Registering a few firsts in the land where time begins

In the land where time begins, the sun was not co-operating. At the dawn of the third millennium it hid behind the clouds and the first sunrise of 2000, scheduled for 6.14 a.m. (4.14 p.m. December 31st Irish time) did not appear until almost an hour later over the Kingdom of Tonga in the South Pacific.

Two kalias (traditional double-holed wooden canoes like catamarans) put up sail in the Bay of the capital, Nuku'alofa, as the sun finally penetrated the clouds.

At 7.12 a.m. the sun made its first appearance, watched by Tongan soldiers, a few reporters and photographers in motorised inflatable boats in the bay. Overhead, undeterred by Y2K fears, a Royal Tongan Airlines aircraft took off across the sky.

A priest of the Free Wesleyan Methodist Church suggested to his congregation yesterday that the sun did not shine because of the sins of Tonga, giving particular mention to young men and women being drunk during the celebrations.

But the sins of Tonga were hardly to be seen on the waterfront, the centre of celebrations on Friday night and into Saturday morning. There were very few drunks on the streets and most of those with alcohol appeared to be Westerners.

This nation of 100,000 people has four churches for every village and takes its religion seriously. So seriously that on Sunday they pray, sleep, eat and pray again. It is against the law for business to open on a Sunday and any contract made on that day is void.

It was little wonder so that Tonga's broadcast celebrations started with a two-hour religious service at 10 p.m. on New Year's Eve. On the vast lawn in front of King Taufa Ahau Toupou IV's palace, about 3,000 people gathered to pray and sing in the new millennium.

Under a clear sky a balmy breeze blew as the Royal Maopa Choir of Tonga in traditional dress were joined by a Swedish choir to sing a moving rendition of Across The Bridge of Hope, a poem written by 12-year-old Sean McLaughlin and five friends, shortly before he was killed in the Omagh bombing in August 1998.

As the BBC's coverage of the celebrations began, the 81-year-old monarch gave his millennium message and said he hoped "the people of the new millennium will take lessons from the past and move forward hand in hand for peace, harmony, prosperity and security". Then the 40 choirs present sang in Tongan and English the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah.

When it was all over and VIPs, including the Chinese ambassador and the British and New Zealand high commissioners, had shaken hands with the King in his royal marquee, the fireworks display began: a spectacular show prepared by the same Australian team who organised the St Patrick's weekend fireworks in Dublin and who will have responsibility for the Sydney Olympics.

People walked around shaking hands and kissing on the cheek virtually everyone they met, whether it was the Catholic Bishop, Dr Saone Foliake, the Minister for Police, Mr Clive Edwards, Miss Tonga, or the huge numbers of choir members in the grounds.

Of course there were those whose only real interest was to be the first to do something in the third millennium. The Tongan Surfers' Association arranged to surf the first wave at midnight, while the Tongan cricket association played the first cricket game of the third millennium at 10 a.m.

And then there was the golf. The Tongan Golf Association had a tee-off at midnight. Among them was veteran Australian golf correspondent Bernie McGuire, a regular visitor to Ireland and a member of the European Club in Brittas Bay, Co Wicklow.

An Irish contingent watched the sun go down on the first day of 2000 at one of the many beaches with the staple white sand, turquoise sea, coconut trees and clear sky.

As the red ball of sun sank on the horizon, Dubliner Philip Kilmartin and his Tongan wife Lua Holi clinked their Waterford crystal millennium glasses with a special bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider.

"We have a first" said Philip. "We can say it was the first Waterford Crystal toast of the new millennium."