Moce- love and goodbyes

Two weeks ago at a rugby function a member of the Fijian community in Tasmania approached my husband to talk about this blog, stating that I had shamed him, his village and his clan.
A week ago we were both at a birthday party for a member of the Fijian community here in Tasmania and I realised at the end of the night I had been ostracised by the Fijians. No one had made eye contact and no one had greeted me. I got up at the end of the night to say goodbye to two wives and they flinched when I kissed them goodbye. Was I imagining it?
Friday night my husband was called to a kava session by the Fijian males in Tasmania who told him they found the blog offensive.
He told me the next day. I ranted and raved about freedom of speech. I was also dumbfounded. In Fiji I would be invited to attend a village meeting and have my say. In Australia someone would have rung me to say 'There's a problem; lets talk about it".
I rang one of the members of the community to ask him why he had approached my husband and not me. We decided.... was his reply.
Who are you to decide? was my prompt reply.
As a member of the Fijian community I have a right to be told. To me their actions are not the act of friendship. I have known these people for a number of years; they know me, and they have chosen to think ill of me. Surprising.
I have terminated my association with this bunch of mean, narrow and small minded peope, even if they are Fijian and their wives are Australian. We know who our real Fijian friends are.
However, all Fijians are interconnected so my husband has found my decision difficult.
He has also asked me to terminate this blog. I am doing it out of a profound respect for his culture, and the deepest love for the man who met me by accident five years ago. This was always intended to be a story of love and our journey to get him to Australia.
This world is not perfect. People are not perfect. This life is a struggle to overcome obstacles and find joy. I have found joy in my relationship with this wonderful man who acted honorably on Friday night, stood by his wife, and faced his community and said ' no' - a difficult action for a tribal community with huge pressure to conform.
I finish this blog, with the whole reason for writing it in the first place- how I fell in love with my husband. This is a short story I wrote for a competition called 'Coconut Crush'


Coconut Crush
Completely unaware of the slow, steady drip running down her left arm, Angelina grips the telephone tightly. A stream of dark, unctuous chocolate slips through her fingertips and glides across the back of her hand; swirling around her wrist and falling in droplets down her arm.
In her right hand is a sheaf of paper, full of words that bite, scratch and tear at her heart.
‘Why are they doing this to me?’
Her bewildered gaze falls on the washed Huon pine refectory table in front of her. Ten pages of vitriol now lie in an unwieldy pile. A fluorescent yellow and red express envelope still glares at her. Strewn across it are a scrunched up ruby, sky blue and white wrappers, a half eaten bar of almond chocolate and nearby a small Spanish green ceramic bowl with a scattering of remaining rainbow coloured sweets.
Directly in front of her, a long elegant spoon awaits. Beside it a gleaming crystal glass of ginger infused chocolate mousse with swirls of wafer thin chocolates on top continue to beckon.
The droning voice causes her to dip her finger into the glass and quickly suck in the sweetness, blocking out the unpleasant sound.
‘Write a letter! Okay I will write a letter. Ciao!’ She hangs up leaving a chocolaty smudge on the phone.
The phone rings again. Licking the drips on her finger, she picks up, only to find it’s her close friend Elise.
‘I’ve booked two tickets to Fiji!’
‘Mamma mia! You have done what?’ Angelina exclaims.
‘You are not going to sit there stewing about a court case that may never happen. You are coming with me!
‘But I always spend time here with mamma!’
‘You are coming!’
‘Va bene! Only if you come over and help me eat this delizioso chocolate mousse I have been testing. It has a taste of the tropics – glace ginger folded through rich, creamy chocolate, mousse, a puddle of refreshing mango and passionfruit as a base. We can discuss the trip while we eat.’
She hangs up again.
Angelina glances down at her turquoise blue peasant skirt, realizing a rivulet of chocolate has now formed tributaries in the folds.
Sweeping the evidence of her unhappiness into a bin, she quickly resets the table with two champagne flutes, checks that a bottle of champagne is suitably chilled and places two crimson place mats on the table. Searching through her kitchen drawers, she finds two white linen napkins. Opening the French doors to the garden Angelina takes a pair of shears to cut pink magnolia flowers to scatter across the table. Satisfied with the impromptu arrangement she jumps into the shower, washing off suffocating anxiety and fear, and emerging ….
Where have I left my passport from my last trip overseas?
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Enveloped in a blanket of warm air, her tiny white shell necklace nestled around her neck, Angelina is directed to the coach taking her to the Coral Coast. Her companion Elise’s head quickly slides onto her shoulder. While everyone dozes on the bus, Angelina’s eyes focus on the mountains; the sleeping giant coming quickly into view. Dusty roads, potholes, brilliant sunshine and Fijian students in crisp white shirts, and formal navy-blue sulu or sarongs, waiting at the bus stop for a ride to school or walking along the road; she can’t sleep.
The hotel room is not ready upon arrival so Angelina and Elise saunter towards the breakfast buffet. Sitting at heavy square tables, with napkins decorated with tapa motifs, and the whir of ceiling fans above their heads Angelina was feeling excited.
One look at the range of food on display and her appetite quickly left her. Frayed, desiccated pancakes with brown bananas, fried eggs sitting congealed in a bain-marie, indigestible white bread only for toast, and the jams were strawberry and apricot.
Where was the pile of tropical fruit she had seen on the road side stalls along the highway –pyramids of green oranges called moli, watermelon whole and sliced into mouth-watering chunks, fragrant paw paws and mangoes to bite into and watch the sweetness drip down your chin.
‘I will head for the pool and sleep’ she thought. Eyelids fluttering, Angelina relaxes on the blue sun bed she has managed to find beside the pool. She pulls it back under the palm tree.
‘I am going for a walk’ says Elise. Elise is a tall, statuesque blonde, who is full of energy and moves at a lightning pace during her working week and even now on holiday wants to see it all, and tick off her mental checklist of what a holiday in the tropics should be.
Si, si,,,,, mutters Angelina, as she drifts into sleep.
Lawyers, letters sent and more letters in reply, and more paper wasted had left her exhausted. Fiji for a holiday had sounded like the perfect escape.
I don’t have to think about it anymore. I have done all I can.
She drifts into a dreamless sleep that washes over her, and allows her body to relax completely.

‘I can’t believe she has abandoned me already!’
Elise is sitting working on her tan in a swirling orange and pink tankini, her long legs dipping into the pool as she tells Angelina’s love story to other guests seated at the pool bar, while slurping on an endless gin and tonic.
I left Angelina lying on a sun bed while I walked down the beach. At the end of the resort is a brightly coloured collection of handicraft stalls you know. Have any of you been there? Yes well, there were five or six Fijian women sitting braiding hair and putting out stuff for sale.
I boldly asked ‘Does anyone feel like cooking with my friend Angelina? She is a great cook and she wants to learn about Fijian food”.
One of the ladies smiled and said ‘I will”
Her name is Tamia and she asked me to bring Angelina to meet her so I arranged a time later in the afternoon. They met, and Saturday at ten was the set time.
I had had a big night with my handsome Fijian waiters from the Italian restaurant the night before so I rolled over and told Angelina she could go alone.
She didn’t want to, but I had already booked a taxi which was waiting in the foyer.
She found herself at the bottom of a road leading up a hill. Beside the entrance was a thatched bure with seats; she could see other tin houses through the trees but she couldn’t work out where she had to go.
‘Angelina, Angelina’ a group of children rushed down the hill to meet her, took her by the hand and pulled her up the hill to auntie’s house. She had one kg of kava to give to the head of the household as a gift and sign of respect to the family.
Entering a wooden house with a tin roof, mats on the floor, Angelina met the big smile of Tamia.
She was stirring a pot of river prawns in coconut milk, turning a delicate shade of pink.
‘Come! Try some!’
The rich coconut milk slid down her throat feeling its way towards her stomach releasing a feeling of content.
This was more like it - Real Fijian food, authentic Fijian food cooked at home.
She looked around and Josefa, a young Fijian with an Aussie accent held up some big grey scaly fish he had caught on the reef early in the morning.
‘How do you want to cook these Angelina?’
‘With fresh garlic, fresh red chillies and plenty of lime juice’ replied Angelina.
Elei Angelina! You must be Fijian to cook like that!
Outside the bure, a broad shouldered ebony skinned Fijian male called Ula was digging a hole. He put some stones in the bottom and lit a fire. When the stones were red hot, and the wood had disappeared into a layer of charcoal, he started throwing hand-made baskets of threaded palm leaves filled with marinated chops, whole chickens and sausages onto the rocks.
‘Eh Angelina, do you want to help?’
‘Yes, yes what can I do?’
‘Here is a coconut scraper; Seleti over there will show you how to do it.’
Angelina turned around to see a tall and very handsome Fijian with an extra white smile beaming at her.
‘Come, come’, he beckoned her over. He was sitting on the edge of the bank on a box with a pointed metal scraper attached. Taking the coconut with both hands he turned the coconut slowly so that the milky white contents fall into a big pot below.
‘Tamia will make a Fijian speciality – polisami- which are taro leaf parcels filled with coconut and tomato or tinned fish or corn beef.’
Seleti made it look easy but Angelina found it quite hard to hitch her green peasant skirt, maintain modesty and do what he was doing.
I arrived late to see Angelina surrounded by kids laughing.
We were invited into the house to sit down either side of a long aqua tablecloth with a mixture of plates and cutlery set out along it.
Angelina was looking for somewhere to sit, so that she could prop herself up against a wall, but the cloth was in the middle of the room.
Seleti called to her ‘Come and lie down and eat. In Fiji, it’s not a problem.’
They laughed and joked all afternoon. He offered her a plate of roast pork saying’ In Fiji the head of the family is offered the best part of the pig, he will take a portion and then send it back to his wife to eat. The men and invited guests, seated at the top of the cloth, eat first and then the women, who are seated at the other end of the cloth with the cooking pot beside them, wait until everyone else has eaten and then they eat. It’s a way of communicating love and respect between a man and his wife.’
Do you know what he told her next? The best part of a man is a woman! She fell for it all.
I was trying to tell Josefa a story and Seleti was leaning towards Angelina the whole time whispering ‘Angelina what are you doing? Do you want to come and visit the coral reef restoration project with me tomorrow?’
They were looking at each other and not listening to me. ‘Can you believe it?’
Our taxi arrived at four and as we were walking down the hill and Seleti calls out to Angelina – ‘How many children do you want to have?’
‘At least five!’
They both laugh and Seleti calls out again ‘See you tomorrow at ten’
‘Si si or should I say ‘io!’ replies Angelina. ‘Io’ means ‘yes’ in Fijian, she informs me. I nudge Angelina in the back of the car.
‘He likes you, you know’
‘No he doesn’t’
‘Oh yes he does!’
‘How do you know?’
‘By the way he was looking at you’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I have had no man in my life for a long time. I wouldn’t know if a man was looking at me or not.’
‘Believe me, he was looking’.
Angelina blushed and turned away. ‘I don’t believe you Elise.’
You are wondering of course, where she is right now.
Well she is down the beach with her tall Fijian lover –her Greystoke, the jungle boy, the untamed one.....lucky girl!

Angelina was indeed sitting on the white sand of the marine protected area talking to Seleti while he packed up his gear.
Che giornata! What a day!
It had all started strangely. She had dragged herself out of bed and had prodded Elise. ‘Are you coming with me or not?’
‘No, you are going it alone’.
‘Va bene’
Elise calls out ‘The taxi is waiting for you upstairs’ as I leave the room. I decide to wear a long skirt as I had been told by Seleti that Fijian women cover their arms and legs. This Fijian custom is a little strange to me as it’s so hot! In Italy everyone would be in a bikini flaunting whatever they have got... Ah but I am always forgetting the strong influence of the Methodists here who taught the natives to cover up. I must show respect.
I arrive at Mara at around ten to find no one around. I walk towards the nearest bure calling out ‘Seleti, Seleti’ but no one answers.
I see a bunch of Fijian guys walking towards me with machetes in their hands, heading towards the plantation and I hear ‘Bula! Bula!
I quickly ask ‘ Seleti, do you know where he is’.
One of them disappears into a house and beckons for me to come in and sit down to wait.
I wait and wait and wait. I don’t know for how long… Mamma Mia! I am sitting here on a chair still waiting.
Josefa appears.
‘Sorry Angelina, Fiji time! Let’s go down the beach.’
Sono confusa. Here is Josefa, but where is Seleti?
We walk down the Queen’s highway towards the marine protected area. We walk along the white sandy beach and I take off my shoes so I can feel the crunch of the sand under my feet. We find a protected bay, with a pile of rocks.
Josefa disappears again while I sit on the sand again wondering what is going on. I watch the tiny white hermit crabs scurry across the beach. It looks like the shells are moving in a parade across the sand and I begin laughing to myself.
The heat of the sun on my back, the water of the lagoon changing from aqua to deep blue in the channels, the roar of the waves as they pound on the outer reef, and the sway of the palm trees above my head.
I close my eyes again and relax. Josefa reappears again with three green coconuts.
Eh Angelina, do you want a drink?
I take in his big machete about to slice through the coconut and gulp ‘Si, si, I mean io”
‘Here is a green coconut for you to drink. It will give you energy.’
Angelina stands up to drink and the clear coconut juice spills into her mouth and down her neck. It’s refreshing.
Josefa hands her a piece of fresh coconut. ‘Eat this; it will keep you satisfied for the next couple of hours while we swim.’
Groping around for her sunglasses, Angelina, sees a tall, lanky figure slowly walking towards her. She sees the ripped pale blue jeans, the bare feet and the water glistening on his torso. It’s Seleti carrying a net bag over his shoulder.
Seleti smiles and Angelina feels warm inside. He’s here at last.
‘Where have you been?
‘I went out to check some coral before coming here.’
‘Come’. He takes Angelina by the hand. ‘Do you want to look around before we swim?
He grabs her hand, and they step off the beach onto a grown over pathway which heads towards the point.
‘I have had a dream for five years to build a café on the beach here. What do you think? I can clear the trees; make a two storey wooden house with a deck looking out over the lagoon. People will love to come here, don’t you think?
Angelina looks around her at the lush green of the tropical forest, the coconut palms bending in the breeze, orange lines etched into their trunks revealing their age, the fish leaping in the lagoon and the white waves crashing on the edge of the reef.
‘Why not?’
‘You really think so?’
‘Will you help me?’
Why not? Angelina had plenty of experience in food and wine and could already see a café with a coffee machine and a barbecue on the side for grilling fresh fish.
‘You can get the local boys growing fruit, vegetables and fresh herbs for the café.’
‘Enough! Let’s go and visit the coral reef.’
At the water’s edge Seleti turns to Angelina ’Look at the waves Angelina, when they have white tops; we say they are smiling at you. The movement of the tides is the sea breathing life into the waves that touch the shore. The pull of the tides is the heart beat of the sea.
‘Josefa will take you on a snorkelling tour, while I swim out to the rack on the edge of the reef. You can join me there.’
Josefa takes her on an underwater journey. They swim past seaweed beds, along corridors of dead coral, which open out into a glittering sea garden. Tiny fish of every colour combination possible dart in and out. She swims over big white and brown sea slugs lying on the seafloor. Clown fish swim around her mask.
Josefa points to the surface, and then says ’Watch out for the fire coral Angelina! Don’t touch!”
Crabs clamber over coral, a big conga eel pokes his head out for a look, a reef shark appears in a deep water chasm, Angelina quickly swims over the top of him.
At the edge of the lagoon are sea racks for fast growing corals. Seleti is standing in chest high water, counting the corals. Concrete cones are filled with special putty and a small piece of coral is planted. The cones are left on the sea rack for five to six months and the corals grow big enough to be replanted on other reefs around the Pacific.
Angelina puts her mask on and dips her face underwater to see tiny blue fish on each coral cone, nibbling the algae growing there.
‘What do you think of my sea garden Angelina?’
‘Bello! Beautiful.’
‘I have brought these cones out to grow, and I will write your name in coral across the reef? What do you think Angelina?’
‘Grazie!’
Angelina turns around but Josefa has gone. She can see his flippers in the distance.
‘Come, Angelina, take my hand, I will show you my world and then take you back? Okay?’
‘Io!’
On the return trip all she remembers is his smile, how he made her laugh a lot, how she felt when he held her hand.
Sitting in the shallows trying to remove her flippers, Seleti in his very quiet voice beckons ‘Angelina, come here. I want to show you a trick I learnt on Turtle Island? Come into deeper water and sit of my lap. I will take your flippers off for you.’ ‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’
Feeling so close, Angelina looks up at Seleti and feels each flipper being flicked off her foot and tossed to shore.
Arms come around her waist and she is pulled closer
A kiss - A long slow kiss! Angelina, feels warmth shooting through her body. He does like me.
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Sitting on the bus heading back to the airport, Angelina’s brain was in a whir. What am I going to do? I like him, but I don’t know him.I have work to do back in Australia; I need to look after mamma. I have this court case to attend to. I don’t have time for love. I am too busy.
Elise taps her on the arm saying ‘Angelina, why didn’t you stay? You could have booked another week at the hotel, and you would still be lying in the arms of your jungle boy.’
In Angelina’s lap is a scrunched up wrapper from a chocolate bar, the tropical heat causing chocolate splotches across her bright pink summer dress. She quickly licks her fingers as the chocolate melts in her hand.
‘Sei pazza! You are crazy. I can’t do that. I don’t know what I am doing? I like him but why is this happening to me. Italy is where I want to be. This is just a holiday romance. I am crazy to think about making a life here. What can I do? How can I bring a jungle boy back to Australia? It’s too much! I don’t want to think about it anymore!’
A flash of their last morning together and Angelina was remembering trying to dress quickly. She pulled on jeans and a t-shirt to catch the van with Seleti into town to pick up some souvenirs for family and friends – jangly coconut bracelets, fans and other paraphenalia.
He held her hand as they walked around Sigatoka. Around him, she feels still, safe and secure.
Plenty of Fijians call out or stop Seleti asking ‘Eh Seleti, we have not seen you around for a long time! Who is this?’
It’s hot, steamy and humid. Sweat causes her jeans to stick, and her t-shirt to feel like gladwrap. She twists her hair into a coconut clip so that the warm droplets of body water forming on her neck can evaporate.
‘My girlfriend Angelina’
Angelina smiles at the memory. Her breath tightens as she remembers saying goodbye. Seleti had jumped out of the van at this village to run down to his house to get a pen to write his post box and telephone number. They had quickly exchange numbers and he shook hands with her saying ‘Angelina. Good bye. I hope to see you soon. I will miss you.’
Angelina wanted to hug him so badly but public displays of affection are not allowed.
‘I will miss you too.’ Tears run down Angelina’s cheeks as he bus winds its way up a hill heading towards Nadi airport.
‘I will come back, I promise.’ she whispers to the sleeping giant resting his head, to the palm trees, to the aquamarine waters of Denarau and to a tall quiet Fijian man who had stolen her heart. A new business and a new life with this man await. She opens the note he had thrust in her hand and there was a picture of a Fijian bure with a deck amid swaying coconut palms, two stick figures – Angelina and Seleti- smiling together, holding hands together.

Ginger scented chocolate mousse
with mango and passionfruit.

Serves 6

1 egg
2 egg yolks
100gr caster sugar
175 dark, milk or white chocolate melted and kept warm
60 gr of glace ginger, finely chopped, syrup reserved
1 ½ cups thickened cream whisked to soft peaks
Pulp of 6 passionfruit
1 large mango (approx 460 gr))

1. Combine egg and egg yolks in an electric mixer and whisk at high speed for five minutes or until pale and fluffy.
2. Combine sugar and 1/3 cup of water in a small saucepan and stir over a medium heat to dissolve sugar, then bring back to boil and cook until syrup reaches hard ball stage ( 121 degrees on a sugar thermometer).
3. Reduce mixer to a low speed and add syrup to egg mixture in a thin steady stream and then increase speed to high speed and whisk for 5-7 minutes or until completely cold.
4. Fold in the chocolate, then the glace ginger and cream.
5. Combine the passionfruit pulp and two teaspoonfuls of syrup from the glace ginger in a small bowl.
6. Divide the mango among serving glasses, spoon over passionfruit syrup then spoon the chocolate mousse over fruit and refrigerate for one hour or until set.
7. Scatter with chocolate curls and serve immediately.