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.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
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
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
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
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