This village scene conjures up the classical stereotype of a tropical paradise. A series of eight or 10 panels are fastened together on a string of sennit, and at night or in rainy weather these are let down to keep out cold air or rain. Sometimes they're let down, too, to block the sunlight. The direct rays of the sun are uncomfortably hot in this latitude, only about five degrees from the equator. If you think this is paradise, ponder the idea that almost all the time in a Samoan village everyone sees what everyone else is doing.
Neighbors keep a perpetual eye on each other.
The lack of privacy makes others witness to arguments, fights, disagreements, and any number of other matters Europeans keep hidden from public view in their many-roomed domiciles. Human beings are incredibly malleable, a fact that Margaret Mead long ago pointed out. If you're used to living in close quarters with many other people, and have almost never been alone, then being alone makes you uncomfortable. If, on the other hand, you are used to being alone, as most Americans or Europeans are, then the constant presence of others can be very unpleasant. One result of living in a culture affording little or no privacy is that control over behavior is exercised to an enormous degree by public exposure and public shaming rather than by internalized norms.