If you haven't Google'd kava yet, please do. Like right now. At best, I can tell you it's a "tea ceremony" in which men gather every night here in Tonga to drink kava (not alcohol...it's basically a tree (root?) that they pound into powder and mix with water...the sensation is one of lethargy and it makes your mouth go numb after a while.) As far as I know, there are two kava circles in my village, both of which I have been the tou'a, or server.
The first night, this past Sunday, I was in a kava circle with predominantly older men, which is usually better as far as they don't say as many dirty things, but there was no singing or playing of the uke/guitar, so it was a bit boring. I would sit, answer questions (my Town Officer/adopted father told them to only 'lea faka-Tonga' to me, or speak only Tongan), and try to listen to conversation. Suddenly a man, probably in his 30s, emerged carrying a baby (it took me by surprise), but even more surprising was the object in the baby's hands/mouth. A pig's foot. Not just the hoof, but basically the leg from the "elbow" down. And this baby was probably between 6-8 months old. My niece Kendall just turned 9 months. I can't imagine her chewing on a pig's foot. I couldn't stop staring at the baby. The dad probably thought I was baby-obsessed, thinking that my biological clock may be ticking, since they next suggested that I marry the guy sitting to my right. But I couldn't stop staring at the pork chunks on the baby's white shirt and chunky chin.
So for future reference, if I ever tou'a for this circle again, this will be the Baby Pig Foot Kava Circle.
The next night, I was a tou'a yet again, but for the other circle. This was the younger, more colorful group, which was great for entertainment because they sang and played instruments. But the guy to my left (who is supposed to be the designated conversationalist to keep the tou'a from getting bored...and is usually flirtatious and suggestive), was crazy annoying. He kept asking me about my "moa", or boyfriend. I told him I had 50. He looked at me in wide amazement, and I said, "Seriously? Fakakata pe." (Just joking.) He kept asking if I wanted a Tongan moa. 'Ikai, I said. (No), Ngaue pe. (Just working.) He didn't speak a lick of English and the music was so loud and he spoke so low that I couldn't understand a damn word he said, either. It was quite frustrating that I couldn't actually move. He sat so close that our knees touched, and I tried as delicately as possible to scoot over, but to no avail. Tongan boys can be quite persistent. Luckily, to my right sat a younger boy I've befriended, who laughed at my eye rolls and "'Oiaue!"'s. ANd next to him sat who I hope will be my new best friend here. This guy wore a black fedora and a vintage band t-shirt with his tupenu, and he spoke in a feminine-ish voice that made me feel comfortable enough to give him a huge hug when he actually asked about my life rather than my moa.
He also was the lead soprano today in singing practice.
We should be friends.
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