Happy Easter

Of all the wondrous events of Easter, of all the eternal scope of the purpose of Easter, of all the magnificence of the Atonement of Jesus Christ for all the sins of every person who has ever lived or who will ever live on the face of this earth, there are two small moments, both huge in portent, which have caused me long reflection this Easter season.

The first comes in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Christ is suffering the unimaginable agony of atoning for every sin ever committed, and he pleads with the Father to "remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done." (See Luke 22:42.) 

As a result, our loving Father in Heaven sent down an angel. This angel is portrayed in a wonderfully tender pose in the painting by the 19th Century Danish painter Carl Bloch:

Can you imagine this angel's reaction when he was assigned by the Father to go strengthen and comfort the Savior?  Can you imagine what a treasure that assignment would be?  I am pretty sure that if I was watching from heaven, I would have been just a little bit jealous of the angel who got to go down to earth and put his arms around the Savior, telling him, "You can do this." What love was shown for the Savior by our Father in Heaven, to send an angel to strengthen him and support him as he went through the most anguish anyone has ever experienced. 

That circle of support, however, shrank steadily through the events of the midnight trial and scourging, and the harrowing walk to Calgary, where more physical torture awaited the Redeemer of mankind.  The second moment that has stayed on my mind is that of Jesus on the cross, when most of his mortal friends have left, and he realizes that his Father has left him to his own devices.  "My God, my God, why hast THOU forsaken me?" Both the prophet Brigham Young and the apostle James Talmadge have said that our Father in Heaven had to turn away, had to go hide in some far corner of heaven, so as to keep from interrupting this last portion of the Atonement.  He had to hide, to allow Jesus to finish the job on his own, but the Father had also reached his limit - he was ready to end his son's suffering, but knew he needed to let the Atonement come to completion.

The Empty Tomb.  Artist unknown.

The glory of the resurrection is the reason for Easter.  The promise of living forever is given to all, and the promise of the quality of that immortality is offered to those who follow Jesus Christ's example and our Heavenly Father's commandments.  May we come to appreciate the love of our elder brother Jesus Christ and our Father in Heaven, and choose to align our lives with the words of Jesus Christ and the will of the Father.  Happy Easter.

I WILL STAY ON THE PATH

When Sister Rosemary M. Wixom, the General Primary President, was here a few weeks ago, I had the great blessing of witnessing her interaction with some Tongan Primary children.  About 60 of them sang to her in both Tongan and English, and she left the podium to go down close to the children and spoke to them personally.

She spoke with a few children individually, asking for responses to questions or for volunteers to tell her something important they wanted her to know.  She asked the group some questions for the entire group to respond to, as well.  She asked the children, “Raise your hands to show me this – how many of you want to go back to live with your Heavenly Father?”  Of course, every single hand in the little Primary choir went up.

Then she asked, “How many of you want to go there alone?”  No hands.  The children just sat there.  Sister Wixom let the silence sink in for a few sentences, and then she turned to the adults in the room.  “It is our job to live so that we can go back to Heavenly Father WITH these children.”

Many years ago, I had a very cherished interchange with some young students who exacted a promise of me to continue to live my life in such a manner that I could help them.  Because of Sister Wixom’s visit, I had a second, with the Primary children in my little ward.

Sister Wixom taught the children how to say “I will stay on the path back to my Heavenly Father” in American Sign Language.  They practiced it many times with her, and she made points to the children and to the adults in the room each time they practiced it. So a few days later in Sunday Primary, most of the older children still remembered the signs, and we reviewed it together.

We practiced the signs, and we talked about how to stay on the path.  We talked about the importance of obeying the commandments, and staying true to our promises and covenants.  And at the close of our conversation, I looked at each child in the room, and asked, “Will you promise me today that you will stay true?  Will you stay on the path?”

“Yes,” came the chorus.

“Even when it’s hard?” I asked.

“Yes,” came an even firmer reply.

“Even when you’re sad, or you’re angry, or you’re feeling like no one loves you?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

In return, I made a promise that I would remember their names in my prayers.  I told them that if it was possible, I would like to come back to Tonga in 15 years and find them being true to the gospel – serving missions, marrying in the temple, serving responsibly in callings, helping others find a testimony. 

I have two wonderful sons.  I am not yet a grandmother, but I have at least 50 souls to pray for every night - among them the much-loved students who exacted my promise those many years ago, and now, these precious Primary children.  If the Lord will allow me to keep my wits about me, these children will be in my prayers for many years to come.  And praying for them will be my best motivation to stay on the path, too.

UNIQUE EXPRESSIONS OF LOVE

Every culture honors its dead in unique ways.  Tonga is no exception.  

Tonga is an island formed by coral pushed up from the seabed.  So when you dig, you don't have far to dig before you hit solid coral.  As a result, most graves are created by creating frames for raised mounds.

Whether by forming a concrete frame or by laying blocks, graves are clearly defined by borders.  And the grave markers you see are not what most people are used to:  Here, where natural stone is incredibly expensive, families use fabric and wood.







The marker of choice is a quilt.  It's far too warm, most of the year, to consider using a quilt on a bed, but somehow quilts have become quite popular as beautiful grave markers.  This quilt takes the names of a husband and wife and frames them with depictions of the heilala flower, a tiny flower unique to Tonga.  We have also seen graves lit at night by solar-powered lights, and even Christmas-style lights defining the border of a grave.

With no law to limit the location of graves, little cemeteries populate each village and indeed, many private homes, such as this one.  This family couldn't afford a concrete or block frame for the grave, so they built a natural fence around it.  The bushes provide color and some protection from the wind, and the posts and chicken wire keep out the animals.



Almost all graves are topped with sand.  And what happens when the wind blows it away?  We go get more.  The Tongan government is beginning to get concerned about illegal "sand mining", the theft of sand by the truckload (!) from coastal beaches.  This little island cannot afford to see its beaches eroded - we have few enough of them here to begin with.

 Families who can afford it can bury their relatives in style - here is a concrete frame topped with ceramic tiling, blackstone rock, and permanently placed pots for silk flowers. This is one of the few polished granite markers I have seen on the island.  But all graves are decorated with flowers, some with lace tablecloths, and some with hand-knitted afghans.  The dead are protected in a place of beauty.  There are a few LDS missionaries buried here, two who died in the Spanish flu outbreak in 1919 (the flu took two years to make it to Tonga, but it got here), and two others who died of other illnesses in the 1930s.  Their graves are tended, too.

And again, if the family can afford it, the grave is protected from the elements by a pavilion roof.  This will help the sand from being washed away in a sudden rain or a severe storm, and it will also keep the silk flowers from fading quickly in the hot sun. 

And it provides shelter for mourners.  When Tonga's king died last March, we got an extended view of the mourning traditions here in Tonga.  Students tended small fires surrounding the palace  all night long, the night before his body was brought to the royal tombs and the king's body was laid in its final resting place.  So, too, is the tradition with all deaths. A round-the-clock vigil is kept at the gravesite for anywhere between 3 and 10 days, (noblemen sat under a pavilion roof all day and all night 100 days for the king)and gifts are offered to the family of the deceased, although in a totally different perspective, the family of the deceased feeds visiting relatives for many days after receiving the gifts.

Even while tending a vigil fire, teens can be counted on to be cool!

The love and respect shown for one's elders here does not end at death.  Families are quite often seen cleaning up the cemetery, placing faded quilts with bright, new ones (out of respect for the dead, the old quilts are destroyed), and replacing and rearranging flowers.  Life may be a little more subsistence-oriented here, but the bonds of love stretch beyond death.  Tongans have that lesson to teach us all.  

ENDURE WITH LOVE IS THE CULTURE

The entrance to Liahona High School, dedicated by LeGrand Richards in 1953.
Pretty impressive by any standards.

Because of the wet climate, concrete sidewalks
 are everywhere.

Liahona High School in Tonga is an interesting mix of approaches and cultures, both in the way the organization is structured and in the way that people relate to each other.  One of the most British features is that it functions as a boarding school for about 80 of its students, who live in dormitories during the school year.  But imagine for a moment going to a boarding school, when the only thing you know that is bigger than your house is the ocean.  You come from a remote island, with very little exposure to even the still-developing standard of living here on the “big” island of Tongatapu.  

Major walkways are shelters from the hot sun and torrential rains,
regular features in the tropics.

So the shock of seeing concrete buildings, paved roads and sidewalks is dizzying, much less the shock of changing from family surroundings to a school of 1000 students.  Thankfully, the shared culture of the LDS Church helps students have an anchor here, and somehow they endure challenges that would have overwhelmed me at their age.

All students in Tonga wear school uniforms.
Liahona's colors are green and white, and
the two stripes represent the phrase
"by study and by faith,"the school motto.

Take Selu (SAY-loo) for example.  She comes from one of the other islands, a small island called Ha’apai (Hah-ah-PIE).  Her parents struggle to provide her with money for tuition, and since the kitchen provides two meals a day, breakfast and supper, Selu often goes without lunch, to save money.  But so do most of her friends, unless they buy some Ramen noodles or share a loaf of bread, two of the cheapest options for lunch at the store across the street from campus.

Selu spends the whole school year here, because her parents can only afford to bring her home on the ferry at the end of the school year.  So during the week-long breaks after each quarter and semester, she stays with relatives here on Tongatapu.  She misses her parents, especially her mother, but accepts the reality of spending ten months a year away from them. 

Selu has “dorm parents” who try to support her, but she is one of 40 girls in the dorm, so she has to create her own system of support.  Fortunately, the families here at Liahona spend a great deal of time with the dorm students.  Because of this support, and because of the way some of her teachers have extended themselves to her, Selu has found ways to succeed in school and be happy here.

Boys all over the Pacific islands wear a type of
wrap-around skirt. In Tongan it is called a tupeno.
Much cooler than trousers.

Sila (SEE-lah), one of the boys in the boys’ dorm, has had to work harder to find success.  He struggles with his English, since no one in his family speaks English at home, but he is expected to function in English during his classes.  He wants to do well, but is often frustrated with his lack of skills with the English language.

Sila’s dorm parents know that he is not the only boy who struggles.  So they have established a new system for the boys, assigning them in multi-age groups in rooms.  That way, 14-year old Sila has some older brothers in the dorm room with him.  These  older brothers have been trained to be guides and role models for Sila, and they take their responsibilities seriously.  Some of them serve as district leaders, a term borrowed from Mormon missions. District leaders are given the responsibility to make sure several room groups are functioning properly – that boys are where they ought to be, that problems are solved, that needs are addressed.  Sila’s  older roommates help him with his homework, teaching him the English words he needs to succeed.  They help him read his assignments, but they also spend ten minutes every morning and ten minutes every evening reading scriptures together.  They pray together, in their small groups, and all the boys in the dorm meet at 7 am every morning for a hymn, a prayer, and to share a spiritual thought. 

Saturday morning is not an opportunity to sleep in, either.  These dorm students are kept busy all week long.  Twice a month, before sunrise,  Sila and all the dorm students  go together to the LDS temple to serve by performing vicarious baptisms for dead relatives, to offer their deceased ancestors the choice of accepting the fullness of the gospel in the spirit world, while they await resurrection. The feelings and experiences they share about the chance to serve their ancestors are deep and frankly, too sacred to share here.  Just know that they come back from the temple happy.   

On the other Saturday mornings, Sila and the other  dorm boys go out to the Church farm and work “on the plantation”.  They usually spend about 4 hours there, then they are granted the afternoon off.  And at church on Sunday, Sila is surrounded by older brothers, who make sure he understands the lessons and feels the spirit of the messages he hears.  

I am amazed as I watch the dorm parents and their dorm students, that a couple, with children of their own, would be willing to take on an extra 40 children for ten months.  I smile as I watch the bonds of love that develop between these students and their dorm parents, their teachers, and the families who connect with them at church.  One of the “golden principles” of Tongan culture is love, and I see love in action every day here.  Life is challenging wherever you go, but because of their shared values, these teachers and students, these leaders and young men and women, are taking on the challenges together. 

FAREWELLS AND MIRACLES

We have had the pleasure of working with Elder and Sister Sanders, a senior missionary couple who accepted a humanitarian assignment here in Tonga.  Last March, we were a bit amazed (but not really surprised) when these two volunteered to take on a second assignment, that of inspecting, supplying and maintaining the 50+ little buildings called missionary quarters, where the young missionaries live here.  

Elder Sanders always wanted to get up-close and personal.
 Here he is inspecting a village water tank.

Sister Sanders knew better than to try to climb the
water tank ladder in a long skirt!

Well, the bad news is that Elder Sanders has developed some serious medical issues, and they have been sent home to Washington State.  There is a hole in our hearts, but we know that because of the events that have happened in the last week, the Lord has more in mind for this fine man and his wonderful wife.

Because of the limited medical care here in Tonga, the area supervisors flew Elder and Sister Sanders to New Zealand for a hospital stay and screening, to diagnose his trouble.  Our mission nurse, Sister Johnston, had been trying to get Elder Sanders to New Zealand for weeks, but he kept postponing the trip because of this project or that.  But when Elder Johnston got an abscess that would not respond to antibiotics, he was put on an urgent evacuation to New Zealand, and the mission president told Elder Sanders (and his wife) to go, too.  Tickets were purchased Friday evening for the flight to Auckland Saturday morning.

One of their few days off, at the beach.

While waiting in the airport in Tonga, the four missionaries met an LDS American couple who explained they had brought their adopted child, Tongan by birth, to meet his birth mother and experience some of the culture that was his heritage.  A pleasant conversation ensued, then everyone got on the plane and thought nothing more of the encounter.  They should have.

Arriving late in the evening, the missionaries decided to wait until morning to arrange treatment.  The next morning they found themselves at a nearby hospital emergency room, and the admitting doctor tried to explain that patients were not admitted on Sundays.  Then the supervising doctor came in to see what was going on.  The supervisor was, of course, the man the missionaries had met in the airport.  Turns out he works at three different hospitals, and “just happened” to be on duty at this particular hospital that morning.  Both men were quickly screened, and Elder Sanders was admitted as an inpatient. Miracle #1: check.

That evening, Elder Johnston found his abscess had begun draining.  This abscess, which had been in danger of going systemic and causing serious bodily harm within hours, simply began draining, once Elder Sanders was admitted. Miracle #2: check.

Elder Sanders’ prognosis is good.  The specialist in New Zealand has a brother who is exactly the kind of doctor Elder Sanders needs; and he just “happens” to practice in Elder Sanders’ hometown.  The Sanders, who started their journey home on Monday, had two appointments with doctors before they even got on the plane, and medical coverage assured from the Church.   Miracle #3: check.

The Sanders live in a rural area, and with the coming recovery period, Sister Sanders worried that because of the needs of their home, Elder Sanders would ignore doctors’ counsel to limit his activities.  Elder Sanders is a worker; he cannot sit for any length of time – he needs to be up and doing.  But Sister Sanders is very aware that in order for her husband to heal completely, he has to follow medical advice and avoid strenuous activity for three months.  Not easy for a man who has worked his own land and been a plumber for 40 years. 

Besides, before coming out on their mission, the Sanders rented out their house, and the contract is not up for another nine months.  Where would they live?

A couple of friends emailed the Sanders telling them they were going to travel to their daughter’s home, that they would be gone up to a year.  The Sanders looked at each other, smiled, and emailed a message:  do you want renters while you’re gone?  The return message began:  “The key is in the garage, the truck is ready to go, the cupboards are pretty empty – do you want our son to shop before you get here?”   And because these friends understand the power of pets during recuperation, they left their border collie behind, to stay with the Sanders.  Miracle #4: check.

Those are not all the miracles, but you get the idea.  The Lord takes care of His missionaries.  I believed that before, but now, with this experience, I have first-hand knowledge.  And Elder Sanders is not surprised.  He told us: “Why shouldn’t we expect miracles?  We’re out here doing what the Lord wants us to do.  We’re out here obeying our leaders, doing our best, and serving the people the way the Lord would serve them, if He were here.  So why should we be surprised when miracles happen?”

I am grateful for the faith and the faithfulness of those beside whom I serve.  It is hard on us to see the Sanders leave, but we trust that the Lord will continue to be mindful of this senior missionary, that his recovery may be complete, that he will be able to serve in other ways during the rest of his time here on earth.  And our friendship, our fellowship together, will continue to grow and develop.  Our paths may divide, but our hearts will remain entwined.  And we will continue to expect miracles.

The Sanders and our mission president and his wife.  

LAND OF WONDERS

Seems a man from Texas came to Tonga some years back, curious to compare farming techniques.  After spending a day on a Tongan “plantation”, the word for farm here, the Texan wanted to impress the Tongan with the difference in scale.  “This has been a wonderful experience,” said the Texan.  “But I want you to understand, it takes me an entire day to drive the perimeter of my ranch.”   The Tongan raised his eyebrows twice in acknowledgement.  “Oh yes,” said the Tongan, “I had a car like that once.”  (No offense intended, my Texan friends!)

Tonga is tiny, but it has its share of wonders.  And some of them are absolutely jaw-dropping. This tiny island nation, spread out over miles and miles of ocean, has many delights for the eyes, ears, noses, taste buds and fingers for those who will take the time to notice.

Let me remind you that if you added up all land of the 177 islands and islets that make up Tonga, you’d add up to a little more than four Districts of Columbia.  I live on the “big” island of Tongatapu, all 100 square miles of it – the size of DC and Arlington, Virginia put together. I have not seen all that this island has to offer, by any means.  But I have been awed by what I have seen.

To the east of Tonga, under the water, lies the Tonga trench, the second deepest point in the Pacific.  The sea floor here is the northeast juncture of the Australian and Pacific tectonic plates, and the Pacific plate is being driven beneath the Australian plate in a process called subduction.  Because of this process, there is frequent seismic activity in the area – we just had a 5.9 earthquake last week.  There are even underwater volcanoes being swallowed in this process.  I have been fascinated with the research going on that is documenting this dramatic event.  Here's a link to a news report from last November:

http://youtu.be/l_xbg_zU8TA

And we can visit the blowholes just minutes from our apartment and office, and be treated to a marvelous display each morning and evening.  From July to October, humpback whales frequent these waters, calving, nursing and tending their young.  We can see the whale spouts and flukes as these magnificent creatures surface, and now and then we are treated to a breach, when the whales jump out of the water, seemingly for the simple joy of doing it.  Mothers spend between 3 and 4 months here helping their babies grow, before they return to the Antarctic waters rich in krill, their main food supply.  The baby whales nurse and grow tremendously during these few months, but the mothers do not even feed.  Wow.  My biggest frustration is that the whales are always a few seconds ahead of my camera!

Closeup of a blossom cluster

My favorite perfume on the islands is the frangipani tree.  Even when this tree drops its leaves for the dormant season (I can hardly call it winter here), it keeps blooming, and the  palm-sized blossoms, either pink or yellow with white, have a gentle aroma that just makes me smile.

This tree is about 10 feet high, and loaded with pink blossoms.

This island of Tongatapu is proof to me that God has a sense of humor.  Even though this island is only 30 miles end to end, there are five different kinds of potato that grow here.  And one of them grows on a tree!  From “millimeter potatoes” that I grew up calling new potatoes to purple sweet potatoes to breadfruit (youth basketball-sized globes that indeed grow on trees) to the two-foot long “ufi” (OOO-fee), like in the picture.  Tongans can always get their starch, to go with their “lu”, corned beef wrapped in a thick, spinach-like leaf – a favorite at most family gatherings. Garden vegetables here are quite pricey, but you can always feed your family a kind of potato, and fill those empty stomachs. 

This is a screen capture of a Google Earth image.  

The Pigeon’s Doorway, or Hufangalupe in Tongan, is what happens when water, wind and erosion combine on the face of a cliff.  What looks like a sinkhole from the air is actually a chasm carved by the waves, with a natural bridge of rock and soil over a huge opening where the ocean rushes in.  

Low tide under the natural bridge formed by
 the rocks that  the waves can't reach.

The limestone cliffs are over 100 feet tall at the ocean’s edge, and even on the calmest day the waves crash with a humbling energy against the rocks. The volume is impressive; you have to walk away from the cliffs’ edge a good ways before you can talk to each other. 

Free-range pigs - a common sight here!

And everywhere, everywhere, are the birds, the fruit bats called flying foxes, the crickets that chirp every night year round, the varieties of floating jewels called dragonflies, the timid dogs and cats that scavenge for food, the free-roaming sows and piglets filing across the street – Tonga is a wondrous experience for me.  Can you blame me for wanting to stay forever?

I TRUST YOU

I am leading a course in effective teaching, and last week’s class included a discussion on making students feel safe in our classrooms.  I want to share one story shared with us during this part of the course.

I will call the student Siaosi (See-ah-OH-see).  He is in Kili’s homeroom, and she has a delightful relationship with her students.  She is definitely the boss of her classroom, but her students look forward to time in her room.  Her homeroom students begin the day with a scripture, a hymn, and a prayer.  Kili watched through the beginning of the school year (remember, school begins in January here), and after a few months, she noted that Siaosi, who is not LDS, was comfortable with the routine and began asking Siaosi to participate in the devotional routine.  He accepted, and contributed well to the good feelings in class.


Well, a while back, Siaosi missed three days of school.  When he returned, he explained that he had been in jail.  He had been waiting for a bus to school, and some boys from another school started teasing the Liahona boys, and the teasing turned to bullying, and the bullying resulted in a fight.  Even though Siaosi had been on the sidelines, he had been taken in by the police and kept overnight.  

Bringing 1200 students to school on privately-owned,  unscheduled buses means a transportation headache for anyone, even under the best of circumstances.  Throw in some teenaged impulsivity and you have an even larger problem...

A lot of students get transported to and from school in the open air!

When he was released, he walked to his home, only to find his clothing in a pile outside the front door. His mother, talking to him through a closed front door, told him she didn’t want him at home any more, because he would be a bad influence on his younger brother.  


Siaosi found another place to stay, and continued to come to school.  After a few weeks, he asked Kili for help.  “I trust you,” he told her.  After a long discussion, he picked up the telephone, and dialed his mother’s number.  “Hello, mom.  It’s me, Siaosi.  I just called to tell you I love you and I miss you.”  He hung up the phone softly - his mother had said nothing. Kili assured him that she would continue to support him, and promised him that she would help him find a way to make things better. Siaosi left her classroom encouraged by her words and actions.


A few more days went by, but then one morning Siaosi stopped in to whisper to Kili, “Thank you very much.”  No further details were given – the class was about ready to start and both teacher and student were unavailable.  But when all the classes took their lunch break at 1:00, Siaosi came back to Kili’s classroom to explain:  “I’m back home!  My mom let me come back home, and everything’s better.”

Students who feel safe in Kili’s room know that she will do everything I her power to keep them safe, physically, intellectually, and emotionally.  What does that say about effective teaching?  What can I do for one student today, for one person, to make them feel safe, to make them tell me, “I trust you?”  I think those are the three most powerful words a teacher can ever hear.

SOMETIMES YOU CHOOSE

Sometimes you choose, sometimes you’re chosen.

Jim and I chose to come to Tonga.   We continue to choose to be here.  We choose to work in education.  We choose to strive with these teachers, to help them make progress in becoming more effective teachers.  We choose to work with some very humble people, people who don’t need material items in order to choose to be happy themselves.  We choose to struggle to understand these people whose social habits are so different, who mature at different rates, who come to expect very different things of themselves than do most middle-class Americans.  And we continue to choose to learn from these people, to listen to them, to try to understand their viewpoints, so that we can be effective in our work with them.

But there is another missionary couple working here in Tonga who did not volunteer for this country.  They simply put in their application with the comment “send us where we are needed.”  Elder and Sister Bean are a humble, loving, considerate pair of people who would blossom anywhere they were planted, but there is a design apparent in their assignment here.

Some years back, Elder Bean’s father Eugene, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, got to the point where he needed a companion caregiver in his home.  The family hired a ‘Ofa, a young mother who happened to be Tongan, to come live with Eugene. She brought her young children with her, and was paid to attend to Eugene’s needs.  The experience of having young children in his home made Eugene’s last years very sweet; there were days when he didn’t know the woman and her children, but he didn’t care, for he had people around him to offer his love to, and to receive their love in return. The bond between Eugene and this young family grew very strong.

In time, Eugene passed away, and in his memory, ‘Ofa gave the family a gift; a very warm mink blanket.  Elder and Sister Bean took the generous gift, and placed it across the guest bed in the basement bedroom, where its warmth would be appreciated.  The blanket became known as the ‘Ofa blanket –  along with being her name, ‘ofa is the Tongan word for love.. The blanket became a favorite both of the Bean’s small grandchildren and their adult children, and was prized by all in the family.

The Beans filled out their mission application, and were called to serve here in Tonga.  Smiling at the memory of their association with the young Tongan mother, they looked forward to serving others like her.  But when they got to their little apartment here at Liahona, they had one more surprise.  The ‘ofa blanket was spread across their bed.  

No, it wasn’t the exact same blanket, but it was the twin of the one that had represented the love of a Tongan family for Eugene.  Now Elder and Sister Bean have a sweet reminder of the hearts of the Tongans in their home here, and that reminder has strengthened their commitment to serve.  

Another senior missionary, in her parting message to us last Sunday night, counseled us that “a lot of Palangi people try to change Tonga.  You won’t change Tonga, but Tonga will change you.” The longer I am here, the truer that statement becomes.  We thought we had chosen Tonga, but perhaps, just perhaps, like the Beans, Tonga chose us.

The Mighty Coconut

One  evening a couple of weeks ago, a humble family taught me a lesson.  Because of their willingess to teach about ten Palangi missionaries, I will never look at the coconut in the same way.

Before coming to Tonga, when someone mentioned the word “coconut”, my mind quickly connected to German chocolate cake and Mounds and Almond Joy candy bars.  Fine.  But there’s a lot more, as Fipi and her family taught us.

In this picture, one of the other senior missionaries stands beside Fipi as she explains to us.  Like most native cultures, Tongans find a use for every part of the coconut.  She took some of the dry fibers that cover the shell of a coconut, and showed us one tiny part of the process used to make coconut fibers into ropes.  This is what Tongans used to use to make their fishing nets, to make their ropes to tie up plants and animals.  Rope from coconut fiber – the first revelation of the night!

Coconuts will float on water almost indefinitely.  Scientists think that is one way that most of the islands of the South Pacific have coconut palms.  A coconut can ride the ocean current from Tonga to Hawaii and still be able to sprout, thrust roots down into the sand and begin to grow towards the sky.  Pretty impressive. 

Next, we got to try to crack open coconuts.  One of the younger missionaries who came with us (still wearing his Tongan “ta’ovala” and “tupeno” – the traditional mat and men’s wraparound skirt) is shown here using what has become standard equipment in modern Tonga – a welded piece of equipment that basically uses a tire rim and an angled steel tube.  You’re supposed to just push the coconut down the tube, and it will pop the coconut open.  This is one of three ways to open a coconut.  You can also use the time-honored hammer approach, or if the coconut is still green and all you want is the milk, you just nail a hammer into one of the “eyes” of a coconut, and stick in a straw.  Poof, drink and cup all in one.

Once the older, non-milky coconut is cracked open, it’s time to shave the white meat out.  In this picture you can see one of our sister missionaries sitting on a narrow bench, straddling a large bowl.  But what you can’t see is that she holds the coconut over a wide serrated blade that is welded to the frame of the bench.  As she pulls the coconut back and forth over the blade, the meat is shaved off and falls into the bowl.  Even Fipi’s kids could do this very easily – the rest of us worked up a sweat in no time!

Did you know that if a coconut is allowed to sprout, it changes the quality of the meat inside?  I remember learning about how beans grow, that the “meat” of the bean is actually food for the sprout as it grows.  Well, a coconut is a giant version of that bean.  Some families allow their coconuts to sprout, and then crack them open, for a spongy, crumbly coconut meat that has a totally different taste. The Tongans call it “coconut brain” – I like the taste, but the name sounds like a middle schooler’s nightmare!

Well, after trying the green coconut milk, and the coconut brain, it was time to actually eat some solid coconut meat.  Fipi took out a knife (one that Crocodile Dundee would have been proud of) and sliced the meat while still inside the shell, and then simply popped the meat out of the shell to serve us several pieces. Delicious.  But I stayed clear of the knife, even though Fipi’s eight-year old son later performed some of his own coconut tricks with a bush knife (Tongan for machete!). 

Oh, and the coconut husk?  Either it’s used for fuel for fires at the frequent family outdoor feasts, or it is turned into souvenirs for tourists.  I haven’t seen a coconut bra in Tonga – people here are far too modest for that, most people swim in street clothing – but my husband and I have our own coconut souvenirs – holders for large name cards from a workshop we attended in March.

Okay, okay, since the story involves a coconut, I have to tell the first story every Palangi missionary hears in Tonga.  First frame of the comic strip:  a missionary comes to visit a very isolated home.  Second frame: as he walks into the home, he doesn’t duck down far enough to get through the door, and he bumped his forehead.  “Too low,” says the missionary quietly.  The family is impressed, because in Tongan, “tulo” is a very polite way to say “pardon me.”  Third frame: the missionary visits for a while, and then the family offers to get him a green coconut to drink.  Fourth frame: the missionary accompanies the father outside, and the father promptly climbs up the very mature coconut tree.  The missionary watches, and it’s his turn to be impressed.  The father keeps climbing, nearly a hundred feet in the air.  “Oh, too high,” calls out the missionary.  BONK.  Final frame:  the missionary is flat on the ground, having been hit in the head with a coconut, because “tu-ai” is Tongan for “idiot.”  Haha.  So next time you’re under a coconut tree, watch your commentary very carefully!