A small exchange

I already felt like an outsider, a white girl on an island in the middle of the South Pacific, but the three teenage girls teasing me made it much worse. Tonga usually lives up to its name, the friendly islands, but, at times (as it is world-wide), kids can be punks. And, let's admit it, I made an easy target: face red from the heat, walking bent forward to counter-balance the weight of my back-pack, sweat forming a crescent on the neck of my shirt.

The three adolescents had started following me at the bottom of the hill, whistling, making noises, giggling; I ignored them and pushed on towards my office. They continued to follow me, asking, in Tongan, if I'd give them money, if they could have a camera, etc. Then one said, "I'm thirsty; give me your soda."

I turned and they froze. "Thirsty?" I asked in Tongan. I held out the Coke I had been carrying. They eyed me warily, then looked at the offering and nodded. One crept forward, extending her hand for the treat. Once she had it in her grip, I yelled "HAH!" and took off running up the hill. When the group realized it was an empty can, they started sprinting after me, shouting. I had a good head start on them, so I reached my office, just in time to shut the door and stick my tongue out at them from the window.

We were all laughing.