Pilot Silva McLeod during her first day working for Royal Tongan Airlines. Photo / Supplied
As a 37-year-old mother of two living in Australia, Silva McLeod fulfilled her dream of becoming an airline pilot - Tonga’s first female pilot at that.
After five years as an instructor, on a day off in December 1998, I went to answer the phone.
“Silva, this is Alistair McLeod from Royal Tongan Airlines. Are you sitting down? I’ve got some good news.”
I could hear my heart thumping.
“Congratulations. I’ve got a position here for you.”
My break had come through — I landed my first airline job, with none other than Royal Tongan Airlines, at an age considered vintage in the aviation world. I was 37.
After the initial elation wore off, a heavy blanket of sad reality lowered over my head as I contemplated what I was about to do. I’m leaving my husband Ken and my two daughters in pursuit of my career.
How? Why? What for?
When I’d left Vava’u with Ken in 1981, the pilots had both been white and hadn’t spoken Tongan.
They’d addressed the passengers in English, oblivious to the fact that the flight was full of Tongans.
None of the passengers could understand English, and therefore, they missed the most important part — the safety brief.
At the time, I’d thought: ‘‘How cool would it be if the pilot could make his or her public address in Tongan?”.
This day had finally come, but there were obstacles to conquer.
I have a husband. I am a mother of two in their final years of high school.
Oh, dear! What have I done?
Every adversity, every challenge, every heartache carries with it the seeds of greater benefit, but at a price.
But when I told Ken, Lizzie and Tema of my news, they were overjoyed and hugged me.
They’d been with me all the way through hardship, sweat and tears. They’d seen me juggle work, family life and my study, burning the midnight oil for six years.
“What’s with that look? Aren’t you happy?” Ken tilted my face to him.
“You and the girls.” I could control myself no longer and burst into tears.
“Oh Mum, we’re fine,” said Lizzie.
“We’re old enough to look after ourselves and Dad too. You’ve worked so hard for this. You have to go.”
Ken was still holding my face and I could feel his love burning into my eyes.
“We’ve worked hard together, so go and try. If it’s not what you want then come home. This could open up the world for you, for us. We’ll be fine.”
This was the toughest decision of my life to that point. If Australia had been my country of origin and I’d been given the opportunity to fulfil my dream, my path might have been different, but that wasn’t the case.
Elizabeth would be in Year 12 when I left and Tema a year younger. But Ken, my biggest fan and supporter, never failed me. Most husbands, black or white, would have been kicking and screaming, but not my Ken.
I could never have succeeded without his 100 per cent support. We were a formidable team. How lucky am I?
“I don’t want to be the reason you can’t reach your full potential,” he said.
Telling Ken’s parents I was going to abandon their son and granddaughters in pursuit of a career at my age was incomprehensible. Seeking the approval of parents is always at the forefront of every child’s mind, regardless of age.
My white parents-in-law were no exception.
I could see the disapproval in their eyes. There were no congratulations or elation. In their eyes, I could see pain and concern. Their son was going to be a single dad while I was chasing a rainbow with no end.
“Your parents don’t approve of me flying,” I complained to Ken.
“It’s none of their business. It’s our life and if I give you my permission, that’s all you need. So stop worrying about them,” he said.
“But in my culture, a daughter-in-law will do her utmost to please her parents-in-law. I trust and hope that one day I’ll make them proud as a wife, a mother and daughter-in-law who happens to be in love with aeroplanes.”
“They already are,” Ken said.
But I wasn’t so sure.
I believed they were worried about our marriage, but our love for each other was so strong that nothing, even my beloved aeroplanes, could come between us. I knew Ken felt the same.
“Will you trust me to be out of your sight, Ken?” I probed.
“More to the point, would you trust me?” “Ha ha! Not funny. You’ll be busy with the girls. You won’t have time to scratch yourself.”
Someone else was worried about our being apart and was never shy to voice her opinion — Grandma Nane.
When I told her I’d got the job there was a pause before the wise old voice said: “How about Ken and the girls?”
How about congratulations?
“Ken will stay and look after the girls,” I told her.
“We won’t uproot them; they’re in their final years of high school.”
“Let me tell you something, Liva. In today’s age, you should always keep your man close by your side. Too many marriages don’t survive a separation like that. Weigh up what’s important to you.”
I could imagine her little finger working overtime.
“Talk about build me up then shoot me down. Don’t put me on the guilt trip. I’ve worked too hard, Grandma.” She didn’t hear me, as she’d already hung up.
I wondered why it was so hard. Why can’t I be a man? Then I would be expected to do all this without having to fight my way through.
I was based in Nuku’alofa and not in Vava’u where I came from. I found rental accommodation, which I tried to settle into before starting my training. But it wasn’t easy trying to stay focused while missing my family terribly.
The first pang came on December 16. It was our 18th wedding anniversary and the first one Ken and I had spent apart.
Christmas Day arrived and it was another tough day filled with loneliness and doubting questions.
I had been in Tonga for over two months without Ken. The night he arrived, I was waiting at the bottom of the stairs on the tarmac, a privilege I have as an airline crew member.
Ken’s time in Tonga passed too quickly. Three weeks later, I stood alone at Fua’amotu airport, waving goodbye to him once more.
Ken sailed into some rough water at home, as Lizzie started to play up at school.
I felt this was to do with me being away; the consequences of my actions didn’t take long to show.
“Liva, I don’t know what to do,’ admitted Ken on the phone to me.
“The school called to say that Lizzie has a couple of overdue assignments and if they’re not completed, she won’t matriculate. I can’t talk to her without yelling or getting upset.”
He sounded so tired.
I hung up and called our airline office and organised my ticket for the next day. There was guilt, regret and sadness but I was torn as my thoughts shifted to Ken.
Does he hate me now? Will he ask me to come home? What about our girls? Elizabeth has to cope without her mum and the heavy load of Year 12.
Once back in Australia, the teacher briefed me on Elizabeth’s work requirements.
After he’d finished, I said: “Lizzie won’t be back to school until those assignments are completed.”
I went home to a stubborn daughter. I locked the door behind us and took her to the dining table and sat her down.
“All I want from you is for you to complete high school. Don’t throw it away... If you want me to come home, I will, but please don’t throw away the last 12 years of schooling.”
I was crying, for her, for me. I could smell the end of my flying career.
It took three days of whining and complaining, but on the third day, Lizzie’s mood lifted as she neared the completion of all her work. When it was done, she looked up and smiled.
“Mum, thank you. I didn’t know where to start so I allowed the work to pile up. I’m good now and I don’t want you to give up the career you’ve worked so hard for.”
The night before I went back to Tonga, I lay awake, torturing myself over what to do.
I said to Ken: “I want it all. I want my career and I want my family too. How can I choose?”
“Okay, if it’s going to help, think about it. In a couple of years’ time, the girls will have their own lives. What will you have if you abandon your career now?”
I realised then, not only did I love the excitement, fulfilment and the sense of achievement I got from flying but that I was still looking for that big pay packet that would free our financial circumstances.
I was looking forward to the day I could help pay back my debt to the love of my life.
So I reasoned with myself. I must go back.
Elizabeth completed Year 12 and matriculated from high school, then she came to Tonga.
I was so happy and looking forward to this one-on-one time with my firstborn. The conversation started up about her future and university, she was defensive. She didn’t want to go to uni.
“I’m okay if you don’t want to go to university,” I said.
“You have two options — you either go back to Australia after the holidays and find a job or you can stay with me here in Tonga if you want. But if you decide to stay with me, you’re going back to school and that’s not negotiable.”
“What kind of schooling would I be doing here?” she asked.
“A diploma in computer science.” My brother Paul was with the Ministry of Education of Tonga at the time.
I knew his influence would get her into a course.
She brightened up at that.
I knew my absence from Australia had affected her more than she’d let on but I hoped this would repair the damage in some small way.
The new millennium brought some good fortune. I was promoted to captain. The command training was gruesome, but the reward was well worth the sweat.
When it came time for my final check to line, I was full of trepidation. I missed not having Ken with his encouraging and calming demeanour to steady my nerves.
The flight test consisted of three sectors in which I had to demonstrate competency as a captain.
At the end of the third sector, as the last passenger disembarked, only then did the check captain say: ‘Congratulations, Captain McLeod, well done.’ He shook my hand.
“Thank you, sir. This is an unbelievable moment.”
“Believe it, you’ve done it,” he said.
Being the first Tongan female pilot was one thing, but now a captain was unfathomable.
My first flight as captain was to my home island of Vava’u.
I was excited and nervous at the same time when I thought of the enormity of the moment. I was responsible for the lives of the 21 souls onboard.
Remembering 20 years earlier when I’d heard the announcement being delivered in English by a white pilot, my dream was fulfilled as I picked up the microphone.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. On behalf of Royal Tongan Airlines, welcome aboard. My name is Vaisiliva McLeod and I’m delighted to be your captain on our flight 801 to Vava’u this morning.”
I had to fight back tears as those words spilled out with overwhelming emotion.
His eldest brother said they were struggling to comprehend their sudden loss.