Sayonara

Ha’apai is two weeks away from losing all of its Peace Corps Volunteers.  Aussie youth ambassadors don’t come here, and since there is only one Kiwi for the whole country, neither do New Zealanders.  Ha’apai won’t completely lose its foreign help, however, because there will still be three volunteers from the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA).

The JICAs have always been kind to us and we’ve had a few mutual social events.  Mostly, though, they keep to themselves.  Tonga must be a an extra challenge for them since they need to learn both English and Tongan to be able to work with locals.  Tongans don’t have family in Japan or import much of Japanese culture.  Some Tongans also assume that JICAs are Chinese, which broaches immigrant tensions. 

Fortunately,  Sachi,  Kimika, and Miyuki (whose names I hope I am spelling correctly) have a perfect new hang-out location for their future, culturally homogeneous, social events.  Sachi just moved from “all the way across town” in to a well-constructed fully furnished home, which became a good excuse last week for a joint house warming / goodbye Peace Corps dinner party.  It was only the second time I’ve sat on a couch in the past six months. 

There’s no such thing as normal when you combine  Americans and Japanese culture in destitute Ha’apai, and that’s why having them around was great.  Connor brought a bottle of wine (which might be normal at a dinner party in the states but is very expensive for us and only newly available).  I brought an olive oil and balsamic vinegar based salad (very special ingredients), a pineapple, and a corner table – Sachi had asked me to teach her to build a corner table for her new family room out of a plank of wood and a hammer, which taught me enough about her home improvement sense just to give her mine. 

Connor and I experienced Japanese culture by dining on Japanese pancakes composed of cabbage, corn, and a floury mixture that were tasty when drizzled with a sweet soy syrup; by watching the three JICAs obsessively photograph the entire evening; by playing their “pick up the card with the country’s flag you hear me call” party game; and by listening to their chop-stick etiquette lessons.  The only culture Connor and I gave back was a silly drinking game and a bickering argument over who’s hometown produced better pizza (I think if he ventured off Long Island into heartland America he’d accept the supremacy of the Chicago-style).

It was like no evening I’ve even had, and that’s why I’ll miss our three JICA.  Thanks Sachi, Kimika, and Miyuki for the great good-bye.