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 Though these trucks are somewhat outdated now, I believe that everyone has an idea of what I am talking about.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!