It was raining so hard last night I actually got stuck in Moto’otua in the middle of Apia. It was just raining too hard to flag down a taxi, which is the only way for me to get home at night. It wasn’t so bad. There were a bunch of people at Taui’s house and we watched “Office Space” after which the storm abated.

It was close to midnight when a few of us ventured outside to grab a taxi. We tried to call but couldn’t get through to any of the taxi stands. Telephone service here is dicey at best and in the rain, it often fails.

I had to get home so there was nothing to do, but go outside in the drizzle and wait. There were so few taxis because no one wants to drive in Apia in a downpour. Taxis would cruise by every few minutes, but none would stop. They all had passengers. We must have waited half an hour for an empty cab. By that time I was sloppy wet and couldn’t wait to get inside and towel off.

After dropping off a passenger at Vaivase Tai, we headed up to the heights of Fagali’i. It was raining so hard I couldn’t see out the windshield. With all this precipitation, the river on the way to my house was over running it’s banks and the current at the ford was so strong this morning that the bus went around on the longer golf course road.

It had been raining hard all day, so the current was even stronger than before. I thought, certainly, the driver would take the safe route and go the long way around, but he didn’t know or didn’t care because he made the right turn up the normal way to Fagali’i.

When the headlights illuminated the river raging over the ford, I had this vision of the taxi flipping over into the river. I couldn’t believe he was going to risk it. I was sure that we would at least get stuck in the middle of the river and have to wade across with no way to get up to my house.

He drove slowly into the swirling, brown river. Turns out I was worrying for nothing. We got across with no problem. Not even a stutter.

I arrived at my front porch through shin deep puddles and I was just so relieved to be there that I could almost have kissed the ground. I put my key in the lock and turned it, but I the door didn’t open. I try again. Nothing. The key is turning, but the lock isn’t opening. Expect for the periodic flashes of lightening that are bursting in the sky from the east, I can’t see anything because it’s pitch black. I have a flashlight, but it’s in the house. I try again. Same thing. It can’t be the wrong key because I only have one key.

Two weeks ago I tried to get the one key that I have duplicated at one of the locksmith’s in town. I walk in and there’s this woman working there, and I ask if I can have this key made, but she doesn’t know anything. I can hear the locksmith working away somewhere in the back. He shouts out to me, does the key say ‘Janes’ on it? I look at the key and in plain text right, is printed ‘Janes’ in bold, block letters. I tell him yes and he says that he can’t make that key. It’s a Chinese key and they don’t have the blanks. In fact the blanks, to his knowledge don’t exist anywhere in Samoa. I ask him if there’s anywhere I can get the key made. He says, ya, he knows a guy in Hong Kong. Fucking smart ass motherfucker. So basically I can’t get the key remade anywhere.

I don’t know what to do. I want to break in, but I don’t think I can. I try the key on the backdoor. It doesn’t work, of course. There are other Peace Corps Volunteers in my neighborhood and in a pinch I can knock on their door, but it’s past midnight on a Monday. No one wants to have to deal with this. Plus I’m soaking wet, I just want to get inside my place, strip off my saturated clothes and towel off. I can also hear my kittens meowing through the door. They are probably freaking out. I keep trying the lock.

My next door neighbor and her boyfriend are both police officers. I figure if it comes down to it, I can wake them up and they will know what to do. They must be able to break into a house. But I don’t want to have to bother them. I don’t want to deal with this shit. I just want to get my wet ass into my warm house. The rain starts coming down harder. Flashes of lightening, raging in the sky, followed by deep blasts of rolling thunder.

I’m working the lock for about 20 minutes when a car pulls up. It’s the boyfriend. This is great. Now I won’t have to wake them up. He pulls into the carport behind our block of flats and he sits there with the engine running for something like half an hour. All this time I’m thinking, he’s going to come in, right? What the fuck is he waiting for? Maybe for the rain to subside. It doesn’t.

He finally gets out of the car and comes around to the porch where I’m standing. I’m thinking, I probably should have taken the time to ask this guy his name some time before. I know he knows my name. I never asked because I had been told that I was moving from the day I arrived here. That was six months ago.

When he passes me I say hi and let him know about my little predicament. He grunts something unintelligible and tries the key with the predictable result. He goes inside the house and comes out with a huge knife and a lighter. I’m holding the lighter under the lock as he tries to pry loose the bolt with a machete. With the light from the flickering flame of the lighter I can see that turning the key is not moving the bolt at all. I can also see that some paint has been stripped off the door jam and the metal housing for the bolt is slightly bent as though someone tried to break in. He’s getting nowhere with the machete.

He goes back in the house and comes out with Eunice and a butter knife. He jams the knife in the lock, but the bolt still won’t move. I can hear my cats going crazy inside the house. When I put my finger through the slats in the door, I get pricked by the nail of one of them. That’s right. My attack cats keeping the home safe. I whistle to them so they know it’s me.

Eunice gives the lock a few turns and goes to work with the butter knife, but the lock isn’t budging.

They give up with the butter knife and he announces that he’s going to the car to get a screw driver. He comes back with this massive flat head which he works backs and forth in the door jam for about five minutes until the door pops open. Finally.

I thank them both profusely, say goodnight, gather the cats and move my wet self inside. My place is a dump, but it’s warm and dry and it’s all mine.

In the morning, I got the Peace Corps on the phone and they sent up a locksmith to replace the lock. This new lock comes with 2 keys.