diwali pictures

Some Diwali pictures... Satish is getting the "dhir" ready to light, Sat and his wife in their yard, their light display (lights on the ground), a house lit up, and Sat's daughters, Keondra, and myself at the end of the night.

Diwali

Today is/was Diwali, or, the Festival of Lights. I'm spending the day with one of the Peace Corps staff members and his family. It has been an extremely eventful, fun, and educational day for me. Diwali is a traditional festival where you pray for good luck and prosperity, eat a lot, visit family and friends, and of course set up a lot of lights around your house. It has been amazing experience seeing all the houses decorated with (Christmas) lights, candles, and all these creative ways of lighting up. I've eaten so many delicious Indian sweets and candies and fried things, plus a lot of puri, palau, roti, curry, and many other wonderful, delectable, spicy, delicious Indian dishes. Yuuuumm. The weight I lost in the village was just put back on today alone. The oldest daughter and I visited some other houses in the neighborhood and at every house you eat. We dressed up in sarees and kamees and all these pretty, sparkly, lacy, sheek outfits. I'll try to post pictures tomorrow. There are firecrackers that go off from all directions all over the settlement. Literally, I walked under and stood under these fireworks that in American I think we have laws against standing so close to. The best way I can liken Diwali is to that of Christmas in AMerica. Throughout the past week or two there have been major sales at every shopping center (given that Indo-Fijians own about 80-90% of all businesses in Fiji, they go all out on Diwali sales), lights adorn all these houses- the brighter the better, you spend all day decorating and cooking all these special food, and then you share the day with those you love gorging yourself and talking. I was told that traditionally whatever you did on Diwali is how the rest of your year will go; so if your a shop owner and you give a lot of credit, that's how your year will be: always giving credit. If you don't shower, don't spend money, etc etc, that's how your year will go.

One thing that really struck me was seeing the sexual politics of the Indo-Fijian community, something I've had very little experience with until now. At one of the houses, we had to move inside the house because men were coming over to visit and we as women couldn't be seen sitting outside with her uncle. The women, especially the daughters, have enormous responsibility in cooking, cleaning, and entertaining guests; far more so I think than in the village.

More to come... but all in all, a really good way to spend the holiday and to get out of Suva!

Moving

So, I suppose I should update everyone on my status. Peace Corps has decided to move me from my village due to some safety and security concerns. I'm hanging out in Suva City until they can find me another village. It was really sad and really frustrating, but there's not much I can do about it so I'll keep on keeping on. In the meantime, I have a lot of time to regroup, enjoy Suva and the company of other PCVs, and catch up on pop culture. That means I'm almost done reading "Midnight's Children," watched Ironman and Definitely, Maybe (Definitely can't stand Abigail Breslin, definitely love Ryan Reynolds, definitely love when Madison plays a part in movies!), and went to see Body of Lies yesterday. It was good and brought me back to reality a little bit; it's only been a few months but I feel so distanced from things like terrorism, torture, and the war in Iraq because even though they do influence my life and I read about them occassionally in Newsweek, my day to day thought process is rooted in Fiji. I thought I didn't like Suva but this morning walking in to our office I got a really good view of the harbor, the ocean, and the mountains in the distance. It's really pretty here; there's so much greenery still in the residential areas. But still, this is such an interesting time for Fiji. I was talking to a woman who is originally from France who has been here for 16 years about the changes she's seen. She's lived in a village, married a Fijian villager, and is now living in Suva. She put a lot of emphasis on the changes brought by television about that same time. But what else happened not yet 16 years ago? A little thing called NAFTA which probably (I have no evidence for this, just correlation and causation) brought TVs- and everything else Fijians deem necessary to life. This woman argues that before TV there were burglaries, no gangs, and a lot of the violence issues were brought out by television. And where else do people find out about stoves or stereos or phones and all these other "modernities"? You can see the struggle of balancing Western culture with a place like Fiji. You have unfinished billboard signs, grocery stores stocking individually packaged overly processed extra sugary, extra transfatty goods, bills owned for appliances, washing machines, rusty old cars, and a political system wrestling with its own identity. I digress...

My address is once again...
Taylar Foster, PCV
Peace Corps Fiji
Private Mail Bag
Suva, Fiji Islands

And if you try sending things but they get sent back to you, try, try again! That's happened to me and to other volunteers. You probably have the address right!

While I'm still not over my first village, it will always have a special place in my heart, I'll now be able to start over, coming into a village understanding village life, knowing how to speak Fijian, and be more prepared for delving into work to be done. We have to stay optimistic, right?

The Beast

I'm spending some time in Suva and today I did a little exploring. By exploring I mean I read my way around the Western eating establishments, visited the library, and checked out the USP campus. First, the most un-lively- USP (University of South Pacific). It's a really pretty campus. USP is spread throughout 11 (?) different Pacific Island countries, a very cool idea. You can move around through the different campuses. There's a lot of greenery at this one and a nice bookstore where you can find some trade paperbacks for $8.50 or anything else worth reading starting from $26. Yup, Jennifer Weiner goes for roughly $29 here in Fiji and don't even get me started on the classics!
I then hit up the Suva City Public Library, which just celebrated its 100 year anniversary. It was started by Andrew Carnegie. Of the roughly 220 books, I'd say maybe 80% of them were published before 1970. That said, there are still some gems to be found. however, a library card costs $20. You're able to check out up to 4 books during any 2-week period and I would get 50% of the library fee back after my two years. Hmm...
I ended the afternoon at a cafe called Bad Dog, as American as you can get. Lo and behold, what American beer special did I find? None other than bottles of Miller Genuine Draft ($7, or happy hour price of $3.50) and cans of our very own, very dear, very high quality Milwaukee's Best ($2.50/HH or $5 regularly. Given the exchange rate, it's probably about US$3 so all in all not a bad deal). I was ecstatic, and still am. But I had already paid for my draught beer so I'll save that thrill for the next time.
Ch-ch-changes to come, I'll fill in later but I'm going to go grab that Beast.

Nature scenes... we have a picture of the school, my favorite footpath framed between flowers and coconut trees, the river, and steps from one path leading to/from the river. Across the river is where a lot of farmland is. It's relatively flat for a ways and cows graze everywhere. This is where our youth farming project is and where I cut firewood. If you keep going, it leads up into the mountains where there's more farming, especially yaqona (you can see them in the distance).

Here's the e-mail I sent today, which I thought I'd post here.

Hello hello all! I thought I'd send a little note letting you know I'm alive and well and kicking it in Fiji. I'm inland so no white sandy beaches for me and rain almost every day. Althought I'm told the rainy season is going to end very very soon, which I'm most excited about. It also means that it still does get cold at night (seriously!) and can get really hot during the day. I work on different farms most days and have my own garden that's blooming. However, I found out this week that all my stuff is planted too close together so my crops won't be as big as they would be otherwise. I am growing cucumbers, Chinese cabbage (bok choy), carrots, long beans, French beans, capsicum (peppers), pumpkin (I think... the seeds have yet to sprout), eggplant, and bele, a Fijian leafy green.

We have a lot of events in my village and almost everyday I help the women prepare meals, big feasts where anyone and everyone can eat and everyone brings something. The people are wonderful, very helpful and generous. Everyone has pitched in to bring me something, build something for me, take me somewhere, and of course feed me. They keep me well fed on cassava, taro, taro leaves, and tilapia. Fijians are very happy, lovable, laughable people. They take time relax ("Davo!" is what I hear most commonly, meanly lay down and rest. It's more encouraged to lay down when you are at someone's house than it is to sit up. It took me awhile to get used to it, but now I love it. I don't feel bad falling asleep whereever I am, either!) during the day and at night. Every night there's a grog party somewhere, which can be a little much sometimes but other times it's a great social activity and where decisions really get made. Everyone is willing to pitch in to help out their neighbors, who are probably family in some way. Every familial relationship is important, from aunties to cousins to whatever your kinship.

For example, there was a funeral in the village last weekend. The village literally stopped for three days. Cassava was harvested, groups of boys slaughtered cows and pigs, and everyone helps bring food and mourning items for the family. The neighbors of the deceased (who again were related) held the camp where all the meals were eaten. Whoever showed up when it was time to eat was given a dish. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, morning and afternoon tea were all cooked for three days. Each matagali (your "clan") paid their respects to the family bringing mats, dalo, pigs, fabrics, and grog. It's a very public grieving. There's a church service and burial followed by eating and grog, much like American funerals (without the "dirty water"- yaqona). There are ten days of morning and then after 50 days there's another celebration and mourning officially ends after 100 nights. During this time, close men in the family don't cut their hair or shave their facial hair. Normally, thick facial hair is taboo in the village. Visitors who come to the funeral are each sent home with part of the cow or pig in return for what they brought.

Another example, my kitchen. I have a kitchen! It's made out of bamboo and has an open fire stove. Yup, I'm learning how to cook over an open fire. I have to cut my own firewood and then carry it tied to my back across the river. I'll take a picture next time because it's quite the site! I haven't really gotten the hang of starting and keeping the fire going, but all in time. It took a few weeks to actually complete and dozens of different men helped. I'll take pictures of that, too. Unfortunately I only have a few pictures of the building process.

Tuesdays are village work days. This week on Monday and Tuesday the men built another footpath. The women cooked the meals and tea. Jolly old time I daresay. Everyone brought his own bowl and chili and the women served up giant pots (GIANT) of dalo leaves (rourou) and sui, the bones of the cow.

I'm starting to work with the school and this week was working on organizing the library. Here's a plea: they need books!!! Books and any kidn of materials/ supplies for kids (crayons, pencils, paper, scissors, puzzles). There's no money available, due to foreign aid being cut off due to the interim government from the 2006 coup. Any help you might be able to offer would be very greatly appreciated. My mother is currently working on a book collection effort, which the teachers at the school are thrilled about. If you want to help or donate some books, please see her!

My life is so totally different in N. than it ever was in the States I can't really explain the magnitude of what I'm learning. I could do a whole women's and gender studies dissertation on co-ed volleyball, for example. One of the things I feel most proud about already accomplishing is the inclusion of volleyball into N. Day activities. If no volleyball, the girls/women would not have had an activity while all the boys/men played rugby. Now we play volleyball every day, except SUnday of course which is taboo. From 4- 6 pm, after you get back from the bush, there are sports. Rugby for the boys and now volleyball for the boys and girls. It's a lot of fun, honestly. Except that they're quick to cover me which means I rarely get to attempt to hit the ball. Needless to say, my arms are bruised all over from what I have done! It's a good way for me to get to know people, too. And ages in Fiji are all mixed together. Of course the elders are held to a higher esteem but it's perfectly reasonable to see 17- 40 year olds hanging out, be it playing sports or drinking grog or telling stories.

Here's a quick list of some of my injuries/ ailments: ringworm, four spots on both my hands burned from soybean oil and other cooking incidents, a gash on my right big toe, a cut on my right foot, sore thighs and shoulders from volleyball and gardening, three scars on my left shin from the bush, cuts on both my ring fingers from bamboo (it's sharp!), and plenty of other knicks, gashes, and bruises. They heal pretty quickly, all things considered. There have been some other ailments but we'll save those for the story telling after my two years. :)

All in all it's fun so far. Every day is work for me, I don't really get time off. I'm learning sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sooooo soooooooo much and ultimately I think that's what this whole experience will be: me learning and bringing back what I've learned. And of course dispelling myths that all Americans are wealthy, employed, and have guns. Telling people we're not all farmers either and we have to buy our food... and that we don't have fires or grog and we keep doors closed on our houses and you can't just show up at someone's house and expect a meal... these are the interesting tidbits I'm proud to share. And that we do in fact have rivers in our country but no, we don't have bananas or pineapples or mangos or papayas or guavas or dalo or cassava or rourou growing in our country. But what, then, do you eat?

I hope this finds you all well. Sorry I can't really send each person a personalized note. I've gotten a little lax on my letter writing as well. I thought I'd have a lot of time to sit around and not do anything but it turns out there's always something to do in the village or someone to talk with and there's always a grog party. So... for the sake of integration, you'll have to settle for a mass produced e-mail. Vosoti au. Did I mention I go to church 1, 2, sometimes 3 times a week? Believe it. Those pigs have made it to outer space, Kelsey. I kid you not.

rainforest adventure

I added comments to previous posts!

I decided to try my hand at fiction, since this doesn't really feel like my real life.


It could have been a scene from Survivor or from a Discovery Channel reality show: the little white American girl trudging through the rainforest, Birkenstock clad wearing 80's fit second-secondhand clothes, muddy and sweaty and sunburn creeping through her tanned white skin, ponytail covered by her skirt swooped into a scarf. The walk there was unexpected, starting out with a nicely kept gravel road and well traveled trail. The two-day adventure ended with a walk back, every inch of her body just waiting to be on solid flat ground. The trail fades in and out. She slides muddy step to muddy step, climbing and falling, thinking “Keep going, don't stop.” There's no time to look at the scenery, nowhere to look but down. A thorny branch scrapes across her neck, her gumboot catches on a tree root. In the forest it's cool and damp, wet earthy mud surrounded by deep chocolatey browns and dirty browns, down and at eye level; above linger top story trees and greenery. This is work. For her companions, it's everyday life, part of the necessity of living inland of a tropical climate. Soon the trail through the forest ends and opens into a clearing. Along a river lies the clearing, rocks and sand. The site of the lunch, the relaxation point, the almost end of a hard day's work. The women cook over an open fire, built on sturdy logs replaced the next day, balancing on rocks. A giant pot, salt, and bowls are the only objects brought from home; everything else used is found in the bush. The cooked cassava is spread onto banana leaves, a giant mound of starch. They pick the dalo leaves, bathe, cut firewood, cook. Soon the men trickle in. There's a flurry of bowls being passed around, containers used and reused, filled and emptied with dalo leaves. Nei Seta caught prawns from a pond downstream and they eat them fried in the fire, with chilies and salt. The crunch is fresh and smoky; a real delicacy. There's a lull as the men and boys chow down which soon crescendos to boisterous cackles and giggles, chattering and joking. Fijians are happy people who love laughing, even as exhaustion looms and the stench of sweat and hard work overpowers the forest smells. Cigarettes are lit, clothes are rinsed in the river and laid out to dry, men sprawl and stretch, napping with a rock as a pillow. Somewhere one of the boys hacks away a tree. The work these days are clearing forest for cows. And suddenly, they hear the hooves grumbling through the brush. They whoop and holler, jump up as the girl sits on her rock unaware of the commotion. Rate grabs her arm and pulls her up as the wild bull charges through the clearing, confusedly barreling through the river followed closely by the 20 year olds with their machetes ready as they strike three blows to its neck and down it goes, a massive lump crumbling to the ground, red blood dripping from its neck. They breath a collective sigh of relief and resume their talanoa (telling stories). The girl is shaken as they laugh about her reluctance to move. The cows here are wild, compared to her like the wild pigs, free range and unaccustomed to human activity for far too long. Their goal is to reign in the animals for farming. Until then, the cows are wild and beastly striking fear into the people working to avoid them. Later, they are hurry through the hills as they tread closely to where another one is traveling. They take the girl to where a creek meets the river, a cold opening of fresh, drinkable water, crisp and soothing out of the hot sun. The divvying up of the bull begins; its place of death becomes its burial site as each part is quickly dismembered, each organ cleaned and opened. Sacks are filled, baskets made from coconut fronds to carry it back. Then it's time for the women to head back. They go a different route, a flatter, less muddy way. One, two, five streams and rivers forged. Grasses knee-high through fields with coconut trees and hardwoods with bright orange flowers leading out of the thicket of rainforest. Four Fijian women and her, the slowpoke of the group, pushing to keep pace with her leaders as they lift her up single handedly where the step has eroded away from mud. Over downed trees, under bamboo arches, through barbed wire downed and still intact, across muddy trails and atop ridges of hills, lunging vine to vine, tree to tree to keep steady.

When they reach their destination, the landowner's house in a neighboring village, they are instantly welcomed in by another nei (aunty) and her family. Soon the men come in, carrying the sacks of meat. Some come wearing the legs and thighs, the flesh cut from the skin and fashioned into a sort of backpack. Food hygiene laws don't exist in Fiji. The sacks are emptied and more slaughtering commences. Everyone moves in tandem, knowing exactly what to do and how to do it. Pots come out to start bowling water and cassava, knives are flourished, the women start cubing the meat while the men finish the butchering. It's a jovial nature, still, renewed by the prospect of eating the fresh meat. They fry some of it in the fire- throw chunks into the burning flames- and eat with salt, chili, and moli (citrus) while the rest is divided into meals. The girl, usually shy to join in, takes up a knife and joins the women. They kid with her to try to the meat, and after not eating red meat for ¼ of her life, she dives in and tries it. It's a day of new beginnings. It's only too soon that the women must leave. The men will stay back to head early into the field the next day. Day two the women go back to cook breakfast for the men- dalo leaves and the beef- before they make their way to the clearing to start the lunch. This time she's not so shy, taking a seat to dish out the cassava. They joke with her, teasing and laughing about her inability to maneuver through the rainforest. They revive yesterday's conversation about how best to get her out of the forest. One way is shorter, one way is less muddy, one way is flatter. Her feet, you see, are those of a European city girl. They're like a baby; small and soft and relearning how to walk in mud. Today she isn't wearing her gumboots, a change in plans made the women change into their host's clothes and this journey is done mostly barefoot. Her best investments in clothing/footwear: a pair of Birkenstock sandals bought for 30 lira eight years ago and a pair of Old Navy flip flops, courtesy of her sister.

The women hurry to their home village to prepare tea for the men. Everything's a group effort, everyone pitches in something: flour for the bubakau, sugar, tea, mugs, soybean oil. That night, the two days end with a grog session for those not too weary to partake. Our heroine is nestled between an elder and an almost elder, still a youth because he's not yet married. She jokes and jostles with the boys as they relive the days events and can be comfortable with one another. They've become her big brothers, her fathers, uncles.

“If my family could only see me now,” she thinks, more than once those two days. “They'll never believe me.” Her agility surprised her, her improvement over the two days strengthened, her feet toughened, and the scrapes, scratches, nicks, and gashes told the stories of the adventures for days to come, and will continue to provide the impetus for future talanoa. Trip to the bush after trip to the bush, she's becoming a “Kai Viti,” one “Vaka malua!” (slowly) at a time.

Other things that have been going on...
One of the things I'm struggling with is not only the fact that in the village setting everyone's business is public business but what do you do when you have issues with peoples' private lives? I am not one to judge how people live their lives, but when I found out someone I liked and respected hit his wife or when someone else I really looked up to literally was beating his son with a belt or a stick as the kid is screaming and yelling and running out of the house crying during the middle of the afternoon, it changes my opinion of the person. And yet the same night, I find myself drinking grog with them. I have a hard time rationalizing these things.

Despite this, Fijians are some of the happiest people you'll ever meet. They love laughing and veiwali (joking) and don't hold anything against you for too long.

Familial relationships are super important in Fiji. For example, here are some lists of my families: (fathers) Tata lailai lewe vico, tata lailai Gram/Alupate, tata lailai, (mothers) Nana lailai Anali, Nana lailai, Na Queenie, Na Ula, Nana Tuvou, Na Vini, Na Sala (Buila), Na Sala, Nana Sieta, Nana Vasemaca, (aunties) Nei, Nei Paulina, Nei, Nei Seta, Nei Meri, Nei Tirisi, (uncles) Momo, Momo Saramia, Momo Semi, Momo Ratu Viliami, Momo Viliami, Momo Mala, Momo Philip, Momo Bici, Momo Isoa. There are more, too, in addition to numerous “tavale” (cousins), brothers, and sisters.

My best clothing investment so far: a $15 pair of gumboots! Move over, Chacos.
My biggest food craving so far: This might sound contradictory to all my social, ethical, and food systems belief, but a 3 cheese quesadilla from Taco Bell one late night after a grog party was something I would have gone great, great distances for. Cheesy, spicy goodness... hmmmmm. The hunger pain was unbelievably ridiculous and could not be satisfied by anything in my cupboards, like peanut butter, which I eat literally every day.

One political note: I was unbelievably excited and energized and surprised and floored that the House voted down the bill to bail out Wall Street!!! Yay! They're finally doing something really smart for everybody else besides Big Business! And then today, I see that the Senate is going to vote for it. WTF? The US is one of the only countries that has its government and stocks/bonds privatized but publicly supported. It is not teh responsibility of the government to bail out private businesses. Dave Obey was quoted in both of Fiji's newspapers, but I didn't quite get what "side" he was on, and why are the Democrats in favor of this spending bill???? Isn't there supposed to be a line drawn between private corporations and government interference? They made this mess now they have to deal with it. Too many years of too many risks with a lot of peoples' money (not to mention entire lives and well being) for the sake of multi-million dollar profits by private companies should not be rescued by taxpayers' dollars! Oi lei, turaga!

those of you in Madison: You better have gone to see either A) Salman Rushdie or B) She and Him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Chris, if you're out there: it makes me very, very happy to think about seeing The New Pornographers! What a great last show to have seen. I get really pumped up to think about "Don't Bring me Down" and all the dancing. I want to dance!

Has anyone seen Southland Tales? Whoa.