Groundhog Day

Wake up at 5:30 a.m., to the imposing sound of ringing church bells, do 500 jumping jacks in a vain attempt at losing that Tongan flab.

Haul water.

Make coffee using our French press. Pray to God of small things that French Press lasts another day.

Eat unsweetened yogurt that tastes exactly like sour cream. Ask your spouse if that was, in fact, sour cream.

Walk to school as every child in the village waits for you to pass so we can all walk together.

Alternately think, its cool having a posse and get these smelly things away from me!

Come to school, eat the cake the teachers bring for breakfast. Immediately think, “Oh shit! I promised myself I wouldn’t eat that today.”

Plan for class. Grimace as children remove crackers and Tongan bread from their pockets and offer it to you as a sign of respect.

Teach the kiddos.

Eat “healthy” lunch you prepared for yourself during break.

Eat unhealthy lunch the teachers force down your throat in yet another, sign of respect.

Hope in vain some kid will bring you a coconut to drink.

Walk home, as all the kids walk in a parallel line next to you, blocking any pigs, horses, chickens, goats, sheep or dogs who are trying to cross the road.

Haul water.

Cook relatively healthy dinner.

Wait for the ‘kole’s’, a.k.a. ‘asks’, where each villager will come to the house and request help. Grant writing, tutoring, medicine-dispensing, cake cooking just to name a few.

Receive food from grateful villagers as they wait with bated breath for you to take each bite.

Feed leftover food to Lucky. Listen to your spouse berate Lucky for his weight, which tends to yo-yo.

Console Lucky.

Haul water.

Watch spouse squeeze the ooze out of infected sores that never seem to heal.

Take a bucket bath.

Collapse under the mosquito net to get away from the bugs.

Sneak a cookie, piece of chocolate or anything sweet in the fridge your spouse doesn’t know about.

Look at the moon, think of family and friends back home.

Watch a movie on the computer and pass out.

Wake-up to the sound of church bells (again), look at yourself in the mirror and think to yourself: “where did all this flab come from?!?!”

I've been there, Bill.