Me, the Labourer

By Eti Sa’Aga

Me, the labourer, sweat in the sun to pave the road for the richman to ride on in comfort.

My friend is the wind is cool on my body, and the sun is warm my soul from the stares and frowns of the people who pass me by.

They don’t like me but they don’t say it because they need me to do their dirty work.

I does my work hard and think of me.

Is good to have me think of me for there’s no one to think of me but me.

My wife and kids think I’m very good worker But I get very little money.

The road is finished and pretty speeches are said.

The richman rides ahead, satisfied More cars go by and race on into the evening.

But silently on the roadside I stand.

No one sees me.

No one waves.

No one remembers me for the road I made.

I walk back to the warmth of my wife and family.

When is it to be my day?

Eti Sa'aga, of Western Samoa. A construc tion worker, he writes from the point of view of the Islands' working man.