Self-Sustanance (Mostly)

We’ve been in the Kingdom of Tonga for just a few days now, and it’s clear that these islands are like nothing we’ve experienced to date in the South Pacific. After some discussion and reflection, Jennifer and I realized that these islands – unlike the Marquesas, the Tuomotus, the Societies, the Cooks, and Niue – are, for the most part, self-sustaining. Unlike these others, they do not depend on massive subsidies from their territorial overseers; in the case of the first three sets of islands, the French, and for the latter two, New Zealand. This history of self-reliance seems reflected in the self-assured nature of the locals we’ve visited, and infuses the island with its sense of self-aware dignity.

The Kingdom of Tonga. Even its name reflects its sharp difference from virtually every other South Pacific island group, whether in Polynesia, Micronesia, or Melanesia: the Kingdom of Tonga was never colonized (though the British, through their missionaries, did play a heavy role in its economic and social development during the late 1800s) and Tonga has been able to keep free of what our first President called “entangling alliances.” It’s a mixed blessing. The island is noticeably poorer than any of the others we’ve visited, manifested more by a gap between the well-off and the not-so-well-off, than by any absolute measure. Some of the Marquesan islands clearly had a lower standard of living, but there, the population’s income levels were much more homogenous.

Another difference is the prevalence of US and European shop owners, located along the docks and small plazas that line the harbor of Neiafu, here in the Vava’u Group. The entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well; to the likely dismay of copyright lawyers and Hollywood producers, there are at least two “burn-to-order” DVD shops here in town, each offering the latest in Hollywood movies for just 1 US dollar each. Want a DVD? No problem; it’ll just take a few minutes.

Tonga is made up of four large island groups; we’re in the north central group, and just south of us, where we intend to visit in a week or so, is the Ha’apai Group. We chose to skip the northern group – the Nuias, simply because it was too many miles out of the way of our general westward direction. Vavau’s geography resembles that of Maine or the Pacific Northwest: deep channels bisecting cliff-lined, tree-covered humps of rock that sprinkle the waters.

Tongans give new meaning to the word “friendly;” Captain Cook, years ago, termed these islands the Friendly Islands, and today, the moniker remains apt: quick with a smile, a wave, and an attitude of outgoing engagement, we’re re-thinking our baseline definition of friendliness here. We have spent the last few days wandering the dusty streets of this town, and this morning visited the local market to pick up some kava.

Kava is the evening beverage and social tradition of choice here, and is made by skinning the roots of the kava tree, mashing the roots, and then using a cloth to squeeze the juice into water. The now-adulterated water is poured into a large wooden bowl that sits on the ground, and coconut cups are dipped in and passed around in a ceremonious fashion. Kava is a narcotic, slightly sedative, and numbs the tongue and mouth and leaves a not-unpleasant glow to the evening’s festivities. It’s been a part of social culture for centuries here, and when we leave here to visit some of Tonga’s smaller islands and their villages, we need kava root to give to the local chiefs as a welcoming gift. In return, he will grant us access to his village and island, and assume responsibility for our “protection.”

This is also whale country, and the waters are filled with humpback whales that come north from the waters of the Antarctic to mate, give birth 11 months later, and then fatten up their calves before returning to the colder waters. Somewhat controversially, the Tongans swim with the whales, and we’ve already heard several stories of people’s life-changing experiences of swimming within meters of these huge graceful creatures. Each spoke in mystical terms of being eye-to-eye with a bigger-than-a-fist eyeball of a whale. The objections come from those who (legitimately, in our view) view whales as sentient creatures, and who oppose the intrusive behavior of these excursions. After some discussion, Jennifer and I decided that whales, sentient and aware, have had both the means and opportunity to object to humans’ watery adjacency via a flick of their dorsal fins. Since there have been no instances of aggressive whale behavior, we figure they’re OK with us visiting them in their home, and we’re set for a day-long trip on Saturday.

Tomorrow, we dive the famous corals and caverns of these islands, and if it seems like we’re doing many fewer boat chores than in Tahiti, you’d be right. Ile de Grace is humming along rather smoothly, and apart from normal cleaning and upkeep, we’ve been blessed with a well-functioning vessel.

Next post: reports on our diving and whale swimming adventures. Keep your cards and letters coming; we miss all our friends and family, and would love to hear from you!

[Note: This post was written by Jon, but posted by Jennifer because she's on shore where there's internet and Jon is on the boat reading a book and watching the laundry dry. :) ]