Hot, but not too bad. Partly cloudy, so the sun isn’t killing me. I rode in front with His Eminence, and Fr. Paul behind, helping to translate as necessary. His Eminence speaks English fairly well, but he’s only been in New Zealand a year or so, and he’s still getting comfortable. It’s funny hearing Fr. Paul in person because I had listened to his AFR interview a few times, plus several episodes of a podcast he and his Presbytera Ekaterina produce weekly on a public radio station in Auckland.
First impression from the drive: I didn’t realize how poor Tonga really is. Or maybe I didn’t realize what real poverty looks like. The buildings and houses are very simple, often in ill repair. Lots of folks are outside – walking around in small groups, hanging out in the shade, or selling used tools or seafood under the cover of a fruit-stand style shack with a woven palm leaf roof.
We stopped in a couple shops to get new pillows for Fr. Paul & me. The existing ones were covered in mold when the group arrived a couple days prior. The shopkeepers gave His Eminence and Fr. Paul, dressed in their black cassocks (and Fr. Paul in flip flops) some long stares. One Tongan told me that 90% of people think that the Orthodox are Muslims because of the black robes, so every conversation with a local person is a chance to clarify that misconception. His Eminence even wears a cross everywhere he goes, but it doesn’t seem to register with folks.
After passing through the capital city of Nuku’alofa, we make our way along the north coast of the island to the Church. It is smaller than I thought from the pictures, but that’s to be expected. It’s also a little bleak looking, as the only work done so far is concrete. No wood, paint, roofing or anything to break the monotony, aside from a bit of scrap lumber piles and wooden forms for the concrete arches. Right next to the Church is a small parish house and a little chapel dedicated to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul. Everything is crammed onto a very small parcel, as land in a small island kingdom is quite expensive.
His Eminence immediately gives me a tour of the church building. It’s gorgeous. The acoustics are stunning, and when it is finished it will truly be a magnificent House of God. But we have some work to do before any services are going to happen there. For starts we’ll need some more block work and plastering done, a banister around the whole upper level, three veranda roofs built, almost 40 windows and doors, paint, and preferably some tile on the floors. Then it’ll need the electrical and plumbing completed. After the basic structure is finished will come an iconostasis, altar table, candle stands and some furniture. Outfitting the kitchen and bathrooms will fit in there somewhere also.
It’s a big project.
After the tour I was shown to my room, which I share with Fr. Paul. He said he hoped I didn’t mind having a bunkmate. I told him when I woke up last in my bed I had 5 bunkmates, since the baby sleeps with us and our three girls climb in to snuggle every morning. Having my own bed under any terms is a luxury. I think Fr. Meletios agreed to sleep on a mattress in the floor of the main room so I could have a proper bed. That was very kind of him.
We had Saturday evening vespers before too long. Fr. Meletios officiated the service barefoot and Fr. Paul, acting as chanter, still had his flip flops on. Ecclesiastical wardrobe expectations are modified quite a bit when you are visiting the Tropics, apparently. No locals came to vespers. I helped chant a bit, but I was only moderately familiar with the music, so I felt a bit out of place. I’d need more practice to keep up with them. Fr. Paul was very gracious nonetheless, and would let me help at Liturgy the next morning.
After the evening service we ate something Fr. Paul had whipped up beforehand and we ate under the covered veranda between the house and the chapel which serves as an outdoor dining room. After dinner I walked alone a bit, wading into the ocean right across the street. I sat on the veranda later and watched the wildlife: geckos of all sizes climbing on every surface of the house and the largest cockroach I’ve ever seen, including movies. I contemplated putting a saddle on it and taking a ride into town, but everything would have been closed by that time.
In tomorrow’s post I’ll tell you what Sunday is like in a country where it’s ILLEGAL to work at all on the Lord’s Day!