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