My marriage to Joseph Phoenix was not as glamorous as most teenage girls would dream of: it was a visit to the court, exchanging our vows and than a short reception at my favorite restaurant in American Samoa: Matai, just in Fagatogo and next to the court. I had three children now: Lucianna, Fanny and Mila. It was a year later since my sisters and brother consented for my hand in marriage. I swear if it were not for my respect for my father who made me promise to follow my sisters and brother’s pledge on his death bed, I would have been married to Abraham.
The party was fun, only my sisters, brothers and mother came for my side and Joe’s parents, siblings and friends for his side. The restaurant was huge, but our small party filled it up for the day. As I was eating my fried prawn with bananas, I felt something wet inside. My water had broke! It was too late, as I screamed in pain. My sister, Anna, called the ambulance. Luckily, Anna was a practitioner. She told the men to lay me on the table. I pushed so hard as my husband stood by me. My sister was doing all the work. Right there on that moment, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I called him Ray, after Joseph’s stepfather.
