I visited Fiji a few years ago and met Isoa, who worked at a
backpacker's lodge. He told me, "Next time you come to Fiji,
you'll stay with me in the village." So that was the
plan.
I enjoyed my stay in Navola and for a few weeks, lived as they
do. I think the Fijians are among the nicest people in the
whole. If you read on, maybe you'll understand why.
November 2
I arrived at Fiji’s airport in Nadi at six in
the morning.
Customs was ever so laid back and I was greeted in the airport lobby by
all the touts trying to get me to stay at their hotel. When I
told them I was staying with a friend, they said, “No
you’re
not.” One tout, a bit more resourceful than the
others said,
“I’ll be your friend if you stay with
me.” Well, at least she
gets credit for trying hard. I walked out past the airport
gate,
sat down at the bus stop across the street and waited for a bus to
bring me into Nadi.
I watched people go by and even sitting at the bus stop, gave me that
Fiji “feel." It struck me on the bus into
town how much
English there
was, even on local businesses. Fijian and Hindi were almost
non-existent. It might be that English is a compromise
between
the two populations. Fiji’s population is about 50%
Fijian and
45% ethnic Indian (who came as indentured servants in the
1900’s). There really seems to be a genuine split
between the two
populations. I didn’t see many people from the two
groups
mixing. It’s part of this divide that would lead to
a coup in the
following year. I walked around the downtown and then caught
a
bus to the village of Navola, where my friend Isoa lived.
Just
riding down what is known as the Coral Coast brought back many memories.
I got off at The Beachhouse, a backpacking lodge where Isoa worked, and
found him outside working in the yard. I was a bit nervous
about
seeing him, as I wasn’t sure how it would go. When
I talked to
Isoa on the phone a few months ago, he didn’t seem that
interested in
seeing me. He wasn’t unfriendly to me, but he
didn’t seem to care
either way. However, as soon as he saw me he said,
“Bula!”
It was as if we hadn’t even been apart, maybe he was just in
a hurry
when I talked to him last. “Bula” is a
Fijian greeting, a way of
saying, “Hello, glad to see you!” If you
go to Fiji and only
learn one word, this is the one to know. Say it with a smile
and
it will always suffice.
We
walked to his village of Navola
and he
brought me to his house. It was a simple one-room hut made of
corrugated metal without electricity or running water.
Nothing
fancy, but it was his home and for now, it was mine. He
introduced me to his wife, Sai, and his one year old daughter, Tarisi,
as well as some of the other people in the village. He had to
go
back to work but he knew that I would be well taken care of.
The
kids in the village made sure that I wouldn’t be
lonely. They
insisted that I come out to play and go swimming with them.
They
didn’t have much, just a ball and a pair of swim trunks, but
it was all
we needed. Navola is a pretty simple place where no one has a
lot, but no one is starving either. People seem to be pretty
happy to be there. It has about 150 residents, a village chief, a
preacher and church, a community house, and about 30 modest
homes. It sits right on the Pacific Ocean, where people find
sustenance from the waters and in the hills just inland.
It’s a
very pleasant place that is 500 meters away from the backpackers, but
feels 500 years away in time.
When Isoa returned from work, we had a simple meal of rice and
coconuts. In Navola, there are always plenty of coconuts and
I
would eat one every day. He decided that I needed to go local
so
he gave me a brightly colored sulu (a long skirt that is a traditional
piece of Fijian clothing). Yeah, I guess I could get used to
wearing one plus I look pretty good in a skirt. I spent the
evening catching up with him. We sat on the floor in the
house
and talked of what we had been up to since we last crossed paths in
1997. I mentioned that I had a flight scheduled for four days
later to leave Fiji. I was a little iffy about how long I
should
be staying. He was offended at this, saying, “Four
days!? That’s
not long enough. You must stay longer.”
They held a kava ceremony for me. Kava is a traditional
Fijian
drink made from a plant root which is dried, crushed, and mixed in
water. The best description for it is that it looks and
tastes
like you have washed your socks in it. How it became a
traditional drink that is used for pleasure I don’t know, but
then
again I don’t drink and can’t imagine people
drinking beer for pleasure
either. Well, whatever the taste, we shared a bowl of
kava.
Kava is mixed in a large wooden bowl called a yaquona and one drinks it
out of an aged coconut shell. When you are given a coconut
shell
of kava, you clap your hands three times and drink it in one
gulp. After you complete the shell, you clap your hands once
and
say “Bula!” Then you pass the shell to
the next person and they
drink their kava. It goes around the circle until the yaquona
has
been emptied. You can then drink another yaquona bowl if you
choose. Once you start a bowl, you have to keep drinking
until
it’s finished. Isoa and Sai took it easy on me and
didn’t make me
drink the whole yaquona with them, which I certainly
appreciated.
It’s certainly not the tastiest drink. Isoa told me
that when you
sit in someone’s house for kava like this, it means that
you’ve been
accepted into their family. All doubts that I had about how
much
he wanted to see me had been completely erased.
Isoa’s house has two single beds. He slept with Sai
and Tarisi in
one of the beds. I thought that was much too crowded and I
volunteered to sleep on the floor. I tried to tell them I
liked
to sleep on the floor, but they didn’t even consider
it. As long
as I was here, I would be treated like a king.
November 3-4
It was a quiet day, as are most days in Navola. We had
coconuts
for breakfast before Isoa went to work. I put on my sulu and
spent part of the day reading in the shade. In the afternoon,
the
kids grabbed me by the arms and pulled me out to play. Some
of
the women would also play and I noticed that taking care of the
children was very much something that the women did. The men
seemed to be pretty much out of the scene. The kids played a
version of dodgeball. Sometimes they ganged up on me and
managed
to get me out and other times I targeted two kids who had a slight
attitude. They would turn around and wag their butts at me,
daring me to get them. I would hold the ball up in one hand
and
with the other hand point at them. Eventually I’d
get them
out. The next round they would come out and wag their butts
again.
I was brought to the village school that was run by
missionaries.
I met Tony who helped with teaching the kids about computers and the
Internet. When I was in Fiji in 1997, the only Internet
access
was at the state telecom company in the capital. I had to go
through several locked doors to get access, but here it was a few years
later and a village of 150 people had it. Things do
change.
Today, I met Darlene, a pretty, young, single woman. I know
she
was single as she said she was going to marry me. Later on I
went
to the Beachhouse to see Isoa. Two women there called me a
“burro.” I have to say that I
wasn’t terribly impressed being
called a donkey. Turns out that they were actually calling me
“urro,” which means sexy. I really do look good in a
skirt!
I
was
introduced to a
number of people in the village. One of them was
Andreo. He
was the church minister and quite a character. When he found
out
that I was a computer programmer, he started calling me “Bill
Gates.” Most of the time, calling a technical
person “Bill Gates”
is an insult, but coming from Andreo I took it as a
complement.
That night Isoa and I sat outside and looked up at the stars.
We
started talking about the universe. He asked me many
questions
about the stars. I told him about some of the current
scientific
theories of how the universe was created and how it might
end. I
told him about the end of everything at the center of a black
hole. He thought it was among the coolest things
he’s heard in a
long time. I have a strong background in science and he knows
what he sees more by instinct, but we both like what is in the skies
above. The air is clear and the night sky is dark, so the
stars
in Navola are brilliant.
Later that night I went looking for Darlene, but couldn’t
find
her. On the way over, I heard some singing. A number of men
from
a village up in the hills had come to Navola. They gathered
with
the men from Navola and shared kava and sang songs. You know,
sort of a South Pacific version of Male Bonding. I listened
to
them sing. I don’t know how to describe what I
heard, soulful is
the only word that I can possibly come up with, but whatever it was, it
was as beautiful as music gets. The music was just so
otherworldly. Isoa said that I would be welcome to go there,
but
I didn’t want to. I told him about a scientific
concept called
the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. This deals with quantum
mechanics and how the very act of observing a system, changes the
behavior of the system. It usually applies to sub-atomic
particles, but sometimes it also applies to people. I told
him
that by going over there, it might change things. I thought
the
music was so nice that it was best to just listen to them sing while I
sat in the middle of Navola under the nighttime sky. I walked
back to the house and from some unknown place in the dark, I heard a
voice, “Bill Gates! Bill Gates!”
November 5-6
In the mornings, Sai usually cooked breakfast over a fire of burning
coconut husks. Not the sort of thing that I would have
thought
of, but it worked well. They have plenty of coconuts around,
so
it seemed to make a lot of sense to use them this way. I went
to
Korolevu with Darlene to pick up some bread. We talked over a
drink and waited for the bakery to finish with the bread.
It’s
nice to get hot bread, just out of the oven. Just outside of
Korolevu is a group of five houses that I encountered when I was here
three years ago. Back then everyone there would
enthusiastically
yell “Bula! Bula!” to me as I passed
by. People would even
come out from inside the houses to greet me. They
didn’t
disappoint me as everyone yelled, “Bula!
Bula! Bula!” to
us. Once again, people even came out from inside the houses
to
greet us. It's nice to know that some things don’t
change.
That evening, Isoa and I caught a bus to the capital of Suva, about 2
½ hours to the east. We arrived in the
city after
dark and tried to catch a taxi to his parent’s
house. Taxi after
taxi passed us by. Isoa told me that since it was a weekend
night, many taxi drivers were reluctant to pick up men. So he
ended up highlighting me to the taxi driver, essentially saying,
“Look,
I have a white guy!” Once he started doing this, it
wasn’t long
until we were able to get a taxi to his parent’s
house. His
family was very welcoming to me. Isoa asked me,
“Can you tell
them about the black holes?” Rugby was on TV that
evening and
guest or not, first things first. Fiji is pretty casual about
most things; rugby is not one of them.
I spent the morning with Isoa’s father talking about religion
and
politics, both of which he takes seriously. I find that most
Fijians view religion this way and it’s not just a Sunday
thing.
So we talked of Heaven and Earth and things in between.
Before
returning to Navola, we stopped at the large indoor market. I
was
kind of overwhelmed by it. It was chaotic, noisy, with
strange
(in many cases unpleasant) smells. However, it is something
that
I had better get used to as I’m going to be spending time in
Asia. I guess it takes some time to ease into that sort of
environment, but Isoa seemed perfectly at home (he was at home after
all).
I had been reading a large book on botany for the last week and showed
Isoa the venus fly trap (a plant that eats insects). I turned
the
page of the book and saw something called sensitive plant.
It’s a
plant that has leaves like a fern, which will close up when
touched. Isoa said, “Hey, we’ve got that
here!” He walked
to the next house and found it growing. He showed me how to
make
it close up its leaves. I had never seen anything like
it.
It grows all over in Fiji and for the whole next week, I would play
with it, making it close time and time again. I guess I
entertain
easily, but it’s neat to see a plant react to your touch.
November 7-8
It
was Sunday
morning and I
went to church wearing Isoa’s dress sulu. Andreo
was the church’s
preacher and I got to sit in front with the village elders.
He
was speaking in Fijian so I couldn’t understand, but he sure
did preach
up a storm. I was the guest of honor that day and was asked
to
speak a bit to the congregation. I told them how nice it was
to
be here and to be the honored guest. After church I really
didn’t
do much for the rest of the day or for the next day. I played
ball with the kids and went for a swim. It’s kind
of the rhythm
of the village to take things slow and as they come. It was
nice
to do that. It’s not a hard way of life to fall
into.
Every so often you experience something that perfectly captures the
feel of a place. For me, this occurred walking past the bus
shelter. The buses run 5-6 times a day according to a
schedule. However, you shouldn't take the timetable
seriously, as
any bus actually arriving on time is entirely
coincidental (or it might be the last bus running two hours
late). The shelter was made of logs and boards tied together
in
every which way. There were half a dozen men sitting in the
shelter’s shade. They invited me to sit with
them. That’s
all they did was sit. Periodically, someone would say a few
words, but for the most part, the men just let the day pass
by.
Some
of them were sleeping, some were lounging. It seems that just
about anywhere else the men would have been making more noise and
poking fun at each other, but not
them. They just…sat.
I spent the afternoon playing ball with the kids and hanging
around. Even though I hadn't been here very long, I was free
to go wherever I wanted. Actually, everyone seemed pretty
free to wander into other’s house. They
didn’t have the notion of
calling before dropping by. People would often come to the
house
and talk for a bit, sometimes even falling asleep and nobody seemed too
concerned about it.
That night I sat on the beach. Listening to the water softly
lap
against the shore, looking at the stars, and feeling a warm, gentle
breeze. Navola is a pleasantly quiet place. Some
people
have electricity, most don’t. It’s nice
to be somewhere that
isn’t always lit up by the harsh glare of electric
lights. One
thing I miss in the cities of home is the dark sky of the night, but
that isn’t a problem here. I looked up at the sky
and thought
pleasant thoughts and experienced time passing. I sat for
quite a
while and then headed back to the house. I heard a bit of
laughter and a hidden voice, “Bill
Gates! Bill Gates!”
As we were getting ready for bed, a truck pulled up to the
house.
Isoa motioned for me to come outside. The truck was
delivering a
television. He was quite excited about this. I
thought, “A
TV, how evil!” I tried to tell Isoa of the horrors
of TV. I
mentioned the movie, “The Gods Must Be
Crazy.”. It’s a movie
where a primitive tribe in Africa finds a Coke bottle. They
have
never seen one before and everybody is fascinated by it.
Eventually they start fighting over the Coke bottle and for the first
time they know strife, Paradise is lost. The whole tribe is
going
down the toilet because of a Coke bottle. I told him that TV
was
far more evil than even the Coke bottle and doom was upon
him. He
didn’t seem to listen to me. I did, however, ask
him how he was
going to be using the TV as I pointed out that he didn’t have
electricity. That didn’t seem to dampen his
enthusiasm in the
slightest. He did ask, “You aren’t going
to write about this in
your travel stories are you?” I said, “Oh
yeah!”
November 9-10
We followed our normal morning routine of breakfast cooked over a
coconut shell fire and Isoa went off to work. I spent part of
the
morning relaxing and reading. People would come over
and say, “I heard that Isoa got a TV. Is that
true?” I
would ask, “Would you like to see it?”
They would come inside and
have a look at it. They too didn’t seem to be too
concerned about
the electricity thing either.
I took a walk about 6 km. down the road. I had to keep
exercising
as I was going to be doing a lot of hiking in the coming
weeks. I
walked through several villages. As I passed by everyone
said,
“Bula!” to me. People would invite me to
stop and chat. I
couldn’t get enough exercise as people were asking me to stop
and have
tea. I find that the people here are among the nicest in
the world. Just about everywhere in Fiji, people are nice
without
expecting anything in return. One thing that I had taken to
doing
if I wanted to get some serious exercise was to run up a trail into the
hills where there were no people. The only time I stopped was
when I ran across a huge patch of sensitive plant. I touched
a
hundred of them, watching them all close up.
While
I was in the forest running, some of the women were out in the hills
gathering leaves in order to weave floor mats They were
stripping
thorns from the edges of the long, narrow leaves.
They showed me how to do it, but I never seemed to get the hang of
it. For every one leaf that I stripped, they did
ten. It
was a constant
“ouch…ooh…ouch” as I kept
running afoul of the sharp
thorns. They seemed to get a kick out of my (lack of)
performance
and at a certain point you realize it’s best if you just
watch them do
it. While the job is about making a mat, it seems to be more
important for the people to socialize. Maybe there is a place
in
Fiji where people take work really seriously, but I haven’t
found it
yet.
I walked 7 km. into Korolevu to post some mail and buy some
bread. I met an Australian guy in town. I told him
how I
was staying in Navola, “Going native.” I
said. He said, “You’ll
never fit in with them. You’re too
excitable.” He made
mention of my sulu and I asked him why he wasn’t wearing
one. He
said, “I’m not going to wear a dress. I
ain’t no girl.” I
may be too excitable, but at least I’m not a complete
idiot. I
fit in just fine. It was a long, hot walk and I stopped by
one of
those large, all-inclusive (read “expensive”)
resorts for some
water. The doorman brought me into the pool area, gave me a
seat,
the bartender brought me some water and invited me to take a
swim. The Fijians are nice to everyone. I saw they
had a
bar built into the side of the pool so that you didn’t even
have to get
out of the pool to get a drink. That’s something I
hadn’t ever
seen before. Quite different than the style of how I was
spending
time in Fiji. I think I’ll stay with the way I am,
thank you very
much.
I
wanted to bring some bread to Darlene, but she wasn’t
in. Her sister Helena was filling in for her that
day. I
laughed out loud when she to me about Fijian men. She said,
“They
are so lazy.”
Based on everything I’ve seen of them, I guess I’d
have to say that
they aren’t lazy, but to be nice about it, they like to
relax. I
don’t mean to make Navola sound like paradise. It
does have its problems. People there will gossip about each
other
(including gossiping about me) just like anywhere else among other
things. I suspect that the first time that humans came down
from
the trees and walked on land, someone said, “She is such a
showoff,
strutting on the ground instead of sitting on a branch like a
respectable Australopithecus should.” However, all
in all, it’s
quite pleasant. The men later brought me over to the
schoolyard to watch the local rugby team practice.
They
were quite
proud that the team had one of the players of the national
team.
We all watched as they carried out their drills. They did one
practice exercise where it looked like they were trying to
pull each other’s pants down and there was another where I
thought
they were gathering for a scrum (a rugby play where people gather in a
circle to get control of the ball), but no, they were just hugging each
other.
We returned to the house and Isoa, Sai, and I spent the evening
laughing and relaxing. I
always enjoyed the time that we were together. I met
Isoa’s
friend Carl. He said, “Make sure to tell him about
the black
holes, ok?” Later Helena joined us. She
talked with us for
a while and then she fell asleep on the floor and slept there for most
of the evening. Kind of nice, isn’t it?
November 11
In the evening, the men from the neighboring village came to Navola
again. They met in the community house and sang songs and
shared
kava. This time Isoa and I joined them. Before we
went,
Isoa said that it’s the custom to bring some kava and he
would have to
get some from a neighbor. It was late at night and most
people
were asleep. I told him that I would rather skip the singing
than
wake someone up. He said that it wouldn't be a
problem. So
he went around knocking on doors when people were sleeping, looking for
kava. No one was fussed about this at all. Can you
imagine
how most of your friends would react if you woke them up late at night
looking for some tea?
Isoa said that the men were impressed that I knew the kava
ritual. They would sing songs, then drink some kava, and then
sing some more songs. Isoa said to me, “Tell them
about the black
holes.” So there I was telling them about what it
is believed to
be like at the center of a black hole, the end of space and
time.
Based on their questions, I could tell that they were getting
it.
They listened in wide-eyed amazement. Then it was back to
singing
more songs. The chief told me how happy he was that I was
there. He must have liked me as he offered to let me ride his
horse, which he described as “spirited.”
I thanked him, but
declined. I wasn’t even going to attempt to ride a
“spirited”
horse bareback. Then it was time for more kava.
They have
what is called high tide and low tide, which correspond to the big and
little coconut shells that can be used for drinking. Luckily
they
always gave me a low tide. You know, it’s good to
experience
local customs, but it was enough kava. On the way back to the
hut
I heard, “Bill Gates! Bill Gates!” I
looked around, but had no
idea where it was coming from.
November 12-13
Once again, it was another lazy day. The kids wanted to play
all
day, but I told them I wanted to relax today. I
don’t think they
(or any kids their age) understood. I did go up into the hills to get
some exercise, but for the rest of the day I took it easy.
While
I was exercising, I found a Coke bottle. I brought it back
and
hid it in the TV box, so the next time Isoa got a look at his TV, he
would find it. Snicker, snicker.
This day was very hard on me. I was leaving for New Zealand
the
following day. I was genuinely looking forward to it, but a
part
of me desperately wanted to stay and Isoa was happy for me to stay
longer. I guess it really doesn’t matter what I
felt, I was
leaving the next day, but I was still confused about what I
wanted. I
saw Sai making
something in the yard. She had her back turned to me, so I
couldn’t tell what it was. So I just let the day
pass and enjoyed
it. When Isoa came back from work I found out what Sai was
working on. It was a beautiful bua (flower necklace) made of
frangipani flowers, hundreds of them. The bua was a goodbye
gift
for me. It was thick with flowers and when I put it on, it
reached down to my waist. Frangipani is a delicate white
flower
with a yellow center that grows by the thousands on a tree.
It
has what is quite possibly, the most pleasant smell in
nature.
When I wore the bua, I was surrounded by a wonderful
fragrance. I
couldn’t imagine a nicer goodbye gift.
Isoa, Sai, and Tarisi sat with me at the house for a few
hours. I
could have caught a bus to the airport the following morning, but the
timing would have been pretty tight. If there is one thing
that I
have learned about Fiji is that schedules are only guidelines and may
or may not have any correlation with reality. A few women
heard
that I was leaving and stopped by to say goodbye. Isoa
apologized
to me and said how sorry he was
about how I was eating. He said, “I know that
you’re used to
eating better than you did here. I’m sorry that we
don’t have
much.” All I could do was shake my head and tell
him how grateful
I was to be here. “I know that you don’t
have much compared to
what I have back home, but what you do have, you share. If
you
had overspent to provide for me resulting in hardship for you in the
coming weeks, now that would have offended me. I
couldn’t have
asked for more from you.” I mentioned earlier that
I was treated
like a king, I really meant that.
I
really think a lot of Isoa and Sai. They couldn’t
have treated me
better. I enjoyed spending time every evening with those
two. I relished sitting with Isoa at night and talking about
life
and all sorts of things. When I was with them, I always felt
important and well cared for. They are going to be building a
small house of their own in the coming years. Isoa told me
that
they would name one of the rooms the Mr. Moose Room and I would be
invited to stay in it whenever I wanted. How can you find
anyone
kinder than them?
Eventually someone told us that it was time and we went out to the bus
shelter. Earlier I mentioned
that I had ambivalent feelings about going to NZ. Now I had
no
ambivalence whatsoever, I wanted to stay. The bus came and I
reluctantly got on. I said goodbye to all my
friends. One
of the women grabbed my hand through the window, said goodbye to me,
and gave me her address. Sheesh, I meet more women in two
weeks
in Fiji than I meet back home
in…in…ah…well, let’s just
say a long
time. I probably should have stayed longer! I can
still
picture all my friends as the bus drove away to Nadi.
I sat quietly on the bus as the sun went down. Upon arriving,
I
found a room and went out to eat. People complimented
me on my bua and invited me to share their table. I went back
to
my room and tried to sleep, but I had too much on my mind. I
really wanted to be back in Navola. I went to the rooftop
deck to
sit where I met two other travellers. They really
liked the stories of Navola and we talked very late into the
night. I noticed that my watch was one hour slow.
It turns
out that the whole world had switched to daylight savings time a few
days ago and Navola didn’t even seem to notice or care.
By the morning, my bua had wilted, but it still smelled
beautiful. I took a bus to the airport and prepared to leave
for
New Zealand. I missed being in Navola and being with Isoa and his
family. I liked it when Andreo called me “Bill
Gates.” I
missed Helena and Darlene, I liked sitting by the ocean and looking at
the stars. I missed all of it and all of them. The
jet took
off towards Te Aotearoa, the land of the long
white cloud. As I flew away over the Pacific Ocean I thought
back
to being on the bus last night. A woman said to me,
“That’s a
beautiful bua. Someone must like you very
much.” I replied,
“Yes they do.