My options are: Stay home and listen to BBC reruns on the Peace Corps issued transistor radio... OR... Go watch the prize fight between Tonga and Samoa!
{Last Week}
I hang out in town and talk to the locals as I expand my community knowledge. There is a table set up outside a local pool hall were a group of Tongans promote their fights. Don King is nowhere to be seen. I usually chat with them, as they are a gregarious group, and they really want to see some palangis (foreigners) at their events. I commit to 'try' to make it.
The night comes (Saturday the 29th - yes it is already Sunday here in Tonga as I post this). It is pouring and the stadium is many miles away on the most dangerous road in the Kingdom. I leave my sparkling new bicycle at the campground and walk off into the rain. After perhaps a mile I spot a cab and $10 later I see the gates of the country's basketball arena. TOP$20 gets me into the the big event!
I buy a couple of bags of locally grown peanuts from a little kid (TOP$1 each). They are great.
The crowd is mostly men and a fair number of kids. We are all in a good mood and having a ball.
Since this is Tonga we start with a lengthy lotu (prayer), some hymns and musical entertainment. Then a bunch or amateur events. They are fun and we get one knock out.
I think I am the only white face in the place but I am wrong! They announce that a Palangi will referee the next fight. It turns out this is a joke. There is a Tongan referee who has sprayed his hair (afro style) with bright yellow hair dye and is masquerading as a palangi. What great fun!
The the professionals matches (2). The Samoans come out wrapped in a Samoan flag, the Tongans draped in theirs. We stand for the national anthems and the Samoan wipes up the Tongan in the first match.
Then for the title fight. The Tongan is the current heavyweight champion. I'm not sure of what, but I think some sort of South Pacific region. In an unanimous decision the Tongan retains his title!
So now it is about 10PM, dark, raining, and I am many miles from my campsite. I chat with some youth as I try to hitch a ride into town. They live here, but standing in the rain talking with a Peace Corps is good fun and beats walking home. They try to help, but no luck. Finally a car pulls up! Two women and their sleeping kids. I ask to be dropped at the bypass road (less than a mile from where I sleep) but they insist on taking me to my door. They are from a small village and their last Peace Corps Volunteer was also from Texas. She was 26 and left in August. Nice ladies.
We have boxing here on a regular basis. I'm gonna try to get a couple of the guys to join me next time. I will keep looking for Don King in the crowd!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Party Crashers
I'm riding around town in the early morning. The sun is rising and a few people are just starting to mill about.
I approach the police station and stop at the 4 way before it. Two vans are both turning around in the intersection. They sort of face each other. They both gun it and slam head on into each other - CRASH!
Both cars then back up and rush off in different directions. This is how accidents are resolved here.
One of the crowd of loitering policeman commandeers the next vehicle to pass by and begins pursuit of the closest perpetrator. He didn't really need the ride as his perp has broken down just up the block, probably from a crushed radiator. I don't stay to see what happens.
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The roads here are very dangerous. As a person not trusted to drive (Peace Corps Rule #2322) I navigate these roads on a bicycle. There is not a day that I don't head off the road as someone comes straight at me. Since I am on the the left side of the left lane (we drive to the left here) there is no reason for anyone sober to do this.
In Va Vau one of the trainees was in several wrecks in one week. All were resolved by simply driving away. I was in one where the road had parked cars on both sides. Our van and the oncoming van both squeezed into the narrow space available. The sides of our vehicles scraped loudly as we passed. Neither stopped. Our driver simply stated that he had a cousin who could fix it. No flipping the bird. No shouting, and certainly no stopping.
Also in Va Vau I witnessed a near fatal crash on a lonely country road. Three young men had gotten totally drunk and the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. He hit an oncoming tree. They were all ejected. This happened before noon. No one would take them to the hospital until the cops came. The locals were angry about the drunk driving and their prosecution was more important than their survival. I can't say as I blame them.
I approach the police station and stop at the 4 way before it. Two vans are both turning around in the intersection. They sort of face each other. They both gun it and slam head on into each other - CRASH!
Both cars then back up and rush off in different directions. This is how accidents are resolved here.
One of the crowd of loitering policeman commandeers the next vehicle to pass by and begins pursuit of the closest perpetrator. He didn't really need the ride as his perp has broken down just up the block, probably from a crushed radiator. I don't stay to see what happens.
---------------------
The roads here are very dangerous. As a person not trusted to drive (Peace Corps Rule #2322) I navigate these roads on a bicycle. There is not a day that I don't head off the road as someone comes straight at me. Since I am on the the left side of the left lane (we drive to the left here) there is no reason for anyone sober to do this.
In Va Vau one of the trainees was in several wrecks in one week. All were resolved by simply driving away. I was in one where the road had parked cars on both sides. Our van and the oncoming van both squeezed into the narrow space available. The sides of our vehicles scraped loudly as we passed. Neither stopped. Our driver simply stated that he had a cousin who could fix it. No flipping the bird. No shouting, and certainly no stopping.
Also in Va Vau I witnessed a near fatal crash on a lonely country road. Three young men had gotten totally drunk and the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. He hit an oncoming tree. They were all ejected. This happened before noon. No one would take them to the hospital until the cops came. The locals were angry about the drunk driving and their prosecution was more important than their survival. I can't say as I blame them.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
The Gymn
Don't worry, the bike didn't break again (yet). I just included this shot so you can admire the beast and besides that is the gym behind.
It is the only gym in Tonga. In the entire country.
It exists to support the local rugby team and is open Mon-Fri 06:00 - 21:00. Sat 06:00 - 12:00 and closed (duh) on Sunday.
The gear is mostly old, but who care if the free weights are bit rusty? Not much here, but again they have the stuff I want, a bench for bench pressing, a preacher bench and a few universal machines.
I have started to meet the guys. I stand out. I am perhaps a third the size of the average weight lifting patron. I talk to a regular. His tattooed arms are HUGE. He is an attorney.
There are some palangis that come here, but mostly for the classes. There is a kickboxing class two nights a week, step one night, weight aerobics, and yoga on Saturday morning.
I'm pleased with the discovery. This is a better place to network than church since there is a lot of time to talk when working out.
Christmas in Tonga
Christmas eve. No one sleeps in Tonga.
Fireworks pop wizz and bang everywhere. A few big ones are set off outside my window, but my lack of response moves the kids to a more interesting target. The fireworks will not stop tonight - tomorrow or tomorrow night. They go on all night.
A small group of girls walks by carolling Tongan hymns about 10PM. Nice.
I decide I need to sleep. It is not possible with the fireworks and laughing kids enjoying their pyrotechnic exploits. I finally pass out in the wee hours of the morning.
I awake and the room is full of singing people? I turn on the light - no, they are not in here. But they SOUND like they are?
The church choir, all of them, are slowly walking by singing Hymns. Since the streets are only a meter or so from my window on two sides (can you say Privacy?) I am surrounding by singing Tongans. Tongan can sing. Really - they have a gift.
I check my watch it is 2:48AM.
Come to learn the church choirs start at midnight and sings until the 6AM service in the morning. Not to worry this church only does it on Christmas Eve. The BIGGER church (LongoLongo) has four choirs and they will pick up the duty tomorrow night - the same hours.
The bells are ringing, people are singing, cocks are crowing. I am up at 05:30 Christmas Morning. No signs of Santa.
I make coffee and use the toilet. I shave in the kitchen (my bathroom drains back up if I use them and I assume they are connected to the toilet? Can you say clean feet?) The kitchen sink drains to a pipe that unceremoniously dumps it's waste on the ground a few inches from the wall.
I return to the bathroom, wondering how short a shower I can take before the drain will back up. The shower only trickles, I hope I can get 30 seconds?
I look in the toilet. Another molokou! (Toxic centipede.) He has already stopped swimming. I don't know if he swam up the pipe, or took a swan dive from the lip of the toilet? Since I was sitting there a few minutes earlier I have visions of the little darling reaching over the bowl trying to get his fangs into anything hanging within reach. I decide to keep the lid up from now on, after all there are no women here to offend.
I ride my bike to town. I pass a bread shop. It is open on Christmas but only sells Christmas cakes, not something I want.
I have decided to attend the BIG Century church across from the king's tomb. It is a Free Tongan church. This will be the fourth different church I have attended since returning to Nuku'alofa.
The church is built in the European tradition. Cruciform shape and flying buttresses. It must be built well as it has apparently survived a lot of earthquakes.
I ride up to a group of ministers and inquire as to the hour of the service. I learn that it will be at 09:45. I am wearing long shorts, appropriate for the bike ride, but less so for church. I sneak around the bathroom and return in my tupenu and ta'vala. They are pleased.
I am very early and sit in the middle of church and observe. I meet some of the older men hanging around. One appears to be the youth minister. People suggest I move forward. It turns out I am sitting in the middle of the band section. Yup, they have a brass band here!
After a few moves and a lot of handshakes I end up in the middle of the church in the front row of the choir. The best seat in the house.
This is the King's church. He and his family do not show.
During the service a young boy starts running up and down the center interacting with the congregation. Yes - he has a plastic .45 and he is shooting us during the service. It is a good looking gun, even has a working slide. And no.. there is no red tip on the barrel.
After church I have lunch with my language trainer. Her house is always full of kids so it is a good place for Christmas. I have my first giant clam. I like it.
The little boy plays at slitting my throat with a toy box cutter. I have never even heard of such a thing, and as an American post 9/11 it bugs me. I smile and don't let on.
'Ofa warns me that there will be a brass band (yes another one!!!) across from my house at 3PM, so I should go now if I want a nap. It is already nearly 2.
At 3Pm the bells ring at the church, then the huge band starts up. It is 20 meters from my bed.
Around 5Pm the family I live with brings me another plate of food. It include the purple kumala (sweet potato) that I really like. I spend some time with them and learn about the four choirs that will be roaming the neighborhood tonight.
Oh well. I can always catch up on my sleep tomorrow?
Ahhhhhhh... Christmas in Tonga!
Fireworks pop wizz and bang everywhere. A few big ones are set off outside my window, but my lack of response moves the kids to a more interesting target. The fireworks will not stop tonight - tomorrow or tomorrow night. They go on all night.
A small group of girls walks by carolling Tongan hymns about 10PM. Nice.
I decide I need to sleep. It is not possible with the fireworks and laughing kids enjoying their pyrotechnic exploits. I finally pass out in the wee hours of the morning.
I awake and the room is full of singing people? I turn on the light - no, they are not in here. But they SOUND like they are?
The church choir, all of them, are slowly walking by singing Hymns. Since the streets are only a meter or so from my window on two sides (can you say Privacy?) I am surrounding by singing Tongans. Tongan can sing. Really - they have a gift.
I check my watch it is 2:48AM.
Come to learn the church choirs start at midnight and sings until the 6AM service in the morning. Not to worry this church only does it on Christmas Eve. The BIGGER church (LongoLongo) has four choirs and they will pick up the duty tomorrow night - the same hours.
The bells are ringing, people are singing, cocks are crowing. I am up at 05:30 Christmas Morning. No signs of Santa.
I make coffee and use the toilet. I shave in the kitchen (my bathroom drains back up if I use them and I assume they are connected to the toilet? Can you say clean feet?) The kitchen sink drains to a pipe that unceremoniously dumps it's waste on the ground a few inches from the wall.
I return to the bathroom, wondering how short a shower I can take before the drain will back up. The shower only trickles, I hope I can get 30 seconds?
I look in the toilet. Another molokou! (Toxic centipede.) He has already stopped swimming. I don't know if he swam up the pipe, or took a swan dive from the lip of the toilet? Since I was sitting there a few minutes earlier I have visions of the little darling reaching over the bowl trying to get his fangs into anything hanging within reach. I decide to keep the lid up from now on, after all there are no women here to offend.
I ride my bike to town. I pass a bread shop. It is open on Christmas but only sells Christmas cakes, not something I want.
I have decided to attend the BIG Century church across from the king's tomb. It is a Free Tongan church. This will be the fourth different church I have attended since returning to Nuku'alofa.
The church is built in the European tradition. Cruciform shape and flying buttresses. It must be built well as it has apparently survived a lot of earthquakes.
I ride up to a group of ministers and inquire as to the hour of the service. I learn that it will be at 09:45. I am wearing long shorts, appropriate for the bike ride, but less so for church. I sneak around the bathroom and return in my tupenu and ta'vala. They are pleased.
I am very early and sit in the middle of church and observe. I meet some of the older men hanging around. One appears to be the youth minister. People suggest I move forward. It turns out I am sitting in the middle of the band section. Yup, they have a brass band here!
After a few moves and a lot of handshakes I end up in the middle of the church in the front row of the choir. The best seat in the house.
This is the King's church. He and his family do not show.
During the service a young boy starts running up and down the center interacting with the congregation. Yes - he has a plastic .45 and he is shooting us during the service. It is a good looking gun, even has a working slide. And no.. there is no red tip on the barrel.
After church I have lunch with my language trainer. Her house is always full of kids so it is a good place for Christmas. I have my first giant clam. I like it.
The little boy plays at slitting my throat with a toy box cutter. I have never even heard of such a thing, and as an American post 9/11 it bugs me. I smile and don't let on.
'Ofa warns me that there will be a brass band (yes another one!!!) across from my house at 3PM, so I should go now if I want a nap. It is already nearly 2.
At 3Pm the bells ring at the church, then the huge band starts up. It is 20 meters from my bed.
Around 5Pm the family I live with brings me another plate of food. It include the purple kumala (sweet potato) that I really like. I spend some time with them and learn about the four choirs that will be roaming the neighborhood tonight.
Oh well. I can always catch up on my sleep tomorrow?
Ahhhhhhh... Christmas in Tonga!
Kilisimasi FieFia!!!! - Bang Bang!
What is with all the guns? As the days lead up to Christmas all the male kids are becoming better armed. By Christmas eve virtually all of them are packing some sort of cheap Chinese toy gun. They are everywhere. I pick through the debris of broken guns in the street looking for anything I can recycle into a bike part or something. I keep a nylon washer.
As I walk down the road a parent tells his child to "shoot the Palangi". I get blasted by an electronic ray gun and play that I've been hit. Everyone laughs. I am downtown. A gray haired gentleman walks by with a plastic shotgun. He walks in a small shop and announces "Merry Christmas" (in English) then "Bam Bam" as he pretends to blast the woman behind the counter. He laughs and laughs then goes on the next shop where he repeats the joke.
I discuss this with the woman I live with. (Well... not live WITH, but share a house with.) It is Christmas afternoon. Her sons have huge new toy guns. The biggest is labeled "The Terminator." No conclusions as yet.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Transportation 101 - the midterm exam
On Monday I return my bike to Primas. I leave it until after lunch and they replace the crank. They assure me that this time they have tightened everything and I will have no more trouble. We cordially part. I am back on wheels!
By Thursday my back tire is bulging and threatening to pop off the rim. I deflate it, reset it, and with moderate pressure it is still bulging. I assume the tube is kinked.
No worries, I will stop by in the morning and have them fix it.
As I pedal up the dark streets to town (I usually go to town about dawn) I feel a faintly familiar wobble. This time the LEFT crank falls to the ground.
To keep the story short - Primas stepped up to the plate and put it all back together. I am back on wheels. I even found some sewing machine oil so now I have the only bike in the Kingdom with an oiled chain.
By Thursday my back tire is bulging and threatening to pop off the rim. I deflate it, reset it, and with moderate pressure it is still bulging. I assume the tube is kinked.
No worries, I will stop by in the morning and have them fix it.
As I pedal up the dark streets to town (I usually go to town about dawn) I feel a faintly familiar wobble. This time the LEFT crank falls to the ground.
To keep the story short - Primas stepped up to the plate and put it all back together. I am back on wheels. I even found some sewing machine oil so now I have the only bike in the Kingdom with an oiled chain.
How many legs does that thing have?
My landlady finally got me a shower head. Now I plan to take a shower instead of a bucket bath for the first time in a week. I strip, much enjoyed I am sure by the peeking neighbors, and head into the bathroom.
What the heck is that? Climbing the slick tile wall is a ten inch long brown centipede. He gracefully grips a small crack in the ceramic as he slowly heads toward the ceiling.
It is a molokai. They are very venomous.
I lack any appropriate crushing tools and despite the number of indigenous arthropods have not purchased any of the hard core pesticide sprays that are so common here. Besides, I have heard that these things laugh at chemical onslaughts.
I grab a can opener and push the critter into my bath bucket. Now what?
I know... I'll flush it down the toilet. An ancient and trusted method of pest removal. In he goes.
Swimming does not phase this thing. He is doing laps in my toilet.
I flush. Here we have two buttons for flushing. One for #1 and the 2nd for #2.
I push the #2 button and hold. Gallons of water flush through the basin.
Problem solved! Wait... Wait... It swims upstream back into the bowl!
Well I certainly am not going to sit there with that thing doing the backstroke beneath.
Eventually it gets tired and I repeat the flush, this time using every drop. It takes 5 minutes for the water pressure to recover enough for a trickle from the shower head.
But my multi legged friend is gone.
What the heck is that? Climbing the slick tile wall is a ten inch long brown centipede. He gracefully grips a small crack in the ceramic as he slowly heads toward the ceiling.
It is a molokai. They are very venomous.
I lack any appropriate crushing tools and despite the number of indigenous arthropods have not purchased any of the hard core pesticide sprays that are so common here. Besides, I have heard that these things laugh at chemical onslaughts.
I grab a can opener and push the critter into my bath bucket. Now what?
I know... I'll flush it down the toilet. An ancient and trusted method of pest removal. In he goes.
Swimming does not phase this thing. He is doing laps in my toilet.
I flush. Here we have two buttons for flushing. One for #1 and the 2nd for #2.
I push the #2 button and hold. Gallons of water flush through the basin.
Problem solved! Wait... Wait... It swims upstream back into the bowl!
Well I certainly am not going to sit there with that thing doing the backstroke beneath.
Eventually it gets tired and I repeat the flush, this time using every drop. It takes 5 minutes for the water pressure to recover enough for a trickle from the shower head.
But my multi legged friend is gone.
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