The Toe Hold Kava Circle

Yes, friends, there's another.
There's a pattern to my being a tou'a. If you're new to the blog and/or unfamiliar, you should either Google 'tou'a' or look back in my blog posts for "Baby Pig Foot Kava Circle" or "Pickle Tickle Handshake Kava Circle. Then you'll understand.
So I've figured out that I"m asked to be a tou'a for a faikava (Kava circle/meeting) by my adopted Tongan town officer father when his wife is in Tongatapu. she hates that people ask me to tou'a, as most Tongan girls NEVER tou'a. They know better, I suppose. My Tongan mother is aweosme--she's independent, hilarious, and insists on speaking only Tongan to me. And she would be flabbergasted to know I've been a tou'a four times already in my village.
To be honest, I didn't think I'd tou'a 4 times in my entire service here. It's not exactly a fun experience. I sat 2 1/2 hours again, and by the end, I thanked God that I received a phone call from another PCV that gave me a reason to leave. (Unfortunately, that reason was a warning about a tsunami caused by the terrible earthquake in Japan.)
On my walk home after 10 that Friday night, it took me nearly 5 minutes before I stopped limping. Tou'as are supposed to sit on one side, with both legs tucked to the other side beneath the butt. However, since that isn't the most comfortable or practical position, I always sit cross-legged. For this reason, I always wear my longest skirts to kava circles. But my ankles feel permanently etched into the concrete floor, and my feet are numb, the ligaments in my knees feel ready to spring from their joints, and my hip bones/groin muscles SCREAM to be stretched. It's kind of miserable, actually, which is why no girl actually enjoys being a tou'a.
This time, however, was my best circle so far. Most of the men were older--the one to my left was old and hilarious.
This time I had an old married man to my left, and Fedora Hat Guy (from PTHS Kava Circle), so I was in great company. I finally let loose a little, probably from my exhaustion, and joked a lot with the men. Especially with the man to my left became very kona, or drunk. Kava-drunk isn't like alcohol drunk. I mean...it is but it's not. Men will say silly things not heard in normal conversation, but the drunk is more lethargic. They get super sleepy--especially if I pour them a cup (aka coconut shell) full of kava. Kava circles generally last from around 7:30 or 8 to well after midnight. Men come and go as they please, and tou'a's can leave at any time, too.
Anyway, I digress.
So this faikava was fun. I felt like these men were my friends, and I actually felt amused and not so bored. We were at the Wesleyan Hall, where I was the tou'a the last time before a feast. And in this hall, in the mix of crowds from Baby Pig Foot Kava Circle and Pickle Tickle Handshake Kava Circle, I noticed something quite...spectacular, really.
It's about feet. Have I ever mentioned Tongan feet before? Surely I have. A Tongan's feet are HUGE. HUGE, I tell you.
My mom has always complained about her thick, wide hands and feet. Well, darlin', you got nothin' on these people. You could boil one of these feet and nearly have the equivalent to a Christmas ham. Only maybe a bit tougher, more sinewy. And I'm sure toenails aren't pleasant.
Anyway, so a Tongan's feet are thick and flat. Many of them walk barefoot nearly everywhere, so the soles are tougher than my tennis shoes, and they have muscles EVERYWHERE in their feet. Tongans--especially/mostly the boys and men--climb a lot. Mainly coconut trees. They use their feet a lot, thus the massive size, just like their bodies. PS, a Tongan's body mass is the first or second in the world, I think. Their bone density is outrageously amazing. It's from all that stinkin' root crop they eat!
And the toes.
I want you to do an exercise. I had my sister do this while talking on the phone, just for the effect. Hold your hand out, palm down. Now stretch your fingers apart, as wide as you possibly can. Strain those fingers. Strain! As you're straining, I want you to imagine your hand is a foot, the fingers are toes. Those toes are Tongan toes. If a Tongan ever got a pedicure, she wouldn't need those foam toe separator thingies. It's from the toe muscles that I never knew existed. It's trippy.
Anyway. So I'm at the kava circle, I'm looking around, noticing all the men smoking their usual--tobacco wrapped in newspaper or leftover school paper. There's no telling what toxins they're inhaling. Some men bring matches, others bring lighters.
This is my point, people.
I suddenly noticed colorful things, slender, smooth things between Tongan toes. Aside from boils and scars from boils, there's not much else other than dirt that occupies a Tongan's foot.
Except for cigarette lighters. These men stick the cigarette lighters between their toes like you would store a cereal box on a shelf, or like you would stick a book back in its place in the library. The cigarette lighters are just chillin, stuck between two dirty Tongan toes--toes in which suffer no strain from such unusual bearings. It was as natural as sliding glasses on your face or slinging a purse over your shoulder.
Thus another inspiration for my new favorite pastime. (Nicknaming, of course.)
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present:
The Toe-Hold Kava Circle.