Tongan Update, 04 June 2008 Mission Magic, The Vanishing Act
Not long after we were married, John and I went to Las Vegas to see Siegfried and Roy’s Magic Show. We had heard from friends that these magicians not only made lions disappear, but also made elephants vanish before your eyes. That’s kind of what happens on a mission—only it’s people who disappear from our lives.
Like “wala ka bam”…our family and friends slipped out of sight. We got on one little airplane, and the world as we know it vanished.
Every six weeks we have transfers…and “wala ka bam”…the office missionaries and the APs (Assistants to the President) disappear to other islands and other assignments.
Our sweet helper at the mission complex, Pele, just retired.
She is a Tongan woman who greeted us the first day we arrived here with a “malo e lelei,” and that’s about the extent of our verbal communication with each other ever since. She speaks little English, and we speak even less Tongan. We’d all do the smiling, miming, pointing, waving acts for each other. It was at her retirement party that we actually found out about her life. She has five children. After their fifth child was born, her husband decided to go to New Zealand to see if he could find a better job to help support the family. They never heard from him again, and Pele was left with raising their kids. She has had several different jobs, but ended up working at the mission office for eight years. She’s been our overall maintenance person-- sweeping, washing windows, dusting, emptying garbage cans, and doing general clean up.
“Wala ka bam!” She’s gone. Elder Thompson and I had a difficult time saying good-bye to her. Why is the vanishing act so darn hard on us?
I came up with a theory. See what you think?
When we left our family and friends, it left big holes in our hearts. In fact, it felt like our hearts were taken out and trampled on by one of those Las Vegas disappearing elephants. But as we make new friends and have positive experiences, we figuratively place band-aids over the holes in the pulsating organs that sustain our lives. We reach a level of comfort. But then we have the “vanishing act”, a band-aid is ripped off exposing our open wound. Then we feel all the pain of losing a new friend plus the pain of leaving home. It becomes a double whammy! Does that make sense?
I guess we need to get a giant box of band-aids and just toughen up!
Then there’s the gal that we wish would disappear. The other day a young gal from our Branch asked us if she could borrow $40. She needed it to help pay her mortgage and would pay us back in one week. What could we say? “Why of course we could help.” Two days later, 10:30 at night, she needed a ride to other side of the island because her sister had Dangue Fever and needed her help to tend the children. “Why of course we could help.” The next day she said she needed help with her water bill. Guess how much this time! $150…$150! “Whoa…can’t help this time!” She settled for $3 for the bus ride home. It’s not over yet. She came asking AGAIN. This time she needed more money AND a ride to the other side of the island because her sister was still sick. “Sorry…we just cannot help out anymore!” We haven’t seen her for a while. Where did she go? She vanished along with the $40.
We would like to help all the poor people here, but we just can’t go into the “bank and loan” business. Senior Missionaries are not to get involved in finance matters with members or non members! We learned our lesson.
‘Ofa ‘atu, John and Diane
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