Malo. Malo he hiva.

These words are spoken in virtually every church service in Tonga.  “Thank you.  Thank you for the music.”

Music is one of the constants in Tongan culture, right up there with food, napping, rugby and joking.  When I first arrived at home-stay training, I would sit out in front of the house and watch the youth go strolling by, loudly singing with repetition.  I soon realized they were practicing their hymns.  Everyone takes their hymnal to church and they are dutifully opened when it’s time to sing praise, but Tongans usually don’t have to look at the words – they’ve sung these hymns since childhood and know them by heart.  They also know their own part of the song, since men usually sing different phrasing than the female voices.  How they know alto from bass and soprano from tenor is the subject of this post and should only be read by the brave.  It concerns sheet music which I can not read in any language, and thus, I can not at all begin to explain Tongan sheet music.  It's quite different and I will rely on our friend, Wikipedia, to help explain.  So, here goes:

"The Tu’ungafasi or Tongan music notation is a subset of the standard music notation, originally developed by the missionary James Egan Moulton in the 19th century for singing church hymns in Tonga.

Tongan music from the pre-European times was not really music in the current sense but rather a non tonic recital (like the 'pater noster'), a style still known nowadays as the tau fakaniua. Therefore when the missionaries started to teach singing, they had also to start with music from scratch. They found the doh-ray-mi-fah-sol-la-si-doh scale sufficient for their needs, avoiding the very complex and difficult to learn international music notation. But due to the limited number of consonants in the Tongan language, the note names were localised into to-le-mi… Unfortunately the word 'tole' is a vulgar expression for the vagina, and as such not to be used.

Moulton then developed a system where the main notes were indicated with the numbers 3 to 9, while a strike to the digits was used to sharpen them, for example: 7, being 7# or 8b. At the end the full 12 notes of the octave became: 3-3-4-4-5-6-6-7-7-8-8-9, which are pronounced as: to-lu-fa-ma-ni-o-no-tu-fi-va-a-hi, (variants of the Tongan numerals 3 to 9 being tolu, fā, nima, ono, fitu, valu, hiva). To extend the single octave (midi octave number 4) into the next higher, a dot can be put above the number. To reach the next lower, a dot or a little tail can be put under them.  If needed 2 tails can be taken to arrive at even lower pitches, but that is rare.  After all the notation is made for human singing, it does not need to have the extended range of musical instruments.

The Moulton notation, or Tongan notation was extremely popular and is still cherished by the Tongans. It is extremely common to see bandmasters writing out the music on the blackboards in the church halls during choir practices."  
I saw the following at Siasi o Tonga in Ha'apai in April.  It definitely is still being used.

Pitch

"Tongan singers recognise up to 4 voices, which results in the typical 4 lines of numbers in the notation.  The leading voice is called 'fasi', a male voice.  The next one is kānokano or alto, a female voice.  The third is the tēnoa or tenor, and the last one the laulalo or bass.  Occasionally the bass sings a different lyrics than the rest.  The middle octave (of the 3 octave range mentioned above), varies with the voice, the kānokano is usually one above the tēnoa, while the laulalo is one below.  In addition the exact position of the middle doh or C depends on the key signature as in this schedule: When 3 notes are shown, the fasi and alto are together on top, the tenor is in the middle, and the bass is on bottom.  When 2 notes are shown, the tenor and bass are taken together, as otherwise the basses would come too low.  Some musicians, however, take the bass octave always equal the tenor, causing for some signatures the bass coming too high.  Then they need 2 tails under a number to reach a really low note.

Duration

The duration of a note is not indicated by a different symbols, as in the international music notation but by the number of notes in a beat.  The more notes in a beat, the shorter each has to be.  For example in the fasi ʻo e tuʻi ʻo e ʻotu Tonga (national anthem), we find as first measure: |3:-3/5:5|6:4/5:-5|

Every vertical bar (|) is a measure separator (often double at the begin and end of a stanza).  As this music has a 4/4 time signature

|3:-|-:-| is an example for a 2/4 time signature; 2 beats in a measure, every beat a quarter note long.  This results in a whole C. Note that the tie dashes can extend into following measures, unlike the international music notation where the note is to be repeated and then tie arcs are needed.  Some Tonga musicians following that example would also write a 3 in the second measure instead of a dash and also would then need tie arcs.

More time signatures

In 2/4 (like |3:4|) and 3/4 (like |3:4:5|) and 4/4 (like |3:4/5:6|) time signature every beat is a quarter note. Two digits (…:34:…) makes each an eighth note; have four digits (…:3456:…) and each is a sixteenth.  Three digits (…:345:…) are possible, the first one being a quarter and both others each an eighth, but might be confusing.  Some musicians put a comma or dot inside the beat (…:3,45:…) to remind the singers of the unequal duration.  But the real use is with a tie (…:3-4:…), to have a 3/8 note followed by a 1/8.

2/2 and 3/2 signatures are rarer, but work the same as the …/4 signatures except that all beats are twice as long.  One digit in a beat being a half note and so forth.

Occasionally one finds 6/8 (like |3:4|) and 12/8 (like |3:4:5:6|) time signatures. Then every single digit is a 3/8 note, while the most common occurrence is 3 digits in one beat, (…:345:…) each of them of course one eighth. Also here two digits are possible, the first one being a quarter and the second an eight, but again with all the pitfalls as the 3 digits in the …/4 notation. It is mainly used for (…:3:-4:…) meaning a 5/8 note followed by a 1/8."
If you've gotten to this point, thank you for your patience.  Maybe you are a musician like Dick or Zac and (hopefully) find this instructional and/or informative.  I just find it fascinating - choirs sing these pages like reading their favorite love story.

Note: My counterpart at work is (the best) fai hiva (choir director) at our church and was good enough to share some of his choir's music.  Thanks Tatafu.
Malo.  Malo he hiva.

I'm a big fan of Tonga

So, it's Sunday morning and I'm dressed in my Sunday best, after battling the bad self telling me to stay home this week.  It's a little before 10 am and already the humidity is rising.  So, fan in hand, I'm heading off to church.  Since it's the weekend and I don't have internet at home, I take my iPhone so I can get onto the Church wireless network and check email before singing hymns I don't know. While reading email, I find out that my counterpart at work is the choir director this week, so I offer silent support and sit behind the choir on the left side of church, instead of the right side where I usually sit.  This, of course, leads me to exit by a different door than usual. 


Since there are no coincidences in life, it is no surprise that I come to the door at the same time as a lady I've never seen before.  She smiles, makes a complimentary remark about my Sunday best and I end up walking with her to the parking lot.  We exchange names and that I am with the Peace Corps, etc.  Without skipping a Tongan beat, she says, 'Do you want to come to my house with me for a kaipola (feast)?"  Without skipping a Tongan beat to reply, I say 'malo' and silently say to self "show me the way to the spit roasted pig."  After all, a respectable feast must have at least one roasted puaka.


As we are driving to her home, there's small talk about what I am doing here and why can't she get a Peace Corps volunteer for her business?  I inquire as to what that business is and she says she has a retail shop.  I clarified her name and made the connection to a prominent shop in town with the same name.  She smiled, acknowledged they were one and the same and soon arrive at her house.  It was the the most modern, well appointed, well maintained and beautiful home I have seen in Tonga, never having been in an embassy or one of the noble's homes.  Long story short, she and her (new) husband were just married last week and his family is preparing the food for the kaipola in their honor.


It turned out to be one of those 'you always have the best time when you fight going' days.  The family was gracious, welcoming, didn't bat an eyelash that there was a palangi hanging around.  We  were 40 hungry souls and the food was bountiful and delicious...puaka, otaika (raw fish in coconut cream), kumala, sweet and sour chicken, potato salad, manioke and all the other requisite feast dishes.  The speeches were passionate and tearful and even propelled me out of my chair to lend my thanks for the hospitality and red wine and blessings to the bridge and groom.  


One of the bride's family gave me a ride home.  No matter that the muffler got pulled loose backing out of a bush driveway.  We dropped a lady off a short way away, a couple of young guys pulled up, inquired as to the muffler situation and in the middle of an afternoon rain squall, they were able to quickly do Tongan repair and get us on our way.


We all know the jokes about always leaving home wearing good underwear in case you end up in the hospital.  As I reflected on the day, I thought how important it is to wear your Sunday best.  After all, you may end up at a respectable feast with at least five roasted puaka.


'Ofa lahi to the bride and groom.  I'm a big fan.