Peace Corps Journals

Starting a Movement: Local artists in Tonga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-05-28 08:43:00

At 6:02PM on Friday night at the exhibition opening of the local arts exhibition Movement, there were exactly two people looking at the art. The exhibition had officially opened at 6PM. As one of the organizers of the event, I was racked with nerves. I again went over in my mind the multiple notices I'd sent out, the invitations delivered, even the TV crew that showed up during the hanging of the work earlier that day. What if no one came? At 6:23PM, the room was so packed that I could hardly push through the masses of people! Cars clogged the street outside, and more and more just kept coming in.

The exhibition was packed full

It was an exhibition we'd come up with to welcome the Kermadec Exhibition artists and build on the momentum that their exhibition at the NZ High Commission had created throughout the previous week. Acting in a personal capacity, I worked with a team of four to organize a show entitled Movement, celebrating local artists in Tonga at the Waterfront Lodge, the same venue in which we'd welcomed the Kermadec artists last year as they ended their voyage in Tonga.

Three of the organizing team: myself, Ebonie, and G.P.

Throughout the week, the Kermadec artists had met many of the local artists showing in the Movement exhibition during a series of evening workshops. Particularly meaningful was Tuesday night's event, in which each artist told us briefly about her or his life: how they grew up, how their work developed, and what they'd learnt along the way. The audience members listened with the intensity of a sports fanatic at a soccer game. And the clapping at the end was almost as cacophanous.

The artists tell their stories in front of two large John Pule paintings

Wednesday brought a delightful poetry reading session by John Pule and Gregory O'Brien at local cafe Coffee Post, lit by candlelight from the centres of the tables. On Thursday, we gave the Kermadec artists a bit of a break, finishing the workshop series with fascinating lectures on Tongan cultural resources by Dr. Seu'ula Johansson Fua, Siua Lotaki, and artists Uasi La'a and Sitiveni Fehoko.

Sitiveni Fehoko is an internationally recognized carver and president of the Tonga Handicrafts Association

Friday was the Kermadec artists' last day in Tonga, and they were invited as the guests of honour to the Movement Exhibition. And so the night progressed. People passionately discussed the work, conversation flowed, and many of the works were bought by the end of the night.

We enjoyed the Tevita Latu works at Movement

I was touched by the public affirmation of the event, not only the amount of people that came, but also those that helped pull it together. It couldn't have been done without many people's support - we did it with a budget of $0, thanks to GP Orbassano, owner of the Waterfront and established artist himself, offering the venue, as well as several other businesses who donated our coffee and juice drinks for the evening.

It can be done. Now for the next exhibition!

The Sounds

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Two for Tonga

2012-05-27 04:42:00

At the same time as the King's funeral we had an opportunity to house sit for a Peace Corps staff member who was taking a trip out of Tonga. Wow, we thought: a real kitchen, air conditioning in the bedroom, TV (We never turned it on.), hot showers, and a washer and a dryer. What Peace Corps Volunteer would pass that up?

And it was wonderful, but. After the week was over and we were home again, I realized what I had missed. Yes, we were in Tonga for that week, but it wasn't my Tonga. What I missed most, I realized, were the sounds. At our house, the day is punctuated with familiar sounds of life.

Sounds of...

Sione thwacking coconuts with a bush knife to feed the pigs.

Pigs snorting, grunting, and squealing in the yard.

Hens scratching in the dirt and cackling.

Roosters crowing (at all hours of the day and night!).

Churches' bells ringing (some days as early as 5 A.M.).

Women pounding tapa.

Belinda rustling and bustling around her kitchen (as early as 4:30 A.M.), talking to family members, singing hymns.

The neighbor's children singing in the back yard.

Water filling buckets at the sima vai in the yard.

Dogs barking (especially at night!).

This is (my) Tonga!


Coconut-fed pigs.

Sima vai. Rainwater for our drinking and cooking needs (after boiling and/or filtering).

The Kermadec Exhibition comes to Tonga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-05-23 08:08:00

Contemplating a John Pule painting

As the local press release said, over one thousand primary school students - as well as a huge number of secondary school students - are starting to visit the New Zealand High Commission this week. I came down from my desk on Tuesday to see the first group filing through, a scattering collection of uniformed, bright-faced primary students, ready to see the Kermadec Exhibition on display for the first time in Tonga.

For me, this is an amazing second experience with the Kermadec Project. Last year, I was lucky enough to perform with On the Spot, a local arts group, at a reception night held for the artists as they came through Tonga. This year, I got to work on it from the other side, helping to organize the exhibition and related events out of the NZ High Commission.

A panorama shot of two exhibition walls

It all came about last year when the Pew Environment Group invited nine highly-acclaimed artists to go on a sea voyage from New Zealand to Tonga in an effort to raise awareness for the Kermadec trench and surrounding reigion. The trench itself is one of the most biodiverse areas in the world, and connects New Zealand and Tonga in a volcanic range. In the Pew Environment Group Director Bronwen Golder's words, if you were a giant, you could hop from undersea mountaintop to mountaintop, all the way from New Zealand to Tonga.

Artist Gregory O'Brien shows guest of honour HRH Princess Angelika Tuku'aho (daughter of the current King) around at the exhibition opening

The ending point of the journey last year was here, Tonga, and each of the artists returned home to New Zealand to produce work in response to the voyage. The full exhibitions opened late last year, and have shown in Auckland and Tauranga.

Artist Dame Robin White shows Salote Austin her work on tapa

To our absolute delight, a smaller version of the exhibition and four of the nine artists have come back to Tonga - Gregory O'Brien, Elizabeth Thomson, John Pule, and Dame Robin White. It has been hugely fun to organize as well; this sort of this usually just doesn't happen in Tonga. The last time an international Pacific arts exhibition was shown here in my memory was two years ago, and the excitement of the kids and general public is proof of success.

A large group of women from the suburb of Havelu worked on several other huge tapa paintings with Dame Robin White. Unfortunately the work was too large to exhibit here - they travel with the larger show in New Zealand instead. Here the Havelu group of women watch the documentary of themselves making the tapa with Robin. Exclamations of "listen, there you are singing!" and "oh, look you're so fat!" are joked around in Tongan as they watch.

The exhibition will run at the NZ High Commission all of this week and next, open to the public as well as hosted school groups from most of the primary, secondary, and teritiary schools on Tongatapu. The artists are currently here this week, and have been hosting and participating in all sorts of workshops we've organized for them - from telling their life stories to poetry readings. And the fun's not over yet.

Artist John Pule talks with Leilani Tamu and Meletonga Fakaua

Artist Elizabeth Thomson talks about her intricate metalwork sculptures at the exhibition opening

The king is dead! Long live the king!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Two for Tonga

2012-05-20 02:27:00

On 18 March, 2012, King George Tupou V died while in Hong Kong. We had an opportunity to observe and be a part of all the events and traditions surrounding the death of a king of Tonga. Not only was there to be no entertainment, drinking of alcohol, loud noises, gatherings, or sports events, but everyone was to wear black for 3 months. (The new king, King Tupou VI, later shortened this to 10 days at the request of his brother before he died. However, many Tongans continue to wear only black as a sign of respect and for their grief.)

Stores, homes, and businesses were festooned with black and purple bunting.

When the King's body was brought back to Tonga citizens and school children lined the streets from the airport to the palace, which is about 14 miles. The day was very hot and humid, and we waited 2 1/2 hours along the road before the cavalcade came.

We attended the 3-hour funeral, sitting on mats. We had tenting overhead, while many sat in the very hot sun. Everyone wore black with a heavy mat over, and an aveave (made from pandanus) over the mat. This was a sign of humility and grieving. No sunglasses were allowed, nor hats, also as a sign of respect. Photographs were allowed only from one area of the cemetery.

There is so much to tell, and photos, I hope, will do a better job than words. So here they are:

Wearing an aveave in front of a building with black and purple bunting.


The basilica dressed in mourning.

Hilliard teachers and students gather to go to line the road for the procession.

Waiting by the road.

Students line up while teachers talk and wait.


The new king rides in the procession to bring the King's body back.

Some Peace Corps Volunteers gather to attend the funeral.

Queen Salote students line the tapa-covered path from the road to the tomb.

The new king and dignitaries sat in the tent with the crown. Tomb area is to the right.

Mourners sitting behind the Queen Mother's tent.

Honor guard.

Band.


Carrying the casket.

Carrying the casket.

The casket is lifted to the final resting place.

Tent for the band and some of the mourners.

Placing wreaths after the ceremony.

The Days Go By...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga A Tongan Odyssey

2012-05-12 03:51:00

... and of course I slack off and forget about my blog. Well, I'm back! It's been quite a number of months since I've last written, so I'll have to just skim the highlights to keep you updated:

Dad and Sandra visited!
Traveled to Fiji, met Moms! And she visited Tonga!
Finally started a garden in my back yard.
The King died. :(
I've helped apply for a big grant from Japan to renovate our boys dorm.

Now, I have quite a few things that I'd like to write about but have been too indecisive (read: lazy) to choose one and start writing. Sooo... I'll let you pick! For decidedly personal reasons I want to refrain from sharing about my parents visits, but here are the other options:

What should I write about next?
	Student life at a Tongan boarding school
	The death of a King: 100 Sundays
	My garden!
	Applying for a grant: Downfalls of Int'l Development
	Tonga: A world of opposites
	Tonga: A world of circles
	The town bicycle

Riding to the wharf

I can't just leave you with a lame poll though, so I guess we'll have to talk fishin'. You see, my school used to have a fishing and navigating course that my supervisor taught. In fact, before actually becoming a teacher he was, basically, a professional fisherman and would spends weeks at a time out at sea. In order to properly teach fishing and navigating the school had a boat, fully equipped with a navigation system and depth finder. Unfortunately that program has gone by the wayside many years ago and subsequently left that boat beached beside the principle's house. However, this year, after the arrival of our new school principle my supervisor, Sione, and some of the other resident teachers decided it was time to persuade the the new principle and reclaim the boat... so that's what they did.

At first, when Sione mentioned one day that we would be going fishing the next week, I chuckled figuring that he was yanking my chain. It wasn't until the boat showed up outside our workshop that I realized he was serious. The boat itself, the Toutai Fakakosipeli (Fishing in the manner of the Gospel), ain't much to look at. It's an all fiberglass hull, pale beige, with a nice storage space up front, two good seats under an awning, and a few wooden benches to the back. It's not quite an ocean explorer, but it sure is a step up from the Tongan standard, with their leaky wooden hulls and sparse dry space. After wiring all the appropriate lights and outfitting it with a meager 30hp outboard engine, she was ready for the water!

LtoR: Naisa, Fili, and Mone

To date, I've been on two of the three fishing trips. The first, our maiden voyage, was a short overnight trip to just outside the wharf. We anchored the boat just off shore of a village called Tu'anuku in the middle of the long narrow channel that funnels into the Neiafu harbor. We were eight, including myself, Sione, Mone (co-worker), Fili (co-worker), Sinipata (teacher at the high school), Lopeti (Sione's son), Naisa (the schools head tutor), and a tag-along student from the boarding school. With a light shinning into the water we wasted the night away joking and pulling in fish on our multi-hook hand lines, wound around plastic 20oz bottles.

Lopeti steers, Sione stares

After sleeping whenever and where ever we could on our small vessel, and having had our fill of laughs, raw fish and sporadic rain showers, we made way for the harbor at day break. The atmosphere was jovial as we rolled into the school grounds with a cooler full of fish. The children, already in the midst of their early morning shenanigans, called out eagerly with hungry eyes while the wives waved with relief from their doorsteps. In a very telling gesture, the cooler of fish was off loaded at the head tutors house, where it was

divvied up and sent with children to each household on campus, with no regard to whether or not their patriarch had joined in the expedition. The biggest fish was saved, and sent to the principle at her house across town. Everyone would eat fish that evening.

I politely refrained from joining on the second outing, but couldn't resist tagging along for the most recent one, which boasted a trip to Hunga, Sione's home island and the only remaining inhabited island in the Vava'u group that I hadn't yet visited. This journey would be a bit longer, and joined by Sione, Mone, Sinipata, and Lopeti we would venture into the deep open ocean waters to the outside of Hunga. From the early afternoon into the evening we cast our deep water lines to depths of 120 meters, with hopes of pulling in some larger fish. While on the last voyage, we raked in two and three smaller fish at a time, this trip would find us reeling-in and casting-out again with out so much as a nibble. This evening, the cooler remained empty. As we made our way closer to the Hunga lagoon, I laid down, drifting in and out of sleep inside the boat's small cabin, as the others pulled in and ate some small reef fish. Around 11pm, we had had enough, and with the dock in sight and light from the kava hall glistening on the water, we tied up the boat and spent the evening drinking kava into the wee hours of the morning.

The days catch, first trip

Fili and Naisa divide up the fish

Awaking at sunrise the next day, with about 3 hours of sleep, we bobbed across the boats, from the large, wooden Tongan longboat in which we slept into our own fiberglass flotsam and puttered out of the lagoon and into the ocean once again. While trolling between spots we managed to catch a few small skip-jack tuna and one small yellow fin. Using the skip-jack as bait, we lured in a few more fish throughout the day, few and far between though they were. Most of our time was spent shielding ourselves from the sun and dozing in any awkward position we could manage. Finally at the end of our expedition, with our cooler reasonably filled, we motored back home to fill our bellies with our first square meal in over a day. Happy to find our beds again we slept peacefully as the lingering roll of the ocean rocked us into slumber.

Men at work

Toutai Fakakosipeli

New Island, New Adventures

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-05-11 23:20:00

Sorry for the lack of posts lately, but hopefully this one will make up for it. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, I recently had to leave my island in Vava’u. I absolutely loved Vava’u, but moving was the right thing to do. I’m still not sure if this will be a temporary move or if I will permanently move until the end of my service in December. But for now, I am living on the main island, Tongatapu.

Tongatapu has lots of great things to offer. For one, I started working at the Catering & Hospitality School at Queen Salote College. It is the exact program I taught in Vava’u, so it has been a fairly easy transition. Another benefit of living on Tongatapu is the food. There is a fabulous market and Saturday fair with quite the selection of food. There is good peanut butter, black beans, heaps of vegetables and even American cereal. Also, the restaurants are really yummy. There is an awesome pizza place and several good cafes. Lastly (although the list could go on), I recently joined the royal choir. They are the choir that performs at the King’s church and at royal events. They are a really talented group, and I am very lucky to have the opportunity to sing with them. Currently, we are rehearsing for the Wesleyan conference that will be held at the end of June.

I’ve also had the opportunity to attend some really cool events since I’ve moved. Last weekend, I went to an art show in town. A group called “On the Spot” organized the event which showcased local artists. There was some beautiful artwork! Another event last weekend was the children’s Sunday. I went to church with my friend Kaitlin in her village, Utulau. My favorite was listening to the preschool kids read the hymns and scripture, they are adorable!

Lastly, the most exciting news of all, Rachel will be here to visit next week!!! I can’t wait to see her, I’m sure we will have some fabulous adventures. More updates on that soon!

The Tongan Royal Family Tree

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-05-03 02:49:00

Last year, out of utter confusion about who was related to whom, I created a royal family tree. But families change, teenagers grow up, and the royal family has had quite a big change lately- the change in kings - as well as the much talked-about royal wedding between HRH Prince 'Ulukalala (Crown Prince Siaosi Tuku'aho) and Hon. Sinaitakala Fakafanua.

I've updated the family tree and re-posted it below, some with new pictures, some with better pictures, and some the way they've always been.

As always, 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.

A big PLUS for Youth in Business

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-04-26 22:05:00

The team receives the big cheque from the Minister of Education

"WE WON!!!" The team lept up to recieve their huge cheque on the stage and I couldn't stop myself from yelling and clapping from the audience. The team, PLUS Archi-Design & Management from Tupou Tertiary Institute, had just won first place and $TOP 2,300 to start their business.

It was the culmination of the first stage of the Youth in Business awards that most of the secondary and tertiary schools have competed in for the past several weeks. Currently in its third year of operation, 11 secondary schools and 7 tertiary schools sent teams to take part in the competition. Each school's team had been working to develop their own startup business, which were judged in ten-minute presentations last week. Ideas ranged from coconut cookies and cleaning services to PLUS Archi-Design & Management, an architectural design services business - the tertiary idea that won.

The team celebrates, including the Tonga Business Enterprise Centre (TBEC) manager, who was one of the judges

I'd been asked by my (now) friend and (former) TDB colleague Sina to be a mentor for the team, and together with her husband, the team's tutor, we enjoyed helping the team work through their ideas, revise the business plan, and hone their presentation. The business idea is a great one: the team members are advanced architectural design students, some with former experience in construction management, and their business essentially provides low-cost conception, drafting, and design services to higher-end homeowners across Tonga. In several years, they also plan to branch into actual project management services.

The Dean of Tupou Tertiary Institute (far right) provided a lot of support to the team

When they showed me a sample design package they'd created for their first customer, I saw the beauty of what they were selling: the tangible inspiration to make homeowners dreams a reality. This first customer wanted to build an addition to his house, and thanks to their services, he was able to see exactly what it would look like, what it would cost, and what it would take to get there.

During the next 5 months, all the qualifying teams will start and run their business to see how it fares. The teams that do well will be assessed in the next round of the competition, and the narrowed-down list of winners selected will recieve additional seed funding and advising services. Our team has good cards in its hand: it's just won the top amount of seed funding, has enthusiasm and skills, and an excited group of mentors supporting it along the way.

The excited group of mentors, and a young "mentor" too!

My Angry Stomach: an update

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-04-23 06:20:00

Cooking in Tonga with a sensitive stomach is sometimes an exercise in creativity. Fresh food is seasonal, starches other than root crops and bread are unusual, and good quality meat of any kind is particularly hard to get. Since I developed stomach problems last year and discovered it was IBS, I've honed my list of "safe," "somewhat safe," and "not safe" foods. I was surprised at how many people have IBS, and while what I've learned doesn't work for some, it's at least a good place to start.

A digestive system with IBS cannot process "short chain fermentable carbohydrates," which happen to be in a surprising number of foods. Wheat (not gluten) is a big source of these. Milk (lactose is a short chain fermentable carb) is another. But then there are also foods like tomatoes, cabbage, papaya, coconut milk, honey, and certain kinds of beans that have a high content of these indigestible carbs. The only food group that is completely safe is meats; red meat, chicken, fish, sea food, and eggs are fine in any quantity.

The good news is that a stomach with IBS is like a glass of water: it can actually have a certain amount of these short chain fermentable carbohydrates until it says ENOUGH! and rebels against me. The glass slowly empties over time, which means that if I have a slice of bread in the morning, a small portion of cabbage with lunch, and tomato sauce with dinner, I'm useless by the evening because it all adds up over the day.

This also quite wonderfully means that I never have to ask for special meals when eating at someone else's house or eating out; I hate putting people through that trouble, and I can enjoy whatever the meal is as long as I've eaten "safe" foods for the rest of the day. I can fill up the glass all at once, so to speak. IBS is also significantly triggered by stress, so exercise and trying my best (but sometimes failing) to keep a relatively relaxed schedule helps too.

The biggest change was what to eat in the mornings- almost every breakfast food has either wheat or milk in it! Yoghurt (with its live cultures) is very good for IBS, so we make that regularly, and I just discovered how to make oat milk at home, which tastes a little like soy milk. For special breakfasts, Mark makes some amazing wheat-free pancakes.

Just because we're proud of it, here's our version of wheat-free (never thought I'd be one to follow that fashionable craze), dairy-free pancakes that are good enough to have even if you can eat those things:

1 egg

1 Tb virgin coconut oil (the Tonga National Youth Congress has just started making it!) or olive oil

1 C water, more or less

Mix above ingredients together, add:

1 C oats

2/3 C rice flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

Cook like normal pancakes. Since we have no maple syrup, we eat them with Mark's delicious guava paste and yoghurt. Several times a week.

With a little creativity, I've been able to eat very well over the past year, and enjoy Tonga's variety of delicious fruits and veggies.

MySwearInSpeechZambia-April2011.mp4

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Tonga"&search_sort=video_date_uploaded

2012-04-19 14:17:18

	MySwearInSpeechZambia-April2011.mp4 My Tonga Speech presented at our Swear In Ceremony. Sorry it is sideways lol.	From: PCVJessica Views: 0 0 ratings
	Time: 01:22	More in People & Blogs

Respect

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga ...desertwinds/tropicalbreezes

2012-04-12 07:59:00

The other day, I got a lift from one of my co-workers, a young man in his mid 20's. He's a genuinely nice person and as I asked if I could get a ride to do an errand, he replied, "You don't need to ask. Just get in, David."

We soon came upon a traffic jam and I asked if he knew what is going on. He explained it was for a funeral of someone from a neighboring district. This prompted me to ask if he was still wearing black to honor the recent passing of the King. He shook his head and matter of factly said, "respect". I then realized he was from the same district as the deceased in the funeral procession.

The Tongan word for respect/honor is faka'apa'apa. It's not just something you say or think about, it's something Tongans live by.

What a beautiful way to learn a language.

The royal funeral of King George Tupou 5 in pictures

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-04-01 00:32:00

Sports day, weddings, and all sorts of events were cancelled because of the funeral. Bilboards advertising events got a makeover just outside of town, complete with purple draping.

Kids prepared for the royal casket's procession from the airport by sitting on the side of the streets for up to 5 hours before the actual passing of the late King.

My office did a great job decorating our building, and we were all prepared in our funeral clothes for the royal casket's procession.

As a further sign of respect, people laid out valuable tapa cloth on the roads for the cars to roll over. It is said that at Queen Salote Tupou 3's funeral in the 60s, people had laid out so much tapa that the wheels of the vehicle never touched the ground.

International media came in to film, and the NZ film crews charmed everyone by wearing the customary funeral mourning clothes.

As we heard radio announcements of the procession getting nearer, everyone started lining the sides of the road.

My coworkers and I came out and sat on the curb outside our office, feet sticky from the newly tarred roads.

That evening was the " 'a po," or vigil, and groups of school kids kept fires alight encircling the palace while the churches each held their prayer services in turn, from 6pm to 6am.

The next day, everyone started getting ready for the funeral proper. While I was leading foreign delegates from the airport to their places at the funeral grounds, boys from Toloa secondary school were lining the street from the palace to the royal toumbs in the centre of town.

Soon enough, we could hear the procession approaching the Mala'e Kula, or field where the royal toumbs sit.

The huge funeral bier was carried by hundreds of students and alumni from local schools.

The bier was followed by the closest relatives. Here, one of the late King's nephews wears one of the biggest mourning outfits, signifying his closeness in kinship.

Soldiers accompanied more members of the royal family in procession behind the bier, some in fine mats so huge as to cover their faces.

Girls from Queen Salote girls college followed behind carrying the wreathes given by mourners from Tonga and around the globe.

The roses, usually nonexistant in Tonga's tropical climate, were still fresh.

The procession made its way into the funeral grounds down a path lined with school girls and surrounded by thousands of nobles, government officials, business people, and the general public.

The various matapule, or talking chiefs, sit on the white toumbs throughout the ceremony.

Mark had a good spot right behind the foreign media crews.

The socldiers and marines stood at attention throughout the three-hour ceremony.


The service proceeded as indicated, very similar to a Wesleyan church service, and at the end, the earth was shoveled by hand to cover the royal casket.

Contrary to the original announcement that the mourning period would last for three months, the new king declared after the funeral that the period would end on the Saturday following the funeral. In later interviews with the royal family, it was explained that this was in an effort to reduce the financial burden on Tonga during uncertain economic times, because the longer the mourning period is, the more time each village has to repeatedly give huge gifts of pigs, yams, food, and money. Starting this coming week, all the restrictions will be lifted, and only the royal family will continue to wear black and the traditional funeral fine mats. Although the new king has been ceremonially sworn in as the next reigning monarch, there have been no announcements as of yet indicating when the official royal coronation will be.

Camp GLOW Vava'u needs your help!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-03-27 00:13:00

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=421-136

Camp GLOW is a wonderful opportunity for the young girls of Vava'u to learn about leadership, career opportunities, and healthy lifestyles. Please support this project with a donation, even a small donation will help. Malo 'aupito...thank you very much!

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=421-136

The path of the Royal Casket

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-03-25 21:24:00

At 8:20 PM last night, Sunday 26 March (Hong Kong time), His (Late) Majesty King George Tupou V departed on a Chinese aircraft, bound for Tonga. Accompanying the casket is his brother, the new King Tupou VI, his sister, HRH Princess Salote Pilolevu, his customarily adopted daughter, HRH Princess Angelika Latufuipeka Halaevalu Mata'aho (who is the daughter of the new King), and his neice, Hon Salote Maumautaimi Tuku'aho, as well as a retinue of government officials.

Meanwhile, in Tonga, schools have been lining up since early morning to line the (only) road from the airport to the palace in preparation for the funeral party's arrival at 12:30 pm. In the words of the official funeral schedule, "The royal cortege departs from Fua'amotu International Airport through an unbroken line of school children seated on either sides (sic) of Tuku'aho and Taufa'ahau roads, in silent homage to their Beloved Late Monarch."

The procession, which includes the royal family, the Prime Minister, the resident heads of diplomatic missions, nobles, the Chief Justice, and the Lord Speaker, will wind its way towards town, heralded by the school children and military salutes, to finally stop at the throne room in the Palace. There, the late king will lie-in-state while international VIPs from the Pacific and abroad, and friends of the royal family pay their respects. Tonight, churches will conduct the traditional prayer services always held at funerals, starting with the Free Wesleyan Church at 6PM, and finally concluding at 6AM tomorrow morning.

The funeral itself will commence tomorrow at noon, when over 100 men will bear the Royal Casket on its huge bier from the palace to the Royal Toumbs. The service will be much like a Wesleyan church service, with carefully scripted hymns, scripture lessons, and a sermon by the head of the Wesleyan church, Rev. Dr. 'Ahio.

Until then, each village, Ministry, and church group will continue to bring their puaka toho (literally "pig so large you have to drag it rather than carry it"), yams, tapa, fine mats, money, and other valuables. I have no doubt that there will be hundreds of thousands of dollars- if not millions- worth of gifts, to say nothing of the funeral itself. These will be presented to the Cheifly Undertaker Matapule (talking cheif), who will preside over the gift giving and then present those gifts to VIPs in the funeral, according to custom.

The Death of King George Tupou V

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-03-24 22:51:00

photo from mfat.govt.nz

Tonga's King George Tupou V died last Sunday at age 63 in a hospital in Hong Kong. So what does that mean for Tonga?

Well, for starters there is going to be a three month mourning period ending on June 19th. Several things will occur during this period:

everyone will be wearing black
no loud music
no bars
no sporting events
only church songs on the radio
no celebrations

The hardest part for me will be wearing black...thankfully I have several black shirts and skirts to get me through the three months, but it will require laundry at least a couple times a week. I am also disappointed about the cancellation of sports. The all-island track and field competition has already been cancelled and it looks like rugby and netball will be cancelled as well.

When the king's body comes back to Tonga on Monday, people living on the main island will line the road from the airport to pay their respects to the king. The funeral will be held on Tuesday and he will be buried at the royal burial grounds. The nobles and their respective villages are responsible for sending gifts of ngutu (tapa cloth), pigs, yams, and money. These are traditional gifts for any funeral, but will be even more extravagant for the king's funeral. Monday and Tuesday are both public holidays for the whole country, so there will be no school and businesses will be closed.

Here's to three months of mourning and a monochromatic wardrobe....looking forward to June 19th.

So long King George Tupou V

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-03-23 01:11:00

George Tupou V
(photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

We heard the news in the taxi as it sped through the rain to our respective offices. "Did you hear the news on the radio this morning?" the driver asks us. We gave him two blank stares and a "no..." Convinced we had understood the question but simply didn't know, or perhaps too excited to share the biggest news of the year, he continued on, "Tupou V died last night. He was in Korea. His brother is now the new King!"

The news spread fast; before long everyone was wearing black. On Tuesday, the official mourning period was declared by the newly confirmed Tupou VI: three months of mourning, backdated to the date of the late king's death. This means that everyone will be required by law to wear black from March 19th to June 19th. Radios are banned from playing anything except church hymns. School sports days were cancelled, we cancelled the upcoming On the Spot improv show, and there will be no performances, loud music, or construction of any kind during the next three months.

An exception was made for the road crew, who, after months of slowly making miniscule progress day after day on the repaving of Nuku'alofa's roads, suddenly found they could finish each road in a day! New roads are sticky with tar, and school kids have been working for the past three days to clean up the royal toumbs- by hand, because sweeping in the area with a broom is prohibited.

Now Tonga and the world are wondering when the funeral will actually be held. The official announcement that was broadcasted from the Prime Minister's office originally said it would be held next Wednesday, the 28th, only to be recanted several hours later. The new king had declared it be held on Tuesday the 27th, instead. There is still no actual confirmation of the date or the time, but everyone's assuming that it will indeed be held next Tuesday. Similarly, there is ongoing confusion about what will be a public holiday: is it Tuesday? Monday and Tuesday? Or perhaps Monday to Wednesday? One thing is certain: although most businesses will be closed, all the tourist-related services will be open and ready for business. Tonga will not shut down to visitors.

As it is customary to present gifts to the deceased's family, most ministries, noble families, and some businesses are planning to present massive traditional gifts of Tongan ngatu (tapa), mats, pigs, yams, and kava. Former colleagues at TDB are preparing their part of one Ministry contribution: the biggest pig they can find, the biggest kava root they can find, 500 yams, and $1000 in cash. This will be added to the rest of the Ministry of Public Enterprises' gift of thousands of dollars worth of ngatu, mats, and other koloa fakatonga, or tongan valuables. Considering that one yam alone is worth $50, the gifts presented throughout this period will be truly fit for a king.

I'll most likely be assisting the huge delegation of foreign representatives who are making a day's flight into Tonga for the memorial, whenever that will be. I'll publish another post in the next couple of days to describe the funeral and city preparations.

Now we're just counting our black shirts: since we only own two each, it looks like we'll be doing a lot of washing in the next three months ...

Time Travel in Tonga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga ...desertwinds/tropicalbreezes

2012-03-18 21:57:00

Sundays in Tonga are pretty quiet. It's traditionally a day for church, eating and sleeping. That's it. There are no restaurants open, except for a few. How that happens, I don't know. One can walk around, but not run. One can ride a bike, but not fast. No activity that exerts or appears to be work or play related, with the exception, of course, of cooking. Oh, and one can go down to the beach but no swimming allowed. The exception here being that there are tourists resorts, off island, where you can do all the swimming you want.

I respect Tonga's traditions and most Sundays can be found at home doing little things, as I was on this day, by sorting, labeling and organizing pictures. Just me, iPhoto and images from many years of living. So, on this particular Sunday, I traveled to Germany and happened upon the Wasserburg again. Sunday is, indeed, a great day for church, cooking, sleeping and rediscovering our changing world.

Wasserburg - Heldrungen, Germany, September 1976

In 1976 I traveled in Europe for 6 weeks. Our first destination was a small town in East Germany, Heldrungen, in the Thuringen region. The wall dividing Germany was still in place at this time. I happened upon a picture I took of the town wasserburg (water castle), pretty much in ruin, but it was being talked that it would be renovated/rebuilt one day - they were actually doing that to all the old castles in East Germany. I got curious and Googled Heldrungen, and lo and behold, the castle has been renovated and I was thrilled to see almost the same angle of a recent photo (2005) as the one I took 31 years prior. How nice!

From all the sites listing hotels near the castle, it appears it is a major attraction and was home to a youth hostel. Not sure if it still is.

There's a wiki doc here about the history of the fortress - it's been around for quite some time. It's a google translation from German, so it may read a little wacky.

Matamaka GPS

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-03-13 04:34:00

Last year, one of my Peace Corps friends was working at a government primary school on one of the outer islands. His village, Matamaka, is about an hour boat ride from the main island of Vava'u where I live. My friend started a project to repair the school wall and build new benches. When he left last year, the project was ongoing so he passed it on to me. We recently received all the funding and just started purchasing supplies. Yesterday was the big shipment out to the island. We rented one of the biggest boats in Vava'u and loaded it up with bags of cement, concrete blocks, timber, metal rods and gravel. When we arrived at Matamaka, lots of people turned up to help us unload, even the school children! Construction should begin soon, which is very exciting. Look for future blog posts about the finished project!

How to fix an $80 million hole

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-03-11 07:58:00

Tonga's biggest export is its people. It manufactures them (in large numbers), refines them in government and church schools, and adds value by encouraging them to pursue postgrad degrees. An oft-quoted fact which may be urban legend but does have some truth to it is that Tonga has the highest per-capita rate of PhDs in the world. Tonga's exports go to work in a range of jobs at every level, and send back money from primarily the US, New Zealand, and Australia to their families in Tonga. And so, unlike most economies that are affected by the business cycle and market forces, the economy here is heavily affected by the employment rate elsewhere.

This money sent by overseas families, or remittances, are the greatest single contributor to the economy. Topping most other Pacific island countries, Tongan families overseas send money back totalling around 30% of its GDP. So when those families aren't making as much- when unemployment in the US remains high or when prices in NZ go up, the Tongan economy goes down.

In the last three years, remittances have dropped about TOP$80 million. Furthermore, the National Reserve Bank of Tonga, the national bank that keeps all the statistics, among doing many other things, noted that the value of the goods being exported out of Tonga is often far higher than the actual money coming in because of those exports. And the government reserves are high and stable, but are heavily propped up by donor funding. The reserve bank saw this alarming trend, and called an "Economic Dialogue" to bring together members of parliament, representatives from the banks, church leaders, small business owners, and major players in the three current productive sectors of the economy- tourism, agriculture, and fishing- to put their heads together to create strategies to fix this hole in the economy.

I attended both days of the two-day dialogue and heard some very interesting comments and presentations. There seemed to be general concensus about the un-business-friendly tax laws and lisencing regulations limiting business growth - lisencing at least is due to change this year apparently after a review by the Ministry of Labour and Commerce. Comments came up regularly showing dissatisfaction at the recent Chinese reconstruction loan the government took that required all construction work to be carried out by Chinese companies, therefore channeling all the money back to China.

Many pointed out the need for the three main sectors of the economy to work more together; as of the present, there's a lot of misunderstandings and competition between tourism, agriculture, and fisheries, to the detriment of all. Some called for government support of remittances, such as lowering fees for money transfer, or facilitating work programmes with other governments. Others asked why tourism was often relegated to last place in priority, even though it brought in roughly 5 times the amount of both agriculture and fisheries combined last year.

The dialogue was due to end at 4pm on Thursday, after a session coalating all the strategies into a recommendation for government. When 5pm rolled around and we were still hurriedly rushing through presentations on tourism, I knew there wouldn't be much strategy discussion that day. The package of strategies to boost the economy will be ostensibly coalated and presented next week, and based on what I heard during the event, everybody will be watching closely to see if the government follows one of the commenter's exhortations: "Knowledge is not the problem. We know what we need to do. Now we need to 'fai ha me'a!" (do something!).

Family Photo

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-11 00:01:00

Here I am, enjoying a pleasant African afternoon with my next-door neighbors and a few passers-by in our grassy yard. I’m thinking of printing two copies, one to give to my neighbors as a gift and the other to hang on my wall. I want to remember these happy moments.

Like most family photos, however, it is a little too perfect to accurately portray my life. It's staged. It's the best of many failed shots. It's not really a picture of my life.

To get a sense of what my life is really like, you must know what’s not in the picture. You don’t see that this is the only patch of grass on an otherwise dirt-brown property. You don’t see any sweat marks because we waiting until the sun was almost down to take the photo. You don’t see the kids fighting or crying or the mom getting upset with them.

You don’t see the more than two dozen spectators (mostly children) behind the camera or just outside the frame, because “HEY EVERYONE! COME! THE WHITE MAN TAKING A PHOTO!”

You don’t see that the camera is mounted on a tripod that is straddling barbed wire, and that to adjust the camera I am straddling a trash trench. You don’t see that I wasn’t in the first shot because my jeans got caught on the barbed wire and it took me longer than the 10-second timer to get free, and that this made the spectators laugh heartily.

You don’t see that I was the only one looking at the camera for the next few shots because I hadn’t explained very well the concept of a 10-second timer, an that when they figured it out they thought that it was really cool.

You do see me looking happy, and that’s not staged. My life isn’t as perfect as it looks in the photo, but life rarely is ever as perfect as we try to remember it. My neighbors cook for me, look out for me, help me get water, they remind me when I forget to take my dry clothes off the line and when I forget to bring my porch chairs inside after dark. They care about me, and I care about them. Over time, I’ll remember those things and forget the dust, the dirt, the crying, the fighting, the trash, and the barbed wire.

Plainfield North Rocks!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Toki Sio America! ...I'll see you later!

2012-03-09 00:56:00

Here's an ode to Plainfield North High School and their delightful highlighter yellow t-shirt! Thanks to Mrs. Graves' class for being great pen pals and supporters. :)

Killer Queens

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-09 00:01:00

Of all the fundraising ideas I’ve ever seen – bake sales, car washes, auctions, raffles, etc – nothing has been as raucous and baleful as the Grand Bassa High School Queen Competition. Each section of each class selected a student queen whose job was to solicit funds on behalf of the class. At the end of the fundraising period, the money went to the school and the queen who raised the most money was crowned Queen of Grand Bassa High School and had her tuition waived for the following year.

The parameters seem civil enough. You’d expect queens to run of platforms of diligence and moral character: “Please donate money to me because I am very poor, I get good grades, I always do my homework, I work outside of school, I volunteer my time in the community, and I’m a sweet person.”

That’s who’d I’d give my money to.

Instead, the candidates took a different direction. Here are some of the official platforms of the candidates, as posted on the school bulletin board (names are edited out).

Queen of class 10-3

"Ghana was known before as Gold Coast, and if it will take me few hours to go to Ghana, which indeed I will, just one piece of Gold or diamond will make me Royal Highness. So fellow contestants, step aside now, for I will show you what the name _______ is all about."

Queen of class 10-1

"Companies just promise but do not do as promised. Don’t make a big mouth about these cheap companies. They do not even pay their workers. So do not tell lies about them. As for me, I have serious contact with UNMIL (United Nations Mission in Liberia). I will just kill you all with American Dollars, raw, fresh, and ready."

Queen of class 10-2

"How much is a car sold for? I have two cars to be sold now. Do not worry. I am already Miss Bassa High, so [10-1], stop telling people that you have contact with UNMIL."

Queen of class 7-3

I am the only child for my mother and father and I are deeply loved. Anything I ask of, is always given me. I am going to ask for the highest I have never asked for and I know it will be given me. Believe it or not.

Queen of class 8-3

"My father __________is a big teacher at the Bassa High School. He has already told the CEO that all of his money must be given to me. Just imagine that amount of money my father is making per month. So liars, stop telling stories to people."

Queen of class 7-2

"Do not see me small like this and you overlook me. My Uncle is the head of the Finance Ministry. He will be in Buchanan with the President of Liberia on Friday at 10:00am. I ask that you leave the race before the students laugh at you."

Queen of class 11-3

"Have you heard of the [surname] of Harlandsville? They are the richest people in Grand Bassa County. So, try to be afraid of [them]. They are not lions to eat you, but money people to win any competition. So, stay away."

Queen of class 9-3

"I am worrying about the statement [11-3] made. Because I, _______, know [their surname] very well. They are money making people but their money is all in Liberian dollars. [I am] loved by the international world. I will defeat anyone who stands my way. So no monkey must put foot."

They advertized their wealth, their connections, and their power, which was not the direction I would have taken. I don’t think I would give my money to someone who said, “Give me your money because I said so, because my family runs a ministry, because I have international friends, because I am rich, and because you should be afraid of me.” But I’m not Liberian, and by the amounts of money I saw collected into bags before the final program, the fundraiser was clearly working.

The weeks-long contest culminated in a 4-hour long program in the school’s packed auditorium that interspliced long periods of dancing to loud West African Pop Music (mostly P-Squared) with 4 rounds of money collection.

The queens sat behind collection boxes at the foot of the stage and tried to rally the community to drop give them hard currency for the first 3 collection rounds. After each round the MC announced the totals. Natalie, one of my two fellow PCVs in Buchanan, sat next to me in a chair on the stage behind the queens. We attempted futilely to cool ourselves with makeshift fans, but by the second round we were sweat-soaked from the heat and palpable humidity.

During the final collection round an adult “sponsor” from each class presented the money that had been raised during the weeks prior. Natalie, her class’s sponsor, was happy to finally lose the responsibility of holding on to so much money, and perhaps even happier that the program was almost over. I was surviving better because I had sneaked away for an hour to print my school exams and because I had been able to read an entire book, Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior by Ori Brafman and Rom Brafman, during the program. Natalie spent her 4 hours like a champion, smiling, meeting people, encouraging her students, and keeping her queen hydrated.

It ended so suddenly. I didn’t catch the victor of the final tally, but there was lots of screaming and the auditorium emptied in an uproarious torrent into the school courtyard. It wasn’t until afterwards, when Natalie and I recuperated over beers at one of Buchanan’s best known watering holes, the Grand Bassa High School Cafeteria, that I learned that Natalie’s queen had unfortunately not won the contest.

A grueling 4-hour dancing marathon with spiteful rhetoric would probably not raise much money in the States, but I must say that it worked plenty well at Grand Bassa High School. They school raised an impressive $1800 USD. I’ve thought about encouraging the same fundraising model at my own, much smaller, high school. I wonder what rhetorical gems our queens would say.

Garden Fairies: Take 2

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Toki Sio America! ...I'll see you later!

2012-03-08 23:51:00

Last year around this time, I received a delightful surprise in the form of neighborhood ladies attempting to spruce up my little yard. By spruce up, I mean cut the knee high grass, chase out some pigs, and pull a profuse amount of weeds!

This year, instead of waiting for the neighborhood ladies to take pity on the poor Peace Corps’ yard, I put my students’ excess energy to good use. All 23 of my Class 6 hooligans paraded down the street to my house after school. We cranked up some tunes and began hacking away at the VERY tall grass in my yard. Every time I tried to cut some grass or even pick up a broom, one of the kids would come steal it away and demand that I sit down and ‘supervise’ the music selection. [They recently learned about ‘demands’ and ‘requests’ in class and definitely enjoy the ‘demands’ a bit more than the ‘requests’!]

As you can see, I decided this was a good time to bring out the camera. Unfortunately, the productivity of my little workers decreases significantly anytime a camera appears. I had to start telling them I would only take pictures of kids who were actually working. I can never get a good candid, they enjoy posing for the pictures way too much!

A good time was had by all, and the rat situation has abated a bit thanks to brush reduction. What a successful day!

The Middle of Nowhere

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-08 00:01:00

Start from my compound, described by my country director as “definitely one of the most remote sites” in Peace Corps Liberia, where the nearest “hospital” or store with an aisle in it as more than an hour away on a dirt road; walk fifteen minutes north along the main road before turning left onto a nondescript narrow walking path; follow it for a strenuous hour long hike over gently sloping terrain, past the house of the man with the pet monkey and over the makeshift wooden bridges across two creeks until to you reach the small village with the old-school blacksmiths; say hello; continue through the village, down the slope and across the log bridging the creek; hike another strenuous half an hour over one more creek until you reach a pleasant village between 500 and 800 people, depending on who you ask.

You are now in Wessah Town, in the absolute middle of nowhere.

That’s where I found myself at 9:00 on a recent Sunday morning, exhausted, already slightly inebriated from gulping the village elder’s palm wine, and surrounded by dozens of gaping faces. They didn’t get many visitors.

I made the rounds, shaking hands, greeting in Bassa, showing children their faces on my camera, and trying desperately to remember the names of the men who had invited me here when they came to my house two weeks earlier. As happy as I was to be in their village experiencing their culture, they seemed even happier to have me. It wasn’t until after a filling brunch of spicy fish soup over cassava mash, and then a long tour of their village, that I learned why.

Wessah town wanted help. They wanted a second water pump, they wanted to have more than just one latrine for their entire population, they wanted to start a fish farm, and most importantly, they wanted a road to connect them to the rest of the world. They hoped I could conjure the money to make it all happen.

I felt for them. They needed more than one water pump and more than one latrine. They needed a road to bring their local goods (pineapple, palm oil, and cassava) to our market. They needed a road for medical emergencies. They needed a road to bring any sorts of supplies to their village. Everything not produced within the village had to be carried on their heads from town. But besides pointing them in the direction of grants opportunities, there wasn’t much I could do.

They are disappointed but still determined to complete the projects. I’ll help them complete the grant applications and I’ll find them other people who can help. None of these will be able to happen before I finish my Peace Corps service, but hopefully one day I can return to friendly Wessah town by 20-minute taxi, and not by 1 ½ hour strenuous hike.

The Hike:

The Middle of Nowhere:

To Print or Not to Print

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-07 20:44:00

To print or not to print… those, I thought, were the options.

I could not print two class’ period 4 exams and then write the exam questions on the blackboard. But then I'd need to fit the entire both objective (multiple choice and matching) and subjective (short answer) test on a two-paneled blackboard Would I write the test on the board before the students entered the room, where eyes will spy from the cinderblock-gap windows? Or would I write the test while forty something students were already in the room and my eyes weren’t watching them?

Or, I could print my exams onto actual paper. This would mean charging each student money; the school does not have electricity, a printer, a photocopier, or any budget for printing. It is not uncommon in Liberia for schools to charge students for such materials, and students accept it as long as you can keep the total cost per student under the price point of $10 LD (14 cents USD). That’s less than the cost of 3 text messages, and students are always on their phones, but try to charge them any more and you’d think you had just burned their houses down.

These were the two options my principal gave me.

I chose to print my exams. I wanted my students to practice actually taking a test on paper, as would happen on the all-important West African Examination Committee (WAEC) Exams. I wanted to better control cheating too, and having a paper test meant eyes should stay down on their own papers. Printing for $10 LD required a trip to Buchanan, the county’s biggest population center – printing locally would cost double – and fortunately I was headed that way anyway for a bank run and to socialize with my two other PCV friends Jess and Natalie.

It was at their home in Buchanan, where they live next door to my District Education Officer (DEO), that I learned about a magical third option.

“Yes, I can help you print your exams,” said the DEO confidently from his porch. “And it will be free. I can give you the paper and the stencils and you’ll just get them copied over at Grand Bassa High School with Jess and Natalie.”

I didn’t comprehend the cranking gesture he made with his hands, or the meaning of the word stencils. But I was ecstatic.

“I’ll give you the materials tomorrow” he said, retiring inside.

I turned ebulliently to Jess and Natalie. “Perfect! He’ll help me with the photocopies.”

“I don’t think you’re getting photocopies.” Natalie said. “I think he was talking about the mimeograph.”

“The WHAT?”

The next morning I found myself touching a typewriter for my first time. It was the first time I had even seen one outside of a museum. Natalie set in a clean sheet of practice paper for me so I could learn to use the artifact before typing directly on the stencils. I typed a few letters and made a mistake.

“No backspace, huh?” I asked.

“You can backspace, but you’ll have to type directly over your mistake,” she said.

I backspaced and overlapped a “p” on an “o.” When I finished my first line, I asked for help finding the enter button.

“You have to pull this black handle,” Natalie said.

After five more minutes of painfully slow progress, many typos, and a key jam, she took over. For forty-five minutes, Natalie carefully typed my period 4 exams onto four separate carbon-paper mimeograph stencils. This was how all her fellow Grand Bassa High School teachers produced their tests, and after a year and a half of practice she was an expert.

"So this black lever's the enter button?"

Like a 1950s professional

“Now to the Mimeograph!”

The mimeograph man undid a large padlock and opened the heavy metal door of the dark closet of the mimeograph room. He took my stencils and removed the top white sheet of each stencil, exposing middle sheets of dark carbon paper. He squeezed a black paint from tooth-paste like tubes into drops onto the sheets, then rubbed around with his thumbs. As he prepared the stencils, I moved to marvel at the machine itself.

I was fascinated. I couldn’t understand how the imprinted stencils could produce copies. It seemed almost magical, like it was some new form of cutting-edge technology.

The mimeograph man aligned my first stencil on a roller in the machine, set a stack of paper in the machine’s back, and began cranking. Sheets churned out like magic. I was stupefied.

After he cranked out a few sheets, however, the mimeograph man stopped. He handed me one of my copies and said, plainly, “your stencils are bad.”

The stencils apparently were old and were making illegible copies. I could start all over by buying new stencils from the store, but I both didn’t want to force Natalie into another 40-minute typing session and didn’t want to spend the next several hours of my own time failing to produce quality stencils. That killed the mimeograph option. – I would get my exams photocopied instead, and I would charge my students.

Spreading the ink

The magic machine

There is no Kinkos in Buchanan. I took original prints of my exams, done at my own expense in my village, to an Indian man with a store front just a block from the school. Over the sound of his gasoline generator I yelled that I needed fifty copies of each, and he assigned his associate to begin copying my pages. Instead of pressing “50” on the key pad and then “start,” he copied each one individually. It took 45 minutes, and many of the pages were crooked or sporting either thick black lines or faded stripes where the toner was low. I didn’t care. The price was $10 per test.

It's no Kinko's

Hopefully next period I can find better quality stencils for the mimeograph. I really want to use that piece of exciting technology.

White Man Hello

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-06 18:28:00

“White man hello!”

“Hey white man!”

“Quipoga!” (Bassa for white man)

“White man oh!”

I hear these constantly. Whether I’m walking to the market, walking to school, sitting on my porch, or cooking in my kitchen; little Liberian children love getting my attention. It sounds derogatory, but it’s not. They always say it with a smile and a wave in the desperate hope that I’ll smile and wave back. That’s all they want – the attention of a white man. And if I can go further and say something to them in Bassa they usually explode in jubilation. “The white man speaking Bassa!”

Here in rural Grand Bassa I understand that yelling “White man hello” (said as though it is just one word) is by far the easiest way to get my attention. I’m the only white man within miles. “John!” is growing as people learn my name, but “Hey white man” will never stop. It's very similar here to Ha'apai, Tonga, where kids often yelled “Palangi-eh!” even well after they learned my name. Liberia is also different from Ha’apai, however, because there are more white people in Ha’apai and there is a much higher population density here of Liberians. I never heard “Palangi!” yelled as often as I now hear “White man hello!”

It doesn’t bother me at all. How can you get sour at a smiling child’s face? At least they like me.

Unfortunately, not every child likes me. Because of how my remoteness, I am sometimes the first white person a child has seen up close. And for some children, my white skin is absolutely terrifying.

It’s always funny when it happens. The child will run crying to their mother or an older sibling who then, just for fun, exacerbates the fear by forcing the child closer to me. The crowd that forms usually bellows with laughter as they watch the child squirm. I don’t want give any child white-deviled nightmares, so I usual retreat. Only once did I raise my arms like a Grizzly bear, roar, and chase the child around a table – the crowd absolutely loved that scene, but I felt bad later.

I hope that kid learns one day to call me with a smiling “White man hello!”

The most well-travelled dish in Tonga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-03-06 07:26:00

Sapasui: it generally tastes better than it looks

Pop quiz: where does Tongan chop suey come from? Ask where sapasui gets its origins, and some people might say, "That delicious mix of glass noodles, kapa pulu (corned beef), veggies, and soy sauce? It's Tongan, of course." And they would be absolutely right about this global dish, in a way. It's usually a side dish that always shows up at feasts, to be eaten ostensibly with the huge pile of fluffy baked yams and roast suckling pig, and something I thought had come from the influence of the large handful of Chinese immigrants who have made their lives in Tonga.

And so when I offered to make sapasui for a welcoming party that On the Spot held last night for some incoming volunteers, I expected to find a similar dish's Chinese equivalent. In hind sight, it is hard to believe the exact magnitude of my sapasui naivite.

Little did I know the controversial past of sapasui when first researching this recipe. Although no one is quite sure where it came from, most seem to agree that it was either created in the US for the American palette by a Chinese cook, or that a heavily changed version was popularized in the US from an original dish that may have been called, at some point, za sui, which apparently means "cooked entrails." Yum.

Origin stories abound. Some tongue-in-cheek storytellers propose it came from an angry chef at a San Francisco restaurant who threw leftovers together and creatively changed "Chopped Sewage" into a more palatable name. Others cite the creative efforts of a Chinese chef trying to feed drunken miners, another substitutes the miners for rail workers. Yet another favourite is the Chinese man who was invited to the US White House to dine with the President. When he found the food unpallateable, he went in to the kitchen to throw something together himself. Perhaps, I speculate, this was during Eleanor Rosevelt's stint at the White House? Although these seem to be nothing more than creative stories, they do demonstrate the extent to which Chop Suey had entered the American consciousness, even by the mid 20th century.

And then somehow, sapasui leaped to the Pacific. Based on the fact that most sources for other countries' versions refer to the Samoan sapasui, I would make a strong guess that it made its way to Samoa and the rest of the Pacific through American Samoa. And from there, Tonga appropriated it. In complete storytelling fiction, I can just imagine that some Chinese cook made it in San Francisco, and years later, some American government worker brought it to American Samoa, and then after the dish having spread to the rest of Samoa, some Tongan member of the royal family on a visit to Samoa discovered the joy that was sapasui.

And so this Chinese, then American, then Samoan, then Tongan dish was discovered by myself, a technically American making it for an "all Tongan welcome dinner," held by a Tongan arts group for three Kiwis.

An important ingredient in sapasui

The original recipe I found was one I knew had to be authentic: it called for 4 full packages of glass noodles and its other ingredients included 1/4 cup of oil, 1.5 cups of soy sauce, and one pound of canned corned beef. To my joy, my search results also pulled up a Sapasui Myspace page, as well as a Sapasui blog site. Clearly their authors are afeccionados.

The easiest (and perhaps most shocking) method of cooking is this: boil a pot of water. Throw in a package of glass noodles. Wait until they get soft, then drain the water. Empty a small can of corned beef into the noodles, along with one can mixed veggies and as much soysauce as you need to make it salty enough. Mix and mix. Eat. But unless you're a poor bachelor, don't do that. Like what most people do for Tongan feasts, I cooked and drained the corned beef, chopped up fresh veggies, and spiced it up with garlic, onion, and some ginger, and it was delicious.

What's the history of sapasui? "If it taste good, it's history!" in the words of one gleeful website. And that's all that needs to be said.

Camp GLOW and Glow Worms (Unrelated, guys...)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Peace, Love, & the Pacific Islands

2012-03-06 04:59:00

On behalf of KO's kind response to my most recent (if you use the term recent loosely) post, I shall provide more information on Camp GLOW and the unrelated glow worms of New Zealand.

First, Camp GLOW, from last September...

The counselors all got there on the Sunday to prepare for the arrival of the girls on Monday. We had posters to make and classrooms to set up. We were also bonding and getting pumped. We had 5 counselors and 6 junior counselors (campers from the previous year). Everyone was super excited.

The girls came on Monday morning. Check-in was a little crazy, as we ended up having 35 girls- which is great! We were holding the camp at one of the schools in an outer village, Nukunuku. We used three of the primary school classrooms to sleep in and then used the hall for sessions and meals. Camp GLOW is an interesting camp because it's not just fun and games and sports like most summer camps, although those things are certainly included. Because it's about empowering and educating girls, we have a lot of class-type sessions. The girls learned about building self-esteem, setting goals, responding to sexual harassment, and the negative impacts of alcohol and drugs. They had time to reflect in their journals at the end of the day, and to discuss what they had learned within small groups.

Some highlights of Camp GLOW:

Visit to Parliament- the girls were only the 2nd student group to get a tour of the inside of Tonga's Parliament building! The first group was the previous year's Camp GLOW.
Model Mamas- the girls got matched up with women working in the community and went to work with these women, kind of like 'take your daughter to work day.' They visited with women who worked at the bank, the Peace Corps office, the airlines, the Tongan handicraft store, and a bunch of other different locations
the Career Panel- a number of professional women came to the camp and described their jobs to the girls. The girls got to ask questions of the women, and the session ended up extending far beyond is allocated time because the girls were so eager to talk to the women! It provided the girls with a lot of inspiration in terms of future careers and it was also great because so many of the women had families as well.
the Beach Clean-Up/Bonfire- we went to a nearby beach one day and did a clean-up of the area. Afterwards, we had time for swimming, volleyball, and just hanging out at the beach. When it started to get dark, we were able to have a bonfire!

Even though there were a few glitches in the program throughout the week, everything went very well and the girls had a great time. They definitely learned a lot! Our counselors were fantastic and so inspirational for the girls. Our junior counselors really stepped up, especially two girls who acted incredibly mature and were real leaders among their peers. Overall the week was a great success and we're hoping to have that happen again this year. Just started planning for Camp GLOW 2012, so be prepared for lots of information (and begging and pleading for money) when that comes!

________________________________

Unrelated glow worms (this is for you, KO!)...

SO COOL! We went on this cave tour at Waitomo while we were in New Zealand. There are a bunch of options for cave tours, but we decided to go with the smaller company which was definitely a great choice. There were only 5 of us on our tour- me and two friends as well as another couple. We went into the cave with our headlamps on but eventually turned them off so we could see the glow worms better.

Glow worms are little worms that feed off of little buggies in the river. So for the best glow worms, there needs to be a moving, fresh water river going through the cave. We got into a raft and our guide toured us up and down the river. It was so beautiful! Seeing the glow worms on the roof of the cave was like looking up at the stars, but being so close you could reach out and touch them (which we of course did not do). We were all completely silent and it was pitch black except for the worms. It was so, so amazing. I highly recommend this for anyone who happens to find themselves in New Zealand- and I recommend finding yourself there sometime soon!

Okay that's about it in terms of things the glow... hahaha.

Love and miss you lots!

xoxo

Banjo!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Peace, Love, & the Pacific Islands

2012-03-06 05:18:00

I have acquired a dog. His name is Banjo.

I got him in December when my friend John (johnoutsidethelines.blogspot.com), who had lived in Ha'apai and was finishing out his service, headed back to the US. Banjo and I had already had some bonding time when I visited Ha'apai, but I was still a bit nervous about him joining my household of toko taha pe (just one). I'm not a huge animal person. I like them, but I lack skills.

However, it's worked out fine. Banjo is a very smart dog and John trained him well, although he did spoil him a bit. Banjo sometimes stays in the house and sometimes outside. He barks at night but is learning not to as I discipline him in a kind but firm manner (hahaha). We are working on getting rid of his fleas with the medication I got from another volunteer. My neighbours like him (mostly) and the students at my school adore him because he is a kuli angalelei (nice dog) and they can pet him. He gets a little distracting during school sometimes but I think that will pass.

Overall, Banjo and I are having a great time together, although I know he misses John. Banjo pictures will be coming soon, probably on facebook! Not because I'm one of those people that likes to make facebook albums of their pets- seriously, no one wants to see those- but I promised John haha.

Love and miss you all!

xoxoxo

Before and After....

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Peace, Love, & the Pacific Islands

2012-03-06 05:34:00

So lots of things have changed since I came to Tonga. I shall share them with you, because some of them are interesting.

Before Tonga....

I couldn't stand to be in the same room as a spider. Seriously. One time I slept in my basement for three nights because I saw a tiny one crawl across my bed.

Now....

I kill giant wall spiders with my flip flop. This isn't as badass as volunteers who live in countries with poisonous spiders, but still.... big step.

Before Tonga....

I was a vegetarian for five years.

Now....

I'm not. Just devoured some barbecue. It was delicious.

Before Tonga....

I washed my hair every day.

Now....

I wash it a couple times a week. Last week, I didn't wash it for 6 days. It still looked fine (courtesy of headbands from Ms. Hannah Webb. Also, clarification- I shower, just don't wash my hair.)

Before Tonga....

I rarely drank soda.

Now....

I drink significantly more soda. It's one of my treats. Bad habit, I know.

Before Tonga....

I had two tattoos.

Now....

I have three tattoos.

I know that there are more of these, because I write them in my head pretty frequently. But now that I'm trying to actually type them up, I can't think of them! Ah! I'll try to write them down as they come up and then do another post on these before and afters.

xoxox

Coming Home...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Peace, Love, & the Pacific Islands

2012-03-06 05:56:00

I'll be home May 13th through May 31st for Josh's graduation. That is in just over 2 months. Get excited, people! I know I won't get to see everyone (sorry!), but don't worry, I'll be home only 6 or 7 months after that.

xoxo

They Tried to Eat My Eyeball

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-05 11:11:00

They tried to eat my eyeball when the carpenter quoted me $45 USD for a wooden table, and then settled for $15.

They tried to eat my eyeball when the taxi driver offered me a ride for $1000 LD, when it should only cost $250.

They tried to eat my eyeball when they tried to charged me $200 LD to store an extra bag in the back of a taxi, when it should only cost $25.

They tried to eat my eyeball when they charged me $150 LD for a bottle of talc powder, so I got the same bottle across the street for $100.

One of the only times I’m aware that anyone has actually eaten my eyeball was when I paid for 12 rolls of toilet paper and the seller only put 6 in my bag.

To eat someone’s eyeball is to cheat or scam someone, and it is by far my favourite Liberian-English colloquialism. These sorts of malfeasances are common in Liberia, unfortunately, but thankfully most Liberians aren’t out to con me. Often times just uttering Liberian-English phrase, “are you trying to eat my eyeball?” is enough to astonish a seller/service provider into backing down.

“You know Liberian-English!” they then say with a smile.

“Yes, I know some Liberian-English. Now please give me the rest of my toilet paper.”

A Peace Corps Volunteer

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-05 11:25:00

I'd like to celebrate the 400th posting on John Outside The Lines with a fun one. This has been circling Facebook recently. It is pretty close to reality.

To view a larger image directly on my Picasa site click here: https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/yybzxpt8dUVG9Vnq9Ztm4kaVQ8-sbX0Wa56H5ATQk4U?feat=directlink

How Its Made: Rubber

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-02 00:01:00

You may have seen on Discovery Channel’s How It’s Made how blocks of dark brown rubber get transformed into automobile tires, but have you ever wondered where those blocks of rubber come from? They come from tropical places like Liberia, where rubber is the country’s main economic export. This is the home of the world’s largest rubber plantation, owned and operated by Firestone Tire Company.

I live adjacent to a different yet still enormous rubber plantation, and the friendly plantation managers allowed our 12^th graders a tour. This wasn’t only for the sake of our chemistry class – most of these students will work for the company as manual laborers once they graduate from school (and some of them already work there part time).

It is a fascinating process, and it all begins with trees. The Liberians call them rubber trees, though I’m not sure that’s their real name. A sticky, milky white sap oozes from freshly scored cork cambium and drips into cups wired at the base of the candy-cane style cut (again, they call this white sap rubber but since they tell me the sap can also be transformed into Latex if processed differently, it might actually have a different name at this stage). This dripped sap is then either allowed to dry and harden while still in the cup, or the cup is poured into “slabs.”

The hardened rubber is trucked to the workshop and collected into giant piles, where it will further dry/harden for weeks, months, or even years (they said it never goes bad). After all that time exposed to dust and the African sun, the original pure-white becomes a dingy golden brown.

The rubber will eventually be cooked into a dark-brown brick, but first it must be chopped into clean chunks resembling a dry elastic cottage-cheese. This washing-chunking process begins with an hours-long water bath (rubber processing is water intensive). Rubber floats, and most of the dirt sinks or washes away. After many hours the rubber is lifted by automated baskets into a chopper.

Soaking

Lifted by baskets into the chopper

Now the size of golf and tennis balls, the rubber is dumped into a counter-clockwise torrent of rushing water that again washes away dirt.

Automated baskets take the balls into another chopper, and again get a bath. After perhaps one more round of washing-chopping, the rubber is sent through three rounds of conveyor-belt flattening.

After one final chopping, it is dumped as small clean chunks into these large metal trays.

These trays spend hours in an enormous oven, during which the loose white rubber fuses into dense brown blocks.

Strong men remove the blocks with picks and put them on scales. If they are under weight, scraps are added to them. If they are overweight, slices are taken off. The perfectly-weighted bricks are then ultra-pressurized (I think they said 2000 psi) into denser dark-brown blocks.

Time for plastic packaging, metal detecting for broken bits of machinery, stacking the bricks into crates, compressing the crates with heavy weights to save on shipping space, and distributing the rubber bricks into pallets at the warehouse.

Compressing

The Warehouse

We saw pallets waiting for shipment to Goodyear, Michellin, and Pirelli.

It was a great field trip. Special thanks to the management at our rubber factory for the permission to tour the factory and for their enthusiastic tour. To protect the company, however, I will keep them all anonymous.

100 and counting...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-02-26 01:22:00

I have read 100 books since coming to Peace Corps! Here are some of my favorites (in no particular order):

A Room with a View - E.M. Forster

The Sunday Philosophy Club - Alexander McCall Smith

Eat, Pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert

A People's History of the United States - Howard Zinn

White Teeth - Zadie Smith

Ishmael - Daniel Quinn

The Tuesday Night Club - Agatha Christie

The Help - Kathryn Stockett

This Side of Paradise - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The World is Flat - Thomas Friedman

And still plenty of time this year for more reading!

Recipe: Palm Butter Soup

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-03-01 00:01:00

Ingredients:

1 Handful Hot Peppers

1 Onion

½ Clove Garlic

1 Cup Rice

4 Handfuls of Palm Nuts (or are they called Palm fruits? I don’t know)

1 Medium-Sized Fish

Water

Step 1: Start the Palm Nuts

Boil palm nuts in a pot of water until they are soft enough to mash in a mortar, maybe fifteen minutes.

Step 2: Make the Pepper Mash

Mash your hot peppers, garlic, and onion in a mortar, then set your pepper mash aside.

Step 3: Parboil the Fish

Parboil your chopped fish with the pepper mash in water.

Step 4: Make the Palm Mash

Mash your softened palm nuts in the mortar. Remove the resulting mash into a bowl.

Step 5: Make the Palm Butter

Rinse the mortar with water and then pour the now orange water into your bowl of Palm mash. Squeeze the mash with your fingers for a minute to bleed the juices into the water. Then press the mash into a strainer to further squeeze out any juice. Your bowl now has dark orange palm butter. Discard the now dried mash of fibers.

Step 6: Boil the Soup

Add the palm butter to the parboiled fish and pepper mash. Boil until the soup reduces to your desired thickness.

Step 7: Eat

Serve over freshly cooked rice.

It’s my favourite local Liberian dish.

Halleluiah!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-29 00:01:00

The first session of my after-school computer classes went very well. I would celebrate with a glass of wine, if you could find it anywhere near my village.

You may not consider chaperoning fifteen students as they played on Microsoft Word for two hours much of a success, but it took the coordination of several different groups. We were allowed to hold our class at the youth center, jointly funded by the UN and Ministry of Youth and Sports, free of charge, on computers previously provided by the Ministry. I promised to teach free of charge, and without any adult help my students pooled money to pay for the gasoline to run the generator.

It was only the first of what will become a weekly class, so I first tried to gauge how much my students already knew. I learned quickly that most of them had never touched a keyboard before. They told me they most wanted to learn how to use a word processor, so I gave them a quick Microsoft Word tutorial and then gave them a printed sample to copy onto the screen. They moved slowly and made many mistakes, but that’s I think how one best learns how to use a computer. They were never frustrated, only excited. When I ended class after two hours I had to forcibly remove one girl’s hand from the keyboard because she has having so much fun typing.

There are still challenges to come. In order to conduct two hours a week for my high school students, I needed to promise the youth center that I’d hold four hours each week of general community classes. The high school students are already asking me for more class time, and they want me to be responsible for collecting the money required to run the generator. I was hoping to find a community partner to manage the finances of the class while I strictly taught, but I’m getting the sense that they don’t trust anyone else to handle their money.

This isn’t the first time my community has had computer classes. A year ago, they tell me, a man operated twice-daily classes at the same youth center but charged increasingly exorbitant monthly fees until one day he disappeared from the village with everyone’s final month’s payment.

Since I’m volunteering, I can offer classes at easily affordable rates, but the problem comes down to time. Word is spreading about the new white man who is offering cheap computer classes, and everyone wants to join. One man explained that the average villager is completely computer illiterate but that employers are asking for computer skills: they need to be able to type and to use Word and Excel. The same man claimed then that my computer classes would then be more valuable to the community than my high school science and biology classes. However, at only 6 hours per week on only 5 computers, I don’t see how I can perform the miracle they want from me. My students want to be able to type like I can without looking at the keys, and that’s not going to happen in the next few months.

I’ll never fulfill these high expectations, but the profuse “thank you’s” I’ve already received from just one unstructured class tell me it all worthwhile. Have a glass of wine for me.

Biology Lab

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-28 00:01:00

We may not have a science lab, but that didn't stop our school's 12th grade biology class from having a 5-hour lab dissection. Complete with "lab coats" and name tags and everything.

Warning, these are pictures of a dissected dog. They are graphic.

In Liberia, It’s Different

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-27 00:01:00

I had just failed 5 of my 9^th grade science students for cheating on their heat quiz, and I was feeling a little down.

I told them not to talk during the quiz! I told them over and over, and I even wrote it on the board twice. I told them not to use class notes, not to sneak in cheat sheets. I told them to keep their eyes on their own papers!

Yet there they were during the quiz, holding whole conversations with friends, blatantly staring at other people’s papers, hiding cheat sheets under their desks.

Still, I guess I should be happy. I caught half the number of students cheating today than the last quiz two weeks ago, when I failed a full 25% of the class for the same reasons. That’s a startling statistic, I know, but one needs to be a strict test-giver when there are forty students packed closely into a classroom. Maybe that’s why most teachers here don’t bother giving tests until the last day of each 6-week period.

It was 11:30am, and with the quiz over my students and I began our walks home (school wasn’t supposed to end until 2:00pm, but I was the only junior high teacher who showing up today so there was no reason for any of us to stick around).

“John!" I heard from a student behind me, “John, when do you go back to America?”

“July,” I said to the boy. His pack of friends caught up to me and we began walking together.

“Will you come back to visit us?”

“Of course.” I said.

“Don’t come back,” said a new voice behind me. I turned to see one of the boys I had just failed for hiding notes under his desk. He wasn’t angry, but he was serious.

“Why don’t you want me to come back?” I asked in a calm teacher’s voice.

“You disqualified me.”

“Were you cheating?”

He gave a culpable smirk.

“In America, students are quiet during a quiz. They don’t sneak in notes, and they don’t look at other people’s tests,” I said. My Liberian students all want to go to America so I often describe American schools as a virtuous societies where students behave perfectly, hoping it will inspire better behavior. It isn’t true, of course, but the cheating in suburban Chicago was never this bad.

“Yeah John, but In Liberia, it’s different,” He replied. He and his friends launched into a long defense of academic dishonesty. Here, we need to help each other. It’s just how school is. It’s not a big deal. Everyone does it. It doesn’t hurt anyone. They went on to tell me, with the innocuous tone of people talking about the weather, about how I’m too strict and about how I’m not behaving like a Liberian. They basically labeled me culturally insensitive.

On academic integrity, I won’t yield. I also won’t accept money or sex for good grades, which students, parents, and administrators openly admit is a common, though discouraged practice at my school. I won’t accept, either, that cheating or bribery is ordinary, harmless Liberian behavior. I like to think most of my students are honest, respectful, and hard-working; and that most teachers here are too. I also like to think that as the Liberian education system emerges from civil-war era negligence, standards of integrity will only improve. I’m starting with a firm example.

Clearly not every student likes my example. But only one student so far has told me to go back to America, whereas dozens have thank me for teaching them, for caring about them, and for coming to class. That’s why I’m not going anywhere.

Healthy Democracy

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-26 22:17:00

“As your president, I would bring dignity, integrity, and caring… I promise I will work with my opponent no matter who wins the election…I know we don’t have much money, but I will bring us growth… in Jesus’ name! We are social beings and no one can live alone. We will work together.”

It sounded like the promises of a Liberian politician running for national office. Rebuilding from fourteen years of civil war, the most common political messages, displayed on billboards, posters, and T-shirts, are growth and unity. But I wasn’t listening to any national politician. I was attending my high school’s debate for health club president.

The club is a new incarnation assembled by two ambitious new science teachers to address glaring health problems at my school, like the lack of a latrine, kitchen, or working water pump. There are also goals to bring in health professionals for educational presentations and training events.

Though initiated by teachers, the students have jumped have joined en masse; they apparently take health very seriously. They also apparently take democracy even more seriously.

A preliminary election at the club’s first meeting created a president, vice president, chaplain, secretary, treasurer, and financial assistant, whose collective job it was to operate the club while the president appointed a 6-person committee charged with running the real election two weeks later. Without any adult input, the committee drew up official rules and was now hosting this presidential debate.

It was interesting how infrequently the two competing candidates used the words “health” or addressed health issues. They mostly talked about how, with God’s help, they’d work hard and with dignity to bring growth and results. They promised repeatedly to work with their opponent no matter who won or lost. Such grandstanding was exactly what the audience wanted to hear; the other students clapped for the candidates’ speeches and then asked redundant questions about how well the candidates could cooperate with others and inspire unity. My question, “What do you see as the school’s most pressing health issues?” was answered with something about “strength through togetherness”.

For three weeks, the club has focused strictly on the election. The students wouldn’t dare to push forward to solving our health problems without first having a properly elected leading body in place. It is spectacular. Liberia’s most recent elections were fair, open, and peaceful, but the history over previous decades was much different. If my students represent the national zeitgeist, then democracy will certainly have a bright future in Liberia.

Brazenness and Burglery

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga MK Squared

2012-02-26 07:43:00

This week was a sad week for us. One day, between 7:30 and 10:30pm, our laptops, hard drive, and Mark's work bag with its contents were stolen from our gated, locked, lighted, security-screened house. Within about an hour, the Tongan police were there, and it was the first time a detective and forensics officer have ever investigated any occurance related to us.

After everything was done, what was there to do but read?

There's not much likelihood that our things will be returned to us, but we do hold out hope that we might get at least one item back. The increase in crime has been a frequent subject of conversation among the general public this past year, and everyone attributes it to some cause, real or imagined. I'm not sure what it is, but almost everyone we know, Tongan and foreign alike, have gotten their house burgled at some point or another. Foreigners are an even more frequent target because of the assumption - often correct- that their houses are more likely to have laptops and electronics hidden away somewhere.

And of course, everyone has a story. Someone was telling me the other day about a Tongan family who (like many Tongan families) has two houses. Usually, one house is the boys' house, and the other is the nice family house. One Sunday, the family was all resting in the family house, when someone heard a noise, and went to the other house to investigate. It was theives, who when they heard, immediately ran off to a get-away vehicle. Fearing the worst, the family went over to count their losses. The house was cleaned out- laptops gone, stereo gone, and worst of all, all their fine mats and tapa, worth thousands of dollars. They were devastated- until they went to the outhouse out back. To their surprise, amusement, and releif, they found all their stuff, stacked on the toilet! The theives' greed had got the best of them, and they'd been intending to return with a bigger vehicle. Too bad we didn't have an outhouse to check.

Fixing the break-in

I expected to feel horrible about the whole thing- which both of us did. We're devastated at the loss of our laptops- mine which I'd kept in good condition for almost five years, and had lasted me through graduate school and two years in humid, buggy Tonga. We're worried about how we'll afford to replace things. We're incredulous at the brazen courage of the theives to enter our relatively well-protected, gated compound, and now we jump at every sound outside.

But what I didn't expect to feel was incredible greatfulness. I woke up this morning to cool breezes and the sun shining in the window, hearing echoes of Sunday sunrise service singing, and felt lucky- that we're alive and well, that both of us are together. I feel lucky that those items were the only thing they took. I feel greatful for the support of our landlords, who got the broken window fixed, double-reinforced, and extra-lighted within hours of the next day dawning. For the friends who have supported us (and we haven't even told everyone yet, for the sheer emotional exhaustion of having to explain the whole thing over again). I feel lucky that we have food in the kitchen, fans to keep us cool, books to read, and people to talk to. Who knew that something like this would have made me feel greatful for everything else in life.

2012: the year of surprises!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Toki Sio America! ...I'll see you later!

2012-02-26 01:28:00

In my last post I mentioned just how much I enjoy the day-to-day surprises that make Peace Corps the unique experience that it surely is. I am happy to report that [re: surprises] 2012 is most certainly not going to disappoint!

Surprises thus far:

ü Darkness: I arrived back at my little fale [house] in January to find that my electricity had been disconnected. Oiaue! [Yikes!] No sweat. This just meant a week of lots of ‘community integration’ and reading by candle light. Fyi: showering by candle light is tricky.

ü Mice: I was also received at my humble abode by the colony of mice that have taken up residence. …alright, that might be a bit melodramatic, but there are definitely some kumā [mice] that are frequenting my house. I feel a bit like the neighborhood wacko jumping around with my broom chasing them away. There are multiple plans in the works to drive them away…so far they’ve outsmarted me. I’ll keep you updated.

ü Cyclones!: What was supposed to be day 1 of school turned out to be our first cyclone of the season. Luckily, it was pretty small as cyclones go. Lots of banana trees were blown over, but most houses didn’t sustain much damage. We did, however, lose power for three days. I have pretty much depleted my candle supply at this point.

Bugs: Despite hiding all my food within supposedly airtight ziploc bags, creatures managed to creep on in to my oatmeal supply. On a recent morning, I was gazing sleepily into my bowl of oats only to be greeted by little black creepy crawlies enjoying their own breakfast. Oiaue! [I'm used to eating an occasional ant, but these unidentified intruders are not part of my diet plan. Right now, it is summertime here and the weather seems to be encouraging ridiculous bug populations. I think I share my house with about 50 unique species of ants and a constant parade of cockroaches!!!

That’s it for surprises thus far…. I am fairly certain there will be more to come!

Over and out.

Reduce Reuse Recycle

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-25 00:01:00

My mosquito net was up, my home and Tonga photos were posted, my clothes were hung on hangers, my kitchen supplies were arranged on the floor, and I had full buckets of fresh water. It was a busy first day at site and I was so close to being settled in. There was just one question I needed to ask.

“Charles, where do I put all this packing trash?” I asked my helper high school student.

“What?”

“My trash. Where do I put it?”

Confused, he stared back for a moment before answering “outside” as though the answer was obvious.

“Yeah, I know. But where outside?”

Charles looked frustrated. He grabbed my trash pile, carried it out my back door, and dropped it into the trench behind my house. “Here,” he said.

“Here? I should just dump my trash here? Should I burn it?”

I was annoying him. “The rains will take it away.”

The rains! My entire village is carved with snaking trenches – canyons may be more appropriate – that in the dry season do little more than collect plastic trash. They are constant reminders, though, of how awesome the rainy season will be. The dry canyons will become roaring rivers that will carry away the trash.

But the rainy season was more than two months away. Would my disgusting trash be accumulating here, waiting for months for all my neighbors to see? No, as I learned within hours. No it would not.

Later that afternoon I found kids playing with my broken plastic stove knobs that were supposed to be at the bottom of the trench. When I returned curiously to the trench, my trash was gone.

My Liberian neighbors take reduce, reduce, recycle to the poverty-induced extreme. All trash that can be at all useful or played with is scavenged by little children. It makes me think twice about throwing away what could be eaten used by my neighbors. They’ll eat my pineapple scraps (the spiny outer shavings) and they’ll turn any plastic bottle into a cup. One boy turned the toilet paper role I saved for him into a musical instrument.

Their resourcefulness is growing on me. Last week a different boy followed me to my trench to watch me dump garbage, and when he saw my red California raisin box fall out he asked politely to have it. The amusing part is not that he wanted my raisin box, but that just minutes earlier I too had wondered if I could have recycled that box. I don’t give out plastic bottles anymore because I use them as cups myself (I continue to drink every day out of a old bottle Smart Water I purchased at Atlanta International Airport). My exercise mat is a flattened cardboard box. I save my plastic peanut butter containers.

I’d like to say I’ve become more environmentally conscious, but that’s really not it at all. I’m poor, and money I save on plastic bottles and small containers can be spent on gasoline to power my computer and phone cards to get online. Hopefully I’ll take the habit back to the States with me. You’ll know if you ever see me drinking from a scrappy-looking bottle of Smart Water.

Sunrise Surprise

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-24 00:01:00

Water pumping, sandals dragging on concrete, a door creaking, water pumping, knocking, footsteps, a broom brushing sand, water pumping.

My brain slowly becomes aware of the music of the morning. The hand-operated water pump provides the steady base beat (and will work continuously until it is shut off at noon), the brooms and sandals provide the cymbals and high hat. No words need be spoken during my neighbors’ morning rituals, so the song is usually instrumental. It’s not exactly soothing, but it beats the cacophony of an alarm clock.

My eyes are useless; the room’s lone window is a faint gray square that illuminates nothing. My hands feel beside my head, under my pillow, and finally find my phone pinned underneath my hip; it has once again slipped during the night into the permanent body-dip in my foam mattress. The backlight hurts my eyes but shows me time: 6:30. Time to get up.

I sit up, move the mosquito net behind me, and use the phone to find my headlamp. With a click I can see the whole room.

The blare of Nigerian pop music suddenly assault my ears, alerting me that my neighbors from across the road are awake too. While it’s nice that they often play music and radio programs in the evenings loud enough for the whole area to hear, I wish they would give their sound system a break in the morning. But at least today they waiting this long to turn it on. I’m often not so lucky.

With my headlamp on, I commence my morning routine: putting on shorts, opening my front door, visiting the toilet, boiling water, making tea, filling my thermos to have hot water throughout the day, and eating a banana with oatmeal and milk powder. The room is still dark as dusk, but the sun is coming. With my Teavana mug in hand, I move to my front doorway to watch the slow illumination of the village road and gradual accumulation of pedestrians. It all happened just like any other morning.

But instead of ladies carrying buckets to the well, kids playing with tires, and men pushing wheelbarrows, I saw an intimidating police squad trekking down the road. They were wearing face shields and body armor and wielding firm black batons.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon that my students told me the news. A police team from the capital made a raid on our village, arresting fifteen people for stealing rubber and dealing drugs. My “personal trainer” was among those caught.

When asked how the police knew about the rubber thievery and the drug dealing, my students referenced a network of spies living amongst us paid by the rubber company to report crimes. They call these spies the “CIA.”

Rubber is extremely easy to steal, as it collects for days in cups wired to the rubber trees on the plantation and anyone could empty the cups into their own. They apparently then sold the rubber back to the same company they stole it from, claiming easily that it had come from rubber trees in the jungle. The drug dealing was not directly connected to the rubber stealing, except that the same people were apparently committing both crimes. How the “CIA” discovered the scheme or identified the criminals, no one knows exactly, but I do know that the air around my weight lifting “gym” just got a lot less hazy.

SuperCut

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-23 20:31:00

Trying to ignore the indiscriminate pecking at my head, I kept my eyes fixated on the wooden-plank floor. Cardboard sheets, plugging holes almost large enough to slip a foot through, slowly collected my falling hair. Medium-brown, wavy, and centimeters long, it stood out from a mat of short, curly, jet-black trimmings. I wonder if he’s ever cut a white person’s hair before.

My 20-year-old barber began a jovial conversation with a group of shadows crowding the entrance to our small shack, but the pecking continued. Tilting my head up, I could see that Michael wasn’t even watching my head. His scissors continued clipping randomly while he joked with his friends.

Looking straight into the mirror, I saw a face I hadn’t seen in three and a half weeks. He was smiling slightly, and would have been shaking his head in despair if he wasn’t concerned about the scissors.

“My life is ridiculous," he said silently.

“I know," I replied in kind, "At least it’s just hair.”

"Unless he nicks my ear."

"He won't."
"I know."

“I miss Kelly.”

“I know.”

I was never discerning about my hairstyle before. In Chicago I would go to Kelly, my friend and professional stylist, and tell her just to do her thing. I even let her practice on my while she was still in cosmetology school. But while Kelly always worked with the care, precision, and confidence of an artist, Michael worked with the attitude of a high school student during a fundraising car wash – have fun and just look like your trying.

The shadows left and without anything to talk about Michael returned his eyes to my hair. He stopped clipping. “How’s that?”

“Great. Perfect. Let’s stop there,” I said.

Instead of brushing off my shoulders and removing my cape, as I expected, Michael picked up a razor blade.

Scissors are to Kelly what razor blades are to Michael. Most men here cut their hair using a razor blade pressed against a comb that they rub against their scalp. Many do it just themselves. It is an easy haircut, it looks good, it’s hygienic (lice won't live in short hair), and it’s easy to maintain. I even thought about letting Michael do it to me. Though his master tool, however, it made me nervous and I thought my freshly shaved scalp would sunburn. Michael used scissors on me instead, and I got the impression he rarely uses them on anyone else.

So then why was there a razor blade in his hand?

He moved behind me and pressed my head forward. I felt him press his fresh blade at a slight angle against my neck begin shaving me. Creating a nice line, he then moved to my brow and shaved me a boxy forehead, as is the style here. He offered to remove my beard too, but I declined – my Gillette razor could handle that. As uncomfortable as Michael’s method made me, I was fascinated. A cheap straight razor blade isn’t that much different from my expensive Gillette razor, but I had never imagined shaving that way, and without shaving cream.

“All done,” he said to me, looking with approval at my new cut. In the mirror I saw asymmetrical tufts of hair capping a crooked hairline. It was good enough for me.

I paid my 70 US cents, thanked him, went home, and took a bucket bath. This look will work for my village, but I might need to get this touched up when I visit the capital. Next time I might just do as the locals do -- take a razor blade to a comb and run it over my scalp.

Using his razor blade against my forehead

The Food Center

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-22 00:01:00

It’s hard to beat 70 US cents for a big bowl of rice, a ladleful of a sweet and spicy sauce, either a small fried fish or hard-boiled egg, and a cup of clean cold water; so for the past three days after school I’ve stopped by Pastor Henry’s place-where-you-can-pay-to-sit-and-enjoy-a-filling-meal. Calling it a restaurant is too generous – the proprietor himself labels it a “Food Center.”

There is no menu, there are no options, and the food has been the same every day. As there is no refrigeration, I have no idea how long the food sits before I eat it; I try not to ask too many questions, but I really hope the food is at least cooked. There haven’t been any digestive emergencies yet, so I’ll keep going back. I like talking to Pastor Henry, who sits across the “kitchen” from his perch at his “pharmacy,” which sells dust-covered boxes of all sorts of drugs in all sorts of languages. He hopes to study theology in America.

When I arrive, climbing up his steep front stoop, Pastor Henry calls to a young girl who is either wandering outside or sleeping on a cot next to the food pots. She smilingly ladles food into a clean bowl, and hands it to me with a small, cold, factory-packaged plastic bag of water (the cheapest way to buy safe water). Their cats like to watch me eat from atop the table next to me, and sometimes they startle me when they jump to the ground. The first time I ate there, they only had one spoon, so the next customer, of which there are never many, had to wait for me to finish. The girl then took my spoon, dunked it in a bucket of water, wiped it with a towel, and handed it to him.

I’ll probably be back tomorrow.

The food sits in bins next to where the girl is standing (her cot is behind that wall in the back). The pharmacy is behind her.

John Has a Jew!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-21 00:01:00

The Navy Pier Ferris Wheel.

Mouseclick.

Grant Park and the Chicago skyline from the Shedd Aquarium steps.

Mouseclick.

The Trump Tower at night towering over the Chicago River.

Mouseclick.

Evening skating at Millennium park, Christmas lights lining Michigan avenue.

“What’s that?” My students ask me. A few of them had followed me home to see pictures of Chicago. They had heard about the Chicago Bulls and wanted to see what the city was all about. The tall buildings and parks were interesting, but it was ice skating that finally got them talking.

“The floor is all ice. People where special shoes to move across it.”

“Is it a game?” a nineteen-year-old male asks.

“Not really a game, it’s something fun people like to do.” I wasn’t explaining it well, but I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to without a sheet of ice and some skates to demonstrate.

Mouseclick.

My friend Karen and I posing in front of Monroe Harbor, with the Adler Planetarium in the background.

“John has a jew!” yelled Vanessa behind me. “John has a jew!”

Karen is not, nor ever has been Jewish. She and I were posing so closely together that my students thought she was my girlfriend, or in local vernacular, my jewel. They pronounce it much closer to “jew.”

Karen is not, nor ever was my jew, her current husband (and at the time of the photo, fiancée) would be happy to know. And with the way things are developing here, John won’t be having a jew for quite some time.

Bring-A-Cockroach-To-School Day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-20 00:01:00

Can you tell the difference between a male and female cockroach? My 10^th grade biology students can. They just got up close and personal with some live specimens. It was Bring-A-Cockroach-To-School Day.

The Liberian National Curriculum calls for five weeks of instruction on nothing but arthropods, the animal phylum that includes crustaceans, arachnids, and, most importantly, insects. Rural Liberians encounter insects much more often than I ever did growing up, and insects here are potentially life threatening. Mosquitoes carry yellow fever, elephantitis, and malaria. Weevils inhabit the rice they eat daily. Pests destroy fields. Spiders and centipedes bite.

It makes the cockroach seem harmless in comparison, but they can be harmful too.

“We touch them, we play with them, we let them crawl on our food,” mused Kevin, one of our Ghanan UN teacher-soldiers, “but most people don’t know that they can carry diseases too. Like leprosy.”

Cockroaches are important study subjects for Liberian students, and they are conveniently available. Though I haven’t yet awoken to them on my face (as happened several times in Tonga), they are a nightly occurrence in my home. They're so mundane that students aren’t afraid to scoop them in a bag and bring them for a class dissection. Our class ended up with six specimens, two still living.

In groups, they drew ventral pictures of their cockroaches, labeled the important features (head, antennae, prothorax, mesothorax, metathorax, abdomen, wings, legs, cerci, anal styles, and spiracles), and identified the sex. I bet you couldn’t do that. I also bet you’re perfectly fine with that.

Sun and Sports

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga Tidbits from Tonga

2012-02-18 23:51:00

This week was the inter-house sports competition at Mailefihi. The students and teachers are divided into 4 houses for competitions throughout the year, including this one; I am a part of #3 this school year. On Thursday and Friday of this week, the students competed in track and field events. My favorite events to watch were javelin and the 400m relay. Javelin is entertaining because Tongan boys are really, really good at it. They can throw so far! I like the relay because they are really, really bad at it. I didn't see a single good hand-off. There were some really talented athletes, and I'm sure the students will do great at the inter-school competition in March. Go blue!

Hawkeye

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tonga John Outside the Lines

2012-02-19 00:01:00

One of my responsibilities as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer is to assess my high school to determine if full 2-year PCVs should replace me: What are the school’s challenges? How is it run? What is the school’s long term plan?

I was sitting with the PTA chairman’s wife, let’s call her Hawkeye, on a low wicker chair on her front porch, and my first assessment interview was not bringing helpful answers.

“What are the school’s biggest challenges?” The children’s education.

“How often does the PTA meet?” Often.

“Does the school have a goal or long term plan?” Yes, to produce tomorrow’s leaders by focusing on education.

It was a good thing I had 5 months to write my report.

Thus far unsuccessful, I welcomed the interruption of a sternly curious rooster. He hopped onto the porch and moved to size up this strange large white creature that had invaded his territory, coming so close I could have swatted him with my hand. Seeing no threat, he strutted back to the yard. Tongan chickens had much more fear of people.

Returning to Hawkeye, I changed topics to the youth-oriented family planning center where she worked as a nurse.

How busy is it? We can see a handful of people every day because there are only few nurses. Unfortunately wey often have to turn people away to respect the confidentiality of those currently being helped.

What are the main reasons people come to your clinic? To ask about birth control and to get tested for STIs.

What are the most prevalent STIs around here? HIV and Chlamydia.

Are the youth ever ashamed or afraid to come to the clinic? NO! Lots of people come and no one cares. People think it’s a good thing to get tested.

Are Liberians open about talking about sex? Yes, very open. It’s so important to be informed about sex here that people aren’t ashamed to talk about it.

What a different culture from Tonga, where people wouldn’t talk about it, people didn’t know about it, and people were afraid to get help about it. This part of the conversation was very satisfying.

Hawkeye took her eyes off me and peered intently into the sky. Then panic broke. She screamed words in Bassa that I couldn’t understand, and two of her young children scrambled out of the house and quickly collected stones.

“A hawk,” she said in distress. “They snatch our chickens.”

Leaning my head from under the roof, I saw a hawk gliding just forty feet off the ground. It saw the rocks and then soared away. In Liberia chickens have worse things to worry about than strange white men.