It's been about six weeks or so since I've been back in the U.S. I had a really great, wonderful experience and I'm very fortunate to have made it through my 27 months safely and healthily. I miss Fiji an awful lot, especially the people, both Fijian and American. It wasn't easy and it wasn't always fun, but I know I'm different now because of the experience. I would recommend doing this, but I'm a lot more wary now and my views on Peace Corps are also much different now than they were before I left. I can't believe that the past two years happened! They seemed to have flown by and everything now is like a dream.
I thank everyone for the support and encouragement, boxes of magazines and chocolates, letters and postcards. Sometimes it felt like I was all alone and didn't know anyone or anything, and then I'd get a dose of reality when I'd go to town and check my mailbox, both the physical one and the computer ones. I cannot thank people enough!!
If anyone ever gets a chance to visit Fiji, I highly recommend it. I was fortunate to have my placement in a country like Fiji, which is truly a tropical getaway. The diving was amazing, the people are wonderful, the weather is heavenly, and the sweets are delightful. I miss the relaxed, lazy days and conversation, but I'll admit: hot showers are a great, great invention. Probably the thing I love the most about being back in America.
If anyone ever wants more stories, I'd be happy to give them. Or answer questions, either about Peace Corps or about Fiji. I do feel part of an "elite," a small group of us who have had this experience. Not everyone can say they've done what I've done, and I apologize in advance if it seems like Fiji is the only thing on my mind. Some days I get confused about where I am, and why certain people aren't here, and why Americans do the things they do, and why the government is the way it is, and how easy and complicated life really is. It's funny, how easy life is in America but at the same time, it's unbelievably difficult and complicated. Maybe someday I'll explain that in greater detail. But for now, I have a bazillion readings to do for tomorrow and Thursday and a thesis proposal to hone. No rest for the weary.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
aftermath...
Well, the worst is over. Remember how I joked about hoping the roof was still on my house?? When I left Savusavu Wednesday, I immediately saw the effects of Tomas. Town didn't get hit too hard, but as soon as you got out of town, you could see where the storm hit. The road along the ocean was covered in sand and debris. Trees were down the whole way up to K. Death was everywhere in the foliage. Surprisingly, there was very little structural damage, save for a few lost roofs. The wind and salt from the sea killed most breadfruit trees, blew down banana and vudi (like a plantain, the 'big brother' to the banana) and coconut trees, and has basically taken out our main food supply: dalo, cassava, waci (a.k.a. rourou, or dalo leaves), breadfruit, eggplants, bele (a spinach like leafy green)... Everywhere are downed trees. It looks like someone took a 'spray', some kind of weed killer, and aerially sprayed for miles. It was depressing going back to the village, seeing some really, really big trees taken down. But I was definitely glad when I saw how much was intact. Then I got closer to my house.
My house is still there, yes. But the boys had moved everything, everything I own in Fiji, into Tui's house. Half my roof lay in a pile on the ground and in the compounds of four other houses. (I asked Kanu one day, "Who cut down the dridriwai [the leaves my roof is made out of]?" He looked at me and laughed, said, "That's your roof; no one cut it down." The insides were moved, pushed in by the force of the wind. Debris and dirt and leaves littered the ground, the shower, the sinks. It smelled of mold and rot. In short: my house in uninhabitable. And everything I own is now parceled out between three different rooms and everyone else in the village. I guess now is as good a time as any to clean house.
So I moved in my Nana and Maku, in my my sister Leti's old room. The rest of my things are in Tui's room and in Pita's room. (To further complicate things... Pita moved into Tui's house because his house was taken over for the kindergarten, which is now not going to happen either, in the foreseeable future.) Let me back up...
Here is my Fijian family:
-Nana and Maku (short for 'tamaku', which means my father. Half the village calls him this): my parents
-Tui, their son, my brother, who's the same age I am (There is another son who lives in Suva and a daughter, Leti, who got married a few months ago)
-Pita, their nephew, my brother, who's 27-ish and whose parents are deceased
-Kiri, who was married into the family whose husband died last year
-Koro, Kiri's brother-in-law, a perpetual bachelor
We're a family of orphans.
Tui stays in the house next door to Nana and Maku's. This is Maku's uncle's house (I think?), who lives on Viti Levu. Tui has stayed there for years in this three bedroom house. Pita just moved in a few weeks ago. The third bedroom, which would be ideal to be mine, is full of paint, nails, windows, and other things for the building of the church. My belongings share their time between both Pita and Tui's rooms. This is the place I spent the most time anyway, prior to the storm. Really, not too much has changed. I've slept many nights in both the houses, in Leti's room and with the boys as one big slumber party. But, I will admit, it is a change being in the house 24/7. Especially the bathing part. In my bure, I had the shower and toilet right inside with me. Now, everything's outside, across a lake of mud. I shower wearing a sulu wrapped around me, in an open to the sun with no door shower. I feel like I am seriously on my way to being a Fijian woman. My role in the house has changed, too, and no one feels bad having me pull my share (washing dishes, hauling in buckets of water, serving the boys/Maku).
It would be nice, in all honesty, to have my house back. I miss my autonomy. But, this is good too. The problem is, it could take weeks to fix the roof and floor, especially because the storm took out all the dridriwai, so there's no way to fix the roof even if we wanted it done ASAP.
What else... We just got cell service nearby (as close as it can get) yesterday afternoon but landlines are still down... Friday I went with Pita and we collected coconuts, well, I did and he cut what dalo was left. Saturday I went fishing with a couple of the women. That was a trip, because we actually went fishing with our lines out in the reef. We walked out there and had to catch our bait (small prawns) in a stream before heading out to the sea. We walked out across the coral to where the reef drops off and then we cast out our line- literally fishing wire with a hook on the end and a small weight wrapped around an empty bottle- and reel it in again. I have some problems actually 'casting' my line out and usually S had to do it for me. I ended up with about 8 really small little buggers and a horrible sunburn. But it was fun. Uncle Bruce would have been so proud of me! I had to take the hooks out (when they swallow the hooks, we have to bit the top of the end, essentially killing the fish, in order to pull it out) and I even de-scaled and gutted them!!!!! Imagine... then I went to choir practice and drank grog until 2:30 am. And then I got sick. Now I'm in town trying to get a whole plethora of things done and it is hot hot hot.
By the way, do I think it was necessary to be in town during the cyclone? No. The guys keep telling me all the stories from their side- how they played rugby Monday morning, drank grog every night, talked about how I should be there experiencing this with them... all I could say was, "I wanted to be there!!!!!"
My house is still there, yes. But the boys had moved everything, everything I own in Fiji, into Tui's house. Half my roof lay in a pile on the ground and in the compounds of four other houses. (I asked Kanu one day, "Who cut down the dridriwai [the leaves my roof is made out of]?" He looked at me and laughed, said, "That's your roof; no one cut it down." The insides were moved, pushed in by the force of the wind. Debris and dirt and leaves littered the ground, the shower, the sinks. It smelled of mold and rot. In short: my house in uninhabitable. And everything I own is now parceled out between three different rooms and everyone else in the village. I guess now is as good a time as any to clean house.
So I moved in my Nana and Maku, in my my sister Leti's old room. The rest of my things are in Tui's room and in Pita's room. (To further complicate things... Pita moved into Tui's house because his house was taken over for the kindergarten, which is now not going to happen either, in the foreseeable future.) Let me back up...
Here is my Fijian family:
-Nana and Maku (short for 'tamaku', which means my father. Half the village calls him this): my parents
-Tui, their son, my brother, who's the same age I am (There is another son who lives in Suva and a daughter, Leti, who got married a few months ago)
-Pita, their nephew, my brother, who's 27-ish and whose parents are deceased
-Kiri, who was married into the family whose husband died last year
-Koro, Kiri's brother-in-law, a perpetual bachelor
We're a family of orphans.
Tui stays in the house next door to Nana and Maku's. This is Maku's uncle's house (I think?), who lives on Viti Levu. Tui has stayed there for years in this three bedroom house. Pita just moved in a few weeks ago. The third bedroom, which would be ideal to be mine, is full of paint, nails, windows, and other things for the building of the church. My belongings share their time between both Pita and Tui's rooms. This is the place I spent the most time anyway, prior to the storm. Really, not too much has changed. I've slept many nights in both the houses, in Leti's room and with the boys as one big slumber party. But, I will admit, it is a change being in the house 24/7. Especially the bathing part. In my bure, I had the shower and toilet right inside with me. Now, everything's outside, across a lake of mud. I shower wearing a sulu wrapped around me, in an open to the sun with no door shower. I feel like I am seriously on my way to being a Fijian woman. My role in the house has changed, too, and no one feels bad having me pull my share (washing dishes, hauling in buckets of water, serving the boys/Maku).
It would be nice, in all honesty, to have my house back. I miss my autonomy. But, this is good too. The problem is, it could take weeks to fix the roof and floor, especially because the storm took out all the dridriwai, so there's no way to fix the roof even if we wanted it done ASAP.
What else... We just got cell service nearby (as close as it can get) yesterday afternoon but landlines are still down... Friday I went with Pita and we collected coconuts, well, I did and he cut what dalo was left. Saturday I went fishing with a couple of the women. That was a trip, because we actually went fishing with our lines out in the reef. We walked out there and had to catch our bait (small prawns) in a stream before heading out to the sea. We walked out across the coral to where the reef drops off and then we cast out our line- literally fishing wire with a hook on the end and a small weight wrapped around an empty bottle- and reel it in again. I have some problems actually 'casting' my line out and usually S had to do it for me. I ended up with about 8 really small little buggers and a horrible sunburn. But it was fun. Uncle Bruce would have been so proud of me! I had to take the hooks out (when they swallow the hooks, we have to bit the top of the end, essentially killing the fish, in order to pull it out) and I even de-scaled and gutted them!!!!! Imagine... then I went to choir practice and drank grog until 2:30 am. And then I got sick. Now I'm in town trying to get a whole plethora of things done and it is hot hot hot.
By the way, do I think it was necessary to be in town during the cyclone? No. The guys keep telling me all the stories from their side- how they played rugby Monday morning, drank grog every night, talked about how I should be there experiencing this with them... all I could say was, "I wanted to be there!!!!!"
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
all clear!
This should be longer, but I'm going to make it very prompt because I'm trying to hitch a ride with some governments folks back up to my village this afternoon (yay!!). Savusavu town was okay, all in all, after the storm went through. We, PCVs here in Savusavu, gave a collective, "That was it??" after the storm passed. We were expecting more, but I guess it's good that it wasn't any worse. Which is not at all to minimize the damage that Tomas did cause to some villages and islands. There was a lot of damage and flooding, and I'm anxious to see my village.
I thank everyone for your prayers, thoughts, wishes, e-mails, etc etc. It's always nice to hear from people, even when it's just to offer support during natural disasters!!
Here's a little 'nother hint into my life here, one that I'm getting really sad to leave the closer it gets (and being stuck away from the village for almost a week): you know those people that say they never ever kill anything? Not a single living thing? People that say that have obviously never had lice. If you have an outbreak of head lice, you want to kill those little bloodsuckers as soon as possible. They are awful. You want to smash their little (or big) bodies in two. And watch your blood spurt out of their bodies. It's gross, yes, but welcome to the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer in a village! This is by far the worst outbreak I've had yet. Three weeks now! (that's a conservative estimate) They're driving me nuts nuts nutso.
Until later...
I thank everyone for your prayers, thoughts, wishes, e-mails, etc etc. It's always nice to hear from people, even when it's just to offer support during natural disasters!!
Here's a little 'nother hint into my life here, one that I'm getting really sad to leave the closer it gets (and being stuck away from the village for almost a week): you know those people that say they never ever kill anything? Not a single living thing? People that say that have obviously never had lice. If you have an outbreak of head lice, you want to kill those little bloodsuckers as soon as possible. They are awful. You want to smash their little (or big) bodies in two. And watch your blood spurt out of their bodies. It's gross, yes, but welcome to the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer in a village! This is by far the worst outbreak I've had yet. Three weeks now! (that's a conservative estimate) They're driving me nuts nuts nutso.
Until later...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
See that cluster of islands at the bottom? That's Fiji. This was yesterday. Now, the storm is directly over us.
Who says I don't have a sense of humor?? I find this picture utterly hilarious, and the fact that I'm showing it to the world is a big step forward in my self-development. Look at the way I'm sitting!! I didn't see it until the next day, when we were drinking grog, and I just laughed and laughed and laughed and brother Pita told me I looked like I was a dog, the way I'm sitting. But to explain... this is how I spend my days: working on the church. Sometimes there isn't much for me to do during the day so I hang out with my brothers, my 'boys.' They're building the church (Opening Day: 6 May, 2010!!! So close!!!) and I usually help them. I don't have much to do and this feels like something very tangible I can do. I'm learning a lot and we have great conversations, especially about really touchy subjects and my work in the village. These guys are my confidants (Pita, Tui, Nemani, Akilio) and my friends. I'm already starting to miss them. Sometimes I end up being the default baby-sitter. Manoa, another of the workers, has a son whose mother works in town during the week and he brings Ropate along. Nem's son also comes to visit. I end up entertaining the kids, helping them with tea, watching over them when they get into paint and nails, and running around making a fool of myself with these beautiful little boys. So much fun! See a picture of Ropate down below.
An Open Letter to Tropical Cyclone Tomas:
Dearest Tomas,
Please be kind to us. You're on your way over, that much is for sure, but your arrival date is a little unclear. You're coming at 11 km/hr, but your offspring, wind, will be moving up to 213 km/hr (currently, FYI, your winds are at 120 km/hr: you better watch your speed, Casey Jones). You made me leave my village, which I "resisted" (apparently, because I asked if I could stay in the village in the health center, which is what I'm hearing my boss very professionally told other Volunteers), to ride in an unsafe vehicle to head directly into bad weather only to find the town bustling with activity and the ATMs out of money and one that is tricky and costs a lot of money because it's not my bank's ATM. So I was left hungry (had a very rushed tea at 7:30 and we didn't get to town until almost 1) and penniless and in town against my will not really getting a very good idea of your visit being as how I came from the village and don't understand Fijian, or how cyclones work, very well. So you see, we did not get off to a very good start. I wasn't afraid of you, oh no, not until I got to town and until my superiors at the office put panic into me. Normally, when I panic, I like someone with strength to talk me through my issues (think: "Papa, it's 3 am and I'm lost and have no money somewhere in Rome." Or, "Mom? Papa? I'm in Amersterdam and I have no money, sorry to wake you up at 5 am." Or most recently relying on my brother Tui to fix my house - the guy is seriously the calmest person I know- during the non-tsunami tsunami, for which I received a 3 AM wake up call telling me there was a tsunami warning for the next day and turns out...nothing happened. Or anytime I go to Josie, saying, "Josie, I need help.") and here, in town, I don't have that. I'm staying at a house where the homeowners are not here and I still haven't received much information about what to do except to "stand fast" and "stock up." And...? Now I'm waiting for you to come, and I hear maybe on Monday? You're a category 4; that's pretty strong.
I've eaten and showered and stocked up. I got money. I've calmed down some, but I still freak out when I think that I'm going to be here for anywhere from 4-7 days and our power is going to go out (eventually) and maybe even the water (or just get undrinkably dirty). But I'm okay. And I guess we have to reschedule our workshops that have been organized for Tuesday and Wednesday with three different villages/women's groups. Ahh!! I have so little time left in the village and now I'm stuck here. I wanted to spend a week in the village and would have done so, if not for this.
But I'm here. And I'm okay. And you're somewhere on your way. Here's a list of our rations:
-about 100 or so liters of water
-four bottles of wine
-a block of cheese
-mango licorice, oreos, popcorn
-avocadoes, eggplant, onions, bananas, garlic, pineapple, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers
-pasta
-beans, dried and canned
-eggs
-canned corn, tomatoes, tomato paste
(pictures of our food rations coming later!)
-4 boxes of tuna (compliments of PC for our emergency rations.)
-toilet paper, mosquito coils, matches, kerosene, lantern
-Movies, playing cards, batteries, books, crossword puzzle books, journal
...and you get the picture.
So, Tomas, in closing: I'm waiting for you. We're charging everything. I've heard hurricanes are fun. I could use some fun.
Some things to note:
I have a long list of people to write letters to: Morgan, Mrs. Rowley, and Michele are some of them.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
some reflections
I'm a certified open water diver!!! Whoo hoo! So exciting! Getting scuba certified is something I never, ever in my wildest dreams imagined doing. But I did it! Even when I was a little seasick and nauseaus and dizzy, I still did it. And it was incredible. Swimming in the ocean amid corals and fishes of all shapes, sizes and colors, seeing sting rays and sharks up close, and being that far below water is so cool and so beautiful. I hope I use this skill a lot (even though it is an expensive hobby), especially because my time is so short here in Fiji and money limited. But who knows? If not, I'll be certified forever and I'll always be able to tell the story of getting scuba certified. It's scary, that's for sure. And my ears hurt. And now I have an ear infection! But, it was totally worth it.
That's about the only cool thing that's happened in a while. On the work end, we finally got the fish pond dug- yay!!! It only took a year! I'll be curious to see what happened while I was away on some much needed leave time. And, the women got their co-op store back! That's been exciting, and a battle. It hasn't been easy but for the most part, people are really excited and happy about it. It's great training and working with the women. They just have to keep it up! They'll show those stodgy old men that women aren't lazy, they are smart and just as educated, and they do have business sense! The goal of the store is to earn money for more store improvements and to put towards a kitchen/bakery for the community hall.
Whew! While I felt like this wasn't enough, like I haven't been doing enough in the village, I learned that this is quite a lot. I suppose it is. We do a lot of other, smaller things that I think are just as valid and mean a lot, too. Does this mean Peace Corps should continue work in my village? That will be decided soon, but I can't say for sure. It's tricky- do you want the village to rely on outside organizations like PC or be independent after having two PCVs in the village?
I also realized so much else about my site. 1. I love Vanua Levu. It's so beautiful up here!!! Everything is so lush (outside of the Labasa side) and green and healthy. There is a diversity of plants. The ocean provides an astounding view as you're driving. It's so wonderful up here, compared to northern Viti Levu (sorry!). 2. The life is better, in my opinion, also. It's so laid back and people are so helpful and fun and work hard. And very self-sufficient. My village is so lucky to be so educated and motivated. At times it seems like they're not, but compared to other villages... we're pretty awesome. 3. As a PCV, you get out of this experience what you put in. i feel like that's a lame statement, but I think it's very true. If you spend a lot of time in your house by yourself, or in town with other PCVs, that's the experience you'll have. Sure, you'll take away big issues and changes and attitude adjustments, but you're not in America and you can't pretend that you are or live like you are. I'm excited to go home, but I do so with a very heavy heart. I really love my village and the people in it. We have had some hard times, but we've had a lot of good. I've had my share of tears and troubles and heartaches but that happens anywhere you are. I love that I spend so much time outside of my house. Sometimes I'm so busy I haven't touched a book all week. And while it might not look like a lot of tangible 'work' has been accomplished, my garden, my yaqona plantation, fishing, cooking, gathering food, drinking grog, singing with the choir, going to church, helping prepare for big gatherings, going to other villages, and being a part of the community has left me little time to sit around wishing I was someplace else. This only lasts for so long. After this, I'll have to go back to America with a job that probably won't pay me much. I'll be so dependent on money and I wont' have the luxury of 'kere kere'ing from my neighbors, or going over to someone's house in the middle of the day and sitting around talking, or learning from the people around me like I have here. I've been forced out of my comfort zone and maybe I have just spoken into an empty hole a lot of the time but I know that some people have heard me. I will have left something behind, tangibly, emotionally, environmentally, mentally. It goes both ways.
Lecture over.
taylar, out.
That's about the only cool thing that's happened in a while. On the work end, we finally got the fish pond dug- yay!!! It only took a year! I'll be curious to see what happened while I was away on some much needed leave time. And, the women got their co-op store back! That's been exciting, and a battle. It hasn't been easy but for the most part, people are really excited and happy about it. It's great training and working with the women. They just have to keep it up! They'll show those stodgy old men that women aren't lazy, they are smart and just as educated, and they do have business sense! The goal of the store is to earn money for more store improvements and to put towards a kitchen/bakery for the community hall.
Whew! While I felt like this wasn't enough, like I haven't been doing enough in the village, I learned that this is quite a lot. I suppose it is. We do a lot of other, smaller things that I think are just as valid and mean a lot, too. Does this mean Peace Corps should continue work in my village? That will be decided soon, but I can't say for sure. It's tricky- do you want the village to rely on outside organizations like PC or be independent after having two PCVs in the village?
I also realized so much else about my site. 1. I love Vanua Levu. It's so beautiful up here!!! Everything is so lush (outside of the Labasa side) and green and healthy. There is a diversity of plants. The ocean provides an astounding view as you're driving. It's so wonderful up here, compared to northern Viti Levu (sorry!). 2. The life is better, in my opinion, also. It's so laid back and people are so helpful and fun and work hard. And very self-sufficient. My village is so lucky to be so educated and motivated. At times it seems like they're not, but compared to other villages... we're pretty awesome. 3. As a PCV, you get out of this experience what you put in. i feel like that's a lame statement, but I think it's very true. If you spend a lot of time in your house by yourself, or in town with other PCVs, that's the experience you'll have. Sure, you'll take away big issues and changes and attitude adjustments, but you're not in America and you can't pretend that you are or live like you are. I'm excited to go home, but I do so with a very heavy heart. I really love my village and the people in it. We have had some hard times, but we've had a lot of good. I've had my share of tears and troubles and heartaches but that happens anywhere you are. I love that I spend so much time outside of my house. Sometimes I'm so busy I haven't touched a book all week. And while it might not look like a lot of tangible 'work' has been accomplished, my garden, my yaqona plantation, fishing, cooking, gathering food, drinking grog, singing with the choir, going to church, helping prepare for big gatherings, going to other villages, and being a part of the community has left me little time to sit around wishing I was someplace else. This only lasts for so long. After this, I'll have to go back to America with a job that probably won't pay me much. I'll be so dependent on money and I wont' have the luxury of 'kere kere'ing from my neighbors, or going over to someone's house in the middle of the day and sitting around talking, or learning from the people around me like I have here. I've been forced out of my comfort zone and maybe I have just spoken into an empty hole a lot of the time but I know that some people have heard me. I will have left something behind, tangibly, emotionally, environmentally, mentally. It goes both ways.
Lecture over.
taylar, out.
Friday, January 15, 2010
morgan's visit
Anyone else want to come visit me? Great times are bound to be had! Morgan is about to leave, and I thought I'd share a little bit of our time together. The plan was to be in the village Tuesday through Monday, then head to town Monday and go to Taveuni Tuesday-Friday, then she would leave Saturday. However, as happens in Fiji, the plan changed as we were in the place to buy tickets for the ferry on Tuesday and they say, "There's no ferry this week." Excuse me? You didn't say this when I just talked to you two days ago! There wasn't another ferry that would get us there in the time we had left, so we turned around and headed back to the village. So Morgan got to experience almost two weeks in a rural Fijian village, a life very different from the one to which she is accustomed.
Tuesday she got welcomed with a traditional grog drinking circle and met all my family and tried the dalo leaves, which she loved. Wednesday and Thursday we attended two weddings in other villages which were long, hot days full of eating, grog, and dancing. Lots of dancing. Late nights and wild parties were had. Thursday we rested and Friday I guess we did, too, with grog in the evenings. Morgan brought Uno and that was our entertainment every night in the shed. Saturday we wanted to go out in the boat on the water, but while waiting for the boat we ended up in the river. A bunch of the boys wanted to show Morgan the traditional Fijian way of cooking, called the 'lovo.' This is an oven made of heated stones and then covered. That morning, I had gotten up and after making breakfast for all of us (Morgan, my brothers, the uncle that eats with us, and a few other visitors), I set out to pick the dalo leaves. I come back hot, sweaty, dirty and find Morgan, Tui, Nemani, and Kanu playing cards in my house! The Little Red Hen, was I. We ended up cooking dalo and palusami, which is dalo leaves with coconut cream and then we cooked them in coconut shells (no tin foil). We also killed a chicken and threw that on. While waiting, we ended up in the river. Normally, I stay as far away from this water as I possibly can but I wanted to bring Morgan a 'bilibili,' which is a bamboo raft so I went to where the kids were playing and begged them to come down to our end of the river. To do that, I had to get in all the way. We swam, I was pulled on the raft, paddled our way down and pretty much everyone ended up in the water until church started and we got called out. Then we waited for the lovo to be done and when it was, it was delicious! This was an extremely fun day and very memorable. Makes me realize how much I love the kids and how great my brothers are.
Sunday we went to church in the morning, had a big lunch, and then went swimming at a natural pool nearby. Again, the kids were great hosts and we had a lot of fun swimming around. The weather has been hot, hot, hot. Then we went to church again (i went to church again, where I nodded off so much I had to leave) and after that had a big tea, then drank grog and started the first of Morgan's many farewell parties. I have to leave the adventure off here, because she wants to get going. More to come...
Tuesday she got welcomed with a traditional grog drinking circle and met all my family and tried the dalo leaves, which she loved. Wednesday and Thursday we attended two weddings in other villages which were long, hot days full of eating, grog, and dancing. Lots of dancing. Late nights and wild parties were had. Thursday we rested and Friday I guess we did, too, with grog in the evenings. Morgan brought Uno and that was our entertainment every night in the shed. Saturday we wanted to go out in the boat on the water, but while waiting for the boat we ended up in the river. A bunch of the boys wanted to show Morgan the traditional Fijian way of cooking, called the 'lovo.' This is an oven made of heated stones and then covered. That morning, I had gotten up and after making breakfast for all of us (Morgan, my brothers, the uncle that eats with us, and a few other visitors), I set out to pick the dalo leaves. I come back hot, sweaty, dirty and find Morgan, Tui, Nemani, and Kanu playing cards in my house! The Little Red Hen, was I. We ended up cooking dalo and palusami, which is dalo leaves with coconut cream and then we cooked them in coconut shells (no tin foil). We also killed a chicken and threw that on. While waiting, we ended up in the river. Normally, I stay as far away from this water as I possibly can but I wanted to bring Morgan a 'bilibili,' which is a bamboo raft so I went to where the kids were playing and begged them to come down to our end of the river. To do that, I had to get in all the way. We swam, I was pulled on the raft, paddled our way down and pretty much everyone ended up in the water until church started and we got called out. Then we waited for the lovo to be done and when it was, it was delicious! This was an extremely fun day and very memorable. Makes me realize how much I love the kids and how great my brothers are.
Sunday we went to church in the morning, had a big lunch, and then went swimming at a natural pool nearby. Again, the kids were great hosts and we had a lot of fun swimming around. The weather has been hot, hot, hot. Then we went to church again (i went to church again, where I nodded off so much I had to leave) and after that had a big tea, then drank grog and started the first of Morgan's many farewell parties. I have to leave the adventure off here, because she wants to get going. More to come...
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