Island Dogs

Good God, I hate them. Hate is a strong word, I know, but I’m just reciprocating their own feelings for me. I wrote that they all got together one day and decided they hate me. And there are only three kinds of dogs in Tonga:

First, there are wild dogs. These dogs don’t just wander the streets, they also hide in the bushes, and they are mangy, feral, ill tempered, and usually run in packs. You know in the bloopers at the end of Talladega Nights Will Ferrel says one of the problems facing America is packs of wild dogs that control most of the major cities? That is Tonga.

Second, there are guard dogs. Theft is high in Tonga, and with so many wild dogs around, a lot of people just throw some scraps of food at them until they start to guard their property. These are the kind I run into most when I’m biking – they always include the road as part of their territory. There is nothing I have found that will pump more adrenalin into your system then turning a corner and hearing three dogs on the other side of a fence growl and foam at the mouth as they begin running in what looks like the start of a race at the track. That’s because Tongan fences do not include working gates, and so seconds later you can bet those dogs will pop out of the yard at sixty miles an hour looking for you. When I ran into several such dogs on my way to the west coast, my bike chain had just jumped into the grove between second and first gear (as it sometimes does on the pothole filled roads). Trying to shift it up with dogs snapping at my ankles was…terrifying. I employed a theory I had been working on – cars in Tonga don’t slow down for dogs, and once a dog gets hurt he realizes that he should walk a little faster crossing the road. I gave the closest, meanest looking dog a solid kick in the nose, taking care not to lose my toes in the process. In that instant he looked right into my eyes and got ten times angrier. My chain finally hopped up to second gear, I immediately shifted it to third, and biked like never before.

The third kind of dog in Tonga is the dead dog. All three smell bad, but this is the only kind that poses no immediate danger to me.

Goofus and Doofus, along with Cat. Obviously I haven’t learned their real names, but these animals (and the dogs’ mother) patrol our apartment and are the only mammals in Tonga (bats included) that like me.

The West Coast or Bust

Although Tonga’s capital, Nuku’alofa, is the biggest “city” in the Tongan isles, there are upwards of sixty villages on Tongatapu, the island I live on. Those are just the ones they bothered to include on the Places of Interest map I bought when I got here. Every few days I circle another one or two on the map as “villages I’ve biked to,” but this Saturday I made plans to reach the west coast. I’ve been to the south coast already, but the west coast promises to deliver Tongatapu’s best beaches and resorts, the “flying fox sanctuary,” and, according to my map, “Christianity Landing Place,” which I hoped would be way cooler than “Captain Cook Landing Place” - a plaque. It’s more the trip than the destination anyways; I really just wanted to circle the twelve villages between me and the northwest tip of the island. It’s about 25 km from where I live (a village called Halaleva), meaning a 50 km round trip. That being said, once I’m on a road I am easily distracted by other roads and the thought, “I wonder where that one goes…”

I’d biked to the village of Fatai a few days earlier, which was on the main road leading to the west coast, so I headed there again. On the way, I saw a sign pointing to the “green waste recycling centre,” and my first distraction. I turned and followed a twisty road for about forty minutes, even after I passed the compost piles that made up the recycling centre (I don’t know what I expected…but a facility that only allowed green-coloured waste would be just crazy enough to work in Tonga). At first I was sure that I was heading West parallel to the main road, but eventually began to wonder if the roads would ever meet up. In typical Tongan fashion the many km long road ended as a driveway to a house in the middle of nowhere (though I’m sure Andre would point out that it’s somewhere in the owner’s lives). I biked back to where I had gotten sidetracked.

After a run in with a dog pack (dogs in Tonga got together at some point and all agreed they hated me), a surge of adrenalin and the discovery of the main (paved) road put me back on track. Awhile later I was as far as the village of Te’eliu. I would find that out later, having left the map at home – where’s the fun if I know exactly where I am! There, I saw another main-looking road headed “left,” and growing bored of the same straight road, I turned. For a “main” road, it was devoid of cars – I never saw any, but I did see plenty of bats. On a side note, almost every coconut tree in Tonga seems to be a “flying fox sanctuary.” There’s a massive gathering of them in a coconut grove near my apartment, and I don’t know where the idea that they’re night creatures comes from (science?), but Tongan bats don’t seem to know that. They fly around over my head with a never-ending screech-chatter whenever I pass.

The road ended at the south coast, officially turning my western trip into a plan for another day. I biked from Hā’utu to ‘Utulau (a village sponsored by the Japanese government, as every “this facility provided in friendship by Japan” sign suggested). Then, past the Princess’ residence and north towards home. And that’s when my rear tire blew. I heard it, and I felt it, but I tried to ignore until a few minutes later I was biking on the rim and got off. From there, I walked the 5 km left to my apartment, shaking my head at the many tire repair shops I passed who followed the Tongan custom of closing for the day at lunch on Saturdays.

Ready to roll, and, I’ll be the first to admit, looking pretty sharp

For the “off-road” experience in Tonga, you just have to stay on the roads


It was at this time that I began to wonder if the road I was on would ever meet up with the main road, and for kicks, took a picture

Cursing the Tongan tire god; though, now that I was home, knowing my tire repair kit would make short work of the problem

Oh, and when I passed the Princess’ residence, I was lucky beyond belief to see her white tigers outside. The picture is at a distance, but it was as close as I dared get for fear of being mauled!

I Visit the Palace

Finally. I’ve been in the country for over two months. I just got back my passport, with a multiple-entry visa good until March 2010. And, I’m one of a handful of palangi in the country. Yet, despite all that, I hadn’t yet been summoned to the Palace! On Friday, that all changed. After having biked past the Palace many times getting no more than a salute from the army soldiers who double as Palace guards (in full jungle camo, no less), this time the iron gate opened for me. I found out at a school assembly on Monday that I would be granted entry. In preparation for the new king’s coronation week (much delayed after 2006’s riots), my school had been assigned a very specific duty. We would take care of…hiko? Huh? “What’s hiko?” I asked another teacher, hoping it was something cool like feeding the princess’ white tigers. “Hiko is yard work, garbage clean-up.” “Oh.” All the same, I was excited. The new King would officially receive his crown soon in a coronation ceremony, and work was being done all over the country to get ready. For some reason, the assigned area of work for ‘Api Fo’ou (my school) was the Palace grounds. And not around the outside gates of the Palace. We would actually be working inside the grounds around the Palace itself. On Friday, I arrived in my shorts. It was hot hot hot outside, and I knew I’d be working outside, so it seemed natural. It wasn’t until we began moving through the gate that another teacher joked I might not be allowed inside in shorts. This was news to me, and there was actually a discussion in Tongan with the soldier working gate duty, “something something palangi?” “Palangi something something,” the soldier replied, and waved me in. Fifteen minutes later, I was back outside the gate. After entering the Palace grounds, I joined another teacher and a group of students who were working on deweeding the gardens. A few minutes later, two Tonga officers (in their jungle camo) approached me. One said something in Tongan, and I replied that I could not yet speak Tongan. “Um, go home please,” the other officer translated. Then, in full view of a thousand students who quickly stopped working to watch, an officer walked on either side of me as I was escorted to the gate. At the gate, I saw the soldier who had let me in, and asked him what exactly was going on. While he explained that I was not properly dressed, the school administrator argued my case in Tongan with the officers. They told me to wait at the gate. Soldiers came and went, talking with the officers and the teacher, always in Tongan so I didn’t know what they said, but I knew what it was about. Meanwhile, students from my classes and my Ultimate team continually approached the officers and pleaded. I caught words like “Taniela,” my name in Tongan, and “historia,” that I was the school’s history teacher, but they were waved off. Finally something was said to the gate guard, and he told me I would have to leave. I asked what I needed to come back, and he said I had to wear a “tupenu” and a “ta’ovala.” That’s a wraparound skirt, and a woven mat tied around my waist with coconut rope. They’re traditionally worn by Tongan men when meeting royalty, or on formal occasions, to show respect. They’re also two components of the school uniform, so all the male students were wearing them. All the male teachers, however, were not. The teacher I was standing beside when I was first approached by the officers was wearing jeans. The school administrator who talked with the officers was wearing trousers. So I asked, if I came back in pants, would I be allowed in? “No,” he replied, “only tupenu and ta’ovala.” Thoroughly dejected, I began to bike home. I saw another teacher sitting outside the gate, who somehow already knew what had happened. “Good luck for you,” he told me, “now you can go home.” But I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to work with my school at the Palace! As I biked past ‘Api Fo’ou, I became determined to get back onto the Palace grounds. I turned into the school, and found one of the deputy principals who was just about to drive to the Palace. I explained what had happened, and she called over a Form 7 boy (they didn’t have to work, because of midterms) who was my size. He got his extra tupenu and ta’ovala, and showed me how to put them on. Then I caught a ride back to the Palace. The gate guard grinned when he saw me approach. He swung open the gate and I walked back onto the grounds feeling pretty proud. It’s definitely an unusual outfit (wearing a mat?), so I hate to admit it, but I do look pretty damn good in the traditional Tongan garb. Evidently everyone knew the story of what had happened; the students were sitting, having just finished their work, and they were all turning around, the girls giggling and the boys giving me the thumbs-up. I was a determined palangi and I hoped the officers got a good look before we all went home for the day. Now maybe next time I’ll get to feed the tigers. Or they’ll feed me to them.