The Veil of Money

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 them into.

They’re taking over more than just convenience stores now. They’re moving into our markets, undercutting our local vendors. They’re buying up farmland, controlling what gets sold and how much it costs. Our own local farmers—who’ve worked the soil for generations—can’t compete. The land that once fed our people is being turned into a business that no longer belongs to us.

While they support each other and build up their businesses, our own people are struggling. We see the cost of living rise, prices at the faleoloa go up, and who’s paying the price? The tagata Samoa. The villagers. The elders. The families trying to get by with honest work and humble means.

Our people are leaving. Not because they want to—but because they feel forced out by a system that no longer protects them. Our lands are slowly being claimed by people who don’t share our blood, our customs, or our commitment to the fa'a Samoa way of life.

This is more than just economics. This is about identity. It’s about pride. It’s about protecting the land our ancestors walked on, the land they prayed over, the land they died for. We cannot keep living under the veil of money—chasing short-term gains while losing everything that makes us who we are.

To those who continue to sell us out: is your pocket full enough to pay for the loss of your people’s future? Will you be proud to tell your grandchildren you let it all slip away for a few thousand dollars?

It’s time to wake up. To tighten the gates. To protect our borders—not just from outsiders, but from our own who’ve forgotten what it means to serve the people.

This is our home. Our land. Our legacy. Not for sale. Not for trade. Not for convenience.

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