I am now entering an
interesting time in my Peace Corps Service. Though I have long since passed the
one-year mark – 15 months next week – things are finally starting to repeat
themselves. Last year, I spent my first two months in training living with a
home stay family, and did not arrive in Vava’u until mid-November. When I
arrived here last year, unsure of what I was doing and slightly overwhelmed,
the class 6 exam was long over and an incredibly relaxed atmosphere had
enveloped the school. School was finished by lunchtime. The teachers and I sat
around getting to know each other, while the kids played cards and patiently
passed the time until they had to practice their cultural dance at the end of
the day. There was a definite pattern. It was unstressfully chaotic with kids
flying left and right and teachers not caring less, but it was also my
indoctrination, my welcome if you will, into my future life as a primary school
teacher in Tonga.
One year later, I am right back
where I started. The class 6 exam is over. While school has been much more
structured than last year, and the kids do not practice their cultural dance
nearly as much as we are doing the same dance as the year before, the
similarities remain blatant. This sense of déjà vu was particularly strong last
week during our regional Tongan Culture day. Last Wednesday, the four schools
of the East Region came together to show off the dances they have been
practicing for months in front of the Ministry of Education officials, the
teachers, and many of the parents.
The Tongan Culture Day last
year was the first significant Tongan event I had ever participated in. Helping
my kids prepare for their dance last year, I inevitably stuck out as the only non-Tongan
in a sea of Tongans. My Tongan was much weaker then and I was still so new that
I couldn’t yet tell who was from my village and who wasn’t – an extremely
important distinction in a country where knowing where someone lives matter
more than knowing their last names. While daunting might be too strong of a
description, I was definitely alone at the event in a very literal way.
This year could not be more
different. I, after countless regional events, know all of the parents from
each of the villages and most of the kids as well. My Tongan has gotten to the
point where I no longer embarrass myself. And, this time I wasn’t alone. A
newly arrived volunteer now works at one of the schools in my region, making me
stick out slightly less, and provide someone to speak English with occasionally
and for me to pass on the little advice and understanding I had to offer.
Well, now that’s enough about
me. Back to the kids! Back to Tongan Culture Day!
The school was decorated for
the event. Flowers were everywhere. Leaves were plucked to wrap around the
pillars supporting the school. The children were at their most adorable,
wearing traditional Tongan clothes over their school uniforms. The parents’
spread mats everywhere they could find shade – under a tree, behind a water
tank, next to a bus, and in front of the school. The kids were ready to
perform.
The scene was set. For the next
hour four schools, including my own performed their dances. While not as varied
as last year’s, when one school dressed their boys in lime green wigs and
women’s clothes, the students performed very well. They danced gracefully as
the girls performed the ta’ulunga and
the boys grappled with fake wooden spears. The teachers and the parents stood
behind the dancers, singing the back up music and banging on their “drums.” And
of course, adults walked around stuffing small dollar bills into the students’
clothes as a gesture of support and praise for the performance.
As my words cannot accurately
portray the dancing or bring to life the actions of the precocious children, I
have posted photos below. As always, thank you for reading and I hope everyone
had a Happy Thanksgiving!
GPS Koloa
Placing money in the shirts of the performers
My students after they finished their dance
GPS H'alaufuli