Tongatapu in Trouble

Visiting countries in a lower economic bracket than the one we come from can be a dicey business- we come with preconceived ideas about what constitutes wealth or poverty, what indicators suggest that citizens are happy and thriving, etc. I work hard at putting aside my preconceptions and, on the contrary, opening myself to the fascinating world of all the other kinds of wealth or happiness that the west does not have, finding out what lies behind different value systems that may work equally as well as, or even better than ´back home´. I always find thought-provoking and mind-expanding things which fill me with hope and delight, but I also always feel confronted by so much evidence that small island nations like Tonga are failing themselves unnecessarily, sometimes simply due to their own bad management, but more often due to the fallout of historical or on-going relations with wealthy countries, notably the west, whose influence, products or lifestyle ironically often become the focus of glamour and envy. And let´s not forget that choosing the western way is a choice made in preference to their traditional, sustainable, environmentally-friendly, bodily and mentally healthy way of life...

I´m going to perk you up with more up-beat thoughts very soon, but I wanted to write about some of the things which I see going wrong here in southern Tonga...

Tongatapu, the southernmost island group of Tonga hosts the capital, Nuku´alofa, and is naturally the most populated area as well as the hub of administration, education, trade and so on. Ask locals what Tonga exports and they say something like, ´Anything´, or even, ´Everything´, and when pressed suggest craft goods and vegetables. Given that they hardly grow veg for themselves out of season, I find it very unlikely that there is any international trade in fresh produce, and the answer ´crafts´ probably points to the speaker´s neighbour or relative who occasionally exports a woven grass mat or basket to New Zealand by personal arrangement. So what are the cargo ships arriving several times a week doing? Well, judging by what is washed up on the beach, what is rotting in gardens and on roadsides, what is heaped behind bushes in dumps on even the tiniest inhabited island, what is for sale in the shops and what is littering the streets and water, I have some ideas... those ships are bringing stuff that never goes away again!

Desire for products that nobody ever needed or had before creates economic need which detracts from resources available for ´real´ needs and fosters the lack of contentment that we are so inured to in the west but has only very recently begun to tarnish small island happiness. Disposable nappies wash up with the coconuts on the paradisical white sand beaches;

cars that nobody knows how to fix and there are no means to recycle rot in gardens and fields; any minor tourist bar or resort has an endlessly growing pile of beer bottles and cans which holidayers never have to consider as it expands incrementally over an ever-larger area of a perhaps tiny tiny island;

and there is plastic, plastic, plastic... there are plastic bottles floating on the water in the harbour,

there are plastic flowers galore in the cemetery (possibly to render the décor inedible to the many pigs and chickens that roam the streets, paths, groves and beaches of everywhere)

and even synthetic bedding to give restful sleep to departed loved ones;

there is plastic on the streets and in gutters, and, unsurprisingly, there is plastic upon plastic in the shops!

The lowest quality and least durable plastic goods, and often the out of date or out-moded former mores of western markets are found here, as though international commerce lets the rubbish trickle down to this, the last ditch place to sell, where people lack the affluence to know any better.

Everywhere there are rubbish dumps monstrous in size in relation to their host island, and the lack of recycling or proper control of rubbish means that, yes, when your fridge stops working, nothing pretty will become of the situation...

The waters around the capital are, of course, relatively polluted. Local fishermen go elsewhere to bring back fish, and my own swimming and paddling explorations showed a lack of species, a lack of numbers and small individuals (larger individuals of the same species could be found only a few miles away at other islands) as well a great number of tidal fish traps, none of which contained a single fish.

Catch size regulations are in place, as far as I could tell, but unheard of by fishermen or locals and, I can assume by this, unenforced.

A few Tongans who rose out of a state of indifference with whom I spoke blamed climate change and sea level rise for the increasing areas of their islands that were being washed away or flooded by seawater at high tide.

I found one island where former palm groves that had been inundated and consequently died amounted to about a quarter of the area of the island: a desolate sight indeed.

Lastly, the popularly outrageous topic of politics. Talking the customs and immigrations officials about the state of their country upon my arrival, I had great hopes: the monarchy handing over powers to the democratic government; a popular and well respected PM who was reputedly cleaning up the terrible corruption and building services for the citizenry. As always, there are two sides to the story, and when I heard some of the other side I must say it just eclipsed the good vibe feeling altogether. Apparently the PM´s public money-funded pet project is a garden and wateryway adorned 18 hole golf course in a swamp, no less, which seemed almost a parody of vanity. Not only do estimates suggest that watering it will use up to 35% of the country´s meagre water supply, but only sixty-eight golf players have been identified in the country... and we haven´t even talked about the price of the thing. Going along and looking at the site for myself, I found edifying sculptures carved in limestone (no doubt blasted out of some reef), trimmed gardens around canals (even though there is nothing else finished to look at), a grand entranceway flanked by curved stone walls. Worse than this, I discovered that its location is next to a less than affluent neighbourhood and, doing my best to ask some of the residents about their feelings about the golf course I found that their level of English suggested that their families could not afford to send them to school. If I asked, ´What is this?´ they might reply something like, ´Parky´, or if I asked ´Do you like it? Is it good?´, they might blankly answer, ´Yes´, or ´I don´t know´. Basically, pretty far from informed consent. If it becomes a tourist feature, I doubt that these residents would even be well presented enough to be the cleaners to service the establishment, so it was not evident to me how this was serving them at all. And while we are next to the water, just contrast this information with the photo of the town dock, one of the most basic public facilities in an island nation...