uncertain

/Λnˈsзtən/ adj. 1 not known with certainty; not finally established; in doubt; dubious. 2 not sure; doubtful. 3 likely to change; not to be depended upon; not reliable. 4 not constant; varying. 5 not clearly identified, located, or determined; vague; indefinite. 6 not settled or fixed; indeterminate. 7 that may not happen.

I’ve been back in Sydney about a week-and-a-half.

It’s been good to be home. I’ve been catching up with the relos, and some friends, and have really enjoyed spending time with my family and Heather and Gary. We’ve had some good chats about all sorts of stuff … life, family, travel, Fiji, Australia … the list goes on. I’ve spent a fair bit of time doing some mundane stuff, like Christmas shopping, tidying up, getting my driver’s licence replaced (the old one was stolen during the robbery), “un-suspending” my health insurance, and all that kind of stuff. I seem to have fallen back into the routine of living the Australian life pretty easily. Is that a good thing? I’m not so sure …

Mum, Dad, Heather, Gary, and I had an awesome weekend away in Dubbo, which I really enjoyed. It was a bit of a trip down memory lane for me, taking me back to the days when Dad would take us out west on his country sales runs. We went through the Blue Mountains, Lithgow, Bathurst, Wellington, Dubbo, and Mudgee. It was pretty hot out there, and there are noticeable differences in the landscape. I always remember the Megalong Valley as being a picturesque, green place, but now it’s just parched, brown, and tired-looking. The scenery continued like that most of the way. The contrast between the “outback” I remember from childhood and the drought-ridden countryside now is amazing.

Despite being home, I’ve been a bit restless … and I haven’t been able to put my finger on exactly why. I was certainly sorry about the way we had to leave Fiji in such a rush. But people have been asking me, “So, what are you going to do now?”

The answer is, “I don’t know.” I’m not really sure what I want to do. The volunteer experience has opened my eyes to a whole lot of different people, experiences, opportunities, and adventures, and right now I’m just not sure what path I want to follow. I do feel that some of the things I had as priorities before, aren’t so important to me now. (In my first week back, my Nan started asking me about when I was going to start getting into the real estate market. I certainly wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be talking to her about it then, but even now, I think my priorities may be a little different to hers … not to mention that with the Sydney real-estate market the way it is right now, there’s very little chance I’d be able to afford “something of my own” any time soon. I think that perhaps “owning my own home” just isn’t as important to me as it was before). I really enjoyed the “fresh start” Fiji gave me … I was able to “begin again” in a way … meet new people and do things I’d never done before … all without prior knowledge, history, baggage, and the rest. I probably didn’t appreciate it while I was there, but now — as Heather pointed out to me — I realise that there are things that are different about me, or ways in which I’ve changed, but to everyone back home, things are just the same. This may take some time to reconcile.

I have been saying to people, “I’ll just wait and see.” I really would like to just hold out for a bit and see what God’s got in store for me, but I also will eventually need to start thinking about whether I want to take on any new activities or commitments in 2007.

It’s all very confusing, and there aren’t any clear answers just yet. But let me change the subject and end this post with a few lists:

Things I don’t miss from Fiji:

• The poor roads


• The stray dogs running everywhere


• UHT milk. You just can’t beat full cream, 100% dairy, homogenised, pasteurised milk. Especially on cereal in the mornings!


• Sales staff in shops. If you say to someone in Australia, “I don’t need any help, thanks; I’m just browsing,” then that’s the end of it. Not in Fiji!


• Traffic pollution, and littering. At least in Australia we’re a little more environmentally aware. (I’m surprised that solar power hasn’t caught on more, though … But that’s a whole other blog entry!)

Things I miss from Fiji:

• The friends I made, and the people I worked with


• Being involved with the Deaf community


• Having an independence I’d never had before, and having to cook, clean, etc. etc. for myself (and others! I miss being the “chef guy” of Team Veiuto!)


• Cheap haircuts. I don’t care what anyone else says, nobody flamboyantly waving some scissors around my head for ten minutes deserves to be paid $18–$20. It’s practically daylight robbery.


• Altruism. There’s not too much of it here.

Anyway. That’ll do for now. I hope to put another entry in here around Christmas, so make sure you check back.

Cheers,
Andy

evacuate

/i'vækjueιt/, v. 1 to leave empty; withdraw from. SYN: quit, vacate. 2 to withdraw from a place in danger or that has undergone some disaster.

This blog post comes to you from my home city of Sydney. Yes, that’s right. I’m back in Australia.

I was enjoying the clean-up process at school on Thursday … All the students had gone home for the holidays, and the teachers were scheduled to have a Christmas party the following day. Suddenly, at about midday, my mobile rang. It was our in-country manager. “Andrew,” he said, “you have to let your housemates know you are all being evacuated to Nadi this afternoon. You are allowed to take one piece of hand luggage and a 20kg suitcase. We’ll meet you at 2pm.” So I headed home. With two hours to go, the packing was a mad rush of me trying to fit all my belongings into the suitcase (which ended up weighing about 25kg). Of course, it was going to be impossible, so then I had to try and decide what to leave behind. We had no idea how long we would be away, or anything.

We were bussed around to Nadi that afternoon, and that evening had a visit from the regional manager. She told us we would all be sent back to Australia the next day.

They put us up at a backpacker hotel on Thursday evening, and paid for our dinner and breakfast on Friday. Friday morning was spent wandering the streets of Nadi, trying to madly cram two weeks’ worth of sightseeing and souvenir shopping into a few hours. Then, on Friday afternoon, following some very hasty goodbyes to friends and flatmates of the last 5½ months, we were on planes headed back to various cities in Australia.

As you’re reading this, please spare a thought and a prayer for the other volunteers on our programme. Some of them had only been in Fiji a few months, and were just starting to get the hang of their assignments and living in Suva. Others still had about six months to go. I have been fortunate, in that I was almost ready to start packing up anyway. I think, in my head, I was already back in Australia (if that makes sense). But for other people, the news was stressful and upsetting. There are some Aussies who now have no jobs and no homes. We have also been told there’s no way they can advise them when they’ll be returning to Fiji … if at all. I guess there’ll be a fair few people with their eyes glued to the TV and internet, watching closely to see what happens over the next little while in Suva…

Since then, I’ve had a bit of a chance to catch up with family and friends (although I still have much more of this to do), do a bit of shopping and mundane household-y organising type stuff, and unpack my suitcase. I have a long list of things that I also need to try and organise in Suva (not the least of which is getting the rest of my stuff — sheets, some clothes, books, painting things, papers — shipped back to Australia). I also want to check up on the people back in Suva, to make sure they’re doing OK.

Thanks for checking the blog regularly. It’s not over yet! Stay tuned to the news, and see what’s happening in the place I’ve called “home” for the last 5½ months!

Cheers,
Andy

village

/'vιlιdZ/ n. 1 a small community or group of houses in a rural area, larger than a hamlet and usually smaller than a town, and sometimes incorporated as a municipality. 2 the inhabitants of such a community collectively.

It’s been a busy few weeks, and I apologise for not writing something here last week.

I guess the highlight since my last post was my visit to Silana. Silana is a small village on the north-east coast of Viti Levu, and as part of my Fijian language class, five of us (plus Savaira, the teacher) went and stayed there two nights. All in all, the experience was fantastic. Rural Fijian life is very different to that of Suva. There is much more of a “traditional” feel to Silana, compared to the “modern” Suva (although I did write about Suva’s time lag in my last blog entry).

We drank lots of yaqona /ja'ŋgona/ (or kava). In some ways we had to. We had to present a big bunch of yaqona roots to the village elders to ask them to let us stay. Then they took the roots away, pounded them up, brought the powder back, mixed it with water, and presented the drink to us as a ceremonial welcome. It was all very solemn, in a dark hall with only a single hurricane lamp as a light, and interspersed with intonations from the men of the village. But once the “official business” was out of the way, it became very social, with chatting and laughing all ’round. We drank yaqona the following morning, to ask permission to go out to the reef and see the dolphins (more about that later). We drank yaqona socially the following night, and then drank more the next morning, because we had to ask politely to leave the village. Then there was more social drinking. I have had more yaqona in the past three days than I’ve ever had in my entire life!

Yaqona is purportedly narcotic. They tell me that if you drink too much, your skin goes all scaly and lizard-like, your eyes become bloodshot, and you have a general attitude of lethargy all the time. Some of the people of Silana stayed up ’til 2am drinking, and then felt terrible the next morning … something akin to a hangover, I guess. To me, it has a slightly bitter taste, but isn’t overly strong. There is a sense of “muddy water”, which I have heard people say about yaqona before. The wooden smell of the bilo, which is the coconut shell in which yaqona is served, is the most dominating thing, I reckon. You are supposed to drink the whole bilo-full in one go (which can be tough if they fill it right to the top — a “high tide”). My lips and tongue tingle ever so slightly after I’ve swallowed it, but really, apart from that, it doesn’t do anything. It’s nothing to rave about at all.

On Saturday morning, we were taken out to the reef on a small motorboat. Once we reached a certain spot, they all started banging the side of the boat, and one man blew a round, breathy tone through a conch shell. The next thing you know, we were surrounded by dolphins! (babale /mba'mbale/ in Fijian). It was awesome. That is the closest I ever remember being to a dolphin in my entire life. Savaira gave me some insight into the whole experience, and it also enlightened me a little in terms of the whole Christianity-versus-culture questions I asked in my “culture” blog entry. Apparently, as part of our yaqona presentation to the man who is the head of the tribe that owns the reef, he asked his ancestors (who are somehow “in” the dolphins, or maybe “are” the dolphins) to be kind to us and give us a good show, and make sure there were plenty of animals to entertain us on that particular day. He would attribute our positive experience with the dolphins (that there were a lot of them, and they came very close to the boat) to the fact that we presented ourselves well and did the right thing by the villagers, and the ancestors. If we hadn’t asked permission to go out to the reef, perhaps the dolphins wouldn’t have come so close to the boat. This same man was in the Methodist church service the next morning. Savaira said that’s how it is for many Fijians … “a foot in both camps,” she said. They will learn and preach about how we’re supposed to be devoted to only one God, and then constantly refer back to their ancestors and the spirits of the land, animals, plants, and water. Because this latter part of their culture is so ingrained, they don’t even seem to be aware of the contradiction. And I’m not sure that any amount of discussion or theological training would be able to change that … It’s very interesting to me.

During the weekend we got to learn about medicinal herbs, and the kinds of plants people grow in their gardens, and we all made our own woven hat! Mine’s a bit sad and sorry-looking. Apparently I didn’t hold the leaves tight enough as I was weaving it together. We slept on the floor, ate a lovo on Sunday afternoon (food cooked for hours on hot stones in the ground), practiced our Fijian, and generally had a great time. I have a much greater appreciation now for those Aussie volunteers who may have had to go to villages like this and live there for twelve months! The whole experience really does make me realise how little Fijian I actually know. “My name is Andrew,” “what is your name?” “I slept well, thank you,” and “this food is very good” can only get you so far …

I also was amazed at how independent the village is. By that, I mean they have very little need for outside interference. They grow their own veges, catch all their own fish, build their own houses, cook their own meals, worship in their own community, look after each others’ children, invite every person who walks past in for dinner (or lunch, or breakfast), care for their own pigs and chickens, socialise together, make their own entertainment, and just generally look out for each other. Occasionally they may have to go to Suva or Korovou for some supplies, and every now and then, a bread truck makes a delivery, but otherwise that’s it. Who cares about the elections in the US? What difference does it make to them whether there’s a war in the Middle East? Why do they need to know about the drought in Australia? Maybe it’s a case of “the grass is always greener …” but that kind of isolation appeals to me in some ways. There is talk of a hotel/resort going up near Silana soon. In my opinion, that’s one of the worst things that could ever happen. Why do stupid Westerners have to go and spoil a perfect, pristine beachside village with their big bucks, day trips, bikinis and multicoloured cocktails? Aren’t there enough resorts around?? I came across a word in the newspaper yesterday. One I’d never seen before: “neocolonialism”. It is a perfect expression for what happens in this country on so many different levels, and why. There are a lot of things in Fiji that could be improved, but the white people coming in with their “we can do it better than you” attitude isn’t going to help at all.

I’m going to get off my soap box now.

Here’s a picture of the six of us on the way home from Silana! This is Savaira, me, Kathryn, Janet, Shane, and Natalie. Do you like us all dressed up in our Sunday best?

Things are winding down for me. School will finish soon. Ruthie has gone home to New Zealand to spend the Christmas break with her friends and family. I’m starting to pack up all my things at the school, and show the staff some final things before I go. Soon I’ll have to start going around and collecting all my belongings, which over the past months have scattered themselves all over the house!

Anyway. I hope everyone is happy and healthy. See you here next week!

Cheers,

Andy

reggae

/'rεgeι/ n. 1 a form of music originating in Jamaica blending blues, calypso, and rock-’n’-roll, featuring a heavy bass line, percussive rhythm guitar on the (strongly accentuated) offbeat, and lyrics of social protest, often with close vocal harmonies.

Not long after I arrived here, I made the mistake of going to McDonald’s. I guess it was my own fault, and I should have known better. But let me explain. It was a Sunday morning, and nothing in Suva was open. Janet and I had gone into town to try and buy some mundane household items, and naïvely believed we would be able to find what we were looking for. But of course, all the shops were closed. After an entire morning of walking the streets of Suva in vain, I realised how hungry I was. But — as I mentioned — nothing was open. Nothing, that is, except McDonald’s* … and so, I walked in and ordered a burger and a drink. Janet was sensible, and waited ’til we got home, but I was desperate. I have said to some of my friends that it was like eating a burger you would have bought from McDonald’s twenty years ago. It was small, and dripping with oil. The only thing needed to make the nostalgia complete was the polystyrene container. About half an hour later, I was the sickest I had been since we arrived. Even with the other mild stomach upsets I’ve had here, I still don’t think I’ve had anything to top how I felt after chowing down that hamburger.

Likewise, musically, being in Fiji is like stepping inside a time machine and being transported to another era. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve said to myself, “Gee, it’s been a while since I’ve heard this one”. Chart-topping hits like “Achy Breaky Heart” and Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” are two of the most memorable ones I’ve heard. Mind you, there are many, many others I could list. One of the first tapes I ever bought for myself when I was younger was a mix of cheesy love songs from the ’80s (and if you know me well, you’ll know I hate most ’80s music). Who remembers Milli Vanilli? Yep, they were featured too. And yet, these are the songs I keep hearing in cafés and on the radio stations. Taxi drivers and bus drivers play them again and again.

I have never heard so much reggae in all my life. It’s everywhere. I heard a Céline Dion song on the bus yesterday morning, being sung with a typical reggae beat added underneath. There was a UB40 concert here in Fiji not that long ago, and a lot of Fijians are still under their spell. Lucky Dube and Bob Marley also feature prominently.

Because we all use public transport fairly regularly, we have come to know the most popular tunes, and are just about ready to put together our own compilation album, called “Nasese 4”. The Nasese 4 is the bus that goes by our house on the way to town (through the suburb Nasese), and which we have all used at some point. It is sure to be a quizzical mix of music, not necessarily used for our listening pleasure, but rather to transport us back to our time in Fiji once our assignments are up. Again, if you know anything about my musical tastes, you’d be quite surprised at some of the music I’ll end up owning:

• “Oh, Girl” by Paul Wall


• “Good Situation” by UB40


• “The One” by Lucky Dube


• “Stars Are Blind” by Paris Hilton


• “Na Vale Ni Navutu” by Georgina Ledua


• “If You Wanna Find Love” by Kenny Rogers


• “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira


• “Dragostea Din Tei (Ma Ya Hi)” by Dan Bălan and Lucas Prata

I know, I know … it’s truly cringe-worthy.

While we’re talking about music, I would just like to restate my appreciation for most “country and western” music. Tragically, all of my Rascal Flatts CDs were stolen during the robbery. (Along with some other things of purely sentimental value … if anyone out there sees a CD labelled “Andrew’s Fiji Photos Disc 2” floating around, could you please let me know? I’d really love to have it back …) Ruthie asked me the other day for the three reasons I like country music so much. The answer is easy. One: Awesome harmonies; Two: Simplicity; and Three: Truth. Sadly, she does not agree. Her three reasons for not liking country music are: Annoying, Nasal, Whining. I tell ya, these comments are like a dagger through my heart. It’s just lucky our friendship can transcend such trivial differences in opinion … right, Ruthie?

I’ll be home soon. This is a time of mixed emotions for me, and I hope to write more about this next time. For now, though, I hope everyone is happy and healthy.

Cheers,
Andy

* Incidentally, with the high proportion of Fijian people being Christian (at least nominally) and attending church regularly every Sunday, I thought it was very interesting that McDonald’s at Sports City would choose to bring Ronald McDonald himself, live and in person, to the restaurant on a Sunday morning one week rather than a Saturday (when he would have surely had heaps more kids to meet and greet). What are they trying to do? Is it a piece of clever, insidious marketing? Or am I being overly analytical?

coup d’état

/ku deι'ta/ n. 1 a sudden and decisive action in politics, especially one resulting in the overthrow of a government. A coup d’état differs from a revolution in being carried out by a small group of people who replace only the leading figures.

There has not been a coup in Fiji. I am safe. Everyone here seems to be going about their normal business, and — while there has been a lot of talk and rumour — nothing very unusual has really happened. I’m not a very political person at all … I may have mentioned that before. Still, I thought I’d write a little about what’s been happening here, and give you my perspective or opinion on it. As you read this, bear in mind there’s been a lot of speculation, guesswork, exaggeration, and so who knows what else going on.

Our level of travel advice for Suva progressed from one out of five (“be alert to your own security”) to level four out of five (“reconsider your need to travel”) within a week. As I write this — 1:30pm on Saturday 4th November 2006 — that is the current level of advice we have received. The security advice is not at the “highest possible” level. That would be level five out of five, “do not travel”. Check out the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs website for the latest official advice, or if you don’t believe me!

Some people back home have expressed concern for me, and suggested that maybe I should come back to Sydney. For the moment though, we haven’t been told we need to evacuate, and so I’ll just keep going about my business until I get any other official news to the contrary. At various times during the week, we heard that some schools were closed, but there wasn’t really any proof of that. In fact, what with the two Australian warships sitting in international waters just off Fiji, ready and waiting to evacuate us if need be, the staff at school are using my very presence there as a guide to how serious things are! If I suddenly don’t turn up to work, then they’ll know something’s happened, and maybe then they should close the school! My flat mate, Wes, said the fact that the Australian government had even sent the warships didn’t reflect well on their opinion of the Fijian leaders’ ability to handle the situation …

People said if anything was going to happen, then it would have happened last Thursday or Friday. Call me selfish if you like, but my immediate reaction was, “They can’t have a coup on Thursday! I’ve already bought my ticket to the movies!” (I saw Jaan E Mann, a Bollywood film, with a couple of friends). There were a few road blocks scattered around the place yesterday to coincide with the announcement of the annual budget, but I’ve been told that they’re usually set up every year at budget time. Now, people are saying that if there’s going to be a coup, it will be when Commander Frank Bainimarama arrives back in Fiji from the Middle East. This conflicts with some things I’ve read that say he is already here.

I’ve seen and heard a lot of news from Australia about what’s happening in Fiji, but in general the feeling is that the Australian media has really blown the whole thing out of proportion. The latest news we’ve had from our advisors here is that the Australian media is playing things up, the Fijian media is playing things down, and so the truth probably lies somewhere in between. “Just stay alert,” they tell us. I had a forwarded e-mail from our travel insurance people this morning which was three days late (it was warning us about the load of ammunition which was forcefully taken from the loading docks at Suva wharf by the military). However they did give us some reasonable advice about what to do if we do find ourselves in the middle of a coup: Cease all domestic travel and stay indoors!

In other, non-political news, my friend Copland and his wife Theresa have just found out they are going to have a baby. Copland is blogging his experiences, too, so have a look at The Copland’s Baby.

I have booked my flight home. I’ll be arriving back in Sydney on the 16th of December. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends and family again (I can’t wait to catch up with everyone!) … but it will be very sad to leave the friends I’ve made here.

That’ll do for now. Rest assured: for the moment I’m safe. I’ll give you the same advice I’m using here. That is, don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers or hear on the TV/radio, or the gossip people spread. I’m staying “alert but not alarmed”, and if anything happens, I’ll let you know!

Cheers,
Andy

family

/'fæməli/ n. 1 a father, mother and their sons and daughters. 2 a group of people related by blood, marriage, law, or custom.

It’s been a busy week. My parents arrived on Friday afternoon for a whirlwind tour of Fiji, a bit of a holiday, and to visit me for my birthday. I am now 29 years old.

We had a good time, and packed a whole lot of Viti Levu (the more southern of the two main islands of Fiji) and the Yasawas (a western group of islands) into a very short week. But it was great. My parents were able to visit the school where I’ve been working, and meet all my friends (both Fijian and other volunteers from all over Australia and New Zealand). It was a fantastic time, and I’m extremely grateful that they were able to make the trip over here. That’s twenty-nine birthdays I have celebrated with my parents! I’m sorry Tanni and Belinda couldn’t be here as well.

My hope was to be able to show my parents some of the more beautiful aspects of Fiji, like the multicoloured sunsets, and the millions of stars that shine more brightly in the Fijian sky, unhindered by the lights and pollution of a “modern” city like Sydney. Unfortunately, that particular week was spent in the vicinity of a tropical cyclone, so we were mostly blessed with clouds and wind. It was sunny on the boat on the way to and from the island. This is a perfect example of Murphy’s Law!!

I am now on the homeward stretch; there’s about a month-and-a-half until I return to Sydney. There are going to be lots of mixed emotions happening, I’m sure. It will be really interesting to see how things have changed, and what things are the same. I am excited about what God has in store for my future, and am eagerly waiting to see what’s around the corner.

To close this entry, let me show you a picture of how the thieves broke into our house. This is our front door, which we had thought was fairly secure, but was apparently only made of two thin pieces of plywood. It’s been fixed now, and as an added bonus, the PWD (Public Works Department) has given us four new bolts for our back door, are in the process of painting the outside of the building, and are arranging for new flyscreens on all the windows. We really need this, because the mosquitoes are coming out in force (and I don’t really want to find out what having Dengue fever is like!)


Cheers,

Andy

steal

/stil/ v. 1 to illegally, or without the owner’s permission, take possession of something by surreptitiously taking or carrying it away.

Our house was broken into yesterday, at about 3:00 in the morning. Our front door was smashed through. I lost my wallet, some CDs and DVDs, and our computer was taken. I am writing this brief post from an internet café, trying not to take too much time. Still, I am safe and healthy, and the “things” we lost can be replaced.

I promise to write more soon. Hope you are all well.

Cheers,
Andy

colonialism

/kə'loυniəlızm/ n. 1 the extension of a nation’s sovereignty over territory beyond its borders by the establishment of either settler colonies or administrative dependencies in which indigenous populations are directly ruled or displaced. 2 a set of beliefs used to legitimise or promote such a system.

It’s been a bit up-and-down the past two weeks. Partly because of the weather. (I know I wrote about the weather last time, and that it is perhaps one of the most mundane topics of conversation you could ever want to chat with someone about … still, this is kind of significant, so just bear with me). About a fortnight ago, it rained non-stop for a week. I’m not exaggerating. Non-stop. This past week hasn’t been any better. All the Fijians I work with are asking, “What’s going on with the weather?” so it’s not really something that you could call usual. It started to get me down. There was a break in the clouds a day or so ago, so that was some welcome relief. But anyway … I’m still hopin’ for some good ol’ sunshine.

Contributing to my “down-ness”, I heard two brief anecdotes recently that really got me thinking about the nature of things here in Fiji. The first one went like this:

I was having a cup of tea with my friend Ruth, and she mentioned that a native Fijian was talking to her about the cultural differences between Fijians and Anglo-Saxon people. “We think it’s so great, Ruth, that you’ve really tried hard to bring yourself down to our level,” they commented. This speaks volumes. At our pre-departure training programme (which I thought was fantastic; a real eye-opener) we were really encouraged to make an effort at bridging the cultural gap, and trying to demonstrate interest in the language, mannerisms, and beliefs of the people we work with. I’m glad that when such an effort is made, it’s appreciated. But think about what it means. It means that if Ruth hadn’t tried to behave in a culturally sensitive way, and integrate herself into the community, there would be an automatic assumption that she was in some way “better” than the native Fijians in their own country. It means that Fijians believe (or at least, this one Fijian believes) that Fijians aren’t as good, or worthy, as white people.

The other story came as one teacher I work with, Claudette, was talking about her childhood. She mentioned that her father had served in the British Army, and she was telling about how — because of the influence the regimentation of army life had on him — he ran a fairly strict household. She remembers being taught how to eat her food “properly”, by using a knife and fork.

I guess these short, fairly simple stories might not mean much to many people. But they really got me thinking about the Fijian culture, the nature of the Anglo-Saxon way of life, and my role here.

I generally walk down the street carrying an umbrella under my arm, just in case it starts to rain. There have been several occasions recently where I have imagined how I must look to people. If I was wearing a suit, and maybe a bowler hat, I’m sure I would look like “the perfect English gentleman”. When I catch a taxi, I usually sit in the back seat, smiling mildly out at the locals walking along as we zoom past … “Home, James.” It could just be me, but sometimes I feel like I’m being stared at on the bus, or at least sense curious glances that stray over me just a moment too long. The fact that we have an indigenous Fijian living in our so-called “maid’s quarters”, who comes in to clean our house once a week and “do some work in the gardens” smacks of the “master-servant” relationship.

In some ways, it’s futile. No matter how many Fijian language lessons I take; no matter how many Fijian friends I make; no matter how much I wear a sulu (the traditional wrap-around “skirt” worn by men in Fiji); no matter how many other American, British, Australian, and New Zealander expatriates live and work in Suva; my skin is still white, and I stand out. I’m a kai valagi, /kai βa'laŋi/, a white person — albeit one who is genuinely interested in the people and culture of Fiji.

This is very closely connected to the idea of international “aid”. The “help” that we as Australian volunteers are supposed to be offering the people of Fiji. The very reason we’re here. I have met kai valagi people who are so keen to “make a difference” and “improve the chances” of the Fijians. But I have been asking myself where this motivation comes from. Is it genuine desire to advance the quality of life of Fijians in ways that might otherwise not be available? Or is it trying to make Fijians more “Western”, and less “uncivilised”? (Is there even a distinction between the two questions?) Why do Aussies want to come and volunteer here? Is it to provide better services, or to show the locals “how it should be done”? How close does it all come to racism?

Sometimes I have wanted to scream. “You aren’t beneath us! What are you talking about? You can’t eat properly unless you’re holding cutlery?! Don’t listen to me! What do you think?!” Is there anything inherently wrong with sitting on the floor while you eat your dinner? (What if you can’t afford furniture?) Is there anything wrong with using traditional herbal medicines? (What is the average life expectancy here?) Why do you need to own your own car? (What’s the current level of taxi- and bus-generated pollution?) Who needs a TV? (How much time do people spend here drinking kava and leaving their children to wander round the streets? Is owning a TV a better option?)

I’ve seen some really genuine white people, who are interested in what’s happening, who want to learn, who are sensitive, and act “appropriately”. I’ve also seen some pretty patronising stuff. Like the episode when I was in the supermarket, and the following interaction took place between the Fijian guy working in the shop and the older (I’m embarrassed to say, Australian) female customer:
“Are you sure these cushions will be available if I come back tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t want to come back here and find out they’ve all been sold.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Maybe you can keep them aside for me?”
“I’ll do that for you.”
“Well, you just make sure I’ll be able to pick those up tomorrow …”
And then she turned and rushed off down the aisle. But before she disappeared, she realised she’d forgotten something. So, she flicked her head around and said, “… Please!” while the storeperson was left standing, staring at the empty space where she’d just been hurling cursory manners at him.

It’s all very interesting. It makes me sound extremely cynical, and I’m sure (as with most things) these remarks are just sweeping generalisations. I don’t have any answers. But I don’t apologise. These are just things I’ve seen and thoughts I’ve had. Maybe one day it will all make sense.

Tomorrow, I’m going to Caqalai /ðaŋga'lai/ with Wes, Alex, and Kath. It’ll be nice to have a bit of a relaxing time away from the city; I was hoping to finish off the book I’m reading: Life of Pi by Yann Martel (although it sounds like Wes has got a fair bit of activity planned … walking, swimming, snorkelling … Life’s tough, but I’ll struggle through!)

Cheers,
Andy

weather

/'wεðə/ n. 1 the state of the atmosphere, mainly with respect to its effects upon life and human activities. As distinguished from climate, weather consists of the short-term (minutes to months) variations of the atmosphere. Popularly, weather is thought of in terms of temperature, humidity, precipitation, cloudiness, brightness, visibility, and wind. 2 the short term state of the atmosphere at a specific time and place, including the temperature, humidity, cloud coverage and fall of precipitation, wind, etc.

Every weekday morning, I catch the bus to work. (I was walking for a while, as some of you may know. Catching the bus isn’t much of a short cut, but it is less strenuous. Also, people kept commenting that I was losing weight, so I decided to stop walking so much. I still do walk at least part of the way home, because the buses are not that frequent — apparently I live in a “rich” area where everyone can afford taxis … or their own 4WD.) The bus travels down along Queen Elizabeth Drive, which is also known as “the sea wall”, and most of the time, it’s a pretty decent drive.

The weather here in Suva is extremely changeable. The general pattern seems to be about four days of hot sunshine, and then four days of cooler, cloudy weather with some rain thrown in for good measure. Which usually means that it’s pretty humid when it’s hot, the puddles just start to dry up, and then get filled again by the sudden downpour (consequently, there’s a never-ending supply of stagnant water around, and apparently this is the ideal breeding ground for mosquitoes carrying Dengue fever). About a fortnight ago, it was so humid at night that all I had on my bed was one sheet. But it’s cooled down again a bit now, so I’ve pulled out my fleecy blanket again.

So anyway, the sea wall, with its backdrop of the hills of Suva, makes a very pretty canvas to observe the tides and changing weather. Most of the time it’s fine and sunny. Sometimes, early in the morning, the people on the other side of the harbour light fires and all the smoke creates a multilayered effect (this reminds me of my trip to Thailand earlier in the year, where I saw a similar kind of thing: the mountains surrounding Chiang Mai in the early hours of the morning are stunning). Some weeks ago, the morning bus trip into town was miserable. It was raining hard, the wind was blowing, and the waves were spilling over onto the footpath. You could hardly see the mountains in the distance, and it was so cold I had three layers on. Three! In tropical Fiji! Can you believe it?

Yesterday, I woke up to the sound of rain, even though it was bright and sunny outside my window. I wanted to take my camera to work with me, because that afternoon there was a rugby match between the Fiji Deaf Rugby team, and a visiting team from New Zealand. (By the way, the Kiwis were thrashed … sixty-something to seven … and the seven points were only because apparently some of the Fijians swapped teams towards the end of the game to give the poor guys a hand! I was barracking for the Fijians …) It was lucky I did have my camera with me. This is one of the most perfect rainbows I have seen. I was awestruck by the way it touched the water, and I love the different colours of the clouds reflected in the harbour.

And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.”

— Genesis 9:12-16 (NIV)

In other news, just last night I got to shake hands with Waiseli Serevi … probably Fiji’s most famous celebrity. He’s a rugby player, and was invited as the “chief guest” to a fundraising dinner for a rural village youth group. All in all, he seems like a very humble, sincere man. His speech was entirely in Fijian, but, through a rather convoluted turn of events, I was able to understand what he said … Here’s how it happened: I was at a table with Tina, one of the teachers from my school. She had been involved in organising the night, and had invited us along. There were a couple of Deaf staff members from the school and the hostel at our table as well. As Serevi was delivering his speech, Tina was interpreting from Fijian into FJSL (Fijian Sign Language). I was able to pick up the gist of what she was signing, then interpret it into English. I whispered it to Janet (who was sitting next to me), and she in turn whispered it to Kathryn (who was sitting next to her). So how’s that?! We never actually asked Kathryn what she thought Serevi was talking about, so who knows how effective the whole procedure was …


I hope everyone’s well. I’d love to hear from you if you get a chance to send me an e-mail. By the way, have I broken some kind of record for the most number of parentheses used in one blog posting today?!

Cheers,
Andy

parade

/pəˈreιd/ n. 1 an organised procession consisting of a series of consecutive displays, performances, exhibits, etc. displayed by moving down a street past a crowd.

I think I’ve heard the saying, “everybody loves a parade”. I guess it’s true, but especially for the people of Fiji, I’m sure. I’ve seen two parades in the main street of Suva over the past month!

The first was for the 2006 Hibiscus Festival a few weeks ago. This is a big event in Suva, and something akin to the Royal Easter Show in NSW. I was at Deaf Christian Fellowship Camp for most of the festivities, but did make it back for the main parade. In the lead-up to the Festival there were several so-called “queens” (read, “beauty pageant contestants”) who were all competing for the Miss Hibiscus 2006 crown. And, for the first time ever, the general public could actually SMS in their votes on who they wanted to win!

So on the Saturday (the last day of Hibiscus), they all loaded themselves onto elaborate floats guarded by Fijian warriors, and paraded down Suva’s main street. There were lollies and chocolates being thrown out into the crowd, and lots of cheering and flag-waving. It was all very exciting, and the marching bands were awesome. I think it would be very unlikely that you would hear “Onward, Christian Soldiers” being played by a marching band down the main streets of Sydney nowadays. By the time the parade finished at Albert Park, it was packed chock full of stalls, and barbecues, and Ferris wheels. Man, the Ferris wheels! I promised Janet that I would call her to meet up at the Park, and so when I rang her, I said, “I’m standing near a bunch of three Ferris wheels all grouped together.” “From where I’m standing, I can see eight of them,” she said, “so that doesn’t help me very much!” You know how when you go on a roller coaster, you scream? You’ll have to give me your ideas about why that is. Is it because you’re enjoying yourself? Is it because you’re frightened? Or is it just the breakneck speed at which you travel around the ups and downs, the loops, and the sharp turns? You wouldn’t normally think that people on a Ferris wheel would be screaming, hey? … Usually they’re just a nice leisurely ride to the top (to get a bird’s-eye view of the park), and then you come down again, right? Well, the people riding on these Ferris wheels were screaming, and it was literally from fright, I’m sure. Unfortunately, my photo doesn’t really show how fast the thing is actually spinning. Needless to say, I didn’t actually ride one. They also had some dodgem cars and things. Janet (in her typically dry way) said, “This looks like the same kind of thing your mother would have ridden on thirty years ago … In fact, it’s probably the very same one your mother rode on thirty years ago!!” The big dent and gaping hole in the front of one of the cars was somewhat off-putting.


Yesterday marked the beginning of National Library Week, which is a great idea. There had been mention of it at my school, but I admit, I did forget about it. So, yesterday, when I went into the markets to buy some bananas ($3 FJD per bunch) and tomatoes ($2 FJD per bag), all the roads were blocked off, and there were police cars with sirens blaring, leading a procession of school kids (and of course, marching bands) down Victoria Parade. They were very cute, because they had all dressed up as their favourite story-book character. There were lots of fairy wings and pretty pink dresses, and I saw one little girl with a bright yellow wig (Goldilocks?). I caught sight of a Wicked Witch of the West, and then came this little group of young boys, wearing plain brown shorts and white singlets and carrying lanterns over their shoulders. I was a little confused for a while, then I saw one of them with a piece of paper pinned to his shirt: “seven dwarves”! All in all, it was really enjoyable … there were lots of adults involved too, really getting into the spirit of Library Week. It actually took me back to our “Book Week” parades we used to have in primary school. Ahh, memories!

This message was sent to my phone via text message the other day:

“The network crossover this weekend may affect all your … services at times between 11:30pm Sat n early Mon. Details available in Fiji Times.”

Anyway. Hope you’re all well. It’s been good to get e-mail updates from everyone. Thanks for writing to me!

Cheers, Andy

marriage

/ˈmærιdʒ/ n., 1 the social institution under which a man and woman establish their decision to live as husband and wife by legal commitments, religious ceremonies, etc. 2 the state, condition, or relationship of being married; wedlock. 3 the legal or religious ceremony that formalises the decision of a man and woman to live as husband and wife, including the accompanying social festivities.


Last week was fantastic. After a long bus ride from Suva to Nadi /'na:ndi:/ I caught an even longer flight back to Sydney. It was awesome to see my family and friends again.

One of the highlights of the week was catching up with my good friends Heather and Gary, from the United States. They have just finished a tour of the US and Asia, and are now staying with my parents for the next few months. They are also keeping a blog of their adventures … If you get a chance, check it out at http://www.xanga.com/newlywednomads. Heather and Gary have been great family friends for a long time now, are honorary Aussies, and I really enjoyed their friendship and conversation over the week. I’m only sorry I didn’t have longer to hang out with my “brother and sister”. Don’t worry, mates, I’ll see you at Christmas.

I also had a nice long phone conversation with my best mate, Phil, who is teaching in Thailand. It was good to chat with him after not being able to hear how he’s been going for so long.

My sister’s wedding on the Sunday was beautiful. Both Tania and Belinda are princesses. The day started out looking a bit grey and blustery, but it all blew away and turned into a beautiful sunny day. Everyone spruced up really well, and overall it was a really happy time. Belinda and my new brother Mat are honeymooning close to the NSW/Queensland border. Again, I’m looking forward to catching up with everyone in December. The reception was just as beautiful, in a picturesque location overlooking Darling Harbour.

A couple of my relos told me I had lost weight, so I obviously look thinner. But, for the record, I would just like to advise everyone that I have officially lost only 2-3kg, which is not really that bad!

After finishing the reception at about 11:00pm, we went home and I finished packing my bag for the flight back to Nadi. I was done by 3am, and had about an hour’s sleep before Dad came and woke me up at 4am to drive to Sydney airport. It was really tough. After spending a fantastic week with friends and family, then being able to share in the emotion of my sister’s wedding, and being so tired on Monday morning, it was really hard for me to get on the plane. Realistically, it would have been better for me to relax for an extra day in Sydney. I ended up arriving back in Suva at about 9:00 at night, and I was dead tired.

I’ve had a few good nights’ sleep since then, though, and have recovered, and worked my way back into the swing of things here in Fiji. Jim, the director of the school has arrived from his overseas trip, and it has been good to finally meet him. I have started taking a class in basic Fijian too! Au sa via sara yaloyalo, ia au sa osooso! (I really want to watch a movie, but I’m busy)!

The next big exciting thing on the agenda is when my parents arrive in October to help me celebrate my birthday, so I’m really looking forward to that. I hope everyone who visits this site is happy and healthy. Please check back regularly.


Cheers,
Andy

fellowship

/ˈfεloυſιp/ n. 1a the condition of sharing similar interests, ideals, or experiences, as by reason of profession, religion, or nationality. b the companionship of individuals in a congenial atmosphere and on equal terms. 2 a close association of friends or equals sharing similar interests. 3 friendship; comradeship.

I spent most of this week camping. I joined a big group of the Deaf Christian Fellowship (including some of the students at the school where I work) and travelled to Deuba /nde'umba/ on the Coral Coast, where we had a great time. Those of you who know me really well will be quite surprised to hear that I involved myself briefly in a game of rugby. This did result in me injuring myself on an open window (honestly, who expects to be caught in the neck by a window frame on the rugby field?) but it was still good.

The food was … camp-like. Porridge for breakfast every morning. Then morning tea. Then lunch. Then dinner. Then supper. It does make me wonder … with so much eating, why did I not need to use the toilet the whole week? Surely this is not right? I wonder if it’s a bad sign for the coming few days. Fijian and Indo-Fijian food tastes really good on the whole, but it does play around with your digestive system. Anyway. Sorry for the excess information there. Moving on…

On one of the few sunny days we had (it was drizzling and cloudy for the most part; typical eastern Fiji style) we all went to the beach for a bit of a swim, which was really nice. It was warm and refreshing. One of the younger girls had forgotten to take the packet of chips out of the pocket of her swimming shorts though, and very soon we were surrounded by a school of fish. It was fantastic. A very surreal, bizarre feeling though. The fish didn’t touch us at all, and swam away very quickly once the food disappeared, but it was a nice experience.

It was great to get to know some more Deaf people, and socialise with them. I learned some new Fijian Sign Language (which has just recently been allocated an official abbreviation, FJSL, by the Fijian Association of the Deaf). I made some new friends, which was awesome. I am so thankful for the openness of the Fijian people, putting up with all my questions and mistakes. I have tried to show my interest in their language and culture as much as I can. Even more so, I am heaps thankful for the way the Deaf people here are accepting me, and welcoming me, and helping me learn new signs and change the ones I knew which don’t apply here. The overall theme of the camp was “Fellowship”, and we were given several challenging reminders of what fellowship is, and means, and how to stay in fellowship.

As an aside, if you’re wondering why I’ve capitalised the word “Deaf” all the time here, I’d encourage you to search the web for articles about Deaf culture and Deaf communities.

I will be going home to Sydney in just a few days for my sister’s wedding, so stay tuned for my next update, which will probably be from the best city in the world (Sydney, in case any of you out there were confused and I needed to say it again)!

wildlife

/'waıldlaıf/ n. 1 living things and especially mammals, birds, and fishes that are neither human nor domesticated.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that there is a great diversity of species here, of the kind you would never expect to see in Australia. The interesting thing is that the animals here are perhaps more daring and seem to appear more often.

The obvious ones are the dogs. In our street they are everywhere, running around like it’s nobody else’s business. This is one of the reasons I haven’t ridden my bike very much here: they chase me … apparently, so my friend Ruth tells me, to try and bite my legs. Alex has taken to feeding them. Our neighbours say that since he started doing that, they look much healthier and happier, which is great. The down side is that they have all fallen in love with him. They follow him everywhere. He has occasionally had to hop on a passing bus to get to work, otherwise they’d accompany him all the way in to town. When he arrives home in the evenings there is a great baying and howling. “Sounds like Alex is back,” we all say. They run after his taxis, and stand up on their hind legs to try and scrabble their way in through the car door. We had a few friends over for dinner the other night, and I left the door open for two minutes, and suddenly there was a great parade of canine visitors traipsing their way through our laundry and into the kitchen. “Get out! You’ve got us confused with somebody else! Alex lives across the road!” Dumb dogs. Kathryn (who is volunteering at the Fiji SPCA) plans to get them all desexed. They say that that is a big problem here in Suva: very few people have their pets desexed.

A week or so ago, we were sitting around the table, and I heard this faint mewing noise. We opened the curtains and there was a tiny ginger striped kitten clinging onto the fly wire. I thought he may have been stuck, but as soon as we went outside, he jumped down and started wandering around our feet. It was lucky Janet was strong-willed, otherwise Wes and I would have let our hearts rule our heads and invite the little fella in (which, in the long run, would probably not have been a good idea, what with food and toilet training, and all the rest).

Now, here are a couple of photos to try and illustrate some of the more random visitors I have seen around the place.

These are the ants. Not too exciting, you might say. But these guys are like food detectives. Everything in the kitchen has to stay absolutely spotless, otherwise there is a great army of ants arrive to feed on whatever dribble of food you might have missed in the cleaning up. They are absolutely relentless. Janet hates them with a passion. In this photo, there is obviously some small smudge of food on our chopping boards, and these little guys have sniffed it out and are trying to get to the source, so they can invite all their mates along for the feast.

I have no idea where this one came from. Obviously it’s some kind of grasshopper (maybe if there are any biologists out there, you can give me some more detailed info!) but he was there one morning, just happily sitting on our sugar bowl. They have got to be the longest antennae I have ever seen! He hasn’t showed up again since I took this photo.

This spider is sitting on the lid of our gas stove. He’s not too big … maybe a centimetre or so across. Boy, they can move fast, though. I have a feeling that they can perhaps even jump. By the way, sorry Tanni for including this picture. I know how squeamish spiders make you feel. But imagine if you were living here!

Ahh, the millipedes. Maybe about two or three centimetres long, these little guys are everywhere. Shabina told me that they love to habitat dark, damp places. “Like our house,” I retorted. Truly, our house is surrounded by trees, and in the humid climate of Suva, our place must be paradise for the millipedes. So, we’ve been told that we have to keep it clean and dry, and turn our mattresses over on a regular basis, and change the sheets all the time. Yes, change the sheets. I woke up one morning with an itchy, swollen finger, and couldn’t understand why. Then I found a millipede under my blanket. The little son-of-a-gun must have bitten me during the night!! I have had the rather unfortunate experience of accidentally stepping on a millipede. You wouldn’t think it by looking at them, but they make quite a crunch, sad to say. There is also the much larger, much uglier version of the millipede around. I have seen only two of these, but man, you wouldn’t want to run into one in a dark alley at night time. It’s like something from a science-fiction movie. I have been told that they live in mulberry trees and are quite happy to drop down on unsuspecting passers-by. I just read in an on-line encyclopaedia that they are supposedly not poisonous, but I have been warned not to irritate one, because they can spray something into your eyes which will blind you. The fewer of these I see, the better, I think.

We haven’t had too many cockroaches, thank goodness! There were some huge wasps buzzing around at work the other day, which I was quite apprehensive about, but they seem to have disappeared (for the moment)! I have also seen a fair few mongooses. Apparently, being bitten by a mongoose is one of the easiest and most efficient ways to catch rabies.

Last of all, the cute little geckos. I’ve only seen a couple of these, but we hear their calling every now and then. This little one is climbing up my bedroom wall. Apparently they are good for mosquito control, so we don’t complain when we see these guys around.

Well, that’ll do for now, I think. But before I finish off this entry, here’s a little photo of the four of us. Now that Kathryn has arrived, the Team is complete.

Cheers,
Andy

newcomer

/ˈnju:kΛmə/ n. 1 one who has recently come to a community; a recent arrival. 2 a new participant in some activity; a neophyte.

Just a quick one this week …

Firstly, I should apologise for some of my disparaging remarks about our mobile phone service provider, and our inability to get dial tones most of the time. There was an article in the paper the other day quoting the CEO of the network. In it, he said there is no problem with the network at all … Rather the problems stem from “consumer behaviour”. Apparently, if we all stopped trying to use our mobile phones during the peak periods (generally evening times on weekdays) there would be no problems in getting through. Makes sense to me: If you don’t try to call, you won’t have to worry about being cut off! So anyway … I did want to offer my sincere apologies for my comments which made it seem like there was some problem with the network, when in fact it was our fault all along.

I got a package sent to me from home, which was nice. There were some photos, and a couple of books … some comforting things from Australia.

Yesterday, I spoke to our In-Country Manager, Jennie. We haven’t seen her for about a month. The first thing she said to me was, “You’ve lost weight, man.” I wouldn’t really know, because we don’t have scales. I guess it may have something to do with the fact that I walk an hour to work every day, and then an hour home again. Either that, or I haven’t been eating well, but I don’t think this is the case … I haven’t really been doing anything differently. Heavy-based starchy type foods like cassava and rice are in abundance here, so, it’s a bit of a mystery.

Our newest housemate, Kathryn, arrived on the weekend, and has spent the last two days settling in and getting herself oriented. We went for a walk into town yesterday, and showed her ’round. I’ll have to take a photo of the four of us and post it on here, so you can see the complete team.

Last of all, here is a photo of the “Opening Ceremony” at our mini-Olympics at school the other day. If you click on it, I think it should come up with a bigger version. The kids are so cute!

Cheers,
Andy

frustrated

/frΛsˈtreιtəd/ adj. 1 foiled, stopped, disappointed. 2 suffering from frustration; dissatisfied, agitated, and/or discontent because one is unable to perform an action or fulfill a desire.

I have had a pretty interesting week this week.

One of the classes has been studying “Ancient Civilisations” and were doing a unit on Greece. Inise, their teacher, asked if it would be all right if they could hold a mini Olympic Games, since the Greeks were the ones who started off the tradition. All the other teachers thought it was a great idea, and pretty soon all the classes were involved. “How about we divide the children up into country teams?” one of the others suggested. “They could each wear coloured t-shirts to show which country they’re from.” Some of the kids could even dress up in national costume! Then somebody suggested an opening ceremony with a march into the arena, and this was quickly followed with a torch relay and the lighting of the Olympic flame. Next the idea came up that their families and a prominent “chief guest” could be invited, which would really encourage the kids.

So on Thursday at lunch, they had a practice of the entry into the arena, which took a considerable amount of time!

Then on Friday, it was time for the Olympics! The kids all came in their country colours, and before long, there were flags being painted on cheeks and arms. A brightly coloured sulu was hung up over the stairs, and from nine o’clock to ten o’clock the teachers were making flower arrangements to place around the officials’ seating area, and getting the morning tea ready! The kids all lined up behind the school ready to march and the Olympic torch (which had been doused in kerosene) was waiting to be lit. The Sports Co-ordinator from the Fiji Disabled Persons Association was there to officially open the games. He gave a wonderful speech about how proud he was that the school put in so much effort, and how sports are good for your mind and your body, and how he was looking forward to the day when some of these students will travel overseas to represent Fiji in professional sports (I don’t think he realised that the kids were going to be playing games like Eat The Apple Off The String Without Using Your Hands, and Who Can Chow Through A Bowl Of Porridge The Fastest?)

Then it rained. No, poured. Absolutely bucketed down! We were all standing out in the cold and the wet. But it was still a great experience, and they had a great time. Needless to say, the poor kids were soaked through by lunchtime, and so the conclusion of the games, score tallying, and prize-giving ceremony has been postponed to next Friday. The saga continues …

We have made friends with the other Australian volunteers who live across the street from us. One of them, Alex, brought a keyboard with him, and was looking for someone to show him a bit, or maybe give him some lessons. So that should be pretty fun, I reckon. They’re a pretty cool bunch; in fact, all the volunteers I’ve met have been really friendly and supportive … It’s strange how you can just be thrown together with a completely random group of people and need to make new friends, and get on with your housemates, and it just seems to work. I’m not saying this has been the case for everyone, but I have certainly been blessed in terms of where I’m living, and the people I live with, and the friends I’ve made.

My e-mail account and internet connection has been painfully slow lately. They tell us it’s got something to do with that particular provider not having very good support in Fiji (or something). Last night I was on the ’net for more than an hour trying to access one e-mail message. But it’s been the same with all our mobile phones here too. Our provider ran a special, where you would get double the credit for the value you paid (if you pay $11, you get $22 worth of credit … this also means the more you pay, the more free credit you get). Unfortunately this means absolutely everybody in Fiji has wanted to “double up” and now you need to call at least six times before you have a chance of getting a dial tone. The network just seems to be overloaded. There was even a topical comment printed in the newspaper the other day. Two little guys were standing about two metres from each other, both on their mobile phones. One of them says, “I’m calling you!” and the other replies, “But it’s after 7pm … So I can’t hear you!” Anyway. There are some little frustrations here that we put up with.

Overall I’m doing well, and promise to send out some more personal e-mails to people as soon as I can.

Cheers,
Andy

culture

/ˈkΛltſə/ n. 1 the arts, customs, and habits that characterise a particular racial, religious, social or national group and which depend upon the human capacity for learning and transmitting knowledge to succeeding generations. 2 the beliefs, values, behaviour and material objects that constitute a people’s way of life.

G’day everyone … or should I say, ni sa bula! The past week has been really good, and I have been able to settle in to work reasonably well. I feel as though I have much more of a sense of my place here and where I fit in. Getting to know the staff and the kids better has also helped to make me feel more comfortable.

I have also gradually been finding more and more out about the Fijian culture, which is fascinating. One of the best conversations I had was with Claudette, the head teacher at the school where I’m working. She gave me a whole heap of insight into Fijian traditions, including funerals, weddings, engagements, and the like. She talked a lot about the concept of tabu (pronounced /ˈta:mbu:/), which (from my Western way of understanding) is a restriction on eating something, or going somewhere, or doing something for a certain period of time. For instance, during some festivals or seasons, the ratu (chief) of a particular area can declare fishing tabu, and so you may have to go around to another part of the shore to catch your dinner. When different family groups get together, eating certain foods is tabu.

The interesting thing is the belief that breaking or disobeying the tabu can have dire consequences. Claudette told me about instances of people going fishing in a tabu area and being attacked by sharks, or choking while eating tabu food at a gathering. This is all very well, but it really interests me that these views prevail in a predominantly Christian country, and certainly at my work, which is a Christian school. How do you reconcile these beliefs in superstition and spirits with a belief in one God who has power over everything (including any other kind of spirits) and is the saviour of the world? It certainly is intriguing.

Anyway. I hadn’t meant to get so “preachy”! Here are some other, lighter, aspects of the Fijian culture or way-of-life which I wanted to share:

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  At the traffic lights, red means “stop,” green means “go,” and orange means “floor it, because you might still make it through in time”.



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  In the shops, the sales staff are very attentive. That is, they follow you around, about twenty centimetres behind you, until you decide to buy something. Then they’ll carry it to the cash registers for you.



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  People here actually greet each other in the street. This is really nice, and I’ve decided to milk it for all it’s worth; I’ve been making sure I say good morning to everyone!

This week I went to see a movie at the Alliance Française (yes, that’s right, there is a French cultural centre here in Suva! You can take French lessons, but also study Hindi and Fijian). It was called U-Carmen eKhayelitsha, and is a modern South African adaptation of Bizet’s opera, Carmen. It is sung entirely in Xhosa. If you are a fan of the original opera, I would recommend you to have a look if you get the chance.

That’ll do for now. I’m doing well, and am happy. Hope the same applies to you.
Andy

corporal punishment

/ˈko:prəl ˈpΛnιſmənt/ n. 1 the infliction of physical injury on someone convicted of committing a crime

My friend Copland (who was kind enough to phone me up this week) informed me that “blogs are like relationships … I promise to check your blog; you have to give me something in return.” So, in the interests of not losing any relationships, here is the next installment!

This is our house.

My room is the one second from the right. And don’t be deceived by the blazing light — for those of you who think I’ve been doing nothing but soaking up the sun in Suva, think again. It has been grey and rained for five out of seven days this week. One of my big purchases has been an umbrella. One of my big purchases when I get home will have to be some new shoes; the ones I’ve got here are pretty muddy now!

I have been working at school now for a week-and-a-half. I haven’t been testing any hearing yet, because the audiometer isn’t working, and I’m waiting for a replacement to arrive from Australia (it’ll be here next week). However, I have had an influx of broken hearing aids, so I haven’t been idle. It’s been good to get to know the kids and teachers at the school too. I’m getting more and more familiar with the surroundings too, and finding my way around. “Walk with purpose,” they tell us, trying to prevent us from being mugged. “Make it seem like you know where you’re going.” Actually knowing where you’re going is a big step towards achieving this goal.

Generally, it seems as though you just need to be sensible here when it comes to security (you know: don’t go walking alone at night, lock your doors, etc. etc.). However, we haven’t taken any chances, and this is just one part of our security system here at the house. I was going to say “one small part” but that would hardly be correct, would it? You know those police shows on TV, where they lock someone in the cells, and it makes that heavy, metallic, clanking sound, always with a foreboding air of finality? That’s the kind of noise we hear every time we leave the house!

For all you people in Australia (and I’m pretty sure the US, too), aren’t you glad you don’t get the cane any more at school? Today, as the kids were lining up for class, some of the older ones had — I suppose — been mucking up. So they were called out the front. Have you ever had a delicious meal, and made that lip-smacking noise with a kiss of your lips, while simultaneously pulling your closed fingers away from your mouth? Mwah! Well, that’s the hand shape these boys had to make. They were made to hold one hand in that position with the palm facing upwards. Then the teacher took a plank of wood — I’d say probably about four or five centimetres wide, and about a centimetre or two thick — and brought it down hard and fast on their fingertips. Thock! It was a bit surreal to watch, and actually a bit sickening to hear. It’s the first instance of punishment I’ve seen being doled out at the school … I’m hoping I don’t have to witness it too often.

Anyway. On that happy note, I’ll finish here, and I’ll try and update again really soon! Hope you’re all happy and healthy, and have all your knuckle joints in their proper alignment!

Cheers,
Andy

expatriate

/εks'peıtriət/, n. 1 one who has taken up residence in a foreign country.

Well, first of all I should apologise to those who have been checking this page in the hope of an update, but been bitterly disappointed. I have been pretty busy, and there haven’t been too many chances to access the ’net. But anyway.

Things are going really well. I have now been in Suva, Fiji for a little over one week. Mainly, I have been getting myself oriented with the other volunteers. I am flatting with two others, Wes and Janet, and this past week we have been having fun decking out our new digs. We had a table and some chairs, a few bed frames, and a stove, and that was about it. So it has been a fun experience buying everything else from scratch. We are still living the Spartan life, but hey, it’s all good. As soon as I work out how to do it, I’ll add a photo here so you know what our house looks like.

A lot of this week we have spent travelling in and out of Suva. The streets are pretty higgledy-piggledy, and it has taken a while to learn where the main landmarks are, but I’m sure I’ll get there slowly. I have noticed that there has been heaps of change since I was here in 1998. People are saying that things really started to change after the political coup six years ago. There are many new buildings I don’t recognise, but every now and then something will pop up, like the president’s house, the Hilton Special School, and (sad to say) the McDonald’s in town.

I am living just a short walk from the water, and there are some impressive looking mountains to the west. When the sun sets (if it’s not too cloudy) the scenery is beautiful. I haven’t had a good chance to take some photos yet, but when I get a nice one, I’ll put it on here for you to look at.

We have all had lots of taxi and bus rides. Both are interesting, and both have their pros and cons. For the moment, I’m catching two buses to work, which takes me about an hour. This is an exciting journey of open windows, exhaust fumes, the crowded Bus Stand, and blasting music (I could see the speakers moving violently, no exaggeration — I’m not kidding). On the positive side, it is just a little over $1 for a one-way journey.

One of the greatest things I have appreciated here is the chance to interact with the other volunteers — especially the ones who have already been here three months or more. Their advice has been invaluable, and their help has been fantastic. We were even invited to dinner with some of our neighbours a few days ago.

Anyway. That’ll do for now. I’ll keep you all up to date, and will write again when I get the chance. Thanks to everyone who’s written to me … keep them coming, because it’s been great to hear from you.