Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Kuli fo'ou





We didn't want another dog, at all, ever. But, Bust seems to have adopted this incredibly ugly one. Have you seen an uglier animal? We've named him "Peka"- "Bat". His ears are ridiculous. I also call him gremlin. He likes to sneak into our house and sit somewhere, like near our shoes, and stay perfectly still. He "hides" for hours like that. It's very frightening.




Buster is such a good-looking dog! But just look at that little Peka....

Present progressive tense and aliens

We are working on the present tense this week (and let's be honest, for many weeks to come). Often, my students say things like, "I am swim" or "He is eat". Anywho, teaching (and im sure my students would agree , learning about) present progressive tense is about as un-fun as it can get. In the attempts to make a more fun and engaging activity, I stole an idea from a teachers book we have. The idea is to draw a big picture of a town, and all the people in the town are walking, buying, drinking, etc. doING "ing" things. They all are also looking up, but you hide what they are looking at. After you read the passage, you ask the students what they think the people are looking at, and then reveal a.....U.F.O. I'm sure in America it's a hit....quite different here.

Before school started I had searched frantically in our dictionary, so confident that they would have a word for aliens, or spaceship, maybe even U.F.O.But, no. The word for "alien" was the same word the people use here for people from New Zealand. The word for "space" meant more like...give me space. There was no extraterrestrial, spaceship, outer space. Nothing.

I was a little worried about not having the Tongan word for my spaceship, but, I figured aliens and such were universal. And though I am not a fantastic drawer, I pretty much traced the picture, so it was obviously an alien spacecraft.

When I had my grand finale in class, after working it up and creating suspense, engaging all my little students....they had no idea what it was. "Airplane?", they asked. What can you do but laugh. And wish for movies like Independence Day or something.

After class I received a reply from a text I had sent earlier to my old language coach. Vaka Vava. Vaka means boat and vava means "space between the earth and sky". Tongan is hilarious, and never quite what I want it to be.

There just aren't that many words in Tongan, so, so often, words are a combination of two other words. Confused? Me too! Although, it makes trying to communicate easier at times!


Examples:
Vaka puna- which is airplane, literally means boat that is flying/jumping.
Manu puna-which is bird, literally means animal that flies.

Maybe I've already used this example, but I love it. Me'a is thing. Ofa is love. Me'a ofa means gift, but literally a thing of love.

Manatu'i is remember, and again 'ofa is love. Manatu ofa means miss, but literally to remember love.


Tongan-sometimes you love it, sometimes you hate it.

Alissa


Buster

Over the last few months, I've learned that simple, little things make a big difference when you're trying to make a new place feel like home. And when you're trying to get used to life immersed in a different culture, this is a difficult feat. Though I may come off as a crazy "pet person" when I say this, our dog, Buster, really has made our little house on our tiny island feel like home.

Since we last wrote about him, our puppy has grown from a pint-sized, constantly biting rascal to a life-loving, good natured "teenage boy" of a dog. Compared to any American dog, he has had quite an interesting upbringing so far. As is typical, there is quite a distinction between the way a Tongan treats his dog and the way an American treats his dog. In Tonga, dogs are seen as animals that serve one purpose: they guard your house. Thus, to treat a dog with really any kind of affection is indeed a foreign concept. A large number die off when they are puppies, and when there are too many dogs roaming around, they are eaten. This may seem cruel, but to a Tongan, they are animals that serve a specific purpose, and, well, meat is meat. And I must admit, we have eaten dog, which our neighbors enjoyed immensely, and it wasn't half bad.

While it is unfortunate in many ways to be a dog in Tonga, there are up sides. They receiver total and unbridled freedom; leashes would also be considered pretty weird here. So, as he has been growing up, our spoiled brat of a puppy gets the best of both worlds. He gets plenty of love from us, and because the folks in our village know he is our dog, they treat him well (at least when we're looking). He gets first pick of any of our leftover food, chicken bones, or fish guts. And, as long as he doesn't wander too far into another dog's territory, he can roam the town all day long, free to play with anyone or anything he pleases.

Also, since school has started, Buster and I have formed even more of a special bond. If he's around the house in the morning, he usually joins me on my daily hike to Matamaka. He'll follow me to work, hang out at the school with the kids all day, and walk back with me. No leash, no commands. Just hiking with my tail-wagging, pig-chasing boy at my side. The path is usually incredibly muddy and can be tiring, but my thirty minute hike is one of my favorite parts of the day. It's a great time for some solitude and a great chance to purely enjoy where I live. And walking with Buster, unleashed and running free, makes it all the better. I think there's a part of everyone that would get a childlike sense of satisfaction when you're hiking through the woods with your pup by your side.

Mark




Buster

Over the last few months, I've learned that simple, little things make a big difference when you're trying to make a new place feel like home. And when you're trying to get used to life immersed in a different culture, this is a difficult feat. Though I may come off as a crazy "pet person" when I say this, our dog, Buster, really has made our little house on our tiny island feel like home.

Since we last wrote about him, our puppy has grown from a pint-sized, constantly biting rascal to a life-loving, good natured "teenage boy" of a dog. Compared to any American dog, he has had quite an interesting upbringing so far. As is typical, there is quite a distinction between the way a Tongan treats his dog and the way an American treats his dog. In Tonga, dogs are seen as animals that serve one purpose: they guard your house. Thus, to treat a dog with really any kind of affection is indeed a foreign concept. A large number die off when they are puppies, and when there are too many dogs roaming around, they are eaten. This may seem cruel, but to a Tongan, they are animals that serve a specific purpose, and, well, meat is meat. And I must admit, we have eaten dog, which our neighbors enjoyed immensely, and it wasn't half bad.

While it is unfortunate in many ways to be a dog in Tonga, there are up sides. They receiver total and unbridled freedom; leashes would also be considered pretty weird here. So, as he has been growing up, our spoiled brat of a puppy gets the best of both worlds. He gets plenty of love from us, and because the folks in our village know he is our dog, they treat him well (at least when we're looking). He gets first pick of any of our leftover food, chicken bones, or fish guts. And, as long as he doesn't wander too far into another dog's territory, he can roam the town all day long, free to play with anyone or anything he pleases.

Also, since school has started, Buster and I have formed even more of a special bond. If he's around the house in the morning, he usually joins me on my daily hike to Matamaka. He'll follow me to work, hang out at the school with the kids all day, and walk back with me. No leash, no commands. Just hiking with my tail-wagging, pig-chasing boy at my side. The path is usually incredibly muddy and can be tiring, but my thirty minute hike is one of my favorite parts of the day. It's a great time for some solitude and a great chance to purely enjoy where I live. And walking with Buster, unleashed and running free, makes it all the better. I think there's a part of everyone that would get a childlike sense of satisfaction when you're hiking through the woods with your pup by your side.

Mark




Kids

If you didn't already know, I'm going to be an aunt! I am thrilled beyond words, and can't wait to meet my nephew!

As I do, I have been pondering the seriousness, difficulty, joy, and wonder of being a parent. It's made me reflect, bringing laughter and tears, on my growing up years. I don't brag about them enough, so I'll say it hear again-I have the most amazing siblings! (you probably thought I was going to talk about my parents here, and they are also amazing, and I don't brag about them enough either but...we'll save that for another post). There's nothing quite like the bond of a brother and a sister. To you two: I love you a lot. Life would not have been the same without you. I would not be the same without you. I'm so proud of who you are!

Pondering life, and parenting, and children...I was reminded of a conversation I had with my parents during the month we stayed with them before our move here.

Not sure how it came up, but we were discussing children, and this question was asked, "if you could pray, or wish, or hope, for only one thing for your child, what would it be?"

Now, as we are all believers, one might think the question would be easy-that are children/child would know and follow after Christ. And of course, we all said that, and meant it, but then put it aside and came up with different answers.

I toyed with ambition, tenderheartedness. Considered my own hopes and admitted I want our children to be globally minded-aware that as Americans they are so blessed and I want them to be servant-hearted -broken by injustice and poverty and willing to love the unloved and the uncool and the ugly. But none of these, at that moment, we're my final answer.

Having just attended a Jonny Lang concert...my answer was passion. And honestly, I almost don't care what the passion is for....gosh....music, or people, or skateboarding. Passion is attractive, crucial, creates purpose and joy. Passion is important. I'm lucky, I've got it. And my passion (and my God) have directed my entire life. (seriously google Jonny Lang. Watch that white boy belt it out. I dare you not to fall under his spell. Passion. Don't you wish you had an outlet for your passion like this guy? Personal favorites include "Only a Man" ,and "Turn Around").

Mark and I plan to write a prayer for each of our children before we have/adopt them. I've written about that before somewhere in this blog. How wonderful to purposefully pray for something specific for your child from the moment they are conceived. (easier said than done, I'm sure). But also, I think, how dangerous!

Since the moment I met Soe Paw (who was 5 at the time), I have marveled at her spunkyness. I haven't so much prayed it, as thought and said, after our every interaction, "thank God she's got spunk!". She needs it! Life as a resettled, non native English speaker , poor, refugee-that's a life with a few more challenges. I have looked at her and thought, "this girl has got tenacity, has got spunk, she is going to make it (no, she is going to thrive!)".

Last week, I called her. When she got on the phone I said, "Is this Soo Paw?!" , to which that little stinker replied, "No, this is not SOO Paw, this is SO Paw." oiaue! Ouch! I've struggled with the correct pronunciation of their names for the last five years, and unfortunately, my current location and language learning is not helping. Now, maybe my favorite ten year old girl is going through an especially sassy and unmannerly phase,but I gotta admit, that's that spunk talking that I have been so glad she's got!

Parenting, I can't even begin to imagine. But I know my big sis is going to be amazing at it. I can't wait to see her in action. (and you two boy, you know...eventually).

Alissa




This happened

Proof of boredom, marks long hair, and oku ou poto he fi ulu.



I'm getting pretty good at the 'ol French braid if I do say so myself!



Thursday, March 14, 2013

Ocean

I wish I were a poet, a writer. I wish I could capture the beauty, the strength, the life, the movement, of the ocean.

Sometimes it's turquoise, and you can see all the way down to the ocean floor. Just peer right over the boat and count the fish.

Sometimes it's white, and glassy, like a mirror, almost. And the failing sunlight and the just appearing moonlight reflect off it in the most beautiful way. You really can't imagine.

When it's light blue, or glassy, or turquoise, the water is happy, safe, calm, gentle. You wouldn't know you ride on the Powerful Ocean if your hand weren't absent-mindedly playing with the water, if it didn't stretch as far as the eye could see, if the smell of wind and salt and sea weren't in the air and your hair and all over, if the gentle swaying of the boat doesn't make you succumb to the most comforting and relaxing sleep. You can honestly almost forget. Almost.

However,


Sometimes it's a deep blue, so deep and beautiful and rolling that you kind of want to jump in and roll along with it. When it's like that, I just know it wants to take me somewhere. And I wish I could abandon my days (or let's face it weeks/years) plan, and roll along with it-right out to the open sea.

Sometimes it's a deep purple, black in spots. That's when I know it's angry...it's brewing. You can't see into it all. I feel foolish and small for choosing to bother it on those days. It is not friendly, or relaxing. It is menacing and powerful, like a cobra waiting to strike. I know that during the short part of our ride while we are not safely protected in the harbor of the islands, we will ride a little slower, our faces will crease a little in worry.

And then, sometimes.
Sometimes it's that deep purple, mostly black color on the underneath part. And it looks like the water is boiling, because it is bubbling and churning and rising up and crashing down with little white waves all along the surface of the ocean. And that's when you clench your teeth, and strain your hands against the side of the boat. And you don't care that the boat paint is chipping off all over your hands, there's no way you are letting go. You remind yourself not to counterbalance the rocks of the boat, the boat will correct itself. But when it rocks to the right, and you start to slide that way, it's all you can do to keep from demanding everyone rush to the left. You arrive in town soaked, grim, tense....smiling. You feel like the boy from Count of Monte Cristo, almost wish you had screamed a "do your worst" to the Ocean. You feel awed and small and relieved....surprised even, you'd forgotten the ride could be like that.

I have ridden the same trek countless times, and it is always different. Who knew there were so many blues in the world? Who knew there were so many moods of the ocean?

I feel very lucky. I wasn't someone who dreamed of the Pacific, who honestly, had ever imagined living on a small tropical island. But I do. And my absolute favorite part of my life, is any time I get to take a boat across the majestic and mighty and serene and beautiful and menacing and powerful ocean. I am turning into a seaman.

Alissa




Kava

There are many parts of our experience here that we've become so quickly accustomed to, we forget that they are genuinely unique and interesting to outsiders. Drinking kava is one of those things.

Kava is drink made from a native root, and it is consumed, in some fashion, in most every Polynesian culture. Since the drink is created by merely mixing the ground root with water, it tastes like, well, like mildly-flavored dirt water. It's physiological effects are hard to describe; most say that it just relaxes the body, but if one drinks very large quantities, it could certainly be deemed as intoxicating (though not near to the extent of alcohol). In Tonga, kava circles are intertwined into every part of life. They are held on most nights in the villages, before and after church on Sundays, and are an honored part of any significant village event. Their formality ranges from casual gatherings to very formal, almost ritualistic events, with centuries of history behind each proceeding and spoken word. But foundationally, a "faikava" is simply a group of men sitting in a circle, passing polished coconut bowls of the drink to one another, as it is ladled out of a large, central bowl.

Kava circles primarily occur in two spots in Nuapapu: the Wesleyan hall (essentially a big room used for church events) and an outdoor bamboo tent-like structure outside the Free Church of Tonga. I definitely prefer the ambiance of the outdoor kava circle, and Amanaki, the Church of Tonga pastor, is an especially cool guy.

Being an adult male, I am encouraged to fully participate in the culture of kava drinking to whatever extent I would like. It is an obviously effective way to integrate into village life, a great place to practice my language, and to be honest, I really do like going. If I wanted to, I could drink kava almost every single night of the week - the sleep schedule of a mid-day nap for most Tongans allows for nightly kava circles that extend very late into the night. But, because I have a wife that likes to have me around, and because I am a teacher with a regular work schedule, I have chosen a more moderate approach. I generally try to shoot for one night a week, preferably a weekend night, as well as most special events.

Also, a common sight at many kava circles across the country is the presence of groups of musicians playing traditional songs on acoustic guitars and ukuleles in perfect, four part harmony. Though it is a small village, Nuapapu proudly boasts some formidable musical talent. So, most kava circles I attend are accompanied by these traditional acoustic bands, intermixing the usual kava jokes and banter with beautiful traditional music. The rhythm of the ceremony - sing a song, drink a cup, chat a little, and repeat- just simply continues for hours and hours. The simplicity and monotony of it all was hard to get used to at first, but I really have learned to appreciate it and truly enjoy it now.

The only musical instrument that we brought from the states was the ukulele, which has turned out to be an invaluable choice. Not only is Alissa learning to play it (and getting pretty good!), I often take it to kava and join in, as best I can, with the music. I have loved having this as a musical outlet for me, and it has definitely earned me some points with the guys in the village. When I am proudly introduced to a Tongan from a different village, it usually goes something like this: "This is Ma'ake, our Peace Corps, and he plays his ukulele at kava". You know, just the important stuff.

- Mark



6 months

Tomorrow we will have been in Tonga for 6 months. Six months! It's gone by so fast, it's dragged on endlessly slow. Crazy! Tomorrow we will be a quarter of the way through our journey as Peace Corps volunteers. Completely, absolutely crazy!

It has been six months since I have:

Driven a car. ( and therefore worried about said car breaking down)
Had a shower with either hot water or water pressure, (or regular access to running water).
Seen carpet.
Worn shoes (except to run in).
Been cold.
Had clean feet.
Worn a dress or skirt or pants shorter than calf-length.
Had regular access to electricity.
Been to a true "city".



It has been six months full of:

Pigs and roosters and dogs-absolutely everywhere.
Fences for said creatures one must climb over....absolutely everywhere.
Boat rides, boat rides, boat rides.
Confusion over Tongan language, and now unfortunately, the slow forgetting of the English language.
Root crops.
Scrounging around for meat to feed my carnivorous husband.
Sweating.
Ants, just..lots of ants.
Awe at the beauty of life on a tropical island.
Missing American food, family, and friends.
Church.
Dances.


Mateaki

Yesterday I was sitting in my loving room, attempting to prepare lessons for school the next day. It was lunch break, and two girls, one 5 and one 6, we're sitting in my doorway. Because they weren't annoying me, but rather, we're talking in hushed tones and only occasionally staring, I allowed them to stay in my doorway.

One of them, the 6 year old (whose name is Mateaki and whom I often consider my very best friend on this island, seriously), kept saying in her very high and almost unreal sweet and sugary voice, "Faka ofa", which translates to "how sad" , or maybe more closely to, "have pity" or "how pitiful".

[An aside: As I mentioned, Mateaki has this high, sweet voice. It is really just darling, especially when mixed with her tiny frame and long braids. She is adorable. But, after the first few weeks we lived here, I started to notice that around me, her voice got even sweeter and higher. Sweet and high to epic proportions that started to annoy the ear at times. In fact, I noticed that all the girls (ranging in age from 3-25) said my name in a very high, sing-song fashion that really started to grate on my nerves....."Liiiiiiiii-siiiiiiii", they would sing, and it was just like nails on a chalkboard. One day as I wandered around contemplating this annoying phenomenon, I shouted a greeting to a Tongan friend, and it clicked. It seems that, when I talk in Tongan, if possible, my voice (which is already sweet and high to unsatisfactory proportions) gets sweeter and higher! I am making a strong effort currently, but I found the whole thing quite funny.]

"Faka ofa", she would say, while shaking her head sadly. She kept repeating it and shaking her head, leaning towards her friend who nodded her agreement. They looked like two old ladies, just sitting there on the porch, utterly disapproving of something. Finally, I had to ask, "what's so sad, who are you taking about?".

Mateaki pitifully smiled at me, all the while shaking her head, and said, "koe. Oku ke nofo tokotaha. Faka ofa". (you. You stay here all by yourself.). It's hard to explain...but Tongans, apparently young and old, male and female alike, are very concerned anytime I am by myself. I am constantly asked where Mark is, and if I am "tokotaha"- walking tokotaha, staying tokotaha, etc. And then there's just this ebb and flow to Tongan language, that makes this story so hilarious, the delivery of her words, and the tone they were delivered in...just priceless.


Oh, it doesn't translate well, but I got such a kick out of it. I laughed and laughed and then told them all the gossip I knew, because, 6 year old girls are the most patient with barely proficient Tongan speakers.

Alissa

Thoo Myel Paw

Hello friend,

I have been thinking about you often since we moved to this island. Maybe you don't know, but I think you do, I loved you the moment we first met. Loved that we were the same age, loved your quiet strength, the nervousness that showed in your face, the grace in which you handled difficult and overwhelming circumstances. And as our friendship grew, my love and respect for you grew with it.

You were the one I first tried to teach English to. I was a horrible teacher! But you were a quick learner, a hard worker. I could see you practiced in between my visits. You always tried, even when things came out all wrong and silly. You just laughed and tried again.

Maung Way learned quicker, but every once in awhile he and I would get stuck while trying to communicate, and you would know, would put together all I was trying to say, and you'd help him out, help me out.

Remember the time I came to your apartment, uninvited and unexpected, to invite you to the Rockies game? Maung Way was gone and we were reduced to drawing pictures and acting things out, and I know you had no idea what my plan was when you piled your kids in the car with me, but I know you trusted me. We just...bonded.

Remember when Saw A K was born, and how you totally ratted me out to your husband that I almost fainted in the delivery room! Somehow I thought I had snuck that by you....but I should have known better, you catch a lot of things.

I think it was later that same week that I was supposed to help you register for his birth certificate or some such thing. Though I spoke the English and it was to me the lady at the desk spoke to, I didn't have a clue what she was talking about! You knew, though. I have always loved that.

We have shared many smiles, you and I. About your kids, whom I love with all my heart. About mark, about me, about Maung way, about America and Burma, cultural differences, food differences. We've shared many smiles, but so few words.

Like I said, I've been thinking about you a lot lately. My love and respect for you has grown tenfold during this little, self-chosen journey.

I so often feel overlooked. I so often feel unknown. I so often feel viewed as a child. I so often feel that people here think I'm unintelligent and without personality, all of this because I cannot communicate in their language! Oh, how I wish I could tell a story, share a feeling, join in on the gossip, on the laughing. I wish they knew I was sassy and spunky and funny and smart. I wish they knew I was passionate and sweet and compassionate and witty. Personality is so hard to convey, to translate, into another setting, another culture. Even when I have all the words I need in Tongan, the delivery is all wrong.

All that to say,

I'm sorry. For all the times I ignored you, that I chose your children to invest in because it was a little bit easier. Oh, I'm ashamed! It hurts to be overlooked, and I often overlooked you. But know, now, that I realize just how much more is hiding behind those shared smiles. And one day, in Karen or English, we will share many words.

Alissa




Conquering


I keep waiting for Mark to write about his birthday, and I know he will, but I can't wait any longer to say this:

My heart was beating out of my chest, the ocean raged under me, the boat waited far from me, and the dive seemed deep and long in front of me

BUT,

I did it!! I made it into Mariner's Cave! And I am completely and utterly proud!

I have not been that scared or proud in a very long time!

Alissa


Group 78



Hello group 78!

Maybe it seems a bit early to be writing this BUT, believe it or not, Mark and I received our invitation to serve in Tonga group 77 last March...a whole five months before departure! So...if you have google searched and stumbled upon this, and have already received your invitation to Tonga....Welcome! We are glad you're coming, and if you have any questions, ask away. :)



-Lisi