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.
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