Sports Day

Last Friday was Sports Day, the day where every GPS – Government Primary School – conducts a series of track events with the other schools in their region. My school, part of the East Region, practiced all week to prepare for the events. School was taught in the mornings, and then every afternoon after lunch, we would race. Quickly, much to my delight I must admit, I became the Sports Czar for my school, leading all the efforts in warming up, practicing the events, teaching the proper technique, and recording the results so we would know who should run what event when Sports Day occurred.

This week was probably the most fun I have had in school to date. My regular classes went well and then I loved coaching the sports. The kids were incredibly excited to run and compete and they were hilarious to watch. They would fall left and right. The sack races, with over half the kids never making it, left everyone in tears. The hurdles – somehow we have adjustable hurdles that we use 5 times a year but not enough books or pencils for our students – with the kids continuously jumping around, running through, and tripping over them was equally amusing.

We practiced all the events. 800 meters. 400 meters. 200 and 100 meters. Relay races, sack races, and sprints for the little kids in Class 1 and 2. I taught the kids how to start with, “On your mark, Get set, Go!” and showed them how to properly pass the stick during the relay races. By Friday we were ready.

I hopped on the bus with all of my students and their families, many others also coming in cars, to GPS Ha’alaufuli. The school was packed. My school only has 40 students, but 2 of the other schools have as many as 180 kids so the odds were certainly stacked against us. All of the teachers, students, and parents were there. The lawn was freshly mowed and track lines were drawn into it. All of the kids were in their school colors. Yellow for us, and red, green, and blue for the remaining schools.

The day was a ton of work. It was unbelievably hot and I was running all around the place making sure my students were where they were supposed to be. It was so much fun though. I loved watching all of the events, especially when juggling for the girls is considered a field event in Tonga. Being a small school, my students did not win many events, but my class 5 boys cleaned up, and the Class 5 boys, one Class 4 girl, and two Class 6 boys did well enough to compete in the all GPS sports day in the capital next week.

Two particular events are worth further mentioning as well. The first is that Sports day is considered a food day, meaning that all of the parents bring tons of food for themselves, the kids, and the teachers. The food was everywhere. Root Crop, Fried Fish, Chicken, and Pig. I was absolutely bombarded by food. The moment my plate was even close to being finished, heaps of food was dumped into my lap. It was all tasty, and following my principle of eating in Tonga – when you actually like the food, eat a lot of it – I ate until I was fit to burst.

The second event is more of a phenomenon. This phenomenon is Tongan women. At every event, be it sports, dances, or whatever, the women, mostly the married mothers between then ages of 30 and 50 are by the far the best part. They are absolutely hysterical. Also, please remember that most of these women are quite large, easily weighing over 200 pounds. This context is important for the mental images I soon hope to impart.

At Sports Day the women would race the kids alongside the events. They would run out into the middle of the field and tackle each other. One woman ventured out in a bike, only to be run down by 3 other woman, completely blindsided, and taken to the ground. It was absolutely hilarious, and I tried my best to avoid being run down when I stood to close to the sidelines.

Unfortunately, these Tongan mothers had other plans for me. After lunch, before the finals of the events began, the schools held an impromptu concert to raise money. Basically they blasted music and called the mothers and teachers of each school to come up and dance. I had no intention of dancing in front of 500 Tongans so I tried to remain unseen, a difficult prospect as I was the only non-Tongan and stood out quite easily.

When my school was called, the MC on the microphone also shouted, “Ha’u Soni. Ha’u Pisi Koa. Come Soni. Come Peace Corps.” Before I could make any decision two of the mothers, grabbed my arms and half ran half carried me to the front. Stuck, I started dancing, and within 30 seconds I was immediately bombarded by money. Tongans, when they give money, stuff the bills into your clothes and stick them to your body. They do this because if the money falls off it traditionally means that the unmarried person is not a virgin. Feeling very much like a stripper, woman after woman put money down my shirt and in my pockets, supplying the school with plenty of money.

I ran to my principal, giving her the money and hoping that my job was done. However, she wanted more money and ushered me back into the fray. Shaking my head, I slowly walked back to the group of mothers’ eyeing me like a lion eyes an impala, silently licking their chomps. Within a few minutes the dancing got quite rough, with these 200 plus pound woman fighting over me and picking me up and shaking me. Then they decided to team up and I was grabbed, lifted, carried by 7 women like a rug, and they attempted to unbutton my shirt – not caring at all that it is actually illegal for a man to be shirtless in public in Tonga.

Freaking out, I had no idea what to do. The average age of the women was 40. They outweighed me each individually and collectively by several hundred pounds. How could I fight back?

Luckily, before they could unbutton more than one of my buttons, they dropped me. This dropping momentarily stunned the women into a silent lethargy and they helped me up. The moment I stood up, before they could act, I ran away as fast as I possibly could. Every single person at the school, maybe 500 people, was watching and laughing as hard as only Tongans can laugh. Turning bright red, I walked back to my principle, who was laughing like crazy, and told her I deserved at least a few days off for that.

Also, it is important to note. There is ZERO hyperbole or exaggeration in this story. If anything, I am not doing the event the honor it deserves and am understating it. It was crazy.

Even with this attack, the day was a great success and I had a lot of fun. Since then, I have returned with students from my school who won their events to practice with our region for the all GPS Sport Day in the capital next week. I am now the Sports Czar for the entire region, and I have to admit, I want to win.

I also wanted to update everyone with my plans. This may be my last post for several weeks. Since I will not receive a new charger until April when I see my parents, and the following week with Sports Day, Good Friday, and Easter when every store is closed, may make getting on the internet impossible. Further, I am leaving Tonga for two weeks to travel with my parents to Bali, Singapore, and Tokyo on April 3^rd, and when I return on the 13^th I have a week of Peace Corps training in Tongatapu. Thus, this will likely be my last post for a while.

I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and enjoy the photos below.

Hurdles. The kid in the yellow jersey is one of my Class 6 students.

400 meters. Notice the Moms running with the kids.

100 meter sprint. The kid in the yellow is also one of my students.

Juggling - a popular girls event

Tug of War - my school on the left dominating

Victory parade

Rain Rain Go Away

I have often mentioned that the weather in Tonga is unpredictable.  In case you forgot, it is. In Tonga, we have every natural disaster. Cyclones, check. Earthquakes (some of which have shaken my room), check. Tsunamis, a distinct possibility but thankfully no check yet. The South Pacific is practically ground zero for natural disasters.

The weather that has affected my life so much the past few weeks has not, however, been a natural disaster, but rather rain. A lot of rain. Never ending rain. For the last month with a few exceptions, notably my incredible weekend to an outer island, it has rained every day, and often quite hard.

The rain has little effects on my life both positive and negative. When it rains it is much cooler (it is currently the hot and rainy season in Tonga and it is very, very hot). There are some nights when I’ve even been able to sleep without a fan blowing inches away from my face, which for me at this point, is a definite win.

There are little annoyances, as well. It makes drying my laundry almost impossible, though one day it was so windy my clothes actually dried even with the rain. It also makes running quite difficult, and except for a few fun runs in the rain, I have been mostly house bound this past month.

The main effect of the rain, however, is the impact rain has on school. My classroom has no light and the school has a tin roof. This means that when it rains my class becomes incredibly dark and loud. In order for my students to hear I have to shout over the rain, which is not very conducive to learning when you are trying to teach a foreign language. To combat the rain, Tongan schools embark on what they call a “Long Run,” which means they skip lunch, and end school around 1:30. One of the reasons I teach in the mornings is so I can always teach all of my classes in the event of a Long Run or a half-day.

The rain has been so bad that they have even canceled school four times in the past two weeks. I have never had a snow day, as I sadly missed the one snow day at Wash U when I was studying abroad, but I may be the only kid in America who has had Hurricane days, thanks to Florida, and now rain days, thanks to Tonga.

These days, when the rain is so bad and the wind is howling, there is not much you can do but stay at home. Unfortunately this spell of rain demanded captivity has coincided with the death of my charger –I am expecting a new one any day now – so I have turned to my last remaining resource, reading. While I love to read and have read a lot regardless of the weather since I arrived in Tonga, I read something like 5 books in one week, which is too much even for me. Luckily, as I am writing this post, the weather seems to be turning and since Tuesday it has been beautiful, with only the occasional sun shower. I have been freed.

In non-rain related news, I have two school related anecdotes that I think are worth mentioning. The first is that a student told me that a dog ate his homework…and I believed him….and it was true. I thought the dog eating the homework story was an urban legend, something no student has ever been able to relay to his teacher with a strait face. Well in Tonga, myths are meant to be broken I suppose.

The second story revolves around a test. This week I gave my class 6 and 5 a reading and writing test. This test, designed by a former pcv in Tonga, is one of the ways Peace Corps evaluates my teaching. I give the same test in the beginning and end of the year, and then relate on a form how many kids improved by 10%.

After administering the test, I joked with my counterpart Paea that if I really wanted to integrate into Tongan culture, I needed to publicize the test scores, rank the students, invite the entire school and all the parents to my classroom, and hold a ceremony where I call up the kids in order from the highest to lowest achieving. He loved this idea and thought it was hilarious, because this is what Tongans actually do.

The scores of the every child on the Class 6 exam which decides what High School they will attend, and is a HUGE deal, is publicly announced to all of Tonga on the radio. The students in each school are ranked by how well they do in school that year in front of the parents and the entire school at the school’s closing ceremony.

This is basically the equivalent of posting every senior in High School’s SAT score so everyone can see everyone’s scores, then holding a ceremony in front of all the parents, students, and teachers, ranking the students by their scores. Tongans, however, have an amazing ability to laugh at themselves and others without any malice, and do not feel self-conscious during these events; though I think part of this is that having people see you self-conscious is possibly worse than a low-test score. I was very surprised when I first learned about this system, which works well for Tonga, but I’m sure would be disaster for us back home.

That is all for today. Thank you for reading and have a great weekend!

The Inside of Swallows Cave

With the other pcvs at the Lookout in Holonga

The Outer Islands

Two weeks ago, I promised pictures and adventure. I hope this post lives up to that promise. When I look back over the past two weekends, it doesn’t seem like I am in the Peace Corps. True, there is some unique cultural immersion which screams Peace Corps, but the diving, snorkeling, and caving, sound more like something out of a South Pacific tourist book than a government agency. Don’t worry though, during the week I still very much work, and I will return to that premise in the next post. But, for now, it is adventure.

Also, warning, this will be a long post so I will try to briefly touch upon my first weekend, before going into a longer exploration of my experience on the outer islands.

Two weeks ago I went scuba diving with another pcv and an Australian volunteer. I am certified, and as I have been able to save some of the money Peace Corps gives me each month, I was able to afford to go to scuba diving. I was incredibly excited. Besides the obvious thrill of diving, I could not wait to take a motorboat and cruise through the ocean between all of the islands. I had not been on a boat, except for the ferry when I first came to Vava’u, since coming to Tonga so I was perhaps more enthusiastic about just being out on the water than even the diving itself.

First, however, it is important to understand the geography of Tonga and Vava’u before I delve further into my story (it may also be helpful to Google a map of Vava’u as well). The main island of Tonga is Tongatapu. I live in Vava’u, 300 km to the north, which is called an outer island because it is not the main island. Vava’u has a main island called Vava’u Lahi where most of the volunteers – 6 out of 9 to be exact – live, including myself, as well as most of the Tongan population of Vava’u.

Around Vava’u are dozens of islands. Some are huge and some are tiny. Some are inhabited and some are completely empty. They are beautiful, and far closer than they appear on maps, but with a slow moving Tongan boat it can take as long as 2 and half hours to reach some of the farther islands. It may sounds confusing, but basically there is a main island of Vava’u where I live, and many smaller islands surrounding the main island, some of which are inhabited.

So, with the lesson finished, two weeks ago, the three of us and our Australian scuba guide, who has lived in Vava’u for 17 years, Riki, set out to dive. The first step was to explore the various islands and see where the ocean was the calmest, and therefore where the best diving would be.

We jetted out of the harbor and started cruising around the islands (in Tongan boats this would take forever but on his motorboat it took maybe 30 minutes), before finally choosing the distant and uninhabited island of ‘Eukafa to dive. ‘Euakafa is a large island, far from the main island, that screams prehistoric and if you told me dinosaurs still live there I’d probably believe you. If I am not getting my islands mixed up, I believe it is the same island that Survivor wanted to use for their show before eventually choosing Vanuatu instead.

The diving itself was incredible. The topography was rich and varied, and the reef was thick with choral and schools of fish. While under the water, I saw clown fish, lionfish, giant clams, eels, and a 6 ft leopard shark, which I could have sworn was 15 feet long. Fortunately it was sleeping, but I’d be lying if I said my oxygen did not deplete a little more rapidly when I saw that shark taking a cat nap behind the reef.

For those of you who are not divers, you cannot dive again right after you come up for air. It takes a little time before you can dive again, so we spent the next two hours boating around, eating an egg sandwich, and trolling which is basically a type of fishing where you drag a line behind a moving boat. We only caught one fish, but I think Riki was very happy to capture his future dinner.

After the proper time had elapsed, we dove again in between the islands of Tapana and Pangaimotu. This time the topography was mostly flat and unvaried, but the reef and fish were equally stunning. We drove back to the wharf exhausted, content, and exhilarated by an incredible day of diving.

That was adventure number 1. Adventure number 2 is as follows. As I mentioned 6 of the 9 volunteers in Vava’u live on the main island, which means 3 volunteers live on outer islands. Unfortunately, I cannot say which island it is, but the married couple, Mark and Alissa invited all of us out to their island to see their villages – their island has two villages, they live in the one where Alissa teaches and Mark walks to and teaches in the other village (this is a common occurrence for married pcvs) – and to celebrate Marks birthday. 5 of us went, with the only exception being the other married couple, who were sadly too sick to attend.

The first move was to pack all of us, and our stuff, into a Tongan boat from their village. The boats are small, but completely safe as they are the boats that Tongans use to come the main island to shop every week or so. It was a hot sunny day, as it is in Tonga, so I covered myself in sunscreen, a hat, and even a towel or shirt over my head to shield myself from the sun – the last one is a trick I learned from the Tongans.

The ride took around 2 hours but it was absolutely incredible. Moving slowly through the ocean, gazing at the turquoise color blue of the Ocean that only exists in the South Pacific and maybe the Caribbean. The myriad of islands, large and small, that were emerging from the Ocean like magic, as if Atlas was holding them, rather than the world, upon his shoulders.

On the way to the island, we stopped into Swallows Cave. A large cave on the island of Kapa that is big enough to fit a boat through and is absolutely stunning. All of this, mind you, while catching up with other Americans, a rare and special treat.

Upon arriving at the village, this being Friday night, we walked to the house, unloaded our stuff, took a tour of the village, and cooked dinner. At this point I would like to talk a little bit about the villages and how they differ from life on the main island or my village. Life is pretty similar. The houses are the same, and possibly even nicer. The people work in the bush on their farms or fish. There are many churches. The schools are actually nicer and much better equipped as the tourists that travel on their yachts and pass through the islands during the tourist season donate a lot of money and supplies to the schools. The big difference however, is that these villages do not have electricity. The Japanese government is currently undertaking an incredible project where they are providing every house and building on every island with solar power for free – it is amazing to see these solar panels, pillars of technology and the 21^st century, standing next to some of the more dilapidated houses. The project is supposed to be finished in June, and while it cannot provide enough power for fridges, it will supply the island with much needed light.

Returning to my story, we walked around the village, met some of the villagers, and went back to the volunteer’s home, a beautiful Tongan building converted from an old classroom with the chalk board still present, right on the school grounds. Though we could have used the stove, a few of us decided to make a fire in the back yard and cook the burger, chicken franks, fish, and buns on some tin foil and a metal sheet over an empty flame. It was a feast, and we spent the night eating, talking, drinking kava with the men of the village, and, or at least me personally, gazing on our backs to look at some of the greatest collection of visible stars I have ever seen.

Saturday is when the adventure truly began. Our first adventure was to take a boat out to the uninhabited island of Vaka’eitu to snorkel. Remember how I said the beaches were not very good in Tonga? Well, forget about that on the outer islands. The sand in this beach was pristine. Though I knew it was not true, it was easy to believe that I was the first person to ever run my feet through the sand and swim in the crystal clear water. The snorkeling itself was amazing. Probably the best snorkeling I have ever seen. The reef was incredible; there were fish everywhere, and we even tried our hand at spear fishing though none of us came close to catching a fish.

After snorkeling for hours, we ate lunch at that gorgeous beach. Our next stop was the famous Mariners Cave, though we made a quick detour back to Mark’s village to pick up some Tongan high schoolers to help us through the cave. Mariner’s Cave is located on the backside of the island of Nuapapu and is difficult to find. There is no mark to reveal to the world this famous spot, and the cave itself is underwater. To make matters even trickier, the waves were a bit rough.

Before I say anymore, I must first confess. To say I was not a bit nervous, or even, dare I say, scared, would be a lie. I was. Mariner’s Cave is safe but intimidating. The only way to reach the cave is by swimming underwater. The problem is that when you swim into the cave you have no idea how far you need to go or where to emerge, as it is pitch black under the water. The return is much easier as you can see the sun from the outside, but to enter the cave is literally swimming blind.

The Tongans went first to show us how to do it and came back to see if we needed help. I shook off any doubts, took a deep breath, and dove into the blackness where I was told I would eventually find myself in Mariner’s Cave. 10 seconds later, after diving maybe 8 feet down and ten feet across, I was in the cave. Exhilarated that I was still alive, I gazed upon this massive cave that seemed to have appeared out of nothingness. My ears kept popping as the swell of the tide continually changed the pressure in the cave. One by one all of us swam into the cave, proud of making it, and awed by what we were seeing. We spent maybe twenty minutes in that cave, swimming and jumping off the rocks, before taking the much easier route back out of the cave into the open ocean.

Back at the village, exhausted and still stunned, we quickly showered and watched a faiva, or show, that the village had put on to thank and honor us for coming. It was really fun, and very humbling to be treated so well by a village I had never been too before. On Sunday we walked to the other village to see Mark’s school and explore, before returning to the first village to once again be honored by being hosted by the family of the man who had been boating us around with the traditional Sunday lu, cake for Mark’s birthday, and a special puaka tunu, or roast pig.

After that, we returned to the main island on the very slow moving boat, richer from the incredible experience we had all just shared. It was, without a doubt, the best weekend I have had in Tonga, and one that I am eager to experience again.

Thank you all for reading – I know this post was absurdly long. Enjoy the pictures below. These are just some of the one’s I took with my camera, but there should be better ones on Facebook that I will try to get from the other volunteers and post next week.

The view out from inside Swallows Cave

The Faiva the village put on for us

Ready for the sun and the voyage with Mandy. That is the boat we took out to the islands.

The view from Mark's school. Yes, that is sweat. No, I have no shame. In the hot and AC-free Tonga, sweating is a part of life.

A Secret Beach and a not-so-secret School

My 2^nd grade teacher always told me that every good story starts on a positive note, so that is exactly what I am going to do. My charger, for the moment, has been reborn and I am cautiously optimistic it will remain alive until a new charger arrives in the mail. A New Zealander who owns a café in town generously taped up the exposed part of my chord in conductor tape, and so far so good. Thus, I will continue to post as much as I can, and I even have some pictures of myself in them at the end of this post.

This post will focus on my first three weeks of school and the particularly fun weekend I just enjoyed. Since three weeks is a long time, I will limit myself to the highlights as best as I can.

The first week was all about preparation. My classroom had not been used in years so it had to be cleaned, swept, have trash picked from the walls, and nicely white papered over. The first day was very simply taking attendance and seeing how many students we have this year – it can change quite often – and we finished early enough to allow me to watch the Super Bowl in town, something I was sure I would miss.

The rest of the week was an odd combination of jobs, fake teaching, and meetings. We had a PTA meeting on Wednesday where the teachers and I shared what we needed for the upcoming school year. The wish list was the typical Tongan staples: chairs, desks, mosquito coils (literally life savers), carpet (it’s not actually carpet but rather thin sheets that cover the floor), blackboards, and many other items that we may receive in the somewhat distant future. Also, the PTA took a quick vote concerning who would be chairman of the PTA this year, and every hand shot up when my name was “randomly” selected first. It was mostly in jest but I now may or may not be the Chairman of the PTA.

The rest of the week was interesting for a few reasons. First, one day an army of Tongans from the 3 villages that make up my school district descended upon my school to mow the lawn and cut back the vast hordes of vegetation that had grown during the break. I, along with my students, also spent two days gluing large pieces of white paper to the walls to cover the filth, and cutting and coloring slips of paper to decorate the borders and provide some life to the classroom (I have before and after shots of the classroom I will post eventually). I am still waiting on color paper so I can make signs for my classroom, which will brighten up the room, be instructive, and is mandated by the Ministry of Education, but I am still waiting for those to arrive.

The past two weeks have been quite the learning experience. Having never taught before, I do not really know what I am doing, but so far the students have not rebelled. The classes are still picking up steam, and I hope to continue improving each week.

One interesting side note, however, is disciplinary action. I have not mentioned this before, but Tongans use corporal punishment. They hit their kids. Parents do it. Teachers do it. Anyone in the village can hit anyone’s kids and it is seen as a completely acceptable teaching strategy. They are not hit particularly hard, I would compare it to old school Catholic nuns with rulers or 1950’s America, but it is still hard to see.

Last week, there was a day where one of my classes was misbehaving. The kids are great, but their kids, and wanted to test the boundaries for their new Palangi teacher. Since I obviously won’t hit them, and they know that, I had them run laps around the school. My principle, a very nice and little woman in her 40’s asked me why they were running and I told her it was because they were being bad. She looked at me and said, “Why don’t you just hit them?” I explained that I don’t really hit kids, and she looked at me, totally understanding, and said, “That’s ok. Just flick their ears then. Like this..” and demonstrated on a nearby kid. I just smiled and said, maybe next time I will have them clean the classroom.

Now, on to the weekend. This past weekend was a rarity for me – an event-filled three days. Friday night started with a birthday party, as one of the pcv’s was turning 29. We all met at an American owned restaurant, ate some delicious pizza, and had our first taste of beer in weeks. It was great to see everyone, especially the three outer island volunteers who I hadn’t seen in weeks, and have some American time.

After dinner, we went to the only bar in Neiafu, Tonga Bob’s, to kick back, dance, and have a few beers. Noting worth mentioning happened here, except that we left at closing time, so around 12:30. Randomly, after the bar closed, we were invited to drink Kava at the field by the police station where some of the men drink Kava every night. At this impromptu Kava ceremony was the Minister of Finance and the outgoing and active Police Commissioner of Tonga. It was a surreal experience to drink Kava so randomly and with Tongans of such importance. It was one of those moments where I had to just shake my head and laugh, “Only in Tonga.”

Not content to be done for the weekend, a few of us decided to go camping on Saturday. I was extremely excited to go, as I have wanted to go camping since I arrived in Tonga, and I had still yet to swim in the Ocean in Vava’u with the exception of at the wharf on my birthday.

For our destination we chose the Secret Beach (how could a beach with that name be bad?), which is quietly tucked behind a village on the northern end of the island. The beach is called Secret Beach – at least by the volunteers – because there is a bit of a hike to reach the beach, many of the Tongans don’t go there and the tourists don’t know about it. It is a small beach, but it is quiet, empty, and there is actual sand and little coral so the swimming is perfect.

There were 8 of us. 3 pcvs, including myself, two Australian volunteers, an American who lives in Vava’u with his family, a former Australian volunteer who now works in Tonga, and her Tongan boyfriend. For food we decided to roast a pig. We literally bought a pig, put it in a sack, took it with us to the beach, killed and roasted it, and ate it on the beach. It was delicious, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Saturday and Sunday morning we spent there were perfect. The swimming in the clear and unmatched beauty of the waters of the South Pacific was stunning. The sand, something I haven’t felt for months, was periodically cool and hot beneath my feet as the sun moved back and forth between the clouds. We, and by we I mean mainly the only Tongan in our group, killed the pig, took out its organs, washed it, removed the hair, and placed in on a spike to roast it. For our appetizers we gorged on cooked lung and stomach. It was actually pretty good.

We feasted at sunset, just feet from the ocean. We roasted the pig for hours. We threw potatoes and hopa, which is a type of banana, into the fire for side dishes. We even added some salad and cookies for desert for good measure. In a “Why Not,” type mood, a few of us even tried a little pig brain. It tasted ok, neither good nor bad. The entire meal was delicious.

At night we built a large fire and just sat around and talked. I would often lie on my back and just gaze at the stars. It is often cloudy in Vava’u, so while I definitely see more stars than I am used too, I see less than you would think. On this clear night, they literally lit up the sky. Everywhere I looked I could see the Milky Way and constellations I could not recognize.

When we left the next day, we took a quick detour to the lookout to gaze at the cliffs of Vava’u, the beach below, and the vastness of the Ocean. It was a terrific end to a weekend that I won’t soon forget.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this post, as I will not able to post another one for two weeks. I promise, however, it will be worth the wait. Next weekend, I, along with the other pcvs, are heading to an outer to celebrate a birthday and explore. It will be my first time visiting one of the outer islands, and I hope to regale you in the next post with tales of the island and more pictures of your favorite author.

Enjoy the photos! (I know they’re overdue)

The view from the beach

The lookout.  That is the beach below. 

The pig, pre-roasted

The Feast

A Momentary Absence

Hello Readers. I, unfortunately, have some bad news to relate.

First, it seems that in the past week something happened to my blog. I submitted a post last week, without a problem, but was then made aware two days later that my blog was no longer appearing online when I spoke with my parents on the phone. As I only go online once a week, I’m afraid my blog had disappeared for the last few days, which I am sure confused anyone who tried to read it this past week. It certainly surprised me and I apologize for the confusion.

I have since rectified the problem. I am not exactly sure what happened, but the problem seems to be fixed, and I hope this will not be an issue again. The Blogger website told me various ways I could fix the problem, but, in truth, all I did was sign in and the problem went away. Again, I am hopeful it will remain working from now on.

The second issue, however, is a bit more daunting. My computer charger is breaking. Before leaving for Tonga and over the past 5 months, I have constantly worried that my computer would break as I have repeatedly been told that electronics do not do well in hot and humid Tonga. I never thought about my charger. Not even once.

This past week my charger has been held together by a combination of tape, clips, and luck. It is still currently working, but each day has become subsequently harder to maneuver any kind of electricity toward my computer and I fear that this won’t last much longer.

My parents have sent my new charger in the mail. This can take anywhere from 4 weeks to never. I am also furiously looking for a charger in Vava’u. My secret hope is that I might be able to find someone willing to sell me their old, extra charger, but so far I have not met with much success.

This, therefore, may be my last post for a while. I wanted to let my faithful readers know, so that they were not worried about my lack of updates and the odd timing of the blog’s temporary disappearance. I will still be able to access my email through other means, so if you would like any updates on my life please email me.

Thank you for understanding. I sincerely hope this stoppage will be short lived and I will soon have use of a fully charged computer.

Fish Trucks and a Beach-less Island

There are times during the past five months that I have noticed something random that has peaked my interest. These perceptions are not important or worthy enough to be the subjects of a post, nor are they really related to the topics I have previously explored. Therefore, I have decided to mention some of the odd, surprising, interesting, weird, and different things that I have noticed in this post and will talk more about the first week or two of school in my next post.

1.     Everyone reading this is probably familiar with the ice cream trucks in America that used to play a distinctive melody that made kids sprint to the truck to buy ice cream as fast as their little legs could carry them. Though these trucks are somewhat outdated now, I believe that everyone has an idea of what I am talking about.

Well Tonga has something similar, except instead of ice cream, the ice cream man is selling fish. Whenever the fish market does not sell out, a man – always the same man – in a car – always the same car – with a large trunk drives through all of the villages blowing a whistle. This whistle tells everyone that he is selling the fish stuffed in the coolers in the back of his car. While this does not elicit the same level of euphoria as say an ice cream truck in America, the fish car man and his whistle do exceedingly well in Vava’u.

2.     When you hear South Pacific island certain images pop into your head. Palm trees filled with coconuts. Strong Ocean swells. Picturesque scenery. Incredible sunsets. Gorgeous beaches.

All of these images are certainly true for Tonga, except for the beaches. With the exception of the island group Ha’apai, which is famous for its beaches, Tonga has pretty terrible beaches. There are several reasons for this.

When you reach the ocean in Tonga you find several things. Mud flats. Cliffs. Mangroves. Blowholes. Sand-less expanses. Rocky outcrops. All of these things make it difficult to swim in the ocean. It is still remarkably pretty, just from the vantage point of land.

That being said there are beaches. The outer islands, which I have yet to visit, supposedly have beautifully beaches filled with coral reefs and are great for snorkeling. There are several beaches within biking or driving distance from my house that are beautiful and swimmable at high tide. These beaches are, however, surprisingly few and far between.

3.     Children in Tonga do not call their parents by the Tongan equivalent of mother and father. They use their first names. In fact, first names are pretty much used in any scenario in Tonga, regardless of where you are. I don’t know if this is unique to the South Pacific or not, I just found it surprising.

4.     The following is a true anecdote that I wanted to relate:

Several years ago in Tongatapu, some New Zealanders started a business that made some material out of used coconuts. In the coconut littered Tonga, this seemed like a great idea. They offered Tongans money for every coconut they brought into the factory, much like how you can receive more for returning empty cans and bottles in the States.

The business was going well. They were getting coconuts but they needed more. They decided to double the price for each coconut, hoping to offer Tongans a greater incentive to bring their coconut shells in larger numbers. Instead of receiving double the coconuts, however, the number sharply reduced to half the previous amount.

I love this story. For me, it is classic Tonga. This anecdote incorporates several characteristics of Tongans. There is a degree of laziness in this. Any Tongan you meet will readily admit this and privately and public lament the sometimes laziness and island mentality of the Tongan people.

However, more than laziness, there is also ambition. Without a doubt, a different kind of ambition than we recognize in Western society, but an ambition nonetheless. This is an ambition to be content, to provide what is thought to be needed and no more than that.

The Tongans bringing the coconuts wanted to receive a certain amount of money for their work. When the New Zealanders doubled the wages, the Tongans saw it as a way to get the money they wanted for half the work, rather than a means of doubling their income. This was not a way for them to get rich, but rather a way to acquire the specific amount of money that they required.

This is a story that, in many ways, sums up the experience of living in Tonga for the better (almost always for better) and for the worse.

5.     The hardest thing about doing laundry in Tonga is everything but actually doing the laundry. It is making sure it won’t rain for the rest of the day and the next one. It is making sure the clothesline is high and out of reach of pigs, chickens, and dogs. It is finding a spot to place the chair, bucket of soapy water, bucket of fresh water, clips for the clothesline, and laundry bag that isn’t covered in animal poop.

Let me explain. There are two methods of fencing in Tonga. Keeping things in and keeping things out. Almost every house in Tonga, including my village, has a fence around it to keep the unfenced in pigs out. The only exception to this is my house.

Since most houses have this fence, some families keep their pigs fenced in within this area. Other families keep their pigs fenced in an enclosure on their farm in the bush. Others, probably the majority I must confess, don’t fence their animals and let them wander and forage for food except for daily return trips when the animals know to receive food.

As I mentioned, my house has no fence. It is also on a field that is lush and green. Sometimes the field is used for volleyball. As my fingers type these words, there is volleyball net literally 5 feet from my front door.

Always, however, my yard is filled with pigs walking around and eating the grass. There are some benefits to this. I only rarely burn my garbage now because the pigs, chickens, and dogs consume all of my trash. (Side note: Watching what pigs eat, even more than watching them killed, makes it somewhat harder to eat them. They are delicious, though, so I persevere). The negative consequence of this, however, is that my yard is riddled with animal poop. At night, I have to walk with a flashlight to make sure I don’t step in anything too gross.

Occasionally, some of the villagers come and collect the poop to either clear the field for volleyball or to use as fertilizer, but until then the field is riddled in excrement. Therefore, finding a spot for laundry isn’t always obvious and I often wake up in the morning saying, “Ah! I love the smell of pig poop (I don’t say poop but use your imagination) in the morning.”

There are more random thoughts that I was planning on bringing up, but as this post is getting longer than I expected, I will save my other gems for a later date. Now, to conclude, there is only one thing left to mention:

Feast Watch 2013

This latest feast update was both a surprise and a bit of a disappointment to your humble protagonist.

Last Friday, I went for a run around 5:15 p.m., as I usually do, as it is much cooler later in the day (thank you for not saying duh). On my way back, a bunch of people in my village were hanging out outside the first house I needed to run past to get home, so I stopped by to say hello. In Tongan, and remember I had just finished a run and was sweaty, exhausted, and had nowhere near the necessary brainpower remaining to concentrate on Tongan, they asked me if I was going to church.

I asked, “When,” to which they replied, “6.” After some quick calculations I realized it was probably close to 6 though I noticed that none of them were even close to being ready. I gave a lukewarm response, to which they said there would be a malanga (speech) and a feast, and heavily implied that I should go. I was done for. Tongans have great guilt trip eyes. The moment I stopped to talk I was doomed.

I rushed back to my house and jumped in the shower. I was still overheated, so after the shower I put on some shorts and sat down right in front of my life-saving fan. I knew it was 6, but as I live within sight of the church, I figured I had some time to spare and I needed to cool down or I would be sweating like crazy.

I was also starving. Readers, please allow me for a minute to backtrack, as it is relevant to the matter at hand. I pretty much cook four things. That is because I can afford and know how to make four things. Those four things are pasta and tomato sauce, grilled (on a stove top) chicken, rice, chicken hotdogs, semi-fried and quasi-edible eggs, and cooked vegetables. Oh wait, that is 6. Well, regardless, I can’t cook many things.

Occasionally, because it is more expensive, I am able to make spaghetti and meat sauce. I had done this once before in the almost 3 months I have lived in Vava’u and it was delicious, by far the best thing I can make. For lunch that day, I ate little knowing that I was going to cook my super amazing spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner that night. I was looking forward to it all day – in Peace Corps these little things end up meaning a whole lot.

To return, I was starving. I was tired. I had just run and I was still exhausted, but I knew that I should go to the malanga so I decided to hold off on the cooking until 7:30, as things often start late in Tonga.

6:30 - nothing happens. I decide to get dressed anyway, so I would be ready whenever the service started. 7 - no one is at the church. 7:30 – nada, zip. My stomach is beginning to eat itself. There are weird noises. It was time for desperate measures.

I walked over to my neighbor’s house to see what time the church was starting. Lisi, Mana’s daughter, told me 6. Mind you, it was 7:30. I kindly mentioned this to her, and she said, “Oh, I hadn’t realized. I don’t know when it will start.” At this point I just needed something to keep my mind off of food so I went into the hall, where they just put in a tv last week, and watched the Seven’s rugby tournament that is currently being played in New Zealand.

8 0’ clock. The bell rings. People are walking over to the church. Yes! – Never thought I would say that before Tonga.

I walk over. Instead of everyone going into the church, some mats are set outside for the youth to sit on. I walk over to Mana and ask him why there was a special malanga today. He replied, “To give the youth something to do on a Friday night instead of going to bars and drinking. You know, to make sure they save room for Jesus in their lives.” I said the only thing I could think of, “Ok.”

I sat down with Mana on one of the benches, and for the next hour I listened to speeches I did not understand and watched what can only be described as several interpretative dances to religious music performed by the youth group. Meanwhile, I was thinking of how much food I was planning on devouring at the feast and hoped that the opening prayer did not last too long.

9:30. The malanaga is over and we walk into the hall to eat. There was nothing there. Normally during feasts, there are tables filled with food everywhere. Today, there weren’t even mats. I looked around for a bit until one of the villagers gestured for me to join him at the kava circle. I drank kava to hide my hunger, until a few minutes later I was passed a parcel of tin foil. I opened it up greedily. Inside was some curry chicken and breadfruit. I devoured it within minutes, was offered and ate another package moments later, talked for a bit, and then returned home stuffed, happy, and content.

That is the first of my feasts. It was not much of a feast, it started late, and all I could think of during the dances was Will Ferrell in Old School minus the ribbon. It was classic Tonga and I went to sleep dreaming of a lunch of spaghetti and meat sauce for the next day.

Thank you for reading!