The next day (Sunday 19th) we took it pretty easy. We read and wrote all day. Joe finished the Alan Alda book so we could pass it on, which was great for me because we could talk about the book together finally. We had the same reaction to it: for a "celebrity," he was very much like anyone's grandpa. Alda wrote about existential matters as anyone would talk about learning experiences.
For me, it felt like when I get to talk to people who are going through the early stages of depression. I've been there, done that, and continue to do it with fresh bouts of depression. It's scary, but it's bonding and validating to be able to talk to someone about the experiences. In that same way, talking about or thinking about existential matters (mid-20s crisis anyone?) is scary because it leads you down a road that is dark, but knowing there is someone else who has struggled down the same road is comforting.
I'm sure that my attachment to his character in M.A.S.H. had a big hand in my high approval of the book.
We visited Junior's house that evening to plan the next day. On the way, there are a few stretches without lights and on one particularly long one where there was a little bus-stop alcove, we heard noises that sounded human, but they would quiet very easily. Luckily we were just passing a little shop when this happened, so we backtracked until we felt a little brave. When the same noise of voices and then silence happened, we went back for sure. I was afraid out of my mind because my mind likes to make sure I am utterly alert and terrified. We stayed near the light of the shop until a taxi passed and we paid too much money for the last half mile. But honestly that money was well-spent to get there safely.
Early Monday morning we got on the purple and white, open-air bus towards town. When the bus passed Junior's house, Junior, Fazi, and George hopped on as planned. We got out ten minutes later at an unassuming store front with trinkets and treats and started walking on the road perpendicular to the main road. We passed a few houses, some with kids running around in various shades of undress, and some with chickens and pigs in the side yards and in cages.
Once we left the little town cluster, the road ran through the forest with lovely trees giving us their spare shade. It was a beautiful walk, up to the point when my ears picked up the following statement from George: "These woods can be dangerous sometimes. Sometimes men can get very drunk and hang out here by this road and sometimes will capture a couple walking past and tie the man up to a tree and rape the woman in front of him." Dude, what?! The eff did we get ourselves into?! George spoke it so calmly too, as if it were bad, but not altogether rare. We think now that maybe he was joking. We hope anyway. I could tell Joe had reacted the same way I had because he pulled the pocket knife from its case in his pocket just in case. And he walked a little closer to me.
When we got to "the farm," we were given a tour of all the things growing. They had kava, curry, taro, cassava, bananas, and coconuts. It is here that I learned a little better about land management in Fiji. I already knew that land ownership was very funky. Junior had told us that people don't really "own" land, but tribes of people own land, and citizens can get a 99 year lease of land from the government.
It's a little sticky as to who has the right for all this as well. Junior, born in Fiji but of Indian descent, had fewer land rights than his wife Donna, who is a "native" Fijian. All this really means, however, is that the immigration of her ancestors from Central Africa to Fiji happened BEFORE the immigration of Junior's ancestors from India to Fiji. But Joe and I found ourselves asking the question, who decides the arbitrary number of generations living in Fiji required to make one person native and another not? Donna and Junior were both born in Fiji, but only one had the right to own any land. If I understand it correctly though, they try to solve this grey area by offering citizens the 99 year lease.
Oddly though, people in Fiji don't seem to care much for ownership. If I were cynical or prejudiced, I might say that Fijians are a lazy people, but that's not right. It's weird because I come from a culture where time is money. Americans are an especially efficient people, definitely productive and ambitious, but I don't think I would call Fijians all the negative opposites. These days for Americans communication is instant and life rushes at a thousand miles per hour, and sure, we're great at getting shit done, but I don't think that makes us better. It took me a few days to adjust, but Fiji Time really is a life philosophy. Personal relationships are prized and nurtured in Fiji.
And I think that life philosophy must be carried over into all areas of life. Junior sits on his front porch talking with his children on land that isn't really his own with a house that doesn't consist of much because the concept of housing is much more fluid.
If I understand Junior correctly, people are pretty much free to live where they want to, and pretty much grow anything anywhere they want to. In America, I've heard the term "food insecure," which is the term for people who may not know where their next meal comes from. If Fijians were uptight and wanted to classify people using those guidelines, the majority of the population would be food insecure. The motion of life is wholly different. Food grows wild in Fiji and when Fijians start to realize they are hungry, they look around the property for a papaya, coconut, cassava, or eggplant that can be eaten. It happens in real time. I have the feeling the canning of food that we did this last summer would be totally foreign to Donna and Junior, in part because it would cost a good deal of money to own all the supplies, and also because everything grows all the time and there is no need to preserve anything. Plus, they have no refrigeration, so there is no point in making more than what can be eaten right away.
It's such a different life structure and the more I got to know it, the more I wasn't just appalled by it. As a Type A personality, the first few days were tough because I wanted to be moving efficiently and accomplishing things. The longer I stayed, the more I relaxed a little and went with the flow. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a strict Type A. But at least by the end of the Fiji experience I could sit around and drink kava without feeling like I needed to always be doing something productive. Life just moves at a slower pace.
Anyway, getting back to my point, the farm we visited was the farm that George worked on, and if I understand it correctly, it's basically like a co-op. Fijians share everything, including the workload, and I think then they share the subsequent produce. I'm not sure how the co-op is formed--whether it is with familial relations or something like that.
The farm was nice. We got to eat a bunch of ripe bananas, which oddly were very green. Maybe it was the variety, or maybe it is just that if they ripen while still on the banana tree, they stay green, while if they ripen in transit to, say, some wealthy consumerist country, they turn yellow. Anyway, the ripe green bananas were awesome.
The boys went to go swimming in the river, but came back because it was high tide, which apparently affects how high the river goes. We waited for it to lower. George's aunt made lunch and we all ate together on a tarp under a huge tree. We had dhal soup, cassava, taro, and naan bread. Soooo delicious. I decided to follow them to the river and I'm glad I did. They finally convinced me to come swimming with them--the water, as muddy as it was, looked cool and inviting, especially since it had no harsh salt in it. I zipped off my pant legs to make them into shorts and stripped to my sports bra. The jump in felt great.
The men (Ronnie from the farm, George, Junior and Fazi) were going for the swim with a plan. Ronnie had a bucket and they started diving for fresh-water mussels. The trick was to find soft spots on the bottom of the river dig just under the top layer till you felt the rigid side of the shell. It was tricky. I kept trying to dig which would pop me right up to the surface again. There was no way I was going to open my eyes under water--it was probably bad enough for the rest of my body so no use getting the water in my eyes too--so I couldn't use sight. I tried for twenty minutes unsuccessfully, but then I sort of felt something that might have been the pointy part of a shell, I reached in, and I brought it up, taking a minute to look at it. George realized I had caught one before I did and started cheering. I did a fist pump in the air with the mussel.
I caught two more soon after, but then my luck ran out and so did my attention span. Plus, I was worried about getting burnt since I didn't have sunscreen on. I got out and made my way back to the farm.
I had a dry pair of underwear and a dry shirt and they gave me a towel, so I took off wet clothing and hung it on the line to dry. Then I sat under the big tree and read. By the time Joe came back, he had gotten 4 mussels. Our contribution to the mussel collection was insubstantial, but we were proud.
Shortly after, we packed up and started the walk back to town to catch a ride. When we got to the main road, Junior happened to spot the Muslim man's car and we bummed a ride from him to the Matintar intersection, where we went in to purchase supplies for the lovo that we planned to have that night. A lovo is an underground cookout. You would have to ask Joe about the process, because I really didn't pay attention, but if I understood it correctly, a pit is dug and a fire is started in the pit. Then it is covered with stones that get very hot. The food is wrapped in tin foil and put in between and under the stones and banana leaves are put on top.
Joe and I purchased the supplies because it was our way of saying thank you to our Fiji family. We were very thankful for the experiences we had with them.
After the supermarket, we caught a cab to Junior's house, where they started the lovo just as it was beginning to rain. They were able to keep it covered and went ahead with it despite the rain.
Then it rained harder! My plan had been to cycle back to the hostel as soon as we got to Junior's house so that I could change beds (oh, the joys of hostel dorms and bedbugs) and maybe shower, but the family bike was in use, and plus it was raining
I got the bed change done successfully, told the hostel about the bugs, and decided not to take a shower, as I would just get all wet by rain on the way back anyway. Here I should mention that the hostel actually was decent with their cleanliness. Most mornings we watched them change the sheets and treat or take out a mattress or two. Maybe this would make some people grossed out or mad at the hostel, but with the amount of people who go through that place--and especially the TYPES that went through like us, scallywags--I'm just happy they take it seriously and treat the affected areas. I have no complaints. The bites were not awesome (the sight of them really were the only bad part), but really it was quite manageable.
Next I raced back to Junior's, thankful that I hadn't showered because I was sopping by the time I got there. Donna gave me a few dry clothes and let me change. It was a touching moment when she took care of me like that.
Another person had joined our party. Ludig from the Czech Republic (who I had met the day before at the hostel kitchen) was talking to Joe as meal preparation was going on. He, like us, had been invited to come in out of the weather. He stayed for lovo and kava, and his face seemed to tell how lucky he thought he was for stumbling upon such a crowd as us.
They steamed the mussels and created a couple of sauces. The first was a coconut milk with onions, which is awesome. The second was a lime and chili sauce--my favorite. It was awesome and it was fun eating what we had dived for on the bottom of that muddy river.
Ludig walked home with us and on the way home, we sorta got the impression that he's a little nuts. He had gone to the Denarau marina earlier in the day to try to book a ferry ticket to one of the islands, not realizing that you couldn't just do that—you had to have previously arranged accommodations to do so. So he had booked accommodations and a ferry for the next day. His walk home was what led him past Junior's house, and his plan on the way back to the hostel was to just sort of sneak into one of the dorms at night, sleep, and then sneak out the next morning.
Also we learned that when he was in the United States, he was there without a work visa, but had been doing some work for a guy anyway. The guy had agreed to pay them (Ludig and his companion) $900 for a job, but once the work was complete, he only gave them $500 because he knew he could get away with it, since they couldn't approach authority about it.
So as vindication, they stole his car. They drove it almost all the way to Florida, killed the transmission twice, were stopped by cops but got away, and abandoned the car before leaving the country.
All in all, sort of a weird dude. Once we were in our beds, I saw him walk through our dorm looking for an empty bed, but there wasn't one. I wonder if he found somewhere to stay.
Our last full day in town, we got a few things done. We ate ice cream for the first time since being there. We bought Joe some clothes (handsome board shorts and some mellow Fiji tank tops) and shopped for a sari for me. I didn't buy a sari, but hope to make it to India where I can find the most authentic ones.
When we saw Mormon missionaries on the street, we stopped and talked to them. A co-worker (Mike) at Scientech has a son in Fiji and he had told me I should say hi if possible. The four missionaries knew his son, but said he was on one of the smaller islands. They agreed to tell him hello from his father for me! Hopefully the greeting reached Adam!
We ran to the bus stop because we thought it was coming, but ended up waiting longer because that bus was not our bus. While waiting, we met an Irish couple who were very cool. I wish we had had longer to talk with them.
This day was the first day of school for Fijian elementary students after the summer months. On the other side of town, our bus picked up none other than Fazi and Wazi! :) It was very fun because we got to impress tourists and Fijians on the bus by greeting the boys familiarly, and the boys got to impress tourists and Fijians on the bus by greeting us familiarly. It was very sweet and brought us joy because we got to show off our Fijian family.
We said goodbye to them when we got off at the hostel, but told them we would see them later when we came by to say goodbye to everyone. We packed our bags at the hostel and then took a taxi to Junior's house.
Donna, Junior, Fazi and Shahana were all watching a movie together on the family laptop, but came out to the porch when we arrived. We took a while to chat and we also passed off our books. Shahana had given us two books to read, so in exchange we gave them two books. One was the Alan Alda book, the other was a physics book by Isaac Asimov. We drank tea and Joe repeated again and again how much they would like the physics book. :) Just a bit nerdy. We didn't get to see George to say goodbye. We said our goodbyes, exchanged information, and went home with happy memories and sad goodbyes.
Finally the next morning we would leave. We packed, ate lots and lots of papaya (we had three papayas; two from the island from Sara and Niko and one from George that he swam across the river to get at the farm), and made sure to catch the free shuttle that was going to the airport. The hostel provides a free pick-up from the airport, but they do not offer a free drop-off when you leave, UNLESS someone is being picked up from the airport already. So someone was arriving in Fiji at around 9:00 in the morning.
Once on our way, we realized we left a sulu (sarong) and Joe's swimming trunks. I have a pack towel, but the sarong is beautiful and very, very useful. And Joe first thought he wanted to leave his old swimming trunks, but then decided they would be handy to have around as lightweight lounge sort of stuff. But we left both items!
So our shuttle dropped us off at the airport and we asked her if she were coming back to the airport before noon. She didn't know if she would, but she said she would bring the things for us. We grabbed a bite to eat and watched the information desk where she was going to leave the items in case she couldn't find us. By the time 10:30 came, I was nervous, so I went to ask the desk and they already had our stuff! Turns out the shuttle driver had given them to a taxi that came to the airport. We were very happy campers.
We went through security, found our gate, had a cup of tea, and read until our flight was called. We were so thankful to be on the move again. Fiji was beautiful and definitely an adventure, but we were eager to get on with it. We stepped on the plane and out of the humidity. We were headed for New Zealand.
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