Sioeli is the larger of the two. He is barrel chested and has hairy legs. His eyes are dark and mysterious, and although he seems very meek and quiet, I sense in him the ability to inflict great harm. His size is deceptive, for when sober, he is as quick and sure-footed as a cat. His form seems to accentuate the grace of his movements, but when drunk, he is slow and heavy on his feet. He is not a pretty drunk, and he is often inebriated, he is simply not pretty most of the time.

He does not speak English very well, nor I his language, but we manage to communicate on a very basic level. Quite often he speaks very softly, so that I have to strain to even hear him. At other times he is loud and boisterous, literally shouting in my ear. I don't know enough about him, or his culture, to know why he does this. I have never tried to find out more.

Sometimes I don't like Sioeli very much, especially when he steals from me when I am not looking. This hurts me a little that he would do this; so when I catch him, I hit him very hard. This hurts him a lot, but he does not cry out in pain, for that is not the Tongan way. Someone once called all Polynesians very tactile . . . I think whacktile is more to the point.

Sioeli seems to be a night person, for that is when I normally see him. I don't know what he does during the day, although he often comes to visit me at work. I am usually very angry when he does this, and have tried to discourage him from doing so. He doesn't seem to understand that I am there to work, not fraternise. He still comes.

I visited his home once, and did not like it. I was sickened, to be honest, that he could live in such a place. It was a dank, dark place, in the middle of a swamp. Refuse from the city was piled all around, and the stench was disgusting. I'm sure he felt my repugnance, though I tried to hide it, but he still greeted me warmly, with many of his friends. They all seemed to get on very well together, which surprised me. Sioeli is normally by himself when he visits me, and I suppose that I had considered him something of a loner. But in his home environment it seemed that this was not the case. He introduced me to all his friends, and they all wished to share something with me. It was a nightmare and I could not wait to leave.

Although Sioeli is his name, I rarely call him that. I usually call him "you little shit" or sometimes "you black bastard." He doesn't care, perhaps because he doesn't understand these words. When I think about it, he may be more of an acquaintance than a friend. He often embarrasses me when he comes to my home and my other friends a there. He bothers them with his drunken babble and never knows when to leave. It is very culturally sensitive to have him around, and sometimes he is just that ... a badge of respectability to be worn in enlightened company. But most of the time he is just a pain in the ass.

Paea is very different. He loathes my other friends,a nd though he will visit them if he thinks he can get something from them, he prefers the company of his own friends and family. Sioeli is nowhere near as discriminating. I think Paea is perhaps smarter, which probably isn't saying much. Neither have had the education I have had, and neither show any great intellectual prowess. but Paea is more cunning, and more alert. He is nowhere near as physically imposing as Sioeli, and perhaps nowhere near as dangerous, but he is more insistent, more committed,a nd much more determined.

He is actually quite a small fellow, which is strange considering the size of his mother. I met her once, the Matriarch of their family, and was quite surprised. She was big and fat, ridiculously fat, and at once I had judged her as being a worthless blob of blubber. But her offspring surround her like an army, committed to her, and to the family. They all look very much the same, and sometimes I cannot tell the difference between them. Many of her children seem to wander aimlessly about all day, after all, this is the South Pacific. But there is efficiency and discipline, in a way, and she binds them together so that they have a great sense of belonging. I cannot say I would like to exist in such an environment, for it is very different from the independant, nuclear family from which I came, but Paea seems happy. He once asked me why I live alone, and not with my family or friends. What a stupid question!

Paea's father is a worker, one of many of the faceless wage-earning multitude in this place. He is nothing. Paea himself seems to be following his father's footsteps (quite often literally), and I feel sorry for his lack of vision and independance. He will never achieve personal glory, but there again that is the Tongan way. To set oneself apart from the crowd is to have delusions of grandeur. In a society dominated by hierarchy, social mobility is not only unusual, it is also actively discouraged.

Paea is very strong for his size, and his body is what the gym set would call cut. He works very hard providing for his family, hauling produce from here to there continually. His family cannot afford a vehicle (and I doubt if they would have the brains to use it if they did), and so everything is done manually.

I have had many interesting discussions with Paea. His English is also poor, but the passion of his responses are such that communication is quite straight forward. He sees me as something of a leech, a parasite feeding on the blood of his country, staying only to suck th wounds I create dry, leaving he and his countrymen to heal the mangled flesh that remains. I find this amusing, especially as he and his friends will march off with anything not nailed down within my house. THey call their thievery sharing, and say it's culturally acceptable. I call it robbery, and thump them if I catch them. He says that it is wrong for me to be so wasteful, to throw things away which still have some utility. He used to scour my garbage for things he could use. I found this very annoying, and so now hide it from him.

I will admit that Paea has some legitimate grievances. He has been kicked out of a number of his previous homes by people such as myself, and on one occasion I think one of his brothers was killed. Palangi's seem to find he and his family somewhat distasteful, and tend to like to see them relocated. He has had quite a few altercations of this nature, and is now quite militant. I tell him that if his country is to develop it must dance according to the tune of the dollar, but he lives in the past. In this way he is something of a savage. He is particularly vocal when Sioeli is around. They do not seem to get on very well. Paea tells Sioeli that he is a mercenary, sellings his soul and his country for blood, too eager to accept the Palangi and his ways. Paea sees himself as the patriot, fighting the insidious diseases of occupation. The plagues of development; changes in diet, in lifestyle, in culture. Resolute unto the end. He is a joke.

I must admit that I do not have many friends, and so am I pleased to have Sioeli and Paea. Sometimes though, I wonder why I bother. They offer me nothing and take everything. When I am feeling sad, I wish that they were dead, the exploitative bastards. I suppose I do not understand them; they are so different, but I have no wish to know their ways. I am secure if I do not have to change, but to really know them I would have to. I would have to accept to be accepted. I would have to be more like them, and I am not ready for that. Sioeli after all, is only a mosquito, and Paea an ant ... what else could they be ?

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