parents visit!

Parents! They made it here all right, after stopping off in New Zealand for a bit, tramping and shearing and sailing and whatnot. I never told them, but I spent the whole day before their arrival cleaning my bure and making “practice pancakes.” Pancakes are kind of a big deal in my family, and while mine will never compare to my dad’s, I wanted to keep our pancake tradition alive and thus tried my best with what I had. I shared them with my neighbors, who said, “Lisa! You are too smart at pancakes!” (The joke-that-never-gets-old among us PCVs is that Fijians use the word “smart” when they mean “does well.” I have been told I’m also too smart at weeding tavioka, eating Fijian food, and feeding the pig.)

Anyways, so that was Sunday. Monday morning, the morning they were to arrive, I thought I’d give them a tiny laugh and put on my most obnoxious red jiaba-sulu. So I walked out on the road to intercept their taxi in my full-on Fijian apparel. I purposely walked just outside the village because I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to handle seeing them again after so long, and didn’t want to be entirely overwhelmed by having the villagers swarming around to meet them to boot.

I’m not sure I can quite express the happiness I felt seeing the taxi emerge from the sugar cane fields, seeing dad’s face in the front window, rushing to the taxi to give them both hugs. So much comfort after so many months of discomfort! Not so much discomfort, but newness and differences and irregularities. Finally faces that were so familiar that made me remember who the hell I am and where the hell I come from!

They did great. Mom even tried the grog, which is the Fijian ceremonial drink that comes from pounding the roots of the kava plant. Although it did take her quite a lot of sips to down one coconut shell-full, to her credit, it does taste like dirt water. I made them lunch (Chaana masala), someone brought us pineapple, someone brought us cow’s milk, and then we were invited to my Fiji family’s house for special dinner and a meke (dance).

After the dinner, but before the meke, mom remembered the reading glasses she had brought from America. After I told her my “tata” really needed some new reading glasses, asking if she could bring an extra pair when she came, she took it upon herself to solicit more from friends. I keep hearing about them even now, how happy they have made the village. So, thanks mom! (And Denise, and everybody else!)

The next morning I made the pancakes with “Peace Corps Syrup” (sugar, water, vanilla) – I think they were a hit – and then we headed out to Rakiraki, my nearest town. I gave them the grand tour which took about 15 minutes. Then we headed to a hotel.

How interesting (and backwards) to see the country from the side of tourists. My favorite was at one of the hotels, every night at 6 o’clock, a man draped in nothing but coconut leaves ran around yelling “Bula!” (hello!) to every table as he lit the tiki torches. Mom and dad asked me if that happens in the village every night at 6 o’clock too. Of course.

Before I knew it, they were gone, and I found myself at a Peace Corps-sponsored workshop on “project and design management” with all the other Viti Levu rural volunteers on the Coral Coast. Their visit seemed too short – but wouldn’t any length feel too short? But how wonderful to be surrounded by some of my favorite fellow volunteers for an entire week – it made the departure of mom and dad much more manageable. Now the village wonders when "sister chessika" will visit.


Mom and I feeding the pig.


Ladies do a "meke" (dance) for mom and dad.


Crossing the river out of the village to catch the bus.


Some of my village faves with mom and dad.


Dad's not too sure about picking up a box of un-refrigerated Mixed Chicken Pieces at the Rakiraki supermarket.


Dad talking with some of my uncles.


Mom meets Papukeni.


Mom (slowly) sips the kava.


Ok. We're in paradise. Now what?


Right? Right? Come visit.

lunch-offs

I am busy! My goodness. Every day is a day full of something. In some ways I wish I were less busy, so I could relax a bit more and read more books. But I don’t want to stop the momentum, because my whole area is really excited to start working. So, I guess I will keep going.

I realized an upside to visiting so many areas within a given week. Each village or settlement is vying to give me the best lunch. They ask me what I had at each place earlier in the week, and, to remain diplomatic, I tell them that their village, of course, has the best food. I think part of them thinks that if they serve me the best lunch, they will keep me coming back, and I will in turn help their community the most. In reality, I will, with or without lunch, invest in all of them equally. But I won’t tell them that. It’s kind of like learning you should never interrupt someone while they are complimenting you. Why stop such a good thing!

Watched Gilmore Girls last night for the first time in a very long time. I realized that trying to understand rapid Fijian is excellent practice for understanding the entirety of the dialogue in any given episode. Before I would only pick up about 50% of what was said. Now, almost everything! Well, at least about 80%.

Parents come in 4 days! They will sleep here in my bure on Monday night. Then we’ll venture off to visit the rest of the country. I am extremely excited for their visit. I will be sure to take lots of pictures and post them here.

bees, burns, bananas

The past couple of weeks have been busy! And somehow I've found myself in the strangest situations. I wish I had pictures to go along with the stories. One day I'll get better at this.

I was writing one day, in my house, listening to music, right around dusk. I noticed it was getting a little warm. I look outside my window, and see huge flames. The sugar cane field, which starts about 10 feet from my (very flammable) bure, is on fire. I go outside and watch in amazement. Fire is very contained and well-behaved here, though, and so while I was concerned, the village wasn't. I took a lot of pictures, might've prayed to Jisu a little, and then waited for it to settle down. It was started on purpose, of course, (and with no warning, of course) because the sugar cane had just been harvested. It was very Fiji.

I went to see Lydia's village (another PCV) -- she lives right on the coast, and is only accessible by boat. So we waited for the tide to come in, got on the boat, and ventured out there. It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Later that visit, we hiked atop a nearby mountain to see the village in context of the Viti Levu Bay. From the top of that mountain, overlooking the incredible expanse of water underneath, high enough so that bats circled below us, and coconut trees were mere toothpicks, I thought of the Grand Canyon. Different scenery, of course, but the similar feeling of total admiration of and respect for nature. And, also not truly believing what I was seeing was real. It was overwhelmingly beautiful!

A nearby Fiji RPCV (returned Peace Corps volunteer), who was a volunteer in the mid-80's and who now lives in Fiji, took a few of us current volunteers out in his boat to an empty island. It was the kind of beach you see on desktop backgrounds -- complete with coconut trees, a white sandy beach, and no other humans around. We had coconut and papaya as snacks, went snorkeling, and wandered around looking at the creatures living along the beach. My favorite were the large, vibrantly blue starfish that we were able to pick up and admire from up close. It was an incredible day, followed by an incredible hot shower and an incredible lunch at their house. And an incredible sunburn. (I thought I could handle the sun -- I'm from New Mexico after all! -- but Fiji sun is (duh) worse. I learned my lesson. And I learned the PC gives out Aloe for free.)

I spent Tuesday morning wandering around in a bee suit. There was a beekeeping workshop in my village put on by the same RPCV mentioned above, and having never seen bee hives, I tagged along. I learned that bee suits are hot. But also -- beekeeping is fun! You don't have to do much work, and in return, you get a delicious snack. There is a push to lift Fiji's dependence on sugar cane export, and honey is a likely alternative because of its minimal work, huge demand, and incredible profit. So I may find myself in a bee suit again soon!

The waste management campaign is going really well. We have now built rubbish pits and compost bins in one of my villages, and are learning to sort out the tins, PET plastics, glass, and aluminum. (The other village is going slowly -- it is just such a big village! But I know we'll get there one day too!) On the horizon, which we may start next week, are soakage pits. Instead of having greywater (water from the sinks and showers) run into the river, we will intercept the drain and plant banana trees in a circle. The banana trees, which are very good at absorbing large amounts of water, will be able to turn once potentially harmful chemicals into delicious fruit.

My parents are visiting in about a week and a half! I am very excited to show this place off to them. I'm hoping it will ground my current experience in some sort of reality! (Often I feel like I am dreaming..)

same old same old

Been a couple months. Man I’ve been horrible at blogging. Sitting down to recount the enormity of even a day is daunting, let alone a week or a month (or two!). But. I will have to ignore the fact that I will not be able to cover it all and just dive in. I do have a lot to say!

Finally establishing a rhythm here. I have shifted my focus from integration to starting work. It feels, to me, the right time. The Peace Corps says to wait 3 months before starting projects. But really, it’s ultimately up to you and varies from person to person depending upon their village. There is a lot of sense to waiting, because you really need to understand the context of the village in which you live before you go in and try to change its course. There are protocols, power struggles, traditional gender roles, familial taboos, and other seemingly hidden village dynamics that are necessary to understand before undertaking any project involving the entire community. In addition, they have to get to know and trust you, and you the same. It takes time. And while it was not an easy three months, it was incredibly necessary, and now, at this point, I feel incredibly prepared and motivated to start work!

I have found the time similar to raising a child, I would imagine. The relationship has to be cultivated carefully. And there is a lot of doing things that you do not necessarily want to do, but should for the sake of investment and fostering of the relationship. Like caring for runny noses, instilling discipline, taming untimely crying, maintaining patience when not understanding, dirty diapers, and no time to yourself. But then! Your child grows and starts displaying those characteristics you hoped God it would. Like being considerate of others, cleaning up after themselves, respecting authority, etc. And I am not sure who is the baby in this analogy, me or my village. Because a lot of the time I feel they are raising me. Maybe we are raising each other. In any case, we are affecting each other, it is clear, and, I think so far, the exchange has been wonderful and positive.

My first project is waste management. In Fiji, there are no guidelines or regulations for trash. It is thrown in the rivers, into the ocean, out of buses, into the drainage ditches, onto the roads, within the forest, etc. What isn’t dumped into nature is put in a pile and burned. Everything. Tins, plastics, paper, diapers, batteries, cardboard, etc. The piles of burning trash, which are always left unattended, are in the middle of towns, villages, and settlements. Needless to say Fiji is very smoky. This is the way of life here, and in all fairness, what are you to do with trash on a teensy island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? However, what I am starting to tell my village in our community meetings are the following:
1. Stop burning plastics!
2. Compost!
3. Stop littering!
4. Recycle!
After visiting the primary school and having a great conversation with a surprisingly receptive head teacher, I returned one week later to find a “waste disposal area” all set up with signs indicating the compost, plastics, tins, bottles, and incinerator. I was very impressed by the initiative of the teacher, and while it isn’t perfect, it is a great start.

My two villages are following suit, as they have now all seen the waste disposal area at the school. We have begun village clean-ups in which the whole community collects, sorts, and disposes of trash found around the villages. There are now big pits in both villages, and hopefully, in time, there will be less burning, and more thought as to where to put what. It is hard to teach proper waste management, because it is a rather murky subject that has no clear solution. Choosing to either burn or bury is picking between the lesser of two evils. Both aren’t ideal. But, as far as I can tell, burning plastics, which emit harmful toxins, needs to stop, and the amount of smoke in my village is unbearable. So, I chose to preach “bury.”

Now that waste management is underway, I am looking ahead to future projects. Water, certainly. Fiji is probably thought to have the most pristine water in the world, because of the success of Fiji Water. In reality, many people of rural Fiji still lack clean, reliable drinking water. In one area of my village, eight houses share one single pipe of water which runs continuously into a bathtub in the middle of the road. People come here to wash dishes, do laundry, bathe, and collect water for cooking. Another area of my village, including the school (about 500 people affected in total), currently uses water that is being contaminated by a settlement above the dam. Runoffs from pesticides, soaps, piggeries, human waste, and trash dumps all end up in the water.

So those are projects.

Another thing on my mind is the reality that Fiji has since lost its new and shiny quality. It has become rather monotonous and cramped in its scope, lacking a certain creative energy and expansiveness in thought. Never before have I been somewhere as exciting and dull as this place. Wild horses, tsunami warnings, and erratic buses, sure, but at the same time, each day is remarkably similar to the last. The rhythm of the village is monotone. The roles of women and men are seemingly unalterable. All the music is rhythmically and tonally identical. The belief in one God is omnipotent. Even though there exist alternative spices and ingredients in the supermarkets, food remains static and bland. For girls, there is netball, and for boys, there is rugby.

But it’s sustainable. Every day, you get up and do just as much work that is required so that you can get up and do the same tomorrow. No more, no less. In this way, no one ever gets ahead of themselves. This lifestyle, which is harmonious, yes, and certainly breeds a stress-free environment (I don’t think I have yet seen an argument in my village), the westerner in me wonders if there can be more. Not more money or things or materials, but more creativity and exploration and discovery. More expansive ideas and ingenuity. The knowledge that each person holds an incredible amount of potential that could, if cultivated, become anything, do anything, understand anything.

So. I have tried to think of ways to infuse my community with this attitude. As much as I would like to start a revolution, I think it’s against Peace Corps policy. But I do want to shake things up. Make people’s eyes open to the potential, size, and possibility of our world. Maybe this is a typical idealist PCV attitude that will fade alongside my service. Maybe I’ll realize that no, it’s impossible, and this is the way Fiji is and will always be. But I do see incredible potential here that is untapped. And it is overwhelmingly exciting.

I have not mentioned my cat! Papukeni remains cute. She now wears a flea collar, and ever since her fleas have been controlled, she has been much more tolerable to be around. She is definitely a village cat, and everyone knows her and feeds her and brings her back when she ventures too far away. She is incredibly loving, and while I try to keep my distance (you never know what could happen), she has become a pretty sturdy companion. She follows me when I leave for the day, but luckily, I choose the path with the goat in the middle of it, and while she is relatively fearless as far as cats go, she is scared of goats. So I’m able to go on my way.

Photos!

My house during training in the village of Mokani.


The Mokani guitar club. Lydia and I started a little guitar fad in the village!


All the girls of Mokani in our matching jiabas.


Nadave. Where some of our training was held.


Nadi La (center) with Save (left) and Una (right). Nadi La was my aunt in Mokani and who sewed me all my jiabas! Save was my little brother. Una is Nadi La's daughter. On our way to the end-of-training celebration!


Me and Save during our last night in Mokani.


The meke the ladies in our village performed for us! Vula is on the left, my mom is in the middle, and Nadi La is on the right.


At the swear-in ceremony at the US Ambassador's house. Me with our language instructors who lived in the village with us for 2 months. Aliti is on the left, La is on the right. They were AMAZING!


The bure! Made of bamboo, coconut leaves, and other natural materials from the surrounding mountains.


A little glimpse inside the bure.


Looking up inside my bure.


My toilet/shower/sink/clothesline.


Papukeni! My new kitten. Papukeni means pumpkin in Fijian.

At site!

Well! Lots to update about. Sworn-in and at been at site for almost 4 weeks now. I live in a beautiful village in the interior of Viti Levu (the main island of Fiji). I am surrounded by mountains and have to cross a river (no bridge! But the water is only up to mid-calf) when I come in and out of town. I am about 1 hour from RakiRaki, where I go on Thursdays to stock up on supplies, have lunch with the other 6 volunteers who live in the area, and eat lots of ice cream. The closest volunteer to me is about 25 minutes by bus.

I’m staying in the middle of about 5 houses of one family that has sort of “adopted” me. So I have a mom, dad, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, etc. My mom (nana) and dad (tata) give me food and are helping me integrate into the village, which has been extremely helpful.

I live in a Fijian bure. They all laugh at me when I tell them that people back home don’t know what a Fijian bure is. It is made purely of things growing around me – bamboo poles as the frame, matted bamboo as the floor and walls, and interlaced coconut leaves as the ceiling. The ceiling is perhaps 15-20 feet high and converges at the top similar to a teepee. It smells like I am in a tropical tree. I guess I sort of am. Bures are known for staying very cool – and compounded with being in the interior of the island at a higher elevation, it can get very cold at night. In fact, one morning this week I could see my breath! (It is winter here, after all.)

My bure has no electricity except for when the generator comes on from 6-9pm once or twice a week (never the same day of the week so it is always exciting and keeps you on your toes!). It is all one room, although the the back half is raised by a step and there are curtains separating the two sides. My nana always jokes that it is the “stage” and when she comes over to visit we always tell each other to “laga sere!” (sing a song!) on the stage. The kitchen is in one corner and consists of a double burner propane stove raised about 6 inches off the floor. I have a wonderful table, which also doubles as my desk. I am waiting on shelves, which tata says he’ll build one day. The wood has been sitting outside for about 3 weeks now, but hey, no rush. My toilet/shower combo is outside about 5 feet from my house along a concrete walkway. There is a double sink attached, which is perfect for washing clothes and dishes.

This job does require lots of patience. Things just come incredibly slowly. In fact, it took me about 3 weeks just to figure out how to walk in and out of my bure without repeatedly running into the coconut fronds and getting tiny pieces of tree in my hair. But beyond that – how do you keep things without a refrigerator? How do you keep things from molding? How do you keep ants out of everything? How is everyone related to each other? Things that are seemingly mindless to Fijians – but require much explanation to Americans. And, when explanations come in rapid Fijian, you have to take a deep breath and realize that today you won’t get an answer. Maybe tomorrow.

Right now I am doing a lot of “talanoa.” Which basically means, lie down and tell stories. Usually after lunch, the ladies all bring out pillows and we all lie down together on the floor mats. After one or two hours you fall asleep, and when you wake up, you tell more stories and then it’s time for tea. It’s really fun. There is something inherently trusting about napping in somebody else’s house around people you don’t really know. So, once you emerge from your nap, you feel closer to the ladies around you. You go from strangers to best friends in a matter of hours! It’s one of the cuter parts of Fijian culture.

I got a kitten! Still unnamed – hasn’t hit me yet. She curls up on my lap and purrs while I cook. She sometimes curls up on my ear when I sleep, but since she is so small and it is so cold, it is like a little earmuff and it is wonderful. There is a kitten-sized opening in one of the bure walls so when I leave for the day she can play outside and come inside if it rains. Fijians don’t have pet cats, and see them more as rat catchers. I don’t know how not to treat cats like pets, so when my neighbors come over and she curls up on their laps and purrs, they look at me, visibly uncomfortable, and I say “vosoti au!” (I’m sorry!) and grab the cat and give them a look as if I don’t know where that cat is learning its manners.

Lots more to say, but I’ll save it for another time! Sending lots and lots of love from Fiji.

Training's over..?

It is hard to believe that we all swear-in in 10 days (??). They've managed to keep us so busy that we don't have time to really process where we are and what is going on and, as a result, the weeks just fly. Life in the village is so comfortable right now, and training has become so predictable, that I'm a little anxious to have it all uprooted in 10 days. However, life must go on, and I am excited to move into my new Fijian bure (!) and start anew.

Oh, and my chamba count is now at 9. My host mom kids that I'll have to buy a new suitcase just for all the new dresses she's made me!

Anyways, too many stories to relay in too little time. One day I'll become better at this..

frogs, fashion, coconuts.

My host brother Save is so wonderful. He is only 12 but so thoughtful, interested, and considerate. When it rains, he is sure that he covers me with the umbrella. When we eat, and he finishes first, he asks me if he can leave the table. When we read from the Fijian bible at church, he moves over each word with his finger to show me where we are. An exceedingly sweet kid. So when we came back from a neighbor's house the other night and a frog was hopping across the living room floor, I was pretty shocked when he ran up to it and proceeded to kick it as far as he could.

Still trying to process this. But I couldn't get mad. I just ran up to it, picked it up gently, and placed it outside. Save then said, "oh you like froggy? I'm sorry" (I don't think it was even injured!). I said that yes, I do like frogs. I know that he has such a big heart -- but, like lots of Fijians, that just doesn't extend to animals. It's insanity. But, at the same time, does he think it was insanity that I went through so much trouble to catch the frog and take it outside? If it was an American child who did that, I would have absolutely lost it (as much as I am capable of losing it) -- how could anyone raise a child that does that? But since I am in a new place, I'm not really in a place to pass judgment, even though my thoughts on the matter are pretty defined. I know Save is a sweet kid that was raised well. Just another interesting cultural disconnect that I haven't quite resolved...

In other news, my aunt has now made me 3 dresses. Of course they stick the kid who never wears any dresses with the host family who loves making dresses. I tried explaining to my host mom that at home, some of my friends have never seen me in a dress. They laughed and laughed, of course, and the next day, I had another new dress. Maybe they think they are making up for lost time. It is very sweet. But I do miss pants. And ice cream for that matter.

My host mom at lunch today de-husked and cracked a coconut in about 25 seconds. It was incredible. She first slammed it against a sharpened piece of re-bar, then held the inner cocounut in her hand and whacked it with a huge knife, caught the coconut juice in a cup, and whacked it once more to cut it cleanly in half. It was probably the most impressive thing I have yet seen here in Fiji. She tells me she'll teach me how one day, but we shall see. Amazing.

sega ni kila

So here I am! Don't really know where to start, so I'll focus on a few areas I've been thinking a lot about since I got here.

My host family is wonderful -- my "mom" Adi Sala, and three boys (ages 12, 14, 16) who are really helping me with the language. There is also a woman who lives there, and am still not entirely sure how she is related to the family, but she does most of the cooking and spends the days weaving floor mats (ibes). My first night was great. At dinner at the house, they asked me what state I was from, and I said "New Mexico." Then they said "Mexico? You have swine flu?" A few minutes later a frog hopped across the kitchen floor (totally normal). Then they handed me a cracker with ants crawling across it and I could only graciously accept, flicking off some of the ants (I've gotten really used to this!). I had cucumbers and lettuce, and they handed me the "tomato sauce" (ketchup) and insisted I use it as a kind of "dressing." Even a few days later this all seems pretty normal. I'm surprised how fast it's taken me to get comfortable here.

Pets don't really exist here. All animals are, for the most part, treated like animals. My host family has "va pussy lailai loaloa" (4 black kittens) but they do not feed them. As my host mother Adi Sala explains, cats can catch their own food (dogs can't, and are thus fed). Certainly the house is free of rats and lizards (unlike many of the other houses in my village). However, the cats still look emaciated and underdeveloped. It is hard to step back and realize this is not my problem to fix. It helps to try to view the cats within the Fijian cultural framework -- after all, people are most important, and certainly Fijians take care of each other very well. It also helps to think of my three overly loved and overly fed cats at home. That's not to say I don't sneak them some fish when no one is looking...

I saw my first pineapple plant! It rises from the center of long sharp spear-like leaves. Actually, it looks like someone just tossed a pineapple into a yucca. There are also many cool plants that grow along the roads through my village -- papaya trees, banana trees, mango trees, casava, taro, coconut trees, chiles, etc etc...

Two nights ago my host mom brought the tailor over to the house and took my measurements for a "jaba" because she knew I was going into the city the next day (a jaba is a two-piece decorative floral dress that all the older ladies wear!). The next morning, she was up at 6am ironing it for me (!). So, I wore it that day into town (the day we meet with our entire group plus all staff, and also the only day we can be more relaxed in what we wear). I was definitely the only one wearing a full-on jaba but I did receive lots of compliments! I was really touched she did that for me.

Running out of time here at the cafe -- I'll try to post more soon.
Sending much love!

where even is fiji?

Like, in the middle of the ocean, right? I guess I'll find out soon enough.

I'm trying to figure out the best medium to share this experience with anyone who wants to keep updated.  And blogging is so hip.  So, I'll try it for awhile, and see how it goes...

At the moment, I'm trying to push all logic and reason out of my head and instead try to focus on the tiniest, most minute details of now.  Like how the sun is hitting the grape vines out the window, leaving little delicate shadows on the ground.  And how I can faintly hear Jim Lehrer echoing around the kitchen.  Because, if I don't, and skip even one second ahead, the enormity of the moment escapes me, and I feel so lost!  

But isn't it comforting to think of life in such microscopic moments?  How each day is just an opportunity for new smells, tastes, sights, sounds, and surfaces to touch? How change is constant, and not something to fear.  How it should be embraced!  Change is new material to digest.  A chance for stretching our little eyes and ears and brains in new directions...