M/Y Iron Lady

I was up bright and early Monday just to be sure that Officialdom didn’t come by the boat and leave because they thought we were asleep. Needless to say, the missed sleep was all I got in the bargain. The commercial container ship rolled in and they were all aboard her instead of us.

Finally, about 9 AM a car pulled up with 2 official looking folks aboard. They pronounced that they were Immigration and Health Inspection (just in case we were bringing in Bubonic Plague or something worse). Another round of paperwork, small talk and Cokes dispensed with our last ice and we were pronounced clear. Then there was the matter of agreed fee. I was rather smug when Mr. Health asked for 100 Tongan Dollars instead of the $120 quoted by Mr. Customs on Saturday (one Tongan Dollar equals one US DOllar).

As they got ready to depart, I went out to take down the “Q” flag and was quickly told not to. We still had to be seen by Mr. Quarantine. I almost hated to ask because I knew the answer – Mr. Quarantine was aboard the container ship and would be for several more hours. We asked if there was any way to expedite the process and Mr. Immigration placed a cell call to Mr. Quarantine and was advised that he would be over shortly.

Another hour later (that is “short” by Tongan standards), Mr. Quarantine showed up with Mr. Customs – one in the same who had seen us on Saturday. Mr. Customs completed his paperwork including the forms he did not have on Saturday and we filled out a few more forms for Mr. Quarantine. Mr. Quarantine then said it would be necessary for us to turn over all of our fresh fruit and vegetables to him for destruction as we could not bring them in to Tonga. We obviously knew that the only place they were going to get “destroyed” was in Mr. Quarantine’s kitchen. We obviously protested and swore that we only had a week’s worth on board for our own consumption and we would never, never, ever bring them ashore. Mr. Quarantine relented, but there was more to come.

Mr. Customs had completed his paper work and pronounced that we owed him his $120. I politely told him I had given the money to Mr. Health. I was them politely informed that that money had been for Messrs. Immigration and Health as their fee was separate. I grudgingly parted with another $120 knowing full well that I now was going to have to deal with Mr. Quarantine who didn’t get our fruit and veges.

I went ahead and asked and Mr. Quarantine solemnly pulled out an ancient calculator held together with masking tape from his bag. This really looked ominous. I had serious doubts that the calculator even worked. After carefully entering numbers for what seemed like minutes, his final pronouncement was that we owed $43 and 25 cents. I have no idea how he came up with the number, but I was out of Tongan money. So while Officialdom sat around drinking our coke and using up our ice, I had to make the 1/4 mile hike to the ATM (hoping it would work).

Upon my return, I presented the $43 to Mr. Quarantine (he asked for the 25 cents which I didn’t have) and magnanimously agreed to forgo it.

Now we were finally official. On their way out, we were told that they could not provide us with any receipts today for what we had paid – no reason given. Note that they did not say that we could get a receipt tomorrow or any other day for that matter – just not today for sure – and most likely forever if we chose to wait.

Deb was furious with them. She really went over the top when they asked her how old she was. I just wanted to get out of jail and Dodge as quickly as possible. The wheels of Officialdom grind very slowly here and could quite possibly cease to turn all together if you get on the wrong side of these folks.

Nuku Alofa is now happily in our wake – we were tossing the lines as the last of Officialdom’s feet were leaving the boat. Nomuku here we come.

Last night, at the suggestion of some local people, Deb and I went to a candle light service at a nearby church. The beginning of the service was conducted outside by a bonfire and after singing hymns, candles were lit and everyone processed in to the church.

The service was in Tongan, so it was a bit difficult to get it all, but it took the form of the Easter Story with passages being read from the bible interspersed with hymns and the homily. While Catholic, it was quite different from other Catholic services we have attended. In the pews, there were no bibles, hymn books or orders of service. There was no organ, piano or choir. All the singing – and it was awe inspiring – was by the congregation.

As we gathered it, this service was even more important then the Easter Day service. It almost felt like and took the form of a vigil and, while we did not stay for the whole 4 hour affair, my sense that it continued until after midnight welcoming in Easter Day.

The following short clip starts with the candlelight procession followed by a part of the service. Due to size limitations, the footage has been greatly compressed, but, hopefully, you can get a sense of the service and the people including their traditional dress.

Happy Easter.

On Friday (Thursday US time) we made land fall at Nuka Alofa on Tongatapu Island in Tonga at 11 AM. Just shy of 5 days and just over 1200 nautical miles from our departure point in New Zealand.

In that this is “island time”, customs was closed at the time of our arrival and won’t open until Saturday – thus we are stuck aboard with the “Q” flag up until we are cleared. Debby was bummed out as she was ready to be off to town (I use the word advisedly). Instead, we used the afternoon to clean up Iron Lady from the passage and blast off all of the accumulated salt.

After and early dinner of Whahoo steaks with a nice red wine, we were all off to bed early to catch up on a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

Next morning the mission was to clear Customs and Immigration. You are supposed to advise before arrival that you are enroute. Only problem is that nobody would answer the phone and we have been calling since we left New Zealand. Lots of people stopped by this morning and tried to help but to little avail. No one was at the Port AUthority Office, nobody responded to our VHF calls. With the additional help from the locals, we now have 7 different phone numbers for Customs and Immigrations – none of which answer.

One fellow who stopped by was a Tongan back for a fishing tournament from the US. When he heard we were from Pittsburgh, he told us he knew Troy Polamalou well. He now lives in Palo ALto and promised to say Hi to son George when he went back – small world.

Finally, we got someone to answer as a result of a local guy calling the customs guy on his cell. The response was to move the boat to the fuel dock and they would come around in 45 minutes. We tried to move the boat to the fuel dock, but it was too small for us and occupied by other boats so we moved back to our original spot. Now several hours had passed and finally he showed up – very apologetic – we should have called and he would have come yesterday. Oh well – no sense in pursuing that one.

At the end of our clearing in, he said that he would take care of things, but we were not strictly legal because he didn’t have all the necessary forms and he couldn’t raise any of the Immigration people. We were allowed off the boat illegally, but would have to stay at our present spot until Tuesday (it is now Saturday) when he would bring the Immigration people around. As a “by the way”, his “fee” for this service was $110 Tongan which we, of course, did not have since we couldn’t get off the boat.

No worries, he would collect the extortion Tuesday. Once we agreed – miracle of miracles – there was a commercial boat clearing in on Monday and he could take care of us early Monday instead of Tuesday.

We offered our profuse thanks and he was on his way – loading his pockets with fresh fruit from our fruit bowl as he departed.

We used to say when in the Bahamas that “It’s the Bahamas Mon” – well – it’s Tonga Mon.

More later.