E togia a le moa o le ta’afale. The chicken’s stoned for messing the house.

The year 1982 will always be remembered as the year we had three prime ministers in just ten months: Va’ai Kolone, Tupuola Efi and Tofilau Eti Alesana.

Va’ai was voted in as Prime Minister by the Human Rights Protection Party (HRPP) and three independents but lost his seat when the Supreme Court found against him in an election petition.

His Highness, the Head of State, Malietoa Tanumafili II, appointed Tupuola to replace him. Five months later on 21 December of that year, Tupuloa lost the vote on his budget which he had agreed was a vote of no confidence in him and his government.

Nine days later on 30 December 1982, Tofilau was sworn in as the third prime minister or the fourth if the caretaker prime ministership was included.

According to the former prime minister, Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi, the appointment of Tofilau was somewhat problematic to His Highness, the Head of State. In PALEMIA, his memoir with Dr Peter Swain, Tuilaepa wrote:

"Because of the previous high-handed actions of the Head of State when he appointed the Prime Minister directly without summoning Parliament, Malietoa was now facing a more difficult situation with Tofilau Eti, a non-tama-a-aiga. He was undecided about what to do. We [HRPP] had decided to send in Tofilau to ask him not to take on the burden by himself; instead, we argued that the best way forward was to have a general election."

Tupuola was with the Head of State, Tuilaepa wrote in his memoir when Tofilau arrived with the HRPP proposal to dissolve Parliament and call fresh elections.

The Head of State then told Tofilau of Tupuola’s own proposal that a government of unity be formed with Tofilau as Deputy PM and all the ministers be HRPP members with Tupuola as PM.

When Tofilau rejected Tupuola’s proposal and asked for dissolution, the Head of State asked Tofilau to form his government with Tupuola leading the opposition.

With time, no doubt, the events of 1982 will be forgotten by many people who were there 40 years ago, unless their memories are helped by books like Palemia and copies of old newspapers. Or because of special reasons, like mine.

It was five days since Tupuola Efi had to resign, because of his failure to pass his budget, and the country was still waiting to find out who the next prime minister was going to be.

Tofilau had assumed it was going to be him and was seen sitting at the prime minister’s desk, and when a critic suggested he should get out of the PM’s seat, Tofilau invited him to go and make him get out.

I was on a tight deadline and I was determined to be the first one to tell the country who the next head of government was going to be.

After going to the two opposing camps and being told that they were awaiting word from the Head of State, I decided to seek an interview with His Highness.

It has been more than ten years since, as a civil servant, I saw His Highness. I have never approached him as a reporter.

After geeing up on the honorifics, lau Susuga i le Tapa’au Faasisina, lau Susuga i le Malietoa na faalogo I ai Samoa; lau Afioga i le Ao Mamalu o le Malo, et cetera, I set off for Fa’ato’ia-le-manu. 

I found His Highness with the head of the Prime Minister’s Department, Maiava Iulai Toma, my old schoolmate from windy Wellington.

I went through my spiel with the honorifics and apologised for approaching His Highness at home, but I was on a tight deadline and the whole country was waiting for news of his decision on a prime minister.

With a benign half-smile on his face, His Highness looked pensively at me and said: E te susu mai nei, o lenei lava o loo liuliu faala’au mamafa le mataupu ma fesilisili poo ai lava lenei tufanua, le mafaufau ua na fai lenei mea. You have come just as we are discussing this boorish fellow, this thoughtless individual who has done this thing.

Hold on, I thought, Tofilau is the only one acting as if he’s the prime minister, is the Head of State saying that Tofilau is a boor? 

What exactly has this person done, I asked.

Oi, o lea e fia iloa poo ai ua to ai le Lady Samoa.

 Oi, we want to know who has knocked up the Lady Samoa.

Chastened, I quickly thanked His Highness and left. As soon as I was out of sight of the Head of State’s private residence, I started laughing. I laughed all the way to the office. 

When I told my staff the story of the pregnant Lady Samoa boat, Liva Seiuli, the famous writer of the Fealualua’i column of the paper summed it up, unfairly, I thought:

E togia a le moa o le ta’afale.