The Road Less Traveled : A Proud Moment

It is very rare that you are able to see yourself through the eyes of the people around you. Too often, even for the most self-aware among us, we must simply guess what people think of us. This can be a good thing – there is a reason people say ignorance is bliss and wouldn’t it be terrifying to actually know what people thought of you all the time? – but sometimes this leaves you unaware of the how even the smallest gesture can have an outsize impact.

I have been lucky enough to have enjoyed several of these moments during my time here, two of which first spring to mind before I get into the crux of this post. The first revolved my American expatriate friends, who early in our relationship were at the same café as the other volunteers, and I made sure to introduce everyone of the volunteers to the couple. I did not think much of the event. I was simply trying to be polite, and I always strive to make introductions when people don’t know each other. It was not until weeks later that I found out how touched the couple was and how much they appreciated my introduction. I had absolutely no idea that this tiny gesture could make such a difference.

Similarly, almost a year ago today, I was teaching a night class to the kids in my village, when I asked a Class 5 student who speaks exceptional English that she learned from attending school in town to help an older Form 1 boy with his English homework. When another child told me that it was strange that a younger girl would help an older boy, I said that it was ok because she was so good at English. It was a small bout of praise, similar to the comments I always try to encourage my students with at school, and I quickly forgot about the encounter.

Eight months later, I was invited by her family for after church lunch, and I was sitting on the couch next her mother, when she told me how happy I made her and her daughter because of this praise from so long ago. Her pride in her daughter’s abilities and my acknowledgement of that talent was so tangible I felt that I could reach out and grab it. I was amazed that they both still remembered what I had said, and then mentioned it to me so long after the fact. Once again, I was stunned.

Now, to the point of this post, I often have no idea what the Tongans I live with think of me. To the children, I know I am often a toy or a friend, or at worse the mean teacher who makes them study English. With the adults it is less clear due to the language barrier and the Tongan cultural unwillingness to show most of their emotions. I have been incredibly accepted by each of my three villages, but once in a while I am curious to know how they view me as an individual person, rather than yet another Peace Corps Volunteer.

I was rewarded such a moment at a church fundraiser last November. I have long since learned that when you are going to feasts, it is important to bring plastic bags so that you can take the piles on uneaten food back to the house for left over’s. At first I was loathe to do this out of some combination of shyness and not wanting to make some kind of cultural snafu, but those feelings have long since evaporated as I have learned to grab food as any Tongan would.

At this fundraiser, I was sitting in a pew at the Wesleyan Church as some of the women were walking around with collection boxes. When the minister’s wife walked past me, she asked me if I had brought any bags with me for the feast, and I tapped the pocket in my tupenu (Tongan skirt) and told her I had brought three. She smiled and praised my foresight, while the people around us who had heard the exchange chuckled.

The real moment, however, happened two hours later at the actual feast. During feasts, people continually stand up and say fakamalos, which are basically thank you speeches, and are very important. Almost every time the person saying the speech will tear up and have to pause from being so emotionally overwhelmed. This is one of the few times in Tongan culture it is ok to show your emotion. One of the men, during his fakamalo, recounted my bag-church conversation, and then praised me for being so “poto,” (smart) and how Tongan I have become. All around the Tongans at the feast were laughing and calling me poto, clearly impressed that I had brought three plastic bags with me.

As ridiculous as this may sound, I swear that I have never been more praised in my life than at this moment, and my village has never been more proud to have me as “their” Pisi Koa than during this feast. It was a surreal moment, being praised for bringing plastic bags, but it was very Tongan and I felt incredibly happy to be able to feel such a moment. Oddly enough, I believe this will be one of my fondest memories of my time in Tonga when I think back to this experience years from now. At that moment in time, for a few minutes, I saw how everyone saw me.

Thank you for reading and enjoy the photos.