Growing Up with Death (Death and Mourning 4/5)

“To them [Samoans], birth and sex and death are the natural, inevitable structure of existence, of an existence in which they expect their youngest children to share. Our so often repeated comment that, ‘it’s not natural’ for children to be permitted to encounter death would seem as incongruous to them as if we were to say it was not natural for children to see other people eat or sleep. And this calm, matter-of-fact acceptance of their children’s presence envelops the children in a protective atmosphere, saves them from shock and binds them closer to the common emotion which is so dignified permitted to them” (Mead 1961/1928: 220).

Margaret Mead’s classic Coming of Age in Samoa is so powerful because it clearly knows its core audience: American parents, teachers, and anybody else that is part of the child rearing process. By comparing and contrasting practices in the US versus Samoa (remember, however, that this research took place in the early 1920’s), Mead asks adults to rethink the ways children – especially girls in this case – are led to understand the world around them. One such topic she briefly discusses is death. For Mead, American children are maladjusted to the situation of death. “Our children, confined within one family circle […] often owe their only experience with birth or death to the birth of a younger brother or sister or the death of a parent or grandparent” (Mead 1961/1928: 217). This, Mead explains, can lead to placing heavy emotional understanding on a singular experience. Whereas in Samoa, where children are enveloped in a larger community “in a civilization which suspects privacy” (Mead 1961/1928: 219), children have multiple experiences with death which help inform them how to behave. “One impression corrects an earlier one until they are able, as adolescents, to think about life and death and emotion without undue preoccupation with the purely physical details” (Mead 1961/1928: 220). In Mead’s analysis (pertinent to the time she was writing it, but also still holding relevance today in some aspects) Samoan children were socialized to see death as a natural occurring process in which they are included, whereas American children were sequestered away from the happening, shielded, and only brought to encounter death a few times in their young lives.

Mead’s book is a classic read that illustrates the multitude of possibilities in which people live. People in Samoa today may or may not continue along these same lines of practice (if anybody has any modern day sources on this topic, articles, or books, feel free to post in comments), but what is important is understanding that there are plenty of ways to approach death, and as humans and as societies we must make sure we are approaching it in healthy and beneficial ways for everybody.

References:
Mead, M. 1961 [1928]. Coming of Age in Samoa. New York, NY: Morrow Quill Paperbacks.

Tehei’s First Dives (2/3)

“After, when my father went during the daytime to the quai to fish for octopus, I always went with him. And sometimes I was afraid. But my dad sensed this, he could sense it. If a shark was near both of us it could sense my fear too. And my dad said this: ‘You must never have fear. If you are afraid the shark will not leave.’ I was crying then and said, ‘Ah, no, I don’t want this, no!’ Little by little, sometimes after I practiced and practiced and practiced I began to get good at diving. Sometimes I went all by myself. If I told my dad this, he would say, “No, no, no, you must never go alone, it isn’t good.’ But I didn’t listen to him. I would watch my father and if he wasn’t paying me any attention this is what I did: I took the mask and the speargun with the flippers and everything and I went. And when he saw that I wasn’t there he went to look at the fishing materials. When he would see the materials missing he would say, ‘Ah, no, Tehei went diving again!’ I did this all the time.” – Tehei of Vaitahu, Age 31

Tehei’s First Dives (1/3)

“I was seven years old. My dad and Fiu’s dad were in the water. My oldest brother Toua stayed in the canoe to watch over it. And I was little. I said to my dad, I also want to go in the water. My dad said, “No, no, no, no.” In the moment that he dove down, I jumped in the water. I dove behind him. When my dad saw me, he said, “Ah, no, no! Return to the boat! Go, go!” Afterwards I cried and cried and cried, and my dad said, “Come, come.” So I went alongside my father. I had a mask, but no light. I was behind my dad. And my dad, he couldn’t very well fish because he was all the time beside me, watching me. So… there you go. It was night! That was my first dive, in the night” – Tehei of Vaitahu, 31 years old

Original French:

“J’ai sept ans. Eh… mon père avec le pere de Fiu, ete dans la mer. Et mon frère Toua il était le plus grand dans le pirogue pour garder le pirogue. Et moi j’etait petit. Et j’ai disais a mon père, je veux aussi aller à la mer. Mon père a dit, ‘Non, non, non, non.’ Au moment que mon père a plongé, j’ai parti plonger. Parti derrière. Quand mon père a vu, il dit, ‘Ah, non, non! Tu retourne dans le pirogue. Aller aller!’ Apres j’ais pleure pleure pleure, mon père a dit ‘Come, come.’ J’ai etait a coté de mon père. Avec un mask. Mais sans la lumière. Sans lumière. J’étais derrière de mon père. Et mon père, il peut pas bien pêcher parce qu’il était tout le temps la, me surveyer. Ben… voila. La nuit! C’est mon premier plonge. C’est la nuit.”