gone? To NZ everyone!

Where have the Tongans gone? To NZ everyone!

From A Tongan Correspondent

For almost six months, I had been away from Tonga on leave in Europe so it was with great anticipation that I came once more to the little village where I live. The trusted friend who had been "house-sitting" for me in my absence and a couple of the village girls met me and we all chatted happily as the boat neared my island.

By the time we reached our home beach, a wind had sprung up and the waves were breaking over the dinghy.

"We'd better pull the boat up," I said, so we got out and tugged away at it. When it stuck in the sand, I suggested we call my neighbour. Solo, to help, but the girls said, "No, Solo's in New Zealand," so the four of us pulled away and finally got the boat up on the grass.

When we got into the house, I asked what Solo was doing in New Zealand and was told that he had gone off on one of the labour schemes.

"And Sione's there . . . and Manu . . . and Ofa," and the girls poured out at me the names of most of the young men of the village. In the next breath, they were telling me excitedly how much money they were going to make and what wonderful things they would do with it when they came back.

After the girls had left, my friend settled down to tell me the inevitable bad news about everything that had fallen into disrepair while I'd been away.

Screens needed replacing, the square tank had developed a leak, the motor mower had collapsed.

"Never mind, "I said cheerily. "I'll soon get them fixed. I'll take the mower to town tomorrow and . . ."

"There's no place to take it," she said. "Semisi's gone up to New Zealand and he's the only mechanic that ever understood about the mower."

When 1 walked up into the village, I discovered it had turned into a ghost town. There wasn't a young man to be found. They were all in New Zealand; so I fixed the screens myself.

Happily, I reflected that the district's one skilled cement worker was still in Tonga. I knew because I'd seen

him the day I arrived back, but when I went to ask him to come and fix my tank, he shook his head.

"I can't possibly make it until the end of next month," he said.

When I protested that my leaking tank was an emergency, he smiled wryly, took a notebook out of his pocket and pointing to a long list of names, said, "I know. All these people have emergencies, too."

"Well then," I replied. "If you can't do it, tell me who can."

"Maybe you," he said. "All the men who used to do such things are . . ."

"In New Zealand," I finished and he nodded.

I fixed the tank myself.

If inconvenience to an elderly householder were the worst thing that could be blamed on the labour schemes, it wouldn't much matter, but it is not. The head of the Telephone and Telegraph Department comes on the radio to explain to the public why the service has been so poor lately.

It boils down to the fact that they no longer have an adequate number of operators.

Other government departments are similarly effected. The Ministry of Works has had to abandon some pro jects because of a labour shortage and an important drainage project is grind ing to a standstill for lack of workers.

Over two-thirds of the carpenters on building construction have gone.

The Water Board is having difficul ties because of the lack of skilled tradesmen, and the Power Board and the Government Printing Office both need more men if they are to main tain efficient operations.

Private businesses are also suffering from being short-handed . . . and what, for an agricultural country like Tonga, is worst of all, farmers com plain because they cannot get enough labour to help them maintain their crops.

Personal lives are being threatened.

I have learned recently of many broken marriages caused by the "wanderings" of husbands in New Zealand. Even the best of homes is affected as wives and husbands are separated and children grow up with-

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out a father's guiding hand.

And what of the returnees?

Take the case of Lokivao, a robust young fellow in my village. Recently graduated from Hano Agricultural College, he returned to the village fired with ideas about improving his bush land, but before long, he, too, had gone off to New Zealand.

His mother said he went to make money to buy fertiliser for his crops.

It may have been true, but by the time he returned to this country, he had decided that a farmer's life was too hard for him. He built himself a store in his front yard, acquired a stock of corned beef, tobacco and such essentials and there he sits day after day, tending store, gossiping with all

comers while the weeds on his bush land grow even higher.

Or consider another village youth, Rite. He held on to his money long enough to replace his family's packing case house with a new cement brick structure. With its louvred windows hung with gingham curtains, it is the most impressive status symbol in the village. Indeed, Rite is so proud of it that he has forsworn all ordinary work and sits at home all day guzzling home-brew until he falls into a stupor.

Is the labour scheme benefiting New Zealand?

I hope so. It is certainly not help ing Tonga.