PST: Final week

Not much new to report. Lots of prep for final testing (technical, language, cultural, etc.) and getting ready to move to site. 3 day to swearing in! In a week from now I'll be at my new site, meeting my community and (hopefully) catching up on sleep. Life will change again in this next chapter. The pace, I'm told, will be much slower. The first three months at site are designed for integrating, getting to know your community and assessing the kind of work you'll be doing with them. Sounds nice after the grind of training.

I'll be living close to a nice town and some very nice beaches so I'm anxious to get out and explore! So much to see here and we've barely scratched the surface. Think of it: I've been in the South Pacific for almost 2 months and I've only been swimming in the ocean once! I'm almost as pale as I was when I left DC. My hair might be getting lighter again though (or is that gray?).

Our village training group has been chosen to perform our Meke (a tradional Fijian dance) at swearing-in on Monday. We've been told that the ceremony is typically broadcast on Fiji TV. I've been practicing my autograph!

My new home and neighbors!

I haven't met them (my new neighbors) yet or seen this house in person but another volunteer in the region sent me this photo.

This is a very exciting time! I will wrap up training within the week and begin my transition to my new site: my home for the next 2 years.

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It's winter here under the equator. Of course, in Fiji, that means a "chilly" 85-90 degrees (F) during the day dropping down to maybe 75. Some of the locals wear sweaters at night. I'm still sweating most of the time. Winter also means dry season and we had been experiencing mostly dry/hot days for the past couple weeks. In fact, my village had water shortage problems a few days ago. Then, last night, a deluge.  I woke up to a flooded village - water up to the 2nd stair (of of 3). But I was slow... by the time I thought to take pictures, most of the water had receded.

Sadly, one of the old dogs in the village didn't survive the night (probably drowned in the down-pours) and I was an unfortunate witness to seeing a young boy drag him with a rope tied to one of his legs and slide his lifeless body into the stream by the piggery. From there, I hope, he's simply carried out to sea with the receding tide and flood waters.

I asked another young villager who I was talking to at this moment what date was today. He said June 26. Funny, I thought. I lost my Linus on June 25 two years ago. And, while it's June 26 here in Fiji, it's one day earlier at home.

Site Announcement!

Peace Corps surprised us with site announcements a day early. I can't tell you how exciting that moment is... well, I could, of course, but my words wouldn't do justice. All the anxiety, fear and apprehension combined with weeks of intense instruction, life-style adjustments and culture shock culminate in a weird sudden dissipation. In a second, this huge void is created and then immediately replaced by elation. All the focus shifts to the possibilities that lie ahead in the community where I'll be living and the work I'll be doing. It's quite a high! I know there will be more dips and twists on this ride but for now, for today, I am enjoying this feeling.

I am assigned to a village on the south west side of Viti Levu (the main island of Fiji).My village is tiny (less than 100 people) and I'll be working with them on income generating activities. The nearby town is about a mile away and has shops, a market, restaurants and internet cafes. This area is not very far from where most of Fiji's mainstream tourism (resorts, beaches, etc) and many tourists blow through this town on their way to other destinations in the area.

This part of the island is called the coral coast and my village is probably about 2 miles inland from one of the best surf spots in Fiji. Maybe I'll take lessons (although I'm also told there are sharks). Fiji does not have alot of beaches with breaking waves (the coral reefs keep the breakers well off shore) so this is a nice feature. Once I get there, in a couple weeks, I plan for my first exploration: to map out my running route to the shore!

I will be living in a traditional Bure - a one room Fijian house with thatch roof (woven banana leaves, I think). I'll have electricity and running water including an indoor toilet and bath room. Not sure if there is a shower (but I'm used to bucket baths already). There is an outdoor kitchen area but I could also have a portable gas stove (and probably will) inside the house. I have not seen my house but imagine it looks something like the one in this picture. I've been inside this one and it's absolutely charming! This is the real deal - Peace Corps experience at full throttle.(Well, alright, that may be a bit dramatic. Some of my fellow trainees got assignments in much more remote areas with little or no electricity and only stream-source or rain-catchment water supply. They may lay claim to the "real deal PC experience." But I'll take mine just the same.)

I'm thrilled! I feel connected again to why I did this and why I'm here. I expect more challenges ahead but, for now, once again, I "get it."

I'll be wrapping up my training in the next 10 days. We swear-in an Volunteers on the 4th of July and then within a weeks time of that I'll be moving to my village to start my work.

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Some of you have asked about where to send me stuff (mail, etc.). For now, use this address:

Dave Crowley, PCT

Peace Corps, Fiji

Private Mail Bag

24 Saint Fort Street

Suva, Fiji Islands

I'll have another mailing address once I get to site. I'll post that once I know what it is.

PST Week 4 : June 13–19

Training drags on. In most Peace Corps countries, pre-service training lasts 3 months. In Fiji, only 7 weeks. Thank God. It would be daunting to think that we’re only 1/3 of the way thru. We are actually on the downhill slide toward swearing in which occurs on July 4 – Independence Day! (In more ways than one).

Although out village is great and the host families are treating us well, the actually training part is a grind: language lessons, technical project/program sessions, cross-cultural workshops, safety and health education, and more. All necessary, of course, but much of it is redundant. Our time is highly structured and on top of that, we are required to complete competency questionnaires and worksheets (to prove that we’ve learned what they are trying to teach us) and perform trainee activities (to put into practice what we’ll be expected to do once we’re at site). I know there is purpose and utility in all this training but it’s a bit much. Most of us are chomping at the bit to just get out there are start doing it already – for real. 

We’ve had two placement interviews so far during this time. It’s like a job interview – or more like a job match. The Peace Corps staff discusses your background and interests and tries to match you with the appropriate sites that they have identified for Volunteers. It’s all very coy. Even before we arrive on the islands, they have our resumes and other information from our Peace Corps application process and they have scouted out the prospects for Volunteer service throughout the country.  There are a limited number of options so it seems obvious that much of the matching is done before we even get here. So it feels more or less like a conversation for them to confirm that they are heading in the right direction in placing each of us in the right place.

They don’t reveal many specifics during these interviews so the process from the trainee perspective involves a lot of suspense and guess-work. “How do you feel about traveling by boat?” “How would you handle having no electricity for most hours of the day?” “Are you comfortable working with women’s groups?” We all debrief each other after our respective interviews and try to figure out where we could possibly be headed for service based on what we now know are some of the existing sites and where other Volunteers have served. At the same time, if our short tenure with Peace Corps has taught us anything, it is that All Bets Are Off. Situations are constantly changing and what you think might happen may never occur or be the complete opposite of what you expected.  Probably the number one rule of survival as a Peace Corps Volunteer: be flexible.

Here’s what I’ve been able to glean from my interviews and training experience so far:

Oh, wait! First, what I thoughtmy PC experience would be like going in: as a business volunteer, I would most likely be in an urban setting, working with an NGO or maybe a government ministry, most likely working with the Indo-Fijian population and thereby learning the Hindi language that is spoken here.

Now… here’s what I’ve been able to glean from my interviews and training experience so far:

I will be placed in a rural village working with the native Fijian population and thereby learning the Fijian language (which I have been doing since week one: VinakaVakalevu!) working on projects defined by the community in an unstructured setting (aka not a job, per se). I’ve been asked about my marketing skills and if I’m comfortable working with women and youth/children.

Your guess is as good as mine.

The suspense ends this Friday - the day after I’ll have a chance to post this blog entry. So now you can all share in the suspense!

PST Week 3 : June 6 – 12

Each week, one of the five training villages plays host to the other trainees and our entire group (the 25 of us known as FRE-9’s – that’s all of us that came to Fiji in 2011 with Peace Corps) convenes at the host village for an afternoon of cultural training and activities. This is called, rather obviously, Culture Day and occurs every Friday. The event becomes quite a big deal in the host village as the families plan and prepare the day’s festivities. As the weeks have ticked by, Culture Day has taken on a competitive quality as each successive village works to outdo the previous weeks’ hosts. This week, my host village took our turn and I can report with no embarrassment of excessive pride that we blew the lid off the event.

Let’s start with the food. Now, Fijian food, by my account and experience thus far, is pretty decent, all things considered. There are some requisite oddities in the diet and preparation of certain things (like mixing canned tuna with pumpkin) that one would find in any international travel and there is an excessive amount of dalo (a bland starchy root crop staple that has little flavor to my taste).But the climate produces an abundant variety of fruits and vegetables; the pig and the chicken are decently prepared and consumed (forget about the cow – they don’t know how to do beef here for some reason [insert show leather metaphor here]); and lots of seafood, of course. While the previous Culture Day hosts certainly provided admirable feasts, our village went the distance and prepared a traditional Fijian “lovo.”

The lovo is an earth oven. (Google the term and search for it on You-Tube to see how it’s done). Basically, a pit is dug in the ground and a wood fire is built. Once the wood burns down to embers, large rocks are placed on top. Once those are hot, food is placed on crates and layered on the rocks. One can roast whatever one desires – we had chicken, dalo, and dalo leaves (the edible part of the dalo plant that grows above ground). Then, banana leaves are used to cover the “oven,” followed by, in our case, a plastic sheet held down by rocks. After an hour or so, the layers are removed and therein lies the roasted/smoked bounty for your feast. I discovered a new-found respect for the ubiquitous dalo once I tasted the ones roasted in the lovo. No more boiled dalo for me if I can help it! 

Now, most of us had heard about the lovo even before we arrived in Fiji. It’s one of those cultural benchmarks you read about once you decide to travel (or, in our case, get assigned to) these islands. But we’d been here just under a month and surprisingly had not yet experienced it. SCORE for my village - the bar has been raised! 

We also did something that no other village had done on their Culture Day as of yet. The villagers set up stations where they demonstrated some of the traditional crafts practiced by Fijians: fan and basket weaving (from coconut palms); broom making; and mud-lobster trapping. Several days later, I had the opportunity to test these new-learned skills and I made a broom – albeit a rather thin broom but functional nonetheless. I use it sweep my room out at least a week (probably should do it more frequently but I am really quite busy these days).

Each Culture Day culminates in the presentation of a “meke” by the host trainees. As I have previously written, there are six of us here in my training village and we had been practicing for this since the week after we arrived. A meke is a traditional form of dancing with movements that act out the formal words of song and chanting. The songs usually tell of some historic event or legend. The women of our village taught us 3 or 4 meke’s and we rehearsed several evenings over the past couple weeks at one of their homes. The rehearsals were a village event unto themselves as swarms of villagers (women, children, youth) would hover around the vale doors and windows to sing, clap and cheer us on as we learned and, dare I say, perfected our technique. The Culture Day performance was no less impressive by all accounts (not just mine, thank you very much). That’s right folks: I’m still in show business! (and getting my best reviews ever).

(see my facebook page if this video does not load)

We had our first language exam – a mini mid-training oral test – and I was pleasantly surprised to find I could string together enough Fijian vocabulary to stammer our a few coherent phrases. The challenge is retention: if I let even one day slip without reviewing what we’ve learned, I risk forgetting even the most basic things. But I was encouraged. Until I went home for lunch and my host father said something simple (in Fijian) like “lunch is ready,” and I stared at him like an imp. Oh well… baby steps.

I had another experience of the “now this is Fiji” category. Our village is just a few miles inland from the ocean although the coastline on this part of the island is mostly mangrove swamp. No white sandy beaches of the postcard variety. We got a tip from a villager for a hike that lifted us up into the hillside. After traversing some dirt roads and muddy pathways we emerged atop a clearing that held one solitary tin-roof shack overlooking a spectacularly picturesque view of the pacific. The lone farmer that lived up there kindly allowed us to loll about his property where we stood (and then sat) for about 45 minutes just staring out at the distance palm trees, blue skies and water, other islands in the distance, birds, and cool breezes. I said out loud to my friends, “I have to make it through training so I can get to more of THIS.” We all nodded in agreement.

PST Week 2 : May 30 – June 5

After several days of culture shock and adjustment issues (nauseating heat, language frustration, sleep deprivation, absence of any modern creature comforts, homesickness), I seem to have found my groove again. Each day gets easier, by minute degrees but nevertheless, I am acclimating.

I am fortunate in that I have not experienced any food or water related illnesses. (I fear I may tempt fate by even writing that statement!)  However, the mosquitoes have found me. They love my feet – which are always exposed in Fiji. I keep my feet coated in tropical strength repellent. The other day I made the mistake of spraying my feet while I was wearing my flip-flops. The colors bled and my feet bore the blue and black outline of the straps. So I guess Deet melts or breaks-down plastic or rubber.

We live in sandals and flip flops here. The only time I wear socks is when I run in the mornings sometimes. The roosters start squawking anywhere from 4 to 5 AM (lots of free range chickens roam the village) so I’ve been trying to take their cue and roll out of bed by 6 or so. It’s an opportunity to enjoy the early morning coolness and also normalize my new life with an exercise routine. Running within the village is considered taboo (disrespectful) so we’re restricted to doing any kind of exercise on the main road that runs through the village. It doesn’t provide much variety in the scenery but it’s just as well; the paths within the village are narrow and in poor condition.

I’m starting to get a slight command of the language. I’m sure I sound like Tarzan but I can string together and understand enough phrases to have the most rudimentary conversation. The 3 year old who lives a few houses down the path has been helpful. I can (almost) understand him!

The rainy season seems to be coming to an end. The locals say it’s late in arriving - it rained every single day for the first 10 days and now we can go several days without a drop. And it cools down quite a bit at night which has been nice for sleeping.

I’m getting used to the nightly bed prep of putting my mosquito net in place and tucking it in (from inside the bed). This is a critical task because those suckers can find a way in when they’ve got you in their sights. And then there is the repositioning that is required after I get up in the middle of the night to pee. And that’s at least once during the night! We are encouraged (almost required) to drink lots of water while our bodies adjust to this new climate. During the day, I pee just about every hour on the hour. At night, the urgency sometimes awakens me (hence the aforementioned sleep deprivation) and I lie awake for several minutes debating with myself how bad I need to go versus the laboriousness of the task (re-tucking the net). It could be worse: at least my house has an indoor toilet.

Another benefit to the end of rainy season is that the nights are clearer now and the night sky is truly magical. Oh My Stars! Being in the southern hemisphere provides a whole new view and one of my fellow trainees helped point out the Southern Cross (probably the most famous of the southern hemisphere constellations). Once you spot it, it’s so obvious! I look for it every night and have the Crosby Stills and Nash song on constant re-play in my head. (Do yourself a favor and refresh your musical memory with this classic from the early 80’s: CSN – Southern Cross):

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time

You understand now why you came this way

‘Cause the truth you might be running from is so small

But it’s big as the promise of a coming day.

I was surprised the other evening when I also spotted the Big Dipper up there. I didn’t think it was visible in the southern hemisphere but there it was – hanging very low on the horizon (for us East Coast US folks, it’s typically directly overhead). The Little Dipper (which contains the North Star) is, naturally, completely out of view down under here. I’m re-developing my interest in star gazing and constellations which I haven’t really indulged since high school. If anyone is thinking of sending me something, a book on the southern hemisphere night sky would make an awesome gift!  ;)

PST Week 1 : May 23-29

I'm settling into my training village and I’m assuming at this point that it’s typical of a rural Fijian village. The living conditions are "rustic" and adjusting to them is a great challenge. All my drinking water is filtered but water for bathing comes from rain captured from roof run-off into tanks.

Everyone sits on the floor here although some houses, including mine, have furniture (chairs, sofas, tables for eating). A few of my fellow trainees eat their meals at home on the floor. Most floors have woven mats made out of dried banana tree leaves. The Community Hall, where we have our language class each day, is simply a large empty room with these mats on the floor. We get tired of sitting and lying on the floor for these lessons. My middle-aged body is not as pliable as it used to be – although it seems even these youngsters have difficulty mustering the stamina to maintain these postures.

The “chief” in our PCT group (the oldest male among us), is struggling mightily to adjust. This scares me as he is only a year older than me. He is challenged by the living conditions but has also fallen victim to some rough food experiences – raw fish, eyes and all. He became violently ill and was taken to Suva (the capital) for treatment. When I saw him on Thursday for Center Day (that's when all the sub-groups come together for a full day of training in the town nearest to all our training villages), he seemed well and normal. But the following day, I saw him again and I could see he was not well. Physically, he complained of fever, chills and shaking. But I suspect that his emotional state played into his physical condition as much as anything he’d eaten.

The next day, we heard through the grape vine that he pulled the trigger and ET’d (Early Termination). This was confirmed a few day later. It’s not unusual for some trainees to bail out this quickly (especially the older ones) but it’s disconcerting nonetheless – especially to me. I can’t lie to myself or pretend I haven’t thought about it every day. “This isn’t what I thought it was going to be.” “This is much harder than I realized.” “I miss my life.” “Why live like this.”

For me though, the hardest part is not the living conditions. It’s the lack of privacy and autonomy. I’m mostly uncomfortable living in someone else’s space. Even though my host family is warm, generous and welcoming (as is everyone in the community), I’m feeling quite out of my element. Again, all this is normal and to be expected. But sometimes I feel like I’m in jail – there is no place to go to get away from the “experience.” I hope this will change once I get my site assignment and begin my service in July. I’ll have my own place.

The weeks of training are highly structured. Language classes, primarily, and many other trainings as well (in culture, safety, health and medical, and specific program training – i.e., health or environment development projects). We are learning, mostly, how the Peace Corps model works in developing countries and what we may be able to do specifically in Fiji to help the people improve their lives. For example, in the village where I am living now for training, they have a plan build an extension onto their Community Hall that would include a Dispensary for health services. The cost of the project is around $10,000 Fiji dollars (about $17,000 US) and the community needs to raise that money to execute the plan. As a business advisor, I could help them identify, strategize and implement some revenue generating projects to fund the construction.

Fijians are very religious. The Fijian word for Sunday is Sigatabo which literally translates into “the day of taboo.”  They are very strict about observing their Sabbath by attending multiple church services and resting. It is considered culturally inappropriate to do anything other than pray, rest and read (preferably the bible) on Sundays. No work. No exercise. No sports. No chores (other than preparing, eating and cleaning up after meals).  I thought this would be great! (the doing nothing part) But a few of us couldn’t make it through even our first Sunday without doing SOMETHING.

A few of the local boys invited a couple of us to hike up to a waterfall on the edge of the village. A short hike across a plantation and through the jungle to a stream that opened up to a rather small waterfall that emptied into a deep pool. The waterfall was only a few feet high but the rushing water it created was a force to be reckoned with. It was quite scary, actually. The stream was narrow with slippery rocks between deep pools. We used the rocks to wade upstream and, at times, cross the stream to other side. The village boys were fantastic:  “Grab my hand, my brother,” they would say as they helped me on some of the trickier spots. Their agility in navigating the slick surfaces was impressive. They scurried along without missing a step or slipping an inch.

Once we arrived at the site where the waterfall empties into the pool, we spent some time diving in and swimming. Now this was the Fiji of which I had been dreaming! At one point, I scraped my arm on a rock as I was climbing out of the water. A minor scrape at best.  Later on, when word got back to the village that I had “hurt myself,” the pastor’s wife remarked that “Te fell because he was swimming on Sigatabo.” God had punished me indeed. I dare say it was worth the sin.

As I have mentioned, the biggest challenge for me (and most of us in the group) is privacy - or lack thereof. Yet it’s rather humorous as well. The village loves having us here, tracks our every move and we often here news about one another from our host families before we have the chance to share it with each other. In Fiji, they call this phenomenon the “coconut wireless.” Everyone has cell phones here (one of the few modern touches in the rural village life) and they use them to gossip and keep tabs on everyone else. Naturally, as “exotic” guests of the village, we are on constant display – they are fascinated, and report on, our every move. I feel like I’m on stage all the time. Now you think I might enjoy it but… I wish my acting in DC got this much attention.

Arrival in Fiji: my journey and adventure begins!

May 19 - 25, 2011

BulaVinaka! (standard greeting means roughly “hello good” or “hello thanks”)

Greetings from Fiji!

As you hopefully have heard, I am safe and well – and very busy! Internet and phone access will not be readily available for the next couple months so contact back home will be few and far between at first. Rest assured, I am doing well (healthy, happy, safe) and having an incredible experience.

Peace Corps training is intense. There are 26 people in my group – mostly youngsters but there are a few us who are  40+. So far, it’s like camping. We are staying in a retreat or conference center with dorm style housing (cabins), meeting room and cafeteria. After a few days of this (large group training) we will divide into sub-groups and go to live in a village. I will move in with my host family and there will be 5-6 other trainees from my group in the same village but living with their own host families. Some of my cohorts are nervous about meeting and living with their families. I’m more concerned about language at this point.

It rains a lot in Fiji. It’s very beautiful – lush, tropical – but here on the east side (where I will be for at least the next 7 weeks), it rains 80% of the time (even in the dry season, I’m told).  I’m already used to it. It’s a warm rain, off and on, and the sound of it at night lulls me into a deep and restful sleep.  It’s very humid but it cools down and night – even needed a blanket the past couple nights.

The food, so far, is pretty good. We’re spoiled here at the retreat center so who knows what village life will provide as far as food goes. Probably will depend on the host family. But I’m not picky and will try anything. Men tend to lose weight in the Peace Corps so I’m eating all I can (and they are feeding us every few hours!) before village life and diet takes its toll. Not to worry though – I’m looking forward to getting my flat stomach back, perhaps!

Lots of bugs and critters (again, think camping) and that will not change even when I move to the village. Probably just a fact of life now for the next 2 years. But the mosquitoes have not been biting me (unlike the ones in DC) and malaria is not an issue in Fiji.

Just before sunrise each day, we hear some drumming down the hill which I think signals the start of a new day. Sometimes it’s accompanied by singing – probably from the church. Yesterday, walking back from breakfast, we heard a squealing pig off in the near distance. Then, that evening, we had pork ribs and sausage for dinner. Ham again this morning.

Peace Corps provides tons of support in many ways (overkill on health and safety policies): water filters, mosquito nets, sunscreen (haven’t needed it yet – cloudy, raining most of time), bug repellent, etc, etc. After trying to pack light just to get here, they’ve loaded us up and weighted us down with 40 pounds of supplies and resources!

A few days later…

I’m in my training village now living with my host family: the husband and wife are retired phone company employees. Their youngest daughter is 21 and is studying accounting at the university – she lives here as well (their 3 other children are out of the house). One of the grandmothers lives here also. They all speak English pretty well so communication is not a huge issue and they can help me learn the Fijian. The kids in the village are fascinated by us and followed us around today while we were working on a community mapping exercise. It started out just 2-3 kids and grew as we traveled around the footpaths until we got back to the community hall where the tag-alongs numbered 15-20!

Fijian village life is rustic to say the least. We are lucky in this village. We have electricity 24/7. Water is collected from rain (good) and a stream source (not as good) into tanks that are shared by several houses each. All cold water (I prob won’t have a hot shower for many months to come) – not that it matters, it’s pretty hot and humid here all the time. Drinking water is filtered and safe and I’m drinking lots of it. So far, no incidents of illness from anyone in our group. It’s just a matter of time, of course, before I experience diarrhea or food illness but so far so good.

My host family is very nice. They are rather reserved which turns out is an advantage for me. Fijians don’t have the same ideas about privacy and independence that Americans do (very communal here) but my family seems to understand and respect my privacy, leaving me alone to read or study, encouraging me to rest (napping is part of the lifestyle in this heat – you know I love that!). They are feeding me SO MUCH FOOD. And it’s all pretty damn good! All things considered, I’m comfortable and healthy.

I have been here now not quite a week. Already, an amazing experience.  (Am I really living like this? Is this my life now?)  It’s both so much more and not at all what I imagined, it’s difficult to put into words and get it all written down. But I will continue to try and hopefully be in contact again soon.

Sota Tale (farewell greeting - means roughly “see you later” )

Please forward this around to anyone who might be interested in hearing how I’m doing. Michael, please print out and give to Mom and Dave.

Miss you all!

Love, Te  (Dave in Fijian)