The Little Things

Some of the most surprising aspects of my life in Tonga are the little things that I never expected to deal with. There are certain things that I took for granted in the U.S., things that I believe all of us accept as logical, obvious, and do not even think about during the course of our daily lives. It is these things, the small minutia, which make up the routine or grind in my life (as they do in everyone’s life in every country in the world), that take up most of my time.

Some of these things I expected to experience when I joined the Peace Corps. I knew that I would probably have to wash my laundry in a bucket and dry it on a line outside. I do and it is not a big deal.

I knew that I would have to learn how to cook in order to feed myself. I have no idea what I am doing in the kitchen, but somehow it all works out and I probably won’t starve.

I thought that I would not have access to running water and would have to bathe in a stream or with a bucket. That has not been the case, however, as there is plenty of water in the rain heavy, South Pacific Tonga, and though I showered with a bucket during home stay, I have a shower in my house now.

Other things I never even though about. Take trash disposal for example. In America, I completely took trash for granted. When I had garbage, I placed the garbage in a trashcan. When my trashcan got full, I emptied the garbage into a dumpster or left it outside for the garbage man to pick up. For those of you who are environmentally conscious and recycle, you probably place your recyclables in the correct buckets and place them outside, which similarly gets picked up by unseen men and women. Trash disposal in America follows a very logical and consistent process, and because of that, I never truly considered life without such a system.

I, and I would think that I am not alone in this, never really thought about this process. The entire time I went through the Peace Corps application process I never thought to ask about trash disposal. Internet, yes. Running water, yes. Assignments, yes. Waste management, no.

I knew waste management was a problem in many countries, as is evident in those horrible photos of trash clogging up rivers and destroying ecosystems, but for some reason I never though that it would affect me.

As you may have guessed, however, it does. There is no waste management system in Tonga. There is recycling in Tongatapu and it might exist in Vava’u, but it is not feasible in the village where I live. Most Tongans, in all the islands, burn their garbage.

A few days ago, though I consider myself to be environmentally friendly and do not like the idea of burning my trash, burned all of the trash I had accumulated these past two weeks in my backyard. There is a pit in my yard, dug for this purpose, and I burned the trash as you can see in the photo below. I am sorry to report this, but I feel it is these kinds of little things, the experiences that I never expected, that make up some of the most interesting aspects and details of my life in Tonga and I feel compelled to share.

In other, less depressing and ecologically distressing news, I find two things about my life interesting.

First, Tonga is very small. While the territory of Tonga, with islands spread over 700,000 sq kilometers of ocean, is roughly the size of Texas, the actual land mass of Tonga, when all the islands are added up, is the only about the size of Dallas according to my guide book. I have also heard the size of Tonga’s land mass compared to the size of Memphis.

This means that nothing is far. One third of the land resides on the main island of Tongatapu, and since I live in Vava’u I live on an island that is much smaller then several U.S. cites. I am therefore very close to Neiafu, where I can go to buy vegetables, eat a good meal, and use the Internet.  My village in all probability is only a few miles from Neiafu, and yet this distance is much greater than it seems.

In Vava’u there is no public transportation. There is no bus to take me to town. The roads are in bad condition, worn away and with many potholes, so that the cars can only travel 20 km/hr in many places. When you call for a cab in Vava’u you do not call a company, you call an individual person. I think there are ten “cabs” in Vava’u at this time.

I biked to town in my gearless bike in hilly Vava’u last week and it only took me about 30 minutes. I was drenched in sweat but 30 minutes is pretty reasonable, and proves how small the island really is. Thus, to finally get to my point, even though I feel very far away from everything, and even though I am, in terms of mileage, ridiculous close to Neifau and “civilization,” i.e. Internet, I am actually kind of far.

In America 5 miles is nothing. If I were a volunteer in any country in the world 5 miles would seem like nothing, when I expected to be days from such amenities. Yet, in Vava’u, I am incredibly close, but strangely far from town. It is an interesting phenomenon that I can only solve in three ways – hitchhiking, biking, and walking – and shows how easily the concepts of time and space are alterable just in personal lives.

Secondly, I have strangely experienced three Thanksgiving dinners in Tonga. Since everyone is terrified that we won’t get to have a Thanksgiving dinner in Tonga, we have had many of them. My first was two weeks ago when the Country Director (the highest ranking Peace Corps staff in country) of Tonga, who is retiring in a month, cooked us an incredible meal with all the Thanksgiving staples – turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing – and a delicious pasta with pesto sauce. We even went around the table and said what we were thankful for.

My second Thanksgiving was during my swearing in ceremony when the hotel where we were having the ceremony decided to serve us turkey, potatoes, and stuffing as well. Last but not least, I enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving with all the volunteers in Vava’u and some other expats living in Vava’u yesterday. It was a great first third Thanksgiving dinner in Tonga.

That’s it for me today. As always thank you for reading, and happy Thanksgiving to everyone in America!

Burning my trash. Sad to do but if I didn't do it, another Tongan would just burn it for me.

My first attempt at laundry

View from the bush

Wandering in the bush

Some of the kids of G.P.S. Houma practicing their Tongan war dance