The Road Less Traveled : A Family Affair

Two weeks ago I was generously invited to two family events, a reunion and a wedding. When invited, I of course, was only too quick to acquiesce to both requests as the two events featured my favorite Tongan cultural event – the feast. I know I have spoken about feasts ad nauseam in this blog, and for good reason as they are delicious and quite filling, but these two events also demonstrate well how the current Tongan culture blends the modern with the traditional and incorporates the international diversity of the Tongan family.

One day during school, my counterpart Paea invited me to his wife Sihoi’s family reunion in the nearby village of ‘Utui. Trying to play the affair down, Paea told me that they were planning on having a small bbq with a few visiting family members from overseas in attendance on the following Saturday. He offered that if I had nothing better to do than I should come. After assuring him that I without a doubt had nothing to do, as is usually the case on the weekends, I promised I would be there.

That Saturday, not to be deterred by the torrential downpour devastating the island at the time, I picked up my umbrella and commenced the 2 to 3 mile walk to the bbq. While umbrellas are not particularly useful instruments when the wind blows the rain sideways, I was determined to celebrate with Paea and fill my stomach. An hour and a half later, soaked through and through, I arrived at the house to, of course, not see a causal bbq.

In front of the house a large tent had been assembled. Around the tent were balloons and large leaves, attempting to beautify the structure. There were 3 long tables set up, covered with all the feast staple.s Under the tent and sheltered within the house, were over 100 family members from Tonga, New Zealand, Australia, and the US, as well as half the village of ‘Utui. I quickly found out that this was not just a family reunion we were celebrating but also the patriarch of the family’s 90^th birthday.

I spotted Paea and went over to him to joke with him about the scale of the feast and ask him how many pigs he had to contribute to this celbration, an expensive proposition. After assuring me he only donated 3 pigs, but that he missed school on Friday because he we was driving from village to village looking for a few cows to buy and kill for the feast, the conversation went something like this:

Me: I thought you said this was a small bbq?

Paea: Yea, I though it was. It kind of became something more.

Me: Sharing a laugh at this understatement I responded, “You know…in the US when you invite someone to a bbq it’s usually just a few guys throwing a couple of burgers and dogs on a grill.”

Paea: After laughing, “Not in Tonga. Here, food is always a serious business.”

The feast itself was great, but what was more interesting was conversing with all the family, an interesting collection of Tongans of different generations living all around the world. I spoke to a Tongan that lived in Houston and worked for United Airlines and his son, who having been born in America can’t speak Tongan. I met a student around my age, who grew up in New Zealand and is currently studying in Sidney. And on and on it went. As is usually the case with large Tongan gatherings, it was an eclectic affair of world travelers and surprising back-stories. Though two things were of course the same. First, the food was plentiful and second, as happens at every event, the men and women, to celebrate after the feast was done, started making whooping noises that I cannot faithfully describe while dancing in the most ridiculous manner. The amount of laughter could be heard for miles as an 80 your old man “grinded” with a 55 year old woman in the rain in the Tongan fashion, and it reminded me that you never truly lose the culture you are born with no matter where you go in your life or how long you live abroad. Some things simply never change.

I did not take any food back with me when Paea drove me home, as I had another feast waiting for me the next day. As the actual wedding occurred the day before, the feast on Sunday was a low-key affair. We enjoyed the normal church service, which was followed by yet another feast in yet another tent. This time, however, I had prime sitting real estate, as I was positioned directly across from one of the roasted pigs. As always I ate my full and spoke with what is happily becoming my more confident Tongan, which I am fortunate to say is surprisingly getting much better and allowing me to engage in deeper conversations with the Tongans in my villages.

When the feast was over, typical Tonganess erupted. Men, women, boys, and girls, and even one infant who I saw grasping a root crop, started attacking the left overs and bringing heaps, and yes heaps is actually an accurate term in this setting, of food back to their house. Since my fridge was decently full already, I just grabbed some root crop, said my thanks and goodbyes, and started to walk away. One of the women, however, seeing my hands almost empty of food, stopped me and before I could argue grabbed a cardboard box for me. She then cut a huge chuck of pig for me, while also throwing noodles, chicken, fish, and everything within her reach into the box. When the food frenzy was finally finished, I had about 10 pounds of food to bring home, including the entire hind leg, with the attached foot, of a roasted adolescent pig. Chuckling as I was walked home, I only could marvel at the assortment of goodies I was bringing back and how it all had come about.

Thank you all for reading. Please enjoy the photos of these two family affairs.