Mata’ali’i: When the Ancestors Return
Across the Pacific, we look to the night sky and see more than stars.
In Aotearoa they are known as Matariki. In Hawai’i, Makali’i. In Samoa, Matali’i.
The rising of this sacred cluster marks the beginning of a new season. A time to gather, to remember those who came before us, to give thanks for the harvest, and to prepare for what lies ahead. For generations, our Pacific ancestors read the stars as a calendar, a compass and a reminder that we are never separate from the land, the ocean or each other.
At Living Koko, Mata’ali’i is deeply personal.
It is a time when I think of my grandfather, Laulu Sesole John Stanley, and the stories he carried. His chiefly title, his wisdom, and the generations before him remind me that we are only temporary custodians of something much greater than ourselves.
Our family’s history with cacao stretches back more than 200 years, across Samoa and Togo. For generations, our family has grown, nurtured and been connected to cacao across continents, carrying with us not only the knowledge of cultivation, but the understanding that cacao is a gift meant to bring people together. Every harvest reminds us that we are part of a story much larger than ourselves – one rooted in ancestry, stewardship and the enduring connection between people, land and spirit.
Laulu Asiata John Sesole Stanley (Grandpa) and Fofogali’i Lilly Grey-Stanley (Grandma)
Some of my favourite memories are the stories my uncle, Sale (Joe Stanley), would share with Mum and me. He would laugh as he told us that one of his jobs on the plantation was to delegate the work of vele le vau—clearing the weeds and tending the cacao trees. Then, with a cheeky smile and a sideways glance that always let us know a good story was coming, he’d confess that he gave everyone else the biggest sections of the plantation to weed while he kept the smallest patch for himself. That way, he’d finish first and disappear, off to ga’a – off on his own adventures.
We would all laugh, but beneath the humour was a reminder of life on the plantation. Every family member had a role. Every tree was cared for by hand. The work was shared, the stories were shared, and those moments – of hard work, laughter and family – became just as much a part of our cacao heritage as the harvest itself.
Ulugia Sale (Charles) Joseph Stanley
In 2023, I was deeply honoured to receive my chiefly title, Lolopō. I accepted it with humility, knowing it was not simply an honour but a responsibility—one that I will spend a lifetime growing into. It strengthened my commitment to serve not only my own family, but every family our cacao connects with: the farmers who nurture it, the hands that craft it, and the communities who gather around a shared cup. Like Matali’i itself, it reminds me that we are part of something much greater than ourselves, and that our role is to care for what has been entrusted to us so future generations may flourish.
When we prepare cacao, we are continuing a tradition of gathering people together. Around the Pacific, food and ceremony have always gone hand in hand. We share stories, remember our ancestors, strengthen relationships and give thanks for another season. Cacao has become our vessel for those same moments of connection.
Matali’i also reminds us to pause.
To reflect on the year that has passed.
To honour those who are no longer with us.
To celebrate the people walking beside us today.
And to plant seeds—both in the soil and in our hearts—for the future generations who will one day tell our stories.
As the stars rise once again, we offer our deepest gratitude to our family, our farmers, our customers and our wider Living Koko community. Thank you for walking this journey with us and for helping keep these traditions alive.
May the season of Mataali’i bring you rest, renewal and the courage to begin again.
Ia manuia le vaitau o Mataali’i
Lolopō Cyprian Fruean-Posesione (Cousin), Lucia Henrietta Phoebe Preuss (mum) Lolopō Phoebe Preuss (me)










