Fijian funerals, food and the sting in my tail!

I arrived in Fiji to sunshine and a week booked at the Smugglers Cove resort, supposedly new, but has been open since 2004. I was really tired our first night and nearly fell asleep during dinner. I woke up the next day and felt dreadful- a Fijian flu coming on. I passed out for a day or two, while my disappearing boyfriend went back to the vilage to submit his view on how the village soli should be spent. I recovered enough for another dinner and then found myself wiped out for a week, so much for cuddles, closeness and hot sex!
We kept waiting to hear the date of Simon's funeral and I told Chita we had to be there. So last Thursday we caught a van back to Votua, and I booked us a room at Vilisite's restaurant in room 3. The last time we saw Simon he had stayed there and I remember him sitting outside the room, sitting on the day bed with a guitar in hand and crooning. I then looked in my wardrobe to find something black to wear. Only a black zip top and a purple sulu I had bought spontaneously.
I had rung Vilisite's and was told there was a room,but of course it was double booked.
Grey clouds, and rain were not what I expected so Chita ran off to ask Dege if we could stay at his house on the hill in Korolevu for a night. Yes, no problem. I threw my paltry effort at funeral garb together, while Simon's kids who were also staying there scrubbed up into black gear for the girls and black sulus and crisp white shirts for his strapping sons. Dege dropped us off at Vilisites while he and Chita disappeared to prepare the funeral.
I had asked Chita what a Fijian funeral was all about, and as usual the master of the understatement had responded with 'well there will be a ceremony'.
When?
Between 3- 4 pm.
Okay. I joined Simon's first wife Donna and her partner, Sam, and two of the girlfriends to wait for the hearse to arrive from Suva. Simon had died on Friday and Fijians are usually buried quickly as the body tends to swell. Lora had found out she could get him embalmed for $150 so he would last three days and maybe up to three weeks.Simon's last wish was to be buried beside his father in his village of Namose in the interior. Usually family decides so Lora had a battle on her hands to convince them all. Luke the eldest son presented a savusavu to the elders, and then passed over the discussion to Lora. Usually the wife sits at home and waits for family and friends to come and share their condolences, but not kavalagi Lora. She was rushing off the day of the funeral to get a huge kava bowl to use for visitors. She picked the coffin and the hearse and got him embalmed. Unheard of.
We received a phone call saying the hearse had arrived. We stepped through the puddles and continuing rain to enter Watson and Asela's house. I found a wall to lean against as I cannot sit crosslegged for long, and then waited for the ceremony to begin. What I was not prepared for is how the family respond to the death. His sisters who range from 50 - 75 come forward on hands and knees to the coffin and start crying, screaming, wailing and falling onto the coffin. They all take turns to 'let it all out' as Chita describes it.
There were a group of Australian men who were seated on a bench at the back and I could see their surprise. We all had tears in our eyes. However, what I was not prepared for was that there was a glass window in the top of the coffin so everyone can take one last look. I couldn't. I froze. I didn't want to see a stiff.
An hour and a half later the ceremony finally begins and I have already changed sitting position a dozen times- this was going to be an ordeal. The ceremony was quite simple - testimonials from Luke, Simon's eldest son who kept it simple and told us all to remember two things about his dad; a clan member, an old man who cried and gave a heart felt speech in Fijian. Lora gave a great eulogy and when Simon's three sons and daughters moved towards the coffin; that's when I lost it. I was moved.
The local church choir held us all together by singing eloquent and uplifting hymns in Fijian.
My only sore point of the day, was the preacher. Simon did not go to church so despite being a good man, Lora's eulogy was wiped out by the fact that we are all sinners and will go to hell. Even if we are good and lead a good life, God is the way. I was quietly simmering...
I had to stand up for the final hymn and wondered if I could bend my creaky bones. I then discovered I had to sit down again and listen to another hymn before I could stand up, and go outside.
Chita was manning the lovo outside. He didn't want to come in. He was too sad. He and I both agreed we didn't want to look in the coffin.
I went back inside to discover that the coffin had been moved back, a band was set up in a seated position and 'Candle in the wind' was playing. At the back of the room, were the ladies with a table set up and bain maries full of curry, tomato chicken, and beef chopsuey. Special guests were offered prawns and lobster. We sat all together and shared our last meal with Simon. I lasted until about 9.30 and then my back was killing me.
I said goodbye to Chita as he was going to join the funeral party the next morning at around 4 am and transport Simon to the far side - Namose. I was exhausted, coughing my lungs up and needing to be horizontal. I have been to Melita, the closest village to Namose and that is just achievable. A hike through the mountains, along a ridge, knee deep in mud for one and a half hours, was not on my agenda. Chita did it for us both.
The coffin was put in a truck and taken to Navua, then onto a long boat up the Navua river for a couple of hours. The coffin and guests all rested at Melita before the climb. Chita told me what an amazing sight it was to watch groups of strong Fijian men running with the coffin up the mountain. The slow walkers left before them and turned around to see rotating groups of men, taking the coffin, strapped to a bamboo stretcher up a mountain in thick, sucking mud. Once in Namose, there was another ceremony and Simon was buried. Chita looked in the glass, and noticed Simon's head was flung back, after his jog up the mountain... he knew how hard it is to get to Namose, but he wanted everyone to do it, and remember him. They will never forget that journey.
Two Fijian kids had got lost on the way up. There is no road, only a sort of track, and they had ended up going around in circles. One of the girls had broken a branch and in two hours they kept coming back to the branch. Chita and Dege, went looking for them and found an arrow in a mud bank along the river, followed that for a couple of hours and found them and brought them back to Melita.
Chita said that when he got back to Navua, every muscle in his body was trembling. Lora had collapsed on the mountain after a week of funeral preparations, grief and no sleep. A group of four Fijians carried her down.
Wish I could have seen it all- what an awesome adventure (Simon's words).
I contributed my part to the funeral last night by cooking dinner for Lora and her daughter Rebecca in Suva. We heard some hilarious stories from Lora and listened to her grieve.
This morning my love disappears yet again and I am left to check my bank account to see if the visa payment has come out of my credit card account- no. I decide to ring John the agent and yet again find myself in a conversation with a short man who gives no reasonable explanation as to why the visa has not been lodged. I have sent emails stating what documents I am collecting to add to the visa lodgement, and no reply. He appeared not to have read any of my emails, so either his wife is the only one who does, or he is incompetent. However, he brow beat me yet again saying, I have been doing this job for a long time. A few days won't matter. I am so frustrated. No lodgement, no payment, no reference code so I can submit the remaining documents.
What does this man do for his money?
I did not even walk away from the phone with a day, and time of lodgement ......
God give me strength!