Brothers and Sisters Talofa and Aloooooha!
I would like to thank President Tanner for this golden opportunity for me to address you today. This past Saturday I was taking my twin grandbabies home and in the car I said, “Hey, don’t forget grandma’s devotional on Tuesday, grandma is going to speak.” Huali, the oldest asked, “Grandma who asked you to speak?” I said, “The President of the University.” “How come he asked you to speak?” “Ah, maybe because I’m special.” She excitedly said, “Yay, I can’t wait for him to ask me to speak.” Hala’i her sister quickly said, “Not me, no thanks.” My grandbabies are just beginning to find their voice and learn how to sing gospel truths. So Huali will give all speeches and Hala’i will write them. Kilinahe their little sister is their boss. I love them with my heart!
My dear friend Irene Lesuma and I were in the temple one Saturday morning waiting for our turn to do initiatory and she asked me how I was doing with my devotional preparations. I told her it’s coming along. She shared with me that the morning of her devotional she cried in her room and she asked, “Heavenly Father, are you really there.” I just smiled and giggled. I really wanted to laugh but we were in the temple. She reassured me that I will do just fine. I would like to tell my dear friend Irene that Heavenly Father was definitely there during her devotional and she found her voice and shared with us beautiful melodies of the gospel that were both wonderful and inspiring. Now for me this morning, after I said my morning prayer, I was too excited to cry as my heart was racing, “Master the Tempest is Raging.” I know by the end of our devotional I will gladly say, “master, the terror is over, peace, peace, be still.”
I grew up in the village of Fitiuta, Manu’a in American Samoa. Fitiuta is one of the 3 villages on the island of Ta’u, Manu’a. It is 70 miles east of the main island of Tutuila, American Samoa. In the 1960s, I lived in the village of Fitiuta with my family until I was 12 years old when we moved here to Hawaii. The only form of transportation between the main island of Tutuila and the Manu’a islands is a small steam ship that travels there once a week. There is no wharf so the ship would dock out in the blue ocean and the villagers would row a longboat out to meet the ship and pick up the supplies and the passengers. It is very dangerous and wet especially when the tide is high. I remembered one of those trips our family were told to wait for two missionaries that will be coming from Tutuila to Fitiuta. So, our family went to the shore to wait for the ship to arrive. I was watching from the shore as the men of the village rowed the longboat out to meet the ship, and for some reason my Dad wasn’t on the longboat. I saw two missionaries with white shirts standing on the edge of the ship getting ready to jump on to the longboat but they were stopped by some of the men indicating that they are not to board the longboat.
However, the men reached out for the missionaries’ suitcases. When they got the suitcases from the missionaries, they threw them in the blue ocean and I can see the suitcases floating away. My father saw what was happening to our palagi (Caucasian) missionaries so he waited until the longboat returned to shore. When they returned my Dad jumped in the longboat and told the men of the village that the two missionaries are ministers of his church and they are supposed to respect and honor them just like how they respect the minister of their LMS church. So, the men and along with my Dad went back to the ship and picked up our two missionaries. I’m not sure about their suitcases though. They were shocked and probably wished that they could go back to Tutuila on the steam ship right then and there but they stayed. It was this experience that was the beginning of the missionaries’ journey of finding their voice in the village of Fitiuta and find ways to continue to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Our family were the only members of the church in the village of Fitiuta. As you can see in this picture my beautiful mom and that is me she’s holding. My mom’s parents the man with the white hair and my grandma next to him. They are my sister Grace’s parents in the next life. The tall palagi Elder standing in the back and next to him is my father and the rest of my own family, my siblings, cousins, uncle and my Dad’s mother Malia. The rest of the village belonged to the LMS congregational church. We didn’t have a chapel. I don’t think we were officially a branch of the Church but missionaries were sent to our village because our family were members of the church. Our Sunday meetings were held at my grandfather’s house. We only had sacrament meeting which consist of an opening song and prayer, talks from the missionaries and blessing and passing of the sacrament and closing song and prayer. We didn’t have primary, so I didn’t know any primary songs, but somehow in my young life, through the teachings of the missionaries and my parents, I knew that:
“I am a child of God,
And he has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear.
I am a child of God,
And so my needs are great:
Help me to understand His words,
Before it grows too late.
I am a child of God,
Rich blessings are in store:
If I but learn to do His will,
I’ll live with him once more.
(chorus)
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me,
Help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do,
To live with him some day.”
Finding my voice and learning how to sing started at a very young age. My dad loved to play the guitar and sing those old Samoan folk songs that has 12 verses and 12 choruses. Thank goodness my Dad had a nice voice or it would have been difficult and problematic to listen to 12 versus and 12 choruses of the same song every day. My father played the trumpet. I don’t know who gave him the trumpet but he would blow the trumpet in the morning before he goes to the plantation and also at night after dinner. But I think it was more of a show off type of thing with my Dad because he was the only one in the village that had a trumpet and he wasn’t really playing an actual song. He would just blow two notes and hold it out really long as if it was a song then he would stop and then he would clean the trumpet, you know kind of making it like he was really a professional trumpet player. He got better as time went on.
My mother played the piano and sings very well. Some of you might remember those days the piano where you had to pump it with your two feet in order for the piano to work. My two older sisters stayed with my grandparents but me and my brother stayed with my parents so we were exposed to music and these musical instruments while we were growing up. My brother is an accomplished guitar player and singer and he also plays the trumpet. My mother taught me how to play the piano and how to sing. I only knew how to play one song in the Samoan hymn book “ia fiafia pea.” It had no flats or sharps but it got my interest in playing the piano at a very young age. I was so proud to be able to play one song on the piano. In fact, my mother
Would sometimes ask me to play that one song during our Sunday meeting. So, who was showing off now? When I think about it now, my father was showing off for the right reasons. You see, it was their musical talent and abilities that helped my parents and family to preach the gospel to the people of Fitiuta, Manu’a. Our missionaries were not allowed to proselyte or go into the people’s home. The people refused to hear about Joseph Smith. In fact, they would tease us and call us names like, “Iosefa Samita pepelo” meaning Joseph Smith is a liar or Joseph Smith’s story is false. The missionaries forge ahead with their work even when rejection by the people were a normal day for them.
President Hinckley in one of his conference talks titled, “Joseph Smith, Truly a Prophet,” said that an acquaintance said to him one day: “‘I admire your church very much. I think I could accept everything about it-except Joseph Smith.’ To which I responded: ‘That statement is a contradiction. If you accept the revelation, you must accept the revelator.’” As the missionaries continue to find ways to preach the gospel, one of the things that they did was to have our own activities on mutual nights. The nonmember children and youth in the village would come to our mutual nights and just sit outside and watch from outside of my grandfather’s house. They would listen to our music and watch us do our activities. They never ask to join us although we invited them. They were just curious as to what the Mormons were doing on Thursday night and Sunday nights when we have our firesides. These were the same children of those parents in the village that refused to let our missionaries into their homes. They were the same kids that would tease me and my brother at school or after school that we were mogamogas (cockroaches) rhymes with the word Mamona in Samoan which means Mormon in English. A lot of verbal confrontations and throwing of rocks those days between us and the kids of the village. I’m still alive today because I was very good at ‘alo (dodging) when the rocks are coming my way or run fast to get out of the way. Our missionaries experienced the same treatment from the people of Fitiuta.
In D&C 6: 32-34,
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, as I said unto my disciples, where two or three are gathered together in my name, as touching one thing, behold, there will I be in the midst of them-even so am I in the midst of you.
Fear not to do good, my sons, for whatsoever he sow, that shall ye also reap; therefore, if he sow good he shall also reap good for your reward.
Therefore, fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon the rock, they cannot prevail.”
We as members of the church were solid as a rock in our testimony of the gospel even when the real rocks were thrown to us and to the missionaries, nothing is compared to what our earlier missionaries went through and suffered because of the stubborn people of Fitiuta at that time. This was way before my parents and our family moved to Fitiuta.
One of those missionaries was the man by the name of Opapo Fonoimoana. Opapo Fonoimoana is Carl Fonoimoana’s grandfather. Carl wrote and presented a paper at the Mormon Pacific Historical Society conference here on campus back in 1980. The paper entitled, “Opapo-Man of Miracles.” This story is in the historical archives here in our school library.
In that paper Carl wrote about his grandfather’s many miracles as he preached the gospel in Samoa. One of those places that he was sent to was Manu’a. Carl wrote, his grandfather had a dream, and in his dream he saw two palagi faifeau (Caucasian missionaries) foreign missionaries came to his village and walked right into his house and sat down. That was the end of his dream. But later on, when two Mormon missionaries entered into their village and came up to their house and walked in, he not only recognized the two as the men in his dream, but by his own account the spirit told him that the gospel message was true. It was then the stage was set for this simple man to do great work for the church.
Carl continued,
Opapo Fonoimoana and his longtime friend Elisala and two white missionaries were sent to Manu’a. When they arrived, they found that their arrival has been forewarned and that the king Tuimanu’a had given strict instructions forbidding anyone from receiving, housing, feeding, clothing or assisting the Mormon missionaries in any way. It was a difficult situation for all concerned. Even though some people may have wanted to accept the missionaries and care for them, as is the normal custom to care and assist the ministers, the fear of reprisals from this dominant king his harsh edit was too much for anyone to go against.
The consequence of accepting these missionaries would be an immediate stoning of that individual or individuals. The prospects of any conversion was hopeless. Nevertheless, the missionaries were very determined and stayed two months on Manu’a. Without other food to eat, they relied heavily on fallen coconuts on the beaches and small staples. Without a fale or house for shelter and sleeping, they had to dig holes on the beach. They would enter the deep holes and the last one would cover their heads with leaves as to protect them from mosquitos, each one taking a turn nightly to help the others arrange their leaves and then unassisted himself, suffering from mosquitos bites the rest of the night.
After several weeks of this grueling ordeal, Opapo was awakened by the smell of some freshly baked food in a nearby basket. The missionaries did not know whether through human or divine source; but after weeks of coconuts, they were profoundly grateful. Near the end of their stay the incident was repeated when an elderly woman brought them some food, saying that if she had to die for her kindness, she would, but she did not fear Tuimanu’a. A few weeks later, after exhausting every possible avenue, the missionaries prepared to depart. Ceremonially, Opapo and Elisala spoke directly to tuimanu’a and his people, warning them that they would feel the wrath and power of God if they did not repent. As his last act before boarding the longboat, Opapo paused at the edge of the village and dusted off his feet as a witness against the island. A couple of weeks later a devastating hurricane struck the island, killing many, destroying all of the crops above ground, and leveling every house except one-the fale (hut) in which lived the elderly lady who had helped the missionaries. It is true that miracles strengthen the faith of believers but do not necessarily give faith to the unbelieving.
D&C 75: 18-20--
“Yea, let all those take their journey, as I have commanded them, going from house to house, and from village to village, and from city to city.
And in whatsoever house ye enter, and they receive you, leave your blessing upon that house.
And in whatsoever house ye enter, and receive you not, ye shall depart speedily from that house, and shake off the dust of your feet as a testimony against them.”
I would like to believe that the elderly woman that helped Opapo and the missionaries was my grandmother, Malia. She is my Dad’s mother. And if it wasn’t her, then it is definitely something my grandmother Malia would do. She was a convert to the church. She too had a dream. In her dream, she saw 2 personages wearing white appearing on her ulu or breadfruit tree in front of her fale or hut. When she awoke in the morning and shared her dream with her family, she noticed that her ulu tree in front of her fale has now bear two types of breadfruits, one ulu maopo and one ulu ma’afala. It was then she knew that the church was true and she was baptized. That ulu tree continued to bare two types of breadfruits and it was a symbol of my grandmother’s testimony to everyone that came to Fitiuta, Manu’a of the truthfulness of the gospel. That story has been told many times and the ulu tree became a landmark where people would go and see and be amazed. It was through this dream that my grandmother found her voice and never stopped singing in bearing testimony about Joseph Smith and the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Missionaries continued to come to Fitiuta. One of those great missionaries was Elder Larry Oler. Many of you that have been here in the community and here on campus know of this great man, Brother Larry Oler. I used to call him Dadio Oler. He was like a second Dad to me. He married my parents when he was on his mission in Fitiuta. It wasn’t until we moved to Laie from Samoa that I was introduced to Brother Oler and his wife Pat and their 10 wonderful children. We were in the same ward for a long time. He was the Dean of students here on campus and he helped a lot of students especially pacific islanders since he served both in Samoa and New Zealand as principal of the church schools.
Elder Oler helped my Dad strengthen his testimony of the gospel especially about the word of wisdom. He stopped smoking kapaa (Samoan cigarettes) and was ordained the Aaronic Priesthood. My Father’s testimony and faith were tested when he went against the rules of the village. The matai system in the village was very prevalent and they had strict rules that govern the affairs of the village. My dad was part of the aumaaga, the young single and married men of the village that takes care of some of the affairs of the village. He continued to serve with the village aumaaga even as a member of the church. That was his duty to serve in the village. The men of the village were not pleased with him because he became a Mormon. Those days the village worshipped certain idols of a prominent king or high chief of stature in manu’a. They built a pa (tower) of black rocks. This is situated right in the walkway or path where the people of the village pass as they walk to their plantations or to go fishing. They are expected to pay their respect when they pass the tower of black rocks with complete silence. At this time my father’s testimony of the church was solid and he knew there is only one God and we should not worship idols, so he decided that he was going to destroy this tower of rocks, and he did. The matais of the village heard about it and discovered that their idol tower was completed demolished and it was no longer there. So, the word went around the village and it was told to my dad and our family that my dad will die the very next day.
Well, my father not only moved his family from Samoa to Hawaii in 1969 so we can be sealed in the temple and for his children to have a better education. He retired from BYU-Hawaii as a landscaper and worked as an ordinance worker in the temple until his passing. My dad didn’t know any English when he arrived here. So how did he become a temple ordinance worker if he didn’t know any English? He self-taught himself by pronouncing the words and ask his children to help him pronounce them back and visa versa.
President David Hannemann, then the President of the Laie Hawaii Temple would always tell me when he sees me that, “Your father is a very spiritual man and he takes his work in the temple very seriously. I would find your dad in an empty room in the temple praying and studying.” He continued to be this kind of example to us his children and to others. He would proudly tell us, you know I work as a landscaper at BYUH and they are my boss, but when the professors come to the temple, I am their boss. He was so proud to work as a session officiator in the temple.
In Matthew 16:25, “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.” He knew the church was true and he would give his life for it.
There was a story that was told by one of the apostles in his conference talk about a child being trapped in a hole in the ground, who could only be extricated by sending another smaller child into the tunnel. One little fellow was approached to see if he would be willing to go down and rescue the one who was lodged. The lad said, “I am scared to go in that hole, but I will go if my father will hold the rope.” My father found his voice in the gospel of Jesus Christ and he never stopped singing wonderful and righteous melodies of the gospel. He has been holding that rope for me and my siblings and he has never let go. He taught us children what he knew and never stop teaching us even when it was difficult for him at times.
My Dad was a 5th grade dropout. He stopped going to school so he can take care of his mother. He was a fisherman by trade and worked very hard in his plantation and every day he would go to his plantation in the mountains and gather coconuts and dry the coconut meat out in the sun and then sell the dry meat to the government to make oil and this was the way he earned money for our airfares to come to Hawaii.
In a talk given by Elder Russell M. Ballard, entitled, “Let Our Voices Be Heard” he stated,
The Family is at the heart of Heavenly Father’s plan because we are all part of His family and because mortality is our opportunity to form our own families and to assume our role of parent. It is within our families that we learn unconditional love, which can come to us and draw us close to God’s love. It is within families that values are taught and character is built. Father and Mother are callings from which we will never be released, and there is no more important stewardship than the responsibility we have for God’s spirit children who come into our families.
I mentioned that my Dad had a 5th grade education. I also mentioned that my siblings and I were teased a lot in school because we were Mormons. So my Dad and Mom would encourage us kids to do well in school. To my parents, this would be another way for us Mormons to preach the gospel and to show that Mormons are really smart and hopefully it will lessen the teasing or completely stop it. So no pressure there for me and my brother, but we did just that. In those days in elementary school in Fitiuta, they have what we called “Lau Togi” or calling of final grades, where all of our parents would come to school at the end of the school year and the principal would call out loud the top 3 students of each class. It was a big deal.
Parents would anxiously wait for their kids names to be called. I’m happy to say that I was always first place in the top 3 kids of my class and I even skipped grade and moved up to my brother’s class and we graduated together in 1973 from Kahuku High School. Not bad yeah. I’m not sharing this with you to boast about me, well maybe I am, but it’s okay. It was a long time ago. I’m old now. My parents were right about us doing well in school. We earned the respect from the principal and the teachers and even the kids of the village. They became our friends and the teasing stopped. We were known to be the smart Mormon kids. I have wonderful memories of my parents growing up and how much love they have for us and they would do anything to make sure we succeed even in hard times.
There will be times when we will lose our voice and would stop singing due to our disobedient to the Lord’s commandments. I know my brother doesn’t mind me sharing this. My brother was an all-star football player from Kahuku High School. He was an all-state and all American. He had a full ride scholarship to the University of Wyoming. My father loved watching his son played football so when Wyoming was going to play BYU he wanted to go to the mainland and watch that game. This was his first trip to the mainland. He stayed with my brother and his roommate. Wyoming beat BYU that year. My dad was happy for my brother and his team but at the same time he was sad. It was constantly in his mind the fact that when he opened the refrigerator in my brother’s apartment
He found the refrigerator full of cans of beer. Before my Dad returned to Hawaii, in his own father and son conversations and counseling he told my brother, “if you do not honor your priesthood, you will never play professional football.” Long story short, my brother was invited to try out for the Oakland raiders and he got hurt and never had the opportunity to play pro football. My brother was bitter for a long time and he even told me that our dad cursed him. I told him that our Dad didn’t curse him. He merely reminded him of his upbringing in the church especially honoring his priesthood and how important that is in his life and all the blessings that come with it.
He continued to be inactive. But just last year, he called me from Montana if I had sent the missionaries to his home, and I told him No. He said that the missionaries showed up to his home and they also invited him to go to church. He did go to sacrament meeting. I encouraged him to continue to go to church and also take his wife with him. I reminded him of his foundation in the church when we were young and that he needs to return back to church and enjoy the many wonderful blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. He is trying and hopefully he will return back to full activity in the church for I know it will bless his life and that of his family. On a side note, even though he didn’t play pro football, he was inducted into the University of Wyoming Hall of Fame last year. I was able to go up to Wyoming and represented our family and supported my brother for this honor.
How can we restore our voice and sing again? In President David O. McKay words, “The purpose of the gospel is to make bad men good and good men better-to change men’s lives.” President David O. McKay words are definitely true.
Missionary work in Fitiuta Manua’s did not go unnoticed. The seeds of the gospel were planted and it has flourished decades later. Many of those little kids that teased us as mogamogas or cockroaches are now members of the church and have served as bishops and wives to bishops and relief society presidents. Some of them have become Stake Presidents both in Samoa and in the mainland. Their children have served missions.
I spoke with President Art Hannemann recently and he said missionary work is doing well in Manu’a. There is a couple missionary in Fitiuta and two sister missionaries. A high councilman who was here recently from Samoa told me that the Relief Society sisters in Fitiuta are ready to go to the temple take out their own endowments in the Apia Samoa temple. We have a beautiful temple in Apia, Samoa. That is so wonderful and I’m elated for the women of the church in Fitiuta. He said the men are still working on the word of wisdom but they will eventually see how important it is for them to be worthy and seal their families in the temple.
Elder Ronald A. Rasband talk’s in this past October general conference titled, “Divine Design”, shared with us when President Thomas S. Monson said to Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, “There is guiding hand above all things. Often when things happen, it’s not by accident. One day, when we look back at the seeming coincidences of our lives, we will realize that perhaps they weren’t so coincidental after all.”
I know and believe that everything that happened in my life growing up in Fitiuta was not coincidental. Remember that one song that my mother taught me on the piano? My calling right now in my ward is the assistant organist. I didn’t take any formal piano lessons. I only learned from my mother but I took it upon myself to learn about sharps and flats and practiced and now I can play a lot of songs and serve our Heavenly Father.
I love our living prophet Thomas S. Monson and I know he is the mouthpiece of the Lord upon this earth. I love President Gordon B. Hinckley. He was a counselor to President Harold B. Lee in 1973 when he spoke these words in his talk entitled, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” We are the only church can properly sing, “We thank thee O God, for a Prophet to guide us in these latter days. We either have a prophet or we have nothing; and having a prophet, we have everything.”
In conclusion, I would like to sing and along with the choir this beautiful song called, “What Is This Thing That Men Call Death?” President Gordon B. Hinckley wrote this poem. Janice Kapp Perry was asked to put it to music. President Hinckley was our prophet at a time in my life when I lost my own voice but through repentance I was able to restore my voice and sing again. With my firm testimony of the true gospel of Jesus Christ, I will never lose my voice again. This beautiful song was sung at President Hinckley’s funeral.
What is this thing that men call death,
This quiet passing in the night?
'Tis not the end but genesis
Of better worlds and greater light.
O God, touch Thou my aching heart
And calm my troubling, haunting fears.
Let hope and faith, transcendent, pure,
Give strength and peace beyond my tears.
There is no death, but only change,
With recompense for vict'ry won.
The gift of Him who loved all men,
The Son of God, the Holy One.