July 14, 1999Writes John Hamilton, courtesy of MELBOURNE HERALD SUN
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"I AM", said His Majesty King Taufa'ahau Tupou IV, "one of the very few people in the South Pacific who can play the balalaika." The King of Tonga, 81, and one of the last absolute monarchs on earth, sat on a wooden throne in the privy council room of his royal palace in his capital, Nuku'alofa and mused a while. " When I was in Russia many years ago I bought a balalaika," he went on in his deep, rumbly voice, "KGB agents were following me around so they put a paragraph in my dossier at their headquarters that I played the balalaika. "Well, from that time on, every Russian ship that called at Tonga bought me a balalaika ... I ended up with 17 or 18 so I had to start giving them away because they were filling up our storeroom." The king laughed , a deep rumbly laugh. He had just waved his big hand at his military aide-de-camp sitting at a chair well beneath him, as is the custom, and issued an abrupt order. His Majesty sent for the guitar given to him by Queen Sophia of Spain because he wanted to demonstrate a new technique he has developed for playing the instrument.
"Generally a guitar is used to accompany a singer," he explained. "But my technique is to play the guitar like a harp. This puts the melody into the music as well as the accompaniment - so I don't have to sing!" Here is the man who has ruled the 171 islands and 100,000 subjects (with another 100,000 living overseas) for the past 34 years. According to the Tongans, the first Tu'i Tonga (the title given to the royal ruler) was a product of a union between the sun God Tangaloa and a beautiful young earth maiden named 'Ilaheva somewhere around the beginning of this millenium. Today's descendant, who plans to greet the new millenium close to the international dateline aboard a giant war canoe, ascended the throne on the death of his mother, Queen Salote, in 1965. She became known throughout the world when she rode through pouring rain in an open carriage to the coronation of the Queen Elizabeth in London in 1953.
Tongan tradition does not allow imitations of those held in great respect. So while the Queen rode in a covered carriage to Westminster Abbey, Queen Salote refused to allow her carriage to be covered. Her son, like his mother, was crowned at the royal palace on the waterfront at Nuku'alofa. The palace is made of white weatherboards, has a red corrugated iron roof and was prefabricated in New Zealand in 1867 before being shipped for erection in Tonga.
Yet a call on the ruler of the weatherboard palace is surrounded by as much protocol, dignity and gravitas as an audience with the ruler of Buckingham Palace. Herald Sun photographer Craig Borrow and I first called at the office of the king's private secretary in a building outside the palace grounds. After a careful check of a proposed list of questions - "His Majesty will feel comfortable with those" - a military aide was summoned. " He will announce you to His Majesty," it was explained, before we were marched through a side gate and across a manicured lawn led by the ADC and trailed by two uniformed members of the Tonga royal guards. We were shown into the room in the royal palace where the king presides over his (appointed) privy council. It was like an English Victorian country house. There was a collection of blue and white Chinese jars on a sideboard, old framed prints of Polynesians on one wall, and a white marble bust of a Prussian emperor with a wig. As a curio, there was a hydrographic map of the Tongan sea floor with a wobbly personal inscription from President Ronald Reagan. But through the French doors things remained tropical, with a Tongan servant wearing a woven straw wrap around his waist and honeyeaters darting around the hibiscus seeking nectar.
At 10 am, a clock chimed somewhere in the palace. Through the doorway came the old king, stooped and walking with the aid of two aluminum canes. Once the king was best known as the heaviest monarch on earth. In a nation of big people he was among the biggest, singled out for mention in the Guinness Book of Records in 1976 when he topped the royalty scales at 201.8 kg. But he decided to set his country a good example. His doctor - and Tonga's Health Minister - devised a weight reduction plan through diet and exercise ( which became a national health plan). Today the king everyday, visits a gym three times a week and is about half his former size. The king sat in his carved wooden throne. We bowed as we had been instructed to bow. He motioned to take a seat to his right and slightly lower than his throne. He was wearing a traditional kind of a shirt, a black jacket was buttoned to his neck. Shrewd eyes appraised the visitors. His face was impassive.
At first, he let the visitors do all the talking. There were long pauses, short answers. As an interview, it seemed to going nowhere fast. Yes, it would be a privilege to be on earth for the new millennium. He would probably say something special aboard his new war canoe when the dawn came up. No, he hadn't thought about what he would say yet.
What were the most significant events of his lifetime?
"The end of World War II. The arrival of atomic weapons. The growth of communications so we can get the news on television via satellite."
"What is like to be a king in this modern world?
" I do not know. I was born as I was. A king."
Is it a difficult position?
"Oh yes."
In what ways?
"You are restricted in what you can do .. you have to be careful in what you say."
A pause. He decided to talk. About the things he, the king, wanted to talk about. We realised that this was not an interview. It was an audience. We were the audience. "See that statue," the king said, pointing out the window to a bronze figure of himself, "that was a gift from China, mainland China, on the occasion of the establishment of diplomatic relations. I have been invited to go to China in October."
The subject changed. "I like to go sailing and put a line out to go trawling and catch a fish. We prefer to eat fish raw here, like the Japanese do. I was interested to find out that the Australian Aborigines never eat things raw. They do not eat fish or shell raw." "The Tongan people eat fish raw with coconut cream and onions and chilli."
The subject changed again. "I like reading history and biography. I have just read a new biography of Napoleon, in one volume. I think the lesson from Napoleon is not to allow soldiers to have supreme power in your country. They have been only been trained to kill and they don't know very much about how to be constructive; they only know how to be destructive. Civilians should control soldiers, not the other way round."
This reminded the king about how Tongan soldiers had volunteered to join the New Zealand army in World War I and served at Gallipoli. About how there were no landing craft at Gallipoli and how allied powers studied the mistakes of Gallipoli and developed landing craft that were used to such good effect in the D-Day landings in World War II. " I am very interested in history," the king said. "There are some amusing things which do not get published in official histories, however." And he then told the story of how, during the Boer War, General Smuts ordered his men to cut the fly buttons off the trousers of Australian PoWs to stop them escaping. "They had to wander around holding their trousers up!"
His Majesty was roaring with laughter now. So was his audience. Then we got on to music. His prowess with the guitar and balalaika. And, proudly, how he has just recorded two guitar tracks for CD, to be released internationally by a German company at the end of the year. The military aide handed His Majesty King Taufa'ahau Tupou IV the guitar given to him by Queen Sophia of Spain.
And slowly, softly, sweetly, the old king, plucking his guitar like a harp, played for us a Tongan love song ... and the Maori Farewell.
The audience was ended.
