My
Tongan host dad, Puli, came home from work one day carrying an unwieldy burden
of food. Sapa sui (chop suey), lu sipi (sheep meat baked in taro leaves), moa fakapaku (fried chicken), and a small puaka tunu (roasted pig), among other tinfoil-wrapped food items
piled one on top of the other, were precariously balanced in his arms.
It
was the end of the first day of the Class 6 sivi (final exam) at GPS Tokomololo, the government primary school
he works at as a teacher. The sivi is
one of the most important exams that Tongan students take in their academic
career. It determines what school they qualify to attend for Forms 1-7, which
equate similarly to the high school level and the first couple of years of
college credit in the U.S. education system.
To
celebrate the end of a full year of preparation for the exam and to thank the
teachers for all of their work, the communities that feed into the primary
schools give each of the Class 6 teachers a kato—a
traditional Tongan basket woven from palm leaves—filled with exorbitant amounts
of food to take home to their families every day after administering the exam.
Viewing
it as an opportunity to practice my vocabulary from the “Food” unit we’d just
covered in my language class, I enthusiastically thanked Puli for bringing home
all of the delicious foodies.
“Mãlõ e ha’u mo e kota!” I awkwardly pieced
together. Thank you for coming with the basket
full of food.
At
least, that’s what I thought I was saying.
My
host sister, Sioa, gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. My host brother,
Inu, stopped shoveling handfuls of curry chicken into his mouth and stared at
me. Puli just walked away.
Then
Sioa and Inu burst out laughing.
“You
swore!” they hissed at me.
They
refused to tell me what I’d said, so I asked Taua at language class the next
morning.
Thank you for coming with the food?
No.
Not even close.
Thank you for coming with the uncircumcised
boy.
Kato and kota definitely do not mean the same thing in Tongan. Somebody
should have warned me.
To
the great amusement of our Tongan Peace Corps staff, not a single one of the
PCTs in our group have escaped making a grievous language error. Some have been
harmless. Some have proven fatal.
Taua
seems to have made it his personal goal to teach our language group all of the kapekape (Tongan swear words—not always
the same as in English) that he can. He says we need to know in case our
students cuss at us, thinking we won’t know what they’re saying. Really, he’s
just angakovi (badly behaved, or
mischievous).
He
regularly incorporates kapekape into our
language instruction, using them in sample sentences to highlight various
grammar points. Maybe it’s unconventional, but it seems to work for us.
Taua adding a dirty spin to a casual game of Hangman during morning language class. |
Here’s
a list of some of the good (but, mostly bad) kapekape that Group 79 PCTs have accidentally come across:
1)
‘Usi – a**hole.
Dangerously close to ‘osi, which
means “finished,” or “done,” and is used quite frequently in Tonga to declare
the end of a presentation or speech etc.
2)
Potu –
penis. Again, dangerously close to poto,
which means smart or clever; quick to learn.
3)
Fie’uli –
horny; literally translates to “to want the dirty.” Fie’uli is very different from faka’uli,
which means “to drive.”
4)
Huhu –
If you say ‘eku huhu, it means “my
fork.” If you say hoku huhu, it means
“my boob.”
5)
Ta’e –
When used before a word it is the equivalent to “less,” or “without,” (e.g. “careless”
or “without care”). When not used before another word, it means sh*t.
6)
Fai – Most
of the time it means “do,” as in “what did you do this weekend?” Other times it
means “to f*ck.”
7)
Tepilo is
“to fart.” Tepile is table.
8)
‘Ono’ono –
to moon someone; a.k.a. to drop trough and show someone your pale booty
view. Ono ono is the word for the
number 66. Distinguishing the difference in pronunciation is a matter of
finesse.
9)
One of the other PCTs called her host mom po, or “toilet bowl,” for the first
three weeks of training. Her name is Pou,
a very common nickname for Tupou in
Tonga.
10)
I repeated the word fulu in Taua’s ear literally seven times until he laughingly begged
me to stop saying that. I was trying to tell him that I was “washing the
dishes,” or fufulu ipu. Fulu is not fufulu. Fulu is “pubic hair.”
My Tongan language class. From left to right: Me, Taua, Renee, Carrie Lee, and Hame. |
This is hillarious.Good luck and ofa atu.My Mom was a host Mom and loved every second of it.Her house was always full with palangi pisikoa everytime i call her.
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