Squashed between two people in the middle seat of my row for the duration of the 12-hour international flight my thoughts flitted from considerations of dropping out of the Peace Corps before my service even began to launch a campaign for Equal-Opportunity Leg-Room and Armrests For All, to lamenting the next 27 months I would go without digging into a burrito bowl from Chipotle or hitting Don’s at 4 a.m. to be first in line for their breakfast special, to replaying all of the goodbye scenes I’d had with friends and family from the past couple of weeks, and as far back as several months, over and over again in my head:
Clinging
to each friend as one by one they left Miami to go home for the summer, or on
to grad school or new jobs in different cities.
Sobbing
drunkenly on the hood of a car as one of my best friends wall-twerked on me
before she started her drive home in the morning.
Sitting
at the kitchen table in my empty house, face in my hands, as I listened to my
goodbye card read aloud.
Zigzagging
up the East Coast in my car, making stops to visit with people along the way.
A
quick embrace and a forcedly casual “see you later” in the Las Vegas airport.
Awkward
conversation, shifting feet, and unwelcome tears before reluctantly leaving to finish
the final leg of the out-west road trip, alone.
The
strained, tense look on my dad’s face as I climbed out of the car.
The
Last Breakfast—a stack of pumpkin pancakes, topped off with a side of what
might be the world’s best bacon—that led up to what might have been the world’s
most epic group hug on the sidewalk outside.
When
Lent came around this year, six months into my service, I tried to stop
thinking of things in terms of what have
I given up, and consciously started thinking of things in terms of look what I have gained.
It
was my goal not to obsess over the things I was missing, but to savor the
little things that make life in Tonga a little sweeter. For forty days, I
focused on finding my happy place:
Day #1: The Bountiful Bucket Bath
It
finally rained. A drenching rain. A rain that left the newly plowed fields
marshy, and filled my sima vai enough
to supply a steady stream of water, not the trickle that my neighbors and I had
relied on for weeks of drought to fill buckets for all of our basic hygienic
and household needs.
I
splurged.
The
water was still cool from the fresh rain, not yet warmed by the sun. I
abandoned my usual careful conservation of the water, and instead of using as
few mugs-full as possible to wash and rinse my body, I poured the bucket over
my head; slowly, relishing in the way it washed over my face and through my
hair, cooling my skin as it ran in rivulets to the floor.
Day #2: The Mint Chocolate Chip Meet-Up
“The
market has mint chocolate chip ice cream,” Bailey urgently texted us one day.
We
all made our way from our villages, biking, suto-ing
or walking the miles into town to meet up together at the ‘Ohonua market, order
double-scoops and sit on the wooden benches happily licking the bright green
ice cream from our cones practically without a word.
We
finished, then we each hopped on our bikes and headed in different directions
to begin the trek home.
Day #3: Morning Sun Runs
Men
walk past me, tools in hand, hats on their heads, off to the bush to start the
day’s work before the sun gets too hot. The animals have started to wake up,
roosters crow, and pigs heavily lift themselves onto their feet to begin
rooting around in the bushes and establishing their command of the road.
I
run past them all just as the first rays of the sunrise begin to glow on the
undersides of the clouds.
Day#4: Tau Lova?
Riding
my bike on the main road, I came up alongside a couple of my students also on
bikes. I looked sideways at ‘Eliesa and said, “tau lova? Wanna race?”
He
flashed a smile and I took off pedaling as fast as I could, dodging potholes
and sending the pigs squealing off down dirt paths or into the bushes. ‘Eliesa
and Sepasitiano pedaled after me, shouting as they fought to catch up. I
reached the gate to our school first, fist raised to the sky in triumph.
Day #5: Where There’re Church Bells, There’re Tongans
‘Ana
calls out to me from her front porch as I walk by on my way to church.
“Tali mai!” she says, “wait for me!”
 |
| Ana and Tevita posing outside of Kina's house. |
She
disappears for a moment inside then comes back out, stepping into a pair of
cheap children’s leopard print wedges. She looks up at me, beams, slips her
hand into mine and then we continue hand-in-hand to the Free Wesleyan church in
our village for the mid-morning service.
Day #6: Kai ‘Umu
We
all lay about Tina’s living room, lounging on mats on the floor or on couch
cushions, waiting for the ‘umu to be
done. Tina and Siale tell me about their business selling handicrafts and
sandalwood abroad. She proudly shows me pictures of intricately made kiekie and decorative ta’ovala that are popular among
different Tongan families she knows living in Hawaii and New Zealand.
 |
| The girls making the haka at Tina's while we wait to eat. |
When
the food is ready, the kids sit together around the kitchen table, dishing out
chunks of kape and foil-wrapped
servings of lu.
“Tau kai leva,” they say. “Let’s eat.”
Day #7: Suto Ki Ai
Hitch-hiking
in The Friendly Islands, is just that: friendly. None of the negative or scary
connotations apply. The rough-looking man with several missing or gold teeth
hanging out the window offering you a ride and maybe even some pickings from a
sleeve of cookies from the local falekoloa,
is actually legit. He’s not trying to subdue your natural fight-or-flight
instincts with the temptation of chocolaty delight, only to snatch you up as a
victim of devious intent.
 |
| My view suto-ing in the back of a fish truck. |
He
genuinely thinks you could use a ride as far as he is going, and could go for
some cookies while you’re at it. Because who could ever pass up an opportunity
to kai lelei?
Walking
along the side of the dirt and gravel roads in ‘Eua you’re bound to get offered
a ride, and chances are that even though you may not know them yet—“yet” being
the key word—they most likely know you. If you’re a palangi fresh off the ‘Onemato,
or a volunteer who’s lived here for months, news of your presence has most
likely preceded you. And, like the horse that was born without a tail, you’ll
probably be the talk of the town, at least until the next newsworthy incident
comes around.
Day #8: Tau kalasi?!
At
the high school where I work, there is a schedule. Although that term is very loosely defined, there is still a
general predictability as to when I will have class with my different level
Form students. The schedule is posted on the wall in each of the classrooms too
for them to refer to in case they do forget, which I can assure you does not
happen.
That
doesn’t stop my students from asking me before every period, after every
period, at every break in between every period, and sometimes even during periods,
“tau kalasi?” Do we have class now?
I
don’t know why—because sometimes I honestly think they’d be better off without
me here—but they really do seem excited to be in my class. They beg me for põ ako, night school. Maybe it’s because
there’s not much else going on. Maybe it’s because they get to see their
friends and not do chores around the house or work in the bush for a couple of hours
during the day. Whatever it is, school seems like it’s their happy place.
Day #9: Toli Guava
I
followed last in line behind a troupe of my neighbors’ kids of various ages. We
jumped the fence into the vao and
they set off in different directions to collect a bunch of not-quite ripe guavas,
because that’s the kind that doesn’t have worms.
 |
| One of the guavas from our trip to the woods. |
Their
methods varied. The youngest inspected the fallen fruit on the ground and
scooped up the good ones, using their shirts as makeshift sacks to carry them. The
older ones wielded sticks and set about knocking them from the branches. The
most agile jumped to grab the lowest hanging limbs and swung their bodies
around to shimmy up the trunks, their bare feet finding invisible footholds to
leverage their weight. What little I contributed was generously rewarded with
handfuls of hard green fruits presented to me enthusiastically by several pairs
of sticky brown fingers.
Day #10: Sibling Skype Session (Meeting of the Mindless)
Conzy
and Bub made the trip down to see Nikki in Virginia for their spring break.
They made the time to Skype me in for an hour or two. It felt almost as if I was
right there will them. Counting down the holiday breaks until I actually can
be.
Day #11: Being Put to Work
The
night leading up to Sports Day at ‘Eua High School—the other secondary school
on ‘Eua, and thus our rivals—the Hofangahau women stayed up the entire night
making preparations for the next day’s events. In Tongan tradition, the most
important thing was the food.
They divvied up the responsibilities: we were to
provide the breakfast and tea plates, and they would cover lunch.
 |
| Linili and Mia repping Hofangahau at Sports Day. |
We
baked cakes, chopped vegetables, flipped Tongan pancakes, spread butter on
bread and squeezed kola until the
early hours of the morning. As usual they peer-pressured me to taste-test
everything, but they also actually let me help.
Day #12: ‘Oku Vale Aupito ‘Eku Lãlanga
I
had a crowd. The men and boys circled around, looking on as Luseane and Kina, occasionally
less-than-patiently, oversaw my very deliberate technique for making my own ta’ovala. My progress was slow, and one
or the other would often follow right behind me correcting my wobbly handiwork.
They
teased me and I good-naturedly lashed out at their jabs. Luseane and Kina just
smiled and kept urging me on. I like to think there was something of pride somewhere
in their amused expressions.
 |
| Kina and I during my first weaving lesson. |
Day #13: The Golden Hour
There’s
that moment, an hour or so right before sunset, where the sun tinges everything
gold.
I
sometimes ride my bike toward town at that time, on my way to Bailey’s. If I
look to my right, there’s a break in the houses and abundant gardens, and I can
see clearly to the mountains leading to the other side of the island. They’re
glowing; burnished that same rich hue.
Day #14: Library Interrogation
A
chubby Tongan boy followed me around the library at Ha’atu’a G.P.S. as I worked
on organizing books onto the newly constructed shelves. As I arranged books
into reading levels, he bombarded me with an endless stream of questions,
barely processing my answers before spitting out the next one.
His
line of questioning made me laugh in bursts, and then think a lot about how his
life has already been so different from that of his cousins just from being
raised overseas. He made several comments contrasting his school back home to
the primary school here.
“Where
can I get water?” he asked. I pointed to the sima vai outside.
“How
do I drink from it?” I indicated his hands. He raised his eyebrows.
“At
my school in New Zealand we have water fountains,” he said as he grabbed an
empty water bottle from the table and waddled over to the tank, squatting down
to fill it up.
Day #15: Kaukau ‘Uha
“KauKau ‘uha!” The little girls from next
door screeched as they sprinted outside into pouring rain, “Rain shower!”
I
took off after them.
We
stood huddled under the torrent of water running off the roof, fully clothed,
gasping at the chill. There was a stream forming in the slope of the road. We
tuned our shoes into boats, fed them into the stream and chased after them in
our bare feet, shouting “Vaka! Vaka!”
We headed to the main road. The potholes made a maze of puddles down the
street, which we ran and jumped in, splashing everyone within range.
Day #16: Tasting Tava
I
sat next to Kina on a mat on the ground outside my neighbor Luseane’s house,
flies buzzing around our feet. Afu, Luseane’s husband, hoisted his four-year
old son onto the tin roof of their outdoor kitchen to collect the tava fruit that Niutoni threw down from
the tree above.
Tevita
shrieked with laughter as Niutoni chucked the fruit down at us. We peeled their
green skin to reveal the whitish flesh inside—a similar look and taste to
lychees from Hawaii—then dug out the seed from the center and popped the whole
thing into our mouths.
Day #17: Craving Tongan Food
I
was craving lu one day in the middle
of the week, a traditional Tongan dish usually reserved for Sundays. Just as it
turned dark, Mia sent her kids over to bring me a plate of food for dinner: lu sipi.
Day #18: Fangatave Hike
 |
| Aisea and Sala teaching Bailey how to crack open a coconut at Fangatave. |
 |
| Sammy climbing down the rocks on the way to Fangatave. |
Sweating
from the hike, we toss our packs to the ground and run toward the water, diving
in if the tide is high enough. The guys set about building a fire, while we
settle into the sand and watch. The spread is chicken and hot dogs roasted
expertly on an makeshift spit.
 |
| Aisea climbing a coconut tree at Fangatave. |
We
start out on the beach, making our way to the caves when it starts to drizzle,
rebuilding the fire under cover.
In
the morning, the fire is burning low, and the sun is just beginning to peak
over the horizon. We sit side by side on the beach and watch as it rises
directly in front of us, huge and burning bright yellow.
 |
| Bailey and Corinne by the caves at Fangatave. |
Day #19: Sunset Runs
Running
down the main road at sunset, the sky painted vibrant oranges and pinks, I pass
kids loitering at the falekoloa
waiting for their mothers to finish their shopping and gossip. Men are coming
back from the bush, walking or riding in truck beds. Students from my classes join
me and I’ll challenge them to a race. They keep chase for 50 yards or so then
stop, calling out to me “Samenta eyy!” as I keep on running, zigzagging between
the potholes as I go.
Day #20: Happy Long Life
Ane
invited me to her adopted son’s birthday party at their house one night. It was
a small party, just a couple of the neighborhood kids, her and her husband and
two of their close friends. She stood up to make a fakamãlõ speech to thank everyone for coming and to give her
birthday wishes. During her speech she turned to me and told me that I was
family now.
Day #21: Kaukautahi
Two
of the PCVs from Tongatapu came to ‘Eua one weekend to visit. We went to the
beach one day for a cookout and some kaukautahi.
There was a spot past the shallows, where the reef dropped off. We waded to the
edge and leaped off the rocks into the deep blue, open water. For an hour we
hung out there, drifting out from the reef further into the ocean, talking as
we tread water and floated on the waves.
Day #22: Vai Siaine…Mãlõ Sisu
There’s
a dessert in Tonga that will absolutely be coming home with me. Fruit wrapped
in foil—papaya or different kinds of bananas— then soaked in coconut milk, and
baked in the ‘umu. I tasted it for
the first time at Kina’s house one Sunday after church. We sat on their porch,
and I ate serving after serving, way past the point of being full and completely
disregarding the fact that I was doing damage to the roof of my mouth from
swallowing the chunks of burning pata
fresh out of the oven.
Day #23: ‘Aho ‘Uha
We
got a rain day at the G.P.S. once. No school because of the risk of the
children getting sick and the water being contaminated. Heavy rainfall stirs up
mud into the pipes, making the water run brown and unsafe to drink.
 |
| A group of the Ha'atu'a GPS Class 6 girls helping me with the library. |
I
went to the school, plugged in my headphones and got to work building the
school library. Some students who had come to school anyway joined me, even
though they had the day off, and helped me to move stacks of organized books to
their proper places on the shelves.
Day #24: Hulita’s Front
Porch
It
was dark out, the lights were on and a dozen of us, kids and adults, were sprawled
out on the mats on Hulita’s front porch. While they gossiped, I zoned-out,
listening to the night sounds: pigs rooting around for scraps from their
earlier meal; laughter coming from the street as people made their way home
from the mãketi; dogs barking, the
lingering smell of smoke from the day’s rubbish fires drifting along the wind,
a pair of headlights breaking through the night as the rare car bumped along
the main road.
Day #25: Niu Mata
Ane
and I sat on the stone fence by the school just talking as we sipped slowly
from green coconuts, and shared a bag of Twisties.
Day #26: Comfort Food
Bailey
dipped the onions in batter and plopped them into the oil, quickly jerking back
her hand to avoid the splash. When they were done frying, piled high on a
family-sized serving dish, we sat in a circle on the mats. Sammy contributed
another dish and I brought the sauces.
One
time for Nikki blessing our lives with ranch and barbeque sauce from home.
Day #27: Lakufa’anga
Sammy
and I got up before dawn to bike the seven or so miles to the cliffs at the
southernmost end of the island, called Lakufa’anga.
Grey streaks of light were just beginning to break through the darkness as we
got there. Scattered across the field among the rocks and tough grasses, a herd
of wild horses stood grazing. When we approached on our bikes they raised their
heads in our direction, flicked their tails and trotted into a line facing us
on the top of a small hill.
Sammy
and I hesitated, laughing that it looked like they were ready to charge at us,
but also secretly wondering if maybe that was something that could actually
happen in that moment, and what we would do if it was.
 |
| The wild horses grazing in the fields by the Lakufa'anga cliffs. |
After
a minute or two, we kept on walking, keeping our distance and heading toward
the edge of the cliff until they could understand that we meant no harm and
went back to grazing. On our way back from the land bridge, in full light, they
were still there. They looked at us curiously as we passed, no longer seeming
to feel threatened, and we returned their gaze, struggling to tear ourselves
away to make it home in time for school.
Day #28: Playing Hooky
Several
of the teachers at Hofangahau ditched school to go into town. We got take-away
chicken and manioke from the stand at
the market, and then went to picnic at the wharf. Mia treated us all to cans of
orange pop, and I bought the four of us double-scoop ice cream cones.
Day #29: Snail Mail
Letters
sent before the New Year, arriving here in March. Doesn’t take away from the
excitement and happy connection I feel to home.
Day #30: Põ Ako
Even
after seven hours at school during the day, plus the hours of yard work
afterwards to maintain the school grounds and buildings, my Form 1 and 2
students come to night school early, and bursting with energy.
Day #31: Keeping the Sabbath
I’ve
come to appreciate Sundays in ‘Eua; their utter quiet and laziness. They used
to make me restless. Now, I just lay in my hammock reading a book, or succumb
willingly to the food coma after a traditional Tongan kai ‘umu.
Eat,
pray, sleep, and repeat.
Day #32: Tã Ki Ai
I
have this one boy in my Form 1 class who probably shouldn’t be there. He
struggles. He doesn’t get it. His reading and writing levels in every subject
are not where they should be. He most likely will not pass.
But
he comes to class, and Hulita—my counterpart—and I try to help him, sitting
down and working with him one-on-one whenever we can. When he gets something
right though, the way he looks up at either of us, that huge smile on his face,
and then rushes to write the answer in wobbly and often backwards letters......
Day #33: Morning Boogey
Choosing
from my playlists and boogying around the house while brushing my teeth,
washing my face and getting ready for the day.
Day #34: Oreo Heaven
I
found a single pack of strawberry cream-filed Oreos on the shelf of a falekoloa
during one of my rare mid-week trips into town. I couldn’t pass them up.
On
my way home I met up with Mesieli, a boy from my village who I’d met during my
second week in ‘Eua. Six months ago, him being as shy as he is, and with my
Tongan where it was and his English where it is, we couldn’t really say a whole
lot of anything to each other.
But,
as we walked together this time, we had a legitimate conversation in Tongan
while happily sharing the slightly stale but still delicious pack of Oreos I’d just bought.
Day #35: The Heke at Hafu
Hiking
club got rained out, but Sammy and I went anyway bringing two kids from her
village. The pictures/video say it better than I can.
Day #36: Team Toli Indian
Apples
One
of my students, Finau, and I went Indian apple picking. She pointed out the
tree, two huge apples hanging from limbs out-of-reach. I picked up a rusted
pole from the porch of the person’s whose yard we were in, and after whacking a
bee’s nest that was in the way, set to knocking the fruits down.
After
trying several unsuccessful methods, I was able to maneuver the pole into a
position where it pulled the branch toward me. I handed the pole over to Finau
and then jumped to grab onto the branch. Finau dropped the pole and took hold
of the branch from me. I jumped up again to grab the apples and tug them from
the tree.
We
brought them into the church hall to eat, using our hands to rip off sticky chunks
and pass them to the other girls around us.
Day #37: Ha’apai is a State of Mind
Bailey,
Sammy and I spent our school break in the Ha’apai island group. We stayed with
a Tongan family Sammy had met in her village in ‘Eua.
We spent four days
gorging ourselves on fish fresh from the ocean, walking along sandy beaches,
and exploring town, catcalling all the beautiful Polynesian men we went out of
our way to pass. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes more than twice.
 |
| Sammy, Bailey and I with some fish from the wharf at Ha'apai. |
Day #38: ‘Eua Girls Outdoor Club
Takes on Hafu Pool
For
our debut hike for the club we’ve started in ‘Eua, we took the girls to a place
called Hafu Pool. After hiking through the forest, we made it to the freshwater
pool, where the 23 girls from our three villages swam and went exploring.
We
provided a healthy lunch and played some English games, and then hiked back to
the main road, where each group set off in a different direction back towards
our respective villages.
 |
| Bailey and Sammy with the girls from the hiking club playing some English games. |
The
girls ask us everyday when we’re going again.
Day #39: Winter Is Coming
The
weather has finally turned cool. Some nights with the wind blowing like it
does, I go to sleep in sweats and wake up just warm enough, not drenched in
sweat.
It’s
no longer too hot to stand. No more 24/7 sweaty gleam to my skin. No more
sweat-stained clothes. No more
fanning myself to sleep or waking up having stripped down while I was out.
Day #40: Late Night Tutoring
I
sat on the floor in Kina’s house helping her daughter, Tepola, work on an essay
for her Form 5 English class. Five of Tepola’s siblings sat around us, along
with her parents and Luseane and Tevita, all watching and listening, and adding
their own ideas to the mix whenever they’d think of something else to go along
with the topic. Kina served hot coffee mixed with milk from a tin teapot, while
Tafea helped me translate concepts between Tongan and English.
I
left their house around midnight, all eight of them curling up under blankets
to sleep next to each other on the floor.
 |
| The isolated beach at Fangatave at sunrise. |
