Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ise of good shelter when a forecast trough was to pass over the area the next day, bringing
torrents of rain.
Every cloud has a silver lining, and in O'ua, this came in the sturdy form of a young local
named Freddy. We were initially bewildered when this twenty-something-year-old swam
out to our boat at the height of a squall and perched on our stern ladder. What on earth
was he up to, swimming in such weather? What did he want? His broken English and our
nonexistent Tongan did little to clarify the situation at first. But Markus, with his patient
heart of gold, joined our visitor in the downpour, communicating through basic English
and hand gestures. It was a little like navigating with paper charts: it requires some use of
the brain, but ultimately gets you to your destination. Our visitor didn't appear interested
in fishing gear, nor was he particularly curious about our boat. And he certainly didn't
harbor any evil intentions. It seemed that all Freddy wanted was to initiate a little contact
with the outside world, an impression confirmed later when we visited him on land. Liv-
ing in an isolated island village with fewer than one hundred crowded inhabitants has its
limits. What's a little rain when the outside world comes knocking at your door?
Little did we know that this strange encounter was to pave the way for a very unique ex-
perience. When Freddy returned the next (sunny) day with a bunch of bananas, we invited
him to join us for lunch. Freddy raised his heavy eyebrows in the Tongan equivalent of a
nod and lingered over every bite of freshly baked bread and canned ham as if they were
gourmet treats. Then he promised to return the next day with a feast for us. Now it was
our turn to raise our eyebrows and nod. This we had to see.
True to his word, Freddy appeared the next day on a borrowed skiff and stepped aboard
Namani
with his promised feast: Tongan takeout, as Markus later quipped. The meal had
been cooking in an
umu
, or earth oven, for hours, and was now spread across our cockpit
table in succulent, leaf-wrapped packages. Each dish came with a deceptively Spartan title
that belied the explosion of flavors it promised. “Fish” referred to three steaming, juicy
reef fish marinated in coconut milk; “chicken” was the unassuming name of a deliciously
soft, steamed meat; accompanying them were octopus, taro, and cassava, plus fresh-off-
the-tree papaya for dessert. It was a feast fit for a queen and a day to remember. Freddy
borrowed Markus' guitar to strum a few tunes while his son Anis joined Nicky in climb-
ing the rigging and tinkering with Lego. Among the many facts we gleaned from Freddy
that day was that secondary education is much harder to obtain in the Ha'apai group, ex-
plaining why fewer people had the same mastery of English that we observed in Vava'u.
No matter: friendships can be made with or without language. With few words yet gener-
ous gestures, Freddy left a lasting impression.
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