Tag Archives: exploitation

September 3, 2026

When My Homeland Becomes a Flavor: Tonga

Last week at my local H‑E‑B grocery store in Texas, I was caught off guard in the baking aisle. There it was: a 4‑ounce bottle of vanilla extract called Tonga for $12.98. Regal. Rich. Luxuriant. From the Kingdom of Tonga, it read.

My homeland, reduced to a shelf label. Grief wrapped in frustration.
I shared my experience on social media. Comments rolled in, many well‑meaning: “It promotes our island!” “It helps our farmers and employees!” And they’re not wrong. Some Tongans are benefiting as farmers are paid, jobs are created, and the economy grows. I acknowledge that. I want our people to thrive.

But beyond the economics, there’s a deeper issue: cultural misappropriation. Taking our name, our identity, our story and packaging it for profit without our ownership or meaningful control. The question that keeps circling: If the beans are from Tonga, why is someone else owning the brand and keeping most of the premium?

The Fiji Water Parallel
This isn’t new. Look at Fiji Water, a US‑owned company, run by billionaires, that extracts water from Fijian aquifers and sells it globally at premium prices. Meanwhile, a portion of Fiji’s population lacks access to clean drinking water. The profits flow disproportionately out of the country. Some revenue returns, yes, but the government had to impose an export tax to capture a fraction of the value.

Fiji has been reduced to a water bottle. Tonga is being reduced to a vanilla bottle: same script, different ingredient.

The Warning of Nauru
If you want to see where unfettered extraction leads, look at the country Nauru (recently renamed the Republic of Naoero). Once wealthy from phosphate mining, foreign companies strip‑mined over 80% of the island into a barren lunar wasteland of jagged coral, bare skin and broken bones. When the resource ran out, the foreigners left. Today, Nauru survives by selling passports and hosting a detention center.

Vanilla today, phosphate yesterday. Same pattern: we supply the raw material, others take the brand and the profit, and we’re left with the scraps. And when the crop falters or the market shifts, will they stay? Or will they leave us like Nauru?

I’m Not Against Export. But At What Cost?
We need trade partners. We need buyers for our farmers’ harvests. But if the price of export is handing over our nation’s name and reducing our identity to a shelf product with an expiration date, that price is too high.

Nahhh, I don’t stand for that.
Our identity is not a flavor of the month. It is not a marketing gimmick to be shelved next to the cinnamon and nutmeg, bought, used, and trashed. We are a Kingdom. We are a people who crossed the moana in double-hulled canoes long before Europeans dared to leave the shore. We do not exist to be consumed and discarded.

So I’m drafting letters. One to Cook’s Flavoring Company asking for transparency on their supply chain and profit share. Another to our Prime Minister asking: why aren’t we building our own processing plants, our own brands, our own capacity? Why aren’t we adding value at home before anything leaves our shores? Furthermore, there needs to be some form of international law to prevent a country’s name from being commodified, especially by a foreign company.

This isn’t about rejecting outside investment. It’s about awareness. It’s about asking the hard questions. It’s about making sure that when the world buys Tonga vanilla, Tonga itself, not just a few farmers, but our entire nation and identity, actually benefits in a meaningful, lasting way.

We are not Fiji, whose water wealth flows to US billionaires while locals go thirsty. We are not Nauru, hollowed out and forgotten.

But we will be if we keep letting others define our worth, extract our goods, and walk away with our name.

The land is ours. The beans are ours. The name Tonga is ours.

Let’s wake up, build our own table, and make sure the next bottle on that shelf is ours, from bean to brand, and from profit to people.

🇹🇴 ‘Ofa atu. Mālō ‘aupito.
Sela Finau