The first three months of our Nomuka experience
have come and gone. We are now in the capital with time to reflect
as we hit the nightlife and enjoy simple comforts (electric fans,
toilets, showers, etc.). We spent a few days out on Fafa, a luxury
resort off the main island, Tongatapu, when we first got to town.
Fafa is beautiful -- probably the nicest place to stay in Tonga.
We had our own fale (house) and much privacy. Most guests spent
a lot of time on the beach. We spent most of ours enjoying the silence
only found away from the campus of Tupouto'a College. The food was
great -- real gourmet stuff, but it was a little difficult justifying
paying $41 for lobster, which we eat so freely in Nomuka (granted,
not served in a French sauce). But, of course, $41 Tongan is only
about $20 US and we don't spend much on Nomuka and are able to save
Another note about Fafa is that, while we were dying to get away
from Nomuka and be palangi for a while -- speaking English, wearing
bikinis (Rebek at least) and drinking cold beer (our first in three
months!), we ended up drinking kava and conversing in Tongan with
the staff one night, often embarrassed to be associated with the
other white guests' behavior and attitude towards the Tongans. It's
funny how outlooks can change so fast. We definitely felt more Tongan
back to Nomuka. We arrived at the end of
December for about a week and a half before going on our Christmas
adventure. We basically had just enough time to set up our house
and such and then left for the main island of Ha'apai to see our
friends and home stay family for Christmas. After finding out the
boat (the Siupeli - see
pictures in web site - the boat looks like a refugee boat) was
not in fact going to Ha'apai after all (for no particular reason),
we conferred with Elders Gilkey and Stodard, the two Mormon missionaries
(more on them later) who had been staying on Nomuka, and were told
that they were headed to Ha'afeva in the boat and would catch a
ride from there in the Mormon boat (smaller, but MUCH faster than
the aforementioned Siupeli). We took the chance and made it to Ha'afeva.
The Mormons were happy to take us, we found out, but not until the
next day. This gave us the opportunity to spend Christmas Eve with
Don, the lone PCV in Ha'afeva. Don was shocked yet happy to see
us. He busted out his finest box of Australian red, and we made
a pasta dinner. It was a great opportunity to get to hang out with
Don and get to know him better, as well as to see Ha'afeva. The
next day, Christmas, we hopped on the Mormon boat and headed towards
Ha'apai. The seas were a little rough, but the boat was fast. So
we headed off, on a boat with 15 or so Mormon missionaries wearing
white shirts, ties and name badges -- half are Tongan, half are
Utahan (or Idahoan or Californian) -- on Christmas, barreling through
the tropical seas, singing carol after carol and passing around
When we arrived, we saw our PC friends for a while
and then went to the beach with our home stay family. On the way,
we stopped at a few falekoloa (bodega) to find some Bounty to celebrate
our arrival. Bounty is Fijian rum that our group (and apparently
our home stay family) discovered during our attachment. It smells
a bit like paint thinner. We were not alone on our mission, and
soon found ourselves in a caravan of cars looking for one open shop
selling Bounty during Christmas. We finally scored, only to find
that nobody had Cokes for sale to mix it with. Oh well. The beach
was beautiful, as was the rest of our time in Ha'apai. We had a
Christmas party later on with the other PCVs, who were thoughtful
enough to make us stockings and stuff them with gifts. The rest
of the week was spent catching up with our family and partying with
Due once again to the whims of the Siupeli, Rebecca
and I found ourselves having to travel past Nomuka to the capital
in a larger boat in order to get home within a reasonable time.
We actually saw Nomuka from the boat, and really wanted to get home
to our new house. As it worked out, we spent New Years in Nuku'alofa
(surprisingly un-special despite being the first city to see the
New Year and all) and headed home.
The boat ride to Nomuka (on the Siupeli of course)
was fine except for the lack of space. Those tricky Tongans: if
we tried to lay down before the boat started they would call us
fakapikopiko (lazy), but as soon as we got moving it was a free
for all, with us losing all space to lay down. It was a pretty miserable
10 hours. We arrived in the middle of the night, and after scrambling
to find our kerosene lamps, inspected the place and went to bed.
We arrived just in time for 'Uike Lotu (prayer
week). The first week of January gives everyone (at least the Wesleyans)
a chance to make up for the sins of the past with a week of tri-daily
church services. We managed to go a good four times that week (pretty
impressive for a Jewish couple, I think) and hit a few feasts. It
is a nice time of year because there are events, feasts and lots
of people around. We were always seated at the place of honor at
the feasts, which made us uncomfortable at first. We would sit near
the ministers and high-ranking people and get the best food and
feel a little out of place. There is usually pig (whole), lobsters,
chickens, fish, noodle dishes, curries, lu (chicken, sheep, or canned
beef placed in taro leaves with coconut milk and cooked in the underground
oven), all the root crops, and so much fruit. At the high end sections
sometimes, there are even little bags of Bongos -- Tongan cheese
puffs. The way the feasts work is that the food is spread on the
floor or ground and there are mats (or coconut leaves if you are
outside) along both sides. The seating is arranged so that the important
guests start from one end in order of importance and it moves down
from there. Palangi (white folk) seem to get a lot of high end seating,
along with the Town Officer, the Faifekau (ministers), and other
people of assorted importance. In larger places, nobles and chiefs
would hold those places. After an initial prayer, everyone digs
in (literally) with their fingers and they just eat their way through
the food in front of them. No plates, no silverware. You just dig
into the pig (next to the spine is the best), or grab a whole plate
of fish and start eating, putting it down for others when you are
done. We were very respectful at first, only eating what was directly
in front of us. Now, we hunt around, finding the lobster, the fish,
the octopus, the pineapple and melon, the good palangi chicken and
so on. We had some turtle the other day and that was great. Horse
is a once-in-a-while treat, too.
As everyone eats, people will stand up and give
fakamalo (thank you speeches). During the speeches, nobody really
talks except to say 'io (yes) or malo (thank you) or mo'oni (truth,
or maybe something like 'word up' from the rap culture of not long
ago). Many people will give speeches and, finally, when everyone
is done eating, the highest guest will speak. Then, after another
prayer, it is time to go
but only after the wash bin is passed.
This is the best reason to accept sitting at the high end - the
bowl of water passed around can get pretty nasty even after the
first few people.
So far I have attempted three fakamalo. The first
was very simple and short. The second was a little better. And the
third was longer and, while choppy, was pretty cohesive for a spur
of the moment Tongan thank you speech. I intentionally started off
badly so that I could impress over the next few years with my improvement.
During this first week, I also hit a few kava circles.
The volunteer before me had the misfortune of finding out he was
allergic to kava after arriving in the place where the only social
activity for males is to drink it, so I think the men were interested
to see how I reacted. Kava is a root, which is mashed up and dissolved
in water. Most people buy little bags of kava for about $3. The
kava is mixed in big buckets and then poured into the kava bowl.
A to'a will serve the kava by ladling the kava into the cups, which
are half coconut shells filed down and smoothed. The men on both
sides pass the cups around in each direction, starting with the
person at the far end of the circle, who is usually the most important.
The kava cups seem to be only handled with one hand and chugged,
and then the cup is tossed back to the front. In Nomuka, where everyone
is related to everyone, there are rarely female to'a, even though
a female to'a is a prized thing. It seems like a few girls on the
island can do it, and any visitor is pressured to to'a, which Rebek's
cousin Nora can attest to.
The kavas during prayer week were called faikava,
which is a more formal type thing in the church hall. A kalapu is
a kava group, which usually has a name and clubhouse (such as the
kalapu kutufisi, or the flea group, so named for the other inhabitants
of their clubhouse). Kalapu collect money and actually do good things
around the island and church. Faikava seem to happen for other events,
like feasts or festivals
or before and after church.
The best thing in the kava circles is the music.
Many people are talented at ta me'a (direct translation, hit thing
meaning, play any stringed instrument). Within the room there might
be five or six kava circles, and two or three of these may have
a small group of musicians. A typical group has a regular tuned
guitar, a slack-key type tuned guitar, and a ukulele or two. Some
have a few of each. Once in a while you see a banjo (there is one
on Nomuka). Now, when I go, there is a mandolin too. The mandolin
(or pandolingi, as they call it) is a big hit (thanks Josh and Miriah!)
The groups will trade off songs, all sung out of homemade books
of songs collected over the years. Everyone in the circle will sing,
too. It is really beautiful to hear. Luckily, all the songs follow
simple patterns of three chords with some minor variations -- so
I can follow along. The slack key guitarist usually plays the lead.
With the mandolin, I usually get called to the biggest circle with
the best musicians, which is a nice in.
Besides the music, the typical kava circle conversation
has nothing over a typical high school keg party conversation. Jokes
center on everything from masturbation to the superiority of kava
palangi (liquor). This is not the case with pre-and post-church
kavas, as well as more formal kavas.
The kava buzz is different than any other
I know. It starts with a numbing of the mouth and throat. Later,
you start to feel a little lethargic and lazy. You need to urinate
after a while (you are drinking a lot of liquid) and, after you
break the seal, it comes fast and furious. You never feel quite
empty of liquid, even when you pee before bed. While I usually leave
before the end (after a few hours you have seen it all), it can
go until 3am or later. Most people cite an inability to get up the
next day - although, with the heat, I can't really imagine staying
in bed later than 10. Another common side effect often talked about
either sends the guys back to their wives or back to "husk
the coconut" (see common joke material above). If you are really
kona (drunk) you actually feel a little wobbly on your feet and
slur. There is a lot of smoking involved and candy or sugar cane
eating (the taste is not fantastic and your mouth gets dry). Look
out for a package coming to NYC...
Obviously church is a big part of prayer week,
as well as every week. A typical week at the Wesleyan church has
four early morning services (Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday).
These start at 5am, but the bells start at about 4:30. Sunday also
has the 10am and the 5pm services. There are other afternoon services
too, but I lose track.
The Wesleyan Church is the biggest in Tonga, as
well as in Nomuka. The other denominations found in Nomuka are Catholic,
Church of Tonga, Free Church of Tonga, and Mormon. The Catholic
Church is tiny and has no chairs, but seems to have a nice community
feel to it. We have been only once, with Corry and Jonathan, as
it is their church (here and at home). The service was short and
sweet as the priest only comes in one week out of six from Ha'apai
-- but there was an awful lot of calling out of Jews in the service.
Such lines as "and Jesus cracked his whip to disperse the money
lenders from the temple" turned me off a bit.
The Church of Tonga was an offshoot of the Wesleyan
Church, which was the first church in Tonga. The Wesleyan missionaries
got the jump on the Tongans before anyone else. I am not sure of
the differences in doctrine or belief between the two, but it apparently
wasn't enough for some folks, who then started the New Church of
Tonga. We have not been to either of these, but will try to at some
point. The Church of Tonga has beautiful churches with great colors
and spires and such. There seems to be a sizable Church of Tonga
group in Nomuka. The New Church of Tonga is pretty small.
There is currently some work being done to build
a new church, yet another offshoot of the Wesleyans. I am not sure
of the name, but it appears from my inquiries that the name is all
The Mormon Church in Nomuka, as in all of Tonga,
is the nicest, newest, safest structure on the island. They even
have a basketball court, which is sometimes used for dances, volleyball,
or tennis. Certainly NOBODY in Nomuka would use it for basketball
-- as basketball is a girls sport. And they play on grass (see netball
later). I have no idea why it is even there, but when we arrived
there were two Mormon missionaries from the States in Nomuka (see
above). Elder Gilkey is from Sacramento. He is 21 and, as of today,
is leaving Tonga after two years of service. He is 6'5" and
played junior college ball before coming on his mission. He is fast,
has great ball handling and shooting, and can dunk like Kobe Bryant.
He will probably go and play somewhere next year. Elder Stoddard
is 18 and just arrived before coming to Nomuka. He came from Salt
Lake and is 6'7". If Gilkey is Kobe Bryant, Stoddard is Greg
Ostertag's cousin. Big, slow and not a lot of 'ups'. He has a decent
six-footer though. And shooting over him is like shooting over an
Jonathan and I had played some two-on-two with
them during our attachment in December. It was a friendly game,
but with some undertones (which is the way to victory, the sinful
way of the PCV vs. the righteous lifestyle of the Missionary?).
We managed to take the last of six games after falling exhausted
on the court.
In Jonathan's absence, the three of us played a
lot of 21 (an every-man-for-himself game). I tried to make up for
my lack of height (and skill) with pure hustle (think back to last
summer, Josh and Jed). I found a strategy in which I would hustle
the ball down, as long as it was nowhere near Gilkey, use Stoddard
as a screen and drive. I would also distract them with remarks under
my breath (like Jesus Christ or God damn it). Either way, I lost
every game the first few days, usually falling exhausted after two
games of pure hustle, unused to the heat and exercise. On the last
day the boys were on Nomuka, I managed to stay close late into one
game by hitting five foul shots. I got myself to 19 points, a foul
shot away from victory, only to brick off the back of the rim. I
never played again.
The Wesleyan Church on Nomuka itself is quite a
structure. It has a round dome supported with giant curved wooden
beams. It has pews and stained glass. The services last about two
hours -- well longer than any other on the island - but, as my school
is Wesleyan and there is no synagogue anywhere to be found, it seemed
like the church to attend. There is a minister, but mostly other
people do the malanga, or speaking. My principal, Tupou, often leads
the service and is very good - loud, with lots of hand gestures
and he even sheds a timely tear. You can hear it from our house
when Tupou speaks. The services start with a hymn (which we sing
along with using our very own Wesleyan Tongan hymn book!), followed
by a prayer and a bible reading. Then another hymn followed with
the sermon. Finally there's some announcement and then another hymn.
The hymns are the best part, as they mark the time (church has started,
church is half over, or church is over!) and because the Tongans
are amazing singers. From the little babies to the old ladies, everyone
is belting out the gospel at full lung capacity and feeling it deep
in their souls.
There is a saying in Tonga. First, the white missionaries
came to Tonga and told them to put on their clothes. Now, the white
people come to Tonga and are told to put on their clothes. It's
quite a shame really. It is way too hot for all these clothes.
After church, we head home. Tongans wake up early
on Sundays to prepare the 'umu. This means preparing lu (wrapping
fish or meat in taro leaves, filling it with coconut milk, then
wrapping it in foil or banana leaf) and cutting root crop, and putting
it all in the 'umu, an underground oven. First, however, a fire
is made in the hole, and volcanic rocks are placed on the coals.
These heat up, and the food is placed on top. Then come some coverings,
such as old blankets, tarps, potato sacks, etc., followed with dirt.
After church, people rush home and feast.
Rebecca and I do not have an 'umu. So, unless we
want to eat some peanut butter on crackers (if we remembered to
buy some on Saturday -- all stores are closed Sundays), we have
to try and score some 'umu. A typical Tongan greeting can be na'a
ke kai lelei?, or te ke kai lelei? (did you, or will you eat well?)
On Sundays after church, this will be answered with a faka'ofa (pitiful)
or ikai...hala me'akai, (no...we have no food). This will hopefully
induce some pity in the form of some lu 'ika (fish lu) with some
kumala (sweet potato). It usually does. Baking a cake for the neighbors
on Friday or Saturday helps, as well.
You can see when the fishermen are out on Saturday.
Our neighbors are fishermen, both across the street and next door.
Nomuka, with its lack of electricity, has no refrigeration -- so
when fish come in it has to be given out to people or it will be
wasted. This works well in our favor, at least until electricity
comes to Nomuka (supposedly this year) or until I get better at
As of now, I can catch a few fish spear fishing,
but not the big ones. I have what I have found out is a night fishing
spear (I wish the folks who sold it to me for $80 had told me that).
It works well with sleeping or slow fish. So I need an underwater
flashlight. I also lack the thing that holds the fish once you catch
them, which is a metal spike with a line out to a buoy. This should
be easy to find, but so far I can't seem to acquire one. My neighbor
gave me a real spear, but I need to modify my slingshot to use it.
Some guys have very professional spear guns (mine uses a little
piece of rubber for propulsion). These shoot really far and are
able to catch giant fish.
So, all things considered, when I come in with
a small fish, I feel proud. Yet it will not feed us. Sometimes I
will catch a small fish and use it for bait on a line, but I still
have little success. Luckily, just the sight of me walking home
with one fish and my snorkel gear will prompt a few sympathy fish.
We have two sea kayaks. We take them our fishing,
or on small trips. The island across the way, Nomuka 'Iki, is beautiful
and uninhabited. Apparently it was a prison at one point as well
as a marijuana plantation. The only sign of either is the remains
of a fallen fale (house). There is also a boat wreck that was dragged
to the shore after a really sad disaster. The Tongans come to this
island for firewood, fishing
or picnics, kai me'akai (literally,
eat food). They ALWAYS go back before dark. They are afraid of devils
(tevolo, see below). We therefore can camp there in complete peace.
We have done this a few times, both with Jonathan and Corry and
just the two of us.
Jonathan had always dreamed of circumnavigating
Nomuka -- but, as he only had one boat, he was afraid (and smart)
not to try. We agreed long ago to do it, and with three weeks left
in his stay we felt that we had to pull the trigger that weekend
or we never would. We had visitors coming the next few weeks. We
made a plan: the girls would hike out to a beach on the North West
point and we would make the short run to the west after school Friday,
camp, and then make the rest of the trip Saturday. Unfortunately,
my birthday celebration was the night before, and the four of us
were up until 3am drinking lemon drop shots (we had the boys get
us a cooler of ice from the fisheries and lime from the bush) and
wine. Friday was a long day at school and by the afternoon I was
not feeling up to the row. The weather was bad as well, with showers
and kovi tahi (bad seas) pushing to the west. After an exhausting
two-hour decision-making process, I called it off until Saturday,
which had its benefits and disadvantages (such as breaking Sabbath
on Sunday and missing church -- a disadvantage for them, and advantage
for us). So Saturday, Jonathan and I headed off in similarly bad
sea while the girls hiked the tents and such to the beach.
We were pushing east, against the wind and seas,
to get the long leg over with first. It was really rough, and when
we hit the eastern edge we had been going a measly two miles per
hour for all our effort. We parked in a little lagoon and walked
around the bend to peer at the seas on that side. It was the roughest
I had seen, and with the reef and the rocks on that side I was a
little skeptical. We walked further around the bend and saw that
the situation only got worse the further we went. I saw Jonathan's
heart sink as we decided to turn back and do the Western leg to
the beach and feel it out the next day. We then started back toward
home, coasting with the wind, until we got to the southwest corner,
a treacherous bend Rebecca and I had fought on our way to Lolofutu,
our favorite beach. Fearing the 15-foot breakers pushing east into
the rocky shore from 75 yards out and the strong current pushing
out to sea to the west, we managed to skirt the danger area and
turn the corner. It was then a short stint North to the camping
point. We stopped a little disheartened and set up camp, which turned
frustrating as the wind blew Corry and Jonathans' tent over repeatedly.
We started our fire thinking that we might all
just give up and hike home after dinner. But after a glass of wine
or two and clearing skies, we decided to stay and had a really nice
night. We woke up and it was a beautiful day. After breakfast, Jonathan
and I went for the long leg and had an amazing time. Every corner
was treacherous, but along the sides we got to see views we had
never witnessed. The north side faces deep, open ocean. Captain
Cook had sailed into Ahau beach, on the north side, and it was cool
to see it from out in the ocean knowing that it looked the same
now as it did then (actually, there were houses there back then
as the Nomukans lived at Ahau at the time. Now nobody lives on the
north side -- after a tidal wave destroyed the settlement a little
while after Cook's visit).
The east side of the island is covered in bluffs
and hills and some beaches we hadn't been to before. When we finally
turned the last corner, we stopped at our turning back point the
day before and celebrated our accomplishment.
Every morning at Tupouto'a College we have assembly.
The kids (55 of them) sit on the floor facing the front where the
principal has a desk. The teachers all sit on the sides. We usually
have a hymn, then a prayer, and then a sermon. I actually had to
lead one assembly. I managed to use the Old Testament, the good
old story of Noah. And I learned something too -- I never knew Jesus
was there to help Noah build the ark!
One day during assembly, the principal announces
"Please look to the back. We have a new student from America.
As you can see, he is even fatter than Poese. Treat him like a brother,
or I will hit you." Poese used to be the fat kid. Now we have
a new one. In the states, this would prompt a Columbine type reaction.
Luckily, the kid is actually from New Zealand and was all right
with this. He is in my Form 3 class and the first day I asked him
a question. The other kids tell me he doesn't speak any Tongan.
Fine, I try in English. This kid is like 15 and I can pretty much
say he doesn't speak any language. He is really obnoxious too. He
fits well into the fat kid role though, although I feel bad for
Poese - that was his thing. During our Sports Day at my school,
one of the mothers suggested a fat kid race. Poese won, but the
new kid got a lot of laughs by cutting across the field.
This fat kid is really pau'u (naughty). He is always
asking if it is time for lunch, or asking me questions like whether
I have a gun, or things like that. I am really upset about this
kid because my Form 3, while consisting of possibly naughty kids,
was only eight students and I could keep them all engaged all class
long. Now, with this fat kid, I can see I will have problems.
While the Form 3 was my pride and joy, Form 2 is
my nemesis: 24 kids, three textbooks, and two semi-competent English
speakers. And most are naughty. Poese is my savior. While not too
bright, he is always telling the class "Fanongo ki he palangi!
Tuku he longoa'a! (Listen to the Palangi! Stop the noise!) I always
give him candy.
My first attempt at discipline came about four
weeks into classes. I think Rebecca's cousin Nora was in Nomuka
at the time. The kids were out of control and I wrote three names
on the board, not really knowing what I would do. One was Siunipa,
our next-door neighbor, who is the cutest kid I have ever seen.
She comes over the fence to our house and plays with Rebecca a lot.
Another was Meki, a kid who always comes over as well and usually
is very sweet. The other is a really bad girl, Maletina. I don't
think I would let her over to the house if she tried. I decided
that I would just keep them for detention the following recess.
The other kids were dying to see me discipline the bad kids, just
to feel me out. I think they were disappointed that I didn't hit
Another teacher saw the names on the board and
took matters into his own hands. I think he hit them all. Siunipa
came over crying and apologized over and over and I almost cried
myself. I let them all off. Later in the semester I had another
bad day with Form 2. Rather fed up I asked them "Alright. I
don't know what to do with you all. Do you want me to hit you when
you are bad?" Yes's all around. "OK, really," I said.
"Raise your hand if you think I should hit you when you are
naughty." All hands go up. So not only was I determined to
follow through, Form 3 heard this and was ready to call my bluff
Nobody acted up for a while. I even brought a stick
to class. I finally had my chance when two Form 2 girls who sit
next to each other answered the first question to a quiz with the
same three, totally wrong answers. The question was: what are the
three types of forces?
The answer is Push, Pull, Twist. These two wrote
"Breeze, ice, boat." I had to assume that maybe they were
working together, as we have never used those words in class. I
called them to stay after class. Everyone was trying to stay and
watch, but I told them to move on. Even Form 3 was outside watching.
One girl is 11, but is about the size of some eight year olds. I
asked them if they cheated. No. I told them to tell me and it would
be much better than if they lied. No. I picked up my stick, thought
about it, and...
...made them write fifty times on the board "I
will not cheat." It took them all of lunch, but I think they
got off easy. The stick was retired, unused and everyone knows I
will not hit them.
These poor kids get hit all the time as it is.
By their parents, the teachers and even the prefects. If they put
paint in their hair (they love that) they get hit. If their hair
isn't short enough, they get hit. If their clothes are on wrong,
they get hit. If they are late...
I think I would go crazy in Tupouto'a College.
Here is a typical schedule:
7:30 arrive, clean the schoolyard
8:00 line up for inspection (if not dressed right, you get hit)
8:05 (or so) start assembly
8:30 (or so) start school. Some days there is lunch, some days not.
Most don't eat anyway. Friday is a fasting day.
3:00 or so, go home and change for work
3:30 or so, come back and work in the bush or school yard. Maybe
some will come over and mow our grass.
4:45 sports or exercise
5:30 go home, eat
7:00 night school
9:00 go home
Each step, of course, is preceded with prayer.
I don't think they mind, however, as it is a moment of rest. Monday,
Wednesday and Friday start with early church (5:00am or so). On
Saturdays they work in the family bush plots. Sunday is Church three
times and Sunday school.
Then again, they live in paradise. They are safe
and well cared for. They rarely have shoes and rarely need shoes.
They live outside of any bad influences available even here in the
city. No booze (except for the occasional batch of home brew). No
drugs. Not even TV or movies. They are really all good kids too.
I love all the kids in my classes
even the naughty ones. Someday
maybe even the fat one.
My favorite Tonga story so far:
During training, at the guesthouse where
the staff was staying, some guys were up drinking Bounty pretty
late. I think it was four guys and five bottles, or vice versa.
At about 3am, some dogs were barking out back. Someone threw a bottle
at the dogs and killed one. The guys, drunk and hungry, dug an 'umu
and cooked the dog.