rugby, yaqona planting, pictures

The gang in the mountains on Tuesday. L-R, Akei, Uraia, Tucika, Kanu, Tui, Paulo, Lou, Turaga

Tuesday I went "up" with the Youth. I work a lot with our Youth Club, which is 19 men ages 20-40 and two (sometimes more) women, both 31, one of them my counterpart. We have a lot of projects we want to get going, including prawn farming and beekeeping. To raise money, one of the older men is paying the group to plant 1000 yaqona plants. Tuesday we went up to the mountains, to his farm. There were 11 of us, including one of the two young women. We were in charge of the food preparation. This meant that we had to keep the tea boiled. We had tea I think about three times that day. Lunch was 5 tins of mackerel and 8 tins of tuna both with sliced onion, with cassava, followed by tea and biscuits (breakfast crackers). I learned how to plant the yaqona, which was great finally getting my hands dirty. The view was, of course, beautiful. It felt good to get out of the village and do some work. See pictures for more details.


Bavelo and Mereseini preparing the voivoi to weave the mats. First they take off the sharp parts then roll the leaves up, then they boil them. After they're boiled, they need to dry for a few days in the sun. They're then rolled again and again to get smooth. There's more of the process, too, before they even begin to start weaving.


Kanu at the end of the day Tuesday.

The most popular sport in Fiji is rugby, especially Sevens. There are two kinds of rugby, 7's and 15's. Seven's has seven players and two- 7 min halves. Fifteens has fifteen players and each half is 40 mins. Fiji was the two-time world championship team in 7's a few years ago. Rugby is mainly tournaments; teams are in pools and play a dozen times in a span of three days. The thing abour rugby is that it's awesome. It makes American football look like absolutely nothing. They don't wear padding. They don't wear padding. They run up and down the field for the full 14 minutes. It's so intense! The last full weekend in March was the Hong Kong 7's Tournament. There's only one TV in our village with a satellite dish, so everyone crowds around this TV during the rugby games. People from my village and nearby villages come over to watch- laying, sitting, standing, anywhere there's room. It's kind of like having a Super Bowl Party with the Packers playing every week or so. Well, Fiji won! It's the first time in ten years they've won this tournament, beating the South African team (who has the best record right now, but the world champs is Wales). South Africa is really good, so is England (who Fiji beat) and Kenya. The other Pacific Island teams are also really good. At the last tournament last weekend, Fiji lost a heartbreaker to Kenya in the semi-finals, with Kenya going on to lose to South Africa. But, alas, the US team won the Shield tournament! (There were four different pools of championships: Shield, Cup, Plate, and Bowl being the best.)

Fun tidbit: A popular saying, and one you should learn if you come to Fiji, is “Vinaka vakalevu” or “Kana vakalevu.” Vinaka is thank you, kana is eat, and vakalevu is literally, very big. So the literal translations are “Thank you very big” and “Eat very big.” However, that's not what we say in English. But try explaining why you thank “very much” but eat “a lot.” I get a lot of people saying to me, “Eat big!” It's always hard to not laugh a little at that.

A little bit more about rugby: the most famous Fijian rugby player is Weseli Serevi. He's retired now, but is a coach sometimes. All the kids know him; it's like Brett Favre was to Wisconsin kids. When tournaments are on, everything else (except church) stops. It's such a big deal! But oh so fun. During Hong Kong, our generator went out at a really intense moment in the game. Everyone just threw up their hands and sighed. It was awful! They won, which redeemed it, as they hooked up a smaller generator.

I've slowed down my reading a bit, partly because I was trudging through Sense and Sensibility (I read Pride and Prejudice in a heartbeat, but I just couldn't get into this one) and partly because I've been spending more time with the friends I've been making. It's good to have people to talk to and I feel close to them. One of the guys I've gotten to be good friends with is also considered my brother; my counterpart's family took me in right away, and I have “Maku” (short for “tamaku,” meaning my father), Nana Mere (mother Mere), the one brother in Iraq, my CP/ sister, and then Tui, my brother. I like it because they, especially Tui, really look out for me and it's like I really have a brother, something I've obviously never really felt before as an adult. We've gotten to be really close and I'm starting to feel less like an outsider. (Mom, I know what you're thinking but please don't read too much into it. He's my brother!) The conversations I've been having with these guys have been great; we're at the point where we feel comfortable asking/ telling about ourselves and having the kind of deeper conversations I miss having with my girl friends. The hard part for me has been bridging the gender gap. In Fijian culture, there are some relationships that can't talk. The woman that I went up to the farm with Tuesday (DiLevu) can't talk to a couple of her uncles/ cousins. She can talk to the younger ones but not the older ones. They can't really even be together; she has to sit away from them. One of her cousins (I think that's the relationship) is the leader of the youth group so if she wants to ask questions in the meetings or when we were serving the food, she has to go through someone else, usually me, in order to achieve whatever it is she was doing. It's so frustrating for me as an outsider because I don't know these relationships and I don't have them. She said that they used to play together when they were younger, but around age 14 or 15, that had to stop. They learn when they're young who they can and cannot talk to. It's the same with a lot of the older women, too. They can't dance in front of or drink grog with a lot of the older men. I'm curious to know, from the younger generation, whether or not they think things like this will ever change. Will these relationships/ hierarchies ever change? Will girls ever be able to wear shorts in the village? How do boys and girls have a relationship if they can't show any affection in the village? Stuff like this.

This is DiLevu (her son is Poso, see picture at bottom)

Here's part of my gang: Tui, Tucika, and Pita. This is a regular night for us. A lot of people in the village right now are taking a break from drinking grog so we usually just talanoa (tell stories).

A bowl of grog.

I think one of the hardest things to reconcile as a PCV is how to transcend those boundaries that we don't have. As a guest, I'm allowed into the men's circles. I'm allowed to talk to anyone and everyone. I can be with the men, the women, the kids, the youth. I can drink grog. I can go to the farm. I can dance in front of anyone. I can eat first before everyone else (trust me, I hate this), or before the women. I don't have to help as much sometimes (again, something I hate but it's almost more of an offense to disobey the nau's (grandmothers). Trust me again, I have a lot of grandmothers! And kukus, grandfathers. When whence I had no grandfathers, now I have a dozen or so.

Nau Tupou and her basket of rubbish.

Here's an update on the widow of the man who just died. I found out she's only 28! (He was, get this, 58!) She was pregnant, but now she isn't. Apparently there's this thing, I was told, that happens in Fijian culture where women will be pregnant, or show signs of pregnancy, but then won't be. So she was pregnant, but then during later ultrasounds there was no fetus, no heartbeat, just water. She is showing signs of being pregnant, like her stomach, but I guess there's nothing in there. I don't get it... I still need to do more research on this but this is what I was told.

It's almost my birthday! I'm getting old. I actually feel like I'm getting old, even though I'm nowhere need old. I'm getting old and I'm in Fiji! What?!? Fijian for Easter is “Day of the Dead.” I kind of hate thinking my birthday is on Easter if that's what it means!

Here I am, this past Tuesday while farming yaqona. (Do those clothes look familiar, mom???)

Palm Sunday is the children's service and the Sunday school kids (both Methodist and Catholic) put on the service. Here are some of them.

This is Aleposo. He's such a doll. He has some issues (emotional/ mental things that put him behind other kids his age, 7) but I love him.