The taxi driver leans on the hibiscus flowers draped over the car dashboard to flash us a grin.

“There’s three things here in Tonga that matter most.” He counts them on his fingers.

“One, family. Two, family. Three, family.” His laughter rises above the radio chatter.

The man has a point. During my time in Tonga the sense of family and community was ever-present, everywhere. Handshakes, nods, calling out to friends from car windows and sidewalks are constant.

If there was a fourth Tongan value it would likely be food. Giving hospitality with food is valued in most cultures and is very true of Tonga. As a guest at various events I frequently had to discourage the local hosts from loading up my plate with more and more helpings.

Understandably, a fuller figure has also been a point of celebration. It’s perhaps no coincidence then that Tonga’s late King Tāufaʻāhau Tupou IV weighed in at over 200 kilograms, making him the world’s heaviest monarch during his reign.

At the annual Church conference tables struggle to support the feast laid on them. These week-long events are noted in calendars well ahead of time — for good reason. Each village takes turns preparing one of the four feasts that take place each day. A local doctor confided that it’s not unheard of for eight people to share two or three roast suckling pigs among them on these occasions.

No one would be shocked then to hear that while rising sea levels slowly eat away at Tongan shores, waistlines in the kingdom have burgeoned. The island nation is now one of the most obese countries in the world and health officials suspect that Tonga’s life expectancy has regressed.

The quality of the food is as concerning as the quantity consumed. While few Kiwis and Australians dine on turkey tail or mutton flap, we flood Tongan supermarkets with these fat-laden “junk” meats. Although we deem them unhealthy for domestic consumption, we don’t hesitate to export them to our poorer neighbours. Cheap, plentiful and rich in fat, they have played no small part in supersizing the Tongan populace. Equally, white bread and cans of Coca-Cola and corned beef now fill kitchens replacing the fish and fresh vegetables of the traditional Tongan diet.

A storeowner held up a frozen meat pack entirely covered in fat. “What is it?” I asked. ”Chicken from the US,” she replied shaking her head.

This change of diet in Tonga has happened fairly quickly but the effects on public health have come more slowly and are widespread. It is alarming. Tonga’s health budget is blowing out as the incidences of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) such as diabetes, hypertension and heart disease have exploded. Around two in three of all hospital admissions are now due to NCDs.

Just as this tsunami of health problems has been building up for years, it will take many years for it to recede. Fortunately, progress is being made. The high incidence of NCDs in the last decade had been a wake-up call in Tonga and now all levels of society — from government to households — have begun to address the problem of obesity. Public health campaigns have sprung up all over Tonga in an acknowledgement that while the adult population has borne the worst of the NCD epidemic, the next generation can be spared.

Primary schools have begun planting vegetable gardens and children are learning to eat and cook healthy meals with regional produce. Locals are re-learning that the long-ignored breadfruit trees growing plentifully around the islands are an excellent source of nutrition. Exercise programmes have popped up in local communities encouraging people to get moving. Billboards warn of the dangers of tobacco and excessive sugar consumption and taxes drive up the price of fatty foods.

All measures are urgently needed to turn the tide and ensure that Tongan children grow up healthy and happy. It will take all sectors of the community to reverse some of these effects within a generation, but given that it takes a whole village to raise a child, Tonga’s love of family stands it in good stead. 

Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 222, December 2017: 27