50 Days till Leaving Fiji
That was the original title for this
article. Because this week will begin the countdown of the final fifty days of
my Peace Corps service in Fiji. For those of you marking your calendars, my
status as a volunteer changes on June 4 from PCV to RPCV – the “R” stands
for “Returning.” But that could be a bit deceiving in my case. On June 7, I
will board a plane and depart these islands but I won’t actually return to the
States until mid-August. More on that later.
As I approach my last few weeks and
months here, I’m naturally introspective; reminiscing. These are the days for
summing up and saying goodbye. A mixture of melancholy and celebration. Yet, I
can’t get the classic linear drumbeat from the 1970’s Paul Simon classic out of
my head. I’m not sure what it means.
“The
problem is all inside your head”
I’m ready to go. It’s bittersweet
but it’s time. I feel sure about that. But it feels untidy. There is great
desire – and anxiety – to wrap it all up cleanly: the entire experience
appropriately sorted and classified, leather-bound and properly shelved for
future reference. Way back in the beginning, almost two years ago now, when we
were in the midst of training, a wise new friend and fellow trainee said to me
that so much was happening to us that it’s impossible to process it all now.
That stuck with me through the months and I came to understand quickly that I
could go home at any time but it might take years for me to make sense of
everything. Certainly now, fifty days is not enough time for such clarity. Fifty
days of shades of grey.
The
answer is easy if you take it logically
The song is about leaving a
relationship and that, as we all probably know, can be messy. But often
necessary. There’s always unfinished business, things left unsaid (for better
or worse), questions left unanswered. If Fiji has been my lover then the affair
was epic - with all of the struggles and joys, doubts and discoveries,
confusions and certainties of the most ardent partner. How does one leave that?
Fanfare or fade-away?
Just
slip out the back, Jack
Fijians love ceremony. It’s built
into their culture in ways both formal (weddings, funerals) and routine
(village meetings). The common props and actions of these gatherings may include
gift offerings and garlanding, opening and closing prayers, the proper seating
of elders, guests and women, and, of course, grog (the national drink). The
sevusevu is one of most important and ancient of Fijian ceremonies when guests
and visitors ask to be welcomed and accepted into the community (be it a
village, a town, an office). This occurs perhaps hundreds of times throughout
the country on any given day: Fijians visiting relatives in other villages,
vacationers on village tours, new employees or volunteers starting jobs at a
Ministry or other organization. I’ve experienced numerous sevusevu’s in my two
years here: when I arrived in-country, when I arrived in the village, when I
visited the Provincial Council for the first time, when I moved to town. One
can never say that Fijians are not welcoming.
The bookend of the sevusevu is the
i’tatau – a farewell ceremony when someone is leaving the community. These are
not usually performed when guests are simply leaving after a short visit but
rather for community members departing for some time. Peace Corps recently
performed an i’tatau for our group at a conference a few weeks back because it
was the last time we would be all together – staff and volunteers. My village will
be inviting me to participate in my own i’tatau at the end of May. Even though
I moved out of my village last year (into town just a few km away), we didn’t
do a formal i’tatau because I wasn’t leaving the community, per se, but rather
just not going to be living there anymore. I’m still considered, and always
will be, a member of the village community. But now I’ll be leaving Fiji, and
the community, for some time and it’s tradition for them to have the i’tatau
for me.
I’m not sure how many other farewells
are in store for me in the next few weeks and the thought of it can be
exhausting. I know it needs to happen this way. It is an important ceremony and
a great honor. But I’m sort of dreading the formalness and intensity of all
these goodbyes. I’d rather just say, “sota tale:” see you later, until we meet
again, ciao for now. Or avoid the whole scene and slip away silently in the
middle of the night. But no. Fading away is not an option.
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| i'Tatau by PC staff for Fiji Group 88. I represented as one of the "chiefs" - hence my placement at the head of the circle. |
Make
a new plan, Stan
When ending a relationship, it’s
good to have a plan: immerse yourself in work; take a vacation; drink with
supportive friends; move to another town. Or, worst case scenario, deal with
your shit. I’ve decided to travel after this breakup. Because the split is
mostly amicable and my ex won’t feel like I’m cheating or moving onto someone
better.
During the recent Close of Service
conference, I enjoyed hearing about all the plans of my fellow volunteers as
they prepared to close this chapter and move onto “life after Fiji.” A variety
of scenarios began to emerge: grad school, employment in the U.S., employment
abroad, world-traveling, and, for a few, delaying the inevitable split and
extending their service here in Fiji for another year. Most of the PCV’s in my
group are doing Peace Corps right out of college or grad school or after
working for just a few years. They are, for the most part, at the beginning of
their careers with all of the energy and enthusiasm required for success at
this stage of life. They are, without exception, a bunch of bright and worldly
individuals. I’ve been impressed with their talents and can’t wait to see what
they do next.
Last year, after the previous group
of volunteers ended their service and returned home, I kept in touch with a few
and had the opportunity to chat with them about their re-adjustment to America
and life after Peace Corps. Like our group, their post-volunteer chapters
represented a variety of plans. Some went back to school, some had jobs, some
were struggling to find jobs, some jumped right back into volunteer service
abroad. But no matter what direction they had chosen, all of them reported
missing Fiji. Despite the best of plans and the brightest of future, break-ups
are hard.
So I’m putting off the inevitable
re-entry and re-adjustment to the U.S. – and any subsequent long-term planning therein
– to travel around a bit. I have plans to head west to Australia, then up into
southeast Asia before turning left again and making my way back to the east
coast of America. Maybe some grand new plan will emerge during these travels
and I’ll know what to do once I get home. I’m certainly not at the beginning of
my career but I feel my Fiji experience opened up a world of new possibilities.
I can’t wait to find out what I might do next.
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| Presenting my pictural representation of my service at COS conference. Guess I should strike "art school" from the list of possible post-Fiji plans. |
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
One of the best lessons Fiji taught
me (and there were many) was to get out my head and get into the moment. Fijians
are some of the most content people I’ve ever met. They seem to move about
their lives freely; reacting to the events of any given day with simple
acceptance. And if they need to re-adjust to a situation or circumstance, they
seem to do so without fanfare or drama. I wonder sometimes if our American
sensibilities can lead us to over-think, over-process, and over-react too
often. I’ve been guilty (see: this article).
So I think it’s time to stop
thinking (so much) about breaking up with Fiji and saying goodbye and figuring
out what I’m going to do next. It’s time to just let it happen and hope that
the moments are not too heavy. And if the situation requires less gravity, then
maybe, instead of taking the advice from a 1970’s pop song, I will employ the breakup technique
from the 1990’s comedy Seinfeld:
My Dear Fiji, I love you but I must
go. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
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| Peace Corps Fiji Group 88 final group photo. Peace out (aka Fiji pose) |
