Easy movement

It is easier to move in Fiji than in the US. About an hour ago I called Kalaviti Carriers and asked if I could hire a truck and a driver in 45 minutes to move some furniture. Sure enough, at 3 pm, a truck (barely moving) and a driver were outside of my house to help me move. Well, actually--Babu (the driver) stood at the bottom of my stairs while Mike and I carried down the two tables, one desk and five stools that are going to find a new home in my friend Jennifer's garage till I return.

During the ten minute drive to Jennifer's, Babu didn't say much but he had a very nice demeanor and now all that is left of my moving is to pile some clothes, books, and house plants into Grant's car and see if I can't squeeze him right out of his flat.....

Earlier today, in town, I moved with ease down the street wearing a black, with pink and white flowers, gold leaves and silver trim, Sulu-Chamba. I received many compliments and felt quite elegant in the easy-to-wear, never-mismatched, one-piece that adorns most Fijian women. I am hoping next year to have at least four of them for teaching purposes and the fact I don't have to search for an iron, or clothes that fit when I wake up. The beauty of tailored outfits is that they always make you look good....

My essay contest has been a raving success--with all of the seven entries from around the country. To my dismay, I found out that some schools decided they would 'democratically' go through the essays, pick out their favorites and send them on to us (the essay selection board). The only reason this perturbs me is because there is a lot of favoritism and rote teaching in Fiji, and therefore an essay that the board may have thought to be original, creative, and concise--would be removed from the school's submission b/c it was deemed unfit. However, some essays were perfectly crafted with original thought, cultural uniqueness and solid observations on what it is like to grow up in a hybrid, post-colonial nation. Others were pedantic and borrowed various dictionary definitions of "culture"--these particular essays were chosen by the heads of school and mailed to us.

Things are moving with great speed and alacrity here in Fiji. The earth is shaking; my plans are progressing; the school year is ending, and my Rotary year is slowly coming full circle. I am looking forward to being back on US soil, ordering pizza, eating cheese and enjoying the many, many lovely people I have in my life!

See you soon :)

Cheers....Namaste...peace....

Where to turn

I just had the most peculiar visit from a little boy name Willi. He only looked about 11, 0r 12 years-old, short, clean shirt, dirty shorts, bare-foot, with cracked toenails and various scabs and calluses on his exposed skin.

He walked up my stairway and quietly tapped away, wondering if anybody was home. I only answered after I looked through the window and saw it was a child. (Usually it is an adult from the squatter settlement begging, or trying to sell me some half-dead seafood.) He told me he was hungary and wondered if I had any work for him to do, so he could earn a few dollars to get bread and a drink. I told him I could give him a glass of water and offer him some bread, but I had no work. (He declined the bread, but took the water.) I started asking him his story, as he gulped down the water.

I asked him where he went to school because he spoke english very well and he said an Indian man had recently taken him in and put him in the Hilton Special School (for students with disabilities), although he had no apparent disability, Fiji is a place where if you know someone, you often times can be enrolled. Anyway, his parents left him as a baby and since then he has been living with a Rotuman woman, who has now gone to Savusavu. He has no aunties, or family that he knows of and is kind of wandering the streets now looking for work and a way to support himself. He told me he was 14, born in 1994 and his favorite subject in school is English.

The best I could do for this boy was make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and give him a couple of glasses of water. I listened to his story, suggested what he might do to find work, or relatives and wished him luck. I told him to keep the faith. I didn't have any spare clothes, or shoes for him, but I did send him off with $3.20--a small amount that he could squander and I wouldn't miss, if he was feeding me lies, but a large enough amount to get him a few bus fares and some food if he was in real need. I hope that boy finds what he needs and that I won't be targeted in the future for a break-in. There's a fine line here of who to trust and what to give and I'd like to hope I did the right thing. I saw gaps in his story and made sure to emphasize I was a volunteer, who makes no money here and also I leave with my large boyfriend, who is home most of the time. It saddens me to not be able to trust a child in need, but I think I found a middle road.

On a happier note, I went to an amazing island last weekend with snakes, white sand, teal water, and a peaceful breeze. The island of Leleuvia is a 45 minute drive from Suva and an equal boat ride. It's weather is mainly nice, getting about 30% of the Suva rain and it is inexpensive. I went there with a group of friends and we stayed in grass bures, only 20 steps from the beach and made the island our own little kingdom. It is easy to walk around the island at low-tide in about 5 minutes, minding the black and silver snakes that travel from the small forested area to the water when a cloud comes. I found that on land snakes move slowly and are non-intimidating. However, when in the water--they are fast and supple. (Making snorkeling a bit scary.)

After two glorious nights of sunsets, sunrises and beachy-days, my better half and myself came back to Suva with one extra passenger from Barcelona. As I do, I made friends with this eclectic man named Albert, who has been traveling the world for two+ years, volunteering his time to teach in orphanages and special-needs schools. He is writing a travel book and has really enjoyed escaping the rat-race city life and the fancy job. Can we not all learn from Albert?

I have recently started to read my work-load for next year...Midnight's Children, Love in the Time of Cholera, Great Gatsby, The House of the Spirits etc.... I will be completely enveloped in amazing, but difficult literature for high school students...living the lifestyle that Albert has now and I have taught myself to appreciate...

What is my plan for next year, you might ask? Well, I am moving back to Fiji after a 2 month sabbatical at home to finish my Rotary speeches and share some of the cultural nuances about Fiji. I will be home from the end of November through mid January and have lots of appointments scheduled with family and friends, Rotary clubs, and other civic organizations...I will be a busy girl, stuck in the rat race for two more months before returning to the South Pacific as an English teacher, a thesis student, and a purveyor of the good life.

Do what you love. Live simple. Breathe easy.

Shock and waves

Yadra readers,

The South Pacific and Asia have been dealt a serious blow. The tsunami and series of earthquakes that hit this region last week are shattering and mind numbing. Whenever a tragedy happens near you...could have happened to you... affects those people around you...it is cause for reflection.

So far Rotary has put together a drive for clothes and supplies--which Mike and I happily added to after reading the instructions and going to Nivis Motors in Nabua to drop of our bags of clothes. The very nice men at Nivis motors, who sell Mitsubishi cars did not know what we were talking about...a Rotary donation? Bob...oh, io our boss "Rob..." We can open a bank account for you and you can donate there.....OR you can head down the road to Niranjan Motors in Raiwanqa. Ah...set, wrong business sent out on the newsletter.

USP has started a few fundraisers and has also opened some revolving bank accounts that donate to various organizations and families in Samoa. I will be attending one of the fundraisers tonight and wearing feathers in my hair (a traditional hair piece being sold to raise money for the victims) and may attend a prayer vigil.. although in the South Pacific, those are fairly intense gatherings with large numbers of people and very passionate guidance.

Meanwhile, on Tsunami day I was on my way to work, next to the sea wall, and I received a phone call about the disaster that already struck and the thought that it might come our way by 10 am. I called my boss and she said we would have a work from home day since we were in the tsunami zone...so I worked from her home. Fortunately for us in Fiji it was a beautiful, calm and sunny day. The kids were released from school and some people were released from work and there were large waves experienced on the outer group of Lau (near Tonga) and a small quake felt in the North (Labasa) and a push towards developing a warning system in Fiji.

The next day, since the weather here is finally sunny, me and my mates went to the beach! On the way home Mike and I caught a local bus--45 minutes away from Suva. A small girl got up so I could sit in her seat and I put her on my lap, while her mother took a nap in the seat next to me. The bus stopped every 20-100 yards... letting passengers off and on, filling up the standing room in the aisles. And when the bus stopped, after some trouble catching third gear, and we were told to get off the bus and hop on the one behind it--I wasn't fazed because I was thrilled they preempted the broken down bus we were on and brought another for us to switch onto.

Two hours and three busses later, Mike and I arrived in Suva--happy and tired. It is amazing how Fiji has changed my sense of urgency and time. Last week I went to a friend's house for dinner--a new friend I had never met, and we headed over around 9 pm on a Monday night. Masta had invited me, Mike, and Brittany over for Eid (Muslim celebration). We were considered chief guests in his home and were fed a table full of sweets before we sat down for a delicious dinner of curried delicacies. Sweets before dinner was different, but tasty and all of the food led up to the viewing of Mecca. In side his house, his lovely parents showed us all of the large plaques and pictures, some with gold leafing, depicting Mecca and the millions of people who journey there to worship Allah. I felt very welcomed, culturally enriched and exhausted by the time I got home at 12:30 am.

Next week I am looking forward to Diwali celebrations (Hindu festival of lights). I am getting a new sari blouse tailored and am anticipating many dinners of delicious food, as well as the delivering of Diwali baskets to needy families in the area.

The next two weekends are three day weekends and I will hopefully travel to an outer island for one of them, continuing my exploration of Fiji and begin bringing my experience to an end as an Ambassadorial Scholar.

Matakatale

10K people, a lost toenail, and a river

As an Ambassador of Good Will, I have had the chance to connect with many lives in Fiji, and when you connect with a life you are invited to share an opportunity.

In the last two weeks, I have been fortunate enough to attend, VIP style, the largest festival in Fiji--possibly even the whole Pacific, and accompany 36 11-13 year-olds on their annual camping trip to the interior of Viti Levu.

To give you an idea of the grandeur of the Hibiscus festival, it ended on August 29th and on August 28th, the committee members were already planning how to make next year's bigger and better. It was an honor to be invited into the VIP lounge all week, where I was able to meet the contestants who compete for the titles of King, Queen, Prince, Princess, and Lady Hibiscus and who give up their personal lives for a series of months to support their fellow citizens, share their community's ideals, and grow as individuals. I was also able to rub elbows with the men and women behind the festival--the ones who coordinate this event which caters to over 10,000 people a day from all over Fiji. It just so happens my connection lies with the speech and confidence coach. He thought he was lucky to have a charming and pretty woman on his arm, however I think I was lucky one, as it was an honor to be by his side and see the amazing transformations that he helped to inspire within each of the contestants over the last six months.

As many of you know when there is an influx of people I tend to run away. So during the middle of the Hibiscus week I accompanied the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades of The Learning Center on their rural camping trip to Namoli Village, in the Sigatoka highlands of Viti Levu, located in the province of Navosa.

The first day I got to the school at 8am, noticing that when kids go camping they don't bring hiking back packs, as I did, but they bring multiple large suitcases that have wheels in most instances. We arrived in Sigatoka at 12 pm. We traveled to the Keyasi police post by dirt road and were graciously fed tea and baked goods by the police wives. We then realized, due to the amount of luggage we carried, that we would need two carrier trucks--not one to get us over the mountain roads and to the village that was still over two hours away--or just 45 minutes in "Fiji time."

The kids, teachers, luggage, and myself (acting as Ms. Nina, leader of Group Awesome) climbed into the back of the covered carrier truck and started the interesting journey in the back of a truck to the river. When we reached the end of the road, a road that had only existed for 10 years, it was dark, it was 8 pm, we hadn't eaten dinner, and we had to wade across the river with all of our bags to reach the village.

If you've never greeted a wide river, in an unfamiliar place, at night, and been asked to traverse it--you haven't experienced adventure. It was invigorating to cross the cool, knee-high river and arrive in the village to be well fed and put to bed in the Chief's bure. Although, if you remember what it is like to be a tweenager and on a sleep over field trip, then you must know Ms. Nina, leader of Group Awesome, didn't sleep for more than a few hours that night. The kids were respectful, but excitable, and sure that there was a rat rummaging around in the bure at 3:30 am--for the sole purpose of torturing them.

Everyday we woke up before sunrise to the white mist of our breath. We crossed the river to do nature studies, swimming, horse back riding, fishing and bilibili races. When someone of adult stature sits on a bilibili it remains a sturdy bamboo raft, but it also neglects to float above the water because it flows in the water. However, if you are Fijian, you are naturally inclined to stand on the bilibili, carrying across the river any number of items safely and dryly. Luckily, due to village protocol I was swimming fully clothed all week--including my two bottom layers, consisting of shorts and a sulu.

The kids had an amazing time interacting with the village children, who were all on school holidays and normally have to board at a government school far away from their remote and rural village. There was no cell phone service, no refrigeration, one flush toilet--set up with a bucket of water, and no showers. We took our baths in the river, washed the pots and pans in the river and saw how vital the river was to daily life in Namoli. We ate fresh Talapia, caught with spears, bilibilies and cane knives, out of holes in the sand that were lined with banana leaves and also held games with the village children and the school children--the village children usually coming out on top.

Besides a few excitement driven behavior mishaps, a missing toenail, a roll-start carrier, fifteen tummy aches, one exploratory rat, and a sacrificed wild boar-- we had no fatalities, or desperate situations.

I was privileged to talk with the Chief's wife all week, Tai Livi and learn about access to education in the village and her thoughts on the rural and remote location of the village. I was also bestowed the high honor of staying her tent--an A-frame, circa 1970. It was very well loved and unfortunately past its prime--causing the boys to have to put a tarpaulin over it to make it water proof. It also needed to be tied down with a wide berth, and bamboo-fashioned-twine, which caused all of my darling students to trip over the pegs and regularly collapse my tent--only stopping their run enough to giggle and scream, "SORRY MS. NINA...."

Tai Livi was sad to see us go, as were the other villagers after they realized what entertainment our students provided amid the invasion of the peaceful mountain top village. The trip will forever bond me with the hills of Fiji, the villagers of Namoli, and the students and teachers at TLC. Once again I felt accepted and loved as a member of a community--a member of a family--and a contributor to the enlightenment of other's lives.

As a reward for my hard work I managed to lose my camera at Hibiscus on Saturday night--at the closing VIP cocktail party, in an area with thousands of people. I had not yet downloaded the photos from camping and spent all day Sunday wallowing in devastation at my stupidity. Lost and found seemed to be an unheard of concept around the Hibiscus grounds the next day and all hope was lost. On Thursday night, around 10 pm, my boyfriend received a text from a local TV producer saying he found a camera on Saturday night with scenic pictures and pictures of him--was he missing a camera?

My lessons learned were: Hope is never lost; there still is good in humanity; children inspire happiness and unrestricted laughter; and the citizens of Namoli Village are more than happy to share their love, peace, and home with complete strangers.

Pictures will be posted soon on facebook and on flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/35025666@N02/

-MOCE-

Critical Thoughts

I have recently had a lot of time to reflect on education in itself, my education, developing vs. developed, preconceived notions, and the ever impending dread of "happiness." It is interesting how every person has a different story, a different essence, a different background--even those who are cut from the same cloth: may it be culture, family, or gender. Everyone brings to the table their own biases, however it is only when we group together that these somehow turn into facts rather than opinions. I believe if there were never another person who shared our view of a stranger, a policy, a nation, an organization--then we would have more time to contemplate rather than react.

As humans we are quick to judge. We only know what we have seen and what we have lived and although we are afraid to admit it we are terrified of the rest of the world. I have recently relearned from fellow classmates and also peers that I am unapproachable at times. Some see this as a positive trait--a trait of confidence and courage and others see it as self-righteous--a trait of arrogance and disregard for what I do not know.

As an Ambassadorial Scholar I have tried to mix with as many people and cultures as possible. I have listened a lot more than I have spoken and I have found myself in many uncomfortable positions. When I am afraid I talk about what I know (because it is safe and familiar), or I don't talk at all. I am one person who reacts two completely opposite ways to any similar situation. Admittedly, moving to a new country is hard on anyone. Moving to Fiji was hard on me. It has taken me months to realize that where I once was uncomfortable is now a place I call home. As I have said in the past Fiji has humbled me. Fiji has excited me. Fiji has blown me away and disappointed me in the course of an hour. Fiji has scared me and saddened me. Fiji has welcomed me as a member. I adore the people I am surrounded by--the eclectic multi-cultural mix found in Suva. But I am aware that it is a transitory place with people who never really become comfortable in this setting because they are always comparing it to another place--even villagers who have 'gone urban.'

In class tonight I was struck by a notion of culture and education. A notion that we often try to perform for others because we are laden with pride. This notion was spoken by my lecturer, a prominent Fijian woman who has been researching Pacific education and policy for almost thirty years. She said she was disappointed that we often marginalize our own because we are too afraid to admit that we do lack certain characteristics and when we are held responsible for that lack we retaliate accusing the other of unfair judgement. However if we stop and think, aren't we the ones who cause ourselves the most damage? On both a national and individual level, aren't we the ones who cover up our inadequacies--clinging on to shreds of familiarity so we aren't embarrassed, or flung into the abyss of uncertainty?

I am usually the first to volunteer, the first to offer an opinion, the first to contend an understood notion. Is this not a way to question the future? I do take sensitivity into account, but I cannot let it intimidate me because if everyone were sensitive all the time there would be no change, or growth. Education is nurture, growth, and the questioning of knowledge: what we believe to be true. As a human race and a global community we need those who are different; those who question what it is to be "politically correct."

There are many words and encounters which I regret, but I have also learned great lessons from them. Life is not something to shy away from. Happiness and discomfort go hand-in-hand. Resolution cannot exist without a conflict. Taking chances is something we must do. I leave you tonight with an apology for all of those who have been offended by my critical views and I look forward to future exchanges. The world is a place in grave need of change and also of maintaining almost forgotten traditions. How we strike that balance has yet to be perfected.

All I know is that I am a lover of the world and tomorrow I push the limits of my comfort by having two wisdom wisdom teeth surgically removed at the public hospital. I am putting trust into a fifth year dental student at an under-funded public hospital in a developing nation. I am having a procedure done that makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. Four months ago I would not have considered getting a cleaning done and now I happily make my way to CWM Hospital confident that I will leave tomorrow morning in much pain, but just a phone call away from some of the best dentists and dental students I have come across. Is this not trust in global education; a step towards something different and unknown? A good feeling that Fiji will deliver me safely through surgery?

Tonight happiness is committing to something that scared me in the past and an acceptance that I will not be eating whole foods for a couple of weeks....

Vinaka

I have seen the end of the rainbow

Bula followers,

I am writing to you refreshed and sun kissed after my seven day stint in the Yasawas and my two days in Lautoka. Both of these places can be found on the Western side of Fiji--where the sun always shines and the litter is kept to a minimum.

Minako, my fellow Ambassadorial Scholar from Japan, and I boarded a loaded bus--five seats per aisle to begin our five hour journey to Lautoka. Luckily I have a keen sense because I chose a three person bench with a well endowed woman and we squeezed in with our carry on bags for a very cozy journey. Twenty minutes into our journey, at the first stop, our neighbor exited the bus and we remained a fearsome twosome, whom no one joined for the rest of the trip!

Upon arrival we noticed that Lautoka, the Sugar City, is ripe with green grass, clean streets, and a familiar lazy bustle. A sugar train runs along the outskirts, collecting bits from every plantation it passes, and over flowing trucks bring ten foot cane sticks to the rum distillery and the sugar refinery.

For my first time ever I got to ride in what must be a 1975, column shifted, two benches in the truck bed pick-up. Willy, our Rotary hostess, is here from Tasmania working on the Rotary village of Koriopita. She drives the project's truck to access the village which is situated off the beaten track in the midst of the sugar cane fields. After giving a presentation to the Lautoka club--which had few more than 10 members present, Minako and I had a lovely talk with Willy and looked forward to visiting Koriopita the next day.

Koriopita, unlike the other villages I went to in my last blog, is funded by NZ and AUS aid, as well as Rotary. It is a manicured village with trash removal, a kindergarten, running water, electricity, and sustainable gardening plots. The families pay $1.00 a day to live there and all have set jobs to keep the village going. Indo-Fijians and Fijians live in harmony and don't have to live in a squatter settlement to be in a close vicinity to town. I found it to be an amazing project, especially since it was headed by such a small club, but I also found it to be too manicured and regulated. I can see that to keep order in a sponsored village you must have rules and safety measures but after living in Nakorakula for a week, it seemed that not being able to plant a mango tree in my front yard, or a coconut tree near a house, for fear of it denting the tin roof, seemed a little too much. Willy agreed that if they use the plant to grow food and maintain a sustainable diet then there should be no restrictions on it.

The villagers greeted us with the same warm hospitality and we got to visit a new mom and her three-day-old baby. After learning her age of 23, I said, "oh wow and now you have a beautiful baby, isn't it amazing." She said, "Yes it is. But this is my third, so I have seen it all before." I was comforted by her good attitude being younger than myself with three children and wished her well.

After the village we were invited to run with the Hash House Harriers--an international running group. We toured suburban Lautoka, running/walking about 8 kms, while the sun was setting over the Pacific. Apparently the most important aspect of Hash is the after-run hazing, beers, and in our case: a delicious curry. It was great to be welcomed instantly into this social running group where everyone was interested in getting to know us. There is also a group in Suva, which I may join. Currently I am running in the mornings in hopes of returning home mentally and physically improved!

The next morning we boarded a small boat to Waya Island to stay in dorm beds at Octopus Resort for the week. It was gorgeous and remote with a 1 km white sand beach and a long reef with snorkeling. We lounged with our 50 favorite friendly world travelers and families. The resort has to be one of the best in Fiji as it offers luxury accommodation and a few dorm beds. We were treated the same as the other guests, paying much more than us, and each night returned to the quiet 14 bed-dorm with our own mosquito netting, a lamp and a fan on our bedside table. We wasted away with the good food and long days of reading. We weaved Fijian baskets out of palm fronds (which I now use to go to the market here in Suva) and made jewelry out of beach shells. We toured the kindergarten in the village that owns the land of the resort and in exchange for the land they are offered jobs, and the resort pumps over $72,000 per year into the schooling and well-being of the villagers.

I knew as I walked over the hill to the village that it was a very rich village because there were over 100 pigs being farmed--pigs are a sign of great wealth. Before the resort was built, the villagers ate smoked fish 7 days a week and rarely took the 90 minute boat ride to the main land. Now the kids attend a boarding school for primary and secondary school and the young ones have a kindergarten and the food varies. The village was beautiful and so were its people. The Methodist church was the largest building and although the village is comparably wealthy to others, I still saw many similarities with Narkorokula. The only difference being that these villagers put on shows for the tourists a few times a week--even if it was just the kids singing in the Kindergarten. They are comfortable around white people--so your visit isn't as special as it is in a place where Palangis are seldom to be found.

After a long week of sunsets, salt-water, reef exploration, happy hour, and hermit crab racing, Minako and I found ourselves in the middle of the South Pacific on a small boat in 10-12 ft swells. It was a beautiful day, but our small ferry boat with seven other passengers had trouble powering through the swells. Our captain Seta was amazing and I felt safe, although my looming anxiety grew whenever I heard the engines cut so we could roll over a wave, or rather have the wave roll over us. We made it back and with the work crew from the island returned to Lautoka--the non-touristy town. We stopped at people's houses to drop them off and at the industrial park to drop off empty dive tanks and the market for veggies before we got to our bus station. Luckily we had arrived 1/2 early because our bus set for Suva (the last one of the day) was already on its way--honking for a passage to drive out of the bus station. I flagged it down, confirmed the Suva destination (as is necessary in Fiji) and while moving the attendant threw my luggage in the hold and we hopped on the bus. This time only paying $14, instead of $17, we hurtled full speed, passing cars and careening around blind corners through the night to Suva.

To my horror I noticed a train of cockroaches under my seat and on the floor. I spent the entire five hours trying to keep the window open for air--since on the bus it was stale, avoiding the cockroach gang and acting as copilot for the driver who had little regard for any one's life. To my dismay every local who boarded the bus would shut my window and a small bartering would ensue for each of us to remain at a comfortable temperature.

Although I thought being back in Suva would be a drag without the sunshine, the clean sidewalks, the safety of unlocked doors, the quiet nights, and the rolling surf, I found that I had actually returned to home. I woke up the next morning and went straight to the market--the busiest, dirtiest place I could find. I was comforted by the ordered chaos that once scared me. I wandered aimlessly buying fresh veggies, knowing that after seeing the other end of the rainbow--where the gold lies and the tourist flies, I was happy with my end. I was happy with my quaint life, my market, my familiar sense of the "real Fiji," and my friends. The same friends who were throwing a Rotary changeover party and requested my presence dressed in an Indian sari.......

TO BE CONTINUED

A life lesson

It is heartening when you are invited into the homes and families of strangers you have never met, strangers who you don't speak their language, and strangers that accept you--unconditionally as you are. 

Last week I went to the Village of Narkorakula in the Nadroga province of Fiji. We stayed there for five days--the women amongst the families in the houses and the men in the hall. Everyone slept comfortably on a floor--covered with a woven mat. There were five of us the first night in a small living room and on subsequent nights that number decreased to three, as some were invited to spread out in a neighboring village home. We stayed up talking to our hosts and sharing tea and food: lots and lots of food.

For the most part the people of the village live in family homes--small houses, usually 3 rooms--possibly split into more sections by curtains and there's an outhouse and outdoor wash bin and a kitchen shack in the back of the house. The houses have very little in them--random trinkets and a few family photographs. What the houses do have is a place in a community. It is true what they say--you need a whole village to work together, complete with the chickens and roosters running around. And, not to worry, but these roosters are like all others and they crow mercilessly at 4 am and 12 am and 10 am and 1 pm, anytime really!

While we were there we ate an amazing bounty of food for every meal. The women would wake up and prepare us breakfast, each section of the village preparing the food for a different day. Sometimes they even baked the night before. Then as soon as breakfast was finished, they would clean up and talk to each other in a lounge-like way, spread out on mats on the floor, and then eat their own breakfast and go into making lunch. We had a full lunch everyday because in Fiji a sandwich is not considered lunch. We had fish and crabs and mussels and clams and octopus and sea cucumber and dalo and cassava and carrots and chicken and curry and roti and eggplant and seaweed and roro and cabbage and pineapple and papaya and bananas. We had curry for breakfast and octopus for lunch. Everything was blessed with the coconut milk which makes the food delicious and very rich. For the first few days I was feeling very full, but equally adventurous and then by Wednesday I was just feeling very full. However the catch with going to a village and seeing the spread of food--which the women stand by and shoo the flies away by gently swinging tea towels back and forth--is that you are a guest and you are expected to eat. Before every meal grace is said in Fijian and the food and the day and the people are blessed. And then if you do not partake in at least two, if not three, heaping plates of food, the women will not accept your plate for washing. It gives them pleasure to share what they have with you. 

The whole reason Mike and I were in the village was to accompany fourth year dental students on their rural training course. With Dr. Bernadette, from my Rotary club, we went along with 12 students to do OEs (oral examinations) and continuing treatment on all the villages in the area. We helped people from Tau, Waica, Lomawai, Bavu, and a few other villages and settlements in the area. Mike and I functioned as receptionists registering people and recruiting those who stood by watching, rather than signing up themselves. The students and their supervisors were amazing to watch as they worked with the supplies we brought in--helping people in a sterile and professional manner in the middle of a rural tropical oasis.

We were greeted with extensive Kava ceremonies which I took place in, even though as a woman I should have little interest in them. As a white woman I think the men of the village enjoyed my company as I preferred to have a "high tide" bowl each time it was passed to me. I like Kava because I like the taste of root crops--like beets and turnips and Kava essentially tastes like dirt water, or as I like to say, earth essence. It seemed to me that the village women had little interest in the drinking of Kava, but the men could be found drinking the mild narcotic at anytime during the day. I find it gives me little effects except for drowsiness, but I did maintain a low blood pressure the whole week--possibly an example of positive side effects.

I drank Kava with the Chief of Narkorakula and with the Regional Chief from Lomowai--although I am sure the latter was not impressed in my joining his circle of male comradery, I was invited to do so by the men of my village, so I accepted and tried not to feel uncomfortable as the Regional Chief glanced sideways, not speaking, but giving off an air of confusion and what I read as distaste. The "sevusevu," or the official Kava ceremony was amazing to witness. There are long prayers and what seem to be oral history poems exchanged between the visitors and the village--it is a presentation of sorts. There is muffled clapping, one before you drink, and three after you drink. There is a shared bowl and a trough of what appears to be dirty water sitting in the middle of the room. There is talanoa--or casual conversation--around the Kava bowl and once you sit down, you are invited to continue your cross-legged journey in the hall and to share life and happiness with the men of the village.

While chatting I picked up a few additional Fijian words during my stay--some of the dialect of that Village. "Cola vina" (though-la veena) which means good health/hello, "Oi lei" (a filler like wee doggie), "Isa" (oh my gosh! My goodness!) and "mai" (come! for children). I made friends with a 3-year old named Suli--who's house I stayed in and who was very interested in what this "papalangi" was doing all week. I made friends with his mother--Ili and his aunt and his grandmother. I made friends with other women as I helped them to grind coconuts for my favorite dish--miti (a coconut gravy with onions and lemon and tomatoes, all finely chopped) I marveled at the innovations that the team of students made to deliver good dental care to these villagers and at the smiles they showed after having observed us in their village. I enjoyed an afternoon at the local primary school where they have lessons on the wall regarding rubbish disposal and there's a black board outside with chores to keep the school going. I enjoyed being a part of a family and seeing how crafty they are at re-using resources. 

In the past I have been known to say, "that's enough food to feed a village," and once you see the spread of food they put on, you see that that statement is true. When we left we left behind gifts of laundry soap and materials for the traditional Fijian style of dress. (Yes I had a Chamba made--head to toe 'bula' material, not the plainest fabric, but flattering if it is cut right. Unfortunately my Chamba made me look similar to a green whale with white leaves and breadfruit all over my body! But no one seemed to notice, they all thought I looked great.) 

The lesson I took away from the village, besides an appreciation for my bed, hot water, and alone time--was that you don't need to have things to be happy. These wonderful and generous people barely had any possessions. They grew most of their own food and fished out of the river and the ocean and some worked as sugar cane farmers and plantation farmers and some had jobs as security guards, or construction workers--but most of them coexisted to keep the village in working order. Wealth is measured in family and friends; in health and life--not in money, or material goods. The village was a good lesson on what it means to share all that you have with a guest--to observe a week of smiles and laughter and casual chats anywhere a mat was laid was the most important thing I will take away from my time here in Fiji.