Revenge

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I sit in my plastic lawn chair reading my latest Halo Book:"First Strike". I am into it as the Master Chief blasts the hell out of various aliens that belong to the religious zealots known as The Covenant. There are all kinds of nasty aliens, and reading about them being blown away is satisfying.

Wait... Whats that?

I see an alien form slithering rapidly from near my feet.

A mouse? It's going the right speed.

Nope - Too serpentine.

I stand and greet my nemesis, the evil molokau. It is seeking relics, or more likely seeking a mouse or giant cockroach for dinner.

I want to take a picture, but if I get my camera it'll be gone. It only takes a few seconds to cross the room and it'll be through a crack in the wall.

I grab my dust broom and pan. I brush him in. He rears to strike. I toss him into my Tongan washing machine, an eight quart plastic pail.

I shoot the shot for this post. Now I'm stuck. What to do with the alien beast?

I use the method proven by many a parent for the disposal of a dead goldfish. I toss it into the toilet.

This guy was big. maybe 8 or 10 inches, and he is as angry as a Covenant Elite facing a Spartan.

The giant centipede starts to climb out of the toilet. I watch it squirming up the side of the bowl and rush to gram my 24" bush knife. By the time I return to the toilet he is reaching over the rim and he is pissed!

I draw back to strike and he curls down and disappears into the rim that supplies the flushing water. He is gone, his cloaking device activated.

Well... lets face it... I won't be able to sit on this throne with a giant venomous centipede right under the lip.

I flush the toilet. We have two flush buttons, #1 and #2. I push #2.

He is pushed half way out and I strike. Clang - I missed and he is gone.

I wait none to patiently for the tank to refill. Finally it does.

I flush. He slips. I strike.

I have split him in two. Both halves continue to squirm and fight, but he can no longer swim worth a darn, and he sure as shootin' can't climb out.

Victory is ours. It feels good to blast the Covenant into slipspace. I hope he was the bastard that bit me in my sleep a couple of weeks ago. Revenge is sweet.

Easter in Tonga - Not much goin on

Good Friday. It is one of those "special" holidays here. Everything is closed with the notable exception of the bread shops. Thank God they are open.

No cabs or buses, no ferries and, obviously, the airport is closed. I am up at 03:00... not healthy. The church bells clamor before 05:00. The bells wake those roosters that are still snoozing and the clamoring is deafening. I am listening to the radio, on these 'no work' days they play a feed from the BBC world service. I can't hear anything until the bells finally quit.

After tea I wait for sunup then I wander the town, chatting with folks I see. The local bakery has hot cross buns to celebrate Easter, so I grab half a dozen and eat them outside the closed public market.

All in all a quiet day. Good for reading and not much else.

Saturday is the opposite. Everything is open, at least until noon. We know that both Sunday and Monday are holidays here so everyone is bulking up to survive until Tuesday.

The Prime Minister's grocery store has a remote from Cool-90 FM. For the remote they are offering free ice cream cones and cheap sausages. They have boxes of expired wine at about half price. I battle through the line and scarf a free cone. I load a box of wine into my back pack along with a six pack of roach baits and a bunch of small presents to send to my PCV friends on Eua. A couple of PCVs from here are heading over for Easter and offer to carry the stuff.

I bike out to the campsite and empty my backpack, then back into town. There is a place near the market that has a couple of freezers and a scale. The freezers have frozen slices of local tuna. I grab a chunk the size of a dinner plate. 2.2 kilos. It is frozen solid and that's a good thing.

Back to the campsite to toss it into the fridge. I will eat half of it today (Easter). Then back into town.

As you may recall the male PCVs all dropped a dangerous amount of weight during training. I lost over 20 pounds, all muscle, in only ten weeks.

Since coming to the capital I have managed to put it all back on. I go the the gym and often bike ten or twenty miles a day and a heavy and primitive bike. I eat about a kilo of meat, a loaf of bread, a couple of cups of white rice for dinner most nights. I may die of malnutrition, but i won't be a skinny little twerp of a corpse when I go.

Today is Easter. I manage to sleep until the bells, real progress for me. I turn on the lights and... no scurrying roaches! I look in the kitchen, there a few roaches, but they apparently died while practicing the backstroke on the kitchen floor. Good riddance. I recommend the Mortein roach baits! I don't really mind the little arthropods, but I'm concerned that their presence may attract the larger predators. And I do NOT want another interaction with a molokau.

After doing my daily emergency coordinator research I do the rounds of the bakeries. Nothing available early, not unexpected, but I appreciate the chance to get some exercise. I'll go back to the bakery, this one is about 4 miles from my campsite in Maufunga. It is early so I usually hang for five minutes and chat with the bored staff. They and I both appreciate the company.

It is about noon here now and I'm thinking of heading out again. They promise to have cinnamon rolls sometime today. Having just talked to my daughter who is making the same at her boyfriends house, I'm kinda craving them. There is a heavy downpour outside the Peace Corps office. As soon as it quites I'll make another dash to bakery.

Pretty quiet here. My molokau bit is still inflamed. Not much else to report.

Bank On It!

As usual I am low on cash. I try to keep my cash position low to help reduce spending and minimize the impact of any loss or theft. I cycle into town on my newly repaired bike (long story) before dawn and decide to hit the ATM before checking out the bakery for cheap food.

The ATM is displaying a screen that indicates it is not going to be of much use to me. No worries, there is a second. After all I am at the main Tonga branch of one of Australia's largest banks.

The second ATM is also feeling under the weather. Hmmm. Here is a note informing all customers that the ATM and EFT networks are down until further notice. I still have $3 cash, so I buy a loaf of whole grain bread for $1.80 and skip my usual donation to the old lady beggar of the bakery. I am glad it is $1.80. It is a different price every day and sometimes it is up to $3.30. Same bakery. Same clerk. And no, they don't actually change the prices every five minutes. It is just Tonga.

Later I head for the local bank branch near work. The ATMs are still dead.

I hit the very long line, but enjoy the wait as this is one of the few buildings in Tonga with air conditioning. Finally it is my turn.

"I'd like to take out $100 please" I say.
"Do you have your last ATM receipt?" asks the teller.
"Uhhh... No." is my reply.

A worried look. Normally I just give my name and over the counter comes the cash. No passport, no drivers license, no ID of any kind. This is, after all, Tonga.

The problem today? No computers at all. None. But no worries, we fill out a withdrawal slip with just my name, no account number, and I eventually get my $100. I know I'm good for it, but I am thankful the bank agrees. I suspect that being a palangi helped.

Try that one at home.

My Campsite is Starting to Really Bug Me!

I spend the evening (Friday night) at a gathering at the Australia High Commission. The Australians and Kiwis have a lot of parties and know how to have a good time. No good food this time (unusual) but an endless supply of beer and a lot of important contacts to chat and network with.

I finally return to the campsite about 11PM, later than usual. I turn on the fan and crash.

I am really pooped so I am sleeping pretty good. Am I dreaming? Maybe, hard to remember.

Then...

Owww!!! Holy Crap! It feels like there is a knife being driven into my hand. I try to brush "it" off, whatever "it" is, but there is nothing there. By now I am beginning to enter the realm of consciousness and find I am standing by my bed vigorously shaking my hand. On with the light. Nothing in sight. I strip the bed, and easy job since I have only a sheet, no blankets. After all this is only a campsite, not a viable home. Nothing there. "It" has made its escape.

I rush to the kitchen for my bush knife. This is a significant knife. It has a 24 inch blade. I loan it to my landlord so her son can trim the hedges with it. I also have a file, so the blade is far from blunt.

Why do I need a bush knife at 04:30 in the AM of a Saturday morning? Because this is my preferred weapon for battling molokous. Molokous are the giant tropical centipedes that are but one of the diverse pests that infest my campsite. Readers of this blog will remember past references to my previous traumatic but up-till-now painless encounters with these nasty beasts.

I poke around with the knife. Under the bed. In the dirty cloths on the floor. No dice. No molokou. I cock my head and listen. Can I hear the little bastard laughing at me from within the termite infested walls? Maybe. Or maybe its just the scurrying of a mouse.

I go to run cold water on my hand. There are two holes, viper like, in my palm. Each sports a tiny drop of blood. Mine.

I look down as I wash. All of the rat poison is now gone. Eaten with no apparent effect. I've been spending a small fortune to reduce the number of rodents that share my campsite. I have learned that anything edible, such as crackers or bread, must be stored in the icy (refrigerator) or they will be gnawed open. I hope that removing the readily available blood supply offered in the form of the rodent hoards doesn't make the Dengue Mosquitoes any hungrier for my blood. Perhaps I should get a hairless cat and offer it as a sacrifice to the bloodsuckers?

These random thoughts help me to control the pain. The bite of a giant tropical centipede really hurts. There is a video on the web of one striking a mouse. They strike just like a snake.

Why won't they eat MY mice? Perhaps they do, maybe that's what attracts so many of the venomous arthropods to my campsite in the first place.

As a rare individual who has now been bitten by both a rattlesnake (while in Texas) and the Centipede I would have to say that this Tongan critter hurts a lot more for the first couple of hours, but in the long haul the Texas bite was nastier.

Tomorrow is Sunday here. Maybe I'll ask the Fifekau (minister) to give a special prayer. "Please Lord help me find a tolerable place to live soon." Maybe if I give him a good mat and some tapa he would put in a good word?

Boy - That bugs me!

We move to a new office this week. It is air conditioned. This is heaven here in The Kingdom.

We also have some interesting bugs. Yup bugs.

Meet our good friend the Rhinoceros Beetle. These guys are a local pest that eat coconut trees. In the past there has been a bounty on these guys, you turned in their wings for money. Now the coconut industry is, like most industries here in Tonga, mostly dead, so nobody cares about our big friends.

As you can see we have had a great time with this guy (the second one I've found so far at the new office.)

Emily - The blonde woman making eye contact with our new friend, works nearby. She is another PCV. Niki, the brunette woman is an Australian Youth Ambassador who works in my office. Emily named this guy 'Ed'. We know its a male from its horn.

You can also tell just how boring it is here in Tonga, especially at the end of the month. We are all broke. Today the group sits in the PC Office and shares slices of green moldy bread. With the runaway inflation here it is just a matter of time before we start to collect the beetles and have a BBQ. Who knows, maybe they taste like coconut! Whoops, there goes Niki eating Ed now!

I love the Feeling of Security

The slime around my feet is about an inch deep. It has been a couple of days since I nuked it with bleach, and the bathroom floor clearly needs to be attacked again. I just worked out at the Gym and stopped back at the campsite for a minimal amount of time to take a shower, such as it is.

I hear a strange racket outside. It is the landlady. They have moved out (the kids can't stand the neighborhood and they will be staying at the seminary where the invisible dad will be teaching.) I almost never see them, as I leave in the morning long before they wake, and I stay away from the campsite except to sleep.

I ask her if she can do anything about the drain in the bathroom. It has always been slow, but now is 100% stopped. Thus the biological petri dish that I shower in.

She promises to have her husband Muli stop by the next day to have a look. Muli is an allegedly important minister around here. His very name strikes culturally appropriate fear in the hearts of the Peace Corps office. I have never seen him. I do not expect that I ever will.

The next day the landlady stops by The Chamber (my workplace) to get her rent check. She informs me that she has fixed the drain! I am very excited. Back in The World I take 3 or 4 hot showers a day and the thought of even one piss poor cold shower without slime is a religious revelation.

The Hash group has a BBQ to go with our drinking and running (or walking) and I am a sweaty mess as I head back to the campsite early. It is only now dark as I pull my bike up to the door and unlock the deadbolt. I reach for the doorknob and - nothing.

The landlady has pushed in the button on the doorknob, locking it. The issue? No one has a key. There has been much discussion about having 'the Chinese man' come by to make keys, but after two months still no keys.

The mosquitoes are feasting on my sweaty carcass. There is no light. I am really dehydrated and am afraid I might faint if I don't get a drink soon. I think about going to the closest FaleKaloa and buying some beer or bottled water, then I remember that I am broke again. The Peace Corps living allowance is a joke. Ha Ha Ha

I try to call the secretary at the Chamber. She is the one that found the campsite and may know how to contact the landlord. No answer.

I wander next door. The neighbors are visiting from Sacramento. Like most Tongans in Nuku'alofa they are talking amongst themselves in English as I walk up in the dark. Nope - They have no contact info.

I know the landlady's brother lives on the next street. I feed their dog and the big black beast now feels possessive about my campsite. I am hopeful that this will decrease the chances of a burglary. Ha Ha Ha

The brother also has no contact info for his elusive sister. He hops into his van to drive to their new place. The plan is to get the key to their house. There is a common door between the house and my bedroom and it is ajar so he can then just walk in and open my from door.

Yes folks, the door between their house and my apartment is ajar. No working latch. No lock. Not even a doorknob. They hold it closed on their side with a piece of furniture.

I sit in front of the house in the dark. The mosquitoes are relentless. Every car that comes bouncing down the pothole filled road brings hope, but they all continue by.

Bump.

I think I hear a noise in the house. Can't be... after all I am standing out front at the gate and no one has passed me.

Click - Click Flicker

The light in front of my door is on. Creak. The door opens and out walks the brother's son.

"They didn't have a key either, so I just came in the back window," he informs me. I thank him and he is gone.

So now I know. If I get locked out just come in through the back window.

I feel so safe.

What's up with the Fish?

Friday (that was yesterday here) was a hectic day. Meetings with groups that have real impact on The Kingdom in both the short and long term. A very hectic day.

A bunch of PCV's (and Niki, The Chamber's Australian Youth Volunteer) have a lunch meeting with a group from MAFFF, the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, Fisheries and Females.) I added the female part, women are a special part of their mission. I am an hour late because of a last minute conflict.

We have been discussing ways we can help women in villages. This means improving nutrition, generating income at the market, stuff like that. My proposal revolves around enhancing the diversity of citrus cultivars within The Kingdom.

The best thing about these meetings, besides actually working on something that is worthwhile, is that they are always trying out their latest foods and concoctions on us. As PCVs we are professional beggars and will go anywhere for free food, especially if it is interesting.

The best thing I tried was, well, I guess the best name for it would be coconut grog. They had poured coconut water into a sealed plastic container on Sunday. Then it just sat. The CO2 produced, (sorry AlGore!) occasionally pops open the lid, but they just seal it again. The anaerobic bacteria naturally occurring here do the rest. (What do you mean naturally occurring bacteria? Not here in Tonga!)

I am the only one brave (or stupid) enough to give it a try. It has a bite, obviously a pretty good alcholhol content, plus a fair amount of acetic acid.

So now I know that if I am ever Lost on a deserted Island I can keep MaryAnn and Ginger drinking on Saturday night. (Remember - my nickname here in Tonga is John Locke.)

It has started to rain. And it is coming down pretty good. Although The Chamber is close we rangle a rare ride back to work.

As EC Coordinator for this Island I keep a close eye on lots of stuff, but mostly the weather. I know there are no tropical depressions at all right now in the South Pacific, so I'm not worried, but I do pull up the latest forecast by Tonga's Meteorological service and post it on the PCV only Internet bulletin board. It calls for some rain on Friday and Heavy rain on Saturday.

Well, the Tongans should have consulted with AlGore. We all know that he is the only man on the planet who can accurately predict the weather, and he did invent this Internet thing and it seems to work pretty good.

The rain get heavier and heavier. It is coming down cats and dogs and there is no break.

We are amazed that the local youth (Mormon HS vs Government H.S.) decide that this weather is appropriate for a major rumble, but they stage their 20 person fight in the middle of the main drag, in front of the Chamber, in the pouring rain. Stupid Kids. They eventually get hauled away in a police bus.

Niki leaves after 6. She has a windbreaker but it ain't gonna help in this weather. I stay till 8. I never go back to the campsite before that anyway (I'm not fond of my housing arrangements) so I may as well stay here.

The front yard of the Chamber is less than a foot deep, but flooded. I have to lock up the gates and look like a drowned cat before I hit the street. I head down towards the bypass road staying in the middle where the depth is least. As I approach the roundabout that is the largest intersection in the country I notice that it is flooded, then I am in it.

The water rushes. It is perhaps a foot deep here, but moving fast. It is dangerous. I boogie around the center and head out towards LongoLongo. The water slows but is now over the hubs of my bike. I can see no land. No land anywhere. Hundreds of acres of floodwaters. Water over the thresholds of the houses. It is flowing but more slowly.

I have to stand to generate enough power to keep moving. I use utility poles as a guide to stay on the road. I am at least slightly worried that if I stop the drag of the water will push me to the lagoon. I am not wearing swim trunks.

I make it though the really deep stuff. I am aware that the new mud flaps are probably helping me tremendously, but I'm a bit busy and can't check them out. Soon I'm down to normal flooding, under a foot deep and cycle the rest of the way. As I pass the local Chinese FaleKaloa I give a 'Yeee Haww' scream to a Tongan shopping there. (Remember, at these shops the customers stand outside and the items are passed to them through a rebar covered window.) He responds with a hearty 'Io' (Yes) and a big smile.

By the time I get into the house I can be no wetter. (You can guess how flooded MY yard was. This time the water was up onto the porches.) The inside of my backpack has a couple of inches of water, I don't know how it got in there.

I responds to a couple of messages on my phone from PCVs wondering if we are going to activate our emergency plan. I tell them 'no'. This is just a bunch of rain, not a cyclone or anything. But I do warn them about the flooding and suggest no travel.

Since I'm cold I cook up a big batch of pork curry with lots of frozen veggies, onions, a local red pepper and some Chinese hot sauce. It is real hot and warms my wet bones.

The next morning is sunny and I do laundry. My wet clothes are starting to stink. I recall that the water I was wading though is full of fresh sewage. (Both human and swine.)

Then off to the gym. I think about lubing my bike. I know bikes are not by nature amphibious and it will need oil. Wisely I decide to let it dry first.

I cycle to the gym. Lots of water where I live. I live in the official Tongan Mosquito Hatchery, so at least I know that my blood is enhancing the biodiversity of The Planet.

The whole area is flooded. The water is receding and was clearly several feet deep last night. Now only a foot or so.

But wait. What do I see in the middle of the road? A school of Mosquito fish. I cheer them on. I see several more schools as I approach the gym. I can't imagine where they came from. This is fresh (filthy, but fresh) water so they can't be from the sea? Perhaps they swam up from the mangrove swamps by the lagoon?

The locals tell me that this is the worst flood here since 1982. Wow.

Update - Sunday Feb 10 - Apparently this really was a big rain. From the local paper:

At 10 am today the Fua'amotu weather station measured a total of 289.2mm (11.3 inches) of rain in the 24 hrs from 10 am on Friday February 8 to 10am on February 9. The Nuku'alofa weather station recorded 250.5mm in the same period."This is the greatest rainfall we have ever had in the kingdom," said the duty forecaster 'Ofa Taumoepeau