For more than 80 years, Faleolo International Airport has been a source of national pride for Samoa. Generations of Samoans have embraced it as their own—a gateway to the world that reflects their culture, identity, and collective progress.

Since its inception, the airport has belonged to the Samoan people, symbolising unity and shared ownership. It has also welcomed some of the world’s most prominent figures, including Pope Paul VI and more recently, King Charles III. These dignitaries, traveling on their own aircraft, likely did not need to undergo security screening—an acknowledgment of their global stature.

But this shared sense of pride and ownership took a hit last Thursday when the Minister of Works, Transport, and Infrastructure, Olo Fiti Vaai, disrupted the narrative during an interview with the government media team. Breaking from the script, he declared, “That’s my airport,” adding, “It’s under my rules, who can land at my airport at Faleolo.”

While some may argue that Olo’s comments reflect his responsibilities as the minister in charge, they struck many as a rare moment of candor. His remarks revealed an unvarnished glimpse into the mindset of a politician wielding significant power.

In a single statement, Olo traded the collective pride of a nation for a starring role in his own aviation drama.

The real issue, however, was not Olo’s claim over the airport. What’s more remarkable is the distraction his interview created.

Originally meant to address an alleged breach of security involving the Speaker and the Minister of Justice, the interview instead diverted attention elsewhere.

Olo avoided directly confirming whether the Speaker and Minister underwent security screening before boarding Air New Zealand flight NZ933 on Nov. 28.

Instead, he pointed to Cabinet directives, claiming that policies exempt high- ranking officials, such as the Speaker and Ministers, from security screening.

He further demanded an apology from Air New Zealand for refusing passengers using the VIP terminal and for its treatment of the Speaker and Minister.

Yet, Olo’s comments seem to implicitly acknowledge that the Speaker and Minister did bypass security screening—a breach of protocol.

Furthermore, the Cabinet directive he cited applies only to Samoa government- owned aircraft with prefix registrations 5W, a critical detail Olo conveniently omitted.

Air New Zealand, as an operator, has its own Operator Security Programme, which prioritises the safety of its aircraft and passengers. The airline is well within its rights to refuse passengers it deems a potential risk, regardless of their VIP status.

If Olo is upset about having to cart his trolley from the new $11 million VIP terminal back to the main terminal for security screening
like everyone else—and aspires to be treated like the Pope or the King—it might be time for a broader discussion about VIP treatment.

But the facts remain clear: under current Air New Zealand policies, the Speaker and Ministers did not qualify for exemptions at the time of their departure.

If this reality doesn’t sit well with Olo, perhaps he should consider acquiring an aircraft called “My Plane,” where the Speaker, Minister, and anyone else he deems VIP can bypass security entirely.

Until then, while the airport might now be his, the plane and the rules are not.