50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

 

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.




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.



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.”




Peace Corps Fiji Group 88 final group photo.
Peace out (aka Fiji pose)

Tropical Cyclone Evan

Looking at the forecast and the calendar, the end of 2012 for me should prove to be as eventful as the year that just was. A massive serious tropical cyclone is bearing down on Fiji just days before I head home for the holidays.

For my friends in the northern hemisphere: …and by “tropical cyclone” I mean hurricane.

For my friends in the southern hemisphere: …and by “home for the holidays” I mean stateside.

The storm is a monster! Tropical Cyclone Evan is brewing at the moment northeast of the Fiji group after doing some serious damage to Samoa as a category 1. Now churning its way toward us at a slow pace, Evan is expected to intensify into a category 4 – maybe even a 5 – during its passage between these island nations. The media outlets and the Fiji government, not to mention the Peace Corps, are urging us all to take this situation very seriously and prepare for the worst.

http://beforeitsnews.com/earthquakes/2012/12/tropical-cyclone-evan-leaves-samoa-heads-toward-fiji-and-vanuatu-2447268.html

But I’m gonna ratchet down the drama a bit and say, first of all, that I’m safe, well-prepared and ready come-what-may.

There’s good news in the forecast today. While earlier predictions a few days ago had the storm tracking with a direct hit to the main islands, recent forecasts have the storm staying more north of the group and then tracking down the westward outlying islands. I guess that’s not such great news for those idyllic tiny island chains that grace the postcards of many Fiji vacations. But most of the heavily populated areas of the main islands should be spared the full brunt of a landfall.

That being said, Evan’s a big dude and his winds and waters will be felt just about everywhere to some degree. Here on the western side of Viti Levu (where I am posted), we are expecting strong winds, heavy rain and some local flooding. We are hoping we do not experience a repeat of the floods that caused so much damage to this region in February and then again in late March. We’ve had our share of flooding this ol’ year.

http://crowflyzinfiji.blogspot.com/2012/04/i-recently-returned-to-fiji-aftertaking.html

The next couple days should be interesting and eventful… but hopefully not too much so. I’ll keep posting updates.... Stay tuned.

***********************

Evan is forecast to leave Fiji behind by late Tuesday. I’m scheduled to do the same on Thursday. After 18 months away from home, I’m heading back for a couple weeks to celebrate the holidays and ring in the new year with family and friends and food!

Evan, hopefully, will not return to Fiji. I will…. Stay tuned.

Time and Temperature

The neglected blog. A time honored Peace Corps tradition. Like diarrhea, dirty hair and skin conditions (scabies, boils, ringworm…). But I’m off-point. (already). Why so difficult to stay on track?

When it comes to Peace Corps service, many of the clichés we heard in training do apply: “expect the unexpected;” “get comfortable with being uncomfortable;” “flexibility is your friend.” Routines, such as they are, are often interrupted by mind-numbing hours of downtime. Which, of course, makes little sense. Many of these empty hours are simply filled with waiting – for meetings to start, for transportation to arrive, for action… any action, on something… anything. Our American sensibilities (habits, ambitions, time management devices) are severely tested in an environment that eschews clocks. Our need to be engaged, in motion, accomplished becomes a curious cultural defect in an island nation that values the casual drift of days and weeks and hours: Fiji Time.

Then how does a volunteer explain looking at a calendar and wondering where the last six month have gone. Not exactly in the blink of an eye, mind you. More of a slow and steady lowering and raising of the eyelids. Nonetheless, time has been swift. Even from this lazy perspective… and without the benefit of schedules, agendas and to-do lists. Come to think of it: are there benefits in such things? Why place such a high value on goals and objectives when they can so often serve to disappoint, humiliate, and depress us if we neglect to pay them proper attention.

I have no answers. Only more clichés: relax. live in the moment. no day is promised. life is good.

These thoughts occur in a haze on a hot and breezeless humid day as I lay in a hammock under a palm tree, sipping water from a fresh coconut, drifting in and out of a half-sleep. Or, maybe I dreamed the part about the hammock, palm tree and coconut. Yes, I’m awake now. almost. And I’m lying on the floor of my house in a glistening sweat (not the sexy kind) despite the cold shower I took less than an hour ago and the fan that I have directed to provide a constant flow of air in my vicinity. Hot sticky thick wind. It is 2 pm. Oh, whadaya know… there is a clock here. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to summer in Fiji. The hot wet season.

We were spoiled. For the past six months (the ones that just winked by), we’d been treated to an exceptionally pleasant cool dry season – winter, technically, down here in the south pacific. Fiji, un-technically, has two seasons: hot wet and cool dry. You’ll never hear a Fijian refer to an autumn or a spring. Even in the primary schools they teach in science class that Fiji has a winter and a summer. The winter of 2012 saw Fijians breaking out the wool socks and heavy parkas on an almost daily basis - evenings mostly.

I remember chuckling during my first few months in Fiji, when I was still in training, at my host family as they bundled up against a cool evening breeze. At that point in my Fiji existence I was still acclimating to the tropics with a 24/7 designed-to-cool-down steady sweat. I wondered if I would ever get to the point of needing even a light jacket or socks. How long would that take? Answer: about a year. Granted, even most Fijians concede this past winter to be a cooler-than-normal one. But they don’t say “cooler than normal.” They say “cold.” (Batabata in the native language).  These terms are of course relative.

Indeed, the paper reported one day in July that a temperature of 15 degrees had been recorded in the interior overnight - a record low. Of course, we’re talking Celsius.

Science and Math lesson - to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit use the following formula:

                                                °C x 1.8 + 32 = °F

So on that finger-numbing night in July:

                                                15° C x 1.8 + 32 = 59° F

Brrrrrrr….

Now you try one. The average low for a Fiji winter is 20° C. What would it be in Fahrenheit? (see answer below*). For you completists in the crowd, the average high for a Fiji winter is 26° C. Converted to Fahrenheit is ___ . (see answer below**).

Those comfy days and cool nights seem like a distance memory when they really weren’t all that long ago. Now it feels as if someone flipped a switch. No warning. No gradual build-up. All of a sudden, it’s 36° C and I’m drifting in and out consciousness lying in a pool of perspiration. The air is thick and still (“it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity…”).  I wonder how long it will be until I’m acclimated again.  Answer: I don’t know. I can’t think. I just know I need to get up and move and do something so I have something else to write about besides the weather.

An hour later and it’s down to 35° C. Final exam: how hot is that in °F? (see answer below***)

Unlit candles melting on a Fiji afternoon in October

*          68° F

**        79° F

***      F-ing Hot!

(answers rounded to the nearest whole temperature)

 

Flood

I recently returned to Fiji after taking an amazing trip to New Zealand. More on that in a later posting…

 

 

We escaped Fiji at just the right time. Our flight that day was one of the last ones out of Fiji for several days. A tropical storm was brewing in the South Pacific and heading right for the main island. It started blowing and pouring rain the night before our scheduled flight. On our ride to the airport that morning, we saw roads already flooded. The town of Nadi, near where the international airport is located, was reportedly underwater. The worst was yet to come.

 

 

After a 6 hour delay, we were cleared for takeoff and soon were flying up and out and above the storm toward the calmer winds and sunny skies of NZ. Over the next several days and throughout the next week of our vacation, we heard the news reports of what was happening back on the islands. The storm had been upgraded to a cyclone and was wreaking havoc on the western side of Viti Levu: the airport was shut down for several days; Nadi was severely flooded with store-front windows shattering from the pressure; washed out roads and collapsed bridges; power and water outages; homes underwater, people evacuated and homeless; Sigatoka town, near my village, also reported flooding from the rising river and the nearby creeks and streams that run throughout the valley region.

 

 

In the days that followed, we continued to hear reports about stranded travelers, flooded towns and villages, and the resulting cleanup and potential health issues. We continued our vacation without really knowing how bad the flood had been at our individual sites and what we might be going back to. We knew from the news that the appropriate government ministries, along with the Red Cross and other NGO’s, were mobilizing in response to the “crisis.” From some email communication with other volunteers back in Fiji, we could confirm what we had been hearing on the news: the western side of Viti Levu was battered and flooding was extensive.

 

 

My village, which is in this region, has never flooded and lies in a relatively well-protected valley. But I was aware that other villages in the area had a history of flooding and some of the access roads from town could be in poor condition. So, again, I didn’t really know what conditions I might be facing on returning to the village.

 

 

Almost 3 weeks after the storm initially hit, I returned to Fiji.

 

 

From the airport, I called my counterpart in the village to let him know I was back in country and heading home. He said the bridge along the access road into the village was “broken.” I asked how I would get back into the village and he said they would meet me at the bridge and show me the way across. I had hoped to get there before sundown but the timing of transportation didn’t work out that way and it was quite dark when I arrived at the top of the road that goes into my village.

 

 

The dirt road into the village slopes down about 75 meters before coming to a concrete bridge that crosses a small creek about 5-7 meters wide (in normal conditions). Two of my neighbors were waiting for me there with flashlights to show me the way. In the dark, I could not see the extent of the damage but from the path their lights were directing me toward I could sense that most of the road on either side of the bridge was washed out. We scooted down the embankment and crossed over the stream on a narrow wooden walkway that had been built. Another smaller version crossed a narrower section where the stream had split into two – a diversion of the water obviously created from the flood.

 

 

In the hours that followed, I learned of the events of the past 2 ½ weeks; and in the following morning, I was able to see for myself in the light of day the damage to the village and the surrounding area. My village had flooded for the first time in its history, they say. The stream had swelled and overrun its banks on that side of the village. Fortunately, only a few houses sit that close to the bank where they actually had water come into the house. My bure is about 30 meters or so from the stream and was untouched by the overflow. However, my kitchen facility, which lies about 10 meters from the stream, had about a foot of water, I’m told. It was all cleaned up by the time I returned but I could see the water line on the concrete structure.

 

 

After the initial flooding, which occurred during that first weekend that the storm hit, the rains continued for 2 weeks. Power was out for several days and water was out for 2 weeks! The water had just been restored on Monday (I returned on Wednesday). Our village gets its water from a municipal source that is piped into most households. In the absence of that (relatively safe) treated source, people rely on either rain catchment tanks (not too bad) or the stream (probably bad). Water from the stream should be boiled and filtered before use for drinking or cooking. I was thankful that I missed 2 weeks of poor water conditions. My experience here has taught me that if I had to choose between heat, electricity or water, I would choose water at the sacrifice of any other convenience.

 

 

I walked back down to the bridge so I could see the damage in daylight. The stream bed, which is normally about 10-15 meters wide, had been “recut” by the flood to 4 times that width. The road on either side of the concrete bridge was washed completely away leaving a 10 foot drop on either side. The bridge itself was leaning slightly. Debris (branches, stones, mud, some rubbish) littered the entire area. The men had built the small bridges across the stream – now back to its normal size – for pedestrians but there would be no vehicle access for a few days (until Public Works showed up with a bulldozer to clear a new path down either side of the embankment and across a shallow section of the stream so at least large vehicles (vans, trucks) could get through).

 

 

The rest of the village seems relatively untouched by the flood. Some of the families who had water come into their houses have been advised to relocate away from the stream. Most of the cleanup had been completed before I returned. One interesting positive result from the whole event is that the newly widened stream bed has uncovered some new sources of clay for the women to use in their pottery-making. I’m told that further upstream there are deposits in nice colors of brown, red and white.

Beyond the village, the aftermath from the floods can be seen all along the valley road back into town: mud slides resulting in narrowing sections of the road; potholes and crumbling edges in the road; debris throughout the area. The neighboring village was apparently underwater – although this is not unusual for them since they lie in a low area closer to the main river. Even the town experienced some storefront flooding from the swollen Sigatoka River and all along it there are deposits of mud and debris. Many are saying this is worse than the floods of 2006 – which were notoriously remembered throughout the region. Sounds like now we have a new benchmark.

Throughout the week since I’ve been back, the government and cooperating NGO’s are performing surveys and assessments, providing relief and services to damaged communities. Because of the extent of the interruption in water supplies, certain health concerns are being closely watched. Typhoid outbreaks can be common in situations like this but there have been none reported in my area. Many folks in my village seem to have eye infections – possibly from using stream water for bathing during the outage – but they are getting treated. The Red Cross has visited the village and supplied basic first aid kits and medical supplies. The District Office is reported to be supplying food in the upcoming weeks as many of the farms that were flooded had damaged and unrecoverable crops.

The damage and aftermath in my village seems manageable compared to other communities in the region. Everyone is safe and relatively healthy. While I feel sorry for what they had to endure during the storm and resulting floods, I feel lucky that my timing was such that I was out of the country for the whole thing. Fijians seem to have a knack for taking these conditions in stride. I’m not sure I would have fared as well had I been here to experience the full force of it.

One family in the neighboring village threw a tarp over the bus shed on the road and slept there for a few days until the water receded out of their home. This is a family consisting of a mother with two teenage daughters and their grandmother. No big deal.

 

 

Bridge on village access road before flood

After flood - road washed out on both sides

Notice how wide the stream bed is now - the water ran high and wide!

Press

A reporter from The Fiji Times spent an afternoon in our village a couple weeks back. He wanted to write a profile about the village and it's history of pottery making. He interviewed the women (and some men) in the village about their craft and how it contributes to the character of the village. Here is the resulting article:

http://www.fijitimes.com/story.aspx?ref=archive&id=196902
With accompanying video online:

http://www.fijitimes.com/story.aspx?id=196871

He also interviewed "Sonny," my counterpart in the village, about his role and the different projects he hopes to work on in the near future. (A PCV's "counterpart" is typically the main person in the village with whom we coordinate and liaise during our service). We thought it would be part of the broader profile but a few days after the  initial piece ran, Sonny got his own space:

http://www.fijitimes.com/story.aspx?id=197087

The reporter also interviewed a certain PCV (who happened to drop by the Pottery House late in the day after returning from town). I spoke to him briefly about Peace Corps and our work in the village. I thought maybe Peace Corps will get a mention in the village profile if it runs. A few days after Sonny's piece, this one ran:

http://www.fijitimes.com/story.aspx?id=197634

The village is thrilled with all this attention. I'm thrilled for them. And wish I had worn a nicer shirt!

Beach Break "Dua Tale"

Summer in Fiji: the hot wet season.

Also, Cyclone season. There has been plenty of activity in the South Pacific these past couple weeks. A series of tropical depressions have churned their way past these islands and although none of them have developed into a cyclone (the South Pacific version of a hurricane), their resulting cloud cover and rain has kept the sun from shining on us for two solid weeks. The village is muddy, the mosquitoes are rampant, the roof is leaky, the laundry is piling up and my tan is starting to fade. Oh No!

So I'm thinking back to the last day of real sunshine which coincided, fortunately, with the last day of summer break for the school children before they begin their new term. (Remember, Fiji school year is aligned with the calendar year so the new term begins in late January). On that day, I carried on what has become a tradition for me and the kids in my village: a beach picnic to mark the end of the break and enjoy one last hurrah before the school term resumes.

I can't claim to have started this tradition. The previous volunteer who had been in my village had once taken the kids on a picnic during his short tenure here. When I arrived last July and learned of this "event," which was mentioned incessantly during my first couple months, I was not be be outdone. At the end of the August break, off we went!

Recap here: http://crowflyzinfiji.blogspot.com/2011/09/school-break.html

So it was time for Beach Day Redux. It had been raining for a few days leading up to our beach day but we lucked out with an oasis day of sunshine in this gray season. Blue sky, hot sun, white sand, nice surf... great time.

My Village Family (well, a small sampling)



with some cheeky moms



Climb and Dive




this little guy spent the morning climbing all over me in the water



New Year Dawns

Fiji holds a place on the planet just west of the international dateline which makes it one of the first countries on the globe to welcome the new year.

Within one week of the start of 2012, I marked six months at site (coming up on eight months total in Fiji including training). There were many days, I must confess, that I wasn’t sure I’d make to the end of 2011 without throwing in the towel and hightailing it back to my old life. Many of the fellow volunteers who had arrived the year before advised us newbies to hang in there through the first six to nine months at site. They are notoriously the most challenging. I was told by more than a few that one day I’d wake up and realize I’d made it over "the hump." In my toughest moments, I couldn’t imagine that day was anytime soon.

But damn if they weren’t right! I can’t attribute the change to anything in particular. In fact, little has changed since just a month ago. The conditions are the same: same village, same people, same challenges of culture and language; same bure (Fijian hut) with frogs, mice, spiders, roaches and the occasional rat; same heat and humidity – actually hotter and stickier this time of year; same struggles with boredom and loneliness, and the frustrations of trying to get projects started and to motivate people used to living on “Fiji time;” same homesickness and missing my family and friends. But different state of mind.

Maybe I’ve relaxed more into village life. Maybe I’ve acclimated to the climate. Maybe I’ve embraced the culture more openly. Or maybe I’ve just become numb to the effects of it all. Maybe all of the above. In any case, this is a nice place to be as I start the new year and look down the road at the possibilities for 2012. This time last year I was only contemplating what this Peace Corps experience could be and was mostly occupied with the tremendous undertaking of packing up my old life and putting it on ice for two years. Looking back at the last six months of 2011, I shake my head and marvel at the all the things I’ve seen and done and felt. What will the next 12 months bring?

                                                hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Getting through the difficult days is probably easier when one is serving on a tropical island in the South Pacific. I wonder what Peace Corps Volunteers in, say, Africa do when they need to escape the struggles of service. I feel fortunate.

After a recent training, before returning to the village, I took a trip out to a tiny island just east of the main island. We launched from a landing just north of the capital city and rode almost an hour in a motor boat before arriving on a spit of an island that, on approaching, made me think, “my god, it’s Gilligan’s Ilse.”

The island solely contains one rustic little lodge with traditional style bures, a communal dining area (all meals provided), and simple shower and bathroom facilities. The entire perimeter of the island can be walked around in less than 15 minutes. I hopped in a kayak and paddled around the whole thing (easily done in high tide) in about 30 minutes. The snorkeling is fantastic! Fiji is famous for its coral reefs. The one just off this island was like sticking your head in an aquarium. I saw Nemo and many of his friends and relatives.

There is another similar island with another similar resort (even more rustic I’m told) quite near this one. On the second day, my fellow volunteer and I kayaked over to that island – took about one hour – beached our kayaks and hopped into the water for some more snorkeling. We had been told that it was even more spectacular than where we were staying. And it was! The coral formations were huge: floating above them was like flying over a city skyline of beautiful color and design. We could have stayed out there all day. But alas, the horizon was darkening with clouds and we needed to row back to our own little islet before the approaching storm arrived.

We paddled back and spent the evening sipping wine and watching the sunset. Before the rain took over the sky, we watched it turn from colors of blue and purple to blood red and orange.

                                                hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

So yes. Peace Corps can be extremely difficult amidst its many rewards. But really, don’t feel sorry for me.

Halloween

Fiji does not celebrate Halloween. I haven’t discovered any particular reason why.  The origins of Halloween go back over 1000 years to the Celts (and beyond if you’re willing to dig further into history) and is a time honored tradition in the Americas and Europe. Despite the UK and European influences of having been a British colony – not to mention nearby Australia – the spooky holiday has not found its way to the South Pacific. At least, not here in Fiji. Maybe other island countries in the region observe the day (note to self to look that up sometime).

I described the tradition (American style) to the mothers in my village and asked them if it was something they thought might be a fun activity to introduce to the kids. They got excited. I explained that in the U.S., children (among others) get dressed up in costumes and go door-to-door begging for candy. Well, maybe not quite in those terms. I told them about “trick or treat” and how the story goes that if a house does not provide a treat, a trick may be played on them. I said that most houses comply with the tradition and offer treats. I left out the stories of toilet papered trees and flaming bags of poop. Let’s start with a clean celebration – we can build on the concept next year.

I made this suggestion prior to leaving the village for a few weeks of additional training on the other side of the island. I suspected that the idea may be forgotten by the time I returned as is the case with many ideas when one lives on island time. But when I returned in mid-October, I was pleasantly surprised to be reminded by some moms about the upcoming event. Apparently, some of them had seen a movie recently that had a scene that depicted Halloween and, in particular, trick or treating.  They were on board: “What program are you planning, Tevita?” Uh oh, time to deliver. Me and my big mouth.

We gathered the children on a Sunday afternoon and I explained the concept to them: getting dressed up in costumes, trick or treating, bags of candy. Another easy sell.  I felt a bit apprehensive in promoting an activity that resulted in more sugar consumption which is a big problem in Fiji. Diabetes is the number 1 non-communicable disease and dental care is poor, to say the least. (I have met few adults in the village with a full set of teeth and many children show tooth decay even in their starter teeth.) I suggested that we provide healthy snacks at some houses along with the “lollies” – Fiji’s standard term for candy.

Another volunteer, who is working with the Ministry of Health, had, several months ago, supplied me with a bag full of toothbrushes and some educational pamphlets on early dental care and tooth-decay prevention. He was involved in pushing this info out to the village level. I felt armed with a respectable “program.”

I told the kids to think about their favorite movie or cartoon characters and work with their moms on putting their costumes together from whatever resources we had around the village. I explained that we didn’t need money to buy fancy pre-made costumes and that this was a chance to be creative. This was a concept they understood implicitly (I probably embarrassed myself even suggesting otherwise) as Fijians are extremely resourceful. I also suggested that they didn’t have to go as characters but could explore being other “things.” I described how I once went to a party with two other friends dressed as a knife, fork and spoon. They are still talking about that one – “Te, were you the fork or the spoon?”

The day arrived.  Despite the chatter on the subject over the previous weeks, I still had my doubts about what would happen. In the Fiji village, many things are talked about and conceived and never realized – or, if so, rarely on time. This felt like a one-shot chance. If it didn’t happen on October 31, I’d have felt that the moment had passed and the opportunity lost. Such is my American sensibility. Add to that: a volleyball net had recently been installed in the village and everyone is obsessed! Playing begins around 4 or 5 and continues until dark (at this time of year dusk arrives at 7:30 PM). Yes folks, that’s 3 or more hours of volleyball every day – except Sunday of course.  The kids usually start the playing after school but by 6 or so, the adults have taken over completely and play until they can’t see the ball.

My plan was to have the kids get in their costumes after school and have the trick or treating before dark, followed by a costume parade and prizes. I had gone to town earlier in the day to buy the snacks and candy to give to the moms. I had assumed that I would supply the houses with “treats.” It’s a small village so I wouldn’t have to spend much money.

The kids usually arrive back from school around 4. By 5, volleyball was in full swing. Although I saw one mom working on a costume for her son outside the Pottery House around this time, most of the kids, not to mention most of their moms, were occupied with the game. Hmmmm, this isn’t going to come together, I thought. Well, maybe I’ll get a couple kids showing up and I can at least give them some treats – and a toothbrush.

Dusk arrived. The game continued for a bit then folks disbursed. Darkness fell.

I went to the Pottery House (the defacto  Community Hall / gathering place for my village) to see if anyone would show. One mom was there with her son – dressed as a little Indian girl with a cardboard box over his head. The box had a hole in the front like a screen. I interpreted this costume as representing some sort of entertainment personality on T.V. Bollywood is BIG is Fiji.

I had my bags of treats and when she saw them, the mom said, “Te, what is all that? The mothers have prepared treats for each of their houses.  We have the divided the houses into three groups and we’ll split the kids up into age groups and assign them which houses to visit.” I’m looking around thinking “what kids?”

Then, they started to arrive. A trickle here and there at first and suddenly the place was full of kids of all ages in costume! We had a Superman, a Fijian bride and groom, an Indian bride and groom, an old women, a fairy, a gypsy (perhaps), among others. One boy wore a mask of a man’s face (don’t know who the man was, if anyone specific). Three boys simply cut holes in large cardboard boxes and wore those. They were my favorite, actually. I called them the “box-boys.”

I was thrilled. Not only did they show up, they delivered! Not just the kids, the moms too. Seems silly now, but I wasn’t sure they would get it. It’s difficult sometimes crossing cultures with even the simplest concept and I’m ashamed I had my doubts (after all, who doesn’t understand dressing up in costumes).

With the place full of kids, and the moms standing ready at their houses, we began the “program.” I started by talking a bit about the history of Halloween and the American tradition which we were emulating. Borrrrrrrring. These kids couldn’t sit still and who needs a freaking lecture now. “Let’s go trick or treating!”  The kids were divided into their groups and assigned 5 houses each to visit. Out into the darkness we went. I accompanied the older group to the houses at the far end of the village (my village is basically a square of 15 houses or so) .Usually, in a Fijian village, doors generally stand open unless people are sleeping.  But tonight, they were closed. One house at a time, the kids knocked and when the door was answered they yelled “trick or treat.”  (I had to remind them at the first house or two until they mastered this part). Treats were dropped in the bags… and on to the next house.

Of course, it didn’t take long to hit all the assigned houses and then it was back to the Pottery House for the “party.” By this time, the young men and dads in the village were hanging around outside the Pottery House looking in the windows and gawking at the spectacle. Everyone was getting a kick out of the whole affair.  Next year, I told the kids, grown-ups must get in costume also. They chuckled dismissively but I could see some imaginations churning with possibilities.

The moms had taken the extra supply of snacks and candy that I had brought and made small piles of them as prizes for the best costumes. Everyone got a prize! I took this opportunity to say that treats and sweets are always nice but it’s important to brush that sugar off your teeth afterwards. Then I gave each kid a toothbrush and each mom a pamphlet. So what should we do after every meal and especially after sweet snacks, I asked. “Brush your teeth!” they shouted.

The celebration continued with lots of posing and picture taking – and indulging in the treats. As it was late, the party came to a swift end as folks headed in for the night. I was invited to a late supper at one of the mom’s houses. Her 2 year old (the one in the T.V. costume) didn’t want to take it off. He became a bit whiney at his mother’s insistence that he change out of the costume. He kept repeating some question that I could not understand. What’s he asking, I said. He’s asking, “are they going to do it again tomorrow?” His mom replied to him, “Io.” (Yes in Fijian). I said, more quietly, in English, “next year.” She nodded.

School Break

Fiji schools run on a calendar year with three terms separated by 2 week breaks. The winter break came at the end of August. Since I had been running the Homework Camp, albeit sporadically because the children often are not assigned homework, one of the women in the village suggested that I continue working with the kids on their break. Perhaps a math camp. I didn’t want to push anything academic while the kids were on break but rather plan activities that were more like a summer camp: fun and games.

One day, I lead a “boot camp” style exercise class where we organized “circuit stations” of the basic old-fashioned calisthenics: jumping jacks, windwmills, pushups, etc. I had kids from ages 2-15 and it was a hoot watching them run from station to station as fast and furious as they could to perform each exercise as if they were in a race against each other or time. No such rules had been established, however. There was lots of screaming and laughing. Not sure this is what the moms had in mind but it was fun.

Other days, we ran obstacle course type races or other competitive games. One day, the boys taught me how to play rugby. Granted, it was touch rugby and I thought I was doing OK but after a short break, the boys said, “now Tevita, you sit here on this log and watch the next game.” Maybe I wasn’t doing as well as I thought. But after a few minutes I realized they sat me out because they wanted to play real rugby – full-on tackle – and were obviously protecting me.  A few days later, we played soccer – or football as they call it in most places outside the U.S. – and I scored the winning goal for my team. Looking back, it seemed too easy and I wonder did they let me get a clear shot…

Fijian kids, especially the boys, are very athletic and play rugby or soccer just about every day after school. There are no video games in my Fiji village and life is lived mostly outdoors. Kids play outside every day, even in the rain, just running around doing who knows what but usually there is a ball involved. Girls play hopscotch quite often, cutting the pattern out in the dirt with a rock much like we did as kids drawing it on the blacktop road with a white stone. Some days, I look around and think this could be Cedarcroft Road in the 1970’s (where/when I grew up).

One morning, as we stood around waiting for more kids to gather so we could organize an activity, one boy came walking out from behind a house with a mongoose on a leash! The creature had gotten a vine of some sort tangled in its tail and the boy had gotten hold of it. Obviously, it was trying to get loose and run away but it looked as if the boy was walking the thing like a dog. The other kids taunted the poor creature by throwing rocks and sticks at it and alternately approaching it and jumping back as it hissed at them.  I told them this “game” was not wise and we should let him go.

Suddenly, the mongoose got free of the vine and ran to the shelter of the nearest tree which had a wide shallow hole near its base – an indention in the truck. So while it tried to hide in there, I’m afraid it felt just as trapped with all the kids standing around waiting to see its next move. Some continued to throw sticks and rocks despite my protest and warnings. I kept a safe distance. One of the older boys tried to coax it out with prods from a stick. The thing hunkered down further and hissed. Out of nowhere, one of the village dogs came running up and, seeing his opportunity in the cornered mongoose, reached in and chomped the thing in his jaws and then shook it violently.  The ordeal thus ended – not well for the poor mongoose.

The dog dropped the dead mongoose and moved on as quickly as it had come and one of the boys picked up the carcass with a scarf and taunted the younger kids with it – many of whom had been earlier tossing rocks and sticks at the live creature. Turn about is fair play? Most of the kids squealed and ran, a few of the younger ones cried. With some effort, I finally got the whole scene to shift toward playing a game of volleyball. The dead mongoose was tossed into the stream.

On the last day of the break, I took the kids on a picnic to the beach. This has to go down as one of the most fun days I’ve had here so far. Despite living so close to the coast, people in my village don’t go to the beach. In general, even for villages that are right on the beach, Fijian people use the ocean for fishing and other practical purposes.  Spending a day at the beach in recreation is a novelty – something for tourists (and Peace Corp Volunteers  ;)  The kids packed their lunches, a van was arranged and off we went. Watching them on this beach was pure joy: they jumped and screamed in the waves, played “Jaws”, buried each other (and me) in the sand…

At one point, a large log of driftwood made its way toward shore with the incoming tide and when it came within reach, the kids used it as a raft to ride the waves in until it beached. Then, as a team, they rolled the big thing up past the surf and took turns posing on it for pictures. Despite my sunburn (especially my head), this was an ideal Fiji day and there has been much talk about doing it again at the next break in December.

Living in Paradise

Apparently, August was wicked month for my people back home:

• The debt ceiling battle caused more economic stress (the details of which I am not really privy since my consumption of news from the states is rare and scant). I guess I'm not retiring anytime soon and may have to work till I'm dead since what little investment I have is apparently shrinking (again). Then again, I'm a 46 year old volunteer living in a rural village in Fiji... building wealth has not been a huge priority. I think I'll relax and head for the beach
• A rare earthquake hit the mid-Atlantic region. Again, I've gotten few details but apparently it shook the ground from DC to Baltimore. Could it be that the sleepy fault line down the eat coast is stirring? I currently live within or quite near the infamous Pacific Ring if Fire and the only tremors I've felt are when the rcikety old buses rumbled over the bridge near my host family's house.
• A giant hurricane has swirled it's way up the east coast threatening the big cities and causing evacuations. Haven't gotten an update on this one yet... Hope everyone is safe and well. Here in the South Pacific our hurricanes are called cyclones and the season for these storms is Nov-April (the opposite of the Atlantic hurricane season). Right now, we are in our dry season (winter). Although the sun can get hot and some days are steamy, it is relatively cool (especially in my region) with chilly nights.

My month:

• Visited the Sand Dunes, Fiji's first National Park, and hiked up a giant dune that overlooked the Pacific. Tried to "ski" down the sand slope by taking huge jumps down it's steep side and slidding in our sandals.
• Spent a weekend at one of the many resorts that dot the coastline on the south side of this island. Took a sea kayak out in the morning, swam within the coral reef, napped in a hammock under the palm trees.
• Traveled to the capital city for the annual Hibiscus Festival (carnival food and rides!) and marched with the Peace Corps in the Hibiscus Parade.
• Hiked through a hilly rain forest to waterfalls and pools.

So, apparently, it's safer here (certainly more pleasant) in Fiji right now than it is back at home. I think I'll stay a while. Come join me!