Welcome to The Island Life

There was a time when we looked up. We looked up to the sky to feel the warmth of the sun. We looked up at the stars to wonder about our place in the world. We looked up in church, in prayer, in gratitude, in search of the One who gave us life. But now, we look down. Down at our screens. Down at digital worlds that demand our attention. Down at the notifications that keep us coming back for more likes, comments, videos, gossip, noise. What was meant to connect us now consumes us. What was once a tool has become our master. And slowly, without even noticing, we’ve replaced the Creator’s wonders with man-made distractions. Phones were supposed to help us communicate but they’ve silenced our homes. Families sit under the same roof, yet worlds apart. Children grow, parents age, time passes and still, our eyes are fixed downward. We scroll through highlight reels while the real moments slip away. We’ve traded in time with God for time with algorithms. We’ve given up real conversations for c...

There’s a quiet shift happening on our island—a movement that hides behind handshakes, backroom deals, and under-the-table cash. Our borders, once sacred and protected, are now being opened illegally by our very own people. Not for the good of the land, not for the future of our children—but for money. We watch as outsiders from other places step onto our soil and quickly become residents. Not through respect, not through love for our culture, but through shortcuts and loopholes created by our own people in power. Those who sit high in the immigration offices—those we trusted to guard the gates—have traded loyalty for dollar signs. And what happens next? These same outsiders build their corner stores in the blind spots of our villages—always near the churches where they know the flow of money never stops. They study us. They learn our patterns. They speak our language. They blend in. And they thrive—not because they love the land, but because they know how to work the system we allowed...

There’s something that happens when our people leave the island chasing after the American dollar. It’s a promise that looks good on the outside—higher wages, more opportunity, the so-called American Dream. But what they don’t tell you is the price you pay once you get there. And I’m not just talking about money. You trade in the sound of the ocean for traffic noise. You swap fresh air for smog, and quiet evenings for the hustle of a 9 to 5 that drains your spirit. You work all day just to make ends meet. Rent, bills, insurance, gas, food—everything that was once free or shared here back home, you now pay for with every drop of your time and energy. And then there's the irony: back home, you could have it all in a couple of days—fresh fish from the ocean, fruits from the trees, laughter in the fale, and peace that doesn’t cost a thing. But over there, you spend 50 years chasing that dream, always working, never arriving. The saddest part? Most don’t come back. The ones that left, t...

  When the collection plate becomes louder than the gospel. Here in Samoa, we are known for our faith. The saying goes: “Sāmoa muamua le Atua”  Samoa, God first. It’s something we say with pride, and it’s been passed down through generations. Our churches are the center of our villages, our families, and our Sunday mornings. On this tiny island, you’ll find a church on nearly every block, across from another, and another not by accident, but by design. We’ve built a culture where faith is everywhere you look. But what happens when faith becomes tangled in money? What does it say about our culture when putting “God first” comes at the cost of a family’s last meal? It’s time we talk about it. In many villages, families are expected to give large amounts of money for church obligations whether it’s a White Sunday event, a pastoral celebration, or simply a weekly collection. These expectations don’t ask whether your children have eaten that day, whether your bills are pa...

  What good is gold when you don’t know it’s yours to protect? We live on a small island, surrounded by ocean and quiet winds. To the outside world, it’s just a speck on the map a dot in the vast blue of the Pacific. But for those of us who call it home, we know the truth: this island is a gold mine. Not in the way people usually think of gold. No, we don’t have diamonds or oil or flashing city lights. But what we have is rarer: rich culture, untouched beauty, deeply rooted traditions, and a people whose warmth could melt even the hardest hearts. Our land, our waters, our language, our ways, this is the treasure. And yet, something is happening. Something painful. Something we don’t always want to talk about. See, this gold mine? It’s been left open. Not protected, not fully understood, and worst of all not valued by the very people who live on it. We’ve grown used to outsiders showing up, digging into our resources, our culture, our opportunities and walking away with pr...

Living simply, loving deeply, and honoring the Samoan way. There’s a certain kind of peace that lives in the islands. It’s not found in fast-moving cities or within the noise of the world. It’s in the sound of the wind rustling through coconut trees, the laughter of children running barefoot in the grass, the smell of home-cooked food wafting through the open fale, and the quiet respect exchanged between young and old. This is The Island Life—and I’m so excited to share it with you. I created this blog as a window into our world here in the islands, where we live with intention, simplicity, and love. Our lifestyle is deeply rooted in fa‘a Samoa, the traditional Samoan way of life. Everything we do—how we speak, what we wear, how we gather, how we serve others—is built on values passed down from generation to generation: respect, humility, service, and strong family ties. Our way of living may seem old-fashioned to some, but to us, it’s everything. It’s in the way we still tend to the l...