To begin: My service in Tonga has ended as of June 27 and I have returned to the U.S. where I am adjusting to a new life as a “retired” person.

The first semester of 2011 has shown that 'Atenisi University in its current incarnation is not sustainable. Low enrollment, alienated alumni, and debt together mean that reinvention and outside investment will be necessary if Futa Helu's brave creation is to have a future, and it became clear that there was nothing further I could contribute. This is not a good time for liberal arts education anywhere; in Tonga the bad economy has dried up virtually all outside funding support and the government is more interested in supporting more practical tertiary education enterprises. And the loss of Futa Helu over the last decade has been catastrophic; his energy, vision, and charisma carried 'Atenisi for many years, but without him the school has struggled for effective leadership. So with the first semester complete, my wonderful students said goodby with a lunch of cookies and fruit. I am very proud of the work they did this year in our Critical Thinking class and I am going to miss being with them as they continue their studies.

So in grand Peace Corps tradition I distributed all the household stuff we had accumulated to my fellow volunteers, said my goodbyes to the staff, enjoyed a farewell dinner with colleagues at the Emerald Chinese restaurant, and then headed home. Four flights and 30 hours later (with no serious “travel adventures”) Kathy was there to welcome me home. A few days later we celebrated the 4th of July with good friends and fireworks.

Here are a few of my favorite visual memories of my 21 months and Kathy's 15 months in the South Pacific. I have posted these and more in a Picasa web album (see link to the left). Kathy educating

Marching bands and parades

'Atenisi GraduationKathy's Library was a huge success

Tonga's traditional culture lives on.



So faithful readers, this closes out Tonga Tangos. It has been a memorable, challenging, frustrating, and rewarding experience. A "game changer" for sure, but exactly how remains to be seen. Perhaps another blog will emerge from that experience, who knows?

Last Friday Tonga celebrated the Queen's 85th birthday. The public highlight was a gathering of most of the school children on Tongatapu at the big stadium here for a morning of singing and dancing.

Her Majesty Queen Halaevalu Mata'aho is the mother of King George Tupou V, Tonga's current King since 2006. He succeeded his father, the Queen's husband, King George Tupou IV who had been king for almost 40 years. She is well loved by her people as demonstrated by the tremendous outpouring of love we witnessed that morning.

Everybody sang happy birthday as six bands played.

For a great description of the day and other events of the weekend, please visit Elena and Mark's blog here: MK Squared

Video clips of the dancing are here: https://picasaweb.google.com/robthbeck/QueenSBirthdayDances?authkey=Gv1sRgCPu_lZ_Z74adkgE#

Herewith some background on the dances. (Thank you to the Tonga Visitors Bureau website for the descriptions of the dances.) The Ma’ulu’ulu was performed by the Tonga Teacher's Institute and was led by Princess Frederika, the King's niece.“The ma’ulu’ulu is a traditional Tongan dance, performed by a group of seated men and women; the dance form is a direct successor of the ancient Tongan ‘otuhaka. Performers sit down in a row on the ground with the right leg crossed over the left. If possible men and women alternate. On informal occasions the dance master may walk around, clapping his hands to keep up the rhythm and to encourage the performers. ““For large performances of several hundred participants, dancers are placed in staggered rows. The most talented dancers and those of high social status are placed in the front row on the ground. Other rows are organised behind on benches of various height until the final standing row at the back.”“Like the ‘otuhaka, the ma’ulu’ulu consists usually of alternating singing and instrumental sections. The dance starts with the beating of the nafa, a huge drum covered with a leather skin which is a remarkable spectacle in itself.”

“The second part conveys the poetry in song and movement. Like all other Tongan dances, the gestures have a strong relationship with the words. The lyrics of the song are usually written for the occasion. A ma’ulu’ulu takes around 15 minutes to complete but it may have taken the performers several months to learn the sequence.”

The Tau’olunga was performed by Queen Salote College, an all-girls Wesleyan high school.

“The tau’olunga is a solo dance although it is occasionally performed by groups of up to six dancers. This is the greatest hour for the performer, body glistening with coconut oil, hair flowing free and dressed in elaborate costume. Only the prettiest and most skilled girls perform this dance. The tau’olunga is always performed according to the words of the song, thus if one observes closely, one can see when the dancer is depicting a sunrise, flowers worn in the ear or a lover departing.”

“While the dance is being performed, a young man can act as a contrast to the soloist by mimicking her movements in an exaggerated and clownish way. The caricature is supposed to draw attention to the beauty and skills of the performer.”

“A tau’olunga girl is usually clothed in a wrap dress. The dress can be made from tapa with traditional designs or a mat of handwoven pandanus leaves. Some girls wear a piece of cloth covered with green leaves, fragrant flowers, shells or sometimes a grass skirt. The dress is strapless and reaches to the knees, leaving the dancer’s arms and legs bare. As long skirts are the traditional apparel for Tongan girls, this is an occasion for performers to show off their shapely legs. Around her waist the dancer wears a belt (sisi) usually made from leaves and flowers. Bracelets and anklets may be worn, ranging from simple bands of cloth or tapa to beautifully elaborate. Performers wear a black ribbon with a white cowrie shell around the neck and no girl dances without her shell. A little crown (tekiteki) of feathers or grass is worn to enhance head movements during the dance. Costumes made entirely of natural materials are the most valued but unfortunately synthetic and plastic are making inroads in modern costume design.”

The Kailao was performed by Tonga College, an all-boys high school. Several of my clips were taken toward the end of the dance, and you'll notice the elaborate costumes are beginning to disintegrate, a result of the very high level of movement required. “Kailao is a dance of foreign origin from ‘Uvea – Wallis Island and is a standing dance usually performed by men only.”

“The dancers, of which there can be any number, wear fanciful costumes and decorated hats. The men, bearing stylized clubs (pate kailao), dance in a fierce manner that emulates fighting. Unlike most Tongan dances, the kailao is performed without singing. Instead, the performance is set to the accompaniment of a slit drum or a tin box which sets the tempo. This dance allows Tongan men to display discipline, obedience and skill with their weapons.”

(Go here for more information about the Kingdom of Tonga: http://www.tongaholiday.com/)

It's finally cooling down some here in the Kingdom, and that's a good thing. It's been hot this year!

Fulfill that Fantasy: At the Saturday market a vendor had official “2010 NCAA Champion: Butler” T-shirts, brand new, never been worn. So if you are mourning Butler's losses in the last two championship games, you can alter your personal reality by just letting me know and I'll get you one of these shirts. And now you now what happens to those pre-printed shirts made up for the losers: they somehow wind up in places like Tonga where nobody cares.

Critical Thinking: My favorite class to teach this year at my little university is our new Critical Thinking course, required for all new students and all who wish to graduate. Therefore it is the class with the largest enrollment, and even though it's the first class of the day (starting at 9 am.) I regularly have 9 or 10 students attending. On Wednesday a major assignment was due, their first cut at doing a critical analysis of an important problem in their life. However, at 9 am., no students. At about 9:30 one student arrived, but needed to access a printer to print out his assignment. By 10:30 (when the class usually ends) I had seen another 3 or 4 students, all of whom were seeking a computer and/or printer to complete their work (one of the requirements of this assignment was for the the assignment to be written using a computer word processor so that it can be more easily revised, and most students do not regularly use a computer for their school work, although most seem to be fairly adept with Facebook and Bebo). I shouldn't have been surprised; this is completely normal behavior for our students; planning ahead is not a mastered skill, and seems to defy any instructor’s attempts to teach it.

Bicycle Adventures: Recently my beautiful little Schwinn mountain bike was stolen from the front porch in the middle of the night while I slept. (That same night another volunteer home in my neighborhood was invaded and computers stolen, also while they slept.) Home invasion burglaries are rampant in the Kingdom, and palangi volunteers seem to be particularly susceptible. Anyway, I became acutely aware of how dependent I had become on bicycle transportation, and no matter how I kept repeating the idea that walking is the ideal exercise, I felt severely hampered in my ability to get around. Nuku'alofa isn't that big, but it's still a city of 35,000 and spread out.

But a few weeks later I was talking to a volunteer from Australia about my mobility problems, and she promptly offered to loan me her bicycle, which she brought with her but has barely ridden. Deterred by the cavernous potholes, the bike chasing dogs, and the roaming pigs, and because unlike Peace Corps volunteers Aussies can drive cars, she had lost all interest in riding. So my mobility has returned, and while I remain hopeful my bicycle will come back to me (this is a small island after all) I now have a pretty good ride and will be forever grateful to my Aussie angel! (And the bike is now part of the décor in my front room whenever I'm home.)

Diving in Vava'u: I spent the school break week last month in Vava'u, the Northern group of Tongan islands that is a favorite haunt of yachties from all over the world, thanks to its protected deep-water harbor. These island are much hillier than Tongatapu (where I live) and Ha'apai (where we trained) and are the best tourist destination in Tonga from the perspective of scenic beauty. I had a good time scuba diving with some Peace Corps buddies and generally just hanging out.

The big news in Vava'u was that the next season of “Survivor” was going to be set here, but last minute demands from the major hotel owner nixed that deal, so Survivor will be going back to Fiji instead. It's a big blow to the tourist industry in Vava'u and Tonga, as the kind of exposure from being a Survivor locale is priceless (had you ever heard of Vanuatu before Survivor went there?). The irony, of course, is that the operation that will be hardest hit will be the hotel owner's who scotched the deal; his big hotel was completely empty the week I was there (which is normal this time of year) and Survivor would have booked his entire facility for several months. Needless to say no one is very happy with him these days.

I'll leave you with the typical daily sunset over Vava'u's Port of Refuge.

It's finally cooling down some here in the Kingdom, and that's a good thing. It's been hot this year!

Fulfill that Fantasy: At the Saturday market a vendor had official “2010 NCAA Champion: Butler” T-shirts, brand new, never been worn. So if you are mourning Butler's losses in the last two championship games, you can alter your personal reality by just letting me know and I'll get you one of these shirts. And now you now what happens to those pre-printed shirts made up for the losers: they somehow wind up in places like Tonga where nobody cares.

Critical Thinking: My favorite class to teach this year at my little university is our new Critical Thinking course, required for all new students and all who wish to graduate. Therefore it is the class with the largest enrollment, and even though it's the first class of the day (starting at 9 am.) I regularly have 9 or 10 students attending. On Wednesday a major assignment was due, their first cut at doing a critical analysis of an important problem in their life. However, at 9 am., no students. At about 9:30 one student arrived, but needed to access a printer to print out his assignment. By 10:30 (when the class usually ends) I had seen another 3 or 4 students, all of whom were seeking a computer and/or printer to complete their work (one of the requirements of this assignment was for the the assignment to be written using a computer word processor so that it can be more easily revised, and most students do not regularly use a computer for their school work, although most seem to be fairly adept with Facebook and Bebo). I shouldn't have been surprised; this is completely normal behavior for our students; planning ahead is not a mastered skill, and seems to defy any instructor’s attempts to teach it.

Bicycle Adventures: Recently my beautiful little Schwinn mountain bike was stolen from the front porch in the middle of the night while I slept. (That same night another volunteer home in my neighborhood was invaded and computers stolen, also while they slept.) Home invasion burglaries are rampant in the Kingdom, and palangi volunteers seem to be particularly susceptible. Anyway, I became acutely aware of how dependent I had become on bicycle transportation, and no matter how I kept repeating the idea that walking is the ideal exercise, I felt severely hampered in my ability to get around. Nuku'alofa isn't that big, but it's still a city of 35,000 and spread out.

But a few weeks later I was talking to a volunteer from Australia about my mobility problems, and she promptly offered to loan me her bicycle, which she brought with her but has barely ridden. Deterred by the cavernous potholes, the bike chasing dogs, and the roaming pigs, and because unlike Peace Corps volunteers Aussies can drive cars, she had lost all interest in riding. So my mobility has returned, and while I remain hopeful my bicycle will come back to me (this is a small island after all) I now have a pretty good ride and will be forever grateful to my Aussie angel! (And the bike is now part of the décor in my front room whenever I'm home.)

Diving in Vava'u: I spent the school break week last month in Vava'u, the Northern group of Tongan islands that is a favorite haunt of yachties from all over the world, thanks to its protected deep-water harbor. These island are much hillier than Tongatapu (where I live) and Ha'apai (where we trained) and are the best tourist destination in Tonga from the perspective of scenic beauty. I had a good time scuba diving with some Peace Corps buddies and generally just hanging out.

The big news in Vava'u was that the next season of “Survivor” was going to be set here, but last minute demands from the major hotel owner nixed that deal, so Survivor will be going back to Fiji instead. It's a big blow to the tourist industry in Vava'u and Tonga, as the kind of exposure from being a Survivor locale is priceless (had you ever heard of Vanuatu before Survivor went there?). The irony, of course, is that the operation that will be hardest hit will be the hotel owner's who scotched the deal; his big hotel was completely empty the week I was there (which is normal this time of year) and Survivor would have booked his entire facility for several months. Needless to say no one is very happy with him these days.

I'll leave you with the typical daily sunset over Vava'u's Port of Refuge.

As the first day of Fall comes and goes, we're getting some relief from the heat with a few days of very stormy weather. Periods of intense wind and rain with spells of relative calm, and then another downpour.

Here at Tonga Tangos we've been continuing to adjust to our new situation, life without Kathy. Here's how Lilo feels about her being gone:

She's a very sensitive cat.

And I miss her too, and while I'm not exactly hiding in the mat like Lilo I am having to work at getting out and finding ways to socialize. Kathy and I are able to spend some time every day doing some text "chatting" to keep up with each other's doings, and we keep hoping that Skype will actually allow us to talk, but that hasn't happened for a while. Anyway, faithful readers not from our home in the Pacific Northwest please be advised that she is integrating nicely back into what she likes to call her "real life" and seems to be doing fine.

As for me, I continue to wonder at the ability of a Tongan institution that is basically broke and in debt to continue to function. At my little university we are holding classes as usual; our students are attending in their usual fashion, and life goes on more or less as normal. But now when the one copier we have runs out of toner and there is no replacement cartridge on hand (not an unusual situation), we now have the added problem of not enough cash on hand to go buy more. So it may be a few days before some student makes a fee payment and provides the cash needed to make the purchase, and in the meantime we are unable to supply the written materials for our instruction. Staff and other faculty have only been able to take small draws against the salaries they are owed. Yet they continue to come every day and teach.

This pattern is not unusual in Tonga. As an example I was discussing this situation with one of my PC colleagues the other day, and she was relating how a non-profit group she socializes with hasn't paid their bills for a few months now, yet they go on without any apparent worry. That situation amazes her as much as much as mine amazes me.

There are many stories like this around Tonga. People here have a different relationship to money, one that is very difficult for us Westerners to get our heads around. (Someday I might try to write about the sai pe--things are just fine, no worries-- attitude that suffuses much of life here.)

On the instructional front, I'm teaching a new course on Critical Thinking which is now required for all our students seeking a degree. With guidance from my friend Cindy back home at Blue Mountain Community College and materials from The Foundation for Critical Thinking I am plowing ahead to convert these students with a lifetime of experience as rote learners trained to always supply the "right" answer into active inquirers who seek to question, evaluate, pursue evidence, and form reasoned judgments based on rational analysis. It is a struggle, but there are glimmers of hope.

Here's Lilo again, telling me to stop "kai po"ing (hogging) the taro chips that I like to have with my daily beer; she has a way of letting her wants be known.

I've taken to going on long Sunday bike rides, usually with friend who is here for a few years working as a nurse. She is a true Kiwi, quite the outdoorswoman, and Sundays are great days to ride because there is so little traffic on the roads. So besides a really good dose of exercise, I'm getting to places on the island I haven't been to before, like Tsunami Rock, a big chunk of coral reef sitting a couple hundred meters inland that could only have arrived there courtesy of a tsunami wave. One day we rode to the Abel Tasman landing site on the Northwesternmost tip of the island. Here's a couple photos from that day:

I know this is hard to make out, just as it is in real life; it is a deadly Stonefish, that looks pretty much like the rocks and coral surrounding it as it lies perfectly still. Stepping on one of these critters can result in serious injury, as there are deadly toxins in the base of its fins. We were lucky to spot it before it caused us any trouble.

Apparently someone decided they should make it easier for tourists to be able to get down into the water from the viewing platform, so this is the ladder they built. Yes, it is every bit as steep and precarious as it looks. But after riding the 20 kms. or so to get there in the summer heat, not getting into the water to cool off was not an option. One of the benefits of cycling on a tropical island.

I'll close this post with another benefit of living here: the gorgeous color that surrounds us; this orchid grows by my front porch.

Next post: How I spent my school break exploring Vava'u.

I “retired” on September 30, 2009. Less than a week later I was a Peace Corps Trainee in Los Angeles receiving my orientation. Within two weeks Kathy and I were settling in with our host family in Ha'apai, Tonga, trying to figure out how to hang a mosquito net, where to brush our teeth, and how we were ever going to get clean in the rudimentary “shower.”

We did learn how to do all those things and much more (with a few health and culture challenges) and began our service in Nuku'alofa in late December. By the time our respective schools started (Kathy's in late January, mine in mid-February) we were fairly well acclimated and settled into our tiny little house and neighborhood. We attended the neighborhood church and some socials and settled into a respectful relationship with our neighbors.

As the year progressed we learned how incredibly difficult it is to be an “educator” in Tonga. There are teachers galore, and most are perfectly content to continue teaching in the manner in which they were taught. Once employed, few are interested in further professional development. Kathy was never able to gain the cooperation of her principal and the staff at her school to conduct the weekly workshops that were the basis of her assignment. But she continued to develop an engaging library program and to demonstrate many effective teaching strategies in the class 4, 5, and 6 classrooms. She insisted that the regular teacher be present during her sessions and to participate in the lesson, but few actively engaged.

After a frustrating first semester attempting to teach Economics as I had done for ten years at a community college, I completely changed my approach. Tongan students at all levels are used to teacher directed learning. They are excellent note takers. Those interested in a good grade will work to memorize the concepts so they can recall them back on worksheets or tests. But to have a discussion about the pros and cons of a position or to apply a concept to a new situation for most students was most difficult, if not impossible. I found that my second year Econ students could recall and apply little from the first year course they had taken the year before.

Despite all this, by the end of the school year Kathy and I each felt that we had had some success. Kathy in particular created some great learning experiences for her children, who seemed to appreciate the opportunity to express their creativity and develop their imaginations. But what weighed heaviest on Kathy was the lack of opportunity to do what she does best, and what she was recruited for by the Peace Corps; train teachers. She came to realize that this was not going to be possible.

So with that realization, and facing yet another medical evacuation to Australia to take care of an important but relatively easy-to-fix problem, she has ended her Peace Corps service and returned to the United States, where she is enjoying winter weather and figuring out what is next for her.

So here at Tonga Tangos, we'll be reluctantly losing Kathy's involvement in our blog. In case you are wondering our relationship is fine, we're not separating, and I have to say we miss each other quite a bit. But we are able to text chat most every day using Skype of Facebook, staying connected with each other's daily activities.

I'm continuing to work at my little university to see what kind of transformation may be possible in the wake of the founder's death last year. His children have inherited the university and not much else; the management model – autocracy – that has been the norm for the school's first 35 years is ill-suited to its current needs, and many of the potential supporters – former students and alumnae – have not been courted and some have been alienated. Time will tell; this is our week to register students and prepare for classes to begin next week, so we'll have a good idea of what 2011 holds in store very shortly.

"Strange fascination fascinating me, Ah, changes are taking the pace I'm going through.Time may change me, but I can't trace time." (with apologies to David Bowie)

From December 21 (our thirteenth wedding anniversary) through January 8 we car-toured on the South Island of New Zealand. (A Picasa photo album has many more photos; click the link on the left.) An 18 day odyssey that encompassed not only our anniversary, but Christmas, New Year's and Rob's 64th birthday.

We were blessed with a good look at the lunar eclipse from the balcony of our room at the YMCA, and after a day of shopping and sightseeing headed South to Lake Tekapo.

Lake Tekapo has the Church of the Good Shepherd, tastefully decorated for Christmas with paper peace doves and pine cones. The view of the lake over the altar is spectacular.

On to Mt. Cook for Christmas. We joined an avid group of carolers in the lobby of the Hermitage on Christmas Eve, and were treated to a spectacular look at Aoraki from our hotel room window on Christmas Day.

We worked our way South over the next few days to Te Anau, where we connected with our overnight cruise to the magnificent Doubtful Sound. We were lucky to have a little bit of all the weather Fiordland is famous for; rain, wind, mist, and even some sun.

After an overnight to Stewart Island for New Year's Eve (see my last blog post) and hiking on Ulva Island and Horseshoe Point, we worked our way up the Catlins coast to Dunedin. Lighthouses, waterfalls, and more, including the Southernmost point on the South Island.

A few nights in Dunedin, with a full day of sightseeing, including a long stroll through the Botanical garden, where summer flowers were in full bloom.

Our last days included stops in Oamaru to visit the wonderfly kitschy galleries in the Victorian Precinct, and then a night in Timaru to check out the Caroline Bay Festival, a two week celebration of Christmas and summer complete with carnival and entertainment. Our evening there was rainy, however, so there wasn't much festival to see.

Our journey ended where it began in Christchurch, with a stay at my old favorite, the Windsor, still pretty much the same as when I first stayed there in 1992. Scaffolding on several walls attest to earthquake damage, mostly from several chimneys that toppled and damaged parapets.

A stage production of "Cabaret" at the Arts Center was the highlight of our final days, an energetic, sexy, and disturbing romp through the decadent side of Berlin in the 1930s. The cast, in character as performers at the notorious Kit Kat Club, mingled with the audience as we arrived and made us into their accomplices. A thoroughly entertaining evening.

As we said goodbye to New Zealand we visited our old friend the blind pilgrim to reflect on our return to Tonga. What are we in for next?

We've been traveling in New Zealand for the holidays, and we came across this prescription for a great New Year's Eve party.

1. Find a nice little community, preferably on the water on a pretty island, one like Oban on Stewart Island.

2. Have at hand a big pub/restaurant with ample food and drink.

3. Mix in a local band that can play a little bit of everything and put them up on the balcony overlooking the beach.

4. Let this brew simmer; no need to add any extra ingredients.

5. Build a great big bonfire on the beach and light it off after sunset.

6. At midnight, finish it off with everyone singing "Auld Lang Syne" at the top of their lungs.

7. Enjoy the afterglow!

Oh yes: don't forget to bribe Mother Nature to provide pleasant weather, especially when it has rained most of the day.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Rob & Kathy

Peace Corps Tonga has just sworn in its 76th group of volunteers. 26 bright shining faces have joined the ranks that have served the Kingdom over the past 43 years. We celebrated with them yesterday as they completed their 2 ½ months of training with a lovely ceremony here in Nuku'alofa. It is with hope and enthusiasm that we say “hello” to our new compatriots.

Arrivals and departures are a hallmark of Peace Corps service. Just over a year ago we said goodbye to family, friends, jobs, communities—our life in the States—to say hello to our new life as PCVs in Tonga. Our first hellos were to our fellow Group 75 trainees in Los Angeles, followed in a few days by hellos to the Peace Corps staff who support us, and to some of the Group 73 volunteers we would soon be replacing. These hellos soon became goodbyes as these folks completed their service and left before we really had much of a chance to get to know them.

As we settled into our sites and began our work assignments, we started to get to know our Group 74 colleagues who were beginning their second year of service. As we served alongside these folks, we gained respect and appreciation for the work they were doing and became good friends with a few. Over the past few weeks we have been saying goodbye to these friends as they completed their service. It's been especially hard to say goodbye to our closest Group 74 friends and neighbors, Melanie and Eric.

We met Melanie and Eric when they were relocated from an outer island in Ha'apai to Nuku'alofa (see previous post). They moved into a house near us, and since then we've shared many meals, trips to the beach, and long conversations together. As primary teachers Kathy and Melanie are kindred spirits, and Eric and I provided each other with motivation for our early morning work-outs: getting up at 5:30 a.m. and going to the gym 3 times a week. Our first trip to Pangaimotu was a result of their encouragement, and, again, with their encouragement, we even ventured out to the infamous Billfish nightclub.

On the day of their departure from the Kingdom, Kathy wrote the following “Ode to Melanie.”The past few days have felt like Christmas at our house as our PC colleagues, neighbors and friends, Melanie and Eric, have undertaken final preparations for departure. But rather than Worcestershire sauce, a Christmas tree, myriad art supplies, camp chairs, or even Nestle's semi-sweet chocolate morsels, I'd still rather have Melanie.

I met Melanie about 10 months ago when she and Eric wer moved from their outer island site to the main island of Tongatapu. And, while she and Eric were devastated about having to leave their small island where they were happy, fully invested, and looking forward to a successful second year, they approached their new assignments with the “can do” spirit typical of their upper midwest upbringing.

Melanie, in her assignment as an English teacher at a nearby primary school, once again took an empty concrete block room and turned it into a haven for children's academic and expressive pursuits. As time passed, the children came to know and trust that their thoughts and opinions would be respected, their work products valued, and they would be free from harm. They were safe to explore and create when in Melanie's environs.

For Melanie and Eric, Peace Corps was always about service. Melanie shared with me a mantra that she had adopted when faced with yet another Tongan conundrum: “I'm doin' it for Jesus.” This statement, in its simplicity, sums up Melanie's motivation. Her service to the people of Tonga was completely selfless; her service originated in a deep and profound love for people, all people, and her love of God.

Melanie, while young chronologically speaking, is wise beyond her years. With a journalism background, she took on the challenge of teaching with an open mind and open heart. When faced with the rote recitation methodology prevalent in the Tongan education system, her heart and mind, rather than an educational philosophy supported by a teaching credential or degree, told her to pursue a more reasoned and reasonable approach. As a result Melanie implemented an intact and sound pedagogy. She is a gifted natural educator.

I have great respect for Melanie and I value the few months I was fortunate enough to spend time with her. Her optimism and enthusiasm are boundless. She truly exemplifies the adage that “hope springs eternal.” Her heart for service, giving all of herself to the people of Tonga, continues to inspire me. Her passion and patience left friendships and a legacy that will long be remembered.

As dozens of people lined up to throw good bye parties, bestow blessings, and shower gifts on Melanie and Eric I chose to express my heartfelt sadness by writing this “Ode to Melanie.” Thank you, Melanie, for shining your light so brightly in my life. I really would rather have you than Nestle's semi-sweet chocolate morsels.

So as Eric and Melanie are adjusting to their new lives back home in the frigid Mid-West, we are beginning some fine new friendships with volunteers from Group 76 and looking forward to our week of training next month which will reunite us with our Group 75 colleagues from the other islands. Once again, we'll be saying hello and then good-bye again as we go our respective ways to begin our second year of service. And then next October, it will be hello to Group 77 as we prepare our good-byes to Tonga.

This week there are competing claims from the two major factions elected to Tonga's Parliament regarding the election of the next Prime Minister. Neither the nine nobles nor the 12 Friendly Island Democratic Party people's representatives have enough seats to control the decision, leaving the election up to the five “independent” people's representatives.

The online magazine Matangi Tonga reports that a bloc of 15 members, which includes the nine nobles, have agreed on one candidate. While no one is willing to state who that candidate is, speculation is that the nomination is for the noble Tu'ivakano, currently the interim Minister of Training, Education, Youth and Sports. http://www.matangitonga.to/article/tonganews/politics/20101208_tonga_pm_nomination.shtml

Meanwhile, Radio New Zealand is reporting that the leader of the Friendly Islands Democratic Party, Akilisi Pohiva, remains confident that it will form the government, claiming that he should have 15 votes. http://www.rnzi.com/pages/news.php?op=read&id=57590

All this speculation will end soon, as the Interim Speaker is scheduled to receive formal nominations next Thursday, with Parliament due to sit the next day to begin the process to finally elect a Prime Minister.

Stay tuned.

38,474 Tongan citizens—fully 90% of the those registered-- came out to vote last Thursday. And while the big winner was the Friendly Islands Democratic Party (FIDP), which won 12 of the 17 popularly elected seats for the next Parliament, it fell two seats short of capturing a majority of the 26 total number of seats.

Nine nobles were elected by their peers, and together with the five “independent” people's representatives the majority of the new Parliament will not be affiliated with any one party.

No women were elected (eleven were candidates) despite “women's issues” being one of the bigger issues in the campaign. Women are prohibited from owning land, and domestic violence has recently become a front burner issue in Tonga. Women are also prohibited from inheriting noble titles, making the nobles' election an exclusively male business.

The Friendly Islands Democratic Party is led by 'Akilisi Pohiva, long-time leader of the pro-democracy movement in Tonga and currently the longest serving member of Parliament. But nine of the 12 elected from his group are new to Parliament, and three have no experience at all in in civil service. And only two won more than 50% of the vote in their electorate, as most districts had multiple candidates. On the other hand, the five independent people's representatives are experienced in government; several have headed ministries in the recent past.

The first order of business for the new Parliament is to elect a Prime Minister. While the King and several nobles are advocating for a commoner to be elected, this sentiment is not shared by all. While Pohiva has openly lobbied for the post, the prevailing sentiment is that none of the nobles would vote for him. So with all of the ministry heads also to be appointed, most of whom will be members of Parliament, there is plenty of room for negotiation. It appears the five independent people's representatives will determine whether the nobles block or the FIDP block will prevail.

During the campaign most of the successful candidates focused on the need for the new government to conduct the country's business with honesty and integrity, as it is widely perceived that the current government is corrupt and inefficient. An opinion poll focused on issues reported that only 41% believe the country is “headed in the right direction,” and the most important issue by far was “growing the economy.”

In the weeks just before the election there were reports of vote buying and candidate defamation; a police officer was investigated for actively campaigning for a candidate; and two candidates' names were struck from the ballot because of court orders to pay debts. One candidate campaigned to legalize marijuana, and another advocated that Tonga declare itself to be a “welfare state” (neither won).

The earliest anyone expects a Prime Minister to be elected is Christmas, and it is more likely to be in early January. In the meantime the most interesting politicing is now taking place behind closed doors. It will be most interesting to see what results.

Tonga is just two days away from the historic election which will provide the country with a Parliament that has a majority of domocratically elected members. It's been a long time coming.

For an excellent overview of what the election means please go to my friend Elena's blog here:

http://mk-squared.blogspot.com/2010/11/tongan-politics-in-pictures.html.

She has created some great visuals to illustrate the changes that are being made, and there's no way I could say it better.

Matangi Tonga, the online newspaper, has also just published a great article with good information about how the election will be conducted. All of the 17 districts have multiple candidates running and its anyone's guess who will win, but in every case it will be the top vote getter, meaning someone with as little as 20% of the vote in a district with eight or nine candidates could be elected.

http://www.matangitonga.to/article/tonganews/parliament/20101116_tonga_election.shtml

Tonga does not have political parties, but some candidates have created coalitions. The pro-democracy coalition attempted to field candidates for each of the districts, but the last I heard 2 had been dismissed from the coalition because of pending domestic violence charges, and another for some other reason. There is a loose coalition focusing on women's issues (women cannot own land) and domestic violence. One candidate is advocating legalizing marijuana.

As everywhere, campaigning consists of all manner of signs, from the handmade to the elaborate. Enjoy this collection of signs around our neighborhood in Nuku'alofa. I'll write another post about the results next week.

'Atenisi University (where I work as an Economics instructor and librarian) has a tradition of hosting occasional evening lectures by people with something compelling to talk about. Recently we had the great pleasure of hearing Dr. Eric Shumway, currently the head of the Mormon Mission to Tonga, reflect on his 50 year love affair with the Kingdom, which began when he was assigned here as a young missionary. He quickly became fluent in the Tongan language, and most of us in the Peace Corps know him because of the excellent Tongan language course he developed; he was the first language trainer Peace Corps Tonga used way back in 1967.

Most significantly Dr. Shumway has developed a profound appreciation for the Tongan culture and the values it supports. He presented as clear an understanding of these values as I have heard, and I'd like to share some of what he said.

The young missionary was first assigned to a remote village, “trapped in an alien, hostile environment” and told not to leave the village until he was fluent in Tongan. Suffering from culture shock and a “cold despair” he was eventually saved by the “immense friendliness of the Tongan people.” One of his first lessons from his Tongan teachers was about four behaviors “essential to your happiness and your effectiveness” as someone wanting to “be Tongan.” These are:“First, Kai pō is forbidden. Kai pō, (eating at night or in the dark or on the sly, without sharing) is a serious offence in Tonga, sometimes generating negative reactions, even scandal. Kai pō is the metaphor for and the embodiment of selfishness. You must not only share, but share your best. You seek the interest of others first. The second essential behavior. “Oua ‘e kai filifili.” Don’t be picky about the food that is offered you. Learn to eat everything with relish. Gratefully take advantage of every love offering.The third principle – ‘Oua ‘e mohe ‘uli, don’t sleep dirty, bathe before you sleep. This motherly counsel caught me off guard but then I remembered that most of the palangi coming to Tonga over the years, especially in the earlier days, came from cold climates where a once a week bath was the norm. Obviously, a once only a week bath in Tonga could create unfortunate social consequences. I took the counsel as hygienic. Stay healthy! The fourth behavior was to become fluent in the language of expressing gratitude; “Koe koloa ‘a Tonga koe fakamālō: Saying thank you is the real wealth of a Tongan, and accepting the thanks of others as sufficient “payment” for any kind service on your part.”Dr. Shumway's talk was filled with good stories of his personal experiences and appreciations for the Tongan “generosity of soul.” A well known public example of this is the story of Queen Salote at the the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II which he related this way: “Another aspect of generosity of soul is the reverence with which one subordinates one’s own needs to the comforts and convenience of another, particularly a person considered to be of rank or importance. Queen Sālote of Tonga manifested this trait in 1953 at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in London. As with many monarchs and heads of state, she participated in the coronation ceremonies, including the grand procession of royalty. It was a cold, gloomy day. Tens of thousands of excited spectators stood in the rain along the procession route to catch a glimpse of all their majesties from around the world. Unfortunately the steady drizzle had forced the royal entourage in the procession to seek cover by bringing up and securing the hoods of their carriages. In so doing they became virtually invisible to the public view – not so with Queen Salote of Tonga. She refused to cover up but rather rode in full view of spectators. Though completely wet, she smiled and waved to the adoring crowd, who responded with loud applause. Newspapers, radio, and television stations praised the radiant Tongan queen for her deeply moving regard for the British queen and her people. She later recorded her feelings saying: “'I was so caught up in the warmth of the people and the feelings of grace flooding my heart from the recent ceremony that I could not bear to be excluded from any part of that day, good and bad. …….I just suddenly got the feeling that I wanted to join the people in the happiness of the day, and my Tongan heart was excited and foolish. But I am still thankful that I was soaked with rain on that significant day …. I did not notice what others were doing: I was too busy doing what I thought I should do … whether I was noticed or not. I was only happy because of the … warmth that the people felt for their sovereign.'” “The media heralded Queen Sālote’s action in the most laudatory terms, but she deflected the praise by suggesting that in the Tongan way of life it is impossible to seek one’s own comfort if it would disappoint or discomfort someone else.”

He elaborates further: “This generosity is part of the traditional attributes of a True Tongan that every preacher, poet, and chief’s spokesmen or matapule articulates and sings about, the five golden badges/sashes of a true Tongan or āfei koula:” These are:'ofa – or loveFaka'apa'apa – Respect and reverence; Tauhi va – maintaining warm relationships and social obligations; mamahi'i me'a – loyalty and passionate commitment; and loto-to – humility and a ready and willing heart.

“As a foreigner wanting to be Tongan, especially on the eve of the transfer of political power, I am going to indulge in a bit of fie poto and suggest a 6th āfei koula – namely fai totonu. For without fai totonu – that is, honest, integrity, and doing what is right, fair, and just – then all the other virtues or āfei koula are corruptible.” Love can become favoritism, respect can morph into mere flattery, and maintaining relationships may result in maintaining only those relationships that can provide advantage. Loyalty and commitment can result in excitability and being carried away by emotion. He proposes a sixth virtue: fai totonu. “Fai totonu holds on to the purity of these Tongan virtues, unites them as one golden set and protects them from corruption. Fai totonu is the shield and protection against kaipō – in its many forms of consuming or controlling selfishness, ignoring the needs and desires of others.”

In our experience here we have experienced many instances where these virtues have been expressed, such as when a neighbor comes to our door with big plate of food from their Sunday umu, how the school children who are fortunate enough to bring a lunch to school readily share with those who did not. And we have also seen the corrupted versions he talks about. For example it's not unusual for food to be prepared when an official from a government ministry or the head office of the church plans an official visit. This is nominally done out of respect, in humility, and to express sociability in adherance to these virtues, but in reality the practice has become institutionalized; the food is expected, and the official may simply load the food into the car without accepting the hospitality involved with sharing.

He concluded by describing an encounter with an old friend as he arrived in Tonga three years ago on this assignment as President and Matron of the Tonga Temple (for many years he was President of BYU/Hawaii). His old friend “was the embodiment of the āfei koula virtues of Tonga. He was a great chief, a district officer, a loving nature, a devoted subject, a deeply religious person and member of the United Free Wesleyan Church. He is featured in one of my documentaries on Tonga Culture. I greeted my venerable friend affectionately and asked him off-handedly: 'Siaosi, how is our country?' I was surprised at his answer and the emotion with which he gave it. 'Well,' he said 'We all still go to Church, we still sing to the high heaven, we still say our Amens to the prayers, but with regard to fai totonu, (that is honesty, integrity, and doing right guided by a sense of justice) – we are empty as a people.'”

“How often have I heard the prayer that the impending changes to our political system would somehow restore and reaffirm fai totonu in government – But we the people are the government. And the question remains how do we get the āfei koula off our shoulders and our chests and into our hearts – How do we anga ’aki these virtues, so that they are not just decorations or badges of a false honor and an empty rhetoric, but real qualities of heart and soul?”

I came to Tonga to gain perspective from a different culture to help me better understand my own. As a citizen and product of the most consumption oriented culture ever, I am constantly challenged personally and in my teaching to understand and appreciate the Tongan generosity of spirit, in its pure as well as its corrupted expressions. It appears to be a challenge for many Tongans as well. A recent story in the English language newspaper profiled one of the candidates for parliament who has visited each household in his district in the last month. He expected the topmost concern of villagers to be reviving the economy. But these are people for whom a consumer culture is relatively new, who don't really understand globalisation and are not so sure it is the best future for Tonga. “What kept coming back to me, from rich and poor, from old and young, was that people just wanted their new government to be faitotonu—to just do the right thing, be honest with them, not corrupt.”

A worthy wish for any government. Thank you, Dr. Shumway.

MV Otuanga'Ofa, MV Ajang Subuh, MV Pulupaki @ Queen Salote Wharf

The big event in Tonga this week was the arrival of the long-awaited MV Otuanga'ofa, the new passenger and freight ferry built by Japan to meet Tonga's critical need for reliable transport between its far flung islands. It was greeted Friday afternoon (October 15) by an ad hoc flotilla and escorted to a berth at Nuku'alofa's Queen Salote wharf. This ship was originally commissioned in 2005 when the Tongan government realized that the MV Olovaha, its workhorse ferry since 1981, was at the end of its useful life. Since then construction delays (which have been blamed on the operator of the competing private ferry, the MV Pulupaki, who is also a member of Tonga's parliament) and the resulting ill-advised purchase and subsequent sinking tragedy of the MV Princess Ashika have underscored the urgent need for the new ship.

Tonga's only port usable by freighters is here in Nuku'alofa. Most freight and all passengers wishing to travel to the other major islands and a few smaller islands rely on ferries. The Shipping Corporation of Polynesia, the government owned operator of the Olovaha, has provided the bulk of the freight service, but because the Olovaha was slow, uncomfortable and reportedly "bobbed like a cork" most passengers preferred to ride the MV Pulupaki, operated privately by Uata Shipping.

The Olovaha was damaged in a hurricane in 2003 and required major repairs. Since then her operation became increasingly problematic, and in 2005 the government began planning for her replacement. The government of Japan offered assistance, and planning for the construction of the Otuanga'ofa began. The Olovaha was finally removed from service in late 2008. She has sat in port since then and is slowly being dismantled for scrap.

The government then began its search for a temporary replacement and ended up purchasing the ill-fated Princess Ashika. After serving less than a month it sank in August, 2009 taking 74 passengers with it to a watery grave (see previous post: "Remembering August 5").

Since that time until just a few months ago the only ferry service has been provided by the MV Pulupaki, but its service has also been plagued by seaworthiness issues. Last Christmas it was ordered berthed after a marine survey indicated the need for repair. So for several months there was no freight and passenger service except for the airline service provided by Chathams Pacific. Outer islands had to scramble for ways to get needed provisions students were late getting back to their schools on Tongatapu after the summer break. No one knew for sure when the Pulupaki would return to service, but she was suddenly determined to be fit for service after her owners defied government detainment orders. In the meantime the Peace Corps reassigned five volunteers serving on outer islands, whose only transportation at the time was the Pulupaki, for safety reasons.

Meanwhile the government continued its search for a temporary replacement for the Olovaha, finally finding a new Indonesian ship, the MV Ajang Subuh, which it was able to lease for a year. With financial `help from Australia and New Zealand, the Ajang Subuh arrived in Tonga in April and began service in May. With a capacity of only 70 passengers and 200 tons of cargo it has been only a stop gap measure. But since many Tongans refuse to ride on it (remembering the government told them the Ashika was safe, too) it has served very nicely.

Which brings us to the long anticipated arrival of the Otuanga'ofa, which will carry 400 passengers, 400 tonnes of cargo, and promises to be the reliable transportation option the country has sorely needed. Dock upgrades are in process in all her ports of call, but the government is still looking for an operator. If interested contact the Ministry of Transportation ASAP!.

Faithful readers: We are welcoming a new group of volunteers in about a month. Thinking back to one year ago when Kathy and I were in the same situation I decided to write a bit about what I've learned since then as sort of a high-level overview with them in mind. However, I think you'll enjoy it as well.

So Welcome Peace Corps Tonga Group 76 to the Kingdom! Here's a bit of perspective from someone with all of one year of experience here, so keep that in mind as you file this with everything else you may be learning.

The Kingdom of Tonga has entered the wider world's awareness only in the last 200 or so years, just a few grains in the great sand clock of civilization. Today I was showing my Economics classes a video about why geography was largely responsible for creating the conditions that led to the development of the great industrial nations. Of course, virtually none of those conditions exist in this tropical island country, a geographically dispersed collection of really small islands with little to offer the rest of the world. So little that no Western powers were all that interested in colonizing it; consequently it has more or less stumbled into the inevitable globalising process by itself.

We Americans are a very diverse bunch, from a multitude of different cultures with a plethora of ethnic and racial identities all of which shapes who we are as individuals. For the most part we are very accepting of our differences and hold no particular common values around culture and ceremony (although we all stand for the National Anthem at ball games.)

Tongans, in stark contrast, are a very homogenous people. They share an ethnic identity and a complex set of common social and cultural traditions that we Americans have some trouble comprehending. Social norms and rules of behavior are very well defined and ongoing compliance is expected. It is, as you have no doubt read, a hierarchical society, with the King at the top and various strata of royalty and nobility above the common folk. It is helpful to understand that it wasn't until late in the 19th century that commoners were declared to be full citizens by King George Tupou I. Until then their ongoing right to live was at the pleasure of the entitled nobility.

The royals and nobles have a very complicated set of traditions, relationships, and hierarchies that you will never begin to understand. They have responsibilities to look after the welfare of the commoners, just as the commoners have responsibilities to supply them with food and gifts. It's all very complicated and you will want to try to figure it out, especially if you are assigned to a smaller village, but don't expect that anyone will really be able to explain it to you.

This fairly rigid set of norms and traditions has served the nation very well for centuries. As long as Tonga was a subsistence economy with limited contact with the rest of the world this colorful fabric of culture provided meaning, spice, and a sense of order to everyday life. You will, no doubt, get to expeience the dances, costumes, feasts, and singing that come from these traditions. The country did quite well in providing the basic necessities of life.

But the rest of the world has encroached, first with the missionaries who converted King George Tupou I and, consequently, everyone else, to a brand of Wesleyan Methodism, and then later with those seeking markets for manufactured goods and processed foods, many of which made life easier (such as bicycles, ready-to-wear clothing, tools and building materials) and many of which have created a whole host of problems (junk food and its wrappings most notably). Radios, TVs and DVDs, and now computers and the internet have brought the rest of the world smack dab into the midst of all this tradition. And created a mountain of e-waste in the process.

Tonga is having trouble figuring all this out. A traditional culture based on an unchanging subsistence way of life trying to preserve traditional values facing up to appetites whetted for consumer goods and the ubiquitous MTV culture. It is a transition fraught with danger and confusion. You will especially see this in the young adults who are trying to figure out where they fit with all this change.

The current great unknown is how the government and the country is going to make the transition to a more democratic form of governance after elections this Fall create a legislature with a majority of elected members (until now the majority has been nobles appointed by the King.) So you will have the opportunity to experience this first hand. Your timing is great!

On to more mundane matters. Bring stuff that is important to you; we were really glad we brought our big non-stick skillet, our pillows and a nice set of sheets, and our French press coffee maker. We wish we would have brought a good knife sharpener. I haven't even unpacked most of the shirts I brought from home, and have worn the long pants only when I've traveled outside the country (except for one pair of jeans I've worn a few times at night). Bring your snorkel and mask and take them to your training in Ha'apai. Think seriously about bringing your serviceable mountain or cross bike; while you might get lucky here and find a good used bike to buy, the Chinese bikes sold by stores are of poor quality.

They say the day begins in Tonga, and we look forward to meeting you as your new life in Tonga begins on October 7.

It's the middle of August and we're nearing the end of Term Three. This is significant because of the Secondary Entrance Exams (SEE) which will take place in early October, shortly after Term 4 begins, and are the END ALL AND BE ALL in the Tongan Education system. Class Six students basically chart their future for life with the scores they receive on these tests. Class Six teachers and students are in an absolute FRENZY of preparation--giving and taking exams/sivi every single day from 7:00 a.m., when the school day begins, until 5:00 p.m., when it ends.

My part in the preparations? I decided to make playdough.

As a lifelong educator, I am keenly aware of the value of playdough as an instructional tool. I have used playdough with learners of all ages, from preschoolers to adults and am certain that it contains not only flour, salt, and water, but a healthy dose of magic, as well. I recently had an opportunity to introduce the Tongan education system to the magic of playdough.

A week or so ago, I was informed that my “program” for the following day would have to be cancelled due to the fact that the Class Six students would be away from school for the entire day on a field trip (this is my terminology, the Tongans don’t really have a word for field trip). After much more enquiry on my part, I discovered that the students would be participating in a daylong celebration of culture, Kava Kuo Heka (Literally, this means kava, the national drink made from the root of the pepper plant, now and always rides), sponsored by the Ministry of Education. The celebration was to include demonstrations of traditional crafts, talks, video presentations, and an art show. I decided to tag along.

The day of the field trip, I was again reminded that, “You’re not in Kansas, any more, Toto.” The boys all assembled at the given time and marched off up the street, a trek of about a mile. I began to ready myself for departure, but when I looked outside, I noticed that all the Class Six girls were still playing on the playground. When I asked what was going on, I was informed that it was too far for the girls to walk so transport was arranged using one of the Class Six teacher’s vehicles, a small Toyota-style pick-up. The pick-up pulled onto the playground, about 20 girls piled into the back, and the teacher drove off, emptied the pick-up at the destination, and then returned for another load. I decided to walk.

Once at the convention center, the children, teachers, and I were treated to an incredible display of art by Tongan artists. The display included wood carvings, clay bowls, glass sculptures, paintings, stone and wooden sculptures, clothing made from bark cloth, fiber arts, photography, tapa (bark) cloth, weavings, and even a demonstration by a tattoo artist (a traditional art form that was stamped out of existence by the missionaries). The various artists served as docents, patiently describing the plethora of art to small groups of children. I was enthralled.

As I observed the children’s awe and wonder, I became convinced that it was important for them to have an opportunity to respond to this experience in some authentic and meaningful way. I began taking a mental inventory of my stash of art supplies—nope, I didn’t have anything in a large enough quantity to meet the demand of over 120 students. Financially, I just couldn’t afford to purchase paints or paint brushes. I didn’t know of any reasonable source for art materials. Finally, the idea of playdough came to mind. One of the docents had introduced the children to the word and concept of sculpture, shaping or molding a media into a form/figure. Playdough would provide them with an opportunity to mold, shape, and physically experience the material, while allowing them to have a creative experience, trying on the idea of being an artist.

The next day, armed with flour/mahoa’a and salt/masima, bowls, measuring cups, and a recipe for uncooked playdough I had received from a Peace Corps colleague, I took the plunge. Remember, Tongan students are not EVER allowed to explore or experiment with materials. Every aspect of the curriculum and each school day is carefully scripted. The students are seldom allowed out of their assigned seats and are never encouraged to express themselves creatively. In this kind of setting, it is a bit daunting to introduce a full-on “messy art” activity; the results could be disastrous. But, that’s never stopped me before.

I set the stage, eliciting from them responses to the art gallery visit. I asked them for their favorite pieces of art, recalling some of the terms introduced by the docents. We created a list of the images they had seen depicted in art, including the ancient pagan Tongan gods, war clubs, the Ha’amonga, a trillithon (stone structure) located on the main island, and even the Tu’i Malila, a Madagascan turtle that had been a gift to the first Tu’i Tonga (now stuffed and displayed in a glass case).

I then divided each class into groups, gave each group the required materials needed to make playdough, and had them set to work. The only rule: the flour must stay INSIDE the bowl. The students mixed their dough with great care and seriousness. Some groups ended up with dough that was a bit too sticky. No problem, just add a bit more flour. Once the dough was mixed, I told them to count the number of people in their group and divide the dough evenly amongst the members. Some groups did better than others at this task…but I was committed to providing them with a real world application of the math concept of fractions as equal parts of the whole.

Once each child had his/her own lump of clay/dough, the work of creative expression began. During this time, I emphasized the importance of the process, working with the material, and experimenting with various shapes/techniques. I also emphasized the individuality of creative expression.

As our class time drew to a close, I provided each child with a “base” (piece of cardboard) to mount his/her piece of art. I asked each child to put his/her name on the base, along with the title for the piece of art. I then had them carry their pieces of art to the library, which was transformed into an art gallery, exhibiting GPS Nuku’alofa students’ work.

There are days when, as an educator, you just know deep down in your soul that you’ve done a good thing. This was one of those days. Feeling pretty good about myself, I left school on Friday afternoon, looking forward to a long weekend.

Do you know what happens to playdough in a humid, tropical environment? Well, I didn’t either. When I returned on Monday, after a rainy three day weekend, I found the playdough sculptures sagging, melting, and seeping into the bookshelves and display cases. Evidently, since playdough contains so much salt, it soaks up moisture from the environment, resulting in a soggy, doughy, gooey mess. Hmmm, what to do?

I know what the Tongan teachers would have done…because several of them suggested that I dump the blobs of goo in the garbage. But, again, I’m committed to providing the children with opportunities for choice and decision making. And, since the pieces of art were the children’s own creations, shouldn’t they be allowed to determine what happens to their art? So, for the past week, I have invited the children into the “gallery” in groups of two or three, explained to them what happens to sculptures made of clay/playdough in humid environments, and allowed them to make the choice: garbage or squish up the goo into a ball, add some more flour, and return to the drawing board…or pottery wheel, as the case may be. So far, they have all chosen to retain ownership… providing for more creative expression. I noticed a few of the more athletic boys experimenting with the dough’s adhesive capacity as they threw it against the cement block walls of the school. Some of the girls achieved vibrantly colored dough by using the ink in their pens as coloring agents, infusing the playdough with indigo blue, inky black, emerald green, or cardinal red.

I have also discovered that the dough is everywhere. Class One children show up in the library carrying their treasured lumps of dough. Class Five girls are making batches of playdough at home, bringing it to school to share with their friends. Class Four children are making pen holders out of playdough. That’s the thing about magic—it’s contagious.

Our friend and Peace Corps colleague Melanie has graciously permitted us to post her moving account of the impact of the sinking of the Princess Ashika ferry on the small village where she and her husband Eric were serving at the time. As background to her story, this week marked the anniversary of the sinking of the Princess Ashika, a tragedy that claimed 74 lives. A special commission was appointed to review the circumstances which led to the tragedy which found that the Princess Ashika was an old “rust bucket” and not seaworthy when it was purchased by the Tongan government a few months prior to the sinking. Trials begin next month of five individuals who are accused of approving the purchase and operation of an obviously unsafe ship.

The one year anniversary of the sinking was not commemorated in any way by the government.

Here is Melanie’s story:

“REMEMBERING AUGUST 5”

“On August 5 it will be one year since the Tongan government’s “new” passenger boat, the Princess Ashika, sank, killing some 74 people. Six of them were from our tiny village, Ha’afeva. The boat sank in the middle of the night on its way to our island. The survivors say it had been leaning on its side for two hours before it sank. It took only two minutes for the Ashika and most of the passengers to disappear under the water. The survivors were left floating in the dark. They sat waiting in lifeboats for three hours before they were rescued.

That next morning Eric and I were getting ready for school when a faifekau (minister) came to our house. He told us in Tongan that the boat sank. That was all he said. I was confused and didn’t know if I heard him correctly. I immediately thought of our school’s principal, Saia. He was on that boat. He, along with two other dads and the youth president, had gone to Nuku’alofa to buy supplies for a new school roof. They should have returned around two that morning.

I left for school right away and on my walk I didn’t see any of the usual neighbors sitting outside. The first person I saw was seven year old ‘Olivia. As Peace Corps Volunteers, most of us are lucky enough to get our own “family” in our villages. ‘Olivia’s family was ours. We spent most Sundays going to their church where the congregation consisted of their family and us. ‘Olivia’s parents Piutau and Halani spoke little English, but they tried so hard to include us. They would sing the same few English songs over and over each Sunday and try to incorporate every English word they knew into the sermon.

‘Olivia’s dad Piutau was on that boat. Olivia started telling me lots of people had probably died, including a baby from our island. She told me she wasn’t worried about her dad. She thought he would probably be coming home later that day. He was bringing her apples and candy from Nuku’alofa. I didn’t know what to tell her, so I asked her if she wanted us to pray for him. She told me she already had.

When we got to school the kids came plowing towards us, yelling everything they had heard. I learned new words that morning. The words for “lost” and “sunk” would now be a part of my vocabulary. The words for “dead” and “dead baby” and “sad” would be repeated over and over for weeks. School started like it always does, with a prayer. But that day, 37 children were praying for their families and friend’s families to come back home.

The school day went on. At eleven we all gathered for a news report on the radio. It told us nothing. At 12:30 it was lunchtime. More than ten hours had passed since the boat should have stopped in Ha’afeva. A group of kids and I started walking from the school when all of a sudden they started screaming “vaka! vaka!” and went running towards the beach. I didn’t even hear anything but by the time I got to the beach, a small boat was pulling away. I had no idea what was going on. Then I saw a group of people walking down the road towards us.

When two or more Tongans get together it’s noisy with laughter or singing. But I remember it being so quiet. There was no sound. As the group came closer, we could hear crying. The nurse, Fusi, was holding up one of the youth who was leaning on her shoulder, sobbing. He had just learned his sister died along with her husband and their first child, their newborn baby. They had gone to Nuku’alofa to have the baby and were returning home. I saw Siaosi, a giant athletic man and father of five young kids at our school. He’d been on the boat to help bring back the materials for the roof. He was crying. He had survived, but we later learned that his mother was killed.

Then someone yelled my name and told me to look. There was my principal, walking towards us. I have great respect for Saia. He is a good man and a good dad. He is the world to his four year old daughter, Kepa. Her favorite thing to do is walk around the village holding his hand. I can’t even express how it felt to see Saia walking towards us. You see, this is how the village found out who survived and who didn’t. Those that made it were just dropped off and were now walking down the road. Saia came over with tears in his eyes and hugged me. I asked him where Piutau was. He just looked at me and then continued down the road.

A group formed behind the survivors and we followed them through town. For some reason it was so confusing and Eric and I didn’t completely understand what was happening. As we walked, we gradually started to hear wailing coming from the houses. One house at a time, the survivors were visiting the families of the dead, to tell them their loved ones did not make it.

By the time Eric and I got to Piutau’s house, Saia was already sitting on the floor across from Piutau’s wife, Halani. It wasn’t until that moment that we understood that Piutau was dead. ‘Olivia’s dad was gone.

Halani sat there on the floor, crying and rocking her three year old in her lap. Through his crying, Saia was telling Halani that when the boat tipped, Piutau had been outside, so he had been safe. But Siaosi’s mother was trapped inside the cabin. Piutau went inside to help her, and that’s where he died. Our island lost Piutau, a young 30‐something faifekau with the most beautiful big smile. His four kids would now have to grow up without him. One of the last things Piutau told Eric before he left to Nuku’alofa was “you are my friend.” The loss of Siaosi’s mother meant five kids from school lost their grandma. Ha’afeva also lost one youth and the young couple with their newborn baby. Our neighbor’s sister and her three children had been on

their way to Ha’afeva for a visit. All four were killed.

Ha’afeva has fewer than 300 people. Everyone knows everyone and most are related. These deaths affected everyone. And that was just Ha’afeva. Nearby islands suffered their own losses. A survivor from a nearby island was dropped on our island that morning. He sat on the beach and told how he had been riding the boat with his wife and his nine year old daughter. When the boat tipped, he was separated from them. He could hear them yelling. His wife yelling for him to leave them, they would die there. Through tears he also told of his daughter’s screams. Her screams for him to help her. She didn’t want to die in the dark.

Three days after the boat sank was a Sunday; the first without Piutau. That day in church, I stood in awe of Halani. Her world had come crashing down, but that morning she stood up front, looking up to the heavens, singing her heart out. She was crying, but she was praising. She has a mighty faith and she knows one day she’ll see Piutau again.

The black clothes will soon be coming off. It will be a year and not much has changed in these people’s lives. They are still riding the Pulupaki; a boat said to be less seaworthy than the Ashika. They don’t ride the temporary new boat. That’s the safe one, but I’m not sure they trust it. They were told the “new” Ashika was safe. As Peace Corps Volunteers, our voices are limited. We can’t fight the government, but we can share the stories of the people around us. Those people’s voices do go unheard and too often, they are forgotten. Let’s not forget them August 5.”

Postscript: Melanie and Eric had been serving Ha’afeva for about 9 months when the Ashika tragedy occurred, happily living the quintessential Peace Corps experience in a small village with no running water, electricity for a few hours each evening to power the single light bulb in their house, and little access to events in the outside world. The village was completely reliant on the ferry for transportation and supplies. When the second ferry, the Pulupaki, was also determined to be unseaworthy last December, Eric and Melanie and other volunteers on other outer islands were transferred to new assignments on Tongatapu. A few months later ferry service to the outer islands was restored after an Indonesian boat was rented thanks to Australia and New Zealand funding and repairs were made to the Pulapaki. A new ferry has been built in Japan and will be delivered once wharf facilities have been upgraded.

As I was walking home from my workout at the Teufaiva gym this morning the air had that clean feeling that comes after a rain shower. The sun was up; a few clouds mingled with the blue sky. It rained again just after I arrived home, just another brief shower coming out of nowhere, which seems to happen a lot in Tonga.

We’re back from our 12 day trip to New Zealand’s North Island, a comfortable reminder of our former life, and beginning the second half of the school year. The schools are back in session, but I have this week to prepare. The Tongan Winter is so much more pleasant than the summer; temperatures in the 70s most of the time, with some nighttime lows dipping into the 60s and even the 50s. A consistent breath of fresh air, and the odd day that does climb into the low 80s only stays there for a few hours.

Whatever “honeymoon” there may have been when we began our work here is long gone. Our experience this first five months of teaching has revealed that in our current assignments we will have little lasting impact on our Tongan colleagues or our schools. The integration into our various schools has revealed some stark realities of working here. The education system in Tonga, with it’s overarching emphasis on rote learning and knowing the “right answer” (rather than how to think) makes it very difficult to effectively engage students in a discovery learning process. A big surprise has been the behavior of many primary and secondary teachers. There is little discipline or accountability required of them; Many teachers often arrive well after the school day has begun and some frequently do not show up at all. Particularly vexing is arriving at school to find out some event or another (“Didn’t anyone tell you?”) has completely disrupted the schedule and put you another day behind.

Which is not to say that there aren’t many fine and dedicated teachers working in Tongan schools, women and men who can be counted on to be there every day, who will cover the absent teacher’s class whenever necessary without complaint, and who seem to respect the students as learners. These teachers are not responding to any external rewards or stimuli, they just seem to care more, particularly for the kids. However, it is “the Tongan way” to not complain about the inequities, and the absent and/or indifferent teachers’ jobs are not jeopardized.

As Kathy has so eloquently described in a previous post, it’s the children who are responding to our efforts and who will be the primary beneficiaries of our efforts, not the system. Especially at the primary school level they are a lot of fun and can be very responsive, but that frequently depends on how controlling their regular classroom teacher is, how much permission they feel they have to speak up, to be creative, to do something other than try to figure out what the “right answer” is.

It was eye-opening for me to come to the end of my first term with college students with the realization that I really hadn’t done much toward expanding my Economics students understanding of the world. The last few weeks were all about getting ready for the end of term exam, memorizing concepts to parrot back and then just as quickly forget. The few application questions I included and tried to prepare them for bombed. Time to rethink my approach.

When I taught Economics before, I could rely on my students possessing some basic knowledge and background experiences. They would have all held jobs and received a pay check, paid taxes, maybe lived on their own, held a driver’s license and owned a car and bought insurance. They would understand basic budgeting concepts. My Tongan students have none of these experiences. Most live at home or with a relative and have never worked for a wage or paid income taxes, Budgeting is a foreign concept. Given their life experiences and different methodology is necessary.

So this week I’m scratching my head and researching “critical thinking” materials and lesson plans in an effort to create a learning environment that will cut way back on how much economics content we will cover and focus more on developing some basic working understandings about the way the world—and Tonga in particular—works. Wish me luck, and I’ll keep you posted.

Kathy has been teaching her primary school kids about animal groups, and now they all know about how birds are vertebrates that have two legs, feathers, and can fly. Of course they learn that there are always exceptions, like chickens that are birds that don’t fly. (Then there are bats which do fly, but aren’t birds, but that’s another story.) Until I came to Tonga I had no trouble with this knowledge myself, but I have now witnessed several events of actual chickens flying. The most recent one almost caused me to crash.

I was riding along on my bicycle when a chicken started to run across the road in front of me. No big deal, chickens are everywhere, even in downtown Nuku'alofa. A car was coming along a bit too fast toward us, so the chicken flew up to avoid the car, but her timing was a bit off and she was hit by the car’s windshield. Feathers went flying, but most alarmingly the chicken was now hurtling out of control toward me. I ducked, managed to stay upright, and with racing heart got stopped safely. I don’t know the ultimate fate of the chicken from this encounter, but she did get herself up and run off. So you have it from me; Tonga chickens can fly, so be careful out there!

About the bats: early on in her experience at her school Kathy observed a teacher doing a lesson, in which she was talking about Tonga’s “flying fox,” a pretty good sized bat that we saw a lot of when we were in Ha’apai. The teacher was going on about the bat, and concluded by saying that because this creature can fly, and using big arm motions to demonstrate, categorically stated that therefore “A bat is a BIRD, because BIRDS can fly!” She then proceeded to have the children mimic her, flapping their arms, reciting “A bat is a Bird because Birds can fly!”

These sorts of situations in schools pose some tricky dilemmas. Many Tongan teachers are not particularly well educated, and there are tremendous gaps in their knowledge, particularly of geography and biology. (Segue: When Kathy and I were doing some of our initial research about Tonga before we came, we learned that the peka (the flying fox bat) and another smaller bat are the only mammals native to Tonga). And of course one cannot just jump in and try to correct them. Later on when Kathy was teaching about animal groups as part of her English lessons she taught the correct information in a very straight ahead, factual manner; the teacher was in the room during the lesson, and nothing further has been said.

The domestic animal life really is something here in the Kingdom. In our "city" neighborhood pigs are all around. Even though we have a fenced yard, there are several holes that a very young pig can get through, so we've had to do some chasing lately as we don't want them tearing up our our little bit of grass and molesting Kathy's newly planted vegetable garden. One of these little guys was killed by dogs who must have followed the pig through the hole into our back yard. Not a pretty sight. Dogs roam the neighborhood freely, and while they do have owners they are not kept as pets and are not well cared for. Not to mention that many Tongans think roast dog is quite a culinary treat. They can be a menace to bike riders as well as piglets, and I have been bit on the foot by a neighborhood pack that decided to chase me on my bike one day. And then, of course, the chickens. We don't mind them being in the yard because we have heard that they like to eat the giant stinging centipedes (molokaus) that occasionally come snaking into the house and scare the bejeezus out of us. And anyway, after all, what can you do when as we now all know "Chickens are Birds, and Birds can Fly!"

Welcome to our Saturday mornings in Nuku'alofa! It always involves a bicycle ride from our house in the South part of town through downtown to the road that runs along the waterfront. As we ride along the waterfront we're reminded that we do indeed live on an island as we don't see the water during the week. As we near the Saturday flea market at Queen Salote Wharf the street is lined with vendors selling mostly root crops from their bush plots.

There is plenty of car traffic, and drivers are inclined to stop anywhere along the way to make a purchase or just say hello to someone they know, so we have to be on our toes, so to speak. As we near the market the traffic slows; there's always quite a crowd as people come from all over the island looking for bargains.

At the flea market there are usually three rows of vendor booths set up, one end of which is under cover. It's probably half a kilometer from one end to the other. We walk down one row and back the other.

It's a great place for people watching; most everyone is dressed in weekend informal attire, but we often see people in more traditional attire, such as the folks dressed in black and elaborate ta'ovalas, signifying they are mourning the recent death of a family member. They will wear the funeral dress for a month, and if the relative was close they will continue to wear black for a full year.

Lots of vendors like to take advantage of the big crowds; the two cell phone companies in particular. On this day the Mormon missionaries were also present. The Mormons are a big presence in Tonga, and missionaries in their uniform traditional garb are seen everywhere. The nicest buildings in Tonga are Mormon churches and schools; we recently attended a meeting at the Mormon high school and it was comparable to one of the better schools in the U.S.

These pictures were taken the day before Mothers' Day. The first three Sundays in May honor children, mothers, and fathers in that order. So on this day there were many fancy dresses and lots of cakes and flowers for sale in addition to the normal assortment of a little bit of everything, from cosmetics, toiletries, all kinds of food items, shoes, used and new clothing, tools, some furniture, even a toilet. I find myself humming Alice's Restaurant (You can get anything you want . . .) a lot on our Saturday market forays.

We have established a few flea market traditions; about halfway through as we are beginning to wilt a bit from the heat and just before we double back, we buy shaved ice from an entrepreneurial family that includes Mom & Dad, their daughter and a grandma, pink lemonade for me and half-strength pina colada for Kathy.

On our way back I always stop to talk with Maui, a Tongan who has lived and worked in Oregon for many years and is often wearing Oregon Duck colors. I first noticed him when I spied a Portland Trail Blazers jersey hanging in his booth. He and his wife mostly sell Avon, but their kids sell popcorn (Kathy's a regular customer and a generous tipper) and like many vendors they have some used clothing and other stuff to sell as well. They've been back in Tonga for a year, but his wife and kids will be going back to the States in a few months for school and to deliver their next baby.

At the market we have found a product that is better than any other kind of potato chip I've ever eaten, the Toatu chips, made here from breadfruit, taro, banana, and cassava. The two girls who staff the booth also sell Tongan made soap, kuikui nut exfoliant, and pineapple and papaya jams. We're usually good for a purchase or two here.

There's one section reseved for local fishmongers. It's always felt a bit daunting to buy here, but the variety of fish and shellfish available is impressive.

After stopping at the Beach Hut (locally known as "Fresh") for a capuccino, it's back to downtown and a stop at the Talamahu Market. This big, open air market has been a fixture a downtown for quite a few years. We buy most of our fruit and vegetables here, and it also has an area for craft and clothing vendors on the second floor.

One of our favorite vendors (because she has a nice variety of salad greens) always hails us with a "Hello, friend" hoping to get our business, which she usually gets. But we always buy from at lest two or three vendors as it always seems that the shopping list can't be filled at only one. In fact that's the way of all shopping in Nuku'alofa; any trip to buy four or five items involves shopping at least three different stores.

Our bike baskets are fully laden at this point and we're getting hungry so it's time to head for home and see what the rest of Saturday will bring. I have posted more pictures in a Picasa web album; click on "Picasa" to the left to see more of the Saturday markets and people of Nuku'alofa.

20 'O 'Epeleli

I believe I have made the small but significant leap to embrace a Tongan practice shared by everyone; commoners, nobles, government ministers, and even the King, but nevertheless a practice I have studiously avoided: the wearing of cheap flip-flops. It’s been a source of wonder for me to observe people dressed to the nines, yet with nothing but flip-flops on their feet. Until now I have been wearing my trusty Chacos, strappy and sturdy, good support, molded to my feet. But I’ve made the switch, and I have my friend Mark to blame.

We spent a delightful, albeit rainy, Easter weekend (4 days!) on the beautiful island of ‘Eua with Mark & his wife Elena, a young couple also from Oregon, and the only other couple in our Peace Corps training group. ‘Eua is a relatively small island, populated mostly be Tongans who were relocated here in 1948 by order of Queen Salote from the far northern island of Niuafo’ou after the volcano that dominates it erupted. It’s the oldest island in the South Pacific, the one island in Tonga with a rain forest, and the Eastern side is dominated by cliffs. (See the Picasa link below for some photos). It’s starting to become noticed by those in the eco-tourism industry, although as of now there are only a few guest houses available to house tourists.

‘Eua has one main road running North and South, and our hosts live toward the Northern end on the grounds of an agricultural college where Elena teaches. Like most of the smaller islands in Tonga the roads are not well maintained, and as noted above it was rainy weekend. Meaning most of the considerable hiking we did was in mud. Of course my trusty Chacos were handy for some of the more rugged hiking we did, and Mark and Elena also had sturdier footwear for these adventures, but all the rest of the time everyone but me was walking around in flip-flops. In the mud and puddles and muck. After about the third time I tried to clean all the mud of my Chacos, I realized there might be something to this, as the flip-flops cleaned right up. If Mark was o.k. splashing around in these flimsy things, then I guess I could, too. My mother didn’t raise no dummies!

We have no lack of flip-flops at our house, thanks to Kathy’s sister Sheryl and our niece Alayna, who apparently has dozens of pairs, and Sheryl has been slipping a few pairs of the ones Alayna doesn’t wear anymore into the packages she has been sending us. So upon our return I selected a robin’s egg blue pair that seemed to fit, and for the last two weeks I’ve been wearing nothing but.

Since Easter we have had a lot of rain; apparently the rainy season which should have started a few months ago has arrived. On Sunday it rained so much our streets and front yards were completely flooded, and at least one of our PCV colleagues was flooded out of his house. Our house sits up a bit, but for a while Sunday evening we were an island in the Vaololoa sea. The access path to my library at ‘Atenisi (see photo gallery at Picasa link) is completely flooded, so I’ll be working from home today (Tuesday), a day I normally spend working there. The weather forecast indicates we’ll be having more of the same for the rest of the week. The flip-flops have been great for dealing with the continuing puddles, ponds, and mud.

We have become acutely aware that life in a developing country, and service as a volunteer, can be unpredictable in ways we have not experienced in our former lives. Our service is subject to change or interruption for any number of reasons, and good communication is often scarce. Five Tonga volunteers had to be relocated from outer islands when the ferries were berthed; three of those volunteers were beginning their second year of service and had created strong, positive working and personal relationships with their villages that were heart-wrenching to leave. Any significant medical issue usually requires a medical evacuation to Fiji or Australia. And there are the natural disasters, cyclones and tsunamis and earthquakes that occur without any warning. Coupled with the inherent difficulty of getting straight information from anyone, and especially government officials—no one wants to go out on a limb and state something as their superior could always overrule them—and you might get the picture that anything you might think you know today could be different tomorrow.

So as I continue this adventure venturing out each day in my flip-flops I do believe I am learning more about the importance of taking life as it comes, one flip flop at a time.

P.S. Mark & Elena's very interesting blog is linked below: "mk squared"

(This post by Kathy)

If It Itches…I missed a question on a Ninth Grade Biology Exam that went something like this; “Your skin performs a variety of functions, among them waterproofing.” True/False. Being a critical thinker, I reasoned that I put lotion on my skin and it soaked in so, therefore, skin does not perform a waterproofing function. I got the question wrong. This, in itself, is significant; most of the time I didn’t get anything wrong. But, this one missed question remains with me still and continues to inform my life. Case in point:

You may remember that I had a brush with a rather insistent staph infection early in my tenure in Tonga. The staph was able to gain entrance into my body organism because I had broken the skin, impairing the ability of my waterproofing to perform its primary function. Most likely, I had scratched one of the hundreds of mosquito bites I received while with my homestay family in Ha’apai.

I have since learned that it is entirely possible to have an itch that you do not scratch. I get mosquito bites every day, despite insect repellent and mosquito coils and mosquito screens on the windows. Mosquitoes find me very attractive. And the bites itch. I can choose to scratch them and play Russian Roulette with a recurrence of staph, or I can simply experience the itch until it passes. It does pass…eventually. The momentary gratification of scratching an itch is surpassed by the desire to live rather than succumb to flesh-eating bacteria (okay, this might be over-stating the severity of the situation just a bit).

Think about the ramifications of this lesson. No matter what the itch, no matter how much you want to scratch it, you don’t have to. You always have the choice to scratch or not scratch. So, if it’s your boss who is providing the itch, or perhaps your mate or significant other, or your child, or even if it’s the U.S. government, you can choose NOT TO SCRATCH the itch. What power.

The Ants Go Marching…Ants are very industrious creatures (think of the movie, “Antz”). In Tonga, they are particularly so. With the onset of taimi afa (cyclone season, also the rainy/hot season), the ants have decided to move indoors. I don’t blame them; the heat can be rather oppressive. This has necessitated increased vigilance in the area of food preparation and clean up for Rob and me. Any speck of food that is left on any surface immediately draws a swarm of ant activity. One might ask, “Where do they come from?” But, that thought is too frightening to consider and is not really the purpose of this missive.

When we first arrived at our site in mid-December, I remember a Group 74 PCV (the group that arrived in 2008) stating that she didn’t even worry about ants in her food anymore, she just gobbled them up taking advantage of the extra protein. I was appalled and certain that I would never get to that point.

We are very intentional about food storage. We seal all packages and sometimes place them inside Zip-lock bags. And, sometimes we even double bag particularly tasty treats (sugar) and then put them inside a Rubbermaid type of locking container. Still, the ants successfully track down any and all available unsecured food items. Rob thought that he could leave his jam on the shelf instead of refrigerating it; covered with ants inside and out. He forgot to place his cereal in the double bag/locking container system one morning and the next morning found it crawling with ants. Last night I made a couple of loaves of banana bread from the bananas harvested from our yard. I loosely covered the loaves to let them cool. When I went back to secure the foil covering, I found an ant swarm.

You’re wondering if we threw out the items mentioned above? We did not. We transferred each item to the freezer and froze those suckers out. So, while we’re still not willing to eat live ants (as far as we know, anyway), we’re not going to throw out good food just because of an ant invasion.

I guess it is possible for me to co-exist with ants, as well as the many other insects that thrive in a tropical climate. I never would have learned this about myself if I hadn’t spent these past few months in Tonga.

Also, just in case you’re wondering: ants really do go marching down to the ground to get out of the rain. I know this because we had to evacuate our home during Cyclone Rene. Pre-cyclone, ants were very active in every room in our house. Post-cyclone, two days later Rob and I returned and found nary an ant. The obvious conclusion: they went down…to the ground…to get out of the rain—which was prodigious. So now you know.

Getting Ant-sy. I believe that ants are quite interested in our evolution as humans and, therefore, provide us with many opportunities to learn and grow. Ants have helped me develop exceptionally strong skills in the area of maintenance and caretaking.

Did you know that ants will eat silicone? (no, not the kind that breast implants are made out of, although I wouldn't know about that!) In Tonga, we have a variety of species of ants. The ants that seem to be most pervasive are those that are about the size of a grain of sand. They are EVERYWHERE! They are especially keen (this is a word that I have begun to use while in Tonga, the Kiwis and Aussies have influenced me, I guess) on computers. Rob and I were just smashing them with our fingers whenever we’d see them on our computers until we found out that they are actually after the silicone chips. They gain entry into your laptop and devour the silicone. And, before you know it, your laptop is kaput.

So, we are now placing our laptops in over-sized Zip-lock bags whenever they are not in use. We must remain very vigilant in this practice for a single slip-up could mean the loss of our laptops; not a happy thought. This, in addition to using dessicant to eliminate moisture and placing our laptops in our bedroom, double-locking the doors every time we are away from home (security). It reminds me of a line from The Little Prince: “You must be vigilant in the toilette of your planet.” Planet Tonga requires a great deal of vigilance.

Wine Whine. While living in Pendleton, I was relatively certain that I couldn’t make it through a single day without a glass of wine. Partly, because I felt that I deserved it: I had been pretty much a tee-totaler for the first four decades of my life and felt that it was high time I enjoyed the fruit of the vine. And, partly because we had access to wines from the Walla Walla Valley appellation which is producing some of the finest red wines in the world. But, mostly just because I loved the idea—and the taste--of ending each day with a lovely glass of wine; it seemed so sophisticated.

Well, I can make it through a day without a glass of wine. Actually, I can make it through day after day, week after week, and even month after month. Wine is very expensive in Tonga. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are not paid. We do receive a monthly living allowance roughly equal to the average Tongan’s monthly salary. It is not possible to drink wine and stay within our budget. Additionally, I have discovered a direct correlation between the red wines available in Tonga (mostly from Australia) and migraine headaches. I have indulged in about three glasses of wine while in Tonga and have had immediate migraines in response. It’s just not worth it.

So, I’m pleased to find that I can make it through my days without the assistance of alcohol…or chocolate…or ice cream. It’s good to know.

Bipedal Life. In my real life, back in Pendleton, I would sometimes give thought to shunning motorized transport in favor of bipedal transport. Think of the benefits: cut down on your carbon footprint, lengthen the life of the ozone layer, contribute to breathable air for you and your neighbors, gain additional aerobic exercise, to name a few. My commitment to bipedal living generally lasted until the next crisis—like running out of wine. Then, I’d hop in my car and make a run downtown. When it comes to a decision between saving the ozone layer and having a glass of wine with dinner, wine will win out every time.

The Peace Corps does not allow Volunteers to drive vehicles. So, Rob and I purchased bicycles from two former PCVs and make our way around the capital city on bikes or on our feet. Finally, without the option of motorized transport, I am able to live a more principled and altruistic life. Isn’t it lovely when the Universe provides you with the support you need to make the choices that you really should make for yourself? And, now that we have been living bipedally for almost six months, I’m pleased to know that it is entirely possible and there aren’t really any crises that demand the use of carbon belching vehicles—not even an impending cyclone. I’m certain that I would not have come to this conclusion had I not spent the past six months living in Tonga.

I wonder what lessons Tonga will teach me over the next six months. Stay tuned….

28 'O Maasi (This post by Kathy)

You might think that life on a South Seas Island would be a serene experience. If that South Seas Island were Tongatapu, however, you would be mistaken.

http://picasaweb.google.com/robthbeck/20100328#5453549865267869970Our days typically begin well before the break of day with the opening notes of the Rooster Symphony. One rooster, located somewhere on our island, provides the downbeat. Not to be outdone, roosters from one end of the island to the other chime in, each adding his unique instrument to the symphony. The music lasts long after daybreak and, sometimes, it breaks out throughout the day if the weather should be overcast and, therefore, the roosters’ confused.

Competing with the Rooster Symphony on most mornings are the bells from the various churches. The church in our neighborhood calls parishioners to Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning Prayer Services beginning at 5:00 a.m. The first set of bells rings at 4:00 a.m., the second set at 4:30 a.m. and the final set at 5:00 a.m. (the “you’d better get your butt in the pew set), when the service actually begins. There are three church services on Sundays, each of which are announced by three sets of bells. Choir rehearsal takes place on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday evenings; again, these rehearsals are chimed into existence with three sets of bells. There are also additional services all of which, yes, you’re right, demand three sets of bells.

http://picasaweb.google.com/robthbeck/20100328#5453549712997232834In addition, Tonga is filled with a variety of animals that simply roam about the neighborhoods. The noisiest of these animals/fanga manu are the dogs and the pigs. The dogs run in packs that take up barking and howling and growling at the most inopportune times, usually around 2:00 a.m. The pigs evidently do not sleep during the night time hours because they quite often join the dogs, adding their snorts and squeals to the cacophony.

Adding to the music of the night are the local kava circles. You will remember that Tonga’s national drink is kava, made from the pepper plant. It is non-alcoholic but does have a sedative effect. Kava circles take place in a variety of venues but ALWAYS take place in association with the local churches. The kava circle that takes place regularly (2 to 5 nights each week) in the church next door to our house has a number of members who are fond of singing. Once they begin singing, they may sing for hours. One night, they sang us to sleep around 10:00 p.m.; they were still singing at midnight, 2:00 a.m., and 4:00 a.m. Too much of a good thing is still too much.

So, as you can see, life on our island is filled with some uniquely Tongan sounds. Due to the fact that I have very acute hearing, I get to enjoy all of these sounds to their fullest.

Sounds are only one aspect of the sensory-laden experience that is life in Tonga. There are also a variety of aromas that waft through the air.

You will remember that Tongan houses are not really “intact” structures. Whatever is taking place outside your home is also taking place inside your home. The windows are made of louvered glass panes approximately 6 inches by 18 inches which are typically tilted wide open to provide access to the breezes . So, the aromas that drift through the neighborhood also drift through your house.

Some of those aromas are pleasant. Recently some of the bushes in the neighbor’s yard were in full bloom and the fragrance was delightful. Typically, however, the smells are not all that pleasant. The most unpleasant comes from the Tongan practice of burning rubbish. Yes, there actually is a waste management company that picks up trash from all houses on the island, and, yes, there is actually a law against burning rubbish. And, yes, trash burning continues.

Each Saturday, Tokonaki (which means preparation…for church, of course) a neighborhood wide clean-up takes place. Of highest importance is clean up of the church grounds. The grounds are swept (they are covered with lawn but the grass is first cut with a string trimmer and then swept), then all the detritus is gathered into a heap and burned. Since everything is swept up together, the burn pile contains leaves and other green materials, paper trash, metal trash, and most notoriously, plastic trash (which is a HUGE problem in Tonga). Depending on what has taken place during the week, the resultant fire can be quite a conflagration. We happen to be downwind from the church’s burn pit. So, at least once a week, usually more often, we are suffocated by smoke filled with PCBs. This is especially helpful for Rob’s asthma.

This practice is doubly interesting in that Tongan’s get their drinking water from water catchment systems that include their roofs. Okay, let’s connect the dots: we burn rubbish releasing PCBs and other toxins which then land on our roofs, then we gather the water that falls on our roofs, picking up the toxins enroute, into cisterns which provide us with our drinking water. Truly, a brilliant plan. Rob and I drink water from the sima vai/cistern in our backyard.

One curious phenomenon that is quite widespread in Tonga is the brass band. We happen to have two large brass bands in our neighborhood: one at the police academy and the other at the Anglican high school, St. Andrews. The police cadets are especially fond of practicing late into the night and then again early in the morning. Most days they wait for 7:00 a.m. to start the drum beat but there are times when their enthusiasm gets the best of them and they have to begin earlier. I actually really like the brass bands, especially the one at the King’s Church (just imagine it—a brass band in a church), but not before 7:00 a.m. (Check out the Police band here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hu43tcnZurw

So, between the brass bands and the burning rubbish and the roosters/pigs/dogs, it is sometimes difficult to find peace in Tonga. Rob suggests that peace is not something that you find but, rather, something that you create within yourself. On my better days, I agree with him.

I have been reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Peace Is Every Step, which suggests that the path of mindfulness in everyday life will help you create peace in every step you take. In the section entitled, “Walking Meditation” Hanh suggests:

“Walking meditation can be very enjoyable….The purpose is to be in the present moment and, aware of our breathing and our walking, to enjoy each step. Therefore we have to shake off all worries and anxieties, not thinking of the future, not thinking of the past.” He says that, while we walk all the time, our anxiety-filled walking “imprints anxiety and sorrow on the Earth. We have to walk in a way that we only imprint peace and serenity on the Earth. Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.”

So, on my daily walk to school (about a mile), I attempt to walk in peace, being present in the moment, and kissing the Earth with each step I take, imprinting peace and serenity on the Earth. Most mornings this works very nicely and I am able to create a peaceful space within myself. Other mornings, when I’m caught in a deluge, when I forget something at home, when a driver almost runs me over—or all three—I am less successful.

I haven’t given any thought to attempting to imprint peace and serenity on the Earth on my walk home from school; it’s simply beyond my capacity to do anything but simply take the next step at the end of the day. Perhaps, by the end of 2011 when I return home, my experience in Tonga will have taught me to find peace in every step, even the steps that bring me home at the end of the day.

May you kiss the Earth with every step you take and dwell in peaceful coexistence with the cacophony that is daily life.

http://picasaweb.google.com/robthbeck/20100328#5453549554930834514

(This post from Kathy)

16 'o Ma'asi

Compare and Contrast

Sometimes, when trying to share life in Tonga with others, I find that the words available to me simply are not adequate. I am not able to paint a vivid picture of my experiences living and working in the Friendly Islands. I can hear my readers saying, “Oh, but that’s not so different from ______ (fill in the blank). But it is. I have decided to share some of the very stark contrasts I have observed. Perhaps this approach will more accurately describe Tongan reality.

The Typical Tongan Teen:

The primary school where I work is located right next to a secondary school: Tonga High School. Sometimes secondary schools are called high schools and sometimes they are called colleges, so it can be a bit confusing. Tonga High is one of the premier government secondary schools in the kingdom and students must pass the Secondary Entrance Exam (SEE) with a very high score in order to gain entrance.

There are 2000+ students attending Tonga High and they all make their way to school each morning by their own initiative. Some walk, but there is little residential housing in the vicinity. Most ride the bus. No, not the school bus. There are no school busses in Tonga. The bus system is privately owned and makes a great deal of money off of the students who ride to school, both primary and secondary. I have never seen a parent deliver their child to school. And, there is no parking lot at Tonga High because it’s not needed—not one student drives a car to school—or owns a car for that matter. That’s the stark contrast I was talking about in the introduction. Can you picture a high school in America without a parking lot full of students’ cars—couldn’t happen.

Canteens and Cafeterias:

The Class Six students I am currently working with are attending both “Morning School” and “Night School.” Their school day begins at 7:00 a.m. and doesn’t end until 5:00 p.m. This is part of the Class Six Teachers’ effort to raise test scores on the SEE—since only 7 of the 130 Class Six students passed the SEE last year (a major black eye for the school). This, in itself, would be grueling, but the school doesn’t serve the children breakfast, lunch, or snacks. There is no cafeteria or food preparation facilities whatsoever (this is true for all public schools in Tonga). There are, however, “canteens” set up behind the school by private vendors. The canteens are shanty-like structures that are tended from early morning until the children leave at the end of the day. They sell a variety of non-nutritious foods ranging from plastic baggies filled with a kool-aid type of mixture (the children bite the corner off the baggie and suck the contents out—just picture it!) to packages of ramen noodles to chips and twisties (a favorite here) and lollies. Of course, the children are on their own as far as paying for their daily bread. I have noticed, however, that many children do not have money and, therefore, do not eat all day long. Again, can you picture this in America? We’d call it child abuse and sue someone. A rather stark contrast.

Obesity and BMI:

You have no doubt heard me railing about Tongans having the highest BMI ratio in the world, right? So, you might imagine that Tongan children share their parents’ proclivity for heftiness. But, if you so imagined, you would be wrong. Perhaps this is due to the above scenario—no food all day long—but I don’t think so. I think it has more to do with their activity level. Tongan children run and climb trees and play marbles and play tag and hide and seek and soccer (when they can find something to serve as a ball) and the girls are the most talented hula hoopers I have ever seen. There are no organized sports for children in Tonga so children are not shepherded from soccer practice to dance practice to gymnastics. They have to entertain themselves and, for the most part, they have to take care of themselves. Parenting in Tonga is quite ad hoc. The stark contrast: I have not seen one child in Tonga playing with an electronic game. So, if Michelle wants to fight childhood obesity, I think she should ban electronic games (oh, and limiting TV time wouldn’t hurt either).

Sweeping/Tafi:

I’m fairly certain that there is not a single American school child who knows how to wield a broom. In stark contrast, every single child at Nuku’alofa GPS, all 600+ of them, are quite capable with a broom. They sweep the concrete floors in their classrooms. They sweep the walls of their classrooms to rid them of spider webs and other detritus. They sweep the school grounds—really! And, they sweep the sidewalks and sometimes the access roads to the school.

I must admit that I am completely incompetent with Tonga taufale, which are sort of “witches broom” type of constructions made with natural materials. So, I am quite happy with the fact that the puleako/principal has assigned me two “duties” whose responsibilities include sweeping the library/office each morning before I arrive (remember the children arrive at 7:00 a.m., which is much too early for me!)

Tokoni mai! Help me!

As part of a story writing project, I facilitated a Mind Mapmaking activity with the Class 5 and 6 students. Each of the children created a Mind Map that included personal information: Where I Live, My Family, What I Like To Do, and What I Want To Be. A fairly high percentage of children actually wrote “I like to help” on the “What I Like To Do” section of their Mind Maps. All right, given the whole universe of activities a child might list under this category, how many American children do you think would list “I like to help?” Oh, and many children also stated that they “Like to sweep.” But, in relation to my earlier obesity paragraph above, not one child said, “I like to play electronic games.” Another stark contrast.

In fact, the contrast between the typical over-indulged American child and the typical under-indulged Tongan child is too stark for words to convey. Every afternoon I work in the school library, attempting to get it in shape for our Grand Opening during Literacy Week, March 22 to 26. The work I have to do is not pleasant. And yet, each and every day, I have children lined up at both doors begging to help me. So, I invite a handful in and they quite happily scrub walls, doors, and floors. They scrape glue and tape off of the walls and shelves, they perform any task I ask of them and they do it with a smile.

Last month, Cyclone Rene roared through Tonga, scoring a direct hit on our island of Tongatapu. Our school building suffered minor damage but the entire facility and grounds were ransacked by the gale force winds. Many of the massive trees on the playground lost limbs, which were scattered about, some left hanging tenuously from their mother trees. Detritus from other sources had been deposited on the playground: pieces of roofing, fence parts, and wall sections. All of the classrooms had suffered wind and water damage, some were completely trashed. There were power lines lying on the ground.

Rob and I walked to the school the day after the cyclone to inspect the damage done to “my” library, of which there was none. Surveying the damage, we wondered how may days it would take to clean up and set things right so school could resume.

The next day children arrived with machetes and other implements of destruction and set to work cleaning up the mess. They hacked apart tree parts and hauled them into piles. They hauled desks and benches out of classrooms and then swept the standing water, along with stacks of sodden paper, out. They filled the trash barrels, dumped them on the school’s trash heap, and then filled them again. They filled up pick-up trucks with the downed branches then hopped on top of the stacks, rode to teachers’ houses, unloaded the branches, and then returned for more.

This experience provided me with yet another, “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” moment. In America, we would never allow children to enter school grounds in such condition. We would first assure that the facility and grounds were safe before allowing the children’s return. In Tonga, the children would be waiting a very long time. So, these can-do children—and teachers—got it done.

As I compose this post, two cyclones are menacing our ‘neighborhood:’ Tomas and Ului. While the projections show both of them passing us by, I have no doubt that the Tongan people, both young and old, will simply take it in stride if one or both should make landfall. They won’t wait for FEMA. They won’t wait for a declaration by the president/king. They won’t wait for the insurance companies to step in to the cover the costs. They’ll just get ‘er done. And that seems like a stark contrast to me.

Februay 20, 2009

(This entry is an edited version of an article I wrote for the next Peace Corps Tonga newsletter. My Peace Corps assignment is to teach Economics and reorganize the library at ‘Atenisi University.)

TONGAN Professor 'Ilaisa Futa 'i Ha'angana Helu (age 75) passed away on Tuesday, February 2 in Tongatapu. He was an icon of late 20th century Tonga, highly learned in Tongan culture and language as well as Western philosophy, literature and science. He founded and guided the only truly independent institution of higher learning in Tonga and had enormous influence on the pro-democracy movement. He loved Tonga deeply, and because of that love was one of the harshest critics of some contemporary Tongan trends.

Futa was born in 1934 at Lotofoa in Foa, Ha'apai, and he was one of the founding class of 12 in the newly established Tonga High School in 1947, which was started by the government to provide a secondary education for Tongans comparable to what was then only available in New Zealand or Australia. He passed the New Zealand School Certificate exam in 1951 in every subject but could not qualify for a scholarship because of his punishment history (mostly for his long hair). However, his extended family financed his education by making copra, and he attended Newington College and the University of Sydney in Australia from 1952-61.

In Australia Futa was more interested in learning than earning a degree, and he studied philosophy, English literature, mathematics, and physics, and he developed a love for Italian opera. After 10 years in Australia he was called home by his family, but instead of following his family’s expectations and embarking on a career in government he stayed in Nuku’alofa and began informal studies in Tongan culture and history, ethnography, and Italian opera.

He began attending fiekava (traditional men-only social gatherings around the kava bowl) and these sessions quickly became known for the conversations Futa led reflecting his insights and stories from his Western education as well as his knowledge of the Tongan language and history. Former student Sefita Hao’uli(1): “Before long it became known that Futa brought a new and refreshing dimension to these gatherings, and that the kava aficionados were now joined more and more by a wide range of people all keen to hear Futa and his stories. He introduced Socrates and the Greek philosophers, Homer, Shakespeare, Milton and others into the conversation so interestingly that it was never above anyone’s head.” He became a tutor to students who were having trouble keeping up with school, and later he began night classes for civil servants interested in improving their English and mathematics. These classes led him to begin ‘Atenisi Institute, which in English means "Athens," in 1963 as a night school. At this time there was a bulge of high school age students and a consequent demand for secondary schooling that could not be met by existing schools, and so ‘Atenisi High School was started by Futa and a group of parents in 1964. The first classrooms were traditional Tongan fale built of branches and thatch; later buildings were constructed by students, teachers and parents from timber they cut and milled themselves. In 1971 experimental university level classes were offered in Tongan culture, philosophy, mathematics, and English literature which led to the formal founding of ‘Atenisi University in 1975.

Probably the most ambitious project undertaken at ‘Atenisi was to establish a performing arts school. “Notwithstanding his and his institute’s existence in a swamp amidst all the apparent signs of poverty including the unfinished buildings and minimally equipped classrooms that constitute ‘Atenisi, in 1987 the ‘Atenisi Foundation for the Performing Arts (AFPA) was established. . . . The cynics and skeptics have long been silenced as, despite its humble material circumstances, AFPA has developed into an exciting and strong creative force. Its regular concerts contribute much to the artistic life of Tonga . . .” (1)

The editors of Polynesian Paradox (1) call Futa "one of the giants of modern Tonga, and indeed of the whole Pacific." Kalafi Moala, one of his earliest students: “I never cease to be amazed at this man’s knowledge. He is well read and a tireless thinker. There are three particular aspects of Futa’s life that come readily to mind when thinking about his contribution to Tonga. First, his incredible knowledge of Tongan history and culture that make him one of the most authoritative voices on any matter pertaining to Tongan society. Second, Futa has been a distinct voice in establishing a foundation of learning in which education is not just for utilitarian purposes, a means of getting employment, but a system of pursuing truth and the learning that would lift life to a higher level. Third, the contribution that he has made through his teaching on critical thinking: Futa personifies the notion of the critical thinker, which is, for Tonga, a radical one, and one lived out in his life and those of his students.”

From the editors: "For non-Tongans he is a paradox: a deeply traditional man, steeped in Tongan culture, but also the most articulate, thoughtful and strident critic of Tonga values and society. He led the way in Tongan studies at secondary and tertiary levels, but is a devotee of European civilization and especially its thought and music. The enigma of Futa has attracted many foreign scholars as well as Tongans to seek him out both for the pleasure of his company, for what they might learn from him, and sometimes simply to be a part of the exhilarating and audacious experiment that has been his whole life and work."

Futa was a scholar and a teacher, but never earned a degree. He was awarded an Honorary Doctorate in Literature by the University of the South Pacific in 1999 and has authored numerous books on Tongan culture. He retired as the ‘Atenisi Institute's Director and Dean in 2007 as his health was in decline, particularly due to Alzheimer’s disease.

The last word is from former student Sefita Hao’uli (2): “Futa may have been the founder of the ever-fledgling 'Atenisi Institute and University on the swampy western fringe of Nuku'alofa, but for those of us who came to know him well, he will forever be the scholars' scholar, the tutor to a nation, a mentor to the growing Tongan intelligentsia, an authority on Tongan arts culture, and a humble but courageous critic of Tonga's powerful elite.”

(1) Polynesian Paradox, a collection of essays in honour of Futa Helu on his 70th birthday edited by Ian Campbell and Eve Coxon, currently out of print.

(2) Letter to the editor, Matangi Tonga.

Monday, February 15, noon

Kathy and I are enjoying our lunch of crackers and cheese, apples, and brownies while we listen to and watch the torrential rain outside the windows of our second floor room at the Peace Corps office. Last evening we received a “consolidation” order from our Country Director, which means all PCVs on Tongatapu were to make their way (we took a taxi) to the Peace Corps office to ride out Cyclone Rene. As of this hour Rene has passed directly over the Northern island group of Vava’u as a Category 3 cyclone (equivalent to a Category 1 hurricane) and now has the middle island group of Ha’apai and us directly in her sights.

We came with food, some water, some bedding, iPods and computers. Here in Nuku’alofa the 13 of us are spread all over the building; most of us are in the training room right now watching a movie. We’re lucky; our Vava’u colleagues gathered in a local Mormon Church, and the Ha’apai group is all together in one of the volunteer’s home, so they do not have the luxury of space or electricity (we have a generator) that we do. We keep hoping the storm track will veer away to the West or East, but so far we have been disappointed on that score, so it looks like we are going to experience our first hurricane. We are informed that the cyclone proper should arrive later this afternoon and will probably take until early morning to pass through. At this point we have lost electricity, landline phones, and the internet, but cell phones are still working. While most everything is closed down, the food store across the street was still open as of an hour ago and there are a few cars on the increasingly waterlogged roads.

For the most part the local Tongans don’t seem to be taking the storm as seriously as we are. However, our immediate neighbors were boarding up windows as we are leaving yesterday evening, and because they own our little house they were going to put something up over our very exposed East facing windows. We’re hoping for the best as far as damage, but obviously won’t know anything until we can go home, which won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest.

Monday, 7 p.m.

Extremely strong winds and buckets of rain are exposing any place that will leak; the door from the outside to the room we’re camping in is letting in a fair amount of water from not just underneath, but around the sides and the top. Several smaller trees on the property have come down, and at least one screen door has been blown off one of the more exposed first floor rooms. The latest news is that the brunt of the hurricane will hit about 9 p.m. and we should expect the eye around midnight. That would mean we should be back to just gale force winds by dawn. What fun.

8:20 p.m.

It’s been strangely quiet now for about 45 minutes. Was our forecast wrong? Is this the eye? Or the “armband?” I’ve never heard of an armband before, so I’m thinking (hoping) it’s the eye. We’ll know soon; if it’s the eye the winds will be coming from the opposite direction when it resumes. Anyway, the tension is eased, we took the group photo (hopefully I’ll have it to post) and now everybody’s getting ready to watch another movie.

9:30 p.m.

The winds have picked up again, and the good news they’re coming from the North! That means it was the “eye” and while we’re in for another 3 or 4 hours of blasting, the winds should gradually diminish as Rene passes on by. The bad news is we have no power to the second floor of the building where we are all staying; some glitch in the building’s electrical system. The generator continues to run and the lights, etc. are all working on the first floor, so the movie watchers moved down to the volunteer lounge to watch on the TV down there. Kathy and I and others are staying up here, writing on our computers and thinking about getting some sleep.

Tuesday, February 16, 6:30 a.m.

As predicted the winds continued all night, although without as much rain as earlier. I’m up at 6:30, and the Country Director is starting to waken everybody to send us home. The brunt of the storm is past, and we will continue with strong winds all day, but we’re up and moving.

8:30 a.m.

Our little house is in remarkably good shape. The cardboard nailed up by our landlords’ boys has kept water from blowing in our windows, and we only have some water on the floor by the back door to clean up. No power, so no internet, but we do have water. We are most thankful that the storm has spared us from any significant damage. Our little cat Lilo greeted us hungrily, and she has now had her first food in a few days. We’ve boiled some water on the stove and made French press coffee and are feeling pretty good—and pretty darn lucky. While there is a lot of debris around, a number of uprooted trees and many broken branches (one appears to have taken out our power line), there does not appear to be any major damage. We see evidence of a few roofs that have come off, but nothing more serious than that. Life is slowly returning to normal. We don’t expect to have power for a few days, but we do have water so we’ll be fine. And probably back to work tomorrow.

It's 4 p.m. Sunday our time, and Cyclone Rene is now a Category 3 cyclone (hurricane)moving along towards the northern Tongan islands at about 15 mph. The latest projected path brings Rene right to us here on Tongatapu (our island) tomorrow afternoon/evening. However, this is the 3d path projection we've seen, and cyclones don't read the maps. As of right now we're thinking we'll be called in to PC headquarters tomorrow morning in a move called "Consolidation," but it could happen tonight. In any event we're preparing for that. If you'd like to see the path it's here: http://www.met.gov.fj/sat-map.html (look for the link in the lower left for the track map). And we'll keep you posted as internet service allows.

It's Saturday morning here in the Friendly Islands, and we are in "Stand Fast" mode, which means we are staying close to home, monitoring the progress of Cyclone Rene and doing some stocking up (kerosene for our oil lamps, batteries, drinking water). Forecast models have us in Rene's path (the most current one has Rene passing to the West of us) with the Northern island group of Vava'u most likely to get hit, possibly by tomorrow. We plan to do our usual Saturday routine of shopping, but we'll be monitoring the situation throughout the weekend.

We have plenty of information about how to weather a cyclone (hurricane) and are not worried. If we are to get a direct hit we will likely "consolidate" at the Peace Corps Office (nice big building with emergency supplies). I'll try to post new developments here as they occur.

An email from a good friend back home has caused me to do some thinking about where we are four months into this Peace Corps adventure. We’ve been caught up in the busy-ness of getting settled, of integrating into our community, orienting to our teaching work, and continuing to adapt physically to the tropical climate (not as easy as you would think!). At the same time, because we are connected via the internet to the rest of the world we (make that mostly me, Kathy not so much) are in touch with the goings on back home.

Anyway, my friend asks about how my world view has been affected by this experience. He also writes about the continuing issues he faces as a public employee with this persistent recession; mandatory furlough days and office closures coupled with an increased human services workload because of the poor economy. And in the midst of the uncertainty all that creates, being aware of the stumbling efforts of our leaders to proactively deal with unemployment, health care, bank reform, and how to provide public services with declining tax revenues and no prospect for improving that situation.

Just last year I was working in that same environment, having to take a pay cut, taking additional unpaid furlough days, and watching my retirement nest egg turn south. And yet I counted myself among the lucky ones because I wasn’t carrying a lot of debt, had great health insurance, and could still pay the mortgage and the bills and help my daughter with her wedding expenses. But given the increasing anxiety and stress in my workplace as my good-hearted and willing colleagues were becoming worn down trying to keep up with the demanding workload with less and less to work with, “retiring” from state service and entering the Peace Corps felt like a very sane thing to do. Get out of the country for a few years, leave the uncertainty and stress, and do some good work in a simpler place in a situation where I could still count on my basic needs being taken care of. Peace Corps has not disappointed on that part of the vision.

So four months into this experience and from my vantage point—removed, yet connected--it is easy to see what a mess the United States is in. Congress (and state legislatures) are completely dysfunctional; reason and dialogue have long ago left the scene and been replaced by a proliferation of special interests catering to peoples’ fears with the power of the internet and seemingly endless amounts of money. It doesn’t help that the highest court of the land has approved unbridled political spending by corporations as a form of free speech. Much of this spending advances blatant misrepresentations (e.g. “death panels”) that further factionalizes politics and creates even more fear. The result is legislative paralysis; one party refuses to play at all, and the dominant party can’t get its act together because too many players are all trying to get their piece of the pie.

The rest of the world watches this drama and shakes its collective head. Why can’t this great and powerful country at least make sure that all its citizens can have access to affordable health care? Why does it allow the rich and powerful to make billions from unregulated financial markets and massive tax cuts and then bring the world to the brink of an economic depression through their irresponsible and reckless behavior?

Tonga is most definitely a third-world country, and it certainly has major issues of its own. For starters it has extremely limited resources. It is an economy that relies heavily on remittances from family members living in affluent countries, and the global recession has drastically reduced this flow. But all Tongans have free access to health care; it could be better, actually much better, because many critical services are not available (our neighbor died of kidney failure because he had no access to dialysis here and could not afford to travel out of country for care). And it has lots of arable land; Tongan families typically have one or more plots of land which have been given to them by the government (all first born male children are entitled to their own plot when they turn 16) that they use to grow food, and subsistence agriculture is still a mainstay for most families, especially away from the capital city. While unemployment here is nominally quite low, many adults are not included in the labor force because they are engaged in subsistence agriculture and/or fishing and don’t otherwise “work” as far as earning a wage is concerned. Those who get good educations usually go abroad for higher education in New Zealand, Australia, and the U.S. and many do not return on a permanent basis (there are more Tongans living outside the country than in.)

And Tonga has some very serious political problems stemming from some peculiar traits around decision making. This is a very hierarchical society; great importance is accorded to rank. Tongans may engage in a lively debate about how to solve a problem, but when the highest ranking person in the room voices his opinion, the matter is settled. For example, it’s been most illuminating to read about the ongoing inquiry into what led up to the decision for the government to purchase the Princess Ashika ferry; this is the ferry that sank last August carrying some 80 people to the bottom of the ocean. Ample evidence has been presented to document that this ship was an unseaworthy “rust bucket” at the time it was purchased, but curiously that information was not known to (or not acknowledged by) those who approved the purchase, who curiously did not seek to verify the ship’s condition, and apparently no one who did know the ship’s condition felt they had the obligation to inform. This inquiry has led to the docking of the only other ferry serving the Tongan islands, the privately owned MV Pulupaki, which has also been determined by experts to not be seaworthy. This decision has led to the Peace Corps calling in five volunteers living and serving in outer islands in Ha’apai who now do not have a way to get to and from their islands. More importantly it has left many residents of those islands without inter-island transportation or a reliable way to get supplies.

I’m learning that it really doesn’t matter where you live, there is plenty of

political and cultural craziness wherever you happen to be. Do I want to trade places with the our host family in Ha’apai who now does not have a reliable way to send their sons and daughter to school on Tongatapu or get necessary supplies like propane for their home because the government can’t make the necessary decisions to provide safe transportation for people and goods? Life goes on for them, they will adapt and adjust just as life goes on for us and for our friends and family back home.

So, my friends, at this point I must report that living this experience has not led to any profound changes in my thinking as yet. In my next post I will be writing about Futa Helu, the thoroughly Tongan intellectual giant who fervently promoted a Classical model for education, using the Socratic Method as his instructional model. He embraced traditional Tongan culture and was a significant advocate for the development of democratic governance in Tonga. He was the founder of my college (‘Atenisi University), and he died earlier this week. Since the college has been floundering in recent years, there will be much to write about as school begins and we see how his death impacts the whole situation. So stay tuned.

25 o’ Sanuali, 2010

(This post was originally an email from Kathy)

When you first enter a foreign environment, you are immediately struck by ways of being and doing that feel, well, foreign. Sometimes they feel foreign in a good way: the vibrant street life of Paris, for example. Sometimes they feel foreign in a less than good way: the way Tongan teachers treat their students, for example.

Your initial reaction to some foreign ways of being and doing may be one of amazement, incredulousness, or even disgust. It’s then that you remind yourself that you are living among people who do not share your culture or values.

From Making Sense of Tonga by Mary McCoy:

“Fish don’t see water. And most humans don’t see the culture they live in. The most basic elements of a culture are typically not in the conscious awareness of its inhabitants.

The situations we each think of as ‘normal’ are really sets of expectations molded and prodded by the culture in which we grow up. Manners, definitions of success, sources of guilt and shame—are all based on expectations imbedded in a specific setting and can vary widely from culture to culture.

In traveling from one part of the world to another, we tend to project the cultural expectations we are used to onto the inhabitants of the new location, forgetting that the ground rules in this new locale may be different. Coming to the realization that 2 + 2 might not equal 4 in the new locale is a first step in preparing yourself to understand the unique demands that different culture has on its inhabitants. If visitors cannot break out of the pattern of projecting their own culture onto places they visit, they will never come to embrace the variety and richness of the world. In order to escape the tourist bubble, you need a way to become aware of the local culture’s expectations of its members. Only then can you learn what makes each place truly unique.”

As a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV), it is especially important to “understand the unique demands” that Tonga has on its inhabitants, “break out of the pattern of projecting” my own culture onto Tonga, and “embrace the variety and richness” of Tonga, the Tongan people, and their culture.

It is with an element of surprise that I find myself actually adapting to Tongan culture in certain ways. Behaviors that, at first, I found intriguing, puzzling or appalling have now become a part of my personal retinue of behaviors.

The transition to dressing in the Tongan way came easily to me. During the preparation phase of our PC service, we received warnings concerning the conservative dress of Tongans. Women were cautioned to bring skirts that fell below the knee, shirts/blouses with sleeves (women may not show their armpits or knees), and no clothing that is revealing in any way. That suited me just fine since I have been in the habit of dressing primarily in skirts that fall below the knee for some time and, due to the fact that I am a woman over 50, I’m averse to showing my upper arms, including my armpits. Additionally, women in Tonga wear a decorative clothing item called a kiekie. Kiekies come in a variety of forms from solid woven mats to finely crafted artistic creations. Being a girlie-girl at my core, I embraced the kiekie as an additional skirt-type garment that allows me to put together outfits that border on costumes—always fun. So, in my dress at least, becoming Tongan has been a smooth transition.

Bicycling in the Kingdom

During my first few days in Faleloa, I noticed that very few children wear shoes: at home, at play, or at school. This concerned me to a certain degree but my concern went on “high caution” when I saw children riding bikes without shoes or while wearing flip flops. It goes without saying that they didn’t wear helmets; I believe that the ONLY bicycle riders in the Kingdom who wear helmets are Peace Corps Volunteers. As an avid bicyclist, I am all about caution. Rob and I typically wear appropriate gear from head to toe while riding our bikes in the States, including sturdy, hard-toed, Velcro-strapped bicycle shoes and, of course, helmets.

As PCVs, we are not allowed to drive motorized vehicles of any kind. Therefore, when we want to get from Point A to Point B for any reason—shopping, meetings, work, play—we ride our bikes. I am surprised to find that I am now more comfortable riding my bike in flip flops than I am in more sturdy/ appropriate/safe attire.

Becoming Tongan?

Sun, Sun Go Away: Tongans and Umbrellas

Another practice that I found unusual when I first arrived was the way Tongans use umbrellas/ fakauha. They are used to block the sun rather than the rain. Tongans will use almost anything to keep the sun from falling on them directly: a branch of a tree or bush, fabric (typically a lavalava), or even a cardboard box. In a country where light skin is preferred, it’s important to block the sun’s skin-darkening rays.

Last week I decided to walk to Peace Corps headquarters; a walk of about 1 ½ miles. Now that summer/taimi afu has arrived in earnest, the temperatures and humidity can be quite uncomfortable and the sun rather intense. I decided to stop by a China shop (as in a shop that’s owned by people from China) and purchase an umbrella since I was sweating/pupuha’ia profusely by the time I had walked just over a block. It worked! By blocking the sun’s rays, I was able to walk in relative comfort, still taking advantage of the breezes that made their way under the canopy.

There are, however, a number of Tongan practices that continue to concern (horrify) me; I hope never to adopt them.

Primary among these: Tongan eating habits. If you are a guest at a Tongan’s table, you will be encouraged to “Kaimate!” Literally, this means eat until you die. It is evident that many Tongans follow this exhortation since they have the highest BMI ratio in the world, along with very high rates of diabetes and heart disease (even higher than the U.S.) Tongans also find physical exercise anathema, which explains why there are two falekoloas (shops) on every block; Tongans simply will not walk a block to buy a food item. I do not intend to become Tongan in my eating or exercise habits.

Lotu…Lotu….Lots of Lotu

I also do not plan to become Tongan in my church-going habits. In Rob’s most recent blog post, he described the events surrounding Uike Lotu, the Week of Prayer which takes place the first week of every year. During Uike Lotu, the church bells ring at 5:30 a.m. and again at 5:30 p.m. calling the parishioners to attend prayer services. This week is by no means atypical, however, as in any given week services take place twice on Sunday, along with early morning prayer services beginning at 5:30 a.m. on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. There are, of course, many special events in addition to these regularly scheduled services which are also rung into existence by the ever-present fafangu/church bells. As Mae West said, “Too much of a good thing is still too much of a good thing.”

Beat Your Child With A Stick!

This week I have begun my work assignment as a Teacher Trainer at Nuku’alofa Government Primary School. As I described in an earlier communiqué, this is the largest elementary school in the Kingdom with somewhere between 600 and 700 students in grades 1 through 6 and 20 staff. I am approaching my assignment with characteristic optimism but also a certain amount of trepidation.

During my model school experience, I encountered teachers who ridiculed, berated, and belittled children. I also observed teachers slapping/paa’i and hitting/taa’i children with sticks for bad behavior. Additionally, children are regularly pinched and slapped for giving wrong answers. While we were assured in our training that it is against the law for teachers to employ corporal punishment, these Draconian practices remain.

Our more seasoned Peace Corps colleagues—who have had more time to adapt then we have and know more about what they can influence and what they can’t--say to “get used to it.” I will not. In this respect, at least, I refuse to become Tongan.

"Beauty is about the improbable coming true suddenly." Charles Simic

7 o’ Sanuali, 2010

The holidays are over, Uike Lotu (Week of Prayer) is in full swing (church services every morning and evening), and every once in a while it rains a bit. In between it’s quite warm and humid, but not yet oppressive. With the warmer temperatures and moisture, there is more color popping out than we’ve seen before. Our little garden is producing orchids, amaryllis, bougainvillea and heilala, and on our walks around the neighborhood we see frangipani, hibiscus, camellias, poinsettias, Rose of Sharon, and others we don’t know the names of yet. Hedges and fencerows that previously looked like little more than dried thickets are now bursting into a riot of color: improbable…and beautiful.

This is the week we begin our primary assignments in earnest. For Kathy this has meant beginning to tackle the library/laipeli at Nuku’alofa GPS. Located in a small building that also serves as the principal’s office/puleako ofisi, storeroom for groundskeeping and athletic equipment, teacher work space and resource room, and copy center, her first task is to identify what library materials are worth keeping and then how to get rid of all the garbage/extraneous materials that don’t belong there. And because all the school officials are on their summer break and not available, she is somewhat limited in what she’s able to accomplish.

I also have been designated as the Librarian for ‘Atenisi, and I had my first good look at it earlier this week. These materials are more organized, at least by topic, but there is no catalog. Most of the books are dated, and many are in poor condition. Like most university libraries the best books that once were there are long gone, checked out or just taken, never to be seen again. (I vividly remember from my college days that the most relevant books were checked out to professors and residing on their office shelves). I’ll likely spend a few days in there before school starts to become familiar with what’s there and then propose some kind of strategic planning process with the university faculty regarding what the library needs to be.

So the bulk of my time these days has been spent getting familiar with on-line text resources and setting up my course outlines. Of course the big unknown is what the capabilities of my students will be, so I really can’t do much actual lesson planning until I meet my students and have the opportunity to assess their abilities. It’s been interesting getting back up to speed with teaching a subject that I haven’t worked with for almost 20 years, but the synapses seem to be restoring.

On one level I have a pretty good idea what to expect from my students, based on my practice teaching experience and conversations with people who have been teaching in Tonga for a while. As one college teacher expressed it, Tongans are taught that compliance is all-important. This is, after all, a feudal society at the heart. There is great reverence for the king, absolute respect for the nobles who control village life, and well prescribed rules governing relationships and responsibilities in the family. A Tongan doesn’t have to think much about important issues of family and village life, as the decisions are largely out of his/her influence.

Tongans are taught to be rote learners, and for the 12 years of their primary and secondary education they have been punished (often pinched, slapped, hit, and/or ridiculed) for wrong answers. You can ask your Economics students to explain the Law of Demand and they can give you the textbook definition, but if you ask them to explain what will happen to the price of a good when a famous athlete endorses it you’re likely to get blank stares in response, and if you're able to get them to write an answer to this question you’ll get some interesting answers. So it’s going to be a challenge to try to engage them in some creative or critical thinking.

My school, ‘Atenisi University, was founded as an institution of “classical” learning. It’s the only university in Tonga that is not run by either the government or a church. The founder, Futa Helu, is a local legend, and I encourage you to read about him: He is still alive and lives on the grounds of the school; I met him the other day as I was getting the lay of the land there. He is in his 70s and suffering from dementia and appears to also be in frail physical health.

As we phase into the Tongan summer and experience the blooming all around us we prepare to start encouraging the blooming of young creative minds; hoping for opportunities for the improbable to come true…suddenly.

23 ‘o Tisema: Christmas Eve Eve

Here we are in the tropics at Christmastime. The Tongan Christmas is unlike any Christmas I’ve ever experienced. The overwrought commercialism is largely absent; while there is some gift giving it appears to be mostly small stuff. Concerts are popular; there was a big local concert last night featuring some local musicians, including the brass brand from Tupou College, our neighborhood school. Our PC neighbor went and said it was great, but we stayed home because Kathy’s been laid low by a staph infection.

It started with a boil on her leg a few weeks ago, then last week another boil appeared on her left shoulder. While she was diligent in following the prescribed treatment, it became clear by Monday evening the infection was spreading to her neck and left ear. Our medical officer took her to a real palangi doctor on Tuesday; he prescribed intensive antibiotics and put an IV port in her left forearm. (Readers who know Kathy will be cringing at this point knowing her opinion of needles, especially big ones.) So for the last two days she has been receiving injections at 8 a.m., 4 p.m., and midnight; as I write this at 11:45 p.m. we are waiting for the nurse to arrive. Tomorrow she goes back to the doctor and hopefully we can move to oral administration. The injections are painful, but they appear to be having an impact.

The other big news is that our landlord and his plumber replaced our broken instant hot water heater with a new one yesterday, and so now we are living in luxury with hot water to our shower and sinks. Kathy’s convinced (and I’m not arguing the point) that the lack of hot water for the last two months is largely responsible for her current medical issue.

When we moved in last Thursday, our next door neighbors were in the 5th day of the putu for the family patriarch who had died of renal failure sometime over the weekend. He was only in his mid-50s. Lots of people around, lots of comings and goings and feasting; several big tents had been erected on the grounds, and various activities, including prayer services and vigils going on all night. For some reason the Tongan people feel it is important to stay up all night when honoring the dead. They then sleep throughout the daylight hours, and when the sun goes down the putu festivities kick into high gear. This goes on for 10 days. All this is over now, but several relatives from abroad will be staying through the holidays, so there is still some music making going on in the late evening, and most of it is pretty good.

24 ‘o Tisema: Christmas Eve

It’s Christmas Eve and we are experiencing a Christmas Eve like none we have experienced before. For some reason the Tongans like to celebrate Christmas with fireworks, a curious choice for a Christian kingdom. So there is random fireworks being shot off around our neighborhood all evening. This might have something to do with the fact that most of the falekoloas (small shops) are owned by Chinese, and you’ll remember who invented fireworks. Also, I have never seen as much traffic and related activity as we saw today; it appears the Tongans like to wait until the very last minute to do their Christmas preparations; not a bad tradition, in my view. Which leads me to our TOP EIGHT LIST OF REASONS TO SPEND CHRISTMAS IN TONGA:

8. You don’t have to listen to the same Christmas carols being played over and over in the shopping malls; there are no shopping malls.

7. You don’t have to watch all the ads for after Christmas sales; Tongans have not commercialized Christmas and most of their holiday gift giving is inexpensive candy, clothes, etc.

6. You don’t have to worry about competing with anyone in your neighborhood with lighting displays; we have seen one house decorated with a few Christmas lights.

5. You don’t have to worry about being snowed in or inconvenienced by winter weather. Today it was sunny and 82, and right now it’s about 70 and breezy. Tomorrow promises to be the same. And the day after, and the day after that….

4. You don’t have to worry about your tree drying out and catching on fire. We have yet to see a Christmas tree anywhere.

3. You don’t have to eat figgy pudding, fruitcake or anything else that you typically find on the Christmas dinner table. It’s just not here. We’re having tuna pasta salad and banana bread made from bananas from our yard. (This item is a good thing only if you don’t like traditional Christmas goodies; I’m missing all the Christmas cookies, fudge, peanut brittle, peppermint bark, ginger bread men, and Geena’s party mix big time!)

2. You don’t have to buy any obligatory presents; the shipping costs are simply too prohibitive. On the other hand we are missing the joy of gifting our loved ones.

1. You don’t have to read anything about Sarah Palin’s “Going Rogue” book tour, balloon boy, or Tiger Woods’ affairs in the papers or on the news; we have yet to find a newspaper and we don’t have a TV. (Many Tongans do have TVs, but they use them only to watch pirated DVDs).

On the health front: Kathy’s much better; the IV port in her arm is gone and she’s on oral antibiotics and generally feeling more like herself. I, on the other hand, came back from running around town and promptly felt feverish, had a sore throat and headache, so I took some ibuprofen and fell into bed. Because of this we had to cancel out of the Christmas Eve party with all our PC friends. Dang.

We are missing family and friends and pray that all of you are having a wondrous and joy filled holiday season, and that you are not cursing Jose Feliciano after hearing Feliz Navidad for the 500th time!

. . . is a very very very fine house. Check us out by clicking on the "Picasa" link and viewing the "Tongatapu" folder.

15 ‘O TISEMA (Tusite)

Our first day in Tonga featured a tsunami warning which threatened to delay our formal welcoming ceremony. Now our Swearing In Ceremony, the celebration of the conclusion of our training and the conversion from “Peace Corps Trainee” to “Peace Corps Volunteer,” is now threatened by Cyclone Mick.

Mick crossed the main island of Fiji last night as a Category 2 hurricane and is now headed straight for us. The last report had Mick downgraded to a “tropical depression” so the likely result will be strong winds and buckets of rain. We’ve been having the rain for the last 24 hours; my guess is it’s rained 3 or 4 inches, and we’ll probably get at least that much more over the next 36 hours. Peace Corps staff has already changed the venue for our ceremony from a resort on the Northwest tip of the island and a nice catered lunch to a hall here in Nuku’alofa with simple refreshments. While we all appreciate the caution it is a bit of a letdown.

The other impact is a delay in moving to our sites. Kathy and I (and all the other volunteers on Tongatapu) were scheduled to move into our house tomorrow afternoon after the ceremony; that’s now been moved to Thursday. Those going to other islands will be delayed until the ferry is running again, which will likely not be until Friday. All their stuff is going on the ferry, and while they will be flying that can’t really go until they know their stuff will be arriving. So it’s all up in the air.

Today was our last official training day. We all received the results of our language exam, and nine of us (including Kathy) scored “Intermediate High” which is the best result of any training group. I was happy to score “Intermediate Low” and as a result will look forward to continuing language study with a tutor.

16 ‘O TISEMA (Wednesday morning)

After a very stormy night we have awakened to a calmer morning. It’s breezy, strong winds are in the forecast, but it appears the worst of the rain is over. Tongatapu is basically flat, it has no rivers and therefore no flooding, but there is a great deal of standing water everywhere. We had a power outage last evening for about an hour, but thankfully the power came back on and has stayed on.

Everyone is getting ready for swearing-in; we all need to look good. I’m giving the “thank you” speech as part of the ceremony and it’s ready to go. Hopefully I won’t stumble over the little bit of Tongan I’m including at the beginning and end. Here is the main (English) part of what I’m going to say:

“Today you are honoring 26 Americans by accepting us as Peace Corps Volunteers. I say “honor” because we believe that Peace Corps service is a privilege, a privilege that few Americans have the opportunity to pursue. We come from all over America, from the East Coast to the Great Lakes, from the Deep South to the Great Northwest, from the Heartland to the sun-drenched beaches of California. Most of us have lived, worked, and studied in other countries, so we bring a very wide range of life experiences with us. Our motivations to join the Peace Corps are as varied as our backgrounds, but we all come with the desire to serve. We signed up without any idea of where we would be working, but we are absolutely delighted that we were chosen to serve the Kingdom of Tonga.

For the last 10 weeks you have worked very hard to prepare us for the challenges facing us. You have taught us the basics of the Tongan language and the ulangaanga faka-fonua ‘o Tonga, and showed us how to dress and behave in a culturally appropriate manner. We’ve even had the opportunity to sing and dance faka-Tonga. Along the way these efforts have given all of us the opportunity to have some good laughs. But more importantly it has helped us begin to appreciate the Tongan Way of living. For this work and these experiences we are profoundly grateful.

We have also had the opportunity to do some teaching of Tongan children in Tongan schools, and to a more limited extent to work with Tongan teachers. This experience has helped us appreciate some of the challenges we will experience during our service; it has also showed us that Tongan children are as eager to learn as children anywhere. As the first group of volunteers to serve the Tonga Expanded Community Education Project we look forward to working with our Tongan partners and the Ministry of Education to further the goals of TECEP, especially to move toward the vision for the Tongan teacher: “Faiako ma’a Tonga,” “Teach for Tonga.”

President John F. Kennedy created the Peace Corps almost 50 years ago. He said that the Peace Corps “is designed to permit our people to exercise more fully their responsibilities in the great common cause of world development.” This group of 26 fortunate and grateful Americans is ready to accept that responsibility. So on behalf of the group, malo ‘aupito.” (The speech concludes with some thank yous in Tongan.)

17 ‘O TISEMA: Tuapulelulu EVENING

What a day! I’m writing from our house; we’re all moved in and have spent the day cleaning, cleaning, organizing, cleaning and a little bit of shopping. But we’re in; we celebrated with a pasta dinner cooked in our own kitchen, the first time we’ve done that since the end of September.

Swearing-in went great, although Kathy was pissed because nobody bothered to tell us some dress expectations. Most of the women wore a puletaha (a traditional two piece outfit worn on special occasions), and she didn’t have one. Most received one as a gift from their homestay family. There’s more, but it’s too complicated to explain here. I got through my speech just fine, some of our colleagues did a ma’ulu’ulu (seated dance) and Kathy and I sang with the singers. This was the same dance we did at culture day a few months ago. The Tongan Minister of Education was the guest of honor, the Japanese ambassador and the New Zealand Deputy Chief of Mission attended, and we all took the basic Federal oath to obey the constitution and defend the U.S. from all enemies domestic and foreign. (So watch out, Osama Bin Laden!)

Afterwards we did some more shopping for household stuff, and then we all went out to a celebration dinner at a very nice Italian restaurant. We had a great time; I kept looking up and down the table and realized that we’ll never be together like this again.

It has been an incredible journey these past two months; every single one of us that came in October was sworn in; that is very, very unusual. Usually a few decide this isn’t for them, often someone has a medical issue arise that prevents them from going on, and sometimes Peace Corps terminates a trainee for not following the rules. (usually too much partying). One of the rules is to not drink at all in our homestay village; during the two months we were there I had a grand total of 3 beers and 2 glasses of wine, usually on one of our forays into Pangai. We heard that the Samoa group we staged in L.A. with lost at least three during training, which is more typical). But we all made it, no one seems the worse for wear, although there are varying degrees of weight loss (mostly men; I lost 10 pounds) and gain (mostly the women, but not Kathy, who has lost weight much to her delight. We will always be Tonga Group 75 and that is now part of our identity. As I said in an earlier post, we begin a new chapter in Peace Corps Tonga’s history with new leadership (interviews for the next Country Director are taking place in D.C. as I write), a new project and focus, and, of course, a fresh batch of volunteers. This will be interesting; stay tuned.

Dear Reader, please note I have added a few photo albums for your viewing pleasure. Click on the "Picasa" link to the left and enjoy!

11 ‘o Tisema:

It’s Friday evening and we are celebrating the end of training. 11 ‘o Tisema (December 11) is the date on all our calendars we’ve been anxious to get past, because it’s the day of the dreaded OPI: the Oral Proficiency Exam, the conclusion of our pre-service language training. The test involved an interview in Tongan with one of the language trainers. We were required to answer a variety of questions and to engage in a shopping dialogue; the interview took about 20 minutes and was tape recorded. It will be scored by a committee of language trainers. While we have all been assured that this is not a pass or fail test (nobody will be going home for performing poorly), how we perform will determine how much additional language tutoring we will be required to do over the next three months. But more importantly, while we do have more classes next week on Peace Corps policies, some medical training, and more on community integration strategies, pre-service training is OVER!

Our “swearing-in” ceremony is Wednesday mid-day, then we move into our house later that afternoon. We toured our house today and met our landlord; it’s small, has one bedroom, a big bath (with sink!), and a square living room/kitchen. The really good news is that it features ceramic tile floors throughout, a rarity in Tonga, and looks to be in good shape. We have a big covered front porch which will likely be a favorite hangout spot. And it comes with a few pieces of decent furniture. The bad news is it comes with no appliances (typical for Tonga).

So, of course, our next task was to start shopping. The first items were cleaning supplies (Kathy is determined to keep the cockroaches, rats, and other assorted pests at bay). The next items were appliances, including sitou (stove), ‘aisi (refrigerator), i (fan), tipoti (electric teapot for heating water for drinking), and a toaster oven. We also signed up for internet service, which is being offered now until December 15 with no hook-up charge, normally about $150. So we’ll be pretty much set with the necessary basics when we move in. We’ll hit the local Saturday flea markets tomorrow and see what we find for kitchenware, etc. Basically a good excuse to check out our bicycles (purchased from a couple who have finished their service) and start getting to know our new home town.

This evening we enjoyed a collaborative dinner with several of our Peace Corps colleagues. Using fresh ingredients from the local markets we created a variety of tasty dishes, including a Filipino dish called pinak-bet, sunomono ( a marinated cucumber salad), a Japanese appetizer made with spinach and sesame seeds, and a lovely fresh fruit salad made with the glorious Tongan faina (pineapple). By candlelight, we shared stories of our individual world travels—from Russia (with love?) to the Amazon to Africa to Cambodia to Japan to Greece to Jordan, we covered the world, well, except for Antarctica. No doubt, one of our number will trek to the frozen continent (koniteniti) before long.

Most of the young trainees are dressing up and heading out for a night at the “Billfish,” a local club. Me, I’m having a beer then heading to bed. I plan to sleep very well.

6 'O Tisema

Our training is nearing its end. On Friday morning we said our goodbye to our host family and moved down the road to Pangai, the biggest town in Ha’apai, to spend the weekend with Kate and Brett, volunteers finishing up their first year. This phase of training is called attachment, our opportunity to experience volunteer life and to have the opportunity to learn from their experience. We are enjoying the break from the intensity of the training. We also appreciate the time with Kate and Brett to learn some useful stuff about how to set up a house, how to make things work, manage the creepie crawlies, and do some creative cooking. They post regularly to their blog (asleson.blogspot.com) and have helped me learn more about how to manage photos, links, etc. And we’ve done some playing; more on that later.

Our last week in Faleloa with our host family had its moments. Our host father had traveled to Nuku’alofa the week before to gather materials to improve the church facilities for Christmas, and the project began in earnest bright and early Monday morning. The church was emptied of furniture, the gaping hole in the ceiling was quickly sheet rocked, and the entire interior painted by an energetic crew of male parishioners, mostly the young men.

At the same time, the women of the family began a thorough organization and cleaning project of our house. This house of chaos was transformed over the course of two days into one of order and relative cleanliness. Even the shower room, which now features a neat little table for the soap and shampoo, received a thorough clean-up and scrubbing.

I’ve noted previously that most of the homes we and our fellow trainees are experiencing have rudimentary sanitation facilities. While we do have an indoor toilet, it rarely gets cleaned (Kathy has taken it upon herself to correct this problem). There is no sink for washing hands and brushing teeth, etc. For drinking water we must boil water from the sima vai (rain water cistern) so we don’t get puke (sick). We’ve had to develop some elaborate routines for accomplishing the most basic tasks, like tooth brushing and hand washing. It has been very troubling to us that these cleanliness issues seem lost on our family, despite our attempts to help educate them. (In October, the Peace Corps had an international hand-washing day, and volunteers around the world, including here in Tonga, provided education of school children and others on the importance of hand washing and how to do it.

There has been no visible impact of that message here. And the biggest cause of death of young children in third world countries like Tonga is diarrhea/dehydration and respiratory infection, both of which can be significantly controlled through improved hand washing and related sanitary practices.)

So we were literally flabbergasted to see our house transformed. Even the kitchen floor was thoroughly swept, washed, and the torn carpeti (a kind of flimsy vinyl laid loosely on floors) replaced. Why all this effort? It turns out the head minister of the Uesiliani churches and group of other minister’s wives were going to be touring all the homes of the island’s faifekaus starting Wednesday, so it was clear that everything possible was going to be done to give a good impression . The church paint crew moved to the house on Tuesday and painted the filthy kitchen walls (without any surface prep) and the hallways a nice sky blue, then turned their attention to painting the exterior.

The crowning touch to all this effort occurred Wednesday morning. As we often do, Kathy and I walked the mile or so to Sandy Beach starting about 6 a.m. On the way out we were passed by the minister and one of his sons in a borrowed flatbed on their way to the ngoue’anga (their garden plot in the bush). When we returned an hour later, we were amazed to see two big banana trees flanking the entrance to our yard. Another trip to the bush produced several more trees which were planted to create a pretty tree lined entrance for the house.

Later that morning after language class we returned to the house and the inspection group was being entertained in the kitchen with big plates of food. After they left, the newly planted trees were chopped down. In Tonga, this kind of effort to create a good impression is greatly appreciated; while the entire effort seems to these Western sensibilities to by hugely hypocritical, it’s apparently absolutely normal behavior here.

The other major event of the day was the papakiu (barbeque) the church organized as a farewell to the group of Peace Corps trainees the community has hosted the last two months. Food prepared by the church families started arriving around 7 p.m. and was placed on a long row of tables that had been set up in the church meeting hall. The food was arrayed on paper plates and wrapped in plastic wrap. The typical plate was mostly bread of various kinds, maybe a hunk of some root crop or another, a few plates had a piece of chicken and a hot dog or two and maybe a hard boiled egg. Lots of food, but very little protein and not a vegetable in sight. There were pitchers of sweet punch and some pots of some kind of really good sweet tea. The village elders created a space in the corner for their kava circle and prepared some kava while everyone waited until the last of the food arrived from the families. Our fa’e (host family mother) led the children in some songs, and Kathy helped with a couple songs she taught the kids during her practice teaching (which was at the school in our village). By 7:30 the food was ready, the faifekau (minister, our host father) did the obligatory prayer and everyone dug in.

Tongans have what is to us a curious way of eating. There is no silverware or napkins of any kind on the table. People unwrap a plate close to them, eat what they want from it, pass it on to a neighbor or wrap it back up and then sample from another plate. As guests of honor, various plates are passed to us. I had a couple pieces of chicken, a couple hardboiled eggs, and a little puteni (sweet bread).

Soon after the eating began, the speeches started. One of the first to speak was our host family mother, who spoke in English some of the time (her English is better than average) and gave a heartfelt and tearful appreciation for our visit. Our fellow trainee Siua (Joshua) gave the obligatory fakemalo (thank you speech) on behalf of all of us; earlier that day he had help from us and especially our language teacher on just what he should say, and he did admirably.

The speech making was over when the makaui (talking chief for the noble who owns the village) ended his speech. The retired faifekau gave a closing prayer, then (to my great surprise) asked me to end the feast with a prayer. I was grateful for the opportunity. I basically said that while we PC come from a country rich in material possessions, we have a lot to learn about the true richness of the Tongan culture that values ceremony, family, church, and respect above all else, and how grateful we are to have the opportunity to live and work among them.

After the feast I joined the kava circle with several other male trainees, and two of our female colleagues acted as toua (young unmarried woman who mix and serve the kava). I sat next to my host father, and had a good time for a few hours. Although I left around 10 p.m. the fiekava went on until about 3 a.m., and my host father, as usual, stayed the entire time.

On Thursday Kathy tried to organize a picnic with our host family at Sandy Beach. Several of the other trainees’ families were doing the same thing. We were only successful in getting our 3 youngest “sisters” to join us, and we ended up having a marvelous time. We literally opened their eyes to the undersea world in their backyard by teaching them how to snorkel, and they absolutely loved it. There are numerous coral heads just off the beach that are easily accessible that feature a nice variety of coral and reef fish, and the girls were amazed by the beauty of it all.

The day was marred somewhat by two near drownings. Tongan families tend to be very lackadaisical in the supervision of their children and the majority of parents do not know how to swim. The kids, however, love to play in the water, but because of the lack of supervision they know little about how to play safely. Several of our colleagues helped rescue children who had been held under the water by rambunctious playmates or had gotten out over their heads. The disturbing fact is that the parents, once they were aware of what had happened, only laughed.

Our day concluded with a family dinner quasi-American style. Kathy set the table with plates and silverware along with a vase of flowers for a centerpiece. We waited to start eating until everyone was present, and since the family never eats together this was no small matter. Plates of food were passed for people to serve from rather than eat directly from, and this was a bit strange as well. But each person said a little thank you speech to us, each one concluding with a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Both parents said their thank you as well, which included apologies for the behavior of the children and the poor quality of the food (other trainees reported their thank yous also had the same kind of apologies.) Kathy and I then both said our thank yous for the love and hospitality they had shown us, as well as some specific comments for each member of the family.

On Friday we left our homestay with promises to stay in touch, which we fully intend to do.

29 ‘o Novema:

It’s Sunday evening and Thanksgiving weekend is almost over. In my former life this was usually a time to kick back, spend some good time with friends and/or family, maybe travel and take Friday off and have a four day weekend. It always marked the true beginning of holiday time. I remember vividly last Thanksgiving. I took Wednesday off and we traveled to Seattle for our first interview for the Peace Corps. Then on to a few days with Kathy’s sister and family on Whidbey Island, then to a visit with cousin Norma and Dale Hanberg in Edmonds. As it turns out this was our last time with Dale, who died a few months later at the age of 80. Dale and Norma were my family away from home during my college years, always welcoming, willing to lend me a car for a big date or be the place for Thanksgiving dinner if I couldn’t make it home or to watch a big football game. Dale was the very model of the guy we all wanted to live near because if anything needed fixing in our house he would be the one to hear about it and then show up on your doorstep with the tools to fix it. Everybody loved him, especially his numerous grandchildren, now mostly in their 20’s, all who were enriched because of his generous and caring nature. His favorite excuse for a road trip was to go help a grandkid with some project or another, or just to go take them out to dinner.

Well this year was totally different. I had to teach on Thanksgiving Day, which turned out to be my last day of practice teaching. As I mentioned in my last post, we had a big Thanksgiving dinner, and it was wonderful. Kathy’s pumpkin pies turned out great, we had turkey and mashed potatoes and dressing and green bean casserole and a bunch of other stuff. We ate the turkeys Tongan style, which means they weren’t carved, but rather we all served ourselves by literally tearing off chunks of what we wanted. As my mother is fond of saying, it was interesting. We all had a very nice time.

But Thanksgiving means nothing to Tongans. We tried to explain what the holiday meant; one of the trainees is from Plymouth and she told the story of the first Thanksgiving. But in a country where the culture expects a big feast for any old good reason the meaning as we know it is difficult to grasp.

We’ve been in our homestay for almost two months now, and next Friday we’ll be leaving. It’s been a decidedly mixed experience. We are most anxious now to finish up with our training and finally settle into our own place. Living in a 1200 sq. ft. house (+ outdoor facilities) with a family of 9 has been a challenge.

The family and the church are the twin hubs around which life revolves here. And because we are with a minister’s family we probably feel the church aspect more than many. However, this small village of maybe 500 people has 7, yes 7, churches (1 Siasi Uesiliana/Wesleyan, 4 varieties of the Siasi Tonga/ Church of Tonga, Mamonga/Mormon, and Aho Fitu/7th Day Adventist), all of which have multiple services on Sunday and early morning prayer services throughout the week. All of these services are preceded by bell ringing and drum beating (the Church of Tonga beats a “drum” made from a hollow tree trunk), beginning some mornings at 4:30 a.m. Why the bell ringing and drum beating you might ask? It’s absolutely necessary in a village where most homes do not have a clock. At our church on Sunday, the first set of bells rings at 5:00 a.m. for the prayer service. For the main service, the bells start at 9:00 a.m., reminding you that you have an hour to prepare for church. Then, again at 9:30 a.m. and 9:45 a.m. The final bells ring at 9:55 a.m., essentially proclaiming that you’d better get yourself to church!

“Our” church is the biggest in Tonga, Wesleyan Methodist. The curious amalgam of Tongan culture and fundamental Methodism is rooted in the theology of salvation, with constant attention to living a life of service and piety. But as is the case everywhere, humans will be humans, and we see significant problem behavior in our home stay families stemming from a parenting style emphasizing compliance and adherence to prescribed roles.

We have attended church every Sunday since we’ve been here, always the main 10 a.m. Sunday service. While we can understand little, we are usually able to have a hymnal and can sometimes sing along, although most of the songs are unfamiliar. We have been involved in a few services; Kathy has done the English Bible reading, and I have read a Tongan hymn or two. Tongans have someone read each verse, then it is sung by the congregation, then the next verse is read. This has been fun for me and has helped with my Tongan pronunciation, and I haven’t heard anybody actually laugh during my readings.

Kathy had been promoting the idea that we should sing a song in church with the girls (all four) of our host family. While all involved thought this was a great idea, getting them organized to actually do something was impossible. She finally told them that if this was going to happen it would have to be today, as this was our last Sunday here. We all decided to do “Silent Night” in English, with me providing guitar accompaniment. (I should note here that in Tongan churches there is usually no instrumental music of any kind; all singing is a capella.) We had our first “rehearsal” Friday night with three of the girls, but the oldest daughter was in a foul mood and everyone was distracted by the video game the boys were playing on a computer borrowed from a friend, so little progress was made. A subsequent rehearsal Saturday evening went a little better; we made sure there were no distractions, and we were having some success teaching the concept that some singing could be done at something less than full volume and with attention to creating a blend (not the usual Ha’apai singing style). Then our host father, the minister, decided that the boys (twin 17 year olds) had to sing, too, so at the last minute they joined our group, not very willingly (although it should be noted that they have the best voices in the family, by far). The youngest girl, Sofaia, has a sweet soprano voice, but is generally bullied around by her sisters, but Kathy wanted her to sing the first verse solo, then have everyone join in for verses 2 and 3. Having the oldest daughter keep her hands to herself instead of pulling her kid sister’s hair or otherwise punching her proved impossible. Nevertheless, we persevered. Kathy insisted on a uniform appearance for our ensemble which sent the household into a bit of a frenzy trying to find clean white shirts and black skirts for everyone. However, I must say we ended up looking pretty good, and our performance was just about as good as we could expect. Not a bad way to end our Faleloa church going experience.

October 20, 6:30 p.m.

Day 2 of Week 2 of our training in Faleloa. The weather is great, warm, mostly sunny, not too humid. Today in language training we started learning some basic grammar, so it doesn’t feel like we’re just memorizing words and phrases and starting to learn how to put our thoughts into sentences. Hard work, but with some organization the language is starting to make more sense.

Tomorrow begins our introduction to the schools, and I will be going to Ha’apai High School to observe some classes tomorrow morning. More on that in my next post.

Yesterday we took the afternoon for our “trainee directed activity” session and walked out to Sandy Beach, where I did a little snorkeling for the first time on the reef. Absolutely gorgeous, many typical reef fish, lots of coral. I’m definitely looking forward to doing more of this when we have free time. Mostly we sat in the shade and prepared for our cross cultural session today and started planning our activities for culture day. More on that, too, in a later post, although later this evening I’m told we have our first dance practice, led by the fa’e, our host mothers. It’s a sitting dance involving both men and women.

Various of us PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) have had bouts of sickness. Themost serious was one of our Faleloa women who apparently suffered a bout of heat exhaustion and had to go to the hospital early this morning to get some treatment including intravenous fluids. We are keeping our Peace Corps Medical Officer very busy, and she is not getting much sleep.

8:45 p.m. Another frustration related to Tongan planning. After discovering that our planned dance practice could not be held at the town hall due to a previously scheduled youth meeting, we heard several different ideas about where it would be held, and ended up being directed to go to the makelui’s house. We arrived and were greeted pleasantly by the makelui, his wife, and the fellow PCT residing there, all of whom knew nothing about a dance practice. So we headed back home; soon after we arrived a young boy arrived to tell us to go the makelui’s house for dance practice. I’ve retired to my room to regain some perspective and finish this entry.

Have I described Faleloa yet? This is the northernmost village on Foa, which is connected to the main Ha’apai island of Lifuki by a causeway. I would guess there are maybe 500 or 600 people here, three or four small stores operated basically out of homes, 5 churches (Wesleyan, 3 Churches of Tonga of various identities, and a big Mormon Church), a small wharf which supports the local fishing and a taxi service to the island of Ha’ano, and a primary school. About a mile north on the Northern end of Foa are two small resorts and the lovely beach I’ve described earlier. Aside from the Mormon Church grounds and maybe two or three fairly nice homes roughly comparable to ‘50s ranchers most homes appear to be quite rundown and poorly maintained. The lack of supplies, parts, and any kind of reliable outside support makes maintenance and upkeep difficult. For example, since the ferry Princess Ashika sank in August there has been no one willing to transport propane to the island, so any home (which is most of them) that relies on propane to power their stoves and ranges has not been able to use them. All the cooking in our house occurs on an open fire outside or in an electric skillet.

Our first weekend in Faleloa included a Saturday with a few frustrations and a typical Tongan Sunday made a bit interesting since our host family is the Wesleyan Church’s Faifekau (Minister). We wanted our Saturday to be a leisurely morning/early afternoon in Pangai, the only town in Ha’apai with an internet café and ice cream, so that we could check e-mail and post to the blog. We had attempted to find out if the local “bus” that runs from Faleloa to Pangai every day, primarily – but not exclusively – to transport kids to the secondary schools in Pangai, would be running on Saturday; however, no one seemed to have a clear idea about that. So our host father said he would take us in, but when we told him all nine of us PCTs were going he wasn’t sure what to do. We assured him that we would just start walking (it’s about 8 miles) and that we were sure someone we knew would come along and give us a ride. However that certainly did not settle the issue as far as he was concerned.

So our group started out around 8 a.m. walking, and about a mile down the road we were offered a ride with some Faleloa fisherman which we gladly accepted. We arrived safely, gave the driver a few pa’anga for gas, and got to work at the internet café. We soon learned that our host father had borrowed a 4-Runner from someone in the congregation and followed us to make sure we would arrive safe and to give us a ride home. So much for our leisurely Saturday! Because he was anxious we cut our planned four hour or so visit in Pangai down to two hours and headed back to Faleloa.

The rest of Saturday was spent working on our homework assignments (charting our host family’s family tree and created a map of Faleloa) and getting ready for a tutoring session we thought we had set up with our host family daughter and several of her friends who have an important exam coming up which will determine whether or not they can go on to university studies. But we learned that there was an important church service involving the youth that she needed to attend and there was no mention whatsoever of the class we thought we had set up.

A Tongan trait that is very difficult for us palangi to deal with is that a Tongan feels it is impolite to not answer a question, even if they do not know the answer. So they will give you an answer even if they know it is wrong. I suspect our host family “sister” was willing to say yes to our suggestion to have the class on Saturday afternoon, because that was what we proposed and it would have been impolite to not agree. We have been taught to ask open-ended questions; we should have asked her when she and her friends would like to have the class and then worked from there. Lesson learned.

So we just had to hike the mile or so up the road to the North end of our island (Foa) and spend some time at one of the prettiest beaches you would ever want to see. Oh well.

Sunday: Sunday begins with a service at 5:30 am; we did not attend. After that service the family begins the cooking in the umu (earth oven) for the mid-day meal and then gets ready for the main service that begins at 10. Kathy’s dress was deemed totally unacceptable (she had been asked to do the English Bible reading, and the family wanted her to be totally appropriate) so a brightly colored dress was produced for her to wear. She was also provided her first ta’ovala (decorated woven mat worn around the waist) to wear with it. And I was also provided a special ta’ovala to wear as well. It was clear the family wanted us to represent them very well.

Host father fiefekau Mekulio also consulted with us about his sermon for the day. He was using a passage from Mark 10 in which James and John were asking Jesus to promise them they could sit with him in heaven; Jesus tells them he can promise no such thing, “You don’t know what you are asking for. Can you drink the cup of suffering I must drink?” Mekulio is struggling to find a good English phrase to use as the theme for his talk, which he wants to be about making choices to not use drugs or alcohol or engage in adultery, and he is trying to say something like “you ask for enough?” After reading the passage, these noted biblical scholars (forgive us Bob Webb) suggest he try the phrase “Be careful what you ask for” and the palangis in the audience would get his drift.

The service went very well, and since it was 99% in Tongan we had little involvement in the prayers and messages (except the occasional “Be careful what you ask for” in the sermon with Mekulio’s booming voice). Host mother Makalesi did provide us with a hymnal, so were able to join in the singing; that was fun. The singing in these churches on Ha’apai is full voice, shape note style singing, so it is more boisterous than beautiful. And everyone sings in harmony, more or less.

After church we took some photos of everyone in their finery before the big meal, which featured three different kinds of lu, a dish of meat and a few vegetables wrapped in banana leaves; octopus and eel (Kathy’s first experience with either) which were quite tasty.

The three things Tongans do on Sunday are go to church, eat, and sleep. After the mid-day meal most everyone had a pretty good sleep. Not a bad way to spend the day.

Yesterday (Thursday) we spent the day involved in a massive Ha’apai island project organized by a Kiwi (New Zealand) group named Sustainable Coastlines. The overall objective of the project is to raise awareness of the need for Tonga to create a waste management program that will eliminate—or at least reduce the amount—of waste that is burned in backyard fire pits or just thrown in the ocean.

The project involved organizing island residents to spend the day picking up trash in their communities and then transporting it to Pangai for later transport to Tongatapu in containers. Our Peace Corps group was actively involved in the day’s work, and one of the PCVs working here has been peripherally involved with the Kiwis as much of the preparation for the clean-up involved educating school children on the island of the importance of waste management in protecting the environment and some of the environmental issues associated with the current practices. Kathy and I spent the morning picking up trash around our neighborhood in Faleloa, and it appeared that most of the community was involved in some way or another. There had been a lot of publicity for the day; trucks had been organized for transporting the collected trash, the school children all participated, and the various teams were led by local youth group members. The Town Officer (roughly equivalent to the Mayor) was heard early this morning announcing the project by shouting from his front yard. Of course, this being Tonga, there were problems with trucks breaking down, a shortage of gasoline on the island, not enough trash bags in communities where participation turned out to be much bigger than anticipated, and other logistical issues complicated by the lack or readily available resources to deal with any unplanned for exigencies. However, it is estimated that 3200 people participating, exceeding the organizers' expectations.

Today as part of our training program we heard from the two primary organizers of Sustainable Coastlines. Sam and Emilie told of the history of their organization and how they came to Ha’apai (see their website at sustainablecoastlines.com) They were extremely articulate and passionate about their work, and they have worked very hard to learn how to set up a successful project in Tonga through meeting with and gaining the cooperation of a host of government officials, nobles who control the villages, other affected NGOs, Tonga education officials and local schools, youth organizations, and sponsors. It was very impressive how well they have tried to make sure that the project has all the buy-in they could possibly create. One of the perspectives they share is how prevalent plastics have become in the waste stream, whereas 30 years ago there was virtually no plastic in Tonga, especially in the form of plastic bags, bottles, wrappers. The burning of these materials in backyard pits is very unhealthy to people and the environment, and yet there is little knowledge of these consequences. And there is no ready resource for recycling plastics, which makes the problem that much more difficult to manage. All in all a strong beginning to a very difficult long-term effort, and the good news they shared today was that the country’s prime minister pledged to initiate an effort to create a country-wide waste management program, so all their good work may have lit the necessary fire toward beginning the process to achieve the primary goal.

We arrived in Tonga one week ago this morning and this will be just our fourth night in our home stay, but it feels like we’ve been here much longer. This has much to do with the adjustments we’ve had to make to our daily routines. Here are some reflections on what big shifts we’ve had to make.

1. Some comforts of home don’t feel so important as we acclimate to Tongan life. Cold showers are not a big deal in a tropical climate. Refrigeration is not that important when most food is consumed the day it is prepared. And what goes on in a home, the quality of the relationships and the interactions, is so much more important than the quality of the building.

2. Some comforts of home are sorely missed. Our home has no sink for washing hands and brushing teeth, and having one does not seem important to most of the families we are staying with. Hot – or at least warm – water is good for washing hair when you are a girl.

3. Regular meal times are not a part of this village’s culture. It does seem like the big meal of the day is often dinner, but sometimes it’s closer to mid-day or mid-afternoon, but it could as easily be at 9 p.m. The feast yesterday was at 3 p.m., but since most of the food was passed on to others their meals occurred somewhat later. And our family had another meal later in the evening; Kathy and I were not interested at all.

4. It’s amazing what can be prepared in an earth oven. Our host mother will be baking cakes in one tomorrow morning for the church’s youth group to sell as a fund raiser.

5. It’s great to live in a culture where your shoes are just not important at all. Life in sandals and flip-flops is just fine by me.

Tongans do not place great importance on money. They share most everything. They look out for each other and take care of someone else’s children if that is what is needed. Our host family moved here from a nearby island just two months ago; he is a Wesleyan minister and apparently the practice is to move every three years or so to a new church. As we are getting to know them we have learned that they did not bring their refrigerator with them because someone there needed one. They left their chickens with their former church, and other items were left for various other reasons, so they are living without. That’s the Tongan way.

More language training this morning, our second day of formal study. Boy is it getting confusing! With all the preparation we did with the materials sent out by the Peace Corps, the informal studying we did with our peers while at Sela’s, the attempting to talk with our host family members and learn new words and phrases, and now formal instruction. I really need to start learning some basic grammar to try to make sense of some of these phrases and how to construct some basic sentences. I’m sure that will come. In the meantime, we will be doing other things the next few days, so no more formal classes until Monday. Hopefully this weekend we can continue to practice what we have learned and dial some of it in.

This afternoon we attended a feast organized to honor the Class 6 students who completed their exit exams this week. These exams are a very big deal; success has something to do with what they will be able to do next year. The seven families involved spent all day preparing a variety of food; our family roasted four young pigs over an open fire, prepared both raw and cooked fish and a variety of other dishes. The food was transported up to the school and laid out on a long row of tables set up on the school grounds under a series of canopies. When all was ready we were invited to sit with our host family’s table, and after a long, long prayer (length of prayer is a sign of respect) from the Town Officer we were able to start eating. The table was piled high with food, including the pigs (straight off the spit, uncarved), cooked potatoes, squash, and other root vegetables wrapped in foil), various plates of food on plates or in bowls wrapped in plastic, and wedges of watermelon. One was expected to select a dish or two, eat what you wanted from it, share some with your neighbor, then rewrap the remainder and return it to the table.

Meanwhile speeches were being made, and both our host parents spoke, as well as Luseane, who is one of the students being honored, and we noticed some tears from some while she apparently gave heartfelt thanks to the families for supporting them through this time. (Luseane later told us that she knew none of her classmates would have the nerve to speak, and she thought someone from the class should.) This went on for a while, until the Town Officer made a final speech, and the feast was over. Guests were encouraged to take some food home, and the families then started giving much of what was left (feasters had eaten only a small portion of the food available) to others who were not guests at the feast. Our host family packed up the remaining food on our table and brought it back to our house. Here Mekulio oversaw the organizing of this food into about eight baskets, which were then given to the neighbors who had helped with its preparation, and several other families from his church. Much more food was distributed, including the four pigs, than was eaten at the feast. It is likely that most of that food has been consumed by now (three or four hours later). A graphic illustration of the Tonga way of sharing, and also of the Tongan propensity to live for today.

Yesterday (Monday, October 12) we flew via Chathams Pacific Convair 380 to Ha’apai for our 8 week home stay and intensive language and culture training. Just for the record, it was yet another flight with no empty seats. We were bused from the airport to Foa, an island connected to the main Ha’apai island (Lifuka) by a causeway, and then to our village of Faleloa. We met our host mother, Malekasi, her daughters Luseani (age 11) and Sofaia (9), and husband Mekulio, who is the local Wesleyan Methodist minister. They showed us around our new home and then invited us to the kitchen where the table was laid out with a variety of food prepared just for us. As is the custom in Tonga they invited us to eat first; guests are entitled to the best food before the family is allowed to eat. However, after we ate a little we encouraged the family to eat as well, and some of them did. Later we met one of their twin sons, Uluakiola (17); his brother is at college (high school) and will be home in a day or two.

These home stays serve as our initial entry into Tongan life, and there is plenty of adjustment to make. At Sela’s guest house, our home for our first four nights in Tongatapu, we had hot water and plenty of companionship with our fellow PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees); Kathy likened the experience to a living in a college dorm. Here we are on our own, in a home that wouldn’t come close to meeting any kind of building and housing code in the USA, with no hot water and the most rudimentary of bathing facilities. The village Kava circle takes place in the church meeting hall about 50 feet outside our bedroom, and a family of goats, including one baby that is being denied by its mother and therefore wants to bleat frequently through the night, is also just outside our window. Pigs and dogs everywhere. However, the family could not be kinder and is genuinely interested in getting to know us and helping us learn Tongan.

After eating we took a stroll around the village with Mekulio and on the way encountered several other PCTs doing the same. At several homes Mekulio stopped and handed out some money to the man of the house, and at one point a man in a pickup stopped to talk to him, and it seemed there was an expectation that he would be given money, so I gather this is a regular practice. I’ve been reluctant so far to inquire about this. Mekulio did share that they moved here only two months ago from another Ha’apai island North of here, and that ministers are transferred every few years.

Anyway, today, Tuesday, we had our first language lesson with our Faleloa group (8 PCTs) and we had the opportunity to share our first night’s experience in our new homes. Some involved creepy crawlies, unregulated children, and eating adventures. One thing stands out: Tongans live quite the ad hoc life style; no set bed or meal times and children are largely undisciplined (although that does not seem to be the case in our home). Many family members have no set place to sleep, and that does not appear to be much of an issue.

The most touching time for us was last evening when Mekulio invited us to a family prayer meeting in our living room. He formally welcomed us and said how pleased he was for his family to have the experience of learning from us and thanked God for bringing us to them. He became tearful while saying this as he was speaking from his heart. A scripture reading, a prayer, the family singing “Nearer My God to Thee” in full voice in Tongan, and the 23rd Psalm, also in Tongan, completed the service. It was all very touching and it was good to feel included in the family rituals.

So here we are. After a completely uneventful 13 hour flight, we arrive safe and sound to a beautiful morning in Tongatapu, Tonga. We did stop in Apia, Samoa on the way and dropped off our Samoa colleagues and witnessed a beautiful, breezy tropical island dawn as we reboarded the plane for the last leg. After touching down in Tonga and working our way through the customs and baggage claim process (also uneventful and relatively fast) we received an enthusiastic greeting from the Tonga Peace Corps staff, complete with leis (kahoe), a truck for our bags, and a school bus to take us to Sela’s Guest House, our home for the next few days while we receive our basic orientation to Peace Corps Tonga. The warmth continued after we found our rooms and gathered around for more welcome, included a song from three of the staff in three part harmony. Our first witnessing of the Tongan singing we have read so much about.

And then: we’re told everything is on hold and we must stay put here at Sela’s because a tsunami warning has been issued as a result of some big earthquakes in Vanuatu and the Cook Islands. After all the drama associated with the big Tsunami that hit Samoa just last week, with all the questions we received about whether our service would be affected, and all the uncertainty of associated with serving in dynamic seismic area, this news was a tad bit sobering. But everyone took it in stride, some games came out, and we passed the time until the warning was lifted.

So off to the Peace Corps office for our formal welcome. Such ceremonies in Tonga invariably involve a Kava ceremony. One of the Tongan Program Managers, Viliami Mafi, told us the fable associated with the Kava ceremony, and then described the process of preparing the kava. Then the kava is served to us one by one, and is the custom this task was performed by young women or girls, in this case current PCVs. After kava, some traditional dancing performed by two PCVs (three if you count Poki’s comic performance behind them), then a feast prepared by the staff where we all ate outside on the lawn amongst the palms.

I ate with Carol, currently the oldest Volunteer at age 67, who teaches computer classes at a village middle school in a village on Tongatapu about 10 miles from here. Since I thought for sure that I would be the oldest volunteer in Tonga this was great news. She’s enthusiastic and open and seems unfazed about living in a smallish village by herself. Kathy made her initial connection with Sune, a volunteer finishing her third year who has been working to develop early childhood education teacher training.

Nuku’alofa reminds us a lot of the Mexican villages we visited last December, only somewhat cleaner. Most residential streets are dirt and potholed, but the main streets have pavement in reasonably good repair. We wandered along a portion of the waterfront and through the main part of downtown, and there is only a block or two that any kind of urban feel to it. A major wharf area is undergoing massive reconstruction, there’s a park area along the waterfront, and a nice internet café/coffee bar/restaurant (“Friends”) that will undoubtedly become a favorite place if this is where we end up being placed.

All in all, a pretty good day.

Rob

We write from LAX as we wait for the flight that will take us away from most of what is familiar in our lives. We are, however, in the company of 21 other very fine mostly young people; our group is twice as many women as men, and seems representative of what I understand the typical Peace Corps group to be. A day of "staging" and getting to know each other, Peace Corps policies, discussions of anxieties and goals. Later, getting to the airport with all that entails, a little food, some last minute phone calls to loved ones before turning off the cell phone forever.

As I begin to experience these people, for the first time I can start thinking more concretely about just what life will be like with this brand new community of people, who I will be wanting to work with, and how we will be supporting each other. Until now we have been an abstract creation, just some images and cryptic postings on Facebook from some as we disentangled our old lives and prepared for the new.

Now it's all about looking forward.

Rob

Tonga calls to couple in their 50s

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Today we are featured in an article in the East Oregonian with a nice picture we took in July on the summit of Strawberry Mountain, 9.038' high point of the gorgeous Strawberry Wilderness near John Day. Thanks to a careless headline writer I lost a few years (see link), so I'm hearing about that from some astute readers!

On another note, we have received our schedule for the first few months. We'll be mostly in Ha'apai, a smaller island that's a 35 minute plane trip North from the main island of Tongatapu, learning the language, the culture, and the program, living with a host family. Looks pretty intense.

O.K., so the new laptop is cool, but there is so much crap on these things now that we have to wade through; anyone who wonders about current marketing strategies should be encouraged to buy a new, pre-configured computer. You'd think that in the 21st century technology would be easier, and in many ways it very much is, but so many people with something to sell!

So today I hear from a current Tonga PCV that the folks that seem to have the most problems with their computer are the ones (like me) that bring the brand spanking new state-of-the art laptop, while guys like him that bring the old machine they really don't care much about don't have any problems at all. Go figure.

Rob

So it's really going to happen; in 21 days we'll be on a plane to the Kingdom of Tonga for 27 months. So much to do, but it's gradually getting taken care of. We will get it done, but it will be a relief to step on the plane and begin the transformation from settled, wired-in American Baby Boomers to whatever a Peace Corps Volunteer turns out to be in Tonga.

So this is really just to set this thing up, so that's it for now. One more thing to check off the list!

Rob