Elderly Sister Maria Mulipola of the Missionary Sisters of the Society of Mary (SMSM), in an interview with this newspaper last week said, “The world is forever changing and so many challenges come in as years go by hence why the number of crimes continue to increase unlike how life was back then, it was very simple.”

How true. Every elderly person, including myself, occasionally reminisces about the simplicity of life in the olden days. No internet, mobile phones, social media, TV, refrigerator, gas stove, a couple of radios in the whole village - not a single owned a car while canoes and kulula (rowing boats) lined the beach – all those things that are now necessary for most families. Even owning a box of matches or lighters was rare. Our family had live embers glowing continuously day and night at one end of our pebble-floored fale for my father to light his Samoan tobacco and for us to get the kitchen going. Otherwise, we had to make our own fire by rubbing dried sticks together, a skill that today’s young people will have difficulty demonstrating.

Our needs then were simple and our values very communal as we had not really bought into the monetized economy that now dominates our lives and determines our needs. Whatever we had plenty of then, we would share it with those around us. When the family’s sa’o (chief) receives a sua he would share it with his extended family – not drive off to the nearest supermarket to have it exchanged for cash. Then, they believed in the old saying, o le tamāli’i ia e mativa lava (a matai who cares about his family is always materially poor.)

The essence of life then was the family, village, and the district. Their ‘rule of law’ as opposed to that of the government, was one that everyone understood and followed. In most instances, they were stricter, and punishment for transgressors were sometimes harsher than those dished out by our courts today. We still see vestiges of these harsh decisions in some villages, based more on an “eye for an eye…” belief like mū le foaga and ati ma le lau concepts, or hog-tying someone for defying their village edict.

As Sister Mulipola reflected, crimes then were non-existent. Not only because the village ‘law and order’ was adhered to by everyone; there was also this deep respect for the Pulega a Ali’i ma Faipule decision-making and administration process. (Yes, we had good governance transparency and accountability then as they were integral part of our fa’a-Samoa. We’ve had them for hundreds of years but did not articulate them in the way the palagi public sector reformers did when they sold us these concepts.) Coupled with that is the fact that our families were quite stable. They had rules and guidelines that every member adhered to. They shaped the way they behave towards others and instill in them respect for their persons and properties.

Families, once the evening curfew sounded, would all assemble in their home for prayers, followed by the evening meal and instruction for the next day’s activities. Those who broke village rules get a ticking off and reminded of the shame their behaviour had brought the family and that such offending had consequences. It was an environment where parents talk to their children often reinforcing good, moral values and behaviour, and the need to respect those in authority and follow rules.

Then, people were not mobile but rooted to their village existence. Unlike today when young people tend to drift off to urban areas around town as soon as they are old enough, simply to escape village life or for some parents, in the belief that the standard of education in Apia is superior to that of that available in villages. Unfortunately, some of their children have ended up leading a rudderless existence creating huge problem for our Police and the courts.

When I first met my partner and her six children residing near town, there were times when I asked myself, “What have you got yourself into, Mr.?” Our oldest then was always in trouble with the school, and with the Police on a couple of occasions. I was determined to change their ways. When I took them to New Zealand 10 years ago, our home had only a radio, books from opportunity shops and newspapers but no TV for a year. We had rules: ‘no phones until they turned sixteen; no hoods inside the house; make your bed every morning and everyone had to be at home at dinner time unless they had extra-curricular activities at school to attend. This provided us with a ‘together time’ as a family and to catch up on how they’d been doing at school.

When they got to have phones and laptops, the rule was to leave them on the dining table before going off to bed at 10 pm during school days. And there was absolutely no smacking.

Trust between myself and my stepchildren grew so that they were not afraid to talk when things went wrong. Young people do that when they know their parents care. I’m a great believer in allowing children to make mistakes as long as they don’t cause injuries to themselves, other people and their property or result in breaking the law because that’s how they will learn.

Most importantly, talking to our children the way we talk to other adults, congratulating and praising them when they have done well, even thanking them for preparing the evening meal is one way of showing them that you care. Not wait until they make mistakes or when things go belly-up, when you start yelling at them because that is not talking.

Call Sister Maria Mulipola (SMSM) and us oldies ‘antique’ but that was how we were brought up. And Samoa was virtually a crimeless society with only one magistrate and a police force that you can fit into one bus with room to spare.