Week 7, Blog 3 (Freewrite)

Life at BYU: Saturday at the Wilk...

So today I was walking through the Wilk when I suddenly heard a chorus of very masculine voices shouting and umphing, accompanied with the stomps and pounds that can only mean one thing: Tongans. …and Samoans, and Fijians, and Hawaiians, and in short, Polynesians of all sorts and sizes who have gotten together for another ritualistic dance. Don’t get me wrong—I’m quite entertained with the combination of moves and sounds and facial expressions (especially) of these mighty men. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t stop the smile from erupting across my face as their boisterous bellowing echoed through the Wilkinson Center hallways. Especially when, passing the doorway to the blameworthy room, I saw the scrawny little white boys (at least compared to those Tongans—they probably were still much bigger than me…) stomping and yelling in the back and trying so very hard to be fearsome. What were they doing in there? Did they think they would fool anyone? White boys just can’t do that stuff. It’s not that the dance moves are all that complicated…but no one can deny it was made solely for the dark, fleshy, gigantic Polynesians who used this drill in preparation for war. New lesson for BYU life: always listen for the deep rumbling voices of Tongan men. You’re in for entertainment.

P.S. Unga? Probably the best last name ever.