Definition
Tonga time: adj./n. 1. describing the different (usually slower) pace in which most things happen on an island. 2. The idea that things meant to be, will happen in their own due course if provided with the right setting. 3. A justification for being late.
Question: "When will the boat arrive?" Answer: "Tonga time"
There is an adjustment in space and time living out here that I will refer to as Tonga time. When I arrived as a volunteer with the broad job description of “community education”, I never really received a specific project plan, or time frame for what I was meant to be doing. So I muddled through the resources I was given, fueled myself with self-motivation and patiently learned the ways of Tonga time. Tonga time, as I imagine there is some version of Mongolia time or Bulgaria time, is essential to my belief that development should start at the grassroots and rise from within a culture. That “doing” anything here, really begins with learning to respect and understand the way of life that already exists. That development often works best when it builds on the structures in place, rather than imposing itself and overriding pre-existing knowledge. I’ve tried to maintain a quiet but persistent vision to make myself useful these two years, while immersing myself in Tonga time so as to learn what development is needed and desired by my community. I’ve found that adopting the rhythm of life here has been the key to achieving progress.
So this entry is a response, to people who have asked me to describe what a day of my life looks like in Tonga…. It’s hard to say. In America we have a structure, we set objectives and measure outcomes then we go home at the end of our day. In Tonga we share food, go to church, or stop by a neighbor’s house and we worry about work afterwards. Priorities are shifted and the “little things” matter much more here.
So though I didn’t arrive in my village with any real clue as to what I would be doing, eventually on Tonga time, I've built three separate projects: teaching at the elementary school, starting a computer lab, and creating an environment group. None of the above mentioned positions are things in which I had proper previous training or expertise in. I came here open to whatever assignment I could engage myself in, and I’ve found myself passionately working on these completely unique projects.
The key to my work in Tonga has been building good relationships. "Work", "family", and "social life" are not separate domains, they blur together. Teachers at my school will spend hours sitting on mats on the grass chatting and eating with one another. Because I want to be a part of the teaching community and work successfully with my counterparts, I join them on a mat too. In this way we chat and bond, and the teachers get to know and trust me. Sometimes we sit for long periods of time without talking at all (surely what many Westerners would consider unbearable "awkward silence"), but it's invaluable for maintaining my relationships.
Abiding by cultural norms, sharing my lunch, and telling a good joke have all helped me gain acceptance here, and it extends beyond the schoolyard. In Tonga, people don't close their doors. The word for wandering around is called going for an "eva-pe", and all day people mingle and stay at each other's houses. There aren't so many formal invitations to "come over and visit", but instead people just walk in the house and sit down. If a meal is ready they share whatever is there. Adopting Tonga time means making time to stop and chat with people, try some of their food, and see how their day is going. I have yet to see anyone in such a "rush", that they can't pause for 2 seconds and greet their neighbor. So I welcome my neighbors to try my cooking, I stop by friends' houses, and I always make room for an “eva eva”, and it keeps me tuned into the village network.
The last essential activity I participate in is religion. If people aren’t on the school grounds, or out for an eva-pe they are most certainly at church. Tongans are pretty unanimously religious, and overwhelming Christian. Being a part of the community means praying throughout the day and going to church (at LEAST once a week). And in truth, the church is where the community leaders rise and influence society. To attempt to work outside of the religious institutions in Tonga, would be swift suicide, and I’ve found the inclusion of ministers to be vital towards progress. So I’ve learned when coming to another country to do development work, I’ve had to leave some of my fundamental beliefs and values behind in order to work by other terms. It’s not up to me to pass too much judgment on the way it works here. Religion is a fundamental part of Tongan culture, and I’ve needed to recognize and work with in that structure.
Ultimately my acceptance in the community has been the platform from which I have become involved in every aspect of my development work. It is how I heard about the donations of computers and was able to facilitate the building and running of a center. It is what has allowed me to instruct my classes smooth and successfully with the other teachers at school. And it has provided me with local knowledge and attitudes towards nature that precipitated forming an environmental conservation group. Everything I’ve gotten involved in doing out here has arisen from my effort spent learning Tonga time.
Perhaps this is why when I'm asked what my "work" looks like in Tonga, I try to explain that there is no line where it begins or ends. Just as much as I have prepared lessons, downloaded software, and organized meetings, I have made sure to sit under a mango tree, sing with the choir at church, and welcome visitors with my door wide open.