"So we had a big feast one day, out of the blue. I mean, not even with any reason, just celebrating life, I thought," a friend started the story. "Then guess what! I found out later that Organization X had just received a bunch of funding from Organization Y!"

While this doesn't happen as frequently as the stories make it out to be, aid funding in Tonga is a part of life- a part that is sometimes needed, sometimes taken advantage of, sometimes in the news, and frequently misunderstood. Speaking from personal experience, it is hard to understand aid's complexities.

Road donated by China Aid, with a helpful sign: "CHINA AID" (from blog.travelpod.com)

After spending several years on the other side of the fence with cash-strapped nonprofits, always wondering about the inscrutable decisions of the funding organizations, working at my new job now has been incredibly enlightening. Suddenly, I understand. I can't speak for anything but the processes I currently work with, but here's how it's done in my job:

The first step is a country-specific Joint Commitment for Development (be prepared here, there are a lot of high-sounding titles to come). Every five or so years, the NZ Minister of Foreign Affairs has a pow-wow with Tonga's Prime Minister, and they agree on a list of major sectors on which the two countries can focus in Tonga. In NZ's case, it's energy, education, police, tourism, and small business development. Any new programme usually has to fit in one of those sectors.

Now, this isn't just a project to build a school, or community water tank, or small beans like that. These programmes are massively wide, sometimes several million dollar projects that last for three years and have joint goals with a Tongan ministry. Granting organizations usually shy away from small, individual grants for only tens of thousands of dollars: they're hard to administer, hard to evaluate, and don't often fit into a larger community development plan. In NZ's case, there's a "Head of Mission Fund" that covers small grassroots requests, but its a tiny sideline among all the other projects.

Any new programme started passes a long "design" phase, which usually includes meetings of the Nuku'alofa post (the office where I work) and the implementing partner organization (usually a government Ministry or large NGO), which prepares work plans, budgets, and descriptions.

After everybody agrees and everybody is happy, then NZ and the organization sign a Grant Funding Arrangement, or GFA. The GFA provides for around three years of funding, but not all at once- usually only a year at a time, according to the budget that the organization submitted. The organization and NZ also agree upon certain outcomes of the project: a marketing plan, recommended revised legislation, a certain database compiled, etc.

In order to get the next year's funding, the organization has to tell NZ what they've done and how much they've spent doing it.

But of course, things never go exactly as planned. It's as if you plan to start cooking a complicated recipe, so you get everything started, and everyone agrees it will make a good meal. But you need eggs. In order to buy eggs, you have to submit a plan for buying eggs for the rest of the year, which is rejected the first time you submit it. And then, the friend that was making the rice decides to go make rice for your neighbour instead. Then you turn to ask your niece for help, who was supposed to be advising you on how to make the chicken, and find out she's been away partying at a club in another town, and tells you that you should make beef instead, because this is what she learned in that other town. Finally, you ask your husband how much money everyone's spent on groceries to see if you have enough to buy beef, and find out he hasn't kept any of the receipts.

If the organization keeps NZ in the loop and keeps decent records, change usually isn't a problem; they submit a report and a new budget with any changes they want to make, and there's a variation to the original GFA contract. Any time the organization wants to significantly differ from what was agreed upon, there has to be a new variation signed with NZ, agreeing on the revised plan and revised budget. If the organization randomly spends a ton of the funding on something that wasn't in the contract, the organization usually has to return the money.

At the end of the three years, either a new programme agreement is signed and the money is rolled over, or it's closed out if everything is achieved and unspent money is returned to NZ. While NZ has some influence over the activities carried out using the grant money, it has no control over (and doesn't want control over) any of the rest of the budget not funded by NZ.

My job exists between NZ and the organization: making sure NZ gets the right reports at the right time, making sure the organization understands what the contract requires, making sure NZ understands what the organization has been doing and why. Existing in the middle can be head-spinning, but mostly very interesting. I get to see what's happening in these development projects on the ground, and do my part in helping to support them when new needs come up.

This is just a description of the cooking process. Any reflections on the tastiness of the meal will have to wait for another time.

I never thought that coming to Tonga would make me an improv comedy performer. Shortly after we moved to Tongatapu last year, I joined ON THE SPOT (OTS), a community-focused arts organization that puts on quarterly performances, offers occasional weekly sessions of film classes, performs modern dance at increasingly frequent charity events around town, and brings together a small core group of talented visual artists, musicians, dancers, and writers. After a full day of something like analyzing cash flow statements, it was a welcome relief to ride out to the old warehouse we use as a practice/performance space and dance or practice improv for three hours, twice a week.

We're all about to go to sleep onstage

I've always appreciated a creative outlet, and frequently used it- whether in designing clothes, painting, printmaking, or writing (including this blog, in fact). But I never thought I'd be an amateur improv comedian. Last month, I performed with a team for about an hour during the OTS December Stage Fright event. Stage Frights happen roughly four times a year put on by OTS members, and are themed differently for each show, whether it's dance, poetry, theatre, or, as the theme was this time, music. For this show, the first act was composed of the practiced performances- a dance by a group of kids that came to a dance workshop, an original song by a member, and other songs and dances we'd practiced throughout the last few weeks. I sang backup in two of the songs, and had my own number- a beat poem I'd written to background music.

Three lions challenge the audience

A musical interlude gives the performers a breakAct two was all musically-themed improvisation- something I never could have done last year. Several months ago, a partner organzation of OTS (in more ways than one- our creative director is engaged to theirs) from New Caledonia came to run workshops with us and in a handful of Tongan secondary schools. Called Pacifique et Compagnie, they specialize in improv, and spent the week training us and sharing their techniques. At the beginning, there were awkward silences and nervous laughter. At the end, there was a full, seamless performance and the only laughter was the appreciative hoots from the audience. Since then, we've continued to practice our improv skills, and have really enjoyed semi-spontaneous performances at various shows, including this one.

But OTS isn't all Stage Fright shows and improv.

Ebonie is the creative directorIn November, one of the members was involved in planning Tonga's first film festival (which, incidentally, we did perform improv as an audience warm-up opening number of the night). The festival was held in a school hall, which increasingly filled up as the night went on. The films ranged from the very polished shorts of the organizer to the home-filmed shaky and charming clips acted entirely by kids. Earlier in the year, several members organized a visual arts show, which was held outside on the waterfront, and one of the members spent most of the year as a crew on the kalia trip that raises environmental awareness called Pacific Voyagers.

What's even more impressive is that all of this is done with very little or no funding, embodying the prevalent reality of Tonga that if you want something to happen, you just go ahead and organize it. On the other hand, the lack of funding availability- no grants offered through the government, no local philanthropic organizations, and a public not willing or not able to pay for art or artistic performances has really limited what the group can do. Next year, we will have to face the hard reality of losing our performance space- the old warehouse is being sold- and we will have nowhere to relocate to without the operating funds to pay rent on another performance/practice space.

Three TV characters ambush a viewerNext year, other than trying to find a new space and funding for it, we'll hopefully be performing in the Pacific Arts Festival in July, a huge event held every four years that brings together arts groups from all around the Pacific, and is an explosion of colour, movement, and talent to assault the senses. Several members are also organizing a more professional night of modern dance we'll sell tickets to, and Stage Fright performances will go on as usual, bringing together crazy performances, good music, and probably, a bit of improv.

Hard-core training at "Lady Gaga camp"

As we made our way down the coast, we kept seeing wonderful people, having good conversations, and eating good food together. Our next stop was Portland...

We had nostalgic dinners with old friends - Lebanese food piled high!

... played plenty of games...

... went to plenty of bookshops and twice to our favourite four-story book heaven, Powells Books...

... and reveled in the random, artsy, and interesting culture that is Portland.

One day, we took the Max train down to Beaverton to visit my Auntie Nan, just like we had done many times while we were living in Portland

It was just like old times. We caught up with interesting conversations, cooked in her kitchen, and Mark replaced her lightbulbs.

We had a really tasty final lunch at a very Portland vegan bistro- coconut curry, tofu in peanut sauce. Good for not having meat!

When we got back, our friends had gone to another Portland favourite doughnut shop and gotten us an enourmous doughnut with TONGA!! written on it.

It was just as much of an attraction to visit the supermarkets. The downtown Whole Foods was particularly eye candy.

Our next stop was San Francisco, where we spent the first night doing more of what we love- talking and eating with old friends!

The whole SF crew was ready to hike...

... and of course, ready to have a gourmet picnic mid-hike.

Part of the fun was wandering along streets, window-shopping and talking. No window-shopping in Tonga!

After too-short a time in both Portland and San Francisco, we arrived at our last stop- LA, to visit Mark's grandma and sister.

The hills around LA are beautiful, especially if you imagine that the fog-like haze is fog, and not smog!

Mark's birthday was during our LA stint, so we ate berry pie with his grandma, sister...

... and a large gathering of his "aunties" and "uncles" from Congo.

The day before we left, we played in an ultimate frisbee tournament

Someone brought mustaches, which all the girls promptly put on for "gender confusion" of the other team!Brother and sister were happy to catch up again. As usual, the time went too fast, but was well spent.

And before we knew it, we were halfway back home to Tonga, catching up on reading and sleep on our layover in Fiji.

Tonga welcomed us with blissfully warm, sunny weather, and the usual long lines at Customs.

Being home was nice, and our little kitty was especially happy to see us, spending much of the first day we were back sitting or sleeping on us! Now we're resuming normal life, after a trip better than we could have expected. We had so much fun seeing everyone, and even though we could only spend a couple of days in each place, the time was very well-spent. We're hoping to do another trip in the next year and a half or so, to catch the people we weren't able to see this time and so that it's not another 2.5 years until we see friends and family again!

The time we were away was perfect with the Tongan schedule of life- nothing much happens between Christmas and February. It's nice to be back at home again, and we look forward to next time.

The Christmas tree is all decked outHappy two-thousand-twelve-tacular from the frigid and beautiful Northwest US. For the last week and a half, we've been on a long-awaited trip to visit our families and friends in the US, after not being back for almost two and a half years. The Washington state part of our trip is over and we're heading South to see a lot more people before we come back to Tonga.

In this case, pictures will be more interesting than the inevitably long description that everything we've done would necessitate, so here's a short show of some of the highlights.

Our trip takes us down the West coast of the US, where both of our sets of relatives are scattered.

The Christmas dinner theme was Greco-Mexican-Chinese, much enjoyed by my many international family members. My dad makes sure his Chinese noodle dish turned out OK. It did.

In Tonga, many people mistakenly think that foreigners don't eat very much. We aren't sure where this ridiculous notion came from, and do our best to disprove it at every chance possible.

After Christmas day, a group of my familly rented a beach house on the Washington coast, and had a lot of fun playing games by the fire. This game is from the 40s and is a precursor to "Clue," called "Mr. Ree." An old family favourite.

This is not the kind of warm beach we have in Tonga, though. It's hilly, grassy sand dunes all the way out to the breaking Pacific waves. Too cold for snorkeling!

We all took turns decorating parts of a gingerbread house, a common Christmas tradition in the US and a few other parts of the world. Since we had curved candied bananas, we stuck them on either end of the roof and made a horned Scandanavian house. Or a Fijian house, depending on how you looked at it.Every single person in the family is a good cook, so we ate well. Mark and I made a Tongan meal- lu (meat wrapped in taro leaves cooked in coconut milk- this time with kale leaves), ota ika (marinated raw fish in coconut milk, veggies, and lemon juice), and sweet potato.

We also went for some minimal shopping- to an antique warehouse, where we marvelled at the old games, pictures, and kitchen things.

We both had a great time hanging out with my brother, who has moved from where he grew up in Brazil to start going to university in Washington.

After we got back from the beach, Mark and I took the ferry over to Seattle - huge and spacious compared to the ferries in Tonga!

We met our friends Shannon and Paul in Seattle, and walked around our favourite marketplace in the city- Pike Place Market.It's full of all sorts of produce, fresh flowers, jewellery, clothing, and always makes me feel right at home.

One of our first stops was the tea shop. This whole wall is full of jars of different kinds of loose leaf tea.

There are all sorts of little eateries there too- this one's called Piroshky Piroshky and is a long-time staple of Pike Place Market, with all of its tasty pastries filled with meats, cheeses, salmon, veggies, and even a huge section of sweet pastries as well.

But we had to get our sweet pastries at another bakery right down the street.

After a delicious New Years Eve meal in the city, we walked to a park nearby their house to watch a huge fireworks show lit off from Seattle's iconic Space Needle.

The next day, we met back up with my family in Pioneer Square and took the Underground Tour of Seattle.

Seattle used to be a good 4 metres lower than it currently is, but becuase everything was at sea level, they had massive sewage and tidal flooding problems. To solve it, the city built up the streets to the second level of all the buildings, leaving a network of underground walkways and shops that are no longer in use. It was like walking through caves below the ciy.

That evening, we had a big family party at another side of my family's house in Seattle. Because that side of the family is Greek, at the end of the meal, we observed the Greek tradition of cutting two loaves of bread that had a dime baked into each of them. Whoever gets the dime is lucky for the whole year!

Since Mark's and my mom's birthday (on the same day) is after we'll already be gone, we spent the next day in birthday celebrations- a fun walk around our favourite local waterside park.

And a delicious family meal that evening, followed by cake and ice cream later with my aunts and uncles and grandfather.And currently, we're on the train south, writing this very post!

Our Christmas wreath at homeIt's Christmastime, which in Tonga, means it's very, very hot. Anything of value happens very early in the morning, very late at night, or in blasting air-conditioning. Most offices do have air con, including mine, which makes moving in or out of the building somewhat like stepping into a totally different climate as I'm hit with a wall of humid hot air or a blast of arctic chill in the doorway.

Christmas in Tonga is also blissfully lacking in the commercialization that bombards residents in the US and many other countries, and while I would love to see the streets and shops decorated for Christmas, it's also nice to have less commercial pressure. Instead in Tonga, as one would expect, we have feasts. This year we'll miss the three-day Catholic feast we're invited to because we'll be visiting family and friends in the US for the first time in over two years, but we did get to celebrate a Christmas opening of the new Fua'amotu church with friends yesterday.

The Wesleyan church at Fua'amotu is especially important because the current king's late father, Tupou IV, considered it his church, and regularly visited it with Queen Mata'aho while he was the reigning monarch. In addition, the town of Fua'amotu is the property and residence of Prince Tungi, a title that was held by the same monarch during his life, and is now held by the current king's nephew.

Everything was set out at Sina's -

this was only one table of manyConsidering the intense heat of the current season, we inexplicably decided to bike out to the town, which is about an hour's cycle to the Eastern end of the island. We arrived, hot and sweaty, to one of the family houses of our friends Sina and Monta, and greeted everyone rushing around preparing for the inclement feast. They graciously welcomed us, and chatted awkwardly for several minutes, until we realized we were at the wrong house and that Sina was actually in the house several hundred feet up the road - we'd arrived totally unannounced at her cousins' place! We laughed and thanked them, especially for a delicious sticky pudding they fed us, and walked up the road to the right house.

By the time everything got sorted out, the proper church opening ceremony was already half-over, and after having been to our share of ceremonies, we elected to stay and help Sina and her sister and various relatives prepare for the feast.

Everyone had been preparing and dishing up food long before we arrivedWe always shamelessly love eating at her family's table at feasts because they're such excellent cooks, a fact that I was reminded of as I sliced perfectly tender and delectably seasoned slices of turkey off a juicy, golden-brown bird. When we ate at her table during the Wesleyan conference in July, we discovered with delight that she'd stuffed each suckling pig with the best stuffing we'd ever tasted. She used the same stuffing this time, which of course, I had to pre-taste for quality control.

The kids played checkers with rocks on an old boardEvery dish had to be served out, plastic-wrapped, and stacked in huge plastic containers to take to the feast grounds, which were a few kilometres away in a big sports field. We all hopped in different cars at around noon, feeling like we needed our third shower of the day, and headed out to the field, which was already buzzing with cars and people, sweating at tables under black tarpaulin tents.

We listened to Justin Beiber, that song that repeats "like a G-6," and

other pop tunes on an ipod speaker set while we preparedAfter everyone had piled their respective tables with food, we set to it, and were entertained by the long string of requisite gifts given to the church and to Prince Tungi, who was present with his grandmother, Queen Mata'aho at the celebration. The best part, by far, was seeing Prince Tungi, who is in his late teens, dancing in the middle of the field, surrounded by women- women dancing behind him, rolling around in front of him, and crawling around in laughing glee at his feet.

Prince Tungi in light green, surrounded by dancing womenOh but it was hot. As I sat at the long benches under the tents, I felt sweat dripping down my legs, and watched as Mark and the other people at the table wilted in the midday heat, hands propping up heads, hair sticking to faces. I found an aluminum pot lid, which I used to stir a hot breeze onto myself and the people around me.

A lot of people came back from overseas for this church opening, many of them with matching outfits

After almost three hours, the gifts and dances were still coming steadily, and as we had friends to see off to the airport and practices for a performance I'm in this week, we made our apologies to Sina, who looked as if she'd rather be sitting under a fan herself, and caught a ride with her brother back to the house to pick up our bikes. Despite the heat, we'd had a great time, and were glad to have been a part of it.

We elected to bike back rather than tossing our bikes in the back of a truck, because, aside being desperate for the feel of wind on our faces, we remembered the last time we'd biked back from Fua'amotu being a pleasant, easy ride of less than an hour. This time, after more than an hour of biking into a strong headwind, the hot air giving barely any relief to the heat that had refused to subside even at 4pm, we thoroughly regretted the decision. We arrived back at home, and each of us took ten minutes of standing under a cold shower to cool down again, holding glasses of ice water to our faces, and saying our dizzy and out-of-breath goodbyes to our friend John, who was leaving for the States that afternoon.

Occasionally, the song "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas" comes on the radio among the repetitions of the re-mixed favourite "Mary's boy child." In this heat, we stick our heads in the freezer and dream.

Elena's new officeAs the title suggests, Monday the 5th of December was a Tongan public holidayin celebration of the birthday of the first king of Tonga, Tupou I, so most ofTonga went to the beach or took some other form of relaxation. Elena did notget day because the New Zealand High Commission works through most localholidays, but it was still a relaxingly slow day for her after two weeks ofbreakneck job training. For me, it was a welcome respite from the busy last twoweeks spent preparing documents for my visa and preparing for my close ofservice with Peace Corps. So what’s left to do in order to properly wrap up mywork with the Free Wesleyan Church schools? In a nutshell, I have to make surethat I’m no longer a necessary element in both helping the schools adopt newcomputer systems, and providing procurement, maintenance, and repair support from TupouTertiary Institute.

A thin client workstation at my officeOver the past 17 months, I’ve been working at theheadquarters for the Free Wesleyan Church schools finding and implementing asolution to consistently providing enough computers for all students in thesystem. Many of the high schools have computers, but not even close to enoughfor the number of students who need to take computer classes; this forcesstudents to double or triple up on one computer, if they are lucky. Thisbecomes a major issue when a class has more than 60 students and only 7 computers,and has led to cases where some students never touch a computer during a yearof computer classes. While this is an extreme case, it’s seen in schools allover Tonga.

Setting up thin clients at a schoolSo how do institutions with limited resources provide enoughcomputers for their needs in a tropical environment hostile to electronics? Inthe case of Tonga, another volunteer from my Peace Corps intake group came upwith an answer for his school in the form of NComputing’s thin clients. Thesesystems allow you to take any average modern desktop computer and expand it sothat between 2 and 100 people can all use it at the same time, each sitting attheir own screens, with their own keyboards and mice (the two different models that we use are the L300 and X550). Even though every user isusing the same computer at the same time as the other users, it functions as ifeach user is at their own individual computer. The devices are at least halfthe cost of a conventional computer, use around 1% of the electricity, and haveno moving parts, so they last over 5 years in our dusty, hot, humid climate. What's even cooler is that because they last longer and are just slightly larger than a digital camera, they amount to a drastic decrease in the amount of electronic waste that is produced. Inshort, they are ideal for the schools here in Tonga, lasting two to three timeslonger than a conventional computer, at half the price.

Thin clients plug right inSo we’d found the ‘what’ to the solution, leaving the ‘how;’after pitching the idea to Samiuela Fonua, the Dean of Academic Support at Tupou Tertiary Institute (TTI, one of the few post-secondary education schools inTonga), he decided to run a pilot installation of these devices at that school.TTI also has a small offshoot computer business, Sia Computer, which is wellplaced to be the primary service provider for all the schools, which enteredinto our decision. The devices have worked well ever since their installationthere over a year ago, prompting us to order more for the school andwhole-heartedly recommend them for other schools both within and outside of theFree Wesleyan Church.

An integral part of this process was developing ourrelationship with the supplier in Australia, which has allowed Sia Computer atTTI to become the official agent for NComputing in Tonga. This offers theopportunity to kill two birds with one stone: Sia Computer desperately needsmore business, and the Wesleyan schools get access to these devices at adiscount. While the business is still in its infancy, if Sia Computer issuccessful at developing the market in Tonga for these devices, it will be anenormous boost to them.

Thin clients mount on the back of the monitor out of the wayIdeally, if I could wave a wand and make everything immediately fall into place, Sia Computer would name a marketing and sales director, as well as identify a leader to take over as manager. These two people would work out a service contract they could offer clients, including the Free Wesleyan Schools, and then capitalise on their relationships with school-mates, former colleagues, and friends to promote these thin clients. Then on the Free Wesleyan Church school's side, a comprehensive plan on how to procureas well as maintain and repair computers would guide them in these areas that currently are dealt with haphazardly. Each school principal currently has to figure things out on his or her own instead of taking advantage of the buying power of the larger organization they belong to.

Obviously, this is a simplistic sketch of the process that needs to take place, but in the next week and a half, I hope that I will have pushed them in the right direction so that one day this can become a reality. And while I don't often think about my legacy, the best possible outcome would be that the Free Wesleyan Schools would have computers that they could rely on, and that Sia Computer at TTI would be an integral and genuinely useful part of this.

After the application process was all over, I calculated that I had spent over 30 hours preparing for this one application and interview. By the time I finished the two-hour interview and practical test process, I knew all the preparation was worth it: my rehearsed answers gave me confidence but all flew out the window as I laughed and chatted with the interview panel, and actually enjoyed the practical test.

When I got the formal offer, Mark and I dropped everything and ran around the local stadium to work off the adrenaline.

For the last month, I've been slowly transitioning from work at TDB, closing out Peace Corps service, and preparing for our next year in Tonga. It's been a good process; although it involved pages and pages of forms to fill out and others to sign; pictures, medical, and police records for the visa process; it also included beautiful good-bye parties and ending Peace Corps ceremonies.

Mark has all this to look forward to in less than a month. He's just accepted an offer as the IT manager for 'Uta'atu and Associates, a well-respected management consulting firm here. This time, we weren't at home with the luxury of running to the stadium, so we jumped and yelled instead, in a corner at a friend's birthday celebration.

Today was my first day as (ready for the mouthful?) a Development Programme Coordinator for the New Zealand Aid Programme through the New Zealand High Commission-Tonga. The nervousness of a first day was offset by the fact that I wasn't walking in to a roomful of strangers. I actually knew most of the staff already, Tonga being as small as it is, and the prospect of working with who I knew to be great people had played some part in my decision to accept the job offer. I strolled in at 8:20, and started the day right with a fresh cup of local coffee and a chat with a coworker.

The rest of the day was basic introduction to the necessary office admin, and more interestingly, some of the programmes I'll be working on; mainly tourism and small business development. Other than directly supporting tourism, a lot of that work is also related to culture in development, heritage sites, handicrafts, marketing, and a handful of other subjects, and the small business side will deal with business training, mentoring, and SME (Small and Medium Enterprise) support.

A perfect match to what I've been doing these past two years, and a very interesting start for the time to come.

We enjoyed jokes during a speechThere were tears in my eyes for most of the morning. Mark and I sat at the head of the table in the Tonga Development Bank boardroom, festooned with fragrant loops of tropical flowers at the Bank's farewell gathering for me this morning. The table was laden with apple tarts, crust-less sandwiches, spice muffins, chocolate cake, and crystal bowls of red watermelon slices, and surrounded by all the TDB managers.

Next week will be my last one at TDB before I move on to the New Zealand High Commission, and I kept reminding my tear ducts that I was only moving practically across the block, not across the world yet. Never the less, the speeches, songs, and gifts "melted my heart" as my mom likes to say.

I had moved to TDB under rather unorthodox circumstances.

Simione, the Managing Director and

Leta, a Deputy Managing director

presented gifts to me Finding myself with a bit of extra time while we were working on the island of 'Eua almost two years ago, I had just started to talk to the Bank about volunteering business advising services at their branch on the island when Peace Corps decided to move us into the capital city. Without so much as a week's notice, TDB was suddenly asked whether they might want me as a full-time head office volunteer, and very luckily for me, they accepted. During that time, TDB staff were a steady presence during a very emotionally turbulent moving time for Mark and I. In the year and a half that I have continued to work for the Bank, the culture of value and acceptance that I first saw hasn't changed.

My farewell speech was an honest and insufficient attempt to summarize a year and a half of thank-yous:

Fakamalo ki he talekita pule, SimioneSefanaia, mo e kau tokoni talekita, Hasiloni, Leta, Seini, moe kau pule kotoa. (Thank you and acknowledgements to the Managing Director, Simione Sefanaia, and the deputy managing directors Hasiloni, Leta, Seni, and all the other managers here.) I can’t say enough how touched I am by the love and acceptance you have shownme throughout my year and a half at TDB.One of the gifts was an engraved kali, or Tongan pillow,

made out of hardwood from 'EuaMy first impression of TDB was thateveryone was always extremely early for everything! I remember the day Istarted at the bank, it was the first day of a management training, and I’dbeen told to come at 8:30. Wanting to give a good impression on my first day ofwork, I showed up what I thought was early, at 8:25, and to my horror, everyonewas already seated and doing the opening prayer! "What about Tongan time!" Ithought. I knew I was in the right place, though, when several people turnedfrom the group, smiled, and motioned me to sit next to them.

I also felt immediately at home with thepeople I would work with for most of the coming year; Leta, Sina, and Folau. Icouldn’t believe when Leta looked at my CV in our first meeting and discoveredthat she and I had gone to the same university and the same MBA program in theUS. Here I was in a new place with people I didn’t know, and yet we already hada lot to talk about. Still today, we never run out of conversation topics!Throughout this past year, I’ve always looked forward to sharing stories withSina, getting fruit at the market, trading baking ideas, along with all thework and trainings we planned together and all the things she’s taught methroughout my time here. Aside from running trainings with Folau, Mark and I have greatly enjoyed sharing our love of delicious food with Folauand Loisi, whether it’s Sunday ‘umu or fresh fish at a training in ‘Eua.

Another gift was a sculpture of rare golden coral.

(The only thing I won't miss from TDB

are these hot polyester uniforms!)The life of anyone adjusting to a new placeis always full of ups and downs as we encounter new styles of conversation,language, food, and all sorts of things that are unfamiliar to us. One of thethings I will always remember from this past two years is when I was terriblysick with a nasty mataika infection that almost cost me my finger. I hadalready missed a week of work, and had done nothing but stay at home mostlyalone, wishing I had family here while I was sick. I was feeling especially isolated andfrustrated, and then one day, Leta, Sina, and Folau came by and dropped off ahuge box of fresh fruits and vegetables, of every kind there was at the market,as well as a get-well card from the staff! This made a huge impression on me - Itlet me know I had family even here in Tonga.I have felt so welcomed and accepted byeveryone here at TDB, and have so enjoyed working alongside all of you. Whenother volunteers talk about difficulties they’ve had in their workingenvironments, I think a lot of them want to tell me to be quiet after I talkabout how good it has been to work at TDB!

When I was writing this short thank-you, Istarted crying, but then I realized this isn’t a sad day. Although I’m sad tobe leaving TDB, Mark and I are so excited to be staying in Tonga! So thisreally isn’t a good bye, as I expect and hope to still see each of you frequently while we are still here. Thank you again for your acceptance, yourpatience, your teaching, and your love for me as I’ve worked here at TDB. Iwill really miss working with all of you.Mark and I with Sina and Leta

A delightful pink attendee

at a fundraising lunchI couldn't believe my eyes, but there they were: a a prominent national rugby and a very recognized political figure hula-hooping next to each other on stage to the crowd's wild delight. It was admittedly one of the funniest moments during the events of this past month: October as breast cancer awareness month. Last year I had helped in a minor way with publicity, and this year, enjoyed being a bigger part of each of the events during the month. Everyone got into the spirit: it was a month for community, fun, and altogether too much bright pink.

With all the dressing up, parading through town, and festooning everything in sight with pink ribbons, it only takes one survivor's story to remind everyone the real reason for all the hype. During a radio show last week, a woman called in to tell her story; she was obviously trying to hold back her tears. Her aunt, she said, had died of breast cancer, and none of the family had known of her struggles until it was too late. She had been diligently hiding it for years, ashamed to tell anyone, even her own family.

We were exhausted but

happy after most eventsAfraid of what she would find if she went to the hospital, she had been going to a traditional Tongan healer, her family found out.

Like many forms of Western medicine, Tongan medicine is incredibly effective in some methods and hopelessly misguided in others. William Mariner, a English man who lived for four years in Tonga as a young man in the early 1800s, described forms of Tongan surgery, medicine, and medical procedures that were far advanced beyond that of his mother country. Tongan doctors at that time had a good understanding of how to prevent infection, and successfully treated tetanus, elephantiasis, and war wounds with a greater success rate (i.e. less people died) than in Europe.

Tongan Herbal Medicine by W. Arthur Whistler does a fascinating job of outlining some of these practices, including this gem of a description for a successful 1804 tetanus operation "when the patient had spasms, a reed moistened with saliva was forced up his urethra..." apparently this was very successful, a procedure that made me seriously appreciate how awful tetanus must be considering that as the alternative, until I read further that "it was also performed on other ailments, such as 'general langour and inactivity of the system." (page 14) What!! I thought, but the book deftly moves on to another subject from there.

The surgical knowledge from two hundred years ago has been lost, but a skilled modern "traditional" Tongan healer (who now has to be distinguished from the Tongan MDs) knows which local plants are good for pain relief, constipation, skin rashes, and a host of other ailments. For the most part, these do have scientifically proven compounds now used in pharmaceutical medicine -- think of how willow bark had been used for thousands of years as a pain killer until Bayer decided to sell its extract as Aspirin in the early 1900s.

The small print says this elixer accomplishes

what decades of research around the world

hasn't yet been able to do: cure cancer!

On the other hand, Mariner also might have been comforted to find that Tongan medicine during his time also practiced a familiar treatment to his own country's medicine: blood-letting. He described a "disordered state of the stomach and bowels, attended with headache and drowsiness," whose only cure was blood-letting -- an illness which I am suspicious might have simply come from too much kava the night before. (Whistler, 18) Fortunately, Tongans abandoned this practice generations ago, figuring out, as the Europeans eventually did, too, that cutting someone wasn't a cure.

I felt equal horror last week when I looked on a bottle of medicinal vai Tonga, literally translated as Tongan water, and some enterprising salesperson had printed on it "Heals: Different forms of cancer such as Colon, Breast, Pancreas.." Vai Tonga is a natural extract of fruits, medicinal bark, and other plants and is good for calming an upset stomach and mildly relieving pain, not an alternative to chemotherapy.

So, when the woman on the radio started describing as her aunt deteriorated in health, hiding her condition from her family, and continuing to spend large sums of money at her Tongan healer, none of us listening were surprised. Tongan healers are generally wonderful for a large range of complaints, but we were sad that the healers this woman went to obviously didn't put pressure on her to compliment their treatments with other needed forms of medicine.

"Breast cancer is not a shame or a curse.

It's not your own fault. Get tested immediately"

(Creative Commons: I was the graphic designer)One time last year, when I was talking to an acquaintance about another volunteer's chronic sickness, they said "Well, it's because they stopped going to church, you know." Other than the difficulties women face with the fear of going to the hospital, many people also hold the belief that God causes everything in life to happen whether it's bad or good, and that a bad event is evidence of God's displeasure with the person.

Because of this belief, many people diagnosed with cancer tend to attribute their sickness to God punishing them, and therefore don't want to reveal their troubles to anyone because it will be evidence to their friends and family that they did something worthy of that punishment.

The poster to the right is one of four ads that Tonga Breast Cancer Society published in the local newspaper each week, with four different messages. While other posters urge screening early or encourage family support, this one speaks to the individuals who hide their sickness because of that belief. It's not a shame or a curse; it's not your own fault.

With more people hearing the radio shows and reading the newspaper we all hope that the story told by the woman on the radio will become less and less common.

The design I made

for the post T-shirtsThe best and worst part about it is not having to think.

Walking into the Peace Corps office several days ago, I met a fellow volunteer frowning at a computer screen. "How's it going?" I asked. "Oh just facing real life again," he said "I'm trying to decide what to do about health insurance next year." It was a topic with which I completely empathized, having just scowled the same scowl at the myriad health insurance options myself the day before. We hadn't made these kinds of decisions in over two years.

Imagine getting a letter in the mail, and for the next two years, you wouldn't have to worry about where you were going to live, what house you would choose, whether or not you could afford the rent, what job you would take, or how to get an employment visa. You wouldn't worry about getting laid off because of a bum economy, and all your medical care would be paid for, 100%, including medical evacuations to the best doctors out of country. The only logistics you'd think about for two years would be where to buy your holiday tickets: Fiji or New Zealand? Or when the irregular bus schedule goes in to town for the weekend. Or how to teach 30 students with no curriculum to refer to.

But also imagine not having control over any of those things either. If there is a problem at work, imagine someone else deciding that you were going to be finding a new job. Faced with a nasty medical problem, imagine being told you had to accept whatever care was approved by doctors half way around the world, no questions asked.

Looking stylish

Most volunteers, us included, gladly give up that control for two years; not having to worry about medical care, rent, utilities, and transportation is worth being in a job where you will get fired if you are caught not wearing your life vest while travelling on a small boat.

This level of reporting to the Peace Corps lends a strange dynamic to the working environment, though. In day-to-day life, the volunteer is essentially an employee of the work site. At least for volunteers in Tonga, you report to work, have a supervisor, and complete tasks during the day (whether those involve teaching primary students or advising small businesses). But although you are an employee in nature, you aren't paid by them. The work site can't fire you for not showing up. And they can't measure your performance or give you incentives- Peace Corps, whom you see an average of once a quarter, does all that. Your work site essentially doesn't have any control over you; as free labour, you almost have control over them.

"Who knows when this volunteer might choose not to show up? What if Peace Corps decides to move them to another job?" a lot of organizations have in the back of their minds, at least in the first year of working with a volunteer. I empathize with the organizations that host volunteers; it's a hard job, made harder by cultural misunderstandings, Peace Corps requirements, and the uncertainty of the volunteer work supply. It ends up being a strange situation for everyone involved, because normal employment relationships usually don't work that way.

Volunteers are taught the three goals of Peace Corps early on (in my own words):

Development activities: Supply trained labour to international communities and organizationsRelational: Teach international communities about AmericansRelational: Teach Americans about the rest of the world

During our pre-service training, I vividly remember one trainer saying "if you sat all day under a tree talking to someone, you'd be accomplishing just as much as if you spent all day teaching class." And in a great sense, it's true: most of the impact volunteers have is relational; the people they work with often remember the personality of the volunteer far more than any of his or her "accomplishments."

But, although two-thirds of the Peace Corps goals are relational, we are mostly measured on the remaining third: the activities. Most of our volunteer reporting has to do with activities; the relational goals 2 and 3 are relegated to two small tabs in a section called "tell your story." From a volunteer perspective, it's confusing. Volunteers navigate a huge number of unrelated performance measures: the goals of their host organizations, the three overall goals of Peace Corps headquarters, and the project objectives of the local Peace Corps office. Often, we feel divided loyalty; "Who am I reporting to, again?"

Leaving aside all the business-talk, after two years of service, ultimately, was Peace Corps worth it? What about saving the world? Isn't part of being a volunteer nobly sacrificing for two years to make the world a better place?

We didn't join Peace Corps to save the world. We knew that as two people only several years out of our degrees, we weren't going to accomplish anything in two years. In fact, I'm not sure Stephen Hawking could accomplish much in two years in a completely different culture, no disrespect to Stephen Hawking. As I wrote previously, it took us a year just to feel like we were at a place to start learning about really what was going on in Tongan culture around us, and with every previous move I've made in my life, it's followed the same slow adaptation pattern.

Instead, we joined because we want long-term international socially responsible careers, and our time in Peace Corps was a good way that we could have a small, positive impact while preparing ourselves for more effective work in the future. Plus, they sent us together- no pesky "dependent visa" for either of us while the other worked in a full time job.

And now as we're moving on, we're making all sorts of decisions about housing, transportation, medical, and visas that we haven't had to think about for two years, and although its been nice not worrying, its also very nice to make decisions for ourselves and feel like adults again. Looking back, we're glad of what Peace Corps intentionally and unintentionally gave us: an international job, experience with a US government organization, an education in development politics, free medical care for two years, and ultimately, the chance to live and work in Tonga.

Throughout the past two years, we've gone through culture shock, adjusted, gone through culture shock again, made friends, become comfortable with Tongan working patterns, and made ourselves at home in this little capital city on an island in the Pacific ocean. And we're not ready to leave it, not quite yet.Some parts are definitely idyllic

Now, don't be mistaken that Tonga is a perfect place where everyone lazily hangs out on the beach drinking coconuts. There are huge busses that spout black smoke into dusty streets, white-collar criminals that get their sentences forgiven, and huge piles of nappies (diapers) collect in the forest like a plastic foul smelling mountain. In short, Tonga is filled with amazing beauty next to surprising ugliness, just like any other country. And yet it's not like any other country. Not at all.

We promised to update you faithful readers, family, and friends around the world, and now we can definitively (as definitive as anything is in life) say that we are staying in Tonga at least another year.

I've just accepted a position as a Development Programme Coordinator with the New Zealand High Commission, and Mark is shortlisted for several jobs, so we can start making our plans: Tonga for at least another year.

We've weighed our options, and Tonga clearly came out first. Here's why we're staying:

1. The people. We've made wonderful friendships and connections throughout our time here, and have been really lucky to spend time with some truly amazing people here that have inspired us in our own lives. These relationships took a while to grow, and we want to see them grow further.

The ladies at Tonga Breast Cancer Society

at one of this month's awareness events2. The culture shock. Frankly, we're just not ready to do it again. Tonga has become home for us, and as typical with any cultural adjustment, we spent the first year and a half here just getting to a place where we felt like we could really start learning about Tongan culture. Finally about a year ago, we started to feel things fall in to place more, and as the months go by, we become more effective at working within the Tongan context and having fun with it.

A friend at a tapa class at Langafonua3. The projects. Both in jobs and volunteer work, we're excited to see what we will be involved in next year. For me, working with New Zealand Aid as a full time job, continuing to support Langafonua and On the Spot in whatever I can, and continuing involvement in various associations will be a lot of fun. Mark is keen to be part of the ongoing growth of EWaste Tonga and environmental groups, and the next jobs update on our side will be which of his opportunities he's going to be in for the next year.

4. The value of relationships over stuff. Don't misunderstand us - Tongans love stuff- and we do, too. Just walk in to the living room of someone who has recently returned from a trip to New Zealand, and you'll see new kitchen appliances, a flat screen TV, and maybe a new computer. But especially as companies in the US desperately try to attract more customers in a less-than-ideal economy, the contrast between "the next new thing" consumer culture of the US, and the less demanding consumer culture of Tonga is refreshing. My overall impression when I went back to the US as a presenter at the Smithsonian was that everything was amazing and beautiful and just cool, but it was amazing and beautiful and cool in order for someone to buy it. In Tonga, you usually make things beautiful to honour someone, not to attract buyers. Perhaps a future blog post on this is coming.

5. The natural products. There is nothing so satisfying as coming home, cracking open a fresh young coconut to drink from a farm several kilometers down the road while munching on half of a papaya grown in the back yard. While the imported items in Tonga are expensive and/or low quality (fatty chicken, low-quality soy oil, $7 for four oranges) the local products are abundant, cheap, fresh, and tasty. Volunteers who go back to the US often say that they miss the better-flavoured vegetables and fresh produce sold at the market here. Now that we've figured out how to cook with the seasons, we enjoy heaps of the best tasting cabbage, squash, and cucumbers for several months, to be followed next by a colourful abundance of tomatoes, eggplant, chayote, and cilantro. Not to mention grass-fed pork at feasts, fresh-caught tuna, and the butcher shop down the road that occasionally has cuts of local grass-fed beef. And then of course tuitui for soap, local ginger and lemon for colds, soursop and coconut juice to soothe upset stomachs, and papaya seeds for fakalele (literally translated from Tongan: "the runs"). Our hippy sides rejoice.

Papaya?Makes me hungry just looking at it

6. The temperature and atmosphere. Tonga has one of the most pleasant climates out of anywhere we've been. It generally stays between 20 and 30 degrees Celcius here (68 - 86 F) and the nights are almost always cool and breezy. I personally love biking along at dusk when the sea air is blowing along the streets and the sun is setting over the water, passing groups of young people playing volleyball in neighbourhoods and pairs out for an evening stroll.

7. The random events. We never know when one week might be livened up by the Ikale Tahi rugby team returning home, or a trade fair, parade, public holiday, or some other event. Because of how small Tonga is, we also never know who we'll run into at an event, and love meeting the amazing and interesting people that we cross paths with.

A float at a recent parade8. The change. Tonga has gone through a lot in the last years. The late King George Tupou 4's death in 2006, the 2006 riots that destroyed large parts of the capital city, the current King George Tupou 5's coronation ceremony in 2008, the sinking of the Ashika ferry in 2009, the democratic elections in 2010, and the"rebranding" of Tonga as a tourist destination this year among many other interesting events. Tonga is due to be hooked to an undersea fibreoptic cable next year that will bring massively fast internet, and there are several other interesting initiatives coming up in the near future. All of which should be very interesting to see as we live here for a while longer.

And of course, who would want to leave behind such a cute kitty as ours?

The crushed tuitui for some reason

reminds me of pecan pieOne morning in 'Eua as I was strolling through town, I stopped to talk to some neighbours, who were sitting in the shade next to their house with a big pile of brown nuts in front of them. I saw them scooping out the center of each nut, and popping a handful into their mouths. After masticating it into a fine pulp, each woman carefully scooped the mash out, and deposited it in a bag next to her. "Try some! It's Tongan soap!" one neighbor said, depositing a gob on my arm and instructing me to spread it around.

This was my rather abrupt introduction to one of the best Tongan beauty products out there: tuitui, or in English, candlenut.

I rediscovered the wonders of tuitui for myself this week, when one of my coworkers came around with little bags for sale filled with a mixture of the pounded nuts combined with a mix of other sweet-smelling roots and plants. The technology of plants is amazing in Tonga; to my untrained eye, there seems to be a million different useful plants many people seem to know about: some for dyes, paintbrushes, or jewellery, others for moisturizing the skin, curing diarrhea, or relieving stomach cramps. Tuitui alone is useful as soap, shampoo, exfoliating skin scrub, moisturizing oil, and perfume. An all-in-one natural beauty product that is completely natural, chemical free, and I get to chew? Sold.

The next morning after my workout, I surveyed the little bag I'd bought dubiously, not too sure about shoving a handful of unfamiliar plant material in my mouth, not swallowing, and then spreading this delightful mass all over my body. Taking a deep breath, I shook some out of the bag, and tipped a small palmful in my mouth. It tasted pleasantly like the rich, ever so slightly bitter flavour of walnuts, and I fought the urge not to swallow. It's been a long time since I've had fresh walnuts.

"Processed" tuituiThe creamy, gritty resulting mixture reminded me of a high-class exfoliating scrub, and as I dutifully scrubbed it on my arms, I felt the patina of oily dusty city sweat dissolve, the scum that soap never really seems to fully take care of. The tuitui released a pleasant, nutty, floral smell that had a hint of spice, somewhat like fennel, combined with a nut-oil smell that reminded me of the aroma of the linseed oil I used when I worked with oil paints in the US. I rinsed the grit off, more enamoured with this mixture as the minutes of using it went by. When I toweled dry, my skin was super-smooth, ultra-clean, smelled perfumed, and actually glowed.

The day before, the sale of tuitui around the office had sparked a 30 minute conversation with my department manager and friend, Sina, who aside from creating a mean business plan, is a wealth of knowledge about all things plant. She told me that alternatively to using it in the shower, I could wrap the mashed mixture in a little square of unpainted tapa cloth (the soft, light brown textile made from pounded mulberry bark), squeezing out the tuitui oil to dab as perfume.

A creative business person sells tuitui soap.

"Kukui" is another way to refer to the nut.It also can be used to enhance the fragrance of Tongan oil, the sweet-smelling coconut oil that you can buy at the market in old vodka bottles and recycled soy sauce dispensers. Sina roughly described the process to me: if you have several days of hot sun, you grate coconuts, and mix the pulp with a selection of dried flowers, cinnamon leaf, sandalwood, and plenty of tuitui, leaving it out in the sun in a wide-mouthed kava bowl. Several days later, after adding more coconuts to the reducing mixture, you can strain out the pulp, leaving a sun-cured aromatic, moisturizing oil that gives thick curly Tongan hair a beautiful sheen and ensures its wearer will always smell good - a matter of huge importance in Tonga.

Sina's aunt, a pillar of grassroots development in Tonga who is now in her eighties and has been involved in projects all over the country, is often complemented for her clear complexion and soft skin. An incredibly well-spoken woman, she credits it to tuitui, which she regularly chews and uses. If you're wondering about the efficacy of chewing it, the process helps break down the compounds in the nut, making it more effective as soap, and releasing the useful oil. And you only chew your own; the crushed tuitui sold at the office was pounded with a mortar and pestle, not with teeth!

Everyone I have talked to about tuitui throughout our time in Tonga has mentioned how much they like using it, and how much they enjoy the smell over commercial cologne. In fact, yesterday I was chatting with the manager of Langafonua about my experiments with tuitui, during which she told me her strategy: buy a bag of uncracked nuts, crack them, dig out the nutmeats, and freeze them. While the bucket is filling, start chewing five or six of the nuts, and by the time you step in the bath, your soap/exfoliant/perfume is ready. After we had talked for some time about the subject she said "You know, I think I'll go to the market this afternoon to buy more. All this talk of tuitui has made me want to use some!"

"Have you heard anything yet? How did the interview go? What are your plans for next year? Skype does make an awkward interview, doesn't it?

What will you remember about this coworker? It's for our goodbye party on Friday. Yes, ok, just look into the camera and start speaking... now."

One well-known expat in Nuku'alofa slipped away without telling anyone exactly when she was leaving.

She had been here for years, running a training consultancy organization, and we brought up over coffee the buzz we'd heard over the "coconut wireless" - the word-of-mouth stream of information that circulates sensational and largely unreliable tidbits of knowledge. As she had evidently told everyone else, she explained to us that she decided to slip out like a thief in the night to avoid the obligatory fortnight of good-bye parties, teas, and events held in one's honour when one was leaving. In Tonga, especially if you've been here for more than five years or so, you can't just slip out unnoticed- that is, unless you actively hide your flight information like she did.

As September hurriedly moves away for October to take its place, it seems like a lot of what we are doing is seeing off friends who are leaving. Among the friendships we've made with expats, it follows the predictable and sad pattern of getting to know a wonderful person or couple, only to have to say goodbye to them several months later when their tour of duty ends. It's especially pronounced with the Australian volunteers, who only stay here for a year. So while many of our friends live here for good, it easily starts to feel like half of the people we know here are constantly changing.

Admin and Business Advisory departments doing a Fijian dance at the goodbye party. The International Dateline Hotel didn't have dishes, glasses, or cutlery despite being an event venue, so several families had to bring their own supply for everyone at the last minute. It turned out a great success and everyone had a good time.Last week, we and it seemed, half of Tonga, said goodbye to a couple as they returned to New Zealand after almost thirteen years in Tonga. He worked at Tonga Development Bank, and I don't think we got much work done in the office for about two weeks previous. Gifts the size of small chairs started piling up in back corners of each department, meals were planned and dishes assigned ("You have $160 pa'anga to make fourteen chafing dishes of sweet and sour chicken") and I spent the week interviewing my colleagues on camera and putting it together for a "goodbye video" we showed at the evening celebration. It was epic.

Most of our Peace Corps colleagues are ending their service between now and December, leaving us and a small handful of volunteers staying until the very end. We've already had our "Close of Service" conference, a week of seminars on everything from reverse culture shock to health insurance benefits post-Peace Corps, and it was like the metaphorical dam releasing the steady wave of volunteers leaving from now until December. Like we knew from the beginning, two years has already felt very short, excepted only when we see pictures of US friends' new babies suddenly grown into two year old toddlers.

As for us, we don't know whether to start saying our goodbyes or planning what we're bringing back to Tonga after December. We've been applying to jobs here in Tonga, knowing that it would be wonderful to continue our friendships and projects here for a while longer, but also pursuing jobs in social business and nonprofits all around the world. So I'll sign off with what we've been retorting to friends' frequent inquiries here: "We just don't know yet, but when we do, we'll tell you immediately."

For now, we'll keep saying goodbye to everyone leaving that we will sorely miss, whether it's from here or somewhere else in the world.

Dr. Ungatea, principal of a local high school, in her outfit"GO IKALE TAHI!!!" we heard from every corner of the neighbourhood last night. The Rugby World Cup started on the 9th of this month, and the Tongan team, the Ikale Tahi, just made their first win of the tournament last night, playing against Japan.

Translated as the Sea Eagles, the team was officially named as such by the King, and their arrival two weeks ago in New Zealand, was heralded by two-hour delays at the airport as every Tongan in a hundred-kilometer radius arrived in red-bannered trucks to greet their team. It broke the record as the largest fan turnout during this world cup. We read each article with increasing delight, as the reports came in of a "sea of red and white," the Ikale Tahi's colours, and of cars facing the wrong way on the freeway as their owners' fervour got the best of them and they danced in front of their vehicles.

It wasn't too different here in Nuku'alofa. Since several weeks before the tournament started, the city center has been enveloped in red; banners hang from almost every shop front, cars sport full-size Tongan flags draped on their roofs, houses are lost in a flutter of red and white flags lining the streets.

The DVD shop supports Ikale TahiEveryone was in red and white at TDB, tooThe frenzy of Ikale Tahi enthusiasm reached its peak the day that the World Cup opened- with a match between Tonga and New Zealand's All Blacks. (New Zealand seemed bursting with enthusiasm, too; Air New Zealand has been playing its rugby-themed airline safety video since last year, which we now have almost memorized: "to make your way to the exits, even if it's All Black..." haaa).

In Tonga, however, the entire city seemed to explode in a day-long impromptu festival of rugby support. Mid-morning, we looked out of the window to see the electricity company Tonga Power driving their red-festooned power line maintenance vehicles in a parade down the middle of downtown. The entire day proceeded in the same attitude, cars honking, throngs of people in the streets, crazy decorations at the main market. At one point, a torrential rain poured down for half an hour, soaking everyone thoroughly, but the partyers in the streets didn't miss a beat, joyfully strolling along in the downpour in their red.

The entire market was festooned in red balloons and drapesGo Ikale Tahi at the Nuku'alofa government primary schoolNot owning a TV, that evening we went to Leta and Pila's house to watch the exciting match. Leta is my manager at work, and we always thoroughly enjoy our conversations (not to mention the excellent food and coffee) with her and her husband when we have visited their house in the past. In celebration of the night, I made a ginger slice, a sweet delight previously unknown to us before coming to this part of the world composed of a crumbly cookie bottom topped with a spicy ginger frosting. It was extra-cool because it even said Go Ikale Tahi.

We're getting ready to watch the gameYes, this was an Ikale Tahi ginger slice, decorated with some of the precious dried cranberries my family brought on their recent visitTonga lost to the All Blacks, as everyone guessed they would, but we all had a great time. When Tonga made a try, the neighbourhood erupted in honking and yelling, as could well be expected.

Tonga's next game plunged the city into depression with its unforeseen loss; the quiet empty streets and glum looks from my coworkers could have told the outcome to anyone who had missed watching it. I had planned on writing about the World Cup at around that time last week, but after the loss, just didn't have the heart.

So, no one was expecting much when Tonga played its third game last night, and won! In one night, the sick were well again, the depressed wore grins of joy. The whole city celebrated.

We rode our bikes through town back from watching it again at Leta and Pila's, and yelled "GO IKALE TAHI!" back and forth with the happy crowds of people milling in the streets at 11pm. Two hours later, we could still hear beeping from happy drivers and laughing groups chattering about the win as they passed our house. If the Ikale Tahi make it into the semi-finals, I think the whole country might just shut down.

Buying fai kakai (Tongan sweets) at the marketWe have just returned from arguably one of the greatest three weeks of our last few years: hosting our first visitors to Tonga, my parents and brother. From the rainy night they arrived and we ushered them home to our little house-on-stilts to eat lu and sweet potato to the tearful farewells at midnight at the Auckland airport three weeks later, we managed to see a huge number of things in Tonga and New Zealand, and -miraculously- had a relaxing time throughout.

Making lu at homeUpon their return to the Northwest (US) and ours to Tonga, we asked them to tell us the 5 things they will remember most clearly about Tonga- and they gave us 15. "There were so many memorable things about Tonga," they wrote "that we had a hard time keeping it to only 5, so we did 5 each!"

Asa, my younger brother, gave me his top five while we were chatting on google chat one day last week.

Asa, looking cool

At eighteen, he's just about to start his first year of university in the US after living for roughly the last eight years in Brazil. The most memorable thing, he told me, was meeting the people we work and have fun with:

1. Meeting the colleagues of Elena and Mark

In Asa's words, "I think that really the most memorable [thing about visiting] is being able to put faces to names and experiences to a lot of what we've read about in the blog and from what we've heard from you." He liked seeing Tonga Development Bank from the inside, checking out where Mark works at the Free Wesleyan Education Office, and browsing handicrafts at Langafonua Gallery. He's also a faithful reader of our blog, and was excited "to see where everything we've been reading about for the last 2 years has happened."

The whole family with Leta and Sina at TDB

Standing outside the FWC offices with Asinate

2. Eating Tongan foodAsa's favourite was lu, the taro-leaf wrapped meat baked with onions and coconut milk, saying "the 'lu itself is delicious" referring to the taro leaves, also called lu. In explanation, "the meat is also really good, but taro leaves and coconut milk.....mmmmmmmmmmm."He also enjoyed baked fish in coconut milk, Tongan sweet potatoes, and fried breadfruit chips.An unloaded 'umu (underground oven), made permanent in a recycled (clean) oil drumSunday lunch? As Asa said "mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...."3. Kayaking to church on 'Ofu islandFor several days during the trip, we stayed on a small island in the larger archipelago dottings of islands that make up Vava'u, the northern group of islands in Tonga. Never to be put off by the limitations of land, we kayaked to the neighboring island of 'Ofu that Sunday to enjoy their Free Wesleyan church service. Asa said he'll remember the singing, especially, "the great harmony completely unguided by instrumental accompanyment."Asa in his kayakChanged out of our wet clothes and ready for the serviceEach verse is read before singing it so everyone knows the words4.Learning a war dance with Mele

One stop on our rounds to meet colleague friends was at Langafonua, where they had a great time meeting the staff, and learning a dance with Mele, the colleague I'd gone with to the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. I asked him to describe what was going through his head while he was learning: "… must… keep… small… amount of dignity…. and face in front of…. people I've just met…. try to…follow along… as best I can…." He was a great sport.

"And a one..."... a two...""a one two three four!"Asa: "maybe I wasn't meant for war dancing!... "

5. Going to the fakaleiti show at Tonga Bob's

One night, we went to the weekly leiti show in Vava'u: a jovial, entertaining event that is somewhat of a cross between pageant and burlesque, all featuring the Tongan third gender: men raised as women; the tongan term meaning "like a lady." A one line explanation doesn't do it justice, so to read more about leitis, visit the blog post Sex, Gender, and Politics.

Asa was quiet for the first part of the show, "I wasn't sure what an appropriate response is to men dressing like women and actually being pretty feminine in a masculine way," but after a while he started to have fun and cheer the performers with the rest of us. "if you're going to be at a relatively strange, and a little bit awkward event, just have fun with it," he reflected.

Rockin' the leopard print! ...........................................................................................

It was also wonderful to catch up with my parents again. This was a treat! We don't often get to be in the same continent, let alone the same country, as they live in Brazil, where they'll return to work in May after their short home assignment in the US. Before this trip, we hadn't seen them or Asa in 3 years.

Looking sharp in new Tongan fineryTheir list starts similarly to Asa's, reinforcing our high opinion of the wonderful people we work with:

1. Gracious people: Asinate, Anaua, Elisapesi, Leta, Sina, John, Alfileti, Mosi, Mele, and otherswho welcomed us with open arms and made sure we were well taken care of.

2. Worthy work that Elena and Mark are doing and how much they are loved and respected by their friends and colleagues

3. The sound of a choir singing in exquisite harmony wafting over the early morning breezes at around 5 a.m.

4. Kayaking to church! No kidding – we wrapped our church finery in plastic bags, paddled across the channel, changed out of our soaking wet clothes, and attended the worship service.By the time we'd kayaked almost a kilometer, we were ready to eat Sunday dinner! 5. Breadfruit and chicken wrapped in taro leaves over a slow fire at Anaua’s house in 'Ofu island.

'Anaua and Malia preparing the meal6. Jumping off the “glass-bottomed boat” to snorkel in Swallow’s Cave where we were surrounded by thousands of tiny silver-blue fishThe water is so clear you feel like you're flying above the sea floor7. Woven artwork on each beam of the dome shaped roof of the church at Tupou College.Tupou College church

8. Pigs ahoy! Everywhere we looked, there were pigs grazing, snuffling in the dirt, scurrying into the bushes.

9. Quiet pace of life – when you slow down, it is easier to focus on people rather than projects and schedules.

10. The shining derriere that scared away the thieves. According to legend, a wise goddess of ‘Eua scared off the Samoan gods who had come to steal a mountaintop one dark night in Vava’u. How did she do it? By exposing her shining derriere which tricked them into thinking the sun was rising. Clever woman!

Now when are they going to invent teleporters so this can happen more often?

We sat in the plyboard entrance of Marco's Pizza, a long table full of volunteers sitting on a motley collection of plastic chairs, old bar stools, a bench, a cooler (me), and a paint bucket (Mark). However rudimentary the seating may have been, the food before us was five-star; antipasta with hand-cured salami, handmade sausage, and mozzarella cheese, large plates of savoury pasta with mushrooms and cream sauce, and thick, handmade pizza hot from the oven. Marco takes his cooking seriously.

"Do you want to hear the story about the earthworm and the whale?" Paul, a volunteer visiting from the island of 'Eua says from across the table. Immediately the table goes quiet after a chorus of "yes"s. "I heard it from the TCC guy who drives around in that beatup van with no drivers seat," Paul continues. "That guy!" I exclaim. "He gave us a ride several times," referring to hitchhiking rides during our stint in 'Eua almost two years ago.

"Yeah, he's taken out the back of the seat so he can drive comfortably." Mark chimes in.

"He is a pretty big guy," Paul agrees, "I'm always a little nervous about his van, but he's so nice. I wish we could remember his name. He picked me up one day and just started telling me this story. Apparently he knows a dozen more Tongan stories and loves them!"

After another bite of antipasta, Paul launches into the story.

"A long time ago, maybe a thousand years ago, the earthworm and the whale both lived on land. Although I didn't ask him about the mechanics of how that worked." There is a beat of silence around the table as we all imagine a whale living on land.

Not to be unduly distracted by technicalities, Paul went on.

"The whale and the earthworm were great friends, and always spent their days together. One day, the whale had to move into the ocean. The guy telling the story to me was unclear exactly why the whale had to move into the ocean, but obviously that's the way it went because whales are in the ocean now, right?

"So as the whale was leaving the earthworm, he was very sad, and - they were good friends, remember - the whale told the earthworm 'if you ever get into any trouble or need anything, just yell out, and I'll come back and help you.'

"Now, the 'ufi harvest is always right around this time of year, maybe a little later," Paul went on. There were nods from volunteers all around the table. We had all seen the huge piles of yams stacked at the market, as big as a man's leg, and some of us had been to the yam harvest celebrations last year and had eaten large delicious fluffy white chunks of yam, straight out of the underground oven.

"You know when you're unearthing 'ufi, you have to dig all around it with those spades so that you don't chop it up while you're getting it out of the soil. And you can imagine that in the process, it chops up a lot of earthworms as well!" Smiles start breaking out around the table as we all figure out the rest of the story. "Every year the earthworms get mad during the harvest, and start yelling for the whales. And you know what that does? It calls all the whales to Tonga, and that's why it's whale season right now. The whales come back every year around this time because the earthworms call them."

We are just starting whale season, when huge humpbacks move through Tonga, delighting anyone looking out to sea with their waving flippers, slapping tails, and fountains of spray. They must have heard the earthworms calling.

A military march for the King's birthdayWhen anyone first meets someone in Tonga, the conversation will most likely go like this:

"Hi. 'Ofa Fifita*?" [They have already asked who this new person is from several people around you]

"Yes, hi."

"Mele Maka" says new person.

"Do you know my cousin, Melenaite Maka?" they ask.

"Isn't she the daughter of Sikaleti Po'oi? Sikaleti's my aunt's father in law."

"From Kanokupolu?" they ask, citing a large town on the island."Yes, are you from there?" the new person asks. "You know the blue house right before the Chinese shop as you come into town? That's my family's place!"* Names are completely made up

And the conversation will move on from there. I am always amazed at the huge genealogies that everyone in Tonga seems to carry around in their heads, effortlessly referring to them at any useful occasion. It gets even more confusing when, as foreigners, we ask how certain members of the royal family are connected to each other--because at almost every important event, the guest of honour will be royal, or at least noble.

At one event, I asked how the two royal guests of honour were related to each other, and was told, "Mele Siu'ilikutapu is Lupepau'u's aunt. Well, no, she's more like her cousin. Lupepau'u's mother's father, the late king, was brothers with Mele Siu'ilikutapu's father." And with head reeling, I quietly watched the rest of the ceremony without asking any more questions!

For the sheer joy of examining family trees, I've made a very simple tree to understand the Tongan royal family. It shows the current line of kings, starting with Tupou 1, who is generally known for uniting Tonga into one country and preventing Tonga from becoming a colony through his shrewd leadership. The current King is Tupou 5, and after him, the succession to the throne gets a little complicated, because: 1-He has no legitimately recognized royal children, 2-his next sibling is female and is not eligible to succeed him, and 3-the next sibling married a commoner and disqualified himself from succeeding the throne. So, the throne will eventually go to his youngest brother, and from there on, to that brother's eldest son.A couple of caveats: Names have been shortened in some cases, and most of the names without Prince, Princess, King, or Queen in front of them have an "Hon." that I have left out for the sake of space. I've also left out first or second marriages that are not considered part of the royal line. Bold titles underneath the names are the hereditary names that get passed from generation to generation, and purple dates indicate when the monarch reigned.

To carry on with the royal theme, this last Monday was a holiday to celebrate the current king's birthday, which happens to be the actual date of his coronation. We woke up to the sound of marching drums, and strolled downtown to watch the festivities, joining people we knew on the way.

The military band marched proudly down the main street

The float from St Andrews College was especially colouful, with a sign promoting their new peanut butter business- "Go Nuts"

Tonga Family Health had a huge troupe of people doing aerobics down the street

Many school bands played

Representatives from Japanese aid and JICA did their own float and paused for a photo op with an Australian defence representative

And the Kingdom of Tonga float had tapa-clad flagbearers looking very sharp

One of the most amusing floats was the "Mr. Tonga" body builders...

... followed immediately by our friends from Filitonu performing group, giving their own rendition of Mr.Tonga

The decorated hall's centre food court attracted a lot of visitorsLast Saturday was a living reminder that amazing things always happen when talented women get together. I returned to Tonga just in time to minimally help with the WISE Tonga official launch, the opening event of the new women in business association. Fully named Women in Sustainable Enterprises Tonga, the official association name is often shortened to WISE, not least because we can refer delightfully to the wise board, the wise membership, and the wise supporters.

Saturday's official launch was more like the combination of a festival and a trade fair. Business owners and managers from the WISE membership of over 140 women set up booths in the normally cavernous Queen Salote Memorial Hall for the public to enjoy. And everyone indeed seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

Visitors browsed a huge range of business boothsFrom my place at the WISE membership table, I watched as groups of people strolled through the hall holding melting ice cream cones, talking with acquaintances manning the booths, and browsing the wares. Kids excitedly ran back and forth from the children's area, where they fluttered through books, made sticky gluey craft projects, and to my envy, bounced on a giant trampoline.

The Minister of Education made a speech

For a young association's very first event, we sure had a lot of local celebrities. Hon Dr 'Ana Taufe'ulungaki, Minister of Education, Women and Culture was the guest of honour, and gave an inspiring speech praising WISE for it's initiative in pulling the association together without external starter funding, and emphasizing the importance of an association for women in business; because money that a woman earns usually goes to her family and improvement of her community.

The WISE launch was just one event in the yearly and much-anticipated Heilala Week, the yearly Tongan beauty pageant (which of course also judges well-roundedness, it is emphasized). Four of this year's contestants participated in the opening launch ceremony, and were closely followed by the Tongan rugby team, the 'Ikale Tahi.

The rugby team looked chic in matching formal wearThe WISE association itself was started to create greater business opportunities for women in Tonga by building a resource network of members. Current members include formal and informal sector businesspeople, from women who run successful roadside stalls of vegetables, to women who casually start off conversations, "When I was in Fiji last week..." And some of the time, those members are from the same family, or even are the same person!

Mele is weaving and I am practicing weaving in our boothAfter two weeks presenting at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival following months of preparation and heaps of planning, I am back in Tonga and reeling from the exhausting, inspiring experience.

In short, the best part about it was epitomized by a trip to see the White House (from the gate, of course) with several other presenters. In a group of seven people, we collectively spoke five languages: English, French, Spanish, Tongan, and Bambara (from Mali). The diversity, accomplishments, and interesting experiences of other presenters at the festival were what inspired and delighted us throughout.

The best way to capture the insane amount of things we experienced is through photos. I uploaded three main banks of photos to my Facebook page that I have made publicly available, with captions, that when viewed and read in sequence, give a pretty good picture of Mele's and my whirlwind festival trip.

Huge trip highlight: getting shown the

Natural History Museum Tongan archives by

Adrienne Kaeppler and Josh BellView them in order by clicking these links:

Smithsonian: Fiji and Days 1-3

Smithsonian: July 4-9

Smithsonian: July 10-12 The End

Also check out what Smithsonian and Peace Corps wrote about us on these links:

Smithsonian article on the Tongan weaving exhibitPeace Corps feature on us (check out the other presenters' profiles, they are amazing)Peace Corps photo summary on the exhibits, including TongaPeace Corps event summary on the extra demonstration we did at the Textile MuseumSmithsonian "Peace Corps Kids" feature on TongaPeace Corps pictures of our booth

Imagine you are walking around Nuku’alofa, and you turn a corner and find the street jammed full of vehicles and people all headed for an open field covered by tents. You wonder what all the commotion is about, so you ask someone what is going on. They tell you that this is the church conference, and that you should come eat at the meal that is just about to start. So how do you proceed, and what do you have to look forward to?

The Conference Feasts seat over three-thousand people 4 times a day for seven daysMy blue badge is my entry ticket to the feasts and lets the other participants know where I work

First, this is a church event for all the members from all over Tonga and the rest of the world who have come together for the annual meetings. If you are remotely connected to the church, you are welcome. But as a foreigner, you are doubly welcome because Tongans love to share big events with visitors, regardless whether they are part of that church or not. The whole church is reconvening after a year apart, so this is cause for celebration similar to a family reunion on a grand scale.

All the schools welcome the visitors for the Conference. Many stay here at the all-girls college.

As soon as you walk up to the gate, ushers in white shirts greet you, and motion you to follow them. They lead you past rows and rows of tables, each stacked higher than the last with plates and plastic containers brimming with every manner of food. Finally, they motion you to sit at a table and disappear.

Tables are all prepared and benches put down as the food for the feast starts to arriveTables are decorated with centre pieces contain fruit, candy, soft drinks, and chips for the guests to take home

You look around and there are a few middle-aged and older women sitting at the table, and a small army of children and adults still setting out yet more food on the tables around you. Each family from a church prepares one or two tables-worth of food, feeding between 25 and 50 people.

Some guests arrive early, sitting at tables prepared by friends or family

People begin to flood into the tented area from every direction, all dressed in their best traditional clothing. Many of these people are getting out of annual church meetings making decisions for the next year. There are so many people that it makes sense to arrive 30 minutes to an hour early to make sure you have a seat.

Elena and I are invited to sit at the table prepared by some good friends of oursFriends will tell you to come to a particular feast because the food will be very good. Occasionally special dishes like savoury meatballs and potatoes appear at feasts.

If someone in particular has asked you to come to the feast, find their table. They probably will not be able to sit with you because they are busy serving the food, but it is usually more fun and less overwhelming if you know the hosts.

Elena's counterpart with her two cooks waiting on the table they prepared

The family that prepares the table sits at the end making sure that all of their guests have enough to eat and drink

Pretty soon, every table is packed to the max, and there are still people coming in, but nobody is touching the food. Everyone waits until the prayer for the meal has been said before they begin eating. If you understand Tongan you will catch the queue; if you don’t, it is when the whole conference gets quiet and you can hear one person at the microphone. As soon as the pastor is finished, everyone tears into the food.

Elena waiting with friends for the feast to begin

As you begin to eat, you will notice a few constants, no matter where you sit. First, there’s always a large plate of root crop, usually the big yams called ‘ufi. The second is a warm, spit-roasted pig with crispy skin. Both of these are wrapped in foil until the meal begins, but as they are delicacies, they are attacked quickly.

Roasting the pig can take a couple of hours so it is good family timeThe pig is roasted until the skin is glistening and crispy, and the fat is dripping into the coalsPig is best when it is warm and crispy so is wrapped in foil. One must break through the skin and tear out the flesh beneathSome of the best meat from the pig is along the backbone and on the front shoulders

The rest of the food varies, but usually includes shellfish, macaroni salad, sweet and sour chicken, etc. If you are lucky, there will be lobster as well.

A friend's table laden with lobster, stuffed pig and chicken, delicious salads, and other delicaciesA volunteer friend enjoys a feast with us

During the feast, you will notice a steady stream of groups walking up the aisles to the head table at the front of the feast. They are dancing, and carrying large, intricately woven mats and painstakingly printed tapa cloths, and they present these to the church and the honoured guests.



These men and women are preparing to dance before the head table during their presentation of gifts to the churchTapa and woven mats being presented as gifts

Towards the end of the meal, you will notice that people have stopped eating, and are beginning to pack up food in bags. Because there is so much food prepared, guests are encouraged to take food home with them to family members who were not able to attend. This makes the host's job in cleaning up much easier.

Delicious Octopus seared and then cooked in coconut milk.An octopus and vegetable salad made from leftovers from the feast

As you begin to leave, you notice people everywhere taking the chance to catch up. The conference really gives the Tongan Diaspora community the opportunity to reconnect with their friends and family back in Tonga, and many use this as an opportunity to hold family and community reunions.

The Conference provides a good opportunity to meet and talk with people after long times apart

Most of these pictures were taken at the 88th Annual Conference of the Free Wesleyan Church of Tonga. This conference happens every year, and the general purpose of the feasts is to feed all the people coming into Nuku'alofa for the meetings, church services, concerts, fund-raisers, and competitions going on during during the conference.

All the gathered church administrators make the decisions

that will guide the church bodies for the coming yearAll of the major decisions for the Free Wesleyan Church are announced during the conference; pastors are given their parish assignments, teachers are placed at schools,and administrators are appointed to the businesses and offices of the church. The other major decision made at each conference is who will be elected as the President and the General Secretary. This year, Rev. Dr. 'Ahio and Rev. Dr. Tevita Havea were both kept in their respective offices, so not changes were made to the very top level of the church leadership.

At this time next week, Mele, a Tongan artisan, and I will be making our way through U.S. customs with four full suitcases of Tongan crafts, heading to Washington D.C. We are attending the Smithsonian Folklife Festival as presenters of Tongan handicrafts; Mele will spend the two week festival demonstrating and discussing weaving techniques using lou'akau, or pandanus leaves, while I do my best to answer questions about Tonga and some of the work that I have been doing with handicrafts through Peace Corps.

The festival will be held on the National Mall between the Smithsonian Museums every day from June 30-July 4 and July 7-July 11 and will have three main sections: Columbia, Rhythm and Blues, and Peace Corps. We'll be in our own booth in the Peace Corps section for anyone who wants to come by, watch Mele weaving, try on a traditional Tongan outfit, or just chat.

In addition, we'll teach four small cooking classes on several iconic Tongan dishes at different times during the two weeks. Check out a schedule at the festival, or on the website to find out when.

We'll also be giving a weaving demonstration and participate on a panel at the Textile Museum on July 6th with a group of Columbian weavers, and I'll be part of several different panels throughout the festival.

And when we're finally back in mid-July, after I sleep for about 5 days straight, I will write all about it on a blog post for everyone to read and see!

Our Full `Eua FlightLast Tuesday, I received an urgent phone call, "Mark, we need to get to the airport soon because it is very crowded, and if we miss our flight, we will miss our opportunity to go to `Eua!" We had to catch one of the five flights that day to a small island that normally only gets two flights at most. There were so many people on standby for other flights that the airline continued to schedule additional flights for the next few days and still could not keep up with the demand. The normal one ferry-a-day was bumped up to two standing room only trips with three times the number of passengers they normally carry. So what was suddenly drawing an additional thousand people to the tiny island of `Eua?

This year marks the 50th Anniversary Jubilee of Hofangahau College, the only Wesleyan secondary school on `Eua. For four days last week, former teachers, students, and anyone who had ever had anything to do with the school flooded back to `Eua for three days of feasting, ceremony, dancing, marching, donating money, and generally catching up. For that week, the tiny island of normally 4,000 inhabitants doubled in size.

The Jubilee GateWe arrived in `Eua on the wings of rain, and as we were landing, a rainbow formed over the runway, promising an excellent visit. We arrived at the school just as the first feast was getting rolling, and were digging into the roast pig in the centre of the tables just as the Hofangahau students filed onto the field to do a collective dance. As we moved on to the octopus and other little delicacies, the boys joined in and did their very active side of the dance to counter the girls' fluid, graceful movements. By the time the dancers were finished, the crowd was ecstatic and was jumping up to stick money on the dancers to show their appreciation of the performance. The whole evening then began to wrap up as the sun dropped to the horizon, but the day wasn't over yet! That evening, everyone gathered together for a choir night that ran most of the night.

The Tau'olunga by a visiting New Zealander

Hofangahau VolunteersThroughout the celebration days, I enjoyed catching up with the three other Peace Corps volunteers connected with the school that had come to celebrate the anniversary. When Elena and I were moved to the main island from `Eua last year, another volunteer, Ashley, was able to move to my site at the school and take over from me. When finished her service at the end of last year, she was promptly replaced by Paul and Bre who live there now. Everyone loved that Ashley, Paul, and I were all there to take part in the festivities.

After the mad rush of arriving on that first day, everything picked up speed and intensity even more. The second day started with "The March of the Alumni," a time-honoured tradition at every school anniversary in Tonga. Important events here often feature marches. There was a festive mood as everyone trooped up the main road in `Eua to the village across from Hofangahau school in little groups to start the parade, and after waiting for everyone to assemble, we were off! The 1960 group headed the line, proudly waving their placard, and the following groups performed for the crowds that had gathered to watch. The march wound its serpentine way through the village and back to the school before breaking to allow the alumni to have a ceremony with the main dignitaries of the Wesleyan Church.

March of the AlumniAfter another feast that probably fed half of the island, it began to rain. Undeterred, the performances blithely pushed on and tents were hurriedly erected over the drums and musicians. The students started with individual dances representing their own villages, with girls performing varieties of the tau'olunga standing dance. We three volunteers unashamedly captured the whole event on film and had the best view as the students danced. As things wound down, everyone made their way up to the largest village on the island for a singing competition including not only singing groups, but all the best dancers from `Eua and beyond.

Master Dancers of the Tau'olunga from `Eua

Queen Halaevalu Mata'ahoOn the last day of the celebration, the Queen of Tonga arrived. In a chair bedecked with tapa and Tongan mats, she sat through the entire ceremony of the unveiling of a new school monument, received gifts, gave gifts, and regally presided over the event. Hofangahau is one of the smallest secondary schools in Tonga, and although she just celebrated her 85th anniversary, the Queen made sure to be there. It was an enormous honour to have her attend, and was truly appreciated by all the guests.

Gifts of Tapa Cloth

Packing everything upThose who prepared the event hadn't slept for four days. Home chefs were up throughout each night making food for the next feast, and so in the aftermath, everyone was dead on their feet. The school rugby field was churned into mud and there were hundreds of tables, benches, chairs, and tents to return to the various communities on the island.

But despite the colosal amount of work, the rainy weather, the lack of sleep, and the immense co-ordination of visitors, the Hofangahau team and local villages pulled off a great event. It brought together alumni from all over Tonga, Australia, New Zealand, and the US, was specially presided over by the queen, and raised enough funds for the school to build a home economics room, technical building, and much-needed staff housing. What a success.

Hofangahau College where the Jubilee was held

Gather around for a blood-chilling story, a tale to make your scalp crawl, a mental picture so terrifying it makes babies cry and young children gasp with fright. This is a tale of the without a doubt, number one top pest in Tonga, a pest that puts all other pests to shame. That number one top pest, ladies and gentlemen, is .... skin infection.

For some reason, skin infection in the Pacific is particularly, shall we say, virile.

Pacific staph encountering American staph is like the Rock towering next to a skinny, pimply 13-year-old and booming down to him "WE'RE RELATED," and then glaring out at you in no-necked scary-muscle intensity. "Ouch!" I said to the Rock. "Your bulging muscles scare me!" but he paid me no attention, and kept gnawing on my hand.

It started as a little bump on my forefinger, where a tiny paper cut had healed just days before. Three days later, it had swelled to twice its size and a rapidly expanding white area had appeared on its surface. I could almost watch it spread over the top of my forefinger's first knuckle.

Jacinta, the Peace Corps nurse, whom I got to know very well indeed in the next two weeks and to whom I owe my sanity, drained it and gave me antibiotics in reserve in case the swelling increased. And increase it did. Before I knew it, my whole finger was an enormous red sausage that no longer looked like part of my hand. Barely 4 days after it had appeared, it was all I could do to keep from passing out because of the pain. I spent the week in bed, alternating strong pain medication and antibiotics and debating with myself about the long-term liver damage of taking more pain pills. I didn't sleep for three days, and it just kept getting worse.

If you're easily queasy, skip down past the tabbed in part. This is nasty. When Jacinta came over twice a day to change the bandage and check on me, I had to steel my stomach just to look at what was waiting underneath. My finger started to look like someone taken out everything under the skin and replaced it with ground meat, which was slowly leaking out one end. They also don't tell you that when your skin swells up so much, the top layer eventually dies and creates a deformed shell over the new skin below. And so the combined effect was a rigor mortis finger with hamburger bubbling out one end. I was finally one of those textbook medical photos; in fact, I surpassed some of those photos.

Looking back, I'm still mystified as to how I got it. I don't work with kids, or on a farm, or in any particularly dirty environments, and in the tropical climate, daily showers are mandatory. It's just a nasty, persistent little bug that gets in any way it can. Other volunteers and Tongan friends who've had this can empathize, unfortunately.

Now, over a month later. One of these things is not like the other...Jacinta, the nurse, said some great things to me throughout the long course of all of this.The first one I posted on Facebook:"Your finger hurts so much because the infection is eating down towards the bone" "Stop playing with your fingernail [on that finger], I'm afraid it's going to fall off." (it didn't fall off) "It's getting better. You don't believe me? It looks so much better. It really will get better.... I know.... It still looks disgusting but it looks so much better. ""I'm almost as tired of looking at your finger as you are!""Yes, it will probably eventually straighten out that bent angle if you keep exercising it. Your alternative to it bent was to lose the whole finger altogether, so let's be glad that didn't happen!" "See this scar on my finger? After it got cut, I couldn't feel the side of my finger for a long time after that, but eventually the feeling returned. You'll be like that."But, the spoonful of sugar in this bitter medicine -- sing with me!-- was that I had some amazing support.

Besides Jacinta's twice-daily visits- even on weekends- my two closest co-workers/friends showed up halfway through my long two-weeks bedridden with armfuls of fresh veggies and fruits: pak choy, cucumbers, apples, pears, papayas, eggplant, and even a watermelon. "These are to help you feel better," they said, and gave me a card from the staff at work. Later, Mark's co-worker came by; she had heard about my being sick from Mark, and dropped off two huge bags of bananas. Having your insides coming out the end of your finger is somehow much more bearable when eating a pear for the first time in almost two years, given by a friend.

After the excruciatingly long time of two weeks in bed, I finally started getting better and went back to work, somewhat more pale than usual.

Its been over a month, and with some concentration I can straighten the errant finger, and it can almost join the others when making a fist.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: The number one top pest in Tonga.

Addendum: If you've never been to Tonga and you're now scared out of your mind to visit lest the same thing should happen to you, don't worry. The reason I got slammed so hard was because my immune system was already pretty weak because of a string of other things it's had to fight with. Skin infections can get bad in this region, but it is not super common to get an infection this serious, especially on your finger. It's even less of a worry if you treat every single cut you get with soap and water and antibiotic ointment. So fear not. Come to Tonga. It's worth the risk.

The ta'ulunga dancers from Queen Salote CollegeWe sat on rough cement bleachers, looking out into the bright tropical sun at row upon row of uniformed young adults, color-coded, it seemed, into large blocks stationed around the track field. A line of girls started padding out from the right of the field, their coconut-oiled feet crossing the white track lines painted on the rubber surface, their shiny hands held together before them at eye level in a graceful dancing posture. It was time to start the next performance.

The spectacle looked like a marching band competition to my unaccustomed eyes: orderly blocks of young people, blending together in uniforms of blue, red, green, and white, each taking the field in succession to present their performance. All of this was part of the Queen Mother's five-day, 85th birthday party.

The Queen is particularly beloved by everyone in Tonga for her sincere love and respect for Tonga's people and culture, and her involvement in much that goes on in the country. Many had flown in from overseas just to be here to celebrate her birthday, and when shouts went up of "Long live the Queen!" people really meant it. Everyone sincerely hopes that she will stay well and active for a long time to come.

"Jesus loves you Queen Halaevalu Mata'aho.

Praise the Lord Queen Mother happy long life.

Happy birthday your majesty Queen Halaevalu Mata'aho God bless you."

The celebration had kicked off with a midweek "tea" at the palace that the older generation of ladies who were invited had looked forward to all year. Dress was strictly non-Tongan, and invitees came dressed in costumes from Papua New Guinea, England, Samoa, and every other country that caught fancy. There was great demand for clip-on earrings that day.

A stick dance by Apifo'ou College, with two schools lined up behind

Friday dawned, and all the schools which had been preparing for weeks trouped out to the stadium and awaited the parade, winding through the city center, to arrive, and the Queen to signal the start of the programme. The first group of students patiently stood, ready to perform, for an hour and a half before the festivities were ready to start.

Each of the large schools in the area performed a number, carefully lining up behind the previously performing group before they went on, which looked to us like an army ready to take over a weaker opponent. The effect was most pronounced when a large school started lining up while a small school was finishing their performance; in the front of the field danced the small group of young adults, while from all three remaining sides, rows upon uniformed rows marched in unison, about to converge in the centre.

The performances themselves were very good. One sang professional-quality choir pieces, another played brass band numbers, and others did sitting dances, standing dances, stick-tapping dances, and war dances. A particularly memorable show was an unusually large-scale war dance by one of the secondary schools, in which all of the men performing wore tall red and white paper-mache type cone hats. We sat directly behind the VIP section in the middle of the stadium, and watched with dog-like eyes as that section was served plates of fresh fruit, cold coconuts, and pastries. The programme had extended well past lunchtime. We calmed our rumbling stomachs and stayed until the last number, carefully slipping out before all the crowds could stampede out at the end of the show.

'Atele College performing the large scale kailao, this section in red hats

Sunday ended the celebrations with a special service at the King's Church, a huge Wesleyan structure near the middle of town. We dressed to the nines in our best formal wear, and walked the two blocks from our house in the crisp Tongan winter morning air. The church was especially packed, and we saw many people we knew who had also shown up for the service. In attendance were the Maori King and Queen, on a visit from New Zealand, the Samoan Head of State and his wife, the First Lady of Fiji, and of course the King of Tonga and his mother, the birthday-celebrating Queen. We could see them all sitting in the royal box to the left of the pulpit.

Queen Salote girls singing Happy Birthday in church

After the service, many of those in church walked down the street for a birthday lunch on the Palace lawn, by invitation only, held on linen-draped round tables with red velvet monogrammed chairs under a large red tent.

Today, when I went in to work, my colleagues greeted me jokingly with "Hey, were you tired in church yesterday? We saw you there, yawning!" The morning service had aired on TV later that night, and the cameraman had panned over us, catching me at just at the wrong (or right!) moment. Being pale in a sea of golden brown faces doesn't do anything for camouflage.

The Kermadec ProjectLast night, we got to share in a tiny part of an environmental project that's using art to spread it's message. As we arrived, the dusky night was spreading along the Nuku'alofa harbour, and we stepped into a white balconied wood floored italian restaurant, packed with art, people, and sauna-like air. The event, jointly put on by the PEW Environment Group and On The Spot Arts Initiative, was like an overseas gallery opening: beautifully displayed pieces, nice lighting, and a steady stream of appetizers

We were all there to welcome nine famous New Zealand based artists stopping in Tonga as part of the Kermadec Project, named after an undersea trench that stretches from New Zealand to Tonga. In order to raise awareness about this beautiful and fragile part of the Pacific, the group of artists are taking this voyage, to be followed by a gallery show in November displaying their pieces based on the experience.

Elizabeth Thomson Conversation ebbed and flowed. Phil Dadson showed me the surprisingly instrument-like sounds he'd been experimenting with, created by a pair of smooth "singing stones," opening and closing his hand as he struck the stones together to produce a hollow, slightly eerie "woao woao" sound. Robin White explained her previous work in Fiji with two Fijian artisans, in which they jointly designed a fusion of Fijian bark cloth designs combined with Indian moteifs on marriage bark cloth, to symbolize the (somewhat tumultuous) "marriage" of cultures in Fiji. I was struck by the simple beauty of Elizabeth Thomson's work in wood and leaf-cast bronze, and wished there was enough time to learn from every artist there.

After an hour of schmoozing, it came time for the programme to start. Each artist gave a brief talk about their work, the audience enraptured with bright eyes and foreheads shining with sweat in the close air. I went outside with the rest of the On The Spot dancers, and started stretching in the cool night breezes, preparing for our number. For the last few months I've been part of the dance squad, and our performance that night was a jointly choreographed a short number to an industrial-sounding song by Basement Jaxx. At the end of the piece, we were sweaty, filled with adrenaline, and the crowd was clapping. Fascinated onlookers

Most of the artists are returning home in the next day or two, starting to work on their exhibition pieces for a show about the whole experience at the Tauranga Gallery in New Zealand. This will hopefully be one piece in gaining support for the marine reserve that encloses the Kermadec ridge, and a step in gathering public and political support for it to stay that way -- a reserve, rather than a recently-proposed oil drilling site.

The idea started as a little thought that simply consisted of "Two years is so short!" but grew to "What if we stay for a third year through Peace Corps?" as we fell in love with Tonga.

Volunteers are always the ones with the bike helmets and life vests

While we looked at schools, applied for jobs, and considered where we would live next, the idea was always there: we could stay in Tonga. Always heavily promoted by Peace Corps, volunteers usually have the option of staying for a third or fourth year, if their ongoing job is something that is sufficiently worthy.

We have always had serious possibilities elsewhere we're considering, but the closer we got to December, the more that it seemed like a good idea to postpone other ideas for a year to finish our work here in 2012.

So naturally, our faces dropped when the email came from our Peace Corps country director, saying, "PC/Tonga is authorized for only two 13-month extensions, which both need to be in the Primary School arena," which in regular English means that Mark and I cannot finish the many plans we have in Tonga after this December through Peace Corps.

The lack of extension spots comes ultimately from changes that Peace Corps is making in the Tonga post. Faced with volunteer dissatisfaction at the quality of training; a poorly designed strategic plan; increasing intake of volunteers from Australia, Japan, and independent organizations; budget difficulties from the US Government; and concern over the safety of volunteers placed on remote islands, Peace Corps Headquarters decided to step in. Despite input to the contrary from Tongan school administrators and current volunteers, Peace Corps cut the other volunteer positions in vocational skills, business advising, and secondary school education so that the next group of volunteers to come in will be uniformly teaching English in Tongan primary schools.

It's a sad day for us and for all those organizations that badly needed a vocational teacher, IT help, or a business advisor.

But ultimately, life -- Tonga -- goes on. Those organizations will find creative ways to work around their challenges, and we are excited about the creative options we have for after this December. Whether it's finding a job that will allow us to stay in Tonga for a little while longer, doing graduate arts research in New Zealand, applying for school and work in Rome, or living out of a tent, selling handmade journals and computer help for a while, it will sure be an adventure to come. Now, whose back yard can we camp in!

The limu is kept fresh insideWhen I see a triangle-wrapped leaf package I know there's bound to be something good inside. At feasts, little leaf packages hold fai kakai, a delicious cassava sweet, dripping in caramely coconut sauce. During Sunday dinner, larger green parcels sometimes hold lu, our favourite special dish of taro leaves wrapped around meat and cooked in coconut milk. This week, it happened to be limu.

My coworker and I eagerly walked outside when we heard that there was limu for sale. There stood a large tub of bowling ball-sized green triangle packages, being watched over by a saleswoman and a small kid. To show us how fresh it was, she unwrapped one of the parcels to reveal a shining pile of little green clusters that looked like their rather uncreative English name: sea grapes.

Inside the wrapped leaves

In Tonga, like in Hawaii, the word for seaweed is limu, but unlike Hawaii, there's only one common type generally available. The first time we had it was at the huge annual church conference last year as we were sitting at a feast table sampling the various dishes. The little clusters were in coconut cream with corned beef, onions, and garlic, and it was a nice lighter contrast to the heavy roast pork and fried chicken.

The little pods close upThis kind of limu is apparently a huge delicacy in Japan, called umi budo, and is just taking hold in other parts of the world in gourmet restaurant dishes. As part of this apparent re-branding of this type of seaweed, it's now sometimes referred to as "sea caviar," which confuses me. I wonder- doesn't "regular" caviar also come from the sea? It's part of the Caulerpa racemosa seaweed family, I learned on a Hawaiian website, which is a much more helpful name, because googling "limu" to try to find this type of Tongan seaweed is like googling "vegetable" to try to find asparagus.

Its taste is unexpected, and the little crisp clusters pop as you chew them, surprisingly releasing a strong peppery salty oyster-ish flavour that perhaps is indeed a little like caviar. I took my bundle of limu home, balancing it on my handlebars and stopping for a can of coconut milk on the road: no time to grate and squeeze it fresh. I chopped up some fresh pork, dry fried it with garlic, onion, turmeric, and curry powder, and then dumped the pork in with some coconut cream and the washed limu. It was a bit of a cross between a curry and a salad, and tasted amazing for our dazzlingly hot noontime lunch break.

Limu with curried pork served on vermicelli

Although the curry addition may get quizzical looks from Tongan limu lovers, and the coconut milk might be too strange an accompaniment for a Japanese umi budo fanatic, it was a perfect lunch, the beauty of fusion cooking in Tonga. The beauty of sea grapes -- errhm Sea Caviar.

Workshop participants working on an exerciseOut in the beautiful island group of Vava'u where the clear water laps over teeming coral reef, for at least three days a week, I was inside by a wheezing copy machine, replacing page after page to copy, compiling folders of materials, and making sure for the umpteenth time that the projector worked with the laptop. The other two days were the reward: village business workshops run with my coworkers at Tonga Development Bank.

Contrary to popular opinion, we do actually do a lot of work, but it's not quite as interesting as the good food we eat at feasts, the fun trips we go on, and our many cultural blunders- I mean learning- so it doesn't often enter into our blog. Village workshops are the highlight for my coworkers and I in Business Advisory Services at TDB. We travel to different places, meet real people affected by the bank, and get our normal routine shaken up a bit. It makes the copying fully worth it.We use powerpoint for the presentation sections

The people that are invited to a workshop are normally current customers of TDB from the villages around where we gather. They're held during the work day on a morning, so most of the people attending are shop owners, farmers, weavers, cooks, and creatively self-employed people. The first part of our training covers basic information about loans and services at TDB. This is often the only time that participants get to have their questions answered about how loans work, and so the question time usually lasts for a huge part of the training.

Working in groups during a business skills exerciseWe then move on to mini business skills training. The people in the workshop practice how to set up sales and expense records, fill in forms recording how much any given customer owes (which is a very, very common occurrence), and we recently added a section covering basic marketing, inventory, pricing, and fraud control. Almost every family has someone at some point running at least a tiny business, whether it's selling veggies at the side of the road, baking cakes for the saturday market, processing kava to make into powder, or running a small dry goods store, so most of these skills are pretty useful for everyone involved.

When all the training is over, we all get to sit down and eat, because by that time it's lunchtime. The food is always ordered from a little restaurant in the area or a womens' group from the town, and usually includes fried chicken, sweet potato, lu (taro leaves in coconut milk wrapped around meat of some kind), and sometimes a couple hot dogs and a boiled egg. We drink chilled coconuts. Vava'u branch manager and a loan officer laughing during a break

I come back, and before I write the report about the training, we share any extra food with the rest of the office. Sometimes they get lucky and we have a couple of extra plates, but sometimes every single person invited shows up to the training and the office laments their bad luck.

Then while we catch up on other work, we start anticipating the next training- sometimes the next day, sometimes in four months.

Note about the title: If you recognize it, I shamelessly stole the format of the title from my favorite podcast series, How Stuff Works. And if you're wondering how we download them here with such slow internet, I'm still working through the hundreds I mass downloaded before we left Portland... good jogging material.

"Sometimes, it really pays to be Peace Corps," I thought, as I looked out the open helicopter door into an areal view of clear water filled with colourful reef. I looked back at the helicopter that Mark was in, circling above a spit of green land, in an azure blue sky filled with puffy clouds.

The other volunteers around me wore the same wide-eyed, open mouthed expression that was on my face, like the expression on a kid's face if you told her Willy Wonka's chocolate factory was real and she had an all-year pass to swim in the chocolate river.

It was the grand finale in a tour of the USS Cleveland, the US Navy ship that docked in Neiafu, Vava'u several days prior.

Along with Navy from Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, and the Philippines, the US Navy is here for Pacific Partnership, a programme in which the representatives from the various countries travel around doing humanitarian missions; running free clinics, teaching workshops, doing eye checkups, building school facilities and water towers, among other things.

Door to get in the USS ClevelandFortuitously, right at the same time, both of our respective jobs sent us up to Vava'u, and we discovered that they were arriving just days after we were. The day of the helicopter ride, we woke up early, and met most of the Vava'u volunteers for the dinghy ride to the ship.

It's a huge ship up closeThe door was quite a bit higher than the water, so we all had to take the exciting rope ladder one step at a time, wearing helmets and life vests and looking stylish. Everyone was a bit nervous about the steep climb, but we all made it with no mishaps- even the girls wearing skirts!You're so fascinating, Mr. Tour GuideWe were greeted by a nice tour guide, who, pointing to the red and green pins on his lapels, explained to us that this meant he was the youngest on the ship at 24. The USS Cleveland, he explained, is the third-oldest vessel in the Navy; built in 1968, it was used in the Vietnam war, but now, keeps its artillery covered on its mainly humanitarian missions. Although a little antiquated, the ship was in very good condition, and the Corporal later mentioned that when it was first made, it was the ship to be on.

Bunk beds, four to a stack. I would prefer the top.Our first stop was one of the sleeping quarters, resplendent with tiny bunks and cool-looking red steps for the top bunk to climb up with. "It's a good thing you don't have any Tongans in your Navy!" said the Peace Corps nurse to our guide, "They wouldn't fit in these bunks!" The junior grade lieutenant told her that she might be surprised at some of the guys in the organization. "They fit in here somehow," he said.

Captain Picard wouldn't laugh uproariously in his command chair, unless of course he was infected with an alien virusMy favourite stop on our tour was, of course, getting to sit in the Captain's chair. It sits quite high off the ground, so everyone else's head is at knee level to the captain. I hopped up and had to entertain momentary fantasies of being Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise. I couldn't keep a straight face for very long after saying "Make it so" in my best Patrick Stewart voice. Somehow it's just not the same if you're not bald and dignified.Mark and his condimentsOne of the places that got most of the "oohs" and "aahs" from the volunteers was the mess hall. The crowd of Navy personnel talking in the corner got quite a kick out of the line of Peace Corps volunteers taking pictures of the soda machine, the grapefruit, and the table of American brands of ketchup, mustard, and mayo.

Two guys on the propellers, a guy on the ground, and a guy on the tail. Thorough maintenance. As we were walking around the massive ship, we saw several people working on the two Navy helicopters. Even just seeing the the helicopters was a novelty for most of us, and we approached them like fascinating but dangerous wild animals, not sure how close we could get.

Mark and I took a first picture quite far away, but then quickly moved in when an officer told us we could get closer. "Really?" we said, feeling a little foolish that we were so excited. The foreign service liaison from the US Department of State is a returned Peace Corps volunteer who served first in Libya and then in Iran, doing teacher training. Knowing how much it would mean to all of us, he arranged for us to take the return trip on their helicopters, which weren't being used that day and needed to be taken on a training run. We couldn't contain our excitement.

On the helicopter, geared up for the flightFinally, it was time to board the helicopters. We stood in a line in a cramped narrow corridor as they called our names from a list. "If you hear your name called, step forward!" a man with a clipboard yelled. There was general confusion and shuffle as the named individuals tried to figure out where they were supposed to go, stepping ahead, then pushing to the end of the line. We're Peace Corps volunteers, after all. This whole order and organization deal is foreign to us.

As they tried to line us up in vain on separate walls, we excitedly chatted to each other, and put on the goggles and noise cancelling helmets as they explained the rules to us. " Don't put on the helme--- mmrpphrrhh mmrhh mm safety mmrrhh --ter landing, just mmrm don't pani- mmrrph --ch your harnesses ..." The safety talk was best without the helmet on, as they said.

Flight deck personnel in their colourful uniforms, watching the Peace Corps volunteers get tangled in their harnesses.Mark and I were in separate groups, so I waved goodbye to him as we walked carefully towards the helicopter. "Walk toward the copter only at 10 or 2!" our safety officer said. "Don't walk at 11 or at 3, or anywhere else, because the blades can slice you up!" Confused looks around. "What's 10 or 2?" the volunteer to my left asked me.

"So...uh.. if we just follow you to the helicopter we'll be ok?" someone said nervously. The Navy guy sighed. "Yes, just follow me." We officially fail at being in the Navy.

The blades are actually turning, not stationary as they seem. Really. I watched as Mark's helicopter lifted off first, over the blue Vava'u water. Before long, we were smoothly gliding up into the air, the open door a foot from my left foot giving me dizzying nearly-360 views of the Vava'u landscape. I thought of Planet Earth as I switched on the video option on our clunky personal camera. "And the snow bison gracefully gallop across the icy terrain..."

Mt Talau, east of the main city, Neiafu.After watching so many Planet-Earth areal shots, I somehow had gotten the notion into my head that a helicopter was a smooth, quiet ride, circling above the landscape gracefully. It is not. My videos, though gorgeous, look like they were filmed from a car on dirt roads with no suspension, and sound like the middle of a hurricane.

Vava'u is dotted all over with islands and promontories

The reef extends this island

Banking around a cliff-lined beachWe circled around most of Vava'u, looking out toward the outer islands, sweeping over mangroves and barely-submerged reefs.

Foreign Service Liaison and our pilots. Thanks guys!

Finally it was time to land, and we alighted like two giant dragonflies on the Vava'u airport runway, breathless and with eyes still shining from the ride.

More about Pacific Partnership, some already linked to in the blog:

US Pacific Fleet website

Pacific Partnership Blog

US Dept of State Blog section by Tom Weinz

Wikipedia on Pacific Parnership

The Octopus and the Mouse0.7m x1m, acrylic on canvas4/2011One day a very long time ago, a small, clever mouse was out on a fishing boat in the middle of the sea. It was a very small boat and a very small mouse, so when the boat tipped in a wave, the mouse found himself tossed out into the wide blue ocean, swimming for his life. The fishermen had gone far, far out on this trip, hunting for the fish that swam only in the deep dark parts of the water, and there was no land in sight.

The waves tossed the little mouse back and forth, and the mouse started to become very worried. He looked down at his swimming feet, and saw all the creatures swimming comfortably under the water. "If only I could swim like them!" the mouse thought to himself.

He was a very clever mouse, but finally, it seemed as if all his crafty ways had deserted him, stranded now in the middle of the wide blue ocean. But the mouse didn't give up hope. Deep below him, he saw an octopus swimming in the dark depths. "Octopus!" he called, "Help me! I'm about to drown, and need to get to land!"

The octopus surfaced and looked at the little wet mouse. "Why should I help you?" the octopus said. "The nearest island is a long way away, and I will be very tired taking you there," he complained, gesturing in the direction of the island. The clever mouse had an idea. "If you take me to land," the mouse said, "I will pay you handsomely for your troubles. I have many good things on the island there, if you will just take me. You won't regret it."

The octopus, wondering what treasures the mouse had hidden on land, agreed to take him, and told the mouse to hop up onto his head. The mouse was very tired, and gratefully climbed up on to the octopus's head as the octopus started swimming toward shore.

Now the island was a very long way away, and the mouse had had quite a fright. They went up and down waves, passed by sail fish and sea snakes, and skirted around large beds of seaweed until the sun was low in the sky. Finally, the mouse could see the shallow ocean bottom and the little puffy sea cucumbers that lived there, near the shore. They had come to his island!

The octopus swam right up to the island, and the little mouse hopped off of his head and onto the warm sand. Saved, at last! The mouse looked back at the octopus from the safety of shore and laughed. "Thank you!" he said.

"Where's my payment?" the octopus demanded. "Why, I've already left my payment for you," the mouse replied, "just look on your head!"

The octopus reached up and felt three little mouse pellets left there, and the mouse ran away into the trees, laughing.

And that is why fishermen always use a mouse to catch the octopus from the deep blue ocean, because ever since, the octopus has been trying to catch the mouse that so insulted him.

- A Tongan story

What's in a name? He whom we

call Puke in any other language

would still smell as sweet.When I first met someone called Puke, I was, to say the least, confused. My bewilderment wasn't at all diminished when I learned that puke (pronounced poo-kay) is the Tongan word for "to be sick," bearing an uncanny resemblance to it's English meaning. But Puke doesn't mind his name, which is actually a shortened version of a longer name, and the sidelong glances I kept expecting when people met him were just nonexistent. I was the only clueless foreigner snickering at my own tasteless joke. It just wasn't an issue.

Naming in Tonga is a unique and important topic. Often, people can trace their entire family line through their last name, and know that certain families are renown for high status, for producing many church pastors, for being very kind and reliable, for having the familial honour of serving the King's kava, or having baked the late Queen's bread. All the noble names are another matter altogether; immediately recognizable, and irrefutably noble.

When a baby is born, the father's oldest sister gets to choose the first name, and often, people choose old family names to carry on a memory. The most common names are the Tonganized British-sounding names:

John Tonganized to: Sione

William Viliami

Jane Seini

Alfred Alifeleti

Robert Lopeti

Mary Mele

There are the Marys and the Janes, and plenty of Maryjanes (Meleseini, which doesn't carry the same connotation as it does in English), but that girl I knew in highschool named Summer would not be out of place among the many creative names that are popular here. It is very common for both men and women to be named 'Ofa, (Love, in Tongan), and other names get even more creative.

One of my favourite names, first and last name, translated into English, was First one Late from the House. It isn't uncommon to see names, that translated into English, lose all of their meaning and become quite different. We know people named: Hurricane, Tower, Big Ship, Rocket, First, Eight, Mother, Journey, and Israel. Eventually, the names become in our minds what they are intended to be: simply a poetic name for a person.

Sometimes, we get incredibly confused when a person is called by the English version of their name, when all along, we've been using the Tongan one. A friend and colleague at work is called Sina- her full name is Siosina, or in English, Georgina. The other day, a mutual acquaintance told me "So I saw Georgina the other day and we talked about the great lunch we'd had." "Who?" I asked. "You know, Georgina. You work with her." It took me embarrassingly long to realize that she was talking about the friend that I see and work next to every single day of the week. "Ohhhh, you saw Sina!" I finally exclaimed.

But with the surplus of unique names, some are still very unfamiliar. When I introduce myself verbally as "Elena" (Pronounced Eh-LEH-nah), I get a host of interpretations back. "Alina," "Elina," "ElenAH," "Elenoa," (the Tonganized Eleanor), and "Helena". I don't mind, but always chuckle a little when someone introduces Mark and I, and, being much more familiar with Mark's common name, they refer to us in a thank-you speech or a prayer as "Ma'ake mo .. hono hoa," or "Mark and his partner," a very respectful and careful way to refer to us!

My name, which is virtually the same pronunciation in Spanish, Russian, Greek, and English, is at least not quite as strange to Tonga as some. My absolute favourite English name has been that of a recent candidate for Parliament. He is named Seventeen (not in Tongan, straight up Seventeen in English), but everyone, not just me, thought that was a bit too out of the ordinary.

In Tonga, you very quickly get used to seeing large baskets of root crop, coconuts, and huge piles of vegetables by the side of the road for sale. What you don't typically think about is how heavy root crop and coconuts actually are when you have to carry them by foot or on a bike.

Bicycles are fantastic for getting around, and they give you a fun excuse to exercise, but they usually do not come equipped to carry cargo right out of the box. For this you need racks mounted over the back or front tires, or a basket mounted on your handlebars. While in New Zealand for our early December vacation, I bought a back rack for my bike to allow us to tie things to the top and carry bags attached to its side. This has vastly increased the amount of groceries we can buy in one go, and for the first time since we moved to Tongatapu, we are willing to buy bags of root crop and coconuts (both of which are extremely heavy and difficult to transport in any quantity on foot, let alone by bicycle).

Lining the road into town, people have built quite a few stalls to sell vegetables, root crops, coconuts, and occasionally clothes. If they only sell on Saturday, then they usually line up their goods right on the side of the road or under a collapsable tent to cater to the hordes of shoppers looking for food in order to make their 'umus for Sunday lunch. Late Saturday evening, these stalls and roadside operations stay open until 10pm or midnight because people here, like everywhere else in the world, tend to wait until the last moment to do their shopping.

We went down in the late afternoon to the roadside stalls to select some veggies, sweet potato, and green coconuts to take back home. We occasionally crave these things, but as I said above, it's usually too much of a hassle to bring it all home. Well, we found some great baskets of each, so we loaded up all the coconuts until the saddlebags were bulging, then lashed the basket of sweet potatoes to the top of the rack and stuffed the veggies in wherever they would fit. Riding home, I felt like I was carrying another person, the cargo was so heavy. we made it home safely and were able to enjoy chilled green coconuts for the next week, and are still working through the sweet potatoes.

Our little trip to the market won't be repeated every week to the same extent because while we can now transport a whole basket of root crop home, we still can't eat it all within a week. However, we can bring home a lot more variety of produce so our diet will expand a bit.

Mark wearing a ta'ovalaImagine you visit Tonga and see the beautiful formal waist mats (the Tongan equivalent of a suit) that people wear and the fine mats people give at ceremonies. You decide you want to buy one, but are surprised that most regular waist mats, or ta'ovalas, cost upwards of $100 USD! You are clever with your hands, so you decide you will make one yourself. After all, it looks difficult, but how hard can weaving a bunch of strips of... something... be?

First, you need to find a pandanus plant. Or several, considering that you'll need to pick about 100 leaves from it. This is what mats are usually made of.*

Look for pandanus like these, but watch out. Non-poisonous creepy-looking 4cm-long spiders like to build webs in the groves! The next step is to remove the spiky thorns and spine from each leaf. Run a knife up along the leaf blade of each leaf. When you're done, you'll need to coil them in tight rolls to prepare them for boiling.

Removing spines from pandanus leavesNext, you'll want a very large pot, one that a small woman or a large child could comfortably hide in. They won't be hard to find, because these pots are sold everywhere in Tonga, for under $50 USD. You'll want to prepare a wood fire rather than putting it on your stove, because you'll have to boil the rolls of pandanus in it for over 8 hours, and you'll use up your stove gas. After the rolls are properly boiled, peel them apart and save only the more flexible half of each leaf.

Peeling the boiled pandanus leavesGather your flexible leaves into bundles of 20, and leave them in the sea for 8 days.

A bundle bleaching in the seawaterAfter a week, your pandanus leaves will be bleached white. Take them out of the sea, rinse them in freshwater, and coil them again.

Leaves ready to be washed and dried after their week-long soakShake out your coils, and hang them on your clothesline to dry. Once they are dry, they'll look like the picture below, and you'll be ready to start weaving. Alternatively, you could bypass all of the preparation above, and buy pre-treated pandanus rolls in the market for about $20 TOP (or $10 USD) at the market. They look like large, fibrous cinnamon rolls, and you'll need 4 for a decently-sized waist mat.

Dried, prepared leaves ready to be usedNext, wait for a good, rainy day to start weaving, preferably with a group of friends. If you're weaving alone, it may take three months of work or more to finish one mat, but with a group, it will be a quick one month's work to make one mat. Pick up one strip, and with a thin piece of metal held against the strip with your thumb, scrape along it's length to soften it up. Then, cut each wide strip into uniform smaller strips, of less than 1cm each. Line up one set of strips, and weave another strip over-under for about 5cm. Add another strip next to it and continue weaving in the same way until your mat is finished.



A half-finished mat, with long strips waiting to be woven into the next band of matFinally, you will end up with something like this:**

A fine mat, finished in the Niuatoputapu style, waiting to be sold.* These are not comprehensive instructions for weaving an entire mat. Consult with a professional before attempting this project on your own.

** Another good explanation can be found on the blog of our friends Jim and Lynn.

These beautiful pictures were taken by the Tonga Development Bank branch manager in Niuatoputapu, for our entry in the Association of Development Financing Institutions in Asia and the Pacific (ADFIAP) award for development finance-led poverty reduction.

The islands of Niuatoputapu and Niuafo'ou are northern-most in Tonga, and are actually closer to Samoa and Fiji than to the other Tongan islands. The distance between Niuatoputapu and where we live in Tongatapu is like the distance between San Francisco and LA in the US, but only if there was mostly water in between, and if both LA and San Francisco were one-onehundredth of their current size (Niuatoputapu has 1,000 people, and Tongatapu has 35,000 people). Niuatoputapu was devastated by the 2009 tsunami that affected Samoa, and many people lost their homes and livelihoods.

The bank's Niuatoputapu project helps the individuals affected by that tsunami by giving small loans to handicraft enterprises, and has already seen pretty exciting results. The creation of fine mats from pandanus leaves is one of the sole sources of income on the island, and people were devastated when approximately 58% of pandanus plants were destroyed by the 2009 tsunami. Now, the plants have grown back, allowing women, with the help of the project funds, to start weaving fine mats to be sold this June in Tongatapu at a national handicraft show. Approximately 90% of the handicrafts to be sold are funded by the bank's project.

Last year, TDB won the same award for two current projects: a microlending product and a New Zealand Aid-funded product. The microlending product helps people who have skills but no collateral to start small businesses, while the NZ product encourages small business growth within the productive sectors; Agriculture, Industry & Business, Fishing and Women Development Groups.

Last night at 7, I found myself lying in the Peace Corps medical office, feeling the particular raspy tug of nylon thread being pulled through my numbed knee. This was the first time I've ever had stitches, and maybe the only time I may ever have them on a Sunday night by a jet lagged (but exceedingly competent) doctor in a simple office with borrowed anesthetic and only one type of thick black nylon thread. It was an adventure.

The ER door, taken with my phoneAn hour before, the Peace Corps nurse and I had pulled in to the gravel in front of the emergency room to wait for the only ER doctor on a Sunday night to finish stitching up someone who'd sliced their hand across while opening a corned beef can with a knife, the preferred method of opening cans here. I hopped in with her help to sit with my leg stretched out on the scarred wooden benches, looked up to the ER door, and laughed. Set in a dingy yellow wall with a single fluorescent light above, the double doors looked like the entrance to an abandoned factory, scarred rusted red and slightly ill-fitting. Taped on it were three peeling, handwritten signs on computer paper that had different versions, in English and Tongan, of "Emergency Room - Don't Enter." I felt warm and fuzzy when I saw the sign on the other door: -- "Keep me close," it said, like some bizarre Valentine's day card- until I realized it was indicating that the door should be kept closed.

The Peace Corps nurse knew the doctor on duty, which is the only reason we went to the ER, and really the best way to get any kind of medical care here. It's always useful if you know that the doctor treating you is your cousin's wife's older sister, and graduated first in her year. Equally useful to know might be that the person administering your anesthetic is your friend's cousin's husband, who asked your friend to "do his little essay for him" on administering prescription drugs so that he could pass his class.

The stitches themselvesBut, I had to deal with neither of these, because after we'd been waiting for almost an hour, a baby came in to the ER that rightly had to take priority over my busted knee. Fortunately, Peace Corps just got a new regional doctor in, and I was his first patient! He and his wife had flown in the night before, so this was a rough orientation to his first time in the Peace Corps medical office.

What had happened was this: at 5:04PM, I was slowly pedaling along the gravel road approaching some friends' house when the neighborhood's joyous wiggly annoying dog recognizes me and runs alongside, accompanying me to their house. A pig is ambling on the other side of the road, and lo and behold, the dog knows that her destiny is being fulfilled this very second. The world will end if she does not chase this pig, even if there is a bike separating her from it! She makes a mad dash across my front wheel, the wheel goes halfway over her, and I go halfway over my bike, landing hard on the sharp rocks of the road. When I finally can stand up again, I make a halfhearted kick in her direction with my good leg, and limp inside to clean up. It's not until our friends have sat me down in the bathroom with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some gauze pads that I realize that the gash in my knee is more like a wide, gaping smile that looks like it's eating cottage cheese. I'm grossed out and fascinated, and a little faint when I realize the cut's gone all the way in to the fat of my knee. Good thing for padding.

Getting help was another adventure. Our friends helped me call the nurse, who frantically tried calling taxi after taxi so she could come treat me. Her car had been borrowed by an acquaintance and then had been driven at full speed along the pot-holed roads, popping all her tyres and severely damaging the entire body of the car. The borrower considerately returned it to her house, but never decided to pay for the damage. She couldn't get a taxi right away because on Sundays, half the taxi companies don't work, and even the ones that do only have a skeleton crew. Naturally, there are no busses either. Like the taxis, the ER was only staffed with one doctor, working frantically to take care of the cases coming in.

The moral of this story? Dogs and pigs do not go together, don't get hurt on a Sunday in Tonga, know someone when you go to the hospital, and nice doctors do a good job even when they're jet-lagged.

Coming in on the flight to 'EuaWe just got back from a lightning work trip to 'Eua last week. A perk of both of our jobs is the occasional chance to travel to another island group to help a school better develop their computer lab, for Mark, or to help run village trainings and staff trainings, for me. We took the seven-minute flight on Tuesday through thunderclouds and turbulence, and arrived back to the island that still feels a little like home even after all these months.

Mark got to do way more visiting with people than I did, as my training schedule was relatively full, but it was fun to see people again and do a little catching up. Overall, 'Eua was almost exactly the same as when we left eight months ago. There are a few more churches, a few fewer Chinese groceries. Some kids were slightly bigger, some people slightly heavier, and the food tasted even better.

A TDB training in 'EuaDuring the day, I helped run village trainings with my coworker, Folau, in which he ran a discussion and question time about the Bank's services, and then facilitated an exercise on good record keeping. A lot of people find these sessions hugely useful, because it is an easy way to get their questions answered, and helps people feel like they are working together with TDB- it being the only Tongan-owned and run bank here. We have a branch in 'Eua, but often people don't know they can go in and ask questions or receive help.

While I was helping with trainings, Mark was at our two former schools trying to get their computers into shape for this school-year. He's been helping schools get set up with the same thin client system that we started at Hango last year so that they have more work stations for the students to use. The system basically splits apart one hard drive so that 5 monitor/keyboard/mouse "stations" can run off of the same hard drive. This means huge savings in power and maintenance, aside from the savings in money when buying new computers. A school can pay for 10 computers and essentially get 50 computer workstations.

One thing that was not so fun was occasionally getting veiled guilt trips about leaving 'Eua from acquaintances. People who only heard that we were transferred tend to automatically assume that I decided to leave the school because I had decided I didn't like it (and somehow brought Mark with me... ? ... Doubly ironic because Peace Corps notoriously never switches someone's site because they just don't like it ... ) - rather than getting moved by Peace Corps administration because the job wasn't the same one they had agreed to when they first put me there. Although I had been getting very discouraged and frustrated before we left, we were always fully committed to serve the full two years at our jobs- and certainly had no intention of leaving because we weren't satisfied, and we told Peace Corps that. Even so, they thought it best to move us. So getting veiled lectures about the importance of "trying to work things out before you give up" added more pain to an already previously painful move.

We did have a lot of fun being back on the island, though. On the last night, we visited the new volunteer couple at Mark's old school. As we arrived, our friend Ki, Mark's old counterpart, drew me aside and said "I'm making an 'umu right now for you, and when it's finished, we'll bring you lu." This was at 6pm at night, and making an 'umu is no easy task, usually reserved for early Sunday morning when energy is high. Sure enough, after about three hours of talking to volunteer couple, the 'umu was done, and Ki and his wife Tine brought the four of us a heaping plate of delicious lu, with purple sweet potato and taro on the side. It was extra delicious, knowing that they went to the extra trouble, and even put carrots and tomatoes in it. We couldn't thank them enough.

An old picture of 'Oni but he still looks the same!

We also saw our old dog, 'Oni, who now lives under the house of a new volunteer couple at the high school, and who is just as stupid and friendly as ever. The guy of the couple, who's teaching math at the school, says that 'Oni loves to follow him on his bike through the other towns, but of course this leads to him getting a thorough thrashing as he passes through all the other dogs' territories. You'd think this would deter the dumb dog, but he just keeps following the bike, whimpering as he anticipates the beating that is surely coming. He's a scrappy dog and just keeps taking it and bouncing back, like a determined boxer in the ring.

The back of a truck, loaded for the beachEarly yesterday morning we were awakened by what I thought was someone running up the flight of stairs to our house, an indistinct rumble. Several seconds later, the windows started rattling, our closet swung crazily, and the whole house shook! It was a 6.1 earthquake, originating almost under Nuku'alofa! No one was hurt, and nothing was damaged, so it was little more than a jolt awake and some excitement. We had been sound asleep from a busy, fun weekend. We'd made apple pie with some friends on Friday, gone to the weekend market on Saturday morning, and capped off the day with an exciting game of ultimate frisbee, dinner, and an evening movie night with friends where we watched 12 Angry Men, which everyone loved.Which brings me to a question recently posed: "What do people do for fun in Tonga?"

In Tongan, there is no word for "fun" as the English language means it; as a time distinct from work in which enjoyment is the prime goal. But that doesn't mean that people don't find plenty of ways to relax, be in community, and enjoy themselves.

So here are some things people do for fun in Tonga:

1. Watch Filipino "movies" (novellas) or movie anthologies. For some reason, Filipino novellas are a huge hit among a certain population here. Just like I might watch 5 episodes of Mad Men on one lazy Saturday afternoon (hey I'm not saying I'm proud of it), the mostly-female population who watches novellas will joke about having stayed up way too late because they just had to find out whether the main character's baby was her husband's or not! Almost everywhere, you can get disks of cheaply pirated "action movie pack" or "Tom Cruise pack" - a collection of 4 or 20 movies along that theme. Just the other day, we watched part of Pretty Woman on a Julia Roberts pack. For those who have moral qualms with pirated ... a legit movie store would actually make a ton of money, if only they actually wanted to sell in Tonga. There is not a single alternative option here.

A cooler of chicken waiting to be barbequed

2. Go to the beach. Almost everyone loves going to the beach, and we always welcome a day in the sand, eating good food. Just like in other countries, usually the biggest beach days are around the holidays, when people have time to take a day off in sunny laziness. But if you thought that you'd pack a light swimsuit, some cold drinks, and a sandwich to take to the beach, you'd be sorely underpacked. At the very least, going to the beach means bringing huge pots of food, a truckload of mats, and usually preparing an 'umu or barbeque so that later in the day, everyone eats hot grilled chicken, lu, and sweet potatoes in a shady spot under a tree.

3. Play sports. A lot of young people will play rugby (if you're male) or netball (if you're female) during the respective seasons for those sports. Towns will play against each other in exciting tournaments that draw people from all across the immediate area. We went to the rugby tournament in 'Eua last year.

4. Go to Mormon dances, school events, and fundraising konisetis. Mormon dances are quite the scandalous event, the only place where boys and girls can hulohula, or dance at arms length like a middle-school Valentines day dance. The only place, that is, unless you are truly naughty and go to one of the small handful of nightclubs downtown. One volunteer recently went to a smashing school party, and almost everyone has been to a koniseti at some point or another, an event held to raise money in which kids and middle-aged ladies dance in the middle of the town hall, while everyone else stands outside and peeks in the windows.

These friends aren't getting drunk, but rather creatively trying to finish some juice. But oh what a way!

5. Get drunk. Unfortunately, alcohol causes most of the accidents and police incidents especially here in the city, and it is mostly small groups of young men who choose to partake. We've always been a bit surprised here that there is no mid-ground in drinking; either you never touch alcohol, or you regularly drink a handle of cheap vodka in one night. Our guess is that perhaps the people who drink to extreme excess are unconsciously applying the same principles they use with food: "food will go bad, so it must be finished." Happily, I think, for the extreme drinkers, there's emerging another way of drinking -- "to drink like a foreigner" means to have one drink, and then stop, like a having a beer with food.

6. 'Eva. ('Eh-vah) This delightful word is untranslatable into English, meaning something like "ramble," "roam around," "sightsee," "visit people spontaneously," or "wander," and when someone asks you where you're going, most people will say "eva pe," or "I'm just wandering around." Usually when you 'eva, you walk around the neighborhood, visiting with people, enjoying the air, and talking with whom you are with.

7. Talk. Talking is a huge art, and people greatly admire someone who can tell a good story, make fun of someone subtly and genially, or outright tell a good joke. At a kava circle, the kava is poured into the cups by a young, unmarried woman called the tou'a, and the best tou'as are the ones who can give funny yet modest, subtle, witty comebacks to the raunchy jokes that the men throw her way.

8. Drink kava. Only if you're male, that is. Depending on personal preference, guys will join a kava circle once a week or sometimes every single night, and most kava circles stretch late into the night as conversation spins and gradually the participants drop off to sleep. It's not uncommon to see a male colleague stumble into work red-eyed and bleary. "Fu'u lahi inu kava?" we ask. Did you drink too much kava? Kava is an important time for people to catch up personally as well as decide what to do in the community. There is usually a short kava circle before church and at every significant reunion event, as well as just informal community circles throughout the week.

Thanks to NTKT for the inspiration for this post

The Hon. Princess Pilolevu laughing with Langafonua leadership The doors, closed, were guarded by the Royal army, and it was hot. The crowd in the room was slowly melting into their chairs, the women vainly trying to slow the melting process with the slow flap of woven fans. The only breath of cool air in the room was coming from a solitary electric fan, pointed at the most distinguished guest of honour, the current king's sister, Princess Pilolevu.

We were next door to the handicraft centre where I help out, gathered in the central room of the Langafonua women's association for the official opening of the Royal Art Gallery and Demonstration Village. This was a big day; the collection of royal portraits and the two fine mats displayed in plexiglass cubes are the first and only museum area showcasing Tonga's governmental history in the entire country.

One of the things that we and many Tongans lament is the lack of publicly-accessible history anywhere in the islands. In New Zealand, you can get a well-done historical education at Te Papa museum, in the US, you can browse the Smithsonian Museum of American History, but here in Tonga, you have to find someone to ask, and that has as much a likelihood of producing a real history as it does a creative fictional one!

A fale in the Demonstration Village set up for tapa making

Things already don't last very long in this climate, and much of the material history of Tonga only exists in people's memories. In a rapidly globalizing culture where most people even in the countryside prefer ("new and modern") messy, burn-prone foil packets rather than ("old and backward") biodegradable, clean banana leaf packets to cook their Sunday 'umu, ancient items often get forgotten. The now mostly defunct Tonga cultural center once had a kalia, a beautiful traditional Tongan canoe, which, because of it's size, was left outside in the elements until this exquisite piece of history disintegrated into the grass.

Everyone at Langafonua is, then, very excited about this new semi-museum space right in the middle of town; it has immense potential. The other area officially opened this last week was the Demonstration Village, a beautiful collection of Tongan fales built behind the new Royal Art Gallery and the Handicraft Centre building. Mats lie under shady woven roofs, kava bowls sit ready for mixing, Tongan pillows are scattered about for a quick nap. The Handicraft Centre (also called Langafonua Gallery) is going to start holding our weekly craft demonstrations out there, occasionally calling in extra demonstrators when a cruise ship docks and the city is flooded with expensive white faces.

Mele demonstrating kava making. Picture right is dried kava, and she's holding a strainer to filter out the powder from the water. She's just been selected go with me to this year's Smithsonian Folklife Festival to demonstrate Tongan weaving.

Both areas have a long way to go before visitors can walk up to printed information signs and be helped by a friendly docent, museum-style, but it is a huge step in a great direction, and it will be exciting to see what the future holds. Maybe we're looking at the seeds of a Tongan national museum. Who knows!

Yes that's right. My stomach is angry at me. After three months of going through every digestive test imaginable - involving x rays, blue dye, internal cameras, and loopy sedation, among others - the good news is that the doctors have ruled out everything very serious, and have concluded that I have an unusually bad case of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I was equally amused to find out that it's also called spastic colon. What a spastic, irritable bugger - who knew that my stomach had emotions!

I'd heard of it plenty before, but was surprised when the doctor explained how it works. IBS is a problem in the communication between your brain and digestive system; your brain misinterprets signals from your stomach, and tells your digestive system to speed up or slow down -- when it really shouldn't. So that deliciously creamily melting double chocolate ice cream cone I just ate ends up sitting there in my stomach, creating a nice little puddle of fermenting cream that doesn't actually get broken down in my digestive system. And its been months since I've been able to eat a double chocolate ice cream cone.

Despite a ton of testing that's been done on IBS, still no one knows what exactly it's cause is, but it seems to crop up when your stomach has been weakened (in my case by Brazilian parasites, lactose intolerance, and possible other parasites that have come and gone.)

The bad news is that it's a Syndrome, so it's kind of with me for life, and it's a particularly bad case -- but at least I can't pass it to anyone else. The way to manage it is with a restricted diet (no milk and very low gluten for me... forever perhaps), small amounts of regular exercise, probiotics (like the good little bacterias in yoghurt and kim chee), and keeping very low stress ("I'm sorry, boss, but my condition prohibits me from working extra this week..."). I'm also taking aloe vera juice, flax seed, and peppermint oil, all of which have proven to be useful in calming angry stomachs.

Maybe my stomach needs counseling: "Now stomach, what made you reject this food, cramp up, and make a lot of gas?" "Mm hmm.. I see... so what you're saying is that you feel misunderstood by the brain..."

Any suggestions from people who have encountered IBS? Conflict resolution for the stomach?

Roughly 20 years ago, the UN published an international treaty for women's human rights, called CEDAW. It calls for equal rights for women, female access to education, women's health, and calls for measures against violence and trafficking. Most prominent nations signed it: the UK, France, Germany, Russia, China, Brazil, among many others, as well as most smaller nations. So far, only a handful of countries have failed to ratify this treaty - one of them is Tonga. And another is the United States.

This past week, we've been in our Mid Service Training (MST) at Peace Corps, a time when all the Tonga volunteers come into Nuku'alofa for a week of training and reconnecting. I ran two sessions on resumes and networking, and really enjoyed several of our guest speakers, especially those from the Women and Children's Crisis Centre, the Tonga Leiti's Association, and the Salvation Army (talking about men's issues). One guest speaker slipped in at the very end of the previous session, stylishly attired in a beige linen pants suit and crisp white shirt, offset by chunky turquoise jewellery and plastic square rimmed glasses. She is prominent in Nuku'alofa; a caterer for the King, a judge on a hugely popular recent talent show, and the executive director of the Tonga Leitis' Association. Her name is Joey.

Leitis (lay-TI)s are a third gender in Tonga: as children, Leitis are boys raised as girls, but the term actually covers men who have relationships with men, men who live as women, men who occasionally dress up as women, and men who were raised as women but now are married and live as men. (Lesbians and bisexual women do not have a social classification.) Joey said, "Tonga only has one word for GLBT - that's leiti. And once you flick your finger," she said, giving a stereotypically gay hand gesture, "you're a leiti."

The term comes from "fakaleiti" or "similar to a lady," which itself comes from "fakafaafine" or "similar to a woman." Leitis are a part of life in Tonga; several months ago, everyone in town looked forward to the next night of the Miss Galaxy pageant, a talent show put on by the Tonga Leitis' Association showcasing the fashion and talents of their members, as well as educating about safe sex and condom use.

Leitis have a long history in Tonga, Joey told us. Historically, many of the King's head chefs were leitis, and families considered having a leiti for a child a big bonus- she was able to do the housework that normally only girls should do, and could culturally navigate a middle line between male and female roles that gave them a marked amount of freedom. Today, leitis are the only ones able to do condom promotion- a subject that is generally restricted in male and female roles.

It wasn't until AIDS came to Tonga in the late 80s that any social hostility towards leitis developed, unfortunately because of the ideological spillover from the rest of the world about AIDS being a "homosexual disease" and leitis having "mental health issues," to which Joey said in a crisp accent "sometimes I don't know whose more mental - they are or we are!" But today, because of the hard work of the association, an HIV test last year to all the members came up all negative- 100% HIV-free.

A speaker on mens' issues in Tonga later talked about the contrasting roles of men and women. He showed a slide of a conference several years ago with the slogan brightly painted on the banner above the participants' heads: "Real Men Don't Violence." It was just recently that domestic violence was declared to be a crime- before that, it was just a way of life because, he said, of the interpretation of the biblical passages saying the husband is the head of the household.

He especially emphasized the relative lack of freedom that women have; he said "men can go to kava [a male gathering time to sit and drink], sleep the whole next day, and the wife is left home with the kids." Generally, only men hold prominent leadership roles as well: as the town officer, minister, boss, etc. He pulled up a list of contrasts between traditional male and female roles: the "male" side listed more free time, status, money, control, opportunities, privilege, and decision making power, and for each of these qualities, the "female" side listed less.The majority of Tonga's workforce is female, but the majority of Tonga's leadership is male.

Just like socially-leading leitis, this doesn't seem to stop Tonga's women. Powerful female leaders run their husbands' businesses, do the company's work, prepare the town's feast food, and we know women leaders who run their own companies, are pastors, senior managers, and have huge standing in their communities.

Things have been changing slowly, but they do change with time - not to some Western ideal, but to a better-suited new Tongan way, one shaped by leitis, women, and men alike.

Thanks to Kira for requesting this post

Endnote: ABC news just came out with two special reports on 20/20 today relating to Peace Corps: One on a preventable murder of a volunteer in Benin in 2009 that was covered up by Peace Corps, and another on the volume of volunteer rapes that occur unknown to the public. They are sensationalistic as expected of a news story, but ... well, you decide. A similar exposé in book form was published about the murder of a volunteer here in Tonga by another volunteer in the 70s.

It's raining heavily outside, and the wind is gusting horizontally through our house, blowing the basil pots on the balcony and spraying occasionally through the open door. It's exciting cyclone season in Tonga! The past week has been a wonderful, lazy break - everyone in Mark's school office has been away for the summer holidays, and things are slow in the business advising department as the new year starts.

It's been a contrast from our daily schedules.

We often get asked what our every day life looks like, so here is one typical day for each of us:



Elena

I wake up early; it's already light, and as I get up, I hear the last bits of singing floating in from the early morning service at the church across the street. I make a cup of black tea - our powdered milk has recently been reacting badly with my stomach - and read a bit of a New Yorker in the diminishing stack sent to us by Mark's aunt. About three or four days a week, I bike down to the waterfront, and take a short jog along the water, passing the King's palace and the house where Queen Salote grew up along the way. By the time I'm back, Mark's usually up. We have breakfast together- oatmeal, leftovers, bananas, or bread. Sometimes we can find muesli (granola) and yoghurt, and we eat it every day until it runs out - and I'm out the door by 8:20, to bike in my uniform down the road to work.

When I come in to work, my two coworkers are already there, sitting behind their desks in our three-person section of the bank's main office. We talk about yesterday, plan for today, and chat about the latest news; the new Parliamentarians, an event coming up, a recent story about a coworker. If we have a training to run, it will usually be in the morning- early before the bank opens at 9 if it's for the staff - and so that fills the first part of the day. Sometimes, we pool our money and I run out to the market next door and get keke (Tongan doughnuts) for our tea time at 10AM.During the day, I work on the latest project - planning for an upcoming training, writing a business advice article, making a cash flow statement, analyzing our business needs survey data. Sometimes a client will get referred to us, and we'll visit their business, help them create records, or create a business plan with them. On slow days, I'll read business blogs, read art blogs, check email, and read Tongan news.Right around mid day, I bike home and make lunch to have with Mark - a typical meal would be sauteed eggplant in soy sauce and leftover quiche. I bike back an hour later and resume work. In the middle of the afternoon, I knock off (leave work), and stop by Langafonua, the handicraft shop, on the way back, to chat and talk about any projects that have been done or need doing. On weeks we have meetings, I'll spend an hour with the WISE board, planning the next step for the association.

Mark and I come home around the same time, after he's done all this:

Mark

I wake up, and some time after Elena gets back from exercising, I join her with a cup of black tea with lots of milk and sugar, and eat whatever breakfast we have that week. After Elena leaves for work in the morning, I get ready for work choosing a ta'ovala and tupenu, but also which shorts I'll bike in because high bars are not terribly conducive to wearing skirts. I'll be out of the door a little after she leaves, and head over to either the Wesleyan Education Office or Tupou Tertiary Institute (TTI), the two places I do most of my work.

If I go to the Education Office, I spend time talking to the various other Education Officers I work with, and then try to work out any technical problems that have come up since I last saw them, and then if I'm still around by tea time, we sit down for 15 minutes to half an hour for tea and sandwiches. Then I might update my supervisor on what I've been doing recently and then head back to TTI.

At TTI, if I go there first, I usually get in right before chapel lets out and before the rest of the guys in my office, but after the administrative staff who open everything up. We discuss what has to be done that day, whether or not a particular school has any technical issues, or if some equipment at the school is down, and then people split up and go off to their assignments.

Around noon, half the staff disappear for lunch and the other half eats in. On Fridays, the staff eats lunch together (sometimes BBQ and sometimes fluffy white bread and pats of butter with coffee or tea). On the other days, I sometimes go three blocks back home to have lunch with Elena.

Right after a trip to the marketBusy afternoons are filled with running from place to place on technical calls or meetings discussing appropriate technology for the Wesleyan schools, or whatever the matter up for discussion. However, the more common afternoon finds us chatting with each other around the office while a few take care of the last little bits of work, and others play games like Rugby 08.

After work, I pick up whatever we need that day around town. I do most of our day to day shopping because Elena has a more rigid schedule, so I'll visit the main market or the multitude of small stores in town before heading back home.

After that, Elena's day and mine become the same.

On Mondays or Tuesdays or both, we go to Tongan language class, which mainly consists of chatting with our teacher while frequently stopping to ask her questions. Midweek I (Elena) go to dance practice in the evening, usually preceded by a game of ultimate frisbee with friends and random small children in a rugby field.

Our cat's very tolerant. He just gives a sleepy blink when we swoop him up after coming home.

When both of us are back home from work, we play with the cat, read a little, watch part of a movie, paint, or finish up work projects until starting to cook. If we run out of something, Mark runs around the corner to one of the Chinese or Tongan shops and asks the woman behind the grille for whatever he needs. I don't like going out alone after dark because very, very few women walk alone at night and its a sure way to get hassled. So Mark gets the emergency groceries. We make dinner from the supplies we usually have on hand: flour, eggs, rice, butter, pasta, eggplant, cabbage, cucumber, chicken, onion, garlic, and an assortment of spices people send us in care packages. I grow big leaf basil, thai basil, and lemongrass, and an herb called kaloni in Tongan that tastes like oregano. Sometimes we have people over for dinner, sometimes we don't. We feed our little ginger kitty (leftovers), and have ginger tea, which helps digestion. Recently we've been going for an evening walk around the block, which also helps digestion, a thing of great importance to me recently.

If we're not going anywhere after dinner, we're lazy and decide to watch a movie or play boggle or cards until bed time at around 9:30 or 10.

And the next day, we wake up and do pretty much the same thing. Except on days we don't, which could be any day - when there's an event, a fair, a funeral, a holiday, a special evening show, visitors from out of town, a Peace Corps training, an event related to one of our projects, an invitation somewhere, or any of the other random things we've learned to be prepared for and enjoy.

Thanks to Beverly ... and, well, everyone who asked ... for the inspiration for this post.

Mark dug the knife into the side of the pig, it's golden roasted skin crackling as he drew it down to its foreleg, carving out a generous haunch for the guest of honour sitting to his right: a pastor that would, at 10PM later that night, be one of the dozen preachers to give consecutive messages until bell rang 2011 in at midnight.

We were sitting at a long table, looking out across green, waving fields from the airy porch where the feast was set, red flowered cloths tacked up in horizontal bands around the porch roof's edge to soften the tropical sunlight that filled the air around us. Before us was set stacks and stacks of some of the best food, its cooks coming from a family that taught their community to serve and eat a five-course meal, and who served Queen Salote's fresh breakfast bread. Around my slowly emptying plate were still-full saucers and bowls of stuffed beef rounds, fresh grilled fish, turkey slices, chicken curry, and creamy pasta. Everything was overshadowed by a massive platter of sliced yams, sweet potatoes, and taro next to the enormous pig, looming up in the centre like a golden glistening log. It was just bigger than my torso, and sat steaming and dripping on a tin platter that I might be tempted to use as a toboggan in colder climates.

The knife crackled through the side of the pig as Mark drew the knife along the back ridge, meat so tender it was slipping off the bone. I scraped the layer of fat off my piece, surprisingly lean meat under the outer ring of blubber, and took a bite so flavorful it didn't need salt. Not even half an hour earlier while chatting on a mat under a mango tree with a friend and her aunt, we'd seen this very beast getting carried by on its platter, dripping and steaming from hours patiently roasted on a spit.

Across from me, a trim older man reached into the centre for a large slab of pig skin, two centimetres thick with fat, and bit into it with relish. I smiled, surveyed the empty bones of half of an arm-length fish that lay on my plate, and sat back to enjoy the sight of the crowd sitting around, listening with one ear to the thank-you speeches mandatory at such a feast. One by one, the hostess, the guests of honour, and the pastor got up to speak for a length of time to the line of people at the table, acknowledging the other guests, thanking the cooks, and telling stories and jokes. This kind of speech-giving is a fine art we have yet to master; somehow after about 30 seconds with ideally at least 5 minutes more of speech-time left, I've always petered out and ended with a clumsy "So... thank you very much. Thank you."

Later, sitting at the table around the decimated remains of the feast, one of the family told the story about why this particular community, Fua'amotu - famous for being the current King's grandfather's village and for the international airport that cuts through one end- is also famous for its delicious pig. One day, a noble woman decided to try to find some place to settle down. She was looking for a husband. She went to the villages on the west side of the island, and wasn't satisfied. She went to the villages on the east side of the island, and wasn't satisfied. Finally, she got to the very end of the east side and as she came into town, there was a strong, muscular man carrying a freshly roasted pig back to his house. She thought, "This is a good place to stay," and made Fua'amotu her home. That's why the Tongan proverb goes "Fie uakai ngako, 'aku ki Fua'amotu," or "If you want to eat some delicious pig [fat], go to Fua'amotu."

A friend we talked to later gave his own explanation, "Because the [other] royal palace is at Fua'amotu, they were killing so many pigs all the time, and would throw out the fat. If you were a commoner at that time, you didn't get good food easily, and so you could go and get the fat from the king's table."

At the end of the noblewoman's story after the feast, everyone laughed uproariously as the story finished. I liked that explanation a little better, not in the least because we had just seen a young male member of the family carrying this pig to the table an hour before. I could just imagine a noblewoman appearing on the scene and immediately falling in love with the man and his pig. The pig sitting in the middle of the remains of the feast winked at me and agreed.

Addendum: If you're wondering how I managed at that feast with my stomach... well I wasn't the one eating huge hunks of pig, and lets just say I've drunk a whole lot of ginger tea in the 24 hours since. Oh, but without regrets it was so worth it!

Yesterday was the Sabbath, and today is the Sabbath too. Yesterday was our Christmas, but today is Christmas too, a hot, muggy sweaty one with no Christmas lights, caroling, or gift-giving. Yes, Christmas in Tonga to us foreigners is somewhat of a paradox.... and we enjoyed it thoroughly.

Making pumpkin pies

Christmas is not as big of a deal here as it is many places elsewhere, but it is a time for huge family reunions, good eating, and a summer break off of work. It is quite refreshing not to be bombarded with Christmas advertisements, shopping sales, and the general Christmas mania that takes over many other parts of the world.

But, we did see Christmas mania in the sheer amount of people coming in to Tonga for the holidays. So many families have significant numbers of family members in New Zealand, Australia, the US, or somewhere else in the world, and most people make a huge effort to come back home for Christmas. Flights into Tonga were packed for the last several days, and it felt like Tonga's population doubled and had all decided to be out in the streets on Christmas eve, as everyone rushed around doing last minute shopping.

Our own Christmas dinner on Christmas eveOn the evening of Christmas eve, many people went to a Christmas eve special church service, where the Sunday schools usually show off their "action songs," choral pieces, and drama. Only kids usually get presents at Christmas, and only at this special service, where names are called out and near-identical boxes of cookies, candy, and chips are given to each kid. Sometimes parents will contribute something, and sometimes just the church itself will prepare the boxes.

Although we went to the Christmas eve service last year in 'Eua, we stayed home this year because we had just gotten back from New Zealand that very day. Instead, we made ourselves a comically huge Christmas meal: roast duck with red wine and apricot sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, apricot stuffing, red wine cocoa gravy, spinach with onions and blue cheese, a fresh salad, pumpkin pie, and finally a dried fruit and raisin pecan-almond pie with a layer of chocolate in it - a weird and delicious pie of my own creation - gourmet food using a number of special ingredients we'd gotten in recent care packages and in NZ.

Stomach pictures

We had just gotten back from New Zealand (again) on Christmas eve because Peace Corps decided to fly me there for some tests to check out some ongoing stomach pain and digestive problems I've been having. We were there for three days, and I got every kind of test done, including getting pictures of the inside of my stomach taken! Needless to say, I didn't eat much of our Christmas dinner. It looks like I'll be going back for several more tests in mid-January as well - it's good we liked New Zealand so much!

Neighbor kids playing in the rainUnlike traditions from the US, Christmas day itself here is much like any other Sunday: church, a big meal, and then sleep. The crowd is just a little larger, the food a little more plentiful; but people usually don't have any specific foods they eat on Christmas, or particular family activities like decorating cookies or watching Christmas films. Many families do go to the beach around holiday time seeing as the weather is gorgeous, hot, and sunny, but Christmas day itself counts as a Sabbath. People have different opinions on what is allowed on the Sabbath, but at its most stringent, it generally prohibits going to the beach, swimming, exercising, playing games, or doing work other than cooking on that day.

Roast pork, lu, and breadfruit- yum!Christmas for us dawned with torrential thundering tropical rain, and after a delightful three-continent Skype chat with family, we caught a ride over to some friends' house for Christmas dinner for a delicious meal with them and their extended family: lu (taro leaves wrapped around meat, baked in coconut milk), mouth-watering suckling pig, breadfruit, chicken teriyaki, a mayonnaise salad, and orange ice cream, watermelon, and pumpkin pie we brought for desert. We sat around and talked for a while while the kids played on their grandparents' trampoline (ok, ok, we played on it too), and then it was time for the island-wide Sabbath past time: sleep.

Soccer stars on the trampoline

Later that evening, we went with a Peace Corps volunteer friend to some other friends' house and decorated Christmas cookies, watched Elf, and then Harry Potter 5, two good Christmas movies...

Christmas is always hard to be away from family and all the traditions and memories that we all build up each year- and so this year didn't quite feel fully like Christmas. But we certainly had fun with our adopted families here, and with mixing our own Christmas traditions with some new ones from Tonga.

We've been in the country of many names for the past two weeks: New Zealand, Aotearoa (the land of the long white cloud), and to most Americans, the land of Whale Rider, The Flight of the Conchords, and of course, Middle Earth.

The best place we stayed (and how could it not be?) was the former Queen of Tonga, Queen Salote's embassy house in Parnell, an upscale area in Auckland.

The Queen's house, with backpackers modifications here and thereIt is now a cute, homey backpackers' hostel, filled with a maze of rooms and windows and balconies, and surrounded by sprays of flowers. When we asked the owner about its interesting history, he said that although he hasn't been able to find out much, he has figured out that she had it built as a sort of home base while acting on official business in New Zealand, and used it as a makeshift embassy to receive important international visitors.

Queen Salote's room (supposedly)We were in the second story front room, which is guessed to be the very room Queen Salote stayed in while living there.

While simple, the house is certainly fit for at least a basic headquarters for an away-from-home queen. Its' dark wood staircase sweeps up to the second floor of high doorways, intricate moldings, and room fireplaces.

The Auckland Museum

Auckland Domain greenhousesThe house is minutes from the Auckland Domain, a beautiful park around the Auckland Museum that could pass for a simple botanical gardens with its wooded paths, wide lawns, and fairy like green houses. In our two days in Auckland, we thought about taking a bus to other parts of town, but quickly decided to leave further exploration to our next visit as soon as we walked in the enchanting grounds of the Domain.

An Orc at the WETA studiosMost of the time, though, we spent exploring Wellington, the charming capital city on the southern end of the North island that feels small, artsy, and very livable. We saw the hilariously dumpy looking neighbourhood where Peter Jackson and his crew made the Lord of the Rings movies, and got to visit the special effects studios that worked on LOTR, King Kong, I Robot, and many others. Many Wellingtonians are jovially proud of Peter Jackson and of him working in that neighbourhood: like what it would be like for a multi million dollar cultural icon being made in Corvallis, Oregon.

Two highlights throughout the trip was visiting art galleries and museums, and eating.

Most days, all we did was visit an art gallery in the morning, have frites and a glass of Leffe at a Belgian cafe, go to the national museum, Te Papa, in the afternoon, and make it out in time for a Malaysian spicy lamb curry. We made sure to eat every kind of nationality of food that we can't find in Tonga: French, Belgian, South Indian, North Indian, Lebanese, Moroccan, Japanese... and with a good appetite too, from walking six or seven km a day while exploring Wellington.

Went shopping at the amazing huge grocery storeAlso, quite predictably, we spent a few hours goggle-eyed at the grocery store, pausing beside 20 different kinds of New Zealand honey, and exclaiming at the extremely cheap (for us) price of muesli, wine, peanut butter, spices, jam, and chocolate compared to Tongan prices.

Walked around the Wellington botanical gardensThe Wellington botanical gardens was another favourite of ours, sitting up on a ridge overlooking downtown, it was filled with little twisting paths through groves of trees, past duck ponds, around flower beds, and even along a herb garden.

Rode the cable car from the Wellington botanical gardens to downtown

We had a great time riding the cable car down the steep slope to downtown, and even visited the cable car museum. Some of the nicer houses on steep hills all across the city even have their own personal little cable car! We resisted the urge to hop in and try one out.

Saw a play: Apollo 13We also had to catch a play while we were in town, and saw Apollo 13: Mission Control. It was a very weird, fun, interactive theatre experience that reminded me more of a very well-done Disney ride than actual theatre. I would have traded some of the interactivity for more actual acting, but nonetheless, we had great fun. We were the "press gallery" and the actors actually got asked my "paper's" question! (Elena)

We saw kiwis at Te Papa

We really enjoyed the New Zealand museums and readily available history, something that is hard-to-find in Tonga. Out of the many we vistied, the two we liked the best were the New Zealand National Museum (Te Papa), and the Auckland Museum. We spent the majority of multiple days in both of them because they were both so large that we felt too overwhelmed to see everything. The Maori exhibits in both museums were fascinating, extensive, and beautiful. We saw a range of Maori craft, art, carved meeting houses, and war and long-range catamaran canoes. It was all incredible. There was also a room of craft and tool exhibits from all over the South Pacific, including Tonga, Samoa, and Fiji, showing the similarities between Tonga and its neighbours.

Visited Zealandia, and saw kakas (this parrot eating an almond)We spent another day at the Karori Wildlife Sanctuary, Zealandia, a park area in the hills above Wellington to help a pre-human, pre-mammal, pre-deforestation forest grow back. A predator-proof fence has been built to keep out introduced mammals and plants, and an army of volunteers works to track down and eradicate invasive species, as well as introducing all the native bird, plant and insect species that they can. To get there, we spent part of the morning working our way up through the upper neighbourhoods of Kelburn in Wellington, past a great German bakery, and finally up a long walk up to a dam framed by two steep hills on either side. Inside, we saw kaka (one of three native parrots), tui, kereru (a giant New Zealand forest pigeon), weka (a quail-like bird), as well as a bevy of smaller endangered song-birds and insects. There are also kiwis, tuatara (New Zealand's ancient reptile), and giant wetas (enormous cricket-like insects). The slightly ludicrous but sad problem that faces most of the birds is that because there were no mammals before humans came to New Zealand, most of the birds nest on the ground. Zealandia is a long-term project that will probably take 500 years to come to fruition, but it was fascinating even in its infancy, and probably one of the few opportunities to see some of those animals on mainland New Zealand.

We went to the Saturday farmers market for delicious vegetablesWe were really impressed by the farmers' markets: they're better-quality and cheaper than in the store! Unlike most in the US, we found amazing bargains on produce, cheese, and sausage, all in a cute farmers' market laid out in the parking lot next to Te Papa, the national museum.

Went to the Wellington city library - 3 floors!Another luxury of New Zealand was the city library full of every kind of book imaginable! It has three stories, and is in a beautiful building downtown on the waterfront. Even though we went during the day on a week day, there were hoards of people there browsing, reading, and checking out books, including a uniformed gaggle of private school girls.

and late at night, saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader in 3-DWe also had to be geeky and see a late-night showing of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader in 3-D. No movie theatres in Tonga! There actually used to be a very popular one here in the city, but it apparently got burned down in the 2007 riots. Everyone's waiting eagerly for it to be rebuilt.

Finally, we will leave you with our impressions of arriving in NZ for the first time, and then coming back to Tonga:

After our three hour flight, we arrived in the Auckland airport after not leaving Tonga for over a year. In the airport bathroom, I approached the gleaming grey marble sink and when I stuck my hands under the gushing hot water from the automatic faucet, I involuntarily whispered a reverent "oh my gosh," at the marvelous feeling, at which my hand-washing neighbor gave me a skeptical and suspicious look. We got more looks right outside the bathrooms when we both were loudly giggling at being able to fill up a water bottle from a real drinking fountain that produced forth amazingly delicious cold, sweet water.

Then, after two weeks in New Zealand, we took huge breaths of flower-scented tropical night air on the way home from the airport in Tonga, feeling our dry skin come back to life in the humidity. I laughed with delight when I went to the market and got two huge bags of fresh, garden-grown local vegetables for under the equivalent of $7 USD, and then was given an extra bundle of bok choy by the vendor who knows us, and a huge passion fruit and three mangoes by friends at work.

There are obviously much more important things that we appreciated in New Zealand and like about Tonga, and the day we came back, both Mark and I agreed hands down that if we live in the Pacific region after Peace Corps, we will have to make frequent trips to both countries. We're lucky to experience both.

Tonga becoming a democracy was marked by absences- the empty desks as people went to vote on Thursday the 25th...

...the lack of queues at the voting stations. (This is our district's voting station- in a church hall.) ...and generally the lack of any kind of riot or demonstration, despite everyone being prepared for the worst. Businesses locked their doors, secured their files, and made sure nothing important would get lost if there was any chaos. But fortunately, all was calm.

That evening at a Peace Corps thanksgiving celebration, the country director poses with several staff listening to the election results. We even had turkey and stuffing!

Each district around Tonga had one elected parliamentarian, so everyone listened anxiously especially when it came to their district.

The next day, Friday, November 26th, parades went by celebrating the winning candidates.

This one is celebrating our district's winner, called "fuloutis" (floats) in Tongan. Similar floats went by non-stop every day on the week before the election, advertising each candidate.

The day after elections also had a festive air, because it was both the final "Child Cancer Awareness Friday" and a big performance day for all the primary school students.

People joked that it was half an election celebration. A large handful of people at work are important members of the Child Cancer Foundation in Tonga, and so there was a Bank-wide competition of which department could wear the most yellow. My friend and coworker in this picture won the individual prize for "most yellow." How could you not with those sunglasses!

Always in the spirit of competition, people went all-out. Some departments even bought blond wigs and wore them with crowns all morning! The prize was a big pineapple pie, and even though only a handful of people or departments won, pie pieces got passed to a lot of people, so the treats were enjoyed by everyone.

Our department won one of the three "yellowest" prizes! And got a 3x2 foot pineapple pie for it. As the Bank's "Business Advisory Services" department, we were the "Cancer Advisory Services Strikers" for the day (meaning we strike out cancer risk...).

The morning also marked the primary schools' show day. All of the primary schools in the immediate area gathered at the Nuku'alofa Primary School to show off their dances and beautiful costumes. Most of the fourth quarter of primary and secondary schools is spent preparing dances for times like these. I took a quick hour off of work to go watch and support. The school was crowded!

The school's own kids performed a sitting dance, or ma'ulu'ulu, gathered in a huge throng on the lawn. They're wearing traditional sitting dance decorations over their red school uniforms.

And no ma'ulu'ulu would be complete without a teacher directing the singing with a set of big sticks to count the beat. Usually, dancers in this dance also sing while they're dancing. Most school choirs also have a teacher counting the beat with a clicker like this, a job that is made essential by the number of songs we've heard that purposely change tempo halfway through.

My favourite part of these dances is often watching the parents, relatives, and other adults get into dancing on the sideline- as a way of enjoying the performance and showing their support. It is common to see a group of women tuck money into the main dancers' costumes, and then stay up "on stage" behind them, dancing and swaying.

One school did a Fijian dance. A lot of the other Pacific Island dances are popular at events because they're different than the same Tongan dances everyone expects. The crowd got very loud and enthusiastic during this one!

They had one dramatic moment where all the boys threw back their heads. You wouldn't see this much in a Tongan dance.

Some students, however, did very traditional Tongan dances. This one is the ta'olunga, or the single girl's standing dance. Their costumes are made of real leaves painstakingly affixed to an under cloth layer by layer. Families I've talked to have stayed up all night carefully putting together all the garlands, belts, and other decorations needed in these dances.

Even the littlest members of the school performed, clad in garlands of flowers and skirts made of leaves. This performer had just finished and was amusing herself by sucking on a $2 bill.

Our language tutor's little cousin did a great job dancing! The whole day felt like a holiday - the regular celebrations made that much more festive by everyone buzzing about the recent election. It was the primary gossip of the day.

'If you're Tongan, there's a good chance you can. And if you're like most of the people we know, you'll only cook in an underground oven on a Sunday, a day for church, food, and sleep all across the country.

The road was really rough

What does a typical Sunday in Tonga look like? For most families it follows the same pattern every week, and although today was a typical Sunday, for us it was special because we'd been invited to some friends' house out on the western part of the island.

It takes about 45 minutes to bike out to their town, so we started off early through mostly deserted streets as people started to get ready for 10am church across the island.

Getting a ta'ovala ready

We'd brought our own change of clothes, but when we arrived, our hosts had other plans; a large pink matching two-piece dress had already been picked out for me, and Loisi, friend and coworker at the Bank, was already starting to iron the huge pile of church clothes for me, her husband Folau (also friend and coworker at the Bank), and their three young kids. Showers are mandatory on Sunday; no self-respecting person would show their face in church without clean skin, oiled hair, and a usually matching, ironed outfit. And no outfit would be complete without either a women's belt, kiekie, or decorated waist mat, ta'ovala.

Singing at church

The church in this town was massive, with a huge, beautiful Tongan curved roof. The service started promptly at ten, ended promptly at eleven, and we all trouped back through the dusty streets, tailed by the kids, to go take the food out of the 'umu, or underground oven.

Almost everyone, all dressed up. The kids were actually really happy, but were kind of intimidated as their dad took the photo.

Folau's underground oven is made out of a recycled old circular washing machine, buried in dirt for insulation. In order to build a proper 'umu, he got up at 5am to build a fire in the metal basin while Loisi prepared the lu, or meat in coconut milk wrapped in taro leaves. He piled hot rocks on the fire, which heated as the wood turned to coals, and the heat was even enough to pile in stacks of sweet potato and breadfruit. On top went the foil packages of lu, and then the whole thing was covered with old fleece blankets to keep the heat in. This was cooking to perfection the entire time we were biking there and sitting in church, so when he finally lifted off the layers, everything was piping hot and well-cooked.

Taking the lu out of the 'umu. In old times and some families still today, Sunday 'umu was the only time you get to eat meat.

The hot foil packages of lu went into one basin, while the sweet potato and breadfruit went into another, ready to be peeled and stacked on a plate for the table. After much wide-eyed anticipation on the part of the kids - and us - we sat down and dug in, after the kids recited a short prayer.

Sweet potato and breadfruit, lu, mango juice, and Nau waiting patiently

The lu was delicious. If you've never had cooked taro leaves, imagine large leaves of mild spinach, combined with lightly salted beef or chicken with onions, slow-cooked for three hours in coconut milk. Then pair that with sweet potato so sweet and creamy you could almost eat it as a desert, and a chunk or two of - yes bread-tasting - hot breadfruit. This is all washed down with grated green mango mixed with sugar, water, and coconut milk to make a type of mango juice that tastes more like a mango milkshake. Needless to say, Sunday 'umu is one of our favorite meals in Tonga.

Lu: beef with salt and onions, slow-cooked in coconut milk and wrapped in taro leaves, baked in foil.

Double nap timeIt's also incredibly heavy. Naturally after a large sweet potato and almost a whole chicken's worth of lu, most people immediately take a nap after Sunday 'umu, but today, we had planned to do some cake-baking.

After a short trip to her aunt's to borrow some baking soda, Loisi and I made a chocolate cake, chocolate cookies, and got really wild with a pineapple upside-down chocolate cake while the other two took naps. By the time we were done, the kids had come back from afternoon Sunday School, to which most kids go right after the meal, and they promptly devoured most of the batch of baked cookies.

Mixing cake

This was one of the few times the kids had tasted cookies or cake, because most Tongan deserts are either stewed or baked in an 'umu. A chocolate cake just doesn't bake right underground, apparently.

Finally, naps were finished, cookies were eaten, and armed with an extra package of lu for tomorrow, we biked home still full four hours later after our Sunday meal from an underground oven.

Self photo + biking + potholes = exciting

Thanks to Tim Moore for the inspiration for this post.

Caught on camera by Jenny, our volunteer neighbor in 'EuaSix inches long and shiny black, the prehistoric-looking creature writhes across the floor on its spiny black legs, impervious to blows harsh enough to flatten a cockroach, its bite strong enough to paralyze a newborn....

But for some perspective, lets talk first about some pests that Tonga doesn't have.

Malaria inside youIn my opinion, for everything that matters, Tonga is a bug-free paradise. There is little problem with:

Malaria: no children dying of fevers, no working parents unable to support their families because of sickness. We're the wrong latitude for it. Aids: There have been only 14 documented cases in Tonga in the last 16 years, and although in the future it may become more of a problem, it doesn't seem to be growing fast.Typhoid, TB, or Pneumonia: Although they have all existed at some point in low numbers in Tonga, there are only about 10-20 annual cases of Typhoid recorded, 23 cases of TB in 2006 (but with a 100% cure rate), and only 1 serious childhood pneumonia case. Not enough for the average person to worry about.Killer snakes, killer spiders, killer anything creepycrawly on the ground: Amazing but true. People say here, "Nothing on land can kill you." (which is not that comforting when you're swimming, but does reduce the heart rate a bit when you're on a hike and you've brushed into your third 5-inch spider hanging across the path)Any other horrible parasite that blinds, cripples, crawls into your scalp, emerges from your ankle, or generally makes you into a sample picture for a medical text book. In my opinion, the general lack of the first two makes up for any amount of inconvenience caused by bugs that Tonga does have.

So here's the big list: In Tonga, we have ...Molokau: That huge many-legged monster of the beginning of this blog and of your nightmares? It exists and its called a molokau. There's a relative of the molokau somewhere in South America that someone filmed catching and eating a mouse. If molokaus were human, they would ride Harleys, wear studded leather jackets, and be rude to your mom (no offense to Harley owners or studded leather jackets. I quite like them myself.). Their bite is incredibly painful, and they will chase you - yes chase you - across the floor if you're not quick enough. Every volunteer has a molokau story of some sort. We were just at a friend's house and he told us that last week, as he was going to get a can of bug spray to kill one, it chased after him down the hall. They're aggressive little buggers and appear in the strangest places without warning.

We joke that the molokau is made up of all the nastiness that somehow never made it to the rest of Tonga's creatures, because after them, the list is embarrassingly tame:

Dengue fever: There was an outbreak in 2003 that was quickly brought under control. Now, the occasional case pops up during the rainy season, prompting city-wide cover-your-standing-water campaigns, but it never gets to epic proportions. Mosquitos: Yes, their sole joy in life is to hover under the table to bite your legs, or whine in your ear at 2 in the morning. And occasionally give you Dengue.Cockroaches: We, like everyone else in Tonga, keep most of our food in a huge sealed rubbermaid container, because if left in the cupboard, any bag will quickly develop little ragged holes that let your flour and sugar pour out the moment you lift them up. Not to mention cockroach eggs and other little tasty morsels hiding in the flour.Woodbores and termites: In the Philippines, we called them bokbok - the microscopic little creatures that eat your house, tables, bookshelves, bed frame, and anything else wooden until its completely hollow. Except you don't know it until you rest your hand against a door frame, and find that its just a shell of paint hiding where the door frame used to be.

And earning a special extra place on the list of pests:Dogs: They aren't a problem really until it gets dark, and then, we purposely trace routes through the city based on how many dogs we'll have to avoid or kick at as we ride past their territory and they snap at our heels. Packs of roving dogs roam through in the middle of the night, and the two sweet dogs (named Bruno and Simba) who live at our house defend their territory, loudly, at 2 AM. But honestly? I'm happy dealing with the occasional molokau, frequent cockroaches, mosquitoes, and everything else on the list, just to be living in a place where we don't have to take malaria medication once a week, don't have to have colleagues dealing with the effects of AIDS, and can go walking through the woods without fear of a death attack from an angry snake. Tonga is pretty great that way.

Thanks to Mark Homer for the topic inspiration.

Sources for numbers, pictures, and confirmation of rumours:http://www.wpro.who.int/countries/2009/ton/health_situation.htm

http://www.biology.ccsu.edu/doan/ProjectHope/Malaria%2520red.jpghttp://www.tongavavauholiday.net

Several months ago, a neighbor of ours came over with a question from her high school Tongan history class: define the English word "politics," in Tonga. There was no real equivalent in Tongan, so we deliberated for half an hour, and she went to class the next day with a semi tolerable answer of what politics means in Tonga. She was the only one in the whole class with an answer, including the teacher!

These are exciting times for Tonga. The democratic elections are coming up at the end of this month, the first big step in Tonga's move towards a democracy, rather than a [constitutional] monarchy. In 2006, the former King died, and his son, the current king, formally announced he would be deferring governmental decisions to the Prime Minister.

But in a country where the "coconut wireless" runs efficiently, nearly everything about the coming election is word-of-mouth; no clear charts as to what is actually going to happen. So here's my attempt to explain Tonga becoming a democracy:

Tongan society is strictly stratified into three classes: the King (and royalty), the Nobles, and the Commoners.

Until now, Tonga's political system has stayed essentially the same since 1875, when the constitution was written.

The November 25th elections will nearly double the elected seats in Parliament, and will move the Executive branch from king-appointed to Parliament-appointed

There is little hope that any of the new MPs are going to be women. Socially, women enjoy high status, and own and operate a majority of businesses in Tonga -- but still cannot own land and are among the minority in church and government leadership. Women were given the right to vote in 1957.

What will happen at the end of the month? The country is waiting to find out.

Pasifiki Trade Fair jewelry sellerThere are many weeks that go by that feel full of local events but wouldn't quite stand up to keeping anyone reading our blog awake for very long.

While I was posting about Mele, the artisan of Tongan crafts, I was attending days of the Pasifiki Trade Fair, a yearly mishmash of mostly Tongan businesses displaying their wares in the big hall in the middle of town. Several IT companies, t-shirt manufacturers, local crafts people, a coffee company, a NZ apple company, as well as many others spread out their booths for the city to examine.

Craft seller and booth

As the mornings turned into afternoons, hoards of exuberant school kids in their uniforms streamed down the aisles, making it impossible to navigate without avoiding some headlong rush collision of groups of talking and laughing teenagers.

Among acquisitions of soap, apple juice, and coffee, we bought a beautiful cloth that had been woodblock printed by the high school boys at Liahona, the Mormon school in town.

This was their first art sale of the whole fair, and by far my favorite interchange of the week:

Liahona boys art standElena: (in Tongan) Wow, are you guys selling these?

Boys: Huh huh...huh... hehe...

[Sideways look to friends. Nodding all around]

Elena: How much are they?

Boys: Huh... huh.. heeeehee... uh..

One guy gets up the courage.

Boy 1: they're 25!

Quickly interrupted by his friend,

Boy 2: No, 20! I made this one!

Elena: They're really beautiful. Ok, we'd like to buy this one.

[Incredulous and happy looks all around, much poking in ribs and laughter]

Boys: Ok... huh huh... hehe...

I hold out the money to Boy 2. He promptly takes it and runs away, to much happy jeers and teasing from his friends.

We thanked them while laughing, and happily went away with some good art.

TBCS rep talking to trade fair goersThe month of October is also a big one here for the Tonga Breast Cancer Society, who had a booth at the trade fair, dutifully decked out in shocking pink.

There's a large support base for the society, which has grown over recent years, in a large part because so many Tongan women are killed by breast cancer. It's one of the leading causes of death in Tonga, along with diabetes. While women can get diagnosed here, there are no treatment facilities available, and so if a woman discovers it late in the game, she will often choose to stay home with her family rather than brave the lonely, expensive, long treatment in New Zealand. A local clinic here has been recently offering one day of free check-ups a week, which has helped many individuals catch possible breast cancer before it becomes a problem.

Tonga Breast Cancer Society logo: "Ofa ki ho'o mo'ui" or Take Care of Your Health

I've been helping out here and there with their website and by taking pictures at their events, and so we just had to go to the end-of-the-month celebrations this last weekend: the final Walk on Saturday and the culminating church service on Sunday.

Parading down Nuku'alofa's main waterfront road

The walk was in a huge loop around the city, at a parade pace, and led by the Tupou High School band.

Mark walking with friends of oursI ran in and out of the throng, taking pictures and trying not to get underfoot. Tonga Breast Cancer Society's logo was the parade banner, which in Tongan reads "'Ofa ki ho'o mo'ui", or Take Care of your Health.

Alternatively, it could mean Love your Life, which I always like better, but the more appropriate translation is the former. The parade, which started at 8AM, was finished at 9, with nice greasy hotdogs and juice after a cool down session.

Kids looking cool in the cool downThe next day, we went to the final Sunday service of the month, which was in format very much like every other service we've gone to here, except looking as if the Queen of Hearts took her brush and dipped it into pink paint by accident.

We did our best to fit in, but could only manage maroon (on me) and white (on Mark). Afterwards, we had a delicious Sunday dinner at Leta my manager's house, who is also somewhat of a mentor and friend.

Leta, me, and Mark after the service. Leta and I should have stood on the steps.Now October's gone and November is here, and we look forward to the upcoming first-ever democratic election in Tonga on the 25th, Thanksgiving, and our trip to New Zealand starting at the end of this month. Plenty to blog about.

Mele with a hair comb

Last year, Mele saw an old, grainy picture of a women's dance costume from the 1800s and was inspired. No one today makes the fine woven comb that was in the dancer's hair, instead preferring simple bundles of flowers tied on to palm sticks for performances. She went home to experiment, and returned to her craft co-operative several days later, with a traditional Tongan comb, crafted using modern kabob sticks she found at the grocery store. Upon seeing it, everyone laughed! What business did she have making an old, obsolete costume piece nowadays, and on top of it all, out of a package of sticks you could find for a dollar? Not even a week later, an American scout from The Field Museum in Chicago, IL, USA came by the downtown craft shop, and immediately bought her piece. "Now it's on display in a museum." Mele says with a smile.

I met Mele in the small, corridor-like Langafonua craft shop in downtown Nuku'alofa, and was immediately absorbed by her stories and creative spark.

The craft shop is the business arm of the largest womens' association in Tonga, acting as a gallery for their members, who come in as often as every week to collect their commissions from the sale of their crafts. Although the items might not normally be called modern art, it is almost a disservice to label them "crafts," as a quick look down the aisles reveal ornate carvings, intricate bark cloth paintings, and finely woven tapestries.

Woven braceletsMele and I walked down along light-shafted, Pacific-heat-dusty tables while she pointed out her items. She picked up a pair of woven bracelets from a huge stack, and said "no one else made these in Tonga before I started," to immediately slip several on her upper arms and grin at my camera.

Mele has been weaving since 1986, and has been a full-time, professional artisan since she retired, selling her pieces at the Langafonua craft shop. Her work helps support herself, her husband, and the younger of her

six children, and she loves what she does.

Although she focuses on traditional finely woven mats and formal mens’ ta’ovalas (waist mats), she also creates and sells bracelets, woven necklaces, baskets, traditional hair combs, purses, and is the only artisan in Tonga to make woven earrings and woven tissue boxes.

Decorated weaving for wall or table displayShe brings a fine craftsmanship to her work: her traditional items are finely done and well produced, and her more innovative pieces are creative and original. Like the bracelets, they often start a flurry of lesser-quality reproductions among the other craftspeople.

She is inspired by reintroducing ancient styles of traditional Tongan crafts to modern Tongan crafts. Along with her comb, several of her other pieces are on display in the Field Museum, including a women’s formal belt (kiekie) woven out of tiny strips of pandanus fibre. As we walked up and down the craft-filled tables, she pointed out a basket shaped and woven exactly like a traditional Tongan fale (house), in miniature.

Woven earrings

Having had a lifelong career in teaching, Mele is a natural educator, and loves to explain her craft, which she clearly loves doing and is proud of. She is a charismatic speaker, and is a captivating storyteller, punctuating her sentences with pregnant pauses and quick grins. Her opinion is that “handicrafts make a lady powerful,” allowing the artisan to use her own mind and hands to support herself and her family.

She says that because of skill in handicrafts, as well as many other things, “women here [in Tonga] are strong people.” She certainly fits the description.

Necklace displayed on top of a woven ta'ovala

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In Tonga, drinking water comes from the sky. The tropical thundering Pacific rains pound down on tin Tongan roofs, flow through PVC pipe channels in to huge round cement water tanks, called sima vai, literally translated, "cement water".

A sima vai- the pipe from the house is at the right in the picture

In a Tongan household, the smallest able-bodied kid is regularly sent to the sima vai armed with a large pitcher, or perhaps a bucket, to run out, turn on a brass-colored tap at the bottom of the huge cement catchment tank, and squat waiting as the container fills up. The water is made into juice for special occasions, tea for regular occasions, or used in soups and cooking. If the sima vai hasn't been cleaned in a while, and suspect particles float in the pitcher, it is promptly boiled in an electric water kettle and drunk as tea.

The particles are usually bits of mold or plant matter floating around in the catchment tank, and as gross as it can be some times, it's far from being the most dangerous thing in the water.

There is virtually no rubbish collection service in Tonga, with the small exception of the main island, Tongatapu, and even here, it is a rare week that we don't smell a rubbish fire near our house. The rubbish comes from a glut of imported, expired, often Chinese goods that have flooded into the Tongan market in the past few decades, which has no way to leave the tiny island kingdom once it is used, other than floating pollution in the ocean, mounded up in the bush in huge piles, or burned.

When plastic is burned, it releases dioxins into the air, tiny plastic particles known for causing birth defects and cancer. Like the mercury we ingest in the fish we eat every day, dioxins settle on rooftops or hang in the air, ready to be flushed into sima vais all around Tonga and drunk in our morning tea.

Maybe you're thinking, "Well, duh, why don't they just stop burning rubbish?" "Why don't people start consuming less rubbish-producing goods?" "Why isn't it exported?" These solutions aren't impossible, but have you ever tried to truly lead a rubbish-free life? Even bulk flour comes in a plastic sack. Toilet paper comes wrapped in plastic tissue. And where would the rubbish go, if not burned? If you walk far enough in Tonga, you reach the salty Pacific Ocean, if you dig deep enough in Tonga, you reach hard coral rock, or worse, the water table. If you ship the rubbish, who is going to pay for the massive fuel costs racked up in transporting it to the nearest recycling facility, 3000 kilometers away in New Zealand?

The solution is massive and structural, and several decades away if at all: manufacture profitable goods made with compostable materials, pass legislation that only allows those goods to enter Tonga, make it easy and cheap for each individual family to get rid of their rubbish, and make it stylish and upstanding to care about what happens to your rubbish.

Until then, we'll drink our tea with a dash of dioxins. Mmm, spicy.

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I write this blog entry to participate in Blog Action day, October 15, 2010 (http://blogactionday.change.org) described in their words below:

"... the purpose of Blog Action Day is to create a discussion. We ask bloggers to take a single day out of their schedule and focus it on an important issue. By doing so on the same day, the blogging community effectively changes the conversation on the web and focuses audiences around the globe on that issue. This year, with the theme of Water, we are eager to shed light on this often-overlooked topic."

This blog entry is also published on the SEEP network: http://seepcommunity.com