Pourquoi Story

This is my Pourquoi story about how Ngatu (Tapa cloth) came to Tonga because last week was Tongan language week. After I wrote my story, I had to work with a critical friend who used DRAFT (A writing framework) to make my story better.

How Ngatu Came To Tonga

Somewhere, some place, beyond the Seven Seas lived a small village. Now, they were not an ordinary village, they were fierce and known around the country to be undefeated and bloodthirsty. In this particular village, there was a boy who did not want to follow the way of his male ancestors or other men in the village. He did not want to be a warrior. He was quiet and peaceful, unlike the other boys in his tribe. His father, who was the battle commander of the village tried to train him to be like him, but gave up quickly.

The boy was lonely, he had no friends. The other boys were either wrestling or practising with their spears. Usually, he wandered around in the beach throwing rocks and shells or he strolled through the forest. The whole tribe thought he was a coward because he refused to even touch a weapon.

He liked to muck around with clay and bits of tree bark. He found out that the clay could be used to draw pictures on the tree bark. The boy used the paper mulberry tree most of the time because it mixed well with the clay. He mostly lay quiet, spying and stalking the birds and other creatures, drawing them till the sun went down and dusk approached.  

One day, he stayed late and worked with the moon shining down on him. Meanwhile, his father went looking for him and found him. Soon the whole village knew what the boy did when he disappeared for long periods of time. The boy was locked in his room and the door only opened when someone brought him food. After awhile, another village declared war, and this time there was no escape for the boy. He found himself walking with other men and boys his age, with a spear in his hand. The raid was bloody and awful, with men shouting war cries and screaming in pain. Men fell left and right with blood pouring from their wounds. Still, the warriors kept charging at their foes. Of course the boy’s village won, being the best fighters in the valley.

After the raid, the boy ran away to his secret hiding place a drew for what seemed like days and nights. He drew so much that his fingers bleed and were very sore. He drew flowers, fish swimming in a ocean, his village and himself. He put all of his effort into creating this extravagant piece of what is now called art. He used lots of clay and a whole tree to make this painting, which was meters long.  

When the boy finished, he took his piece of art and showed the villagers, who were awestruck in amazement. They were all thinking things like: how could this useless and cowardly boy, create something that looked as pretty as that.

After that, the villages learnt three things: that everyone had a skill that they were good at, that they could not expect people to do the same as others and the villagers learnt how to make their very own drawing. They called the drawing Ngatu after the boy that created it.