I first heard about the volcanic eruption in Tonga when I received an emergency alert on my iPhone. Back in San Diego for the winter, I was surprised to see a tsunami alert for the entire California coastline. (We live in a condo overlooking Sail Bay; on a clear day, we have a view of the vast Pacific.) All we experienced was a high surf, but I was glued to the news about Tonga. Gunter and I had sailed into the port of Neiafu, in Tonga’s Vavau Island Group, during our world circumnavigation and have a special fondness for the area and its people.
Out of 181 countries in the World Risk Index, Tonga ranks only behind Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands for its vulnerability to natural disasters. The recent explosion of the Hunga-Tonga-Hunga Ha’apai volcano, located about 43 miles north of Tonga’s main island, shot ash and gas nearly 20 miles into the air. Much of that ash fell on Tonga’s islands, including airport runways and wharves, complicating initial efforts to reach and evacuate villages or bring them emergency supplies. Stored rainwater sources were also contaminated with ash. The majority of houses on some islands were destroyed. Not long after the explosion, Tonga’s primary internet and telecommunications cable was severed, and the country lost connection with the world.
The confirmed death toll so far, is three. Tongan officials said the Pacific nation’s practice of running tsunami drills had played a part in saving lives. The first airplanes since the Saturday, January 15 explosion finally arrived on the cleared runway on the following Thursday, carrying emergency supplies and water.
Tsunami waves may have been as high as 50 feet closest to the volcano. The sound of the final eruption that triggered the tsunami was reportedly like a bomb exploding. “Our ears were ringing,” locals said. “We couldn’t even hear each other.”
Tongans are no strangers to natural disasters. Cyclone Waka was one of the worst. Her category 4, 115 mph winds devastated the South Pacific in the waning days of 2001. We arrived in our catamaran Pacific Bliss a full nine months after the storm had wrought her damage, yet we came upon people in remote areas who were still suffering. For them, there was no government safety net, no FEMA disaster supplies, and no officials to help the stranded. We anchored in Hunga Lagoon and brought what supplies we had on board to the villagers on top of the hill. This is our story, excerpted from the second book in my “In Search of Adventure and Moments of Bliss” trilogy, “Sailing the South Pacific:”
Giving Is Receiving
Hunga Lagoon, Ika Lahi Resort, Vava’u, Tonga, August 2002.
Branches flailed against corrugated iron roofs. The wind rose like an approaching freight train, moaning through the shuttered windows and doors of the little village on the hill above Hunga Lagoon. Fierce gusts found their way deep into the homes of the huddled occupants, causing the flames of their kerosene lanterns to flicker and tremble. Entire groves of frangipani trees toppled like lines of dominoes. The angry wind had already ripped away their leaves and flowers. The delicate flowers of the hibiscus trees had disappeared; then the branches began to break.
But that was only the beginning of Cyclone Waka’s fury this past New Year’s Eve.
What a sadistic irony! Exactly two years after they appeared on television channels around the world––the first to celebrate the New Millennium––the joyous dancers of Tonga entered this New Year frightened and full of despair.
In Vavau, Tonga’s most beautiful and treasured island group, the sea slammed against the shorelines, devouring anything in its path. Waka destroyed docks, overturned boats, and ground churches, schoolhouses, and hospitals to rubble. Even in the relatively protected harbor of Neiafu, a catamaran broke loose of its moorings and flew right into Ana’s Waterfront Café, where for some weeks afterward, the owners continued to carry on business around it.
Most of the waterfront docks and structures had to be rebuilt. The governments of other South Pacific countries such as French Polynesia contributed workers and materials to rebuild schools and hospitals. Missions and charities rebuilt churches and handed out food necessary for survival. But for the inhabitants of Vavau, there was no such thing as government aid to rebuild.
Nine months later, these poor people are still recovering.
In Hunga, the village near where our yacht, Pacific Bliss, is anchored, the villagers staggered drunkenly in the wind as their homes fell around them, sand stinging their faces like icy sleet.
They ran for cover to whatever dwelling was still standing, carrying a few meager possessions with them. Coconuts thudded on roofs and cisterns with the force of exploding cannonballs. Shade trees were uprooted and torn apart until none were left standing in the little village. Every gust of wind hurled more branches and debris against any structures left standing until the landscape was finally flat.
Then came the rains.
Water rushed and swirled until horrid, twisting ravines replaced pleasant, tree-lined paths. When it was all over, the villagers struggled to rebuild their simple homes out of the muddy mess.
But then came the sun.
The rays shone mercilessly upon their barren and ugly world. They had no protecting shade. They labored under the sun’s cruel glare for weeks on end.
Afa, the storm, was over in a few days. But the devastation it wrought would seemingly last forever. During this time of misery, the villagers found it hard to believe that beauty would ever again come to Vavau.
But it has! Lush vegetation has returned to Tonga’s beloved Vava’u. Nevertheless, there’s no escaping the lasting after-effects of Cyclone Waka. Overturned boats and canoes still line the shores and reefs of the anchorages and lagoons. And the luxuriant new growth cannot hide Vavua’s uprooted trees, sawed-off tree trunks, and stacks of old wood. For the 80 percent of the population that lives off the land, recovery is painfully slow. It can take ten years for a coconut tree to bear fruit. Replanting right after the storm meant using nuts that the farmers could have used immediately for food. Newly-planted banana plants will not bear fruit until the following year. The most immediate crop is the papalangi (European) vegetables—such as tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, string beans, and cabbage—the produce that we have been enjoying here. These vegetables could be produced quickly and sold at the markets in Neiafu in return for nails and building materials. Fish from the sea, of course, was another source of income.
Günter and I have enjoyed all the bounty that Vava’u has to offer for over a month now. We have purchased fresh produce at the market every time we return from gorgeous anchorages to the port in Neiafu. We have feasted our eyes on the lush landscapes, pearly beaches, and multihued rock formations of the islands. We have frolicked and snorkeled in the emerald green waters of the lagoons. By the time we anchor off the Ika Lahi Gamefishing Lodge in Hunga Lagoon, Günter and I have decided that we want to give back.
I consider how to go about it. In the past we have had unfortunate experiences with giving to village chiefs and matriarchs. We would find out later that our gifts were not distributed to the needy families and children. Many times, our donations were resold for profit.
How we decided to give back to the locals in Hunga Lagoon is told in Part II of this story.
Click here to read Part II of this series. For Part III, click here.
About the Author: Lois and Günter Hofmann lived their dream by having a 43-foot ocean-going catamaran built for them in the south of France and sailing around the world. Learn more about their travel adventures by reading Lois’s award-winning nautical adventure trilogy. Read more about Lois and her adventures at her website and stay in touch with Lois by liking her Facebook page. Lois’s books can be purchased from PIP Productions on Amazon.
SailorsTales 
January 22, 2022 at 8:14 am
What a gripping story, weaving present volcanic disaster together with earlier catastrophic cyclone. We tried our best to help especially older people whose children had left the island taking away the traditional generational support system. We were touched by the dignity and appreciation we encountered making us taking a look at our life and feeling grateful.
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January 22, 2022 at 2:41 pm
Great story and I’m glad you weren’t affected my this years tsunami’s waves in CA.
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