Fiji.
I write this two months after the fact which is rarely optimal. It gives perspective but strips the immediacy of the experience, and Fiji was a very definite experience. Unfortunately, the current leaders of the Fijian government take a strong stand on publishing negative opinions of them or their actions, and I found myself targeted by their Chinese software package (The Great Firewall of China) which led to my being censored by my third night there. A very gentle censoring in that I was simply unable to access Blogger either to post or read, and neither was anyone else in Fiji. Admittedly freaky, and I did look over my shoulder a bit more frequently for a few days, but nothing else ever happened. They just shut down what they didn't like and otherwise left me alone.
This demonstrates the dilemma of those dealing with the Fijian government in its current form. They are a military government en-placed by coup and maintained by force, yet their aims for the most part are positive and the government itself is made up of some of the most progressive people I have heard discussed in Fiji. Due to the reluctance of the locals to work as slave labor in colonial-era plantations, tens of thousands of people from the British Indian possessions were imported by white settlers on long-term contracts. Most stayed, but in order to protect the local culture and population most land was held through traditional tenure by Fijians and was unable to be sold. Currently, 85% of the land is still held in this way. Thus nearly 40% of the population has access to less than 15% of the land, and even for this they have to fight with property developers, expats, and other outsiders. The native Fijians often see them as imposed aliens, while the Indo-Fjians see themselves as exploited and discriminated against. Over the last 50 years this has caused a great deal of anger, and the government before the current military takeover was dominated by a very Fijian-nationalist bent which drove many Indo-Fijians out of the country. The current military government, while dominated by Fijians, has made strong efforts to mitigate the race-based anger in the country. There are signs and slogans everywhere trying to play down race and blood and stress the unity of Fiji. Very progressive, yet imposed by the threat of violence. They generally do not beat their opponents (there have been some exceptions) but they do not hesitate to silence any opposition. Progressive Autocracy? Still autocracy, I suppose. It just doesn't quite fit the mold of banana-republic evil-doers.
Easy to forget about as you sit by the water in the evening and watch groups of flying foxes returning from the outer islands like squadrons of bombers sweeping through.Or when eating the best tasting pears I have found anywhere, ever, period.
So, memories of Fiji? Watching huge Fijian men play rugby on a concrete pad that looked as if it used to be the apron of a gasoline station. I think it was theoretically touch rugby, but the touching was occurring with significant force. Blood was flowing freely.
The taste and texture of chicken heads in a black bean sauce. Not bad, all told, but crunchier than I am accustomed to.
Kava ceremonies, many kava ceremonies. These produce a mild hypnotic effect, a blissful relaxation without impairment or hangover. Good stuff.
Some shots of the Suva suburbs. Funky jungle livin'.
Packs of wild dogs in the parks lolling about. Maybe wild is too strong a term? Packs of independent dogs without medical care in tropical environments. They looked like hell but seemed content. It did explain why there were not too many folks in the parks.
The Archive. I do not think I will ever forget the inside of the Archive. The outside, possibly, though it is situated next to a very strange looking cathedral and features a large burn pile for who the hell knows what organic refuse. But inside were some wonderful people who went far out of their way to assist me. I am forever in their debt.
Views from atop and outside the Archives
Rafting the Navua river. This trip down a gorge through the center of Viti Levu, Fiji's largest island, is hardly whitewater. It was sedate enough to flop out of the rafts and float alongside without a concern, but the scenery was sublime. Palms, bamboo, locals riding unsaddled horses through the deep blue water pouring through a verdantly overgrown gorge. Waterfalls like exclamation marks as you pass the stages of the river. If Fabio was to appear it would either be a Harlequin cover or a Lifetime special, but I had Ben Cross instead. Chariots of Fire guy and Spock's dad in the latest Star Trek Ben Cross? Didn't chat, just noticed, then went back to the scenery and the fish nibbling my toes.
The incredible social differences between the Indo-fijians and the Fijians. The Fijians are a blend of Polynesian and Melanesian peoples, large folks with a very laid back, very traditional lifestyle. They have been encouraged to maintain their culture by remaining in the villages and thus to be fundamentally conservative in their outlook. They are also, almost to a person, adherents of Christianity. The traditional island life is not lazy, but it does prize an economy of effort. Traders are quiet and generally not aggressive, outside of the tourist and flea markets. Fijian taxi drivers don't chat much, but they sing quite a bit.
The Indo-Fijians are necessarily much less conservative in outlook. They are representatives of all parts of the Indian subcontinent; Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Punjabi, Tamil, Bengali. When brought to Fiji to work they were forced to live and dine together, breaking the strictures of religion, caste, and age-old enimities. They went on to create a syncretic culture, one separated enough from most of their origins as to preclude an easy return to India. Yet the essential bustle and drive for self-improvement seen so often in the Subcontinent is very present here. These folks tend to be more of the merchant class, and less of the government and military. They are direct and active in seeking your business, pulling you into a store, haggling as you try to run away, getting your life story in the space of a four block cab ride. They are no more or less pleasant than the Fijians, they just live by a different schedule. Like outsider groups (currently a large minority, 38% of the population) in so many places, their drive has led some to great success but has also engendered deep resentment from the indigenous population. Many have left for freindlier shores, and those still in Fiji seem nervous and watchful.
These three buildings were within several blocks of each other near the University.
A bit of home from the University Social Science Dept. office wall.
There are areas of agreement. Blazing hot curries are for breakfast, brunch, and any other time. The head is the best part of the fish. Kids are sacred. Children are beloved here to an extent that charmed me. If you walk into a restaraunt with your baby in arms don't be shocked when your server asks to pick him/her up, then proceeds to carry them away to meet everyone in the kitchen and likely some of the other diners. A friend I met there has twin, blond, three year-old girls. It has taken him a year to grow accumstomed to the crowd that envelops him and them whenever he goes out, and the tendency for the girls to disappear into those crowds and re-emerge with assorted new items of clothing and jewelry as well as food, toys, and religious symbols.
Yet the mutual trust that extends around children is not shared in the stores. I remember very clearly being in a grocery store in the nicest shopping plaza in Suva when a security guard approached the two local women ahead of me in the aisle. He asked that they reurn their small handbags to the security counter before shopping. The women then turned and looked at me with my enormous Timbuk shoulder bag, said nothing, and left for the security counter. It was not a suggestion that I do the same, but an acknowledgement that my expat/tourist/white status excluded me from many of the rules the locals had to follow. It was also very uncomfortable.
That same mall was the start of my quest for a decent bookstore. It was deeply weird to be in a place without a strong reading culture. No criticism at all intended, I am simply used to seeing books for sale everywhere, yet outside of the small library branch near the Archives this was not in evidence in Fiji. Bookstores, including the University Bookstore, were focused upon a few airport thrillers and lots of young-adult stuff like Twilight. I asked around for the best bookstore in Suva, and found something very similar to a cross between a small Christian bookstore and the children's section of Border's. So be it, different strokes. But doing without my Economist? Lord no. As described above I finally filled my Jones by raiding expat coffee shops around town.
The Expats. Gotta say, for a bunch of crusty beachcombers these folks treated me quite well. By the end of my stay I had more invitations than I could accept. I was fortunate enough to have an in via a friend from Nome with some wonderful folks who had been mid-levels in Kotz for years. He now worked with the Peace Corps and she with the embassy. They had me over repeatedly during my stay, introducing me around and showing me Suva. Their hospitality was humbling and I hope to return the favor when I can. One of the groups they introduced me to was the Rucksack Club, an informal tramping/adventure group made up of mostly expats interested in discovering all the nooks of the Fijian archipealago. During my three week stay I went on two expeditions with them, one to a waterfall and another to a former gun emplacement. The folks were welcoming and deeply vaired, with members from Asia, Europe, Australia, the Caribbean, and North America. Good times, and they accept temporary members. Much recommended if you are heading over.
Great hiking country.
View from the gun emplacement. Notice the sunken ships in the middle of the harbor.
Met some very kind Australian folks while diving. That's right, diving. Given my swimming ability it seemed important to learn how to survive under water rather than atop it. Fiji has some of the world's best, and I received my certifiaction diving at Beqa lagoon, world famous for its sharks. Big sharks. Easily one of the most revelatory things I have ever done. The training pool sucked and I burned myself ruby, but all worth it.
My dive partner was the husband of a senior official in the Australian embassy, who invited me home for dinner and proceeded to insist that Karen and I stay with them if we ever visit Fiji. Damn straight, you should have seen his house, not to mention his manners. I enjoy Australians immensely, generally. The Kiwis like to compare themselves to Canadians in that they are a small population, with quiet, somewhat refined people living next to a much larger, richer, more powerful, and generally crass, rumbunctious, and backslapping giant of a country. They see yanks and aussies as basically the same, and while not perfect companions at least we aren't poms. True enough. Aussies are loud, but they are also open, direct, warm as hell, and a lot of fun to hang out with. Lots of hospitality, and very little fakery in their make-up. I have yet to deal with some passive-aggressive Aussie, a few straight up agressive ones perhaps... Many expats isolate themselves from their surroundings, with groups such as the Rucksack club paradoxically reinforcing this through social ties even as they wander their adopted lands. The Aussies, however, seem to have personas too big to be held in narrow definitions. Plus their consulates used to have great parties. Damn you Bin Laden.
The Aussies at times can get a bit much, as per the Kiwis' complaints, but even that is fun in a voyeuristic sense. The hotel I stayed at had just repoened and was about 10K out of town. Thus it was completely dead the majority of the time. One night shattered this pattern, however, as about 20 folks from Melbourne descended on the hotel. They were employed by the parent chain of the place running the 'platinum level' equivalent loyalty program and had been flown over for one night at this place and one on the other side of the island, the idea being that they could then sell the properties over the phone with some knowledge of the place. They had boarded a flight at 4AM in Melbourne, were in Suva for about 14 hours, and then would be shuffled onwards. They seemed determined to use this time to completely drain the facility of anything edible or intoxicating. These people partied, especially given their status as employees. They were drunk when I got back at 6 PM and continued to drink, calling me over and giving me free food and such despite the objections of the wait staff. A couple of hours later found me sitting on the back lawn watching people jump from balconies and women pissing in the grass in front of horrified local staff. Two hours more and I was hiding with a local secuirty guard from a pack of screaming cougars. Fun night, but I could not maintain. I finally slipped off about 1 AM, and in the morning they were gone leaving naught but the pyschic scars of the night staff and a disgruntled cleaning crew.
Most of my time in Fiji was not nearly so raucous. One of the folks at the Archive who invited me to lunch at her place did so on a Sunday, and I joined her and her husband at their home. They were an anomaly in Fijian society, she a Indo-Fijian woman who had converted to Christianity and married a traditional Fijian man from one of the villages. Not too traditional, however, for the match was not smiled upon by either family. Her devout Hindu mother was at the home during the meal and would mutter angrily every time the word church was mentioned, which was quite frequently. The meal was nice nonetheless, very basic but very tasty Indian food served in a clean home but one with piped cold water only and very sparsely furnished. Fiji is a poor country, but these folks put out the best they had and made me feel very welcome. I would have felt welcome without the food, but Fiji as a whole has an admirable sense of hospitality and communinalism. They also invited me to church.
I haven't been to church aside from weddings and funerals for more than half my life. No real desire burns my soul to visit more frequently. My hosts had been very kind and it seemed that attending would make them happy. Thus I found myself at a Wesleyan Fijian service. More fun than I expected, between the incredibly diverse congregation (including one very mentally ill man in a dress playing with barbie dolls), the fact that it was led by a youth group, the scriptural reading with at least five Jackson Five references in a ten minute spiel, and the wonderful singing, dancing and finally.....interpretive dance of scriptural stories! Glad I went, stranger than a SF hipster bar.
Mormon wardhouse, Lami Bay.
One final story, one also church related. During my travels around Suva I happened upon the Mormon Temple. Driven by a mix of nostalgia and interest I wandered around the grounds after checking with the Security man at the gate. Upon my departure the gentleman asked if I was a member of the church, and then asked if I could contribute to his lunch fund. Taken aback, I asked how much that would cost. He replied: "oh, about tree fitty". Really.
TREE FITTY. That's about the time I noticed he wasn't a man at all, but a 200 foot scaly monster from a Scottish Lake. GO GET YER OWN TREE FITTY YOU DAMN MONSTER!
