their escape from the ravenous, rapacious, fearless appetite of memory. (104)

Faleasa is the leader of his village during the 1940’s. At this point in time, explorers, missionaries, and occupying forces brought intrusive Western norms into Samoan culture for approximately one hundred and fifty years. Faleasa’s rebellious quest for personal freedom may stem from Western ideals; however, this ethnocentric hypothesis minimizes the Samoan cultural evolution and does not consider a human realization of self. From the point of view of a semantic anthropologist, Faleasa demonstrates a human search for identity. Similar quests for self-realization stirred the peasants during the French Revolution and American colonialists during the Revolutionary War.

Faleasa’s identity developed over a lifetime in Samoan culture. His role as a matai affords him power over other people’s lives, yet Faleasa struggles throughout the book to regain power over his own life. After his first episode of ma’i aitu, Faleasa realizes:

He hadn’t said any prayers, hadn’t sung any hymns, hadn’t read the Bible, hadn’t pretended to like his thirty or so snooty-nosed grandchildren, hadn’t made decisions that suited everyone but himself, and hadn’t sacrificed a little bit more of himself for the sake of his aiga, village, and church. (Wendt 11)

Running counter to Vaatele’s indoctrination and the collective nature of Samoan society, Faleasa continually demonstrates an emerging desire for self-fulfillment. However, Faleasa’s feels his quest for self-identity may have forced him to pay too high a price.

He had even enjoyed his enslavement to his father. . . . [H]e understood . . . why people enjoyed being enslaved, . . . willingly sacrificed their freedom, . . . true selves, . . . individuality: life was immeasurably easier if one became a castrated pet. (Wendt 115)

The image of a "castrated pet" is an interesting metaphor for captivity. A person willingly sacrificing their "freedom," "true sel[f]," and "individuality" describes the backdrop for Faleasa’s cultural conflict and defines Wendt’s use of the words "castrated pet."

The metaphor of a "castrated pet" symbolizes the Samoan aspect of captivity and the image of performing or acting for others. "Castration" means sexual sterilization or a deprivation of virility or spirit (American). The lack of "freedom" and "individuality" in the oppressive, authoritarian Samoan society is a change for Western readers, and in Pouliuli Faleasa determines that the unhappiness in his childhood is caused by his father’s metaphoric leash on his personal development.

As soon as he was able to talk his father had treated him as a man, with all the ideal traits of a man, . . . which were indomitable courage, infinite patience, a limitless capacity to tolerate pain without a whimper, and the ability to hide ones true feelings behind an impregnable mask of controlled aloofness. (Wendt 116)

Faleasa’s childhood depicts his performance as a son of a matai. Although he plays with his friend Laaumatua and attends school like a Western child, he always feels the burden of his father’s position in the community.

Faleasa relinquishes his childhood and his "true self" by acting as "man" in all social environments. His childhood is "castrated" by emulating adult behavior and he acts like a leader in training. The image of parents who have aspirations for their children emerges as an overlapping cultural trait, yet some cultural norms allow more autonomy than others do. Although Faleasa learns well from his father, he realizes with self-loathing that his identity is a product of his upbringing.

He was, he realized now, to be his father, which meant to be afraid of nothing and nobody (at least, publicly); to be arrogant, autocratic, bigoted; unquestioned ruler of their aiga; a bully and tyrant who enjoyed other people’s fear of him. (Wendt 115)

The "impregnable mask" veils Samoan humanity. Faleasa is a ruler by inheritance and not by nature, so in order to relieve himself of the burden of his duties, he retreats into an episode of ma’i aitu, masking his disdain for obligation of leadership--an abnormal act for a person of his stature.

Felefele, Faleasa’s wife, also gnaws at his stature. Faleasa expresses the Samoan expectation of male domination by criticizing his sons-in-law: ". . . [H]e pitied them because their wives controlled their lives so completely" (Wendt 39). Faleasa painfully concedes his own "castration" by Felefele with the memory of awakening after his first demonic outburst:

". . . [E]verything was back in its normal place, arranged, as always, according to Felefele’s sanity . . ." (Wendt 7). Faleasa realizes that some of the smallest details of his life, the arrangement of his fale, are out of his control. In order to recapture a portion of his freedom and sanity, he plans to withdraw from his role of matai.

Faleasa seeks the counsel of Laaumatua for this difficult transition from power.

. . . [T]he individual freedom you have discovered and now want to maintain is contrary to the very basis of our way of life. . . . . For over thirty years you, Faleasa, and a few other matai have led our village, and your leadership, as was the ancient practice, has been based firmly on the principle that you exist to serve others, to serve the very people you are now branding as cannibals. A good leader doesn’t live for himself but for his people. (Wendt 17)

Faleasa requires freedom from his cultural obligations because he is no longer happy leading the "cannibals" who gnaw on his identity. The apparent episodes of ma’i aitu are a ploy to convince his family and other village members of his inability to lead. Using ma’i aitu in this way is an act of rebellion or a self-indulgent grasp at control because in a situation where ". . . a man lives past his prime, his title is given to a younger member of his family and he is often granted a lesser matai title that enables him to maintain a position in the fono (village council)" (Mead 155). In a final attempt for control over his life, Faleasa circumvents the traditional transition of power.

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In summary of the Mexican anthropological information throughout this chapter, the terms Mexican American and Hispanic will be used interchangeably. Even though it is generally accepted that Mexican American is the more specific modern term for people of this ethnic and/or culture group, the term Hispanic has a rich history and broader implications that also apply to the Mexican American community. According to lexicographer David Barnhart, the current spelling of Hispanic became prevalent in 1889 and denoted ". . . the suitably descriptive designation for residents and citizens of the United States who traced their immediate ancestry not necessarily to Spain but to the Spanish-speaking lands to our south" (186). The first permanent settlement in North America was the Spanish settlement of St. Augustine, Florida in 1565 (Barnhart), which began the European colonialization of the North American continent.

The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries saw the establishment of the Spanish colonial government in the territories of western and central North America. The main population centers were in the area of contemporary Mexico City and the coastal areas adjoining the Gulf of Mexico. The people who have become known as Mexican Americans were frontiersmen in their "Northwest" and had little contact with the people and institutions of colonial Spain and the government of the land that would become known as Mexico.

Living on the frontier with great distances between population centers created and perpetuated the need for extended family units during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The extended family was like an intrafamilial mutual-aid society; all members contributed to the well being and survival of the group. An extended family contains some or all of the following: a nuclear family (parents and children), aunts and uncles (as individuals or with their nuclear families), and grandparents. Each extended family had their own means of subsistence, usually farming, ranching, or a commercial activity. Considering the harsh environment, lack of transportation, and nonexistent social services, other pseudo-familial relationships were necessary to survive in this remote and harsh territory.

One way that families enlarged their ties to others in the community was through compadrazgo. The custom of god parenthood made nonbiologically related individuals of community members of the extended family. (Griswold 42)

These compadrazago relationships created an enlarged network of interdependent families. "When a woman gave birth or a family member became seriously ill, comadres (adult female compadrazago) and female relatives automatically came to each other’s assistance" (Griswold 43). In Bless Me, Ultima, Ultima is an example of the care and kindness given by a comadre. Anaya also designates her as a curandera because of her expertise with herbs and healing arts.

Antonio’s Mexican culture is at odds with American culture. As he struggles to understand himself, he learns the intricacies of the vast society around him.

"The likely outcome, therefore, is some form of biculturalism, . . . [he functions] . . . in the home reflecting a more Mexican orientation and [his] activities outside the home and community reflecting a more Euro-American orientation" (Rueschenberg 17).

Griswold points out how the Mexican American history in the United States ". . . touches on some of the most fundamental issues of American society: immigration and urban acculturation, marginalization, discrimination and self-determination, and the importance of class and race in the individual experience" (Griswold 126). Rudolfo Anaya combines the struggles noted by Rueschenberg and Griswold in the life of a young boy who demonstrates his cultural propensity toward pensiveness and reconciliation. The task for the semantic anthropologist is to find the overlapping cultural images as Antonio struggles with self-identification, assimilation, and the mediation of the cultural and social diversity within his life.

The basic Mexican American social structure is the extended family. In this large familial environment, ". . . the Mexican infant had a social context packed with tactile and sound stimulation, was surrounded by a variety of relatives, and at the behavioral level was seldom really alone" (Vélez 164). In an extended family, a child patiently mediates the influences of several adult figures with a variety of demeanors. "When an adult is impatient and judgmental, the child often has the opportunity to experience other adults in different domains where such behavior is not present" (Vélez 166). As a child witnesses various adult role models, he or she learns from and evaluates each adult. Hispanic culture allows for ". . . self-evaluation and self-judgment because the feedback process is in the hands of the child" (Vélez 166). "Another important aspect of this learning process is the wide latitude allowed for error as well as encouragement given for further experimentation" (Velez 165). These attributes of experimentation and the careful examination of facts and personalities underlie Antonio’s outwardly reserved nature.

The Mexican American evaluation of a person contrasts the American icon of a friendly or financially generous person who instantly "wins you over." The Hispanic community values a personal demeanor that may take years to discern. "It was not inner goodness that fit a person for community life; it was his knowledge of how to act and his commitment to it" (Sewell 69). The "knowledge of how to act" constituted a "social mask" or socially appropriate behavior. Sewell’s informants commented that there was a distinct difference between ". . . the person’s real nature . . ." and ". . . his social mask . . . . They said you do not really know a person for years; they said you had to watch and learn about a person rather than accept what they try to show you; they said people acted one way but were really another" (265).

Antonio, like many young people, has difficulty finding a niche in life. "Tony’s experience has been one of individuation, a process of [self] recognition and, like all Hispanics, it has not been easy for him" (Newkirk 149). Uneasiness describes Antonio’s main social situation: school. Despite the language barrier at his English-only school, his greatest challenge remains his cultural difference. On Antonio’s first day, his classmates laugh at him for eating tortillas and beans instead of a sandwich (Anaya 76). Antonio realizes the children are making fun of his Mexican food, so, overwhelmed by self-consciousness, he leaves the classroom. He likens the experience to "what grown-ups call la tristesa de la vida [(the sadness of life) (italic added)]" (Anaya 59). This expression denotes painful situations that everyone consistently encounters in life. Antonio laments his situation because he is an outcast among his classmates. In this classroom situation, Antonio postpones assimilating with his classmates in favor of finding a peer group which understands and supports his ethnic background and aids his personal development.

In Mexican American culture, Antonio’s indignity in the classroom ennobles him to his Mexican American peers. "The social designations of a ‘decent person’ and ‘one who has suffered’ create the notion of respect within the Hispanic community" (Sewell 121). Antonio knew he had to ". . . grow up and be a man . . ." (Anaya 59), yet he is demoralized by his classmates’ taunting. Outside the classroom, he found George and Willy ("big boys") suffering the same feeling of ostracism. "We banded together and in our union found strength. We found others who were like us, different in language and custom, and a part of our loneliness was gone" (Anaya 59). Antonio and the other boys who felt ostracized "band together" in a manner similar to the compadrazago relationships of their parents. These relationships represent the overlapping cultural image of a peer group, which pacifies pain or mutual needs with camaraderie.

Peer groups form in workplaces, neighborhoods, or schools. The Mexican American attribute of "respect" guides the Hispanic determination of a peer group image. "Cooperation and solidarity in practice depended largely on whether other individuals ‘respected’ one . . . not . . . on given social place" (Sewell 242-3). The following Hispanic schema of respect or deference has some very redeeming qualities.

People showed admiration for various interpersonal traits--humility, decency, respect for others . . . [and, the ability] . . . to protect people’s dignity . . . [was] . . . a valuable gift and, very likely, [contributed] more effectively than anything else to a gratifying mutual warmth and together feeling. (Sewell 69, 271)

When a peer group is not available, Antonio receives empathy and advice through a possibly universal method, a conversation between father and son. While they drive to his Uncles’ farm, Antonio questions the merit of taking Holy Communion because it failed to resolve the spiritual conflicts in his life. The ensuing father-son talk yields a truism that Antonio embraces:

Understanding comes with life, [Gabriel said], as a man grows he sees life and death . . . sometimes it takes a lifetime to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding means having a sympathy for people. [emphasis added] (Anaya 248)

The phrase "having a sympathy for people" is indicative of Antonio’s mediation process. This phrase represents more than a misguided translation or Gabriel’s poor English skills. In Spanish, the unusual use of an article with a noun often highlights or changes the meaning of the surrounding words and therefore invites inspection of the term "sympathy." Anaya is proposing more than affinity or bonding; the word "understanding" preceding "a sympathy" adds its semantic implications to the semantic field of sympathy. Conceptually, combining "sympathy" with "understanding" brings to mind a relationship based on alliance, compassion, and sharing--or in a word, mediation. Mediation, the act of intervening

". . . between two or more disputants [or cultural/spiritual ideologies] in order to bring about an agreement, settlement, or compromise," is Antonio’s personal strength (American). As Antonio works towards decisions in his future, he mediates the cultural, theological, and social implications and derives "a sympathy" that allows for his personal growth.

Antonio mediates conflicting ideological norms when he grants Florence absolution from his sin of not believing in God. Antonio’s absolution directly conflicts with the beliefs of the zealous children who have recently finished Catechism class. After absolving Florence, Antonio braces for the angry assault of the other children by thinking: "I had stood my ground for what I felt to be right and I was not afraid. I thought that perhaps it was this kind of strength that allowed Florence to say he did not believe in God" (Anaya 214). Antonio’s act of strength in the face of other children empowers his embryonic self-identity by recognizing his own strength, a strength that he had seen only in Florence.

As Antonio ages, he becomes preoccupied with spiritual and social contradictions in his life. Antonio’s feelings of self-doubt and isolation increase until Ultima offers her insight: "The old people . . . always helped each other; through good or bad they stuck together, and the friendships that were formed in that desolate llano were bonds for life" (Anaya 179). Although Ultima’s previous statement is about people and Antonio’s spiritual dilemma deals with God, the Mexican American semantic field of "respect" governs both situations. The aid and camaraderie of Ultima’s friendship provides Antonio and others with tangible benefits.

Friends engaged in a lot of practical reciprocity, did recreational and practical things together, and showed each other more than usual consideration, honesty, and loyalty. . . . (Sewell 202)

The phrase "more than usual consideration, honesty, and loyalty" encapsulates the Mexican American connotation of "respect" that engenders support and action within a group. Circles of friends who demonstrate congenial interdependence use the term compadres in the modern vernacular.

Although Ultima is never referred to as a compadre or comadre, her sympathy, compassion, and understanding define the mediative powers of a wise, old curandera; in addition, she has lived within the region all her life spending years with the people of El Puerto, the city of the Luna’s, and Las Pasturas, a settlement on the llano. Ultima’s expertise as a curandera and her knowledge of local history engender "a sympathy" for others that allows her to cross the boundaries of most social and cultural groups in the novel. Many people are fearful of her role as a curandera because they do not understand how she miraculously cures illnesses. Gabriel insightfully surmises her powers by remarking: "Ultima has sympathy for people, and it is so complete that with it she can touch their souls and cure them--"(Anaya 248).

Ultima’s "complete sympathy" extends into the spiritual realm. Strange physical occurrences such as moving objects and rocks falling from the sky haunt Téllez, Gabriel’s compadre from the llano (Anaya 224-5). As a semantic anthropologist with training in Spanish would recognize the heritage of the author and the irregular use of an article in "a sympathy," Ultima’s cultural and spiritual literacy understands why the spirits torment Téllez.

Ultima knew that several "Comanche Indians" were killed by ranchers, but they lacked a customary burial ceremony (Anaya 227). Ultima also queried Téllez to see if he had contact with Tenorio, the father of some local "brujas" (witches) (Anaya 234). Téllez had argued with Tenorio recently, so Tenorio’s daughters probably aroused the Indian spirits; therefore, Ultima understood how to rectify the situation.

Ultima understood that she could help Antonio become a man by providing a curandera’s perspective on horticulture, herbal medicine, and intuitive thinking, but her greatest gift was her warm compassion in the role of a surrogate grandmother. Antonio (who should be called "the inquisitor") constantly questions Ultima about the quandaries he encounters. For example, Antonio witnesses the death of Lupito in the riverbed near his home. Lupito has post-traumatic-stress syndrome because of his experiences in World War II, and in an unstable moment, he murders the town sheriff (Anaya 16). In turn, some men from town shoot Lupito. Antonio wonders if Lupito should go to hell and how the men could kill him without making a reasonable effort to capture him.

Young Antonio fails to realize his questions do not have answers. Ultima consoles him: "Her voice was soothing and the drink she had made for me made me sleepy," and she answers Antonio obtusely by saying: "Men will do what they must do" (Anaya 25). As Antonio drifts into sleep, Ultima reassures him: "You will learn much, you will see much" (Anaya 25). This snapshot of Antonio’s growth into manhood highlights the importance of patience on the road to understanding. Antonio takes solace in the fact that Ultima has no answers for him; he is reassured because he has not "missed something." "There are so many dreams to be fulfilled [and questions to be answered], but Ultima says a man’s destiny must unfold itself like a flower, only with the sun and the earth and water making blossom, and no one else meddling in it" (Anaya 222-3). Antonio realizes that life presents various experiences and dilemmas, and he has the power to make decisions based upon the available information.

Ultima, Antonio's mentor in his process of mediating conflict and self-discovery, continues to prescribe a patient approach to life’s problems. ". . . [I]f a person really wants to know, then he will listen and see and be patient. Knowledge, comes slowly"(Anaya 34). He obtains knowledge by reckoning with his choices. The noun "choice" is defined as "a number or variety [of paths] from which to choose," choice identifies alternatives, options, preference, or avenues that represent possible outcomes (American). These synonyms of choice generate different connotations and semantic fields. Students who work through a semantic heuristic examine meaning in the same manner that Antonio thinks about the choices in his life.

In Antonio’s Americanizing world, his brothers make choices that take them outside their town of Guadalupe after their service in the Korean War. They realize innumerable opportunities exist far beyond their hometown. "We’re men, Andy, we’re not boys any longer. We can’t be tied down to old dreams--" (Anaya 68). Antonio and his brothers had the luxury of knowing that deviations from their family’s ideals are possible and acceptable. Gabriel also admits the necessity of following one’s destiny by stating: "A man cannot struggle against his own fate" (Anaya 54). Gabriel acknowledges that his older sons are free to make choices because he has given them the wandering Márez spirit.

As Antonio becomes aware of his choices, he realizes: "I was growing up and becoming a man and suddenly I realized that I could make my own decisions" (Anaya 77), yet Antonio is equally aware of his own lack of knowledge when he replies to Miss Violet, his third grade teacher, describing what he will do during the summer. "I wanted to tell her I was searching for something, but sometimes I didn’t even know what it was I sought". Antonio’s search for "something" models the semantic anthropologist’s quest for culturally overlapping imagery.

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The proceeding "field work" in semantic anthropology embodies three main overlapping cultural images. First, language is a cultural medium that ". . . connects the members of a community into an information-sharing network with formidable collective powers" (Pinker 16). The language of a cultural community describes, transmits, and perpetuates norms, ideas, and personal habits. Language records history as well as inventions and provides a medium for their transmission. Second, a semantic anthropologist should be aware that he or she is a visitor in a new cultural realm. ". . . [N]o

. . . understanding of such crucial and culture-specific concepts will ever be achieved if it is not grasped at the outset that they are ‘alien to our own’" (Wierzbicka 20). Despite the "alien" nature or the unfamiliarity of new cultures, there is a possibility of finding overlapping cultural imagery with the assistance of an inclusive semantic strategy. Third, the search for overlapping cultural imagery narrows the boundary between other cultures and ours. "This stark ‘our’/’their’ dichotomy leaves out the mutual benefits to be derived from the exchange of meaning" (Crick 167). The search for overlapping cultural imagery brings new awareness of others, and the search gives us the foundation of knowledge instead of the conjecture of stereotyping.

Many Western readers can sympathize with the feeling of captivity within a nuclear family structure. The Western ideals of personal autonomy and professional success outside of the familial sphere of influence dominate industrialized and industrializing cultures. Currently, the extended family is more common in agrarian societies. Yet, both familial groups have an overlapping purpose.

. . . [T]he family has been central to the transmission and perpetuation of ethnic culture, mediating how individuals are socialized into the [cultural] group. The ethnic family has interpreted the group’s history and life experiences for the individual. (Griswold 125)

The fictional texts chosen for this study describe the overlapping cultural image of multigenerational family units, named an aiga in the Samoan language or an extended family in the Mexican American texts. In this study, the observation

". . . of binary oppositions is an obvious approach . . . this is misleading, since the oppositions are continually revealed as not mutually exclusive" (Bruce-Nova 188). Pouliuli and Bless Me, Ultima demonstrate overlapping cultural models and images of mutual intrafamilial cooperation, yet Faleasa and Antonio characterize divergent outcomes.

In the case of Pouliuli, intrafamilial cooperation pertains to food and shelter; however, it is not the focus of the text. Discerning how Faleasa exemplifies Samoan culture requires intense observation because of his fluctuating emotional state. Starting with his vomiting and demon-like behavior in the opening pages, Faleasa manifests symptoms of repressed anxiety in his role as matai. He admits to the readers that he is amused by the fear he generates in his family and uses ma’i aitu as a means of initializing his abdication of power. "Being possessed and deranged had definite advantages: he could, with impunity, scare the excrement out of all his worthless kin and village" (Wendt 6). He was bound to his hereditary position of matai, yet he felt powerless and resorted or succumbed to ma’i aitu.

If Faleasa announces that he was tired or emotionally drained by his long years of service to his people, his culture may consider his abdication a sign of weakness and a betrayal of the Samoan spirit (faa-Samoa). Faa-Samoa translates to the Samoan way of doing things or the Samoan way of life (Wendt 146). In the end, Faleasa’s deviation from faa-Samoa causes severe consequences. I believe Wendt is trying to expose an extreme but not unusual outcome in Samoan culture that is predictable from a Western perspective.

Eugenio D. Garza gives a Western perspective on familial life and social outcomes in Adolescent Mexican American Student Attitudes of Self-Concept . . . .

. . . [R]esearchers found that parents who were supportive, permissive, flexible, approving, consistent in discipline and who expected early independent behaviors in their children were promoting internal control attitudes in their children. Parents who were rejecting, punitive, critical, and dominating were promoting external control attitudes. (Garza 21)

Samoans and most human beings function within a social context where self-image and self-worth are derived from external sources; however, current American psychology maligns this practice.

An individual receives influences from the external stimuli of his or her society, which in turn influence self-image, yet the individual maintains control of the conceptualization and internalization of external stimuli. "Another person’s approval has no ability to affect your mood unless you believe what he or she says is valid" (Burns 256). Faleasa believes he is trapped in the role of matai because his harsh father and distant mother epitomize the rigid Samoan lifestyle. He felt captive and responded like a prisoner within the norms of his society.

Faleasa’s pervasive sense of captivity among "cannibals" stems from ". . . the programming [he] received from others and . . . the conditioning [he] subsequently. . . kept giving [himself] . . . was decided for [him] by someone else" (Helmstetter 23). If Faleasa had more cultural options, he may have accepted and exercised more personal autonomy. His rash activities signified his conception of life within Samoan cultural boundaries. Wendt portrays Samoan culture as a collective yet authoritarian society by demonstrating how the Samoan network of social scrutiny overpowers personal autonomy and subverts the production of self-esteem. This aberration of Western sensibilities broadens the semantic anthropologist’s appreciation of cultural intricacies and may provide evidence for some Western psychological theories.

Antonio experiences the antithesis of Faleasa’s rigid culture, yet frustration with the challenges of life is one point of intersection between Faleasa and Antonio. Cannibals, cannibalism, captivity, peer groups, and mediation are the essential components of this semantic "field study," and each of these words contains a point in their semantic fields signifying frustration. Each of these words reflects the connotations of a particular culture described by the individual, but governed by cultural programming.

Antonio realizes he could not meet the cultural expectations of both his father and mother, and, he is frustrated by the desire to please them. The verb "to frustrate" means: "To prevent from accomplishing a purpose or fulfilling a desire [and] to cause feelings of discouragement or bafflement" while "frustration" is the emotional state of being frustrated (American). The overlapping cultural image lies in the fact that frustration is a part of life that many cultures experience.

Frustration also characterizes two important aspects of the Samoan culture. The authoritarian nature of its social structure binds Faleasa to people he characterizes as cannibals, and the small physical size of the island makes him captive to their whims. Antonio’s frustration also generates reader empathy in the overlapping cultural image of coming of age. When Antonio discovers the inadequacies of his Catholic God, he experiences frustration’s synonymous nouns disappointment and dissatisfaction. His young, inquiring mind symbolizes the quest of the semantic anthropologist who seeks information from various sources. Both Antonio and a semantic anthropologist employ a combinatorial heuristic to define their conclusions. Although the wealth of information may be overwhelming, Antonio is blessed with a conciliatory father who acknowledges: "Ay, every generation, every man is part of his past. He cannot escape, but he may reform the old materials, make something new--" (Anaya 247). Antonio has the option of choosing from many paths, unlike Faleasa. The overlapping cultural image residing in this quagmire is that problematic situations have solutions. The individual must have the strength to function within the situational parameters, make decisions, and continue a productive life.

Antonio draws strength from his frustration when he seeks and accepts counseling from his friends, family members, and Ultima. Antonio’s counseling is healthier than the derisive input from Faleasa’s father, and Antonio derives personal fortitude from positive social contact. Talking about problems or sharing experiences provides models for transcending adverse situations. Ultima advises Antonio on many occasions; an important insight is: "You are growing, and growth is change. Accept the change, make it part of your strength--" (Anaya 245). The overlapping cultural image of change exemplifies deviations in familial composition, income, weather, cultural roles, health, and spirituality which constantly test human fortitude and resolve.

The divergent outcomes of Bless Me, Ultima and Pouliuli test Antonio’s and Faleasa’s familial and cultural training. From a Western perspective, Antonio has a superior developmental environment. Without idealizing Antonio’s familial environment, he receives positive reinforcement where Faleasa represses his emotions. Antonio has mentors; Faleasa did not. Antonio had freedom of movement and thought, while Faleasa was physically and culturally captive.

While reading multicultural texts, a semantic anthropologist seeks culturally explicit data in order to characterize and understand the "other" culture.

The manner in which the reader experiences the text will reflect his own disposition, and in this respect literary text acts as a kind of mirror; but at the same time, the reality which this process helps to create is one that will be different from his own. . . ." (Iser 281)

Iser implies that the light of a text is refracted through the lens of personal, cultural bias instead of simply being reflected. The interpretive skills of a semantic anthropologist discover overlapping human values highlighted in the text that validate the identity of the reader, and additionally, the characters in and the author of the text.

Several value systems--including cultural, spiritual, and academic--guide a semantic anthropologist’s inquiry. This unique and individual worldview influences interpretation, investigation, research, and discussion. Semantic training should broaden the investigator’s knowledge and augment the universality of the proposed solutions. Multicultural literature displays specific cultural practices allowing the semantic anthropologist insights into human diversity and empathy for overlapping human aspirations, norms, and decision processes. Human beings share the common interest of survival, and from this overlapping cultural image, we strive towards this goal through divergent means.

A semantic anthropologist endeavors toward becoming a culturally literate translator and a mediator of seemingly diverse cultural activities. Diligence in following the aims of semantic anthropology engenders the qualities discussed by Enrique R. Lamadrid in his critique, "Myth as the Cognitive Process of Popular Culture in Rudolfo Anaya’s Bless Me, Ultima." "It is [Ultima’s] role as a cultural mediator and Antonio’s natural inclination towards a similar calling that links them to their real power, which is the ability to recognize and resolve the internal contradictions of their culture" (Lamadrid 498). Resolving "internal contradictions" permits insight into the resolution of external cultural contradictions. However, the semantic anthropologist does not resolve contradictions; he or she mediates the similarities of overlapping cultural imagery.

Human similarities throughout history are abundant--religion or worship of deities, community or cultural grouping for mutual support, and the incessant quest for survival.

Of this history that is common in principle, if not always in fact, each family will retain only fragments, and to fill gaps will borrow from the others, while imposing its own perspective, events analogous to those which, or so it believed, its members had formerly participated. (Levi-Strauss 123)

Levi-Strauss alludes to the inherent shortcomings of the human memory and abstraction processes. However, language translation also hampers intercultural communication.

Each language contains a context governing culturally appropriate meaning, as anthropologist Richard Swiderski notes in his book, Teaching Language, Learning Culture.

Perhaps there can be culture teaching as there is language teaching, not just a study of culture as a set of manners and styles but presentation of culture that responds to its everyday practice, treating it as skills, knowledge and awareness characteristic of community members and not just as knowledge about those attributes. (Swiderski 9)

Culturally literate language knowledge also necessitates insight into culturally specific thinking processes.

. . . [I]n the Anglo teacher’s system of questioning, attention was more often directed to the sequencing of story events contained in the written story . . . . In contrast, in the Navajo teacher’s style, questions requiring the child to extend the written text to general knowledge and experience were more prevalent" (White 82, 84)

White contrasts the Anglo "linear thought" where

". . . the whole is revealed through the unfolding of the sections" and Navajo " holistic thought" in which

". . . the pieces derive their meaning from the pattern of the whole. . ." (86-7). These divergent thought processes drive culturally unique semantic heuristics, thereby, generating culturally specific semantic fields. However, the semantic anthropologist searches for overlapping cultural images found in common human experience like the need for peer groups (see above p. 84).

The modern academic community realizes the importance of multicultural understanding. Ray Jackendoff insightfully comments that ". . . the concept of group membership . . . appears to be a major source of gratuitous tension and hostility in the world" (Jackendoff 217). Semantic anthropology is a methodology capable of mediating similarity and difference with empathy, thereby discovering overlapping cultural aspirations. Reading multicultural texts is an academic experience that exposes the reader to the intricacies of other cultures and builds bridges of understanding between divergent cultures.

How can multicultural texts initiate cultural understanding? Literature is a unique media that instigates interactivity between the text and the reader. Literature is more than the extensional and intentional message of the author; it is more than the knowledge and thoughts of the reader. Reading literature is often described as a "journey" or "experience," which ignites an associative heuristic, drawing upon a unique and possibly universal human intellectual quality within the reader.

One factor is an aspect of human social understanding that isn’t present even in the higher primates: what psychologists call a theory of mind and common language calls empathy. . . . This ability obviously acts as a brake on inflicting harm. We are less reluctant to cause pain if we can imagine how it feels. [Emphasis added] (Jackendoff 217)

Semantic anthropology is more than a "vehicle" which acts as a "brake" against harm. Empathy denotes the "identification with and understanding of another’s situation, feelings, and motives" (American). Empathy relies upon knowledge and sympathy. Semantic anthropology combines investigational skills and multicultural texts in order to "drive" its advocates toward intercultural empathy.

Semantic anthropology delves into unique cultures using an interactive pedagogy that compensates for personal bias through cooperative education.

. . . [T]he purpose of this dialogue is to help one in the process of one’s own thinking, a process that . . . is a joint undertaking of a community of visible and invisible persons which ultimately includes the whole of mankind. (Krishna 198)

Critical reading and the ensuing discourse between students mediate the complex images within a text. The search for overlapping cultural images is a complex task. ". . . [S]tudents of literature have become amateur political scientists, uninformed sociologists, incompetent anthropologists, mediocre philosophers, and overdetermined cultural historians . . ." (Bloom 521). Using semantic anthropology for literary criticism demands a broad and competent knowledge, which, Bloom implies, is lacking or impossible to expect from current literary critics, yet these sciences and humanities converge on human behavioral patterns. Literature encompasses the totality of human experience--experiences common to human beings. A semantic anthropologist carries an intense interest in these patterns and endeavors to discover, rather than determine, cultural images through empathy. Education and experience should help a semantic anthropologist transcend "mediocre" interpretive skills.

Semantic anthropology provides an investigative method for critical reading, cultural investigation, and the discovery of authorial intention. At this point, a cursory look at the intention of Rudolfo Anaya, whose attitude may reflect other noteworthy authors.

We’re creators of culture; we love it. And in many ways, there is as much of a trap there as in anything else. I’m interested not only in the individual, but in the communal group . . . . I’m also interested in the fact that cultures can be as binding and enslaving as anything else. But they can also provide the context where you explore your relationships with other people, explore the possibility of being that authentic self . . . . I think that we have the possibility of making our culture a vehicle for the exploration of that self, for communal fulfillment. (Anaya, Interview 249-50)

Literature is a powerful medium for exploring the self and the "other." A single book is not a complete repository for cultural imagery, but each book provides a cultural snapshot, an image, that depicts cultural tendencies. Within these images are indications, manifestations, or characteristics that portray a culture and enlighten a reader.

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