It is amazing how adaptable we can be. One month in and a sense of place, a sense of routine (in a positive way) have settled over me. The small size of the Nuku’alofa and the inclusive small group of pa’langi have contributed and now each week is punctuated with regular activities if I choose. Tuesday has a weaving group though haven’t made it there yet. Wednesday has the outrigger canoe club which I started last week, it was fun. Wednesday morning is Tongan language class so homework worms its way into the week somewhere. Maybe one day it will even worm its way into my conversations? Plans to swim regularly at the sea baths have tragically ended with the recent drowning of a 12 year old on a school trip. It is closed indefinitely I hear. But I was pleased to discover I can do a brisk half hour walk to the east along Hala Vuna — the road tracking the coast out of Nuku’alofa finish with a quick dip in the sea. I am hoping the water may be deep enough for some laps at high tide particularly on the days I can’t be bothered to drive 3km to the American wharf. Phone calls to friends and family (where time differences allow) and an episode or 2 of a show rather than reading Beau Geste (the book I have to read at the behest of Book Club) weave their way into my evenings. Friday is happy hour and dinner out with whoever turns up at the Seaview. Weekends begin with Saturday morning food shopping before shops shut mid afternoon, and probably a swim. This past week has seen the wet season hit with a force so today I have chosen a day of just chilling after church. Oh yes, and Sunday there is church!
The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception of Mary on Hala Vuna is close by. And the reason I am going to church? Typical of the region, Tonga is deeply religious. Sundays are the day of rest and nothing is open. Swimming, exercising, any business transaction are all prohibited by law other than at ‘resorts’. Umm, and the term ‘resort’, well let’s just say with 100% certainty ‘resorts’ on Tongatapua don’t match any image you’ve conjured just now. I’m told that the Vava’u group of islands 700km north are a little more tourism friendly but after a quick google search, still not looking that flash. It seems it’s the ocean, whales and reefs that lure the tourists to Tonga, not the accommodation. Locals will spend their Sunday afternoons cooking, eating and sleeping. So Sunday leaves an expanse of time to relax.
My email interview with the host of my project began with a question regarding my faith, religion, beliefs and willingness to participate in devotional meetings and prayers. Needless to say my antenna was up from the outset. Those of you who know me will be aware I have a strong sense of spirituality but organised religion, that’s quite a different thing. During the Melbourne on-boarding training a few scenarios regarding church attendance came up. It posed food for thought. Rather than deal with an uncomfortable situation in country I devised my plan of attack. Being a practicing Catholic for the first twenty five years of my life, assuming the service would be in Tongan, a language I was unlikely to become fluent in within a year, I thought tolerate a sermon I would not understand was possible and the singing would be uplifting if nothing else. The rituals would be familiar and steeped in loving childhood memories of church and mum. I recalled something she once said, church was for her a time to ponder and reflect, a time for herself. Yeh, that would work. I could do that.
Today was my second attendance. The Cathedral on Vuna road has a lovely strong breeze wafting from the sea encouraged by ceiling fans and a cross flow from side windows. The choir is strong and male baritones resonates right through me. Children play in the pews, climbing, smiling and enticing kids in front, venturing into the aisle with a furtive look back — how far can push the boundary before mum or an older sister glares or proffers a slap, keeping them in tow. The girls are dressed in chiffon and satin, frills and pearls. Teenager sisters and mothers proudly wear their kie kie, the belt with a skirt of ornately woven fronds hanging over their hips. Other women, teenage boys and men wear a ta’ovala, the mat woven from the fronds of the pandanus pine. This dried palm like plant creates a lattice of intricate patterns, the more tattered and torn the mat, the more priceless. Locals will spend up to A$1000 for a ta’ovala, considering this an investment, akin to purchasing a priceless artwork.
A father walks in late, his daughter sits quietly by him as his toddler son is lovingly held in the crook of his arm for the duration of the service. At times the father bows his head gently whispering a secret to the boy. Other than the occasional cry of a baby the congregation is calm, a soothing quietness punctuated only by melodious singing. At one point I am tempted to turn to see the owner of the deep bass voice behind me. Later when we nod ‘peace be with you’ (coronavirus hasn’t made it to Tonga yet, but the Catholics are proactive — no shaking of hands here — unlike some of the Christian religions of home whom I hear are ignoring warnings touting Jesus will save them), I see he is a young man. Just before communion, church officers walk down the aisles, a velvet bag on a long pole reaching along the pew. I drop my TOP 2 (Tongan panga — local currency) and ponder local salaries. We heard last night that a nurse gets about TOP 150 per week. Google tells me 91% of Tongans earn TOP 10000 per year. A doctor would earn TOP 220,000. The current exchange rate is about TOP 1 to A$ 0.65. A bus fare is TOP 1.50. Milk costs TOP 2.60, bread TOP 3.50. I probably spent about TOP 30 on veggies for the week, and that’s just me. It’s not uncommon for families here to have 10 children and live with an extended family. And they are BIG people with big appetites. While there will be a family plot where much of their food will be grown, the sea has a plentiful supply of fish, and pigs and dogs add to the menu, I consider my TOP 2. Not a lot of money to me but possibly a lot to some of the congregation.
I won’t be zealous about attendance at church but the occasional dip of the finger into the holy water will be good for my soul, and who knows, it may lead to local connections (I was the only palangi today).
Sundays. After church, yes I could join others swimming. But today I choose my first full day alone. What a contrast to Zim last year where weekends loomed with little electricity, little fuel and little social life. Today I watched ABC Australia before it went off mid afternoon, did some yoga, attempted my Tongan homework (not easy), have written this blog. Fresh tuna awaits for dinner and then Beau Geste. Hmm, maybe some more episodes of Suits instead?
One month in, I look forward to the eleven months ahead.
