Thursday, November 02, 2006
Good day.
I walked up to the post office for about the 6th time in the last two weeks. The post office employees were probably sick of seeing me so frequently. Today was the day that my package would come; I could feel it in the air! Jim, however, wasn't quite as optimistic about the Tongan mail system. Well, he did have a valid point since I had been hopelessly optimistic for the past week to no avail.
The mail system in Ha'apai seems to be even more faulty than in the rest of Tonga. Our mail comes once a week on the boat, and the last time the boat arrived, the mail wasn't retrieved. I questioned one of the locals, who replied in a surprisingly casual manner. "Oh yeah, no mail.
The guy who was supposed to get the mail was asleep. You might want to try next week."
Umm... ok
My parents had informed me about a package that they sent a while ago. For those that don't know, packages and mail in the Peace Corps are priceless to volunteers.
Here, in some weird way, it means a bit more when it comes to receiving things. Maybe it's because we have so much more time to go back through letters and reread them. Maybe it's because of how long it actually takes to send and receive items. Maybe it's because the material possessions that we are accustomed to are so hard to get here. Or maybe it's the knowledge that you're not just a four-hour drive away on the 5 from the place you grew up.
Whatever the reason, my eyes gleamed with renewed vigor when I saw that there was a fresh pile of boxes and mail. The pile wasn't very impressive by any standards; it was just a disheveled stack of maybe 50 envelopes and 4 boxes lying on the table, but it was a bright ray of hope for me.
My heart started to race as I asked the now familiar Tongan sitting at the front counter if there were any packages for the Peace Corps volunteers. She waited a few seconds before giving me a reply (or before doing anything for that matter). It seemed as if she was relishing every
moment that I was waiting in anticipation. Then she said a quick "No, sorry, maybe next time".
Darn. I turned around and started to leave, but then I remembered how 'specific' you have to be when asking Tongans anything. I reworded the question and asked if I had any mail (instead of
packages). Before she even so much as glances at the pile of letters, she says "Oh yes you do!"
Argh, she was one step away from letting me leave the post office, all the while knowing that I had mail!
She rummaged through the mail and took out a few pieces of mail. In turn I thanked her and headed back to the Peace Corps office, expecting the inevitable "I told you so" reply from Jim about the expected package. Before I could step out the door again, she quickly exclaimed... "Oh wait, Jim has a box." The post office didn't have my package, but they had one for Jim! Gee, what an ideal opportunity for him to rub it in.
I went back to the office to let Jim know that he had a package waiting for him. When I got there, the phone rang. He answered it and left the room for a moment. I wasn't sure if he was joking, but he walked in, and said that the lady from the post office called. The message was that I did have a box! WTF?! I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Oh well, this is Tonga after all and I had nothing better to do than to make another trip...
So I went in again to the post office really hoping that they had something else for me, more so now so that I didn't give the false impression that I was a crazy guy who keeps coming back for mail that never arrives. Low and behold, I didn't have a package, I didn't have mail, but instead I had a 'parcel'. Lesson learned; be particularly careful with wording
questions in Tonga...
This package... err, parcel, had 'Family Guy' episodes, lots of movies that my family and I used to watch, a couple of language books (so I could try to pick up a bit of Mandarin), a 230 Gigabyte hard drive (larger than all the hard drives in my computer center put together), and some cooking spices.
I had asked for my family to send me the DVD box of 'Family Guy' that we had lying around, although it was scattered about the house and would probably require the use of a shovel and treasure map to recover. My cousin went above and beyond my request; she downloaded the entire series and put it on the hard drive!! Woot! Thanks to everyone, especially Dora =)
Thursday, November 2, 2006
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
Happy Halloween
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The van traveled a few more meters, and then came to an abrupt halt. I couldn't quite make out the exact details on the driver's face because it was the middle of the night. However, the contorted facial features of the driver revealed either a hint of hysteria or the expression of someone trying desperately to hold in their laughter.
Whichever it was, I couldn't blame her reaction. Imagine being in a developing country where pigs roam the streets freely, a place so conservative that religion dominates Sunday life, a place where the majority of the population have probably never stepped foot outside their island, and where the concept of Halloween is unbeknownst.
Then imagine seeing a masked cowboy with a pair of fake six shooters belted at the hip, a cardboard robot barely held together with duct tape, a molikau with pipe cleaner legs and a wicked stinger, plus an intimidating eye-patched pirate walking alongside one another in the middle of the island's main road.
We must have been quite the sight because not only did the vehicle stop; it literally peeled back in reverse for a closer inspection! There went the possibility of hysteria gripping the driver and her passengers.
They came back and we saw some very amused, yet confused faces. Our molikau representative stepped up and explained to them that it was Halloween. I'm not sure if the Tongans fully comprehended Halloween, but they all nodded in agreement that it looked fun, if not slightly
insane.
Afternote: Halloween was a blast!! The Ha'apai volunteers kick ass. Some of the pictures that we got are priceless. I try to explain everything with words, but this is one of those moments where I don't think any words would do it justice.
Needless to say, Optimus Prime is now my new roommate. Who else can say that they have the supreme commander of the Autobot forces living a room away from them?
The van traveled a few more meters, and then came to an abrupt halt. I couldn't quite make out the exact details on the driver's face because it was the middle of the night. However, the contorted facial features of the driver revealed either a hint of hysteria or the expression of someone trying desperately to hold in their laughter.
Whichever it was, I couldn't blame her reaction. Imagine being in a developing country where pigs roam the streets freely, a place so conservative that religion dominates Sunday life, a place where the majority of the population have probably never stepped foot outside their island, and where the concept of Halloween is unbeknownst.
Then imagine seeing a masked cowboy with a pair of fake six shooters belted at the hip, a cardboard robot barely held together with duct tape, a molikau with pipe cleaner legs and a wicked stinger, plus an intimidating eye-patched pirate walking alongside one another in the middle of the island's main road.
We must have been quite the sight because not only did the vehicle stop; it literally peeled back in reverse for a closer inspection! There went the possibility of hysteria gripping the driver and her passengers.
They came back and we saw some very amused, yet confused faces. Our molikau representative stepped up and explained to them that it was Halloween. I'm not sure if the Tongans fully comprehended Halloween, but they all nodded in agreement that it looked fun, if not slightly
insane.
Afternote: Halloween was a blast!! The Ha'apai volunteers kick ass. Some of the pictures that we got are priceless. I try to explain everything with words, but this is one of those moments where I don't think any words would do it justice.
Needless to say, Optimus Prime is now my new roommate. Who else can say that they have the supreme commander of the Autobot forces living a room away from them?
Thursday, October 26, 2006
4:01 a.m.
Thursday, October 26, 2006 – 4:01 a.m.
It's 4 a.m. and although my opportunities to sleep has been both sparse and sporadic, I'm currently wide-awake. Approximately 30 minutes ago, I had the opportunity to repay the married Peace Corps volunteers that had helped me haul books and computers up two flights of stairs the night before.
(30 minutes ago)
Clunk Clunk Clunk!!! It was the sound of two empty oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks and pebbles in the middle of the night. No, let me restate that with a bit more emphasis on what actually occurred. It was the sound of two empty oil drums proudly declaring to the entire village of Pangai that they were in fact, two hollow oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks through the main street and boldly approaching the police and fire station.
Shadows were poking out of recently lit homes as Tongans started peeking out their windows to see who was stupid enough to create that much noise in that brief time of day when it was neither completely night nor morning.
It probably wasn't too shocking when they found their answer; it was two Peace Corps volunteers. It was two Peace Corps volunteers whose muscles ached from carrying the heavy 50-pound oil drums on their backs all the way from the wharf. It was one Peace Corps volunteer in particular, who learned that the empty oil drums weren't exactly empty per say.
With still a bit of sleep deficiency, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, and my hands soaked in some foul grease, I had decided that the oil drums needed to be moved off my back and transported with a bit more ease. While it wasn't our intention to disturb the entire village, we weren't exactly thrilled (or physically capable) of having to lug heavy oil drums for miles in our flip flops. After lugging them as far as we could, we finally decided to simply give swift kicks to the drums until we were at the police station. Once we arrived at the police station, we just decided to carry the barrels on our backs once again for the remainder of the trip to the Peace Corps office.
The oil drums will be used as trash cans on the outer island where the married Peace Corps volunteers currently live. It takes over 20 combined man hours of watching for the barrels, two trips by ship, carrying (and kicking) said barrels through a good portion of town, a taxi, and rolling the drums up a large hill before an outer island sees something as simple as a 'trash can'.
Peace Corps, it's definitely not a 9-5 job in Ha'apai. Over the last few days, my definition of 'a lot of sleep' has changed from 12 hours a day to a full 5 hours a day. I'll try to catch some naps while Windows and Linux is being installed onto the new computers.
As a side note, I went over to the business building and low and behold, there was no electricity in the computer room. For the time being, I'm running an extension cable from the far side of the building so I'm able to work on one computer at a time.
I bumped into my counterpart and asked him if he could turn on the electricity in that room. He nodded, but he gave me an incredulous look that said, "Great... first you want computers and now you're already asking for electricity? What am I going to do with you? How can I keep up with these weird demands?!" You Peace Corps volunteers sure are a strange lot...
It's 4 a.m. and although my opportunities to sleep has been both sparse and sporadic, I'm currently wide-awake. Approximately 30 minutes ago, I had the opportunity to repay the married Peace Corps volunteers that had helped me haul books and computers up two flights of stairs the night before.
(30 minutes ago)
Clunk Clunk Clunk!!! It was the sound of two empty oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks and pebbles in the middle of the night. No, let me restate that with a bit more emphasis on what actually occurred. It was the sound of two empty oil drums proudly declaring to the entire village of Pangai that they were in fact, two hollow oil drums rolling across hundreds of tiny rocks through the main street and boldly approaching the police and fire station.
Shadows were poking out of recently lit homes as Tongans started peeking out their windows to see who was stupid enough to create that much noise in that brief time of day when it was neither completely night nor morning.
It probably wasn't too shocking when they found their answer; it was two Peace Corps volunteers. It was two Peace Corps volunteers whose muscles ached from carrying the heavy 50-pound oil drums on their backs all the way from the wharf. It was one Peace Corps volunteer in particular, who learned that the empty oil drums weren't exactly empty per say.
With still a bit of sleep deficiency, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, and my hands soaked in some foul grease, I had decided that the oil drums needed to be moved off my back and transported with a bit more ease. While it wasn't our intention to disturb the entire village, we weren't exactly thrilled (or physically capable) of having to lug heavy oil drums for miles in our flip flops. After lugging them as far as we could, we finally decided to simply give swift kicks to the drums until we were at the police station. Once we arrived at the police station, we just decided to carry the barrels on our backs once again for the remainder of the trip to the Peace Corps office.
The oil drums will be used as trash cans on the outer island where the married Peace Corps volunteers currently live. It takes over 20 combined man hours of watching for the barrels, two trips by ship, carrying (and kicking) said barrels through a good portion of town, a taxi, and rolling the drums up a large hill before an outer island sees something as simple as a 'trash can'.
Peace Corps, it's definitely not a 9-5 job in Ha'apai. Over the last few days, my definition of 'a lot of sleep' has changed from 12 hours a day to a full 5 hours a day. I'll try to catch some naps while Windows and Linux is being installed onto the new computers.
As a side note, I went over to the business building and low and behold, there was no electricity in the computer room. For the time being, I'm running an extension cable from the far side of the building so I'm able to work on one computer at a time.
I bumped into my counterpart and asked him if he could turn on the electricity in that room. He nodded, but he gave me an incredulous look that said, "Great... first you want computers and now you're already asking for electricity? What am I going to do with you? How can I keep up with these weird demands?!" You Peace Corps volunteers sure are a strange lot...
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The application of brute force
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
It was 3 a.m.; roughly 10 Tongans and 4 Peace Corps volunteers stood huddled around 5 massive crates at the Ha'apai docks. The beam emitting from an LED flashlight shined directly onto the group's collective fears; the keys that we held in hand did not fit into the crate's burly lock. It was the only obstacle that prevented us from retrieving our cargo.
Unknown to us at the moment, in those crates were approximately 10,000 books, 37 refurbished desktops, 40 Cathode Ray Tube computer monitors, and the combined admirable efforts of countless individuals who donated their time and material possessions to people they've never met.
Although the cargo had made the trip of over a thousand miles to some of the most untouched parts of the world, we still had to complete the final step of getting everything into the third floor of the business building before vandals or rain could ruin the contents inside. We all momentarily looked at the sky, hoping that Tonga's fickle weather would play nice.
I pondered the predicament. The reinforced steel lock could have been considered one of the finest crafted devices 1000 years ago. On the exterior, a logo of the manufacture had been delicately etched into a thin layer of brass before being encased in hardened steel. In the interior, chamber after chamber of tiny pins determined the current state of the lock. Given only a few ounces of pressure at specific internal locations and we would have been allowed access to the contents of the crates. We momentarily tried bashing the lock from the outside using hand sized rocks, but each attempt only lowered the groups' hopes.
I looked around at the rest of the volunteers. I image we all wore a sort of weary resignation; a look that was half the result of sleep deprivation and half the effect of looking into a high quality deadlock that wouldn't give. I could no longer feel the effects of the coffee that we drank a few hours past and I was just moments away from calling it a night.
Thud!!! The Tongans were reluctant to give up and were already improvising. We turned around just in time to see another clash between technology and primitive raw energy. This time the primitive raw energy came in the shape of a lead pipe that smashed against the lock to no avail. After a few minutes, the Tongans agreed that the lead pipe was virtually useless. However, the Tongans didn't skip a beat before their next plan was hatched.
Another Tongan had run off a few feet to grab a jagged rock weighing in at least 15lbs. I liked their thinking; if smashing something with a rock was ineffective, that means your rock was too small. This specific rock, a crude instrument probably used well over 1000 years ago, still proved to be very effective. With just three strikes, the primitive rock had successfully bypassed the different layers of complex chambers and pins built within the lock. In a final loud clank, the lock released its firm grasp, and hung loosely in defeat.
Over the course of the next few hours, we moved the contents of all the crates up to the third floor (which with our luck happened to be the highest point in Pangai). We had waited there all night and a couple of hours in the morning for the boat. By the time we were finished unpacking, it was 7 a.m and many of us had not slept for over 30 hours.
We all had a meeting scheduled at 10 a.m. and I had another meeting at noon with my supervisor (who just flew in from Nuku'alofa). I believe its karma making me work for all my lost hours in the last month. I have no complaints here; I'm glad I have something to do now.
Ironically enough, the same lock from the crate is still intact and now secures the iron-gate to the third floor of our building. If it weren't for the faint scratch on the surface, no one could even guess that it had a previous encounter with a lead pipe and a massive rock. Inevitably the security that the lock provides, like any sense of security, is only an illusion.
It was 3 a.m.; roughly 10 Tongans and 4 Peace Corps volunteers stood huddled around 5 massive crates at the Ha'apai docks. The beam emitting from an LED flashlight shined directly onto the group's collective fears; the keys that we held in hand did not fit into the crate's burly lock. It was the only obstacle that prevented us from retrieving our cargo.
Unknown to us at the moment, in those crates were approximately 10,000 books, 37 refurbished desktops, 40 Cathode Ray Tube computer monitors, and the combined admirable efforts of countless individuals who donated their time and material possessions to people they've never met.
Although the cargo had made the trip of over a thousand miles to some of the most untouched parts of the world, we still had to complete the final step of getting everything into the third floor of the business building before vandals or rain could ruin the contents inside. We all momentarily looked at the sky, hoping that Tonga's fickle weather would play nice.
I pondered the predicament. The reinforced steel lock could have been considered one of the finest crafted devices 1000 years ago. On the exterior, a logo of the manufacture had been delicately etched into a thin layer of brass before being encased in hardened steel. In the interior, chamber after chamber of tiny pins determined the current state of the lock. Given only a few ounces of pressure at specific internal locations and we would have been allowed access to the contents of the crates. We momentarily tried bashing the lock from the outside using hand sized rocks, but each attempt only lowered the groups' hopes.
I looked around at the rest of the volunteers. I image we all wore a sort of weary resignation; a look that was half the result of sleep deprivation and half the effect of looking into a high quality deadlock that wouldn't give. I could no longer feel the effects of the coffee that we drank a few hours past and I was just moments away from calling it a night.
Thud!!! The Tongans were reluctant to give up and were already improvising. We turned around just in time to see another clash between technology and primitive raw energy. This time the primitive raw energy came in the shape of a lead pipe that smashed against the lock to no avail. After a few minutes, the Tongans agreed that the lead pipe was virtually useless. However, the Tongans didn't skip a beat before their next plan was hatched.
Another Tongan had run off a few feet to grab a jagged rock weighing in at least 15lbs. I liked their thinking; if smashing something with a rock was ineffective, that means your rock was too small. This specific rock, a crude instrument probably used well over 1000 years ago, still proved to be very effective. With just three strikes, the primitive rock had successfully bypassed the different layers of complex chambers and pins built within the lock. In a final loud clank, the lock released its firm grasp, and hung loosely in defeat.
Over the course of the next few hours, we moved the contents of all the crates up to the third floor (which with our luck happened to be the highest point in Pangai). We had waited there all night and a couple of hours in the morning for the boat. By the time we were finished unpacking, it was 7 a.m and many of us had not slept for over 30 hours.
We all had a meeting scheduled at 10 a.m. and I had another meeting at noon with my supervisor (who just flew in from Nuku'alofa). I believe its karma making me work for all my lost hours in the last month. I have no complaints here; I'm glad I have something to do now.
Ironically enough, the same lock from the crate is still intact and now secures the iron-gate to the third floor of our building. If it weren't for the faint scratch on the surface, no one could even guess that it had a previous encounter with a lead pipe and a massive rock. Inevitably the security that the lock provides, like any sense of security, is only an illusion.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Homesick Dreams
The last few days I had these reoccurring dreams. They always take place back in Reedley; this time I’m standing in the front yard just before one of my routine midnight runs. There’s hardly a soul outside and the towns already asleep. It’s the way I prefer it.
The cold night sends chills across my body. Even though it’s only a dream, I have the uncanny knowledge that I’m really half ways across the world. I know that I’m not in Reedley anymore and the childhood scene suddenly reminds me of what I miss.
I start getting homesick in my sleep. I miss being able to see the town at midnight. Who would’ve thought that simple lampposts were so important? I miss the simple freedom of being able to run without a shirt on. I miss running on the solid foundations of blacktop and cement. I miss the midnight breeze on my face when I’m jogging. The weather starts to numb the digits of my fingers and I remind myself that I need to get moving to stay warm.
The iPod that’s strapped to my right arm starts to come alive with music. I stretch a little, although I’m not accustomed to it. I only remember that my little brother keeps telling me to stretch whenever we run together. I smile slightly as I think about our shared sense of cynical humor… maybe that’s why we get along so well… I wonder how he’s doing in his classes…
I brush the thought off and change the track to a more upbeat song just before I begin running. It’s so simple; just place one foot in front of the other. It clears my mind up. I turn around the familiar street corner and soon find myself in front of the streetlight. The light is red and the road lays barren. I wait anyways and secretly catch my breath, using the light as an excuse. The first steps are always the toughest.
The light flashes green and the real run starts. Soon I jog by some familiar houses… I take a quick glance at a friend’s house that I went to for a memorable Fourth of July. So many years ago... I wonder why I didn’t keep in contact with her. I let that thought slip just as quickly as it appeared.
As my body starts to get tired, the endorphins are slowly released and they begin compensating for my lack of strength. Before long I find myself running by my old high school. Breathing is no longer difficult and I find my pace.
And then this sense of urgency snaps in me. I’m in a hurry and I don’t know where I’m going. I’m panicked and confused, yet the setting looks exactly the same. Nothing’s changed… but the world feels slightly different. I wake up filled with questions. I’m left wondering where am I? Where am I going? And what’s the hurry?
The cold night sends chills across my body. Even though it’s only a dream, I have the uncanny knowledge that I’m really half ways across the world. I know that I’m not in Reedley anymore and the childhood scene suddenly reminds me of what I miss.
I start getting homesick in my sleep. I miss being able to see the town at midnight. Who would’ve thought that simple lampposts were so important? I miss the simple freedom of being able to run without a shirt on. I miss running on the solid foundations of blacktop and cement. I miss the midnight breeze on my face when I’m jogging. The weather starts to numb the digits of my fingers and I remind myself that I need to get moving to stay warm.
The iPod that’s strapped to my right arm starts to come alive with music. I stretch a little, although I’m not accustomed to it. I only remember that my little brother keeps telling me to stretch whenever we run together. I smile slightly as I think about our shared sense of cynical humor… maybe that’s why we get along so well… I wonder how he’s doing in his classes…
I brush the thought off and change the track to a more upbeat song just before I begin running. It’s so simple; just place one foot in front of the other. It clears my mind up. I turn around the familiar street corner and soon find myself in front of the streetlight. The light is red and the road lays barren. I wait anyways and secretly catch my breath, using the light as an excuse. The first steps are always the toughest.
The light flashes green and the real run starts. Soon I jog by some familiar houses… I take a quick glance at a friend’s house that I went to for a memorable Fourth of July. So many years ago... I wonder why I didn’t keep in contact with her. I let that thought slip just as quickly as it appeared.
As my body starts to get tired, the endorphins are slowly released and they begin compensating for my lack of strength. Before long I find myself running by my old high school. Breathing is no longer difficult and I find my pace.
And then this sense of urgency snaps in me. I’m in a hurry and I don’t know where I’m going. I’m panicked and confused, yet the setting looks exactly the same. Nothing’s changed… but the world feels slightly different. I wake up filled with questions. I’m left wondering where am I? Where am I going? And what’s the hurry?
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Moved in to Ha'apai
We went to the King's funeral a couple days ago. We have to wear black for a month and for some strange reason, I get thirsty when I look at so much black. Hmm... there's probably some screws loose in my head.
Yesterday I moved to Ha'apai, that is, if you can count dropping my backpack and guitar inside 'moving in'. The rest of my luggage should follow shortly on Friday. The plane ride over was delayed for 3 hours, which I hear seems to be fairly common. I had a chance to talk to some Aussies who also had their flight to Vava'u delayed.
Last night we had a feast at my counterpart's house. It was very yummy!
The computers that should have arrived at my site were accidentally shipped to Somoa. I guess I'll have to wait a week or two before they'll be here. Until then I should find some way to be productive. I found a book on lockpicking that I'll read up on in case I get locked out of my house.
This morning I started some coding and I'm working on a program to teach Tongan. I'm not sure how useful it'll be, but at least it'll keep me busy. I need my bags (with my microphone) to come here before I can start recording sound clips.
A friend back in the States just confirmed that he sent some programs over. I'll have some more compilers to play with, yay!!! I have a feeling I'll just be programming while I wait for the computers to come.
Yesterday I moved to Ha'apai, that is, if you can count dropping my backpack and guitar inside 'moving in'. The rest of my luggage should follow shortly on Friday. The plane ride over was delayed for 3 hours, which I hear seems to be fairly common. I had a chance to talk to some Aussies who also had their flight to Vava'u delayed.
Last night we had a feast at my counterpart's house. It was very yummy!
The computers that should have arrived at my site were accidentally shipped to Somoa. I guess I'll have to wait a week or two before they'll be here. Until then I should find some way to be productive. I found a book on lockpicking that I'll read up on in case I get locked out of my house.
This morning I started some coding and I'm working on a program to teach Tongan. I'm not sure how useful it'll be, but at least it'll keep me busy. I need my bags (with my microphone) to come here before I can start recording sound clips.
A friend back in the States just confirmed that he sent some programs over. I'll have some more compilers to play with, yay!!! I have a feeling I'll just be programming while I wait for the computers to come.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Officially a U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer!
Yay, Group 71 from the Kingdom of Tonga are now official Peace Corps volunteers! Woot us! We received a pin, a certificate, and our ID cards.
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