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...