How Tonga got its King
Live and let live
The following story may not be entirely true, or verifiable. But that’s how I heard it, a long time ago, told by a friend of Tongan origin.
Mafu was my friend from Tonga. We’ve (my wife and me, that is) met him shortly after we arrived in the US, and we took a liking to each other, almost instantly. He was a stout guy, very strong: he came to the US to play football but was injured in his first year. After that, he got married and started a landscaping business.
He’d visit us frequently. We’d sit around, talking, drinking beer, shooting the breeze. On one of those occasions, all of the sudden, he asked:
Hey, do you know how Tonga got its king?
No - I replied.
Well, once upon a time, there weren’t that many people in Tonga. Some were sitting by the fire, chatting, not doing much. All of the sudden, one of them got up and said:
Hey guys, you know what?
What? - replied others.
From now on, I’m going to be your king!
Other meekly looked at him, and, after a short pause, shrugged their shoulders and said:
And? - I asked, expecting more.
That’s it, the end of the story - said Mafu, smiling.
I was left speechless.
Is it true? - I asked, amazed.
Yes, it is, that how I heard it from my grandpa - Mafu replied.
The beauty and poetry of this story still resonate with me. It would be nice if all the people are like ancient Tongans.