Last week I was back home in the islands. No, not back home in Tonga, but back home in Hawai’i. You see, I grew up in Hawai’i. I attended elementary school and intermediate school there. So, it is in many ways my home. I have countless families there, old childhood friends and, even childhood enemies (that unfortunately are still fresh in memory). The islands – my home.
It had been a long 2 ½ years since I last visited. I have been occupied and consumed with working full-time and attending grad school full time that my leisure time is very limited. Needless to say, this was a much needed visit.
I was so excited when I landed in the islands that I started taking pictures at the airport. If you’re familiar with Honolulu International Airport, you know there’s an open walkway from the gate to the baggage claim area. I couldn’t resist, but like a child who just landed in Disneyland, I immediately took out my camera and started taking pictures of the sky, of the coconut trees, the airport tower, and of the Welcome sign. To tell you the truth, I really wanted to run over and hug the coconut trees. Talk about a FOB, (Fresh off the Boat) that was me. Just replace the Boat with a Plane and you get a FOP – Fresh off the Plane! My Polynesian family will know what I’m talking about here, and laugh. Ok, family, you may stop laughing now.
While there in the islands, I visited with families, ate lots of local food, and went sight seeing, as if I hadn’t seen them a million times before. I took so many pictures of everyday stuff, that my family said I was such a tourist. That didn’t bother me one bit because if you have ever left home, and went back for a visit, then you know what I’m talking about. I have so many pictures of the beach, the coconut trees, the skies, the mountains, and even The Bus, and Zippy’s.
One particular day, my nephew Lua and I drove around the island. Lua is 20 years old, born and raised in Hawai’i. I asked Lua if we could visit ‘Iolani Palace, and Lua, to my surprise, said he’s never been there. I said, “What? You have got to be kidding me. Come, let me give you a tour as I used to take field trips there when I was in grade school.” Off we go to ‘Iolani Palace. We then walked next door to the State Capital Building. Both of these places symbolizes many things to many people, but for me as a Pacific Islander, it reminds me of what once was a monarchy of the Hawai’ian people- a Polynesian people – my people. Perhaps you have only read the story of Hawai’i from the conquers’ perspectives. But this is not the full story. The story of ‘Iolani Palace is filled with deceit, forced, assault, betrayal, oppression, and defeat. Do you know of Queen Lili’uokalani? She was the beloved Princess, later Queen of the Hawai’ian people. She was the last of the monarchy that was overthrown by the U.S. Government. The next door building, the State Capital, tells the story only from the conquers’ victorious account. Hawai’i, the 50th State, it has become!
Anyway, to finish telling about my island visit – we visited my childhood neighborhoods, schools, and ate at the local joint called Rainbow, in Kapahulu. The food at Rainbow is okay, but visiting Rainbow wasn’t just about the food; rather, it was about visiting my child-hood days, and I do mean child-HOOD days! It was an awesome feeling to be back in the Hood of Kapahulu.
Returning back home to the islands was truly the best feeling for me, and it was the highlight of my Summer. Returning back to the daily roasting 100+ degree temperature in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex was just the opposite. Although I have lived here, in the DFW area most of my life, it is not home. And, I am often reminded by those inquiring minds by asking, “where are you from?” (A story for another day!)
As another semester gets under way in just a few more days, I am not at all thrilled. I wish that I can hurry up and finish this degree so I can move back to the islands. I moved away from the islands not by my own choice. It was my parent’s decision, in search for a better way of life. I have high regards for my parents. But twenty plus years later, is it a better way of life? I will say that my parent’s decision afforded me many opportunities, economically and academically. We’ll leave it there for now.
Still, I miss home. I miss the islands.
-I was moved to write this note after reading my friend Brian’s note on being “homesick.” Thanks, Brian.
-Originally written as a facebook note, August 2010.
When My Homeland Becomes a Flavor: Tonga
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
Posted by Sela E. Finau on September 3, 2026 in Community, Culture, Economics, Family, Life, Tonga
Tags: commentary, cooks, cultural misappropriation, culturalmisappropriation, exploitation, fiji, food, moana, nauru, pacific, pasifica, pasifika, Tonga, tonga-vanilla, tongavanilla, travel, vanilla