Pepe Faitau Book Company

Duseigneur and I met in 2020 during the height of the pandemic. Within 10 months, we fell in love, got married, and were expecting our first pepe.  While the world felt uncertain, we knew one thing for sure: we loved each other. We could figure out unplanned parenthood, build a life, and somehow make it through the pandemic as long as we were together.

Throughout my pregnancy, I found comfort in gathering books. Reading has always been a staple in my life growing up, so naturally I wanted to surround our pepe with the same comfort. I was excited to get books from my childhood, but I was more excited to find Samoan children’s books. These books would not only act as a bridge for our Pepe to learn about Sāmoa, but also allow me to support Duseigneur in sharing his heritage with our child. I set out to find them online, entering “Samoan language baby books” into the search bar and waited. Nothing. “Samoan language children’s books.” Still nothing. “Samoan books.” A dictionary, a novel, a church pamphlet.

At the time, I had been teaching myself Gagana Sāmoa with a textbook I had managed to find during quarantine, but even that had proven difficult to track down. I was learning the basics: the alphabet, simple vocabulary, numbers, but not in a way that would translate for a child. When I asked Duseigneur what he had growing up, he told me the only thing he could remember was Le Pī Sāmoa, the Samoan alphabet, printed on a poster at church.

In that moment, it felt like more than my search had failed. Although the internet didn’t give me books to browse it did offer me another idea: I could make a book. I had done it before with poetry. Why couldn’t I do it again with a Samoan alphabet book? The idea was daunting, but also beautiful. However, instead of feeling joyful creativity blooming, I felt embarrassed. Who was I, as a white woman, to create a book in another language? I sat with that feeling, still yearning for a Samoan baby book, and decided not to tell Deuseigneur.

On our son’s first birthday, we found out that we were expecting our second child. The desire to not only have a Samoan book for my children, but to be part of creating it, came back. Something I’ve learned about myself over time is that I am a big ideas person and given the resources, would likely be a serial entrepreneur. After careful deliberation, I decided to share the idea of the book with Duseigneur. He was immediately supportive, ready to be a rock of steadiness within the storm of ideas I had. We talked about the internal struggle I was having, and he offered a steady, gentle reassurance while allowing me time to make a decision.

As I was processing how the idea of making Samoan books would change not only our children’s lives, but potentially the lives of other Samoan children, I had the dream start pulling at me again. I had been following a Tongan baby book account called My Little Tongan for a while, quietly following their work. One night, I gave in and reached out. I shared my concerns that these books did not feel like mine to make. Mokiana responded with something simple: “Just do it. You’ll be a great mama to do it for your kids and for posterity.”

That same night, we created O Le Pepe Faitau Book Company, The Reading Baby Book Company.

Mokiana became a huge support, someone I could learn from and lean on. I asked so many questions, and then spent weeks researching how to self-publish, how to build a business, what platforms to use, how to find an illustrator, and more. We knew that we wanted everything possible to be connected to Sāmoa, including the art and artists. When we finally put out a call for Samoan artists then everything shifted. Within the first week, we found our first illustrator, Dalcetta Palepale. After that, things moved quickly: ideas became real mock-ups, and mock-ups became books we could hold in our hands. It was life changing.

When we released our third book, we had a moment that humbled us deeply. We were informed that some of our translations were incorrect. Reading the message stole the air from my lungs. I froze in shame and disbelief. Some were slang, not proper translations; some had missing diacritic markers; and some were just … wrong. By that point, we had already printed, shipped, and paid for over 500 books. This stopped us in our tracks. Knowing that these books held incorrect information meant that we couldn’t sell them, and we couldn’t reprint them without offsetting the cost in some way. Instead of being met with judgement, we were met with an empathetic community. One of the shops carrying our books, who noticed the mistakes first, suggested we create stickers to place over the incorrect words. They would still sell them that way. It was not perfect, but it worked. Placing each sticker was slow and tedious, and it forced us to face our mistake fully. We put out a statement, took responsibility, and committed to doing better.

That moment changed how we worked. We began searching for a language editor who could walk alongside us and help ensure our translations were accurate. That is when we found Lilian Arp, who has been an incredible partner and advocate for Gagana Sāmoa. We also created a language policy so our community could understand how we approach and verify translations because from the beginning we wanted to be transparent about everything we do.

At the time, I felt a lot of shame. I moved too quickly. I put pressure on my husband to provide translations without giving the process the care it deserved. I didn’t reach out wide enough for support. But that season showed us something we did not expect. The community that had formed around our books was real. People showed up for us. We received hundreds of messages offering support. People still bought the books, stickers and all. They encouraged us to keep going.

We have had moments when people did not understand our marriage or our work, and that is something we have had to accept. We know our intentions. We know our hearts. And we know that over 4,000 people have now held one of our Gagana Sāmoa books in their hands, many for the first time. That has made every challenge worth it.

When we started Pepe Faitau, we only wanted one book for our home. What began as something small for our own aiga grew into something much bigger: a community of families, caregivers, and educators who all want their tamaiti to hear, speak, and love Gagana Sāmoa from the very beginning.

As our family has grown, so has the work. With that growth, we have had to learn how to slow down, to honor our capacity, and to shape the business in a sustainable way. We are now expecting our third pepe this November, and we recently took a pause to rest, reflect, and think about how to move forward in a more sustainable way.

Right now, we offer all our tusi through wholesale, working with schools, retailers, and community organizations to make the books accessible to as many people as possible. Those orders require a minimum of 100 books, which we know is not possible or sustainable for everyone. We have found a print on demand board book printer, but those prices are so much higher than we would like. With these challenges, we are working to figure out what the next version of this work looks like and how to make our books accessible for everyone who wants to buy or share them.

After over three and a half years and with over 4,000 books created it feels like, when and if we are ready to start again, we will be starting from scratch. But we are okay with that.

If I could offer anything to someone who is dreaming of creating, whether it is a book, a poem, or something else entirely, it would be this: just start. Start before you feel ready. Start before you fully understand what you are doing. Starting opens doors you cannot yet see.

Build your community. Stay honest, stay humble, and stay open to feedback. Mistakes will happen. What matters is how you respond to them. Most importantly, make sure you have a strong support system, people who will hold you up when things feel heavy.

I’m not sure what the future holds for Pepe Faitau Books, but I am deeply grateful for what my husband and I have created together. This work has brought us closer, stretched us, and taught us so much. Every day, we feel proud knowing these books have found their way into homes around the world.