The Samoan Pyramid

by Maya Lynch

  I felt a powerful affinity for the young Stuart Scott. Fifty years on I was retracing his footsteps. I wondered what it was that he had hoped to find here and if he too had experienced a similar resistance to his quest.

  The descriptions left behind by Stair and Sterndale about ‘buildings of strange form, composed of massive stonework’ were cryptic to say the least but they had been enough to draw me to the island and they obviously had same magnetic effect on Scott.

  Tired and apprehensive, Stuart Scott had pushed deep into the jungle alone. I had it easy by comparison. Baba, taking the lead, had laid waste to the thick jungle with his machete, while Scott would have had to cut his own path through the jungle, the tangled vines grasping at his feet every step of the way until he finally emerged high up on the southern slopes of the volcano.

  He too would have noticed the ground change beneath his feet at this point. He would have realised, as I did, that he was standing on a paved terrace. Shaped stones arranged to form a fitted floor, all locked together like a jigsaw. Craftsmanship. Wealth. Civilisation. Would he have felt as I did? Awestruck? Overjoyed? To hike through the jungle and suddenly find evidence of human endeavours that mainstream history has forgotten, to know that people laid these stones to lead somewhere. Somewhere you've been looking for but weren't sure you'd ever find.

  We’d stopped. I looked up at Baba, hoping that he was about to suggest a rest. Then he tugged at the thick green vines that hung down from the jungle canopy, sweeping them aside with a dramatic flourish like he was pulling back the heavy drapes of a theatre stage. And there it was, filling my field of vision, revealed in all its hair-raising splendour. Pulemelei, the forgotten Samoan pyramid. Heart of a lost city.

  Pulemelei cast everything in its shadow. a towering wall of basalt rising suddenly out the jungle. An austere beauty that seemed to have willed itself out of the mountainside, pushing nature aside. Towering above me, to the height of a five story building, the pyramid dominated the site and blocked out the sky. Thick green jungle pressed hard up against the base of the pyramid.

  My senses were on overdrive. Crushed between the jungle and the eastern wall of the pyramid, as we were, it was impossible to get any sense of scale or perspective. The whole effect was overwhelming. A boundless, infinite, immeasurable masterpiece.

  Standing at the base of the main pyramid and gazing upwards, I was eager to reach the flat peak and see the view.

  ‘I’m going up,’ I said to Baba, ‘You coming?’

  Baba was bent double trying to catch his breath. He raised his hand silently to wave me on, signalling that he’d catch up. Baba was finally exhausted, while I had just found my second wind. Buzzing, my skin tingling, I pushed through a tiny opening in the mess of trees that crushed up against the side of the pyramid. I knew that there was supposed to be a stairway built somewhere into the eastern side of the pyramid that would lead me up to the flat top.

  In Stuart Scott’s notes he had recorded that either by coincidence or by design, the stairways that were cut into the eastern and western sides of the pyramid are aligned to the cardinal directions, the rising and setting sun on the equinox. Surely this was the work of a culture who had mastered astronomy. Squashed in between tall palm trees on one side and the towering wall of the pyramid on the other, I inched my way along the side of Pulemelei. Baba appeared at my side and gestured with curt a nod of his head that the stairway was a little further along the wall that stretched out in front of us.

  ‘A mile?’ I asked grinning.

  ‘Yes. About a mile,’ he laughed.

  14

  The Raw Numbers

  It’s worth taking a look at the raw numbers to get a sense of just how massive a project this must have been for whoever built this ancient pyramid. The site is essentially a massive step pyramid. Sixty five meters wide and sixty meters long and aligned to the cardinal directions. The entire structure is built from huge blocks of black volcanic basalt stone laid roughly one on top of the next, piled to about the height of a five storey building.

  A second, smaller pyramid, fifty meters to the north, connects to the main pyramid via a raised stone walkway that runs along the north/ south axis. And surrounding both pyramids is an engineered basalt floor, each slab cut with precision to fit its neighbour in an intricate interlocking pattern.

  Two step pyramids, connected by a raised walkway and surrounded by a fitted basalt floor. Around this, streets, boulevards, causeways stretch out into the jungle in every direction. The whole complex covers an area of almost 32 square kilometres. And all of this was built in the jungle, up a mountain, on the edge of a volcano. Looking just at the main pyramid structure alone we get these measurements;

  Width? 214 feet (65 meters)

  Length? 197 feet (60 meters)

  Height? 40 feet (12 meters)

  Total volume of Basalt? 150,920 cubic feet (46,000 cubic meters)

  Total Weight? 150,000 metric tonnes.

  To put that last figure into perspective, 150,000 tonnes is the equivalent weight of fifty World War II battle ships. It is massive. What would it cost to build just the main pyramid at Pulemelei today? If we sourced the cheapest available basalt on the world market, the raw materials alone would cost upwards of $1.5 Million US dollars. And that’s just for the boulders, and just enough to build the main pyramid.

  How long might it take us to build Pulemelei today? We could estimate that a truck loaded with basalt rocks, delivering one full load every thirty minutes, working non-stop for eight hours each day, five days a week, would take more than ten weeks just to deliver enough rocks to build the main pyramid alone, never mind the second pyramid or the 32 square kilometres of the surrounding complex. Even with modern technology the logistics surrounding a project of this scale, before building even got underway, would be huge.

  But the people who built Pulemelei didn’t have modern technology, they didn’t have trucks, they didn’t have cranes. They would have had to carry each and every block to the site by hand. This was a massive undertaking. It was clear to me that we weren’t just looking at a simple pile of rocks. Buildings like this don’t just happen, they have to be forced into existence by an immense will and backbreaking labour. This required imagination, design, invention, it required planning, project management, and a huge workforce. Which of course would necessitate a complex support network. Who gathered food for the pyramid builders? Who cooked for them? Who cared for them when they were sick?

  Whoever built Pulemelei, they were obviously an expertly organised and cohesive society.

  15

  To the Top

  Baba and I clambered up the stairway on the east side, racing to the top. As soon as we reached the summit a blast of cold wind hit us, the first fresh air I had breathed in hours. The pyramid brought us higher than the jungle canopy, the view from the top was astounding; a commanding view over the island and out across the Pacific looking South.

  ‘Wow!’ I shouted. ‘Wow! Wow!’ We had made it, we had made it and it was glorious! I jumped in the air again and again, completely ecstatic. I was actually at the summit of Pulemelei! I could scarcely believe it. Peering down from the top of the pyramid I could see that Pulemelei was hemmed in tight by the jungle on all sides. A thick blanket of vines smothered the jungle canopy below us. ‘Mile a minute’ the archaeologists called this stuff. A frenzied network of creepers that clung to every surface and wound tight around every tree in a more or less continuous green cloak that stretched out across the island in front of us and all the way down to the coast.

  Looking to the south from the top of the pyramid, over the jungle, I could envision the ancient city that stretched all the way to the ocean, a sprawling metropolis bustling with the daily activity of thousands of people. Why did they build here? I wondered. The strategic benefits of the position were obvious. Any invading army would have had to battle their way through the city below and up a mountain before they got here. And the site provides an almost completely unimpeded p
anorama, with only the volcano behind us, to the North West, blocking a section of the great view. A well-chosen location militarily, yes, but it occurred to me that this might also be a great place to build a stellar observatory. Standing atop the pyramid felt almost like taking a step into the vast sky above. Looking up, I could only imagine the incredible view of the night-sky ancient astronomers would have had from here. In fact, my original plan had been to to stay overnight on the pyramid, but time was short and I was due to be leave Samoa entirely in the morning. Besides, without water, staying here overnight would be impossible.

  I wondered why the builders of this place, whomever they were, had even summoned the will to undertake the huge task of building this pyramid. It’s an incredible achievement, by any standard. It’s sixty meters long by sixty five meters wide and the height of a five story building, made entirely from basalt stones, here on the top of a volcano that was still active to within living memory. Whoever built Pulemelei, really, really wanted there to be a pyramid here.

  As I began to explore the site, I was struck by the obvious degree of astronomical knowledge evident at Pulemelei. The pyramid is aligned to the cardinal directions; North, South, East, West. That simply doesn’t happen by accident. There are two ways that this could have logically happened. One is that there was a culture that emerged independently on Savai’i. A culture that developed an understanding of astronomy and of monumental architecture over a long period of time, which would imply that other similar structures should be present on the island, as the society slowly amassed its astronomical knowledge and became more adept at building megalithic structures. But that’s not the case14, as Roger Green pointed out in his book Archaeology in Samoa I when he said that Pulemelei ‘remains unique to this date.’15

  The other logical possibility is that that there was a flow of people and information through the island that stretched at least to the next nearest site of similar megalithic structures. Thinking about these factors gives us hints as to the significance of Pulemelei, the importance it would have had to the civilisation that built it. This was not just a new building being erected on Savai’i. At the time, this was a whole new type of building. Nothing like Pulemelei had ever been built before in the history of Polynesia. Pulemelei would symbolise more than just simple blocks of stone. In building the massive monument, the pyramid builders were creating something new. Something exciting, something dramatic. It’s not hard to imagine the buzz of anticipation as the blocks were moved to the site and this new type of building, a huge step pyramid and the surrounding complex began to take shape. It would have marked the birth of a new era.

  Within days of his arrival at Pulemelei in 1965, Stuart Scott had hired a team of local men and together they set about clearing the pyramid and the immediate surrounding complex. It took twenty-two men working full time for twenty days just to clear the vegetation from the site. When they had finished the backbreaking work, clearing centuries of jungle, what they had uncovered was utterly breathtaking. Pulemelei, the ancient pyramid, revealed for the first time in hundreds, if not thousands of years.

  Scott had spent the rest of his summer exploring the pyramid site and mapping the surrounding complex. He asked anyone that would listen if they knew anything about the history or mythology of the pyramid, but no one did. In his report back to Roger Green he wrote that Pulemelei was; ‘remarkable for its imposing size and obvious former importance.’ He added that perhaps even more curious was the fact that there was ‘no surviving knowledge or local traditions about the mound itself or the importance of the area during its history.’16

  My own trip had served to prove one thing to me. Nothing much had changed. My experience with local people was very similar to Stuart Scott’s. No one knew who was responsible for this enormous, magnificent pyramid. And nobody knew what had gone on here. Actually, Baba was the one possible exception on that score. I did hear one story from him. He told me that the Pyramid had been used in the 17th century by a local chief called Lilomaiava Nailevaiiliili. He was a bit of a tyrant by all accounts; a head hunter who enjoyed human sacrifice. Baba told me that the local villagers believed that Pulemelei was Chief Nailevaiiliili’s final resting place.

  I knew that there was supposed to be a smaller second pyramid fifty meters to the North but I could see no trace of it. The north mound had been entirely swallowed up by the jungle. Beyond the northern pyramid, Stuart Scott had discovered a long cobbled road that snaked its way far into the jungle, right up the side of the volcano, all the way to the crater's edge. Baba and I searched long and hard for this road, but the jungle here hadn’t been cleared in decades and we could find no sign of it.

  To the east, I could just make out the shape of the large paved causeway as it traced its way down the mountainside until it disappeared into a snarl of trees. Nature was busy reclaiming the ancient site. Soon enough the entire complex would be lost to the jungle. As it was, only the main platform was still clear, and even then only partially. The west and north sides were already choked in thick undergrowth. Weeds, bushes and trees taller than me pushed their way skywards between the rocks. And in the south east corner, a huge banyan tree had made itself at home, giving shade to the main platform. The natural destruction of the site was far beyond anything that I had imagined I might find. I hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Pulemelei had been abandoned and left to fend for itself.

  16

  High Place of the Chief

  As we walked about the top platform of Pulemelei, looking out at the stunning views of the island, Baba explained to me the meaning of the name Pulememelei. ‘Archaeologists, they translate the name as high place of the chief,’ he said. ‘But that’s too lazy. Pulemelei is more beautiful than that.’ He knelt down to pick up a small pebble from the floor of the pyramid platform and worked it through his fingers as he spoke. ‘The Pu is a very special type of conch shell. We play this shell at ceremonies, we use it to call all the people and to awaken our ancestors to the arena,’ he tossed the little pebble away and continued.‘The sound from the conch shell is powerful, it is a feeling, a real feeling in your body as much as a sound.’

  This is true. I have experienced the sound of the conch shell being played, felt the sound vibrating through the jungle. You feel the sound resonate through you, it feels almost electric, it is truly affecting.

  ‘So, “Pu”. It’s a special sound, a vibration, I think this is what it means.’ Baba continued. ‘In Samoa the conch shell is sacred, a symbol of the gods. It is very special. And “lemelei”- it means power, or powerful. But not a simple power, like the power of a chief, no.’ Baba had become animated in a way I hadn’t seen before. ‘“Lemelei” is like the power of the universe,’ he said, circling his arms in the air. ‘It is strong beyond belief, stronger than any power wielded by man.’ He slapped himself on the chest to emphasise the word ‘man’.

  ‘Wow.’ I was impressed by his sudden outburst of passion.

  ‘So, Pulemelei means the sound of the universe. No,’ he corrected himself, ‘The power of the Universe, no no.’ Baba corrected himself again, ‘It is the loud vibration of the universal power.’ Baba shook his head. ‘Ahh. It doesn’t make sense in English,’ he said. ‘But in Samoan, it makes sense.’ He laughed.

  ‘But, the high place of the chief?’ he said incredulously. ‘The archaeologists are brutes.’

  And with that Baba made his way over to the shade of the banyan tree. I was beginning to see that Baba held the archaeologists in about as high regard as I held the early European researchers.

  17

  The Heyerdahl Institute

  In 2002 the Swedish archaeologist Helene Martinsson-Wallin launched a new survey at Pulemelei. For the first time in decades people thronged over the site once more. This couldn't have been more different than earlier expeditions. Armed with funding from the Thor Heyerdahl Institute the archaeologists spared no expense. They had money, they had the full backing of the Samoan government, they had a pl
an and a notable Swedish archaeologist as their leader.

  In the 1960s Stuart Scott had cut his path to Pulemelei through the jungle on foot, carrying his canvas tent on his back and armed with only a trowel, a notebook and a pencil. In 2002 this new group of archaeologists charged through the jungle in 4x4 jeeps, bringing the latest technology. They had Computers, G.P.S. and remote sensing equipment. They also brought numbers- dozens of archaeologists. Previous expeditions had consisted of only two or three. This was the arrival of modern archeology at Pulemelei.

  The Samoan government arranged a great festival for the archaeologists. Government and church leaders from all over the Pacific were in attendance. This was a big deal. The archaeologists arrived in their 4x4s to great fanfare. In a midnight ceremony the 'tapu' curse was temporarily lifted from the site and the leader of the archaeologists, Helene Martinson-Wallin, set out clear goals for the excavation:

  1: Using carbon dating, she would determine a date for the site's construction.

  2: Her team would uncover how the pyramid was constructed.

  3: They would provide training for Samoan students.

  The work began, as it had with Scott, by clearing the the thick growth of trees and scrub from the site. When the archaeologists mapped the site they found it 'essentially unaltered17' since Stuart Scott's investigation, apart from one stark difference.