Thank you to a generous offer from Linda, an American I think. I have been so busy writing blogs I have not had time to read all the comments. Can not contact you as I have no email address to respond to- you are marked as anonymous. Please email me when you get a chance.
Have just arrived back after two weeks with my beloved. We spent two weeks - one in Nadi and one in Suva, with me getting him used to what it will be like when we live together. The first place I chose was a resort full of backpackers and as we are not in that 20's age group we did not lounge around the pool. Chita hates swimming other than for fishing purposes anyway.
Any thought of a romantic stroll down the beach at sunset- a western concept has to be taught
Look, what a beautiful sunset darling!
Yes, replies Fijian male.
Now you need to put your arms around me and kiss me.
Why?
This is called a romantic moment.
Okay, but only if no one is looking....
It was nice to be alone and get used to being intimate with each other. I am talking holding hands, and just playing around. Fijian culture does not allow affection in public, so its also something that Fijian males have to get used to.
To wake him up one afternoon I gently stroked his back. He did not open his eyes to respond, as he said to me later ' No one has ever done that to me before and I really liked it'.
We also cooked dinner at least 2-3 nights in Suva. Chita is great at food preparation, and really enjoyed discussing with me what we could eat for dinner. I would shop and he would prepare. Then I would cook and he would clean up! Perfect for me. He also liked sitting at a table and talking over dinner - whereas back in the village, food is laid out on a long cloth, people come and go, and when you have finished your food, you can up and leave..... I am holding firm on eating together at the same time and talking during dinner. A whole new concept.
We also dined at a few different restaurants. He and I went to a great Indian in Nadi, where you ordered a tray filled with tandoori prawns or duck curry, with accompaniments, rice and roti. We also ended up at the Outer Reef Cafe in Namaka, which I would recommend to anyone visiting Namaka. It did not look much from the outside, so I walked down a long corridor and we emerged into a garden full of lights with a band and lots of friendly, smiling staff. Yes.... I ordered garlic prawns with a baby leaf salad - yes it is possible, and Chita had a kaiviti fish basket which was full of crumbed and battered fish. I should have ordered grilled for my boy.
Fijians have a tendency to run into people, and join them for whatever they are doing in that moment. In fact Fijians live in the here and now, so they get caught up in whatever happens. I arrange to meet Chita at the MH supermarket where I am purchasing ingredients for dinner. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes pass and he has not turned up. He has the card to enter our room. I am pissed off. I lug the shopping back, arrange for one of the boys in the front office to let me into our room and then search around for a phone card so I can ring him.
Where are you?
I am with friends?
What are you doing?
I just ran into someone and they asked me to come for a ride. I will be back at 6 pm.
Why didn't you come back and tell me that instead of leaving me standing outside the supermarket in the rain for half an hour.
You are a big girl Amanda, you can figure this out. You know where we are staying, stop being a baby....
I fumed for an hour and when he returned unleashed the beast.
In my culture, not telling someone where you are going is rude.
Not telling me what you wanted to do - is rude.
Leaving me standing at the MH in the rain - is rude.
He storms off. However, he cannot go far, as we have a room with adjoining balcony and he is looking down on Suva town from six stories up.
Chita you can't keep doing this to me.
I am sorry.
Its a bit hard to get into the routine of telling me everything when I am not around for three to four months at a time and he does whatever he wants, whenever he wants...
However, I have to get him used to deadlines and being punctual. Its obligatory in my culture, although working in horticulture and landscaping, things might be a bit more relaxed.
The last night we were together in Nadi at Smugglers. He goes for a run down the beach and I go for a walk. We meet up in the middle.
Did you see those guys with the net going fishing, I would like to go back and spend some time with them.
No problem.
I better have a shower first.
He heads back to the room, showers, changes into mozzie proof clothes, long pants and a checked shirt.
I watch a polynesian show on the balcony while he goes fishing with the boys.
I will be back in time for dinner he says.
I wait, and I wait and I wait. The show finishes at 8 pm and at 8.30 pm I am getting tetchy as that is our dinner time. At 8.50 pm I walk out of the resort, passing a Staff member Ratu and say
If you see Chita, tell him I am at the Horizon's backpacker having dinner by myself.
he grins at me, and says 'of course'.
At 9.10 pm I see my tall, gangly boy outside the restaurant door.
Bad choice Chita.
Amanda what is wrong?
He has no sense of occasion and how girls need to feel on their last night.
You said you were coming back to have dinner. You left at 7 and come back two hours later. Its not on Chita. I am not spending my life sitting around and waiting for you all the time.
Amanda I went into the resort, and I was running around asking everyone where you had gone.
Did you ask Ratu?
He didn't tell me until I had spent ten minutes running around. He was laughing hard.
Do you get it Chita?
Yes.
I know I am a hard woman. However I am a cook, a generous hostess, and a lover of good food and wine. Wining and dining is my supreme pleasure, and I couldn't handle being back in Tassie waiting and waiting for my Fijian boy to arrive. For me, its disrespectful to the chef or person cooking for us, to be late....
Its my one strong code of conduct.....
Why Oh whY did I pick a Fijian to fall in love with.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Births, deaths and accidents!
I have waited four months to come to Fiji, bringing the last of the paperwork so we can submit a prospective spouse visa. I had engaged an immigration agent in Melbourne, who somehow was constantly offended by me asking questions. I was having great difficulty discussing anything with him so on my one and only visit to see him in Melbourne I took support. He kept trying to interrupt me, wouldn't listen and I have eventually figured out, that I was supposed to let him handle it all, with no discussion and no questions asked. Saving the $2,500 for the agent has been a challenge and then not being able to talk has been extremely frustrating. I had put together too much information; in fact enough information for a spouse visa. I had spent three months collecting information and cajoling my reluctant family to sign letters and to attach certified pages of their passports.
My opening question to my agent was:
If the Australian High commission does close, and the Australian employees return to Australia, what will happen to our application?
I dont' know.
Not a very encouraging response. I have been pissed off because I know he hasn't read our paperwork, and yet I had paid the initial installment of $1250 and he was asking for complete payment before the application was lodged...... I am in the wrong job. The fact that every time I called he fobbed me off, couldn't answer me straight, was not ready with my application when I went to Melbourne, just showed that he hadn't done his job..... I was furious but contained.
He is supposedly sending it this week. I know who has done all the work; his long suffering wife. I sent an email of enquiry today to nudge him along and also to see if anything has happened. I have passport photos and a couple of letters to add to the application, which I need to submit next week while Chita and I are in Suva.
Anyhow, I have been in Nadi since Saturday staying at the Smugglers Cove resort; apparently a new resort according to Wotif.com but opened in 2003 apparently. The room is great but the tv doesn't work. How strange! I asked if it would be fixed on Sunday. No the security guard isn't here yet. He arrives and tells Chita that there is something wrong with the dish. Monday, I ask again - Oh yes the electrician will be here at 5 pm if it doesn't improve give us a call. Another night with black and white flickering images.
Last night Chita and I lay in bed listening to the radio and singing to each other a range of songs from Kenny Rogers, to Crowded House to sappy love songs. Chita knows all the words.
At the airport Chita asked me:
Have you talked to Lora yet?
No why?
Simon is dead.
Just like that, one of the most handsome, gentle, loving, caring and YOUNG Australian Fijian men that I know is gone. I was in shock.
How?
Heart failure I think.
I spent the weekend thinking about this man who had been so encouraging to Chita and me during our early courtship - Amanda, you just need to keep talking, and then you both will work it out- to telling Chita, when we opened the cafe - I am so proud of you Chita. Keep going!
I keep thinking about the first time I met him. He was walking along the beach with a fish, and a big smile.
Hey you must be Simon!
Yes and you are Amanda Chita's girlfriend.
Yes the bush telegraph is fast here. You always meet someone and figure out how they are related to you.
Chita and I have stayed a few times at Vilisite's, Simon's older sister's bungalows over the years. Simon would always be there, sitting outside with his guitar, and a big slow smile.
I remember being invited to a reunion he organised between two sides of his family. It was a great day. I hopped on a bus to Natandola beach and we stepped off into the village, and were swept into houses for morning tea, a church service, a walk and paddle along the beach before a huge lovo lunch. Then singing, dancing and lots of powder if I remember rightly. I was left clean as I took heaps of pictures.
I remember accompanying Simon and his family to the Sigatoka hospital to donate a wheelchair.
I remember the last time I saw Simon, I was invited to sing with Victor and Simon at Vilisite's restaurant. We started at 1.30 and sang the day away. I loved it. I have a tendency to improvise a little and was driving Simon nuts with my deviations. Victor, kept saying - don't worry about her, keep on playing...
I will miss him. He was too young. Not even 50. He had so much to give. He had just spent the last couple of years, setting up a portable saw mill business which would benefit the villages and had only received his first pay check a couple of weeks a go.
I can't believe he is gone. Chita and I are going back to the village tomorrow. There will be a ceremony at Naibale, and his body will be laid out for one night, then Friday, they will take his body by boat up river to his village in the interior. It was raining a lot yesterday so we are hoping it will stop so that they can get him to his last resting place. His partner Lora is here, in Suva today, talking business, all his kids, and even his ex-wife is here to honour him.
Death brings all together to remember. I have to be there tomorrow, and remember a good friend.
Over this weekend, heaps of accidents have occurred. Tamo and John (who was last looking clean and a member of AA) got drunk and swung at each other. Phylis' canoe now has a big hole in it.
A group of Votuan boys hired a car and went for a joy ride. They got drunk, rolled it, and it lit up like a torch. One of the boys is now in hospital in Suva with both his legs gone. Such a waste. Such carelessness....
Yesterday Chita heard on the news that a van had crashed trying to avoid a horse near Maui Bay. On that bus was an Indian guy going to Suva, to submit a visa to visit a sick aunt in hospital, who died. What wasn't mentioned was that one of Chita's cousins Marco, was on the bus, and is lying in Lautoka hospital with both hands and both legs amputated below the knee.
The front page of the Fiji Times today is all about the needless waste of life in Fiji with deaths, paraplegia, loss of limbs and fractures. A shocking statistic delivered matter of factly in the paper was the high number of children under six years of age who are killed on the road...
I have been talking to Chita about all our friends and had to ask what had happened to Kalara. the party girl. Its finally happened. She is pregnant to a married man and is in the village. So much for travelling to Australia and getting a good job.
I am here in Fiji after a long absence of four months. In this beautiful paradise, senseless things are happening. Its a time to reflect. I will try and live each day to the full. I will try to accept uncertainty as a part of my life, I will believe that our visa will happen, Chita and I are going to get a chance to have a life together which will span Fiji and Australia, and if I have my way, a trip back to Sicily next year.
I will try to quel my constant doubts; drown out the critic in my head, with singing and enjoy the next two weeks with the man who makes me happy.
My opening question to my agent was:
If the Australian High commission does close, and the Australian employees return to Australia, what will happen to our application?
I dont' know.
Not a very encouraging response. I have been pissed off because I know he hasn't read our paperwork, and yet I had paid the initial installment of $1250 and he was asking for complete payment before the application was lodged...... I am in the wrong job. The fact that every time I called he fobbed me off, couldn't answer me straight, was not ready with my application when I went to Melbourne, just showed that he hadn't done his job..... I was furious but contained.
He is supposedly sending it this week. I know who has done all the work; his long suffering wife. I sent an email of enquiry today to nudge him along and also to see if anything has happened. I have passport photos and a couple of letters to add to the application, which I need to submit next week while Chita and I are in Suva.
Anyhow, I have been in Nadi since Saturday staying at the Smugglers Cove resort; apparently a new resort according to Wotif.com but opened in 2003 apparently. The room is great but the tv doesn't work. How strange! I asked if it would be fixed on Sunday. No the security guard isn't here yet. He arrives and tells Chita that there is something wrong with the dish. Monday, I ask again - Oh yes the electrician will be here at 5 pm if it doesn't improve give us a call. Another night with black and white flickering images.
Last night Chita and I lay in bed listening to the radio and singing to each other a range of songs from Kenny Rogers, to Crowded House to sappy love songs. Chita knows all the words.
At the airport Chita asked me:
Have you talked to Lora yet?
No why?
Simon is dead.
Just like that, one of the most handsome, gentle, loving, caring and YOUNG Australian Fijian men that I know is gone. I was in shock.
How?
Heart failure I think.
I spent the weekend thinking about this man who had been so encouraging to Chita and me during our early courtship - Amanda, you just need to keep talking, and then you both will work it out- to telling Chita, when we opened the cafe - I am so proud of you Chita. Keep going!
I keep thinking about the first time I met him. He was walking along the beach with a fish, and a big smile.
Hey you must be Simon!
Yes and you are Amanda Chita's girlfriend.
Yes the bush telegraph is fast here. You always meet someone and figure out how they are related to you.
Chita and I have stayed a few times at Vilisite's, Simon's older sister's bungalows over the years. Simon would always be there, sitting outside with his guitar, and a big slow smile.
I remember being invited to a reunion he organised between two sides of his family. It was a great day. I hopped on a bus to Natandola beach and we stepped off into the village, and were swept into houses for morning tea, a church service, a walk and paddle along the beach before a huge lovo lunch. Then singing, dancing and lots of powder if I remember rightly. I was left clean as I took heaps of pictures.
I remember accompanying Simon and his family to the Sigatoka hospital to donate a wheelchair.
I remember the last time I saw Simon, I was invited to sing with Victor and Simon at Vilisite's restaurant. We started at 1.30 and sang the day away. I loved it. I have a tendency to improvise a little and was driving Simon nuts with my deviations. Victor, kept saying - don't worry about her, keep on playing...
I will miss him. He was too young. Not even 50. He had so much to give. He had just spent the last couple of years, setting up a portable saw mill business which would benefit the villages and had only received his first pay check a couple of weeks a go.
I can't believe he is gone. Chita and I are going back to the village tomorrow. There will be a ceremony at Naibale, and his body will be laid out for one night, then Friday, they will take his body by boat up river to his village in the interior. It was raining a lot yesterday so we are hoping it will stop so that they can get him to his last resting place. His partner Lora is here, in Suva today, talking business, all his kids, and even his ex-wife is here to honour him.
Death brings all together to remember. I have to be there tomorrow, and remember a good friend.
Over this weekend, heaps of accidents have occurred. Tamo and John (who was last looking clean and a member of AA) got drunk and swung at each other. Phylis' canoe now has a big hole in it.
A group of Votuan boys hired a car and went for a joy ride. They got drunk, rolled it, and it lit up like a torch. One of the boys is now in hospital in Suva with both his legs gone. Such a waste. Such carelessness....
Yesterday Chita heard on the news that a van had crashed trying to avoid a horse near Maui Bay. On that bus was an Indian guy going to Suva, to submit a visa to visit a sick aunt in hospital, who died. What wasn't mentioned was that one of Chita's cousins Marco, was on the bus, and is lying in Lautoka hospital with both hands and both legs amputated below the knee.
The front page of the Fiji Times today is all about the needless waste of life in Fiji with deaths, paraplegia, loss of limbs and fractures. A shocking statistic delivered matter of factly in the paper was the high number of children under six years of age who are killed on the road...
I have been talking to Chita about all our friends and had to ask what had happened to Kalara. the party girl. Its finally happened. She is pregnant to a married man and is in the village. So much for travelling to Australia and getting a good job.
I am here in Fiji after a long absence of four months. In this beautiful paradise, senseless things are happening. Its a time to reflect. I will try and live each day to the full. I will try to accept uncertainty as a part of my life, I will believe that our visa will happen, Chita and I are going to get a chance to have a life together which will span Fiji and Australia, and if I have my way, a trip back to Sicily next year.
I will try to quel my constant doubts; drown out the critic in my head, with singing and enjoy the next two weeks with the man who makes me happy.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Drinking to excess!
My family motto is 'too much is not enough for us'. We indulge in good food, good wine, and good company at any opportunity. Fijians take this motto and boy can they stretch it. My first trip to Fiji I bought a bottle of gin duty free and was so exhausted from the overnight flight that I flaked out, while Chita and a friend of his drank the whole bottle on the balcony. He could not figure out why I was upset. It was a gift- no? Yes but I didn't expect you to drink the whole thing in one night.
I took a couple of bottles of red wine on one of my many return voyages and showed Chita how to drink a glass of wine with dinner. See the wanna be Italian just keeps manifesting. He handled it very well.
While we were building the bure, there were plenty of occasions for booze ups. The first being 'putting on the roof'. Chita and a posse of mates, came to our bure in the bush at around 7 pm. I had slaved over the hot open barbecue to cook a meal for approimately 10 quiet Fijian males. Chita had been working hard, hadn't eaten, was absolutely trashed and flaked it while his merry mates kept drinking kava, metho and juice, and bourbon. They stayed and stayed and stayed. Chita staggered outside and passed out. I had to put the hose on him. He then passed out in our bed in the bure surrounded by boozed Fijians. They had all parked their machetes in the thatched wall as they entered and around 3 am I turned the radio off. Clapped my hands together like the primary school teacher I have been, and they all got up, and wandered off. His cousin, asked me for money but I told him to buggar off, in the nicest possible way of course.
I woke up the next day, with the bure looking like a tip and smelling foul and said I was going to Suva, he could come with me, but the bure had better be cleaned up by his friends by the time I got back. Strangely enough it was.
Another horrible day was when I came back from the beach to find a group of fijian males sitting on the mats outside, cracking a slab. I offered to take the children to the beach again to get away from it all.A huge monstrous Fijian guy called Wally came with us, made me stop at the shop to buy drinks for the kids, and when I turned around he had another slab. I didn't know what to do, he is enormous, and drunk. I paid for it in fear. The kids and I stayed at the beach for ages, and came back to a horrible scene. Wally swinging a machete and wanting his wife, who had hidden. I froze. Chita jumped up with another Tamo and got slugged by Wally. I gathered the kids and wives and we went and hid in Chita's bure. I was appalled.
The next day I said to Chita. I am not a open wallet for your friends. I was too scared to say no. Where were you? With a drunken smile, playing guitar and on your own little planet... I was so pissed off.
Since then I have been Madam Tough. I say no to alcohol and no to lollies and chocolates for the kids. Some of the tooth decay emerging in kids who if they ate fruit and local veg and fish would be sparkling.
Last year I stayed at a friend's house up on the hill in Votua. She is a cousin of Chita's who was married to an old man at 17 who died last year. She is a party girl and trashes herself, vomits, keeps drinking and wakes up ready for more. She also does not care when she is drunk, whose boyfriend she cracks onto which has upset the local village enormously. A rumour spread she had an STD and all the village boys rushed to the clinic at Korolevu for a check up.
She steals alcohol. The first time was duty free gin and vodka I had put in Victor's fridge. He lives further up the hill. He was peeved off when he found she had broken into his house on a binge session and drunk it all. Victor and I have 1-2 gin and tonics a night, or a daiquiri every now and again, and 2 litres lasts until my next visit.
She blew her bridges with me, when she stole a bottle of red wine I had bought in Suva from one of the department stores, beautifully wrapped and ready to give to my love. It was nowhere to be found.
I have learnt to lock up the booze. I dispense it in small amounts or give it to Victor for save keeping. Chita is semi-responsible, but if they have had a kava session and he wants a better taste in his mouth he will come begging for alcohol.
I had the worst experience out,at one of Kalara's parties. Chita and I usually go to bed around 11 and sleep through the non stop disco. I woke up to a rewind of one song at least forty times. I walked out, and spotted Kalara with vomit down her t-shirt, and nothing except undies,sculling vodka she had stolen from Victor. I walked into the living room to find a big Fijian girl passed out, vomiting onto the carpet, and another young guy with his cracked open, where he had hit it on the wall, and fallen to the floor - an impressive pool of blood around his head. I screamed for Chita who went up the hill to get Joe. The two of them dragged out the whole motley crew and turned the hose on them all. The big girl went into the bathroom, and locked herself in. Chita did the bravest thing out, and went in to retrieve her. She had vomited and crapped everywhere- the smell was overpowering. In fact Chita would us Victor's bathroom up the hill for the remainder of our stay, rather than go back in there and revisit.
I have to say Fijians and alcohol do not mix. Kava is the next narcotic to deal with. A kava session, while riveting for a Fijian, is a most uneventful event for a European woman who doesn't drink the stuff. You could join them and end up in the same comatose state, but I have a 2-3 kava bowl limit. I only drink it at proper times not at a grog session. I don't need kava to relax. Five hours watching big Fijian men drinking kava, their eyes going bloodshot, their heads disappearing into their laps is not my idea of fun. They don't eat until after the kava session, so food is usually cold. I now don't bother cooking.
The next day, a kava headache manifests and Fijian men get very grumpy. It the time when wives get bashed and children run away. I know I am sounding cynical, but I am also a realist. I have argued so many times with Chita that kava is not essential to his life; but to a Fijian it is - its a necessary pastime.
I think having a health scare a few years ago has stopped me drinking. I can't drink much. I just don't get into it. Eating is more my thing, as my waist line can attest.
So don't be afraid to say 'No' Fijian men can handle it.
I took a couple of bottles of red wine on one of my many return voyages and showed Chita how to drink a glass of wine with dinner. See the wanna be Italian just keeps manifesting. He handled it very well.
While we were building the bure, there were plenty of occasions for booze ups. The first being 'putting on the roof'. Chita and a posse of mates, came to our bure in the bush at around 7 pm. I had slaved over the hot open barbecue to cook a meal for approimately 10 quiet Fijian males. Chita had been working hard, hadn't eaten, was absolutely trashed and flaked it while his merry mates kept drinking kava, metho and juice, and bourbon. They stayed and stayed and stayed. Chita staggered outside and passed out. I had to put the hose on him. He then passed out in our bed in the bure surrounded by boozed Fijians. They had all parked their machetes in the thatched wall as they entered and around 3 am I turned the radio off. Clapped my hands together like the primary school teacher I have been, and they all got up, and wandered off. His cousin, asked me for money but I told him to buggar off, in the nicest possible way of course.
I woke up the next day, with the bure looking like a tip and smelling foul and said I was going to Suva, he could come with me, but the bure had better be cleaned up by his friends by the time I got back. Strangely enough it was.
Another horrible day was when I came back from the beach to find a group of fijian males sitting on the mats outside, cracking a slab. I offered to take the children to the beach again to get away from it all.A huge monstrous Fijian guy called Wally came with us, made me stop at the shop to buy drinks for the kids, and when I turned around he had another slab. I didn't know what to do, he is enormous, and drunk. I paid for it in fear. The kids and I stayed at the beach for ages, and came back to a horrible scene. Wally swinging a machete and wanting his wife, who had hidden. I froze. Chita jumped up with another Tamo and got slugged by Wally. I gathered the kids and wives and we went and hid in Chita's bure. I was appalled.
The next day I said to Chita. I am not a open wallet for your friends. I was too scared to say no. Where were you? With a drunken smile, playing guitar and on your own little planet... I was so pissed off.
Since then I have been Madam Tough. I say no to alcohol and no to lollies and chocolates for the kids. Some of the tooth decay emerging in kids who if they ate fruit and local veg and fish would be sparkling.
Last year I stayed at a friend's house up on the hill in Votua. She is a cousin of Chita's who was married to an old man at 17 who died last year. She is a party girl and trashes herself, vomits, keeps drinking and wakes up ready for more. She also does not care when she is drunk, whose boyfriend she cracks onto which has upset the local village enormously. A rumour spread she had an STD and all the village boys rushed to the clinic at Korolevu for a check up.
She steals alcohol. The first time was duty free gin and vodka I had put in Victor's fridge. He lives further up the hill. He was peeved off when he found she had broken into his house on a binge session and drunk it all. Victor and I have 1-2 gin and tonics a night, or a daiquiri every now and again, and 2 litres lasts until my next visit.
She blew her bridges with me, when she stole a bottle of red wine I had bought in Suva from one of the department stores, beautifully wrapped and ready to give to my love. It was nowhere to be found.
I have learnt to lock up the booze. I dispense it in small amounts or give it to Victor for save keeping. Chita is semi-responsible, but if they have had a kava session and he wants a better taste in his mouth he will come begging for alcohol.
I had the worst experience out,at one of Kalara's parties. Chita and I usually go to bed around 11 and sleep through the non stop disco. I woke up to a rewind of one song at least forty times. I walked out, and spotted Kalara with vomit down her t-shirt, and nothing except undies,sculling vodka she had stolen from Victor. I walked into the living room to find a big Fijian girl passed out, vomiting onto the carpet, and another young guy with his cracked open, where he had hit it on the wall, and fallen to the floor - an impressive pool of blood around his head. I screamed for Chita who went up the hill to get Joe. The two of them dragged out the whole motley crew and turned the hose on them all. The big girl went into the bathroom, and locked herself in. Chita did the bravest thing out, and went in to retrieve her. She had vomited and crapped everywhere- the smell was overpowering. In fact Chita would us Victor's bathroom up the hill for the remainder of our stay, rather than go back in there and revisit.
I have to say Fijians and alcohol do not mix. Kava is the next narcotic to deal with. A kava session, while riveting for a Fijian, is a most uneventful event for a European woman who doesn't drink the stuff. You could join them and end up in the same comatose state, but I have a 2-3 kava bowl limit. I only drink it at proper times not at a grog session. I don't need kava to relax. Five hours watching big Fijian men drinking kava, their eyes going bloodshot, their heads disappearing into their laps is not my idea of fun. They don't eat until after the kava session, so food is usually cold. I now don't bother cooking.
The next day, a kava headache manifests and Fijian men get very grumpy. It the time when wives get bashed and children run away. I know I am sounding cynical, but I am also a realist. I have argued so many times with Chita that kava is not essential to his life; but to a Fijian it is - its a necessary pastime.
I think having a health scare a few years ago has stopped me drinking. I can't drink much. I just don't get into it. Eating is more my thing, as my waist line can attest.
So don't be afraid to say 'No' Fijian men can handle it.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fijian Men
Have had lots of emails and phone calls about Fijian men and how they relate to European women ( us). Its been a voyage of discovery for me, and things I thought were shared amongst all cultures are not. I have had many misunderstandings.
Meet a Fijian man and he will be friendly, open, generous and ask you out. He will even give you either his post box number or a phone number depending on his employability status. My partner lives on the Coral Coast where there are a large number of resorts which employ Fijians for a pittance, lay them off whenever there is no work, give them no superannuation, sick leave, and usually work hours are unspecified ( ie slavery). The average salary at a resort is $80 per week and how much is it that you said you were paying for your resort? Ah yes, between $250 - 550 per night. MMM who is making money out of that? International investors of course.
Step outside a resort and visitors are shocked by the poverty. What is poverty? In Western eyes its financial success and all the consumables attached. To a Fijian, if there is food, a roof over your head, working with your mates, and family support - your life is good.
There is a growing number of young guys who work in the resorts who have copied the Fijian Indian males, and are looking for a European mate, to give them a good life. What that actually is for them, is unclear, but it must be better than being in Fiji.
Fijian men are unsophisticated, happy, friendly,with great abs but not much idea of love making. Had a chat to a Fijian girl, who says that even she finds Fijian men boring, as its all over so quickly and where was the foreplay. If you want a Fijian male, you are going to have to take him by the hand and show him the ropes. If he has had many European partners, someone else might have done the job for you.
In public, Fijian men are not intimate. There will be little or no hand holding, no kissing and hugging in public. Chita saw me off at the airport (a year after we started seeing each other mind you) and shook my hand saying 'Goodbye Miss Amanda Sutton!' I was flabbergasted. He now hugs me, and I usually kiss him, and he feigns indifference.
If I am in the village, I have to cover my arms, and legs, not walk through the main village green, enter the house by the back door, do not sit opposite an open doorway with my legs crossed ( hussy behaviour) and sit with the women when there is a family meeting. Do not sit beside the head of the family, always sit below.
When Chita is in the shop and noone is around I can be affectionate but when a group of local boys walk past coming back from the farm - its separate instantly. Its weird, but that's the way it is.
Phone ettiquette is another issue. A friend of mine wanted her Fijian boyfriend to do what a lover back at home would do - and ring daily and text as many times as they could. A Fijian with a phone,has either pinched it, been given it or worked hard for it. They cannot afford to buy lots of credit- maybe $15- 25 if they are lucky. If you ring and a woman answers the phone - yes it could be his wife, but it could also be his sister,mother or family member who has heard it ringing.
Fijian men are not good letter writers.... so give up there. You will have to ring them and maintain the relationship.
Because of the Fijian share and care mentality - they will ask you for monetary help. They could potentially ask you for anything. Chita's cousin asked me to buy him a boat....Fijians usually don't expect things, but if they ask they think that they may be lucky and you might give it to them. In Fijian culture certain family members can ask other family members for things, and they must be given. I am really good at saying no. If you want to pay an electricity bill or a water bill, or buy groceries - you can but don't think that you have to keep doing it; other family members will pitch in. When Chita's mum's electricity was cut off, and there was no one to pay the reconnection - I did it so that we could have light. However, the boys in the family take turns to pay for power.
Fijian men are not used to forward, vocal demanding European women (us) fijian girls say 'yes' to a man and do whatever they ask. Chita told me he found Fijian girls boring as there were no surprises. What about me I ask? I never know how you are going to react.
Fijian macho male behaviour comes through occasionally and they don't like it when we stand up to them but that's the way its got to be. Chita used to disappear on me, sometimes for hours, when we had a fight and then come back and check my face, to see if it was safe to be in the same room as me (wimp).
I have been supporting my partner for three and a half years. He has applied for three visas- a short term business visa, a rugby team visa and a short term visitor
s visa - all have been rejected. It seems that since the sixties Pacific islanders have a bad reputation for visa overstaying - coming from a culture where time has no meaning I can understand why but it seems that all young Fijian males between 20-45 have great difficulty getting to Australia.
I did not mean to meet someone from an island, which cannot come to Australia. Its been tough. I spent September last year, crying and dribbling to Chita that I didn't think I could mentally cope with the waiting. The effort to collect documentation, submitting the visa and then waiting - who knows how long - for him to get a prospective spouse visa. Only two chances in five years so I have paid a whole heap of money to an immigration agent who has waited patiently for me to do all the work... I picked the wrong job.
I love Chita - coming to Australia will be a huge challenge without the village, without his boys club, but with freedom to choose. Will he go overboard? Will he choose the middle way as buddha would say? I do not know.
Life as a couple in Fiji - is living separate lives - which I cannot do. Life as a couple in Australia could be a voyage of discovery.... lots of adventures, lots of good loving with no villager to listen, and lots of intimacy I hope.
Drinking is an issue I will bring up in my next blog.... there are no limits is all I will say for now...
Meet a Fijian man and he will be friendly, open, generous and ask you out. He will even give you either his post box number or a phone number depending on his employability status. My partner lives on the Coral Coast where there are a large number of resorts which employ Fijians for a pittance, lay them off whenever there is no work, give them no superannuation, sick leave, and usually work hours are unspecified ( ie slavery). The average salary at a resort is $80 per week and how much is it that you said you were paying for your resort? Ah yes, between $250 - 550 per night. MMM who is making money out of that? International investors of course.
Step outside a resort and visitors are shocked by the poverty. What is poverty? In Western eyes its financial success and all the consumables attached. To a Fijian, if there is food, a roof over your head, working with your mates, and family support - your life is good.
There is a growing number of young guys who work in the resorts who have copied the Fijian Indian males, and are looking for a European mate, to give them a good life. What that actually is for them, is unclear, but it must be better than being in Fiji.
Fijian men are unsophisticated, happy, friendly,with great abs but not much idea of love making. Had a chat to a Fijian girl, who says that even she finds Fijian men boring, as its all over so quickly and where was the foreplay. If you want a Fijian male, you are going to have to take him by the hand and show him the ropes. If he has had many European partners, someone else might have done the job for you.
In public, Fijian men are not intimate. There will be little or no hand holding, no kissing and hugging in public. Chita saw me off at the airport (a year after we started seeing each other mind you) and shook my hand saying 'Goodbye Miss Amanda Sutton!' I was flabbergasted. He now hugs me, and I usually kiss him, and he feigns indifference.
If I am in the village, I have to cover my arms, and legs, not walk through the main village green, enter the house by the back door, do not sit opposite an open doorway with my legs crossed ( hussy behaviour) and sit with the women when there is a family meeting. Do not sit beside the head of the family, always sit below.
When Chita is in the shop and noone is around I can be affectionate but when a group of local boys walk past coming back from the farm - its separate instantly. Its weird, but that's the way it is.
Phone ettiquette is another issue. A friend of mine wanted her Fijian boyfriend to do what a lover back at home would do - and ring daily and text as many times as they could. A Fijian with a phone,has either pinched it, been given it or worked hard for it. They cannot afford to buy lots of credit- maybe $15- 25 if they are lucky. If you ring and a woman answers the phone - yes it could be his wife, but it could also be his sister,mother or family member who has heard it ringing.
Fijian men are not good letter writers.... so give up there. You will have to ring them and maintain the relationship.
Because of the Fijian share and care mentality - they will ask you for monetary help. They could potentially ask you for anything. Chita's cousin asked me to buy him a boat....Fijians usually don't expect things, but if they ask they think that they may be lucky and you might give it to them. In Fijian culture certain family members can ask other family members for things, and they must be given. I am really good at saying no. If you want to pay an electricity bill or a water bill, or buy groceries - you can but don't think that you have to keep doing it; other family members will pitch in. When Chita's mum's electricity was cut off, and there was no one to pay the reconnection - I did it so that we could have light. However, the boys in the family take turns to pay for power.
Fijian men are not used to forward, vocal demanding European women (us) fijian girls say 'yes' to a man and do whatever they ask. Chita told me he found Fijian girls boring as there were no surprises. What about me I ask? I never know how you are going to react.
Fijian macho male behaviour comes through occasionally and they don't like it when we stand up to them but that's the way its got to be. Chita used to disappear on me, sometimes for hours, when we had a fight and then come back and check my face, to see if it was safe to be in the same room as me (wimp).
I have been supporting my partner for three and a half years. He has applied for three visas- a short term business visa, a rugby team visa and a short term visitor
s visa - all have been rejected. It seems that since the sixties Pacific islanders have a bad reputation for visa overstaying - coming from a culture where time has no meaning I can understand why but it seems that all young Fijian males between 20-45 have great difficulty getting to Australia.
I did not mean to meet someone from an island, which cannot come to Australia. Its been tough. I spent September last year, crying and dribbling to Chita that I didn't think I could mentally cope with the waiting. The effort to collect documentation, submitting the visa and then waiting - who knows how long - for him to get a prospective spouse visa. Only two chances in five years so I have paid a whole heap of money to an immigration agent who has waited patiently for me to do all the work... I picked the wrong job.
I love Chita - coming to Australia will be a huge challenge without the village, without his boys club, but with freedom to choose. Will he go overboard? Will he choose the middle way as buddha would say? I do not know.
Life as a couple in Fiji - is living separate lives - which I cannot do. Life as a couple in Australia could be a voyage of discovery.... lots of adventures, lots of good loving with no villager to listen, and lots of intimacy I hope.
Drinking is an issue I will bring up in my next blog.... there are no limits is all I will say for now...
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
I am here and he is there!
I was so demoralised after my encounter with a certain resort on the Coral Coast that shall remain nameless - but the level of exploitation and being classed as dispensible labour has left a bad taste in my mouth. Foreign business with cheap labour, and enormous profits going elsewhere.mmmmmmmm
I decided to go to Suva to the International School. I loved the school, its programs and surrounds but yet again - decent salaries are only paid to heads of department, the rest of the salary exist on local salaries no doubt supported by husbands working as diplomats or as consultants. I cannot live in Fiji without enough money to support the daily expenses of Chita and me, occasional hand outs to family and the village, pay for storage back in Oz and any expenses there. Its a joke1 am a talented, highly skilled person who can turn her hand to anything pretty much - nothing involving too much exertion as I am not a fitness freak but I am stuck in no man's land.
The love of my life,is working in a small business on his own, sleeping in a hammock every night on the deck so that he can protect our worldly goods from possible thieving. I could be there building up the business with him and seeing it grow, instead I am here sitting at my computer thinking about it.
I applied for a visitor's visa to get him to Australia thinking 'Okay, lets' see! I can get my family to invite him for Christmas and get my parents to write an invitation. We only get together on the rare occasion and as my brother was bringing his new partner from Korea (no problems with a visitor's visa there - money and economic possibilities count for everything) and her son for the first time. It was a chance for my darling boy to meet them all, see a bit of Tassie, work out whether he can stand the lower temperatures and start talking to a few potential businesses about a job. No bloody brick wall instead. Yet again I am dreaming about us being together instead of actually having him beside me in the flesh.
I had worked so hard on the visa. Providing documentation to prove our relationship, our business, and letters of support from family and friends.
I had pre-empted all the reasons for refusing his visa:
a) he is self employed and on a low income. My response- sponsor his airfares, accomdation, living expenses, medical insurance. Ignored.
b) An assessment of our relationship was not done - despite personal statements from both of us with photos, letters of support, telephone bills, passport entries, letters I have written to him and a whole lot of other palava. They didn't bloody well read any of it.
c) I am not a parent, spouse, or family member. What has that got to do with it. I rang the department and asked if as his fiance I could sponsor him out. No problem. So why that response.
d) Insufficient reason to return. I had organised a permaculture course for two weeks so that he could actually pick up a skill - we have a plantation project underway with seed funding from Rotary International back in Fiji, which he will need to manage- so they obviously didn't read that either.
Was the pile of visa applications too high; they were way behind. We applied on November 20th and on December 13th, the day before his scheduled air fare, they actually looked at his visa. How do I know? I rang the Australian High Commisssion and spoke to the receptionist who responded with: ' I can see it on the case manager's desk'
We didn't receive visa refusal until Friday December 14th the day of his intended departure. I was in a staff meeting at Claremont High, and walked out to talk to Chita. I dissolved into tears and cried for two hours. I could not go back into the meeting.
I had had a momentary panic that morning as I had discovered my mobile phone was not charged and I had had to borrow the principa's recharger. It took me until around 3 p.m. to stop the waterworks and walk into her office. With red rimmed eyes, and a shakey voice I handed over the recharger and then burst into tears again.
I went home. I have never felt so frustrated in my life. I have always been able to make things work for myself. Work out a strategy and head in the direction I want to go. Instead I feel powerless. I love him. We want to be together, so the only option is a prospective spouse visa (you can only have two cracks at that in five years so you need a migration agent which costs) or a spousal visa which also costs.
I rang Chita and discovered him calm as always. Don't think about it too much. What? Westerners are not wired that way.
I rang him the next day and he was sick with a summer flu - suppressed and repressed anger and frustration.
I have spent a xmas trying to be cheerful with family, a knotted left shoulder which has caused me grief, an enormous and overwhelming tiredness. What to do? Get married and wait how long for his visa to be approved.
I had completed a form as his authorised agent and received an email from the High Commission stating that due to the privacy act they could not respond via telephone or email. What the hell is the point of being an authorised agent, when I am in Australia and the only way I can communicate is by phone, email or fax. A fax is bloody unlikely as it costs more money and NO COMMUNICATION is the order of the day.
I am so pissed off. I am struggling to work out why they did not read our application.
Freedom and democracy are tenuous labels in the modern world. We believe we have the right to choose, make changes and do but red tape can keep you hanging for months. What do I do next? Do I go to Fiji for a week, have a registry office wedding and then apply for a spouse visa. To do that I am going to have to borrow money. Great.I am over any long way of getting there so forget the prospective spouse visa; its just going to cost to twice as much as you get that and then have to apply for a spouse visa. Do we apply to some country which will accept us as a couple and give us work, so that we can be together- even if its remote,we earn a pittance at least we will be together eh?
What about our plans for a beach shack, high on the hill, with a windy road through the tropical undergrowth, a deck looking out over the ocean, a four wheel drive parked nearby, a thriving bakery and juice bar. Two smiling faces(us) with plenty of customers who become friends and keep coming back. Being able to make valuable contributions to the village through specific programs for kids. I could use my current experience to train waiters, cooks and bakers. It is a vague and puffy cloud, just lurking on the horizon. It tempts me, drives me on, but I seem to have the longest and windiest road to get to it.
I have had my family - who are masters of negativity - saying well you knew getting him out here would be difficult. How did I know that? I had a text message from friends in Melbourne who have gone through the whole process the day after I found out, saying : we tried three times. I wish I had known that before I started and I wouldn't have built my hopes up. I also heard via Fiji gossip that the commission had decided to deny all visas until after January 2008. That's democracy at work. I also heard that there is such a high volume of applications that the commission can't cope. Obviously.
I am faced with more expense. I reapply for a visitor's visa with more documents, another return flight booked and wait a month for the same result. Then try again.
Or we get married and apply for the spousal visa. Worst case scenario 18 months, best case scenario 3- 6 months. I also need around $5,000 to make that happen.
I have to go back to Fiji to get married. I have decided he and I need a holiday. I have found cheap accomodation on Mana Island for our instant honeymoon. I am the financier so yet again my store of savings will dwindle and I will be back on the massive saving plan to get him out here. Merda as we say in Italian. Sono stufa...
I have work for this year full time on a year contract as a Pathway Planner - how ironic. Broadening student's horizons and guiding them towards work opportunities. And an interview for a job at a higher level in vocational education and training back in Lonny. I will be fostering positive relationships between schools and businesses,creating wonderful opportunities for students to become life long learners.
I also know that RESILIENCE is a part of current school's mantra. I am know learnign what that means. Sorry its been so long, but its taking so long. My life is surrounded, embedded and immersed in tons of paper.....
Any ideas, thoughts, or positive affirmations, gratefully accepted.
I decided to go to Suva to the International School. I loved the school, its programs and surrounds but yet again - decent salaries are only paid to heads of department, the rest of the salary exist on local salaries no doubt supported by husbands working as diplomats or as consultants. I cannot live in Fiji without enough money to support the daily expenses of Chita and me, occasional hand outs to family and the village, pay for storage back in Oz and any expenses there. Its a joke1 am a talented, highly skilled person who can turn her hand to anything pretty much - nothing involving too much exertion as I am not a fitness freak but I am stuck in no man's land.
The love of my life,is working in a small business on his own, sleeping in a hammock every night on the deck so that he can protect our worldly goods from possible thieving. I could be there building up the business with him and seeing it grow, instead I am here sitting at my computer thinking about it.
I applied for a visitor's visa to get him to Australia thinking 'Okay, lets' see! I can get my family to invite him for Christmas and get my parents to write an invitation. We only get together on the rare occasion and as my brother was bringing his new partner from Korea (no problems with a visitor's visa there - money and economic possibilities count for everything) and her son for the first time. It was a chance for my darling boy to meet them all, see a bit of Tassie, work out whether he can stand the lower temperatures and start talking to a few potential businesses about a job. No bloody brick wall instead. Yet again I am dreaming about us being together instead of actually having him beside me in the flesh.
I had worked so hard on the visa. Providing documentation to prove our relationship, our business, and letters of support from family and friends.
I had pre-empted all the reasons for refusing his visa:
a) he is self employed and on a low income. My response- sponsor his airfares, accomdation, living expenses, medical insurance. Ignored.
b) An assessment of our relationship was not done - despite personal statements from both of us with photos, letters of support, telephone bills, passport entries, letters I have written to him and a whole lot of other palava. They didn't bloody well read any of it.
c) I am not a parent, spouse, or family member. What has that got to do with it. I rang the department and asked if as his fiance I could sponsor him out. No problem. So why that response.
d) Insufficient reason to return. I had organised a permaculture course for two weeks so that he could actually pick up a skill - we have a plantation project underway with seed funding from Rotary International back in Fiji, which he will need to manage- so they obviously didn't read that either.
Was the pile of visa applications too high; they were way behind. We applied on November 20th and on December 13th, the day before his scheduled air fare, they actually looked at his visa. How do I know? I rang the Australian High Commisssion and spoke to the receptionist who responded with: ' I can see it on the case manager's desk'
We didn't receive visa refusal until Friday December 14th the day of his intended departure. I was in a staff meeting at Claremont High, and walked out to talk to Chita. I dissolved into tears and cried for two hours. I could not go back into the meeting.
I had had a momentary panic that morning as I had discovered my mobile phone was not charged and I had had to borrow the principa's recharger. It took me until around 3 p.m. to stop the waterworks and walk into her office. With red rimmed eyes, and a shakey voice I handed over the recharger and then burst into tears again.
I went home. I have never felt so frustrated in my life. I have always been able to make things work for myself. Work out a strategy and head in the direction I want to go. Instead I feel powerless. I love him. We want to be together, so the only option is a prospective spouse visa (you can only have two cracks at that in five years so you need a migration agent which costs) or a spousal visa which also costs.
I rang Chita and discovered him calm as always. Don't think about it too much. What? Westerners are not wired that way.
I rang him the next day and he was sick with a summer flu - suppressed and repressed anger and frustration.
I have spent a xmas trying to be cheerful with family, a knotted left shoulder which has caused me grief, an enormous and overwhelming tiredness. What to do? Get married and wait how long for his visa to be approved.
I had completed a form as his authorised agent and received an email from the High Commission stating that due to the privacy act they could not respond via telephone or email. What the hell is the point of being an authorised agent, when I am in Australia and the only way I can communicate is by phone, email or fax. A fax is bloody unlikely as it costs more money and NO COMMUNICATION is the order of the day.
I am so pissed off. I am struggling to work out why they did not read our application.
Freedom and democracy are tenuous labels in the modern world. We believe we have the right to choose, make changes and do but red tape can keep you hanging for months. What do I do next? Do I go to Fiji for a week, have a registry office wedding and then apply for a spouse visa. To do that I am going to have to borrow money. Great.I am over any long way of getting there so forget the prospective spouse visa; its just going to cost to twice as much as you get that and then have to apply for a spouse visa. Do we apply to some country which will accept us as a couple and give us work, so that we can be together- even if its remote,we earn a pittance at least we will be together eh?
What about our plans for a beach shack, high on the hill, with a windy road through the tropical undergrowth, a deck looking out over the ocean, a four wheel drive parked nearby, a thriving bakery and juice bar. Two smiling faces(us) with plenty of customers who become friends and keep coming back. Being able to make valuable contributions to the village through specific programs for kids. I could use my current experience to train waiters, cooks and bakers. It is a vague and puffy cloud, just lurking on the horizon. It tempts me, drives me on, but I seem to have the longest and windiest road to get to it.
I have had my family - who are masters of negativity - saying well you knew getting him out here would be difficult. How did I know that? I had a text message from friends in Melbourne who have gone through the whole process the day after I found out, saying : we tried three times. I wish I had known that before I started and I wouldn't have built my hopes up. I also heard via Fiji gossip that the commission had decided to deny all visas until after January 2008. That's democracy at work. I also heard that there is such a high volume of applications that the commission can't cope. Obviously.
I am faced with more expense. I reapply for a visitor's visa with more documents, another return flight booked and wait a month for the same result. Then try again.
Or we get married and apply for the spousal visa. Worst case scenario 18 months, best case scenario 3- 6 months. I also need around $5,000 to make that happen.
I have to go back to Fiji to get married. I have decided he and I need a holiday. I have found cheap accomodation on Mana Island for our instant honeymoon. I am the financier so yet again my store of savings will dwindle and I will be back on the massive saving plan to get him out here. Merda as we say in Italian. Sono stufa...
I have work for this year full time on a year contract as a Pathway Planner - how ironic. Broadening student's horizons and guiding them towards work opportunities. And an interview for a job at a higher level in vocational education and training back in Lonny. I will be fostering positive relationships between schools and businesses,creating wonderful opportunities for students to become life long learners.
I also know that RESILIENCE is a part of current school's mantra. I am know learnign what that means. Sorry its been so long, but its taking so long. My life is surrounded, embedded and immersed in tons of paper.....
Any ideas, thoughts, or positive affirmations, gratefully accepted.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Fiji Bleedin' Fiji!
I know its been a while. I returned to Tassie in May to fill the very empty coffers and to repay and enormous phone call I had unwittingly created. I have found work as a relief teacher in a number of Northern Tasmanian schools, and travelling around has been most enjoyable. I find visiting different schools a challenge, a bit of an adrenalin surge as I walk into an unknown class and work out how they are going to respond. On the whole, very well, as it turns out. I have also done a bit of travelling around the North East and absolutely love it. We used to have a beach shack at Bridport and memories overtake me everytime I drive into the town.
Meanwhile back in Fiji, Chita loses his mobile phone accidentally and I have no way of talking to him for a couple of months, other than arranging chats on his brother's mobile phone. Joe is supposed to be working in the cafe with Chita, but never seems to be around. I ring Friday nights and talk to his wife, or Saturday mornings and arrange a chat with Chita. To a Fijian with a very elastic sense of time, he can wait until he sees me next, but as an uptight European I need constant contact and it drives me nuts.
Although he did say last time I talked to him
'Its good to hear your voice!'
I am constantly racking my brains how to get back to Fiji and trying to find a job seems the perfect solution. However, I have been applying for jobs in Hospitality for over a year and no response until I arrived home one Friday night to hear my dad say:
'A man from Fiji called!'
I immediately thought 'Shit, something has happened to Chita?' Then my rational brain kicked in - if he was hurt, Victor would surely call me, and he has my mobile number......
so who is this mystery man?
I waited impatiently until 7 pm, and got a phone call from a food and beverage manager at a resort saying' Do you still want the job as Restaurant Manager?'
I quickly replied' Yes'.
I waited a very long week for him to ring back and say' Can you come to Fiji for an interview?'
I so wanted this job. I wanted to leap on the next plane. Then I decided to query the job. I had not received a job description or salary. I looked up a payscale website and found out how much I would be paid in Oz, and made an offer of my own.
I flew to Nadi where transport was supposedly waiting to pick me up. A van. I was dropped off at the foyer of the hotel, and the F & B manager raced up, introduced himself and said
" Settle yourself in, we'll have an interview tomorrow'.
I showered, changed and waited for my love to appear. Nothing, no one, nada. I rang Phylis who came to pick me up and we started searching for him. In the village was a farewell for Chita's brother Joe and his wife Natalie, who are migrating to the US and Chita nowhere in sight.
With no mobile I couldn't track him down. I rang Victor on the hill - no answer. Having just survived the flight I couldn't be stuffed walking up the hill to see if he was there, and Phylis hates driving her four wheel drive up there as the road is steep and very rocky.
I waited. Nothing. No one. Had dinner with Phylis and then headed back to the hotel to rest and prepare for my interview. At 10 O' clock I get a phone call from Chita. He had been recovering from too much kava for a wedding or funeral up at Victors and had just strolled down the hill to Phylis's house. She told him to call.
I thought ' buggar it. You can wait until tomorrow to see me. My mind is on getting this job!'
The interview went well the next morning. I really liked the F & B manager but there was no clear job description and no job offer. We talked about upgrading the restaurant menu and retraining staff. It all appealed greatly. The restaurant is only open at night and I could work with Chita by day in the milkbar..... great thoughts...
I was asked to prepare a few food items for the Regional Director, a man loathed in these parts, and I was a bit anxious. Working in a side kitchen with little or no equipment was difficult. I needed time to get someone to set up what I needed as far as ingredients and equipment. I spent 3 hours the first night testing the kitchen preparing two items which should have taken me an hour. The next day I was supposed to have everything ready to go, with assistance. Instead I found myself swinging around in akitchen, with cupboards locked and the Head chef nowhere in sight. Preparing the food took 5 and half hours..... I had help in assembling the dishes for half an hour only.
I was a nervous wreck. The director is a rude and arrogant man. I knew that. He pulled my dishes apart.
I made homemade tortelloni filled with ricotta, prawns and cinnamon, in a lemon butter sauce.
His response ' What's that? I don't see a big New Zealand or Aussie guy eating those.'
Then I made a salad pizza. It should have been rocket and parmesan on top but of course I couldn't find it.
"What's that? This time laughing.
I seared tuna on top of a lemon risotto cake served with caramelised onions in vincotto and shredded basil and orange zest on top.
'What else can you put on top of that?'
I could tell this guy wanted to piles and over load. Fijian hotel food is stuck in the 70's. Where was the cream sauce and trio of prawns?
I was so pissed off. I have never felt so demoralized in my life, when he flicked his fingers at me and said' Off you go, I will talk to the F& B manager'.
I went up to get my portfolio and then waited in my room.
I was invited for a drink in a far corner of the Japanese restaurant by the manager who then offered me
$20,000 Aust salary.
I was angry. Then I thought about it. If I could work just nights at the restaurant and then by day with Chita maybe this could work. I swallowed my pride and said 'yes'
I flew back to Oz and waited for the contract. When it came, I thought ' Where are all the benefits we discussed that would make working for the hotel worthwhile?
Nowhere to be seen.
I sent a copy to a friend to look at. Her response. Its a standard contract but where's the job offer. No relocation package. Unspecified working hours, and no opportunity to work elsewhere to subsidise my salary.
I refused the job. Have spent a week feeling angry, pissed off, uptight and then I remembered the words of a hotel owner I had asked advice of, six months a go.
Amanda if you work in the hotel, its poorly paid and you are better off working for yourself.
Would love to be setting up my cafe, but we have no money for infrastructure; there are no grants available at present and we can't take out a loan until the land issue has been signed over to the clan and we get a signed lease.
I am so sick of travelling back and forth to Fiji. I sooooooo want a little shack for us to live in, but I never have enough money to build it. I so want to spend time with Chita having fun, but we never have enough money to do much....
I love the climate, the people and the lifestyle, but as a kavalagi I need a white girl's job to stay. I need to support Chita. His mum. Provide weekly groceries for his mum's house. Slowly help Chita with infrastructure such as a fridge, table and chairs, lighting, water pipes and our own electricity source. Its so hard, because everything takes soooooooo long.
I am going to apply for a job at an International school and hopefully there are vacancies. I know they pay their staff appropriate wages. I can then help Chita crank up the business so he is making money and so am I. Carrying the load now for two years has been tough.
I feel sometimes that we are not moving ahead. Maybe its just coz we are not moving ahead fast...... a results orientated approach to Fiji is doomed to frustration.
I sooooo want to be there. I sooo need a good job, with a reasonable pay. Any ideas anyone?
I love Fiji, but it also drives me nuts at the same time. Phylis says
'At least you know you are alive in Fiji; its never dull!'
Meanwhile back in Fiji, Chita loses his mobile phone accidentally and I have no way of talking to him for a couple of months, other than arranging chats on his brother's mobile phone. Joe is supposed to be working in the cafe with Chita, but never seems to be around. I ring Friday nights and talk to his wife, or Saturday mornings and arrange a chat with Chita. To a Fijian with a very elastic sense of time, he can wait until he sees me next, but as an uptight European I need constant contact and it drives me nuts.
Although he did say last time I talked to him
'Its good to hear your voice!'
I am constantly racking my brains how to get back to Fiji and trying to find a job seems the perfect solution. However, I have been applying for jobs in Hospitality for over a year and no response until I arrived home one Friday night to hear my dad say:
'A man from Fiji called!'
I immediately thought 'Shit, something has happened to Chita?' Then my rational brain kicked in - if he was hurt, Victor would surely call me, and he has my mobile number......
so who is this mystery man?
I waited impatiently until 7 pm, and got a phone call from a food and beverage manager at a resort saying' Do you still want the job as Restaurant Manager?'
I quickly replied' Yes'.
I waited a very long week for him to ring back and say' Can you come to Fiji for an interview?'
I so wanted this job. I wanted to leap on the next plane. Then I decided to query the job. I had not received a job description or salary. I looked up a payscale website and found out how much I would be paid in Oz, and made an offer of my own.
I flew to Nadi where transport was supposedly waiting to pick me up. A van. I was dropped off at the foyer of the hotel, and the F & B manager raced up, introduced himself and said
" Settle yourself in, we'll have an interview tomorrow'.
I showered, changed and waited for my love to appear. Nothing, no one, nada. I rang Phylis who came to pick me up and we started searching for him. In the village was a farewell for Chita's brother Joe and his wife Natalie, who are migrating to the US and Chita nowhere in sight.
With no mobile I couldn't track him down. I rang Victor on the hill - no answer. Having just survived the flight I couldn't be stuffed walking up the hill to see if he was there, and Phylis hates driving her four wheel drive up there as the road is steep and very rocky.
I waited. Nothing. No one. Had dinner with Phylis and then headed back to the hotel to rest and prepare for my interview. At 10 O' clock I get a phone call from Chita. He had been recovering from too much kava for a wedding or funeral up at Victors and had just strolled down the hill to Phylis's house. She told him to call.
I thought ' buggar it. You can wait until tomorrow to see me. My mind is on getting this job!'
The interview went well the next morning. I really liked the F & B manager but there was no clear job description and no job offer. We talked about upgrading the restaurant menu and retraining staff. It all appealed greatly. The restaurant is only open at night and I could work with Chita by day in the milkbar..... great thoughts...
I was asked to prepare a few food items for the Regional Director, a man loathed in these parts, and I was a bit anxious. Working in a side kitchen with little or no equipment was difficult. I needed time to get someone to set up what I needed as far as ingredients and equipment. I spent 3 hours the first night testing the kitchen preparing two items which should have taken me an hour. The next day I was supposed to have everything ready to go, with assistance. Instead I found myself swinging around in akitchen, with cupboards locked and the Head chef nowhere in sight. Preparing the food took 5 and half hours..... I had help in assembling the dishes for half an hour only.
I was a nervous wreck. The director is a rude and arrogant man. I knew that. He pulled my dishes apart.
I made homemade tortelloni filled with ricotta, prawns and cinnamon, in a lemon butter sauce.
His response ' What's that? I don't see a big New Zealand or Aussie guy eating those.'
Then I made a salad pizza. It should have been rocket and parmesan on top but of course I couldn't find it.
"What's that? This time laughing.
I seared tuna on top of a lemon risotto cake served with caramelised onions in vincotto and shredded basil and orange zest on top.
'What else can you put on top of that?'
I could tell this guy wanted to piles and over load. Fijian hotel food is stuck in the 70's. Where was the cream sauce and trio of prawns?
I was so pissed off. I have never felt so demoralized in my life, when he flicked his fingers at me and said' Off you go, I will talk to the F& B manager'.
I went up to get my portfolio and then waited in my room.
I was invited for a drink in a far corner of the Japanese restaurant by the manager who then offered me
$20,000 Aust salary.
I was angry. Then I thought about it. If I could work just nights at the restaurant and then by day with Chita maybe this could work. I swallowed my pride and said 'yes'
I flew back to Oz and waited for the contract. When it came, I thought ' Where are all the benefits we discussed that would make working for the hotel worthwhile?
Nowhere to be seen.
I sent a copy to a friend to look at. Her response. Its a standard contract but where's the job offer. No relocation package. Unspecified working hours, and no opportunity to work elsewhere to subsidise my salary.
I refused the job. Have spent a week feeling angry, pissed off, uptight and then I remembered the words of a hotel owner I had asked advice of, six months a go.
Amanda if you work in the hotel, its poorly paid and you are better off working for yourself.
Would love to be setting up my cafe, but we have no money for infrastructure; there are no grants available at present and we can't take out a loan until the land issue has been signed over to the clan and we get a signed lease.
I am so sick of travelling back and forth to Fiji. I sooooooo want a little shack for us to live in, but I never have enough money to build it. I so want to spend time with Chita having fun, but we never have enough money to do much....
I love the climate, the people and the lifestyle, but as a kavalagi I need a white girl's job to stay. I need to support Chita. His mum. Provide weekly groceries for his mum's house. Slowly help Chita with infrastructure such as a fridge, table and chairs, lighting, water pipes and our own electricity source. Its so hard, because everything takes soooooooo long.
I am going to apply for a job at an International school and hopefully there are vacancies. I know they pay their staff appropriate wages. I can then help Chita crank up the business so he is making money and so am I. Carrying the load now for two years has been tough.
I feel sometimes that we are not moving ahead. Maybe its just coz we are not moving ahead fast...... a results orientated approach to Fiji is doomed to frustration.
I sooooo want to be there. I sooo need a good job, with a reasonable pay. Any ideas anyone?
I love Fiji, but it also drives me nuts at the same time. Phylis says
'At least you know you are alive in Fiji; its never dull!'
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Fiji One Minute Tassie the next!
The last three weeks have been exciting, exhilerating, knackering and a buzz. Opening the Beach Bure Bar was strategically engineered by me. I organised a family meeting with Chita's brother Joe and wife Natalie. I suggested we get the milk bar open and offered some money which was matched by them. It was a good feeling.
I didn't waste a minute. I went to Sigatoka by van to organise locks for all the windows and doors of the Beach Bure Bar. I also did a price check on a couple of supermarkets. I have a loyalty card with MH supermarkets and ended up putting in a quote for supplies from Shop and Save. They offered a miniscule discount. There is no competition in Fiji, little or no variety and you pay what they say.
The following Monday I took the van yet again along the coastal road to Sigatoka, with a big list. I bought stock and caught a taxi, a supreme indulgence back. Chita and Abo were busy putting in shelves and attaching locks. I wanted to drop it all off at the shop but the locks weren't finished so I took it all to his mother's house.
The next day was the opening. I had met a gorgeous Aussie chick, Megan, who just so happens to be a visual merchandiser. Could she help? But of course. Chita piled everything into a taxi and sent it to the shop. We arrived to find he had stacked and packed as best as he could, but creating an atmosphere was Megan's forte.
Joe, Chita's brother emerged saying 'Amanda we can't open the shop until the minister has conducted a blessing"
'Sure, no problem, gives us more time to set up'
I had spoken to his mum that morning and suggested two things to bake, however, she was determined to make pie, coconut scones and chocolate cake... I gave up. 'Whatever makes you feel a part of the celebration,' I thought.
A couple of hours later I looked around and could not find Chita. He was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he was. I trekked off down the road towards the village and reached his mother's house, walked in the front door, and found him sitting on the side of the bed, looking pale and saying " I don't feel well, I have a headache'.
I knew why he was feeling so bad, he'd stayed up all night watching dvd's rather than letting his fears creep into his sleep.
Is it going to work?' were his last words to me before I closed my eyes.
I headed back to the shop and about an hour later, I noticed the minister storming up the road, coat flapping, bible clutched in his hot little hand.
I greeted him and shook his hand firmly,'Where's Chita? Where is everyone? I was booked for eleven o'clock!
Chita was nowhere to be seen. I ran down the road, to the house, and found him lying back reading a New Idea..... He had no intention of being at the blessing for his own shop, 'Joe's there isn't he?'
I couldn't believe it.
This is embarassing. You need to come and come now. I did my bossy school teacher and he rolled his eyes at me.
You go, and I will follow.
No bloody way. You are going in front of me.
He used every evasion tactic in the book to avoid moving. He picked up a tank top instead of a shirt. At all formal occasions Fijians, were perfectly ironed shirts and sulus. Then he grabbed a dirty t-shirt and put it on inside out. His shorts were filthy. He then bent down slowly searching for his boots.
No boots, your flip flops are over there.
I was semi volcanic. He eased himself off the bed and took the long way out of the house, stopping to say 'bula' to his sister-in-law.
Come on! Get moving! I semi-screeched.
He loitered at the bus stop talking to potential passengers and as I shot a glance up the road, I realised the deck was full and the minister had started...
Shit!
Between clenched teeth I muttered 'If you don't get moving, I will push you up the road myself!'
A cheeky sly grin in my direction from him and a mega shove from me sent him reeling in the right direction.
He turned to me saying 'Hey! What are you doing?'
Its already started and we aren't even there' I bleated.
We arrive at the deck to see everyone seated facing the sea. His brothers are in freshly pressed, brightly coloured shirts with tailored sulus. Chita sits down beside them (in filthy shorts and a t-shirt) and I flee to the doorway of the shop.
The minister is in the middle of welcoming our first customers, locals from the Naviti and Maui Bay. He is so happy to see everyone together.
What a proud moment for the village.
'A milk bar which will support the local village, work with it its next door neighbour the dive shop and create jobs for the village.'
He then began directing comments at Chita in Fijian along the lines of:
'This is a great opportunity for you. Don't waste it. Let the village be proud of you.
You can be a role model for the young boys of the village, showing them that hard work brings its rewards.'
You can help stop the kava drinking at all hours, the boys of the village wandering around without anything to do, and stop the marijuana smoking.
Lucky it was just family at this stage.
Inside the shop Megan and I were busy making signs to let people know the Beach Bure Bar was open. Megan did a fantastic job of setting up the dry goods and then helping create a counter full of colour to keep everyone's eyes roaming around the shop.
I could hear the kava clapping and realised that it would take all day, so Megan and I could relax, get the shop set up, while people started rolling in to join the celebration.
I could not believe how everyone knew. The bush telegraph is fast. All the elders from the village, and family members. In the afternoon people started appearing from up and down the Coral Coast.
The kava clapping continued until 11 pm that night.
I knew how much everyone wanted this business to work. It was only Chita's self doubt stopping him. His family were so proud. Everyone wished him well, over and over again, all day and all night.
Couldn't wait for everyone to leave so we could talk about it.
Are you happy I got the bar open?
Yes.
Did you have any idea that all these people would come to wish you well?
No.
We cuddled up on the mat, and he whispered in my ear
'You're an amazing woman you know!
It made the anxiety and stress I had been through worthwhile. I have realised that when times get tough for him, his personal response is flight. My own reaction is the complete opposite - Fight.
Two weeks later I was in a position where I had to stand up for what I believed in and boy did it cause a quiet tense situation in the Tubuna household. Fijians never raise their voice, so if they want to let you know you have done something wrong, you get the silent treatment.... not pleasant at all.
It all started the day, Joe and Chita got carried away with a Fijian idea on promoting the business. A group of van drivers from the Hideaway resort appeared on the Tuesday morning wanting cups of tea and buns.
Can we give them for free?
Yes. If you think they are going to bring us business.
They came, they drank, they left.
However, the next day Joe had come up with the brilliant idea of wooing them back with kava( talk about overkill). At all family meetings I had stated that kava was banned from the deck. We are trying to create a family atmosphere, where mums, kids and family can come. If there is kava; it becomes mens business and no one will visit the shop. I remember heads nodding in agreement.
I rock up to the shop with the daily baking - a tray of pizza, banana breads and coconut scones, as well as a loaves of crusty bread and my now famous fruit loaf. Chita is in the doorway.
I ask him what is going on and he just shakes his head. Its Joe's idea!
I sit in the shop, while a group of men begin a kava session that starts at 11 am and around 4 pm when I have made the grand total of $17.50 for day. I am explosive.
I wait until the kava bowl, in this case a large green plastic bucket that I use to bring water for the kettle, is empty and I grab it.
I am sorry boys, but this is business. Kava and business do not go together. I am going to have to ask you to move.
Chita saw me, knew I meant business and started clearing an area beside the deck, on the beach.
Joe emerges through the doorway and I give him a serve.
I am sorry Joe, I have spoken to these gentlemen and told them its time to move. I need room for customers to drink tea and coffee.
He turned tail and the guests all disappeared in silence.
Chita appears in the doorway with a full bucket of kava and I grab it.
Sorry, no more kava on the deck.
Hey what are you doing?
He turned to talk to Joe, returning to spit at me- I am going with them.
Interestingly enough the village has very strict rules- no kava drinking during the day. Why the bloody hell did Joe think he could get away with it on the deck? I felt vindicated.
However, as I sat at the counter alone, by myself and no one else around, I kept thinking 'Shit. What have I done!'
No Fijian woman ever stands up to a man- that's shaming her partner. No woman stands up to the elder brothers of the Tubuna family. I knew I would suffer the consequences but I needed to distinguish between business and village life. To make the business work, we have to run it differently.
I sat there, in silence, with a quivering lip, until a party of kids came to buy snacks and lolly pops. A couple of ladies walking home dropped in to buy bread and then food started disappearing.
Chita's mum appeared and had a cup of tea. She didn't say anything other than
'Amanda are you okay?'
Yep.
Chita reappears forty minutes later.
Are you coming to Fabi's for dinner?
Yes. He smiles and its all forgotten apparently.
We head off to dinner and I vent to Fabi. Maybe you shouldn't be going home. You know that kerikeri (Fijian concept of share and care though giving) is too strong here. If someone asks for help you have to give it.
I turned to Chita and said 'Maybe I should stay! He nods in agreement.
Its a bit early for you to leave Amanda.
Yes I know. I don't want to go, but funds are running out and I can't live on fresh air. I can't live in his mother's house without contributing food in my weekly shop.
I can't go anywhere and do anything without a bus fare or a fare for the van.
If I can change my flight I can stay a couple of weeks. I really want to go home for mum's 70th birthday.
Chita and I have discussed it a lot, and he wants me to go...
I make my mind up to stay and hold the fort.
The next morning I get up and head into the kitchen. The air is frosty, unusual considering it was around 27 degrees. His mother doesn't speak but moves around doing stuff, but not baking.
I sit down to a cup of coffee and she comes and sits beside me.
Amanda you know I love you as a daughter. You know I speak straight to all my family.
Yes.
I need to talk to you about yesterday.
Okay.
You did a terrible thing!
What!
You shamed the family.
I sighed and listened. When she had finished I replied' I know what I did was wrong if it had taken place in the village, but this is business and we ca't have kava drinking on the deck; we will have no customers.'
Wage is very angry.
I had received the wrath of the smouldering older brother. Things were not looking good.
We are having a family meeting tonight. Ominous.
I walk up to the cafe and Chita is smiling saying'bula'. He disappears to the village and returns saying
'My brothers aren't talking to me. What are we going to do? Are you going to go back to Australia?"
No way. I have got this business started I am going to fight for what I believe in, even if it transgresses the Fijian code of conduct.
The remainder of the day disappeared in cups of tea and coffee, happy chats, a quick swim and then I nicked off to check if I could change my flight.
Fuck. I made the change of Pacific Blue, but my credit card was rejected.
I checked my balance to see if I could make a payment.
Yes, but not enough.
It was a defining moment. I have to go home. I have no money left.
Phyllis offered me a tea, saying you know things will fall a part while you are away. The only one who can make this business work is you. You have to be here, to make it work.
I understand all that, but at the level we had started the business - as a milk bar selling goods the locals want,and making cups of tea, coffee and juice. It was all completely manageable.
I was torn in two. My business brain saying 'stay, it all will go to...' my heart going' no, I don't want to leave' my logical brain winning out saying' darling, you have no choice, without funds you cannot stay'.
My turmoil was interrupted by the mobile phone ringing.
Everyone is waiting for you.
I am coming.
You can walk me down.
No you can do this by yourself.
No, you are my partner and you are coming...
I walk down the hill, find him swinging in the hammock with the opening line of
'If you were a Fijian girl you would have been beaten and chased out of the village'
Lucky I am not Fijian was my retort.
You go, I need to close up the shop.
I head towards the village, dragging each foot in front of the other, rehearsing my speech for the family meeting.
I am rock solid on my actions, but I am unsure of how THE FAMILY are going to respond.
I walk into the house and Natalie calls out
Amanda you must be hungry, have some soup NENE( Chita's mum) has made.
I sit there, trying to sip soup, my guts churning as I glance around and realise that we have a very formal seating arrangement for this evening.
Joe is sitting halfway down the room, Natalie and the kids are sitting in women's zone close to the door, and I am lurking behind them, seated at the table.
Where's Chita?
Its a daily catch cry!
Coming is my response.
Chita mosies on in, through the kitchen, gives me a quick glance and then goes and sits by his brother.
I sit down on the floor beside the ladies, with my back to the couch for support and the family meeting begins with
'amanda what do you want to say? from Chita.
I am startled and my words come tripping over themselves
Well, first of all, Joe I would like to say sorry for my actions. I did not intend to hurt you feelings, shame the family or make you angry. If you wish to serve kava to potential clients, we need to set up an area. The deck is however off limits. Its a place for customers to come and have coffee and tea.
He turns to me
'I accept your apology'.
I am shocked.
Is there anything else you wish to say. I blurted out all my business concerns and then its Natalie's turn.
Her response is telling.
I argued with Joe for months about opening this cafe. I knew this was going to happen.
What were you two thinking? You are always looking after everyone else. Why is it that we are always the ones to buy food and kava for every occasion. No one buys it for us. Why do you two have to be at around every kava bowl...
I knew this wasn't going to work.
An ally at last.
If Amanda hadn't said what she said, I was going to give you both a kick up the bum.
What were you thinking?
She confronts Joe. He is silent.
She confronts Chita. Do you hear me? Do you understand?
He nods and is silent.
The meeting ends positively for me, but Chita can't resist a serve in my direction - You were disrespectful to my culture Amanda.
Bull shit. This is business, not the village.
I wake up with a sick feeling in my stomach. If I can't change my flight I am going to have to go.
I head up the hill to use the internet at Phyllis' house.
No, I can't change my flight.
I walk towards the deck, tears flowing.
Chita I have to go. I don't want to but I have to.
I understand. Go and pack.
I drip down to the village, knocking on Megan's door for a quick girl chat, before I go.
You are doing the right thing Amanda. Chita is supremely capable.
Encouraging words.
Chita reappears, saying 'Lets' go to Nadi for the night.'
I will tell the family.
He tells Joe who goes to mind the shop and then his mum.
You are leaving Amanda? questions Nene.
I nod.
I grab clothes from the line, pack stuff into two bags - things to stay under Nene's bed and things to take with me.
Cindy,a local Australian,appears returning a pizza tray and offering a lift to the airport in a van.
I say 'yes'
Nene comes and sits beside me on the couch. We both cry and hug.
I am going to miss you. You have been so good to the family Amanda
I am bereft, gulping back sobs and trying to be strong.
I ring everyone to let them know I am leaving. Its a shock for all.
Phyllis appears in the RAV 4 wrapped in a lime sulu, to give me a hug.
Chita and I both collapse in his mum's room until transport arrives.
In the van on the way to Nadi, Victor rings, I just hand the phone to Chita and he answers. I just couldn't talk.
One night in Nadi with my beloved and its Tassie here I come!
I didn't waste a minute. I went to Sigatoka by van to organise locks for all the windows and doors of the Beach Bure Bar. I also did a price check on a couple of supermarkets. I have a loyalty card with MH supermarkets and ended up putting in a quote for supplies from Shop and Save. They offered a miniscule discount. There is no competition in Fiji, little or no variety and you pay what they say.
The following Monday I took the van yet again along the coastal road to Sigatoka, with a big list. I bought stock and caught a taxi, a supreme indulgence back. Chita and Abo were busy putting in shelves and attaching locks. I wanted to drop it all off at the shop but the locks weren't finished so I took it all to his mother's house.
The next day was the opening. I had met a gorgeous Aussie chick, Megan, who just so happens to be a visual merchandiser. Could she help? But of course. Chita piled everything into a taxi and sent it to the shop. We arrived to find he had stacked and packed as best as he could, but creating an atmosphere was Megan's forte.
Joe, Chita's brother emerged saying 'Amanda we can't open the shop until the minister has conducted a blessing"
'Sure, no problem, gives us more time to set up'
I had spoken to his mum that morning and suggested two things to bake, however, she was determined to make pie, coconut scones and chocolate cake... I gave up. 'Whatever makes you feel a part of the celebration,' I thought.
A couple of hours later I looked around and could not find Chita. He was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he was. I trekked off down the road towards the village and reached his mother's house, walked in the front door, and found him sitting on the side of the bed, looking pale and saying " I don't feel well, I have a headache'.
I knew why he was feeling so bad, he'd stayed up all night watching dvd's rather than letting his fears creep into his sleep.
Is it going to work?' were his last words to me before I closed my eyes.
I headed back to the shop and about an hour later, I noticed the minister storming up the road, coat flapping, bible clutched in his hot little hand.
I greeted him and shook his hand firmly,'Where's Chita? Where is everyone? I was booked for eleven o'clock!
Chita was nowhere to be seen. I ran down the road, to the house, and found him lying back reading a New Idea..... He had no intention of being at the blessing for his own shop, 'Joe's there isn't he?'
I couldn't believe it.
This is embarassing. You need to come and come now. I did my bossy school teacher and he rolled his eyes at me.
You go, and I will follow.
No bloody way. You are going in front of me.
He used every evasion tactic in the book to avoid moving. He picked up a tank top instead of a shirt. At all formal occasions Fijians, were perfectly ironed shirts and sulus. Then he grabbed a dirty t-shirt and put it on inside out. His shorts were filthy. He then bent down slowly searching for his boots.
No boots, your flip flops are over there.
I was semi volcanic. He eased himself off the bed and took the long way out of the house, stopping to say 'bula' to his sister-in-law.
Come on! Get moving! I semi-screeched.
He loitered at the bus stop talking to potential passengers and as I shot a glance up the road, I realised the deck was full and the minister had started...
Shit!
Between clenched teeth I muttered 'If you don't get moving, I will push you up the road myself!'
A cheeky sly grin in my direction from him and a mega shove from me sent him reeling in the right direction.
He turned to me saying 'Hey! What are you doing?'
Its already started and we aren't even there' I bleated.
We arrive at the deck to see everyone seated facing the sea. His brothers are in freshly pressed, brightly coloured shirts with tailored sulus. Chita sits down beside them (in filthy shorts and a t-shirt) and I flee to the doorway of the shop.
The minister is in the middle of welcoming our first customers, locals from the Naviti and Maui Bay. He is so happy to see everyone together.
What a proud moment for the village.
'A milk bar which will support the local village, work with it its next door neighbour the dive shop and create jobs for the village.'
He then began directing comments at Chita in Fijian along the lines of:
'This is a great opportunity for you. Don't waste it. Let the village be proud of you.
You can be a role model for the young boys of the village, showing them that hard work brings its rewards.'
You can help stop the kava drinking at all hours, the boys of the village wandering around without anything to do, and stop the marijuana smoking.
Lucky it was just family at this stage.
Inside the shop Megan and I were busy making signs to let people know the Beach Bure Bar was open. Megan did a fantastic job of setting up the dry goods and then helping create a counter full of colour to keep everyone's eyes roaming around the shop.
I could hear the kava clapping and realised that it would take all day, so Megan and I could relax, get the shop set up, while people started rolling in to join the celebration.
I could not believe how everyone knew. The bush telegraph is fast. All the elders from the village, and family members. In the afternoon people started appearing from up and down the Coral Coast.
The kava clapping continued until 11 pm that night.
I knew how much everyone wanted this business to work. It was only Chita's self doubt stopping him. His family were so proud. Everyone wished him well, over and over again, all day and all night.
Couldn't wait for everyone to leave so we could talk about it.
Are you happy I got the bar open?
Yes.
Did you have any idea that all these people would come to wish you well?
No.
We cuddled up on the mat, and he whispered in my ear
'You're an amazing woman you know!
It made the anxiety and stress I had been through worthwhile. I have realised that when times get tough for him, his personal response is flight. My own reaction is the complete opposite - Fight.
Two weeks later I was in a position where I had to stand up for what I believed in and boy did it cause a quiet tense situation in the Tubuna household. Fijians never raise their voice, so if they want to let you know you have done something wrong, you get the silent treatment.... not pleasant at all.
It all started the day, Joe and Chita got carried away with a Fijian idea on promoting the business. A group of van drivers from the Hideaway resort appeared on the Tuesday morning wanting cups of tea and buns.
Can we give them for free?
Yes. If you think they are going to bring us business.
They came, they drank, they left.
However, the next day Joe had come up with the brilliant idea of wooing them back with kava( talk about overkill). At all family meetings I had stated that kava was banned from the deck. We are trying to create a family atmosphere, where mums, kids and family can come. If there is kava; it becomes mens business and no one will visit the shop. I remember heads nodding in agreement.
I rock up to the shop with the daily baking - a tray of pizza, banana breads and coconut scones, as well as a loaves of crusty bread and my now famous fruit loaf. Chita is in the doorway.
I ask him what is going on and he just shakes his head. Its Joe's idea!
I sit in the shop, while a group of men begin a kava session that starts at 11 am and around 4 pm when I have made the grand total of $17.50 for day. I am explosive.
I wait until the kava bowl, in this case a large green plastic bucket that I use to bring water for the kettle, is empty and I grab it.
I am sorry boys, but this is business. Kava and business do not go together. I am going to have to ask you to move.
Chita saw me, knew I meant business and started clearing an area beside the deck, on the beach.
Joe emerges through the doorway and I give him a serve.
I am sorry Joe, I have spoken to these gentlemen and told them its time to move. I need room for customers to drink tea and coffee.
He turned tail and the guests all disappeared in silence.
Chita appears in the doorway with a full bucket of kava and I grab it.
Sorry, no more kava on the deck.
Hey what are you doing?
He turned to talk to Joe, returning to spit at me- I am going with them.
Interestingly enough the village has very strict rules- no kava drinking during the day. Why the bloody hell did Joe think he could get away with it on the deck? I felt vindicated.
However, as I sat at the counter alone, by myself and no one else around, I kept thinking 'Shit. What have I done!'
No Fijian woman ever stands up to a man- that's shaming her partner. No woman stands up to the elder brothers of the Tubuna family. I knew I would suffer the consequences but I needed to distinguish between business and village life. To make the business work, we have to run it differently.
I sat there, in silence, with a quivering lip, until a party of kids came to buy snacks and lolly pops. A couple of ladies walking home dropped in to buy bread and then food started disappearing.
Chita's mum appeared and had a cup of tea. She didn't say anything other than
'Amanda are you okay?'
Yep.
Chita reappears forty minutes later.
Are you coming to Fabi's for dinner?
Yes. He smiles and its all forgotten apparently.
We head off to dinner and I vent to Fabi. Maybe you shouldn't be going home. You know that kerikeri (Fijian concept of share and care though giving) is too strong here. If someone asks for help you have to give it.
I turned to Chita and said 'Maybe I should stay! He nods in agreement.
Its a bit early for you to leave Amanda.
Yes I know. I don't want to go, but funds are running out and I can't live on fresh air. I can't live in his mother's house without contributing food in my weekly shop.
I can't go anywhere and do anything without a bus fare or a fare for the van.
If I can change my flight I can stay a couple of weeks. I really want to go home for mum's 70th birthday.
Chita and I have discussed it a lot, and he wants me to go...
I make my mind up to stay and hold the fort.
The next morning I get up and head into the kitchen. The air is frosty, unusual considering it was around 27 degrees. His mother doesn't speak but moves around doing stuff, but not baking.
I sit down to a cup of coffee and she comes and sits beside me.
Amanda you know I love you as a daughter. You know I speak straight to all my family.
Yes.
I need to talk to you about yesterday.
Okay.
You did a terrible thing!
What!
You shamed the family.
I sighed and listened. When she had finished I replied' I know what I did was wrong if it had taken place in the village, but this is business and we ca't have kava drinking on the deck; we will have no customers.'
Wage is very angry.
I had received the wrath of the smouldering older brother. Things were not looking good.
We are having a family meeting tonight. Ominous.
I walk up to the cafe and Chita is smiling saying'bula'. He disappears to the village and returns saying
'My brothers aren't talking to me. What are we going to do? Are you going to go back to Australia?"
No way. I have got this business started I am going to fight for what I believe in, even if it transgresses the Fijian code of conduct.
The remainder of the day disappeared in cups of tea and coffee, happy chats, a quick swim and then I nicked off to check if I could change my flight.
Fuck. I made the change of Pacific Blue, but my credit card was rejected.
I checked my balance to see if I could make a payment.
Yes, but not enough.
It was a defining moment. I have to go home. I have no money left.
Phyllis offered me a tea, saying you know things will fall a part while you are away. The only one who can make this business work is you. You have to be here, to make it work.
I understand all that, but at the level we had started the business - as a milk bar selling goods the locals want,and making cups of tea, coffee and juice. It was all completely manageable.
I was torn in two. My business brain saying 'stay, it all will go to...' my heart going' no, I don't want to leave' my logical brain winning out saying' darling, you have no choice, without funds you cannot stay'.
My turmoil was interrupted by the mobile phone ringing.
Everyone is waiting for you.
I am coming.
You can walk me down.
No you can do this by yourself.
No, you are my partner and you are coming...
I walk down the hill, find him swinging in the hammock with the opening line of
'If you were a Fijian girl you would have been beaten and chased out of the village'
Lucky I am not Fijian was my retort.
You go, I need to close up the shop.
I head towards the village, dragging each foot in front of the other, rehearsing my speech for the family meeting.
I am rock solid on my actions, but I am unsure of how THE FAMILY are going to respond.
I walk into the house and Natalie calls out
Amanda you must be hungry, have some soup NENE( Chita's mum) has made.
I sit there, trying to sip soup, my guts churning as I glance around and realise that we have a very formal seating arrangement for this evening.
Joe is sitting halfway down the room, Natalie and the kids are sitting in women's zone close to the door, and I am lurking behind them, seated at the table.
Where's Chita?
Its a daily catch cry!
Coming is my response.
Chita mosies on in, through the kitchen, gives me a quick glance and then goes and sits by his brother.
I sit down on the floor beside the ladies, with my back to the couch for support and the family meeting begins with
'amanda what do you want to say? from Chita.
I am startled and my words come tripping over themselves
Well, first of all, Joe I would like to say sorry for my actions. I did not intend to hurt you feelings, shame the family or make you angry. If you wish to serve kava to potential clients, we need to set up an area. The deck is however off limits. Its a place for customers to come and have coffee and tea.
He turns to me
'I accept your apology'.
I am shocked.
Is there anything else you wish to say. I blurted out all my business concerns and then its Natalie's turn.
Her response is telling.
I argued with Joe for months about opening this cafe. I knew this was going to happen.
What were you two thinking? You are always looking after everyone else. Why is it that we are always the ones to buy food and kava for every occasion. No one buys it for us. Why do you two have to be at around every kava bowl...
I knew this wasn't going to work.
An ally at last.
If Amanda hadn't said what she said, I was going to give you both a kick up the bum.
What were you thinking?
She confronts Joe. He is silent.
She confronts Chita. Do you hear me? Do you understand?
He nods and is silent.
The meeting ends positively for me, but Chita can't resist a serve in my direction - You were disrespectful to my culture Amanda.
Bull shit. This is business, not the village.
I wake up with a sick feeling in my stomach. If I can't change my flight I am going to have to go.
I head up the hill to use the internet at Phyllis' house.
No, I can't change my flight.
I walk towards the deck, tears flowing.
Chita I have to go. I don't want to but I have to.
I understand. Go and pack.
I drip down to the village, knocking on Megan's door for a quick girl chat, before I go.
You are doing the right thing Amanda. Chita is supremely capable.
Encouraging words.
Chita reappears, saying 'Lets' go to Nadi for the night.'
I will tell the family.
He tells Joe who goes to mind the shop and then his mum.
You are leaving Amanda? questions Nene.
I nod.
I grab clothes from the line, pack stuff into two bags - things to stay under Nene's bed and things to take with me.
Cindy,a local Australian,appears returning a pizza tray and offering a lift to the airport in a van.
I say 'yes'
Nene comes and sits beside me on the couch. We both cry and hug.
I am going to miss you. You have been so good to the family Amanda
I am bereft, gulping back sobs and trying to be strong.
I ring everyone to let them know I am leaving. Its a shock for all.
Phyllis appears in the RAV 4 wrapped in a lime sulu, to give me a hug.
Chita and I both collapse in his mum's room until transport arrives.
In the van on the way to Nadi, Victor rings, I just hand the phone to Chita and he answers. I just couldn't talk.
One night in Nadi with my beloved and its Tassie here I come!
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Easy like Sunday Morning!
Am back in the village after two months in a fabulous house built on the peak of a hill with a 180 degree view of the lagoon, the breakers and the never ending ocean. Chita and I have enjoyed the peace and quiet and doing our own thing.
I have been in baking frenzy, testing sour dough bread, white bread, buns, fruit brioche, chocolate brioche and pizza. Have had nods of approval from all. I have been able to make a crunchy bread in a humid tropical climate. It does not stay crunchy mind you, but fresh from the oven,deliciously hot, drenched in butter I am reminded of the breads I used to eat in Europe.
Just the incidentals of daily life, take all day here. Going shopping in Sigakatoka takes half a day, washing takes an eon, walking down to the local petrol station for kerosene for the stove takes a couple of hours, and just getting out of bed and having breakfast takes a long time. Its why I am here, to slow down my overactive high achieving brain and try and restore a balance. I have had a struggle here as everything takes so long, communication is intermittent and time passes while the documents for the lease on the cafe sit on Chita's brother Joe's kitchen bench in Suva for two months.....
By accident I rang Natalie, Joe's wife to find out if anything was moving. I had been told quietly and gently that getting the lease signed was family business and just to be patient. I am a very patient person, but Fiji tests my endurance. I discovered that Vilimone, who I met by accident in Suva had assisted Joe to get Isoa to sign the lease. He has been a life saver. He is part of the new special investigations team into anti corruption. Schooled in New Zealand, he bridges Fijian tradition and western sophistication. He continually tells me that Fijians don't have confidence in their abilities, they have no self belief that they can change their worlds, because the Fijian village culture is ruled by the village elders, and Chita being the fourth son, must do their bidding. Fear of the unknown is prevalent.
Found out to my delight that the lease is signed, and the business registered but up for renewal we can finally open.
I called a family meeting and offered $200 to set up the milk bar with stock, and Joe has matched it. We made a list together of things to sell, making our cafe a kind of Seven Eleven for the village, which will bring good will. What will help us make money is the food I am going to make - bread, buns, biscuits, cakes, and pizza.
We are also going to offer one dish a day until we start making money.
I have also found out from Natalie, who is marketing manager at the Naviti resort that they don't make their own bread and buy it from Sigatoka everyday which is forty minutes away and we are five.
I can't believe we are finally going to start and everyone agrees. Chita rushed off yesterday to ask Abo, our favourite builder to come and build the shelves on Monday.
I went into Sigatoka to do a price check on items to sell. I went into a supermarket called Shop and Save and left a list, which will hopefully be priced up with a discounted price for our shop. I will compare them on Monday. Here the Indians are a cunning bunch and you have to keep your wits about you.
Leaving the peace and tranquility of Victor's house was bitter sweet for me. I am back in the village and in trouble the first day, for striding across the village green in shorts without a sulu. Buggar. I am sleeping on the matrimonial bed, which is as hard as a rock, and seems to have a plank down the middle which is causing back ache and the pillows are rockettes so I end up with a crick in my neck. Oh for the tontine pillows from Oz, I brought with me for Victor...
Its been non stop rain for the last eight days and it definitely affects the mood. I have even ended up with a sniffle while Fijians around me are suffering congested chests, and colds. Today for the first time, the sky is clear and the waves are gently lapping against the reef, instead of the pounding waves of the last week or so. I woke up this morning to coffee and Nene ( chita's mum's) custard pie, without the custard, as she had run out. 'It doesn't matter darling' she says. I quickly wrap my sulu( sarong) around my hips and stroll up to the beach bure bar. The tide is high and I take a refreshing dip before hitting the computer. Being Sunday the internet is running at half pace so I have a good chance of getting this blog done and checking my emails.
Tomorrow will be a busy day, into Sigatoka early to shop, baking in the afternoon, and Monday typing price lists and signs for the shop. Then Tuesday we open. Yippee!!
Between Chita and me there is love and understanding but we are still trying to bridge Fijian and European culture. We have had some spectacular spats. A Fijian raising his voice is not done. My Irish grandmother cannot be contained in me. I suppose we both wish we could instantly understand each other's needs but it is not so.
Fijians live each day as it comes. No planning for tomorrow. What I have to eat today, I eat it all. What I have to drink today I share and drink it all. What money I have today, I spend. If we have an argument Chita wipes it out of his mind, and I am the elephant who doesn't forget. I am learning to wipe off the stretching that occurs daily.
I have been talking about the business for two years now, and thought he had the initiative to start but he cannot. Joe is exactly the same. I am the driving force on this boat. Chita is a great helper so we will get there.
I can extend my visa for two months and get this show on the road. The only sacrifice is ending up with no reserved savings and missing my mum's seventieth birthday and a return flight and even money to spend on her birthday dinner is out of the question. I had the good fortune in Suva last weekend to go to an Indian bazaar and buy 8 cushion covers brightly coloured and glittering for $20!! My mother always says to change a room, start with the cushion covers...
Winter here is still warm,May is on its way with moli(thick green skinned moli) and sunshine so I am happy to stay....
The Beach Bure bar will be open for business on Tuesday!!! Yippee!
I have been in baking frenzy, testing sour dough bread, white bread, buns, fruit brioche, chocolate brioche and pizza. Have had nods of approval from all. I have been able to make a crunchy bread in a humid tropical climate. It does not stay crunchy mind you, but fresh from the oven,deliciously hot, drenched in butter I am reminded of the breads I used to eat in Europe.
Just the incidentals of daily life, take all day here. Going shopping in Sigakatoka takes half a day, washing takes an eon, walking down to the local petrol station for kerosene for the stove takes a couple of hours, and just getting out of bed and having breakfast takes a long time. Its why I am here, to slow down my overactive high achieving brain and try and restore a balance. I have had a struggle here as everything takes so long, communication is intermittent and time passes while the documents for the lease on the cafe sit on Chita's brother Joe's kitchen bench in Suva for two months.....
By accident I rang Natalie, Joe's wife to find out if anything was moving. I had been told quietly and gently that getting the lease signed was family business and just to be patient. I am a very patient person, but Fiji tests my endurance. I discovered that Vilimone, who I met by accident in Suva had assisted Joe to get Isoa to sign the lease. He has been a life saver. He is part of the new special investigations team into anti corruption. Schooled in New Zealand, he bridges Fijian tradition and western sophistication. He continually tells me that Fijians don't have confidence in their abilities, they have no self belief that they can change their worlds, because the Fijian village culture is ruled by the village elders, and Chita being the fourth son, must do their bidding. Fear of the unknown is prevalent.
Found out to my delight that the lease is signed, and the business registered but up for renewal we can finally open.
I called a family meeting and offered $200 to set up the milk bar with stock, and Joe has matched it. We made a list together of things to sell, making our cafe a kind of Seven Eleven for the village, which will bring good will. What will help us make money is the food I am going to make - bread, buns, biscuits, cakes, and pizza.
We are also going to offer one dish a day until we start making money.
I have also found out from Natalie, who is marketing manager at the Naviti resort that they don't make their own bread and buy it from Sigatoka everyday which is forty minutes away and we are five.
I can't believe we are finally going to start and everyone agrees. Chita rushed off yesterday to ask Abo, our favourite builder to come and build the shelves on Monday.
I went into Sigatoka to do a price check on items to sell. I went into a supermarket called Shop and Save and left a list, which will hopefully be priced up with a discounted price for our shop. I will compare them on Monday. Here the Indians are a cunning bunch and you have to keep your wits about you.
Leaving the peace and tranquility of Victor's house was bitter sweet for me. I am back in the village and in trouble the first day, for striding across the village green in shorts without a sulu. Buggar. I am sleeping on the matrimonial bed, which is as hard as a rock, and seems to have a plank down the middle which is causing back ache and the pillows are rockettes so I end up with a crick in my neck. Oh for the tontine pillows from Oz, I brought with me for Victor...
Its been non stop rain for the last eight days and it definitely affects the mood. I have even ended up with a sniffle while Fijians around me are suffering congested chests, and colds. Today for the first time, the sky is clear and the waves are gently lapping against the reef, instead of the pounding waves of the last week or so. I woke up this morning to coffee and Nene ( chita's mum's) custard pie, without the custard, as she had run out. 'It doesn't matter darling' she says. I quickly wrap my sulu( sarong) around my hips and stroll up to the beach bure bar. The tide is high and I take a refreshing dip before hitting the computer. Being Sunday the internet is running at half pace so I have a good chance of getting this blog done and checking my emails.
Tomorrow will be a busy day, into Sigatoka early to shop, baking in the afternoon, and Monday typing price lists and signs for the shop. Then Tuesday we open. Yippee!!
Between Chita and me there is love and understanding but we are still trying to bridge Fijian and European culture. We have had some spectacular spats. A Fijian raising his voice is not done. My Irish grandmother cannot be contained in me. I suppose we both wish we could instantly understand each other's needs but it is not so.
Fijians live each day as it comes. No planning for tomorrow. What I have to eat today, I eat it all. What I have to drink today I share and drink it all. What money I have today, I spend. If we have an argument Chita wipes it out of his mind, and I am the elephant who doesn't forget. I am learning to wipe off the stretching that occurs daily.
I have been talking about the business for two years now, and thought he had the initiative to start but he cannot. Joe is exactly the same. I am the driving force on this boat. Chita is a great helper so we will get there.
I can extend my visa for two months and get this show on the road. The only sacrifice is ending up with no reserved savings and missing my mum's seventieth birthday and a return flight and even money to spend on her birthday dinner is out of the question. I had the good fortune in Suva last weekend to go to an Indian bazaar and buy 8 cushion covers brightly coloured and glittering for $20!! My mother always says to change a room, start with the cushion covers...
Winter here is still warm,May is on its way with moli(thick green skinned moli) and sunshine so I am happy to stay....
The Beach Bure bar will be open for business on Tuesday!!! Yippee!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Bainimarama and me
Was having a tough week with the Beach Bure Bar project, trying to coordinate two brothers for a meeting to discuss how we are going to get the lease. A cousin of Chita's who is in a special investigations unit with the government, offered me some advice and even prepared the papers for Joe, (Chita's brother) over a month a go, to present to the landowner. Where were they? Sitting on the kitchen bench and being given a wide berth.
I needed time out so I went to Suva for the afternoon and found myself having a coffee and a chat with Vili. He has lived in New Zealand so he can appreciate the frustrations I have been succumbing to. However, in Fiji, all is not lost. He told me that Fijians fear change. They do not believe in themselves to instigate change. Halleluiah! Am I hearing you brother! It explains a lot. Fijians don't like conflict. They don't like saying no, so they omit,evade and avoid at all costs. It drives me nuts.
Anyhow, he asked me if I had a laptop. I said 'Yes, but its back in Votua. Do you need something typed? I am a fast typer.'
Within minutes I had half the special investigations team in Phyllis, an American's car, and they were sorting out her land and business issues for free on the way down to the Coral Coast.
The report to be typed is called 'Collusion in High Places' and addresses the issues of corruption by an elite handful who have made a packet out of Fiji. One of my friend's has been involved in a land dispute and was wrongfully deported two months a go, not by the Immigration department but by the Resort which did not like his imput. It would make a good movie. He was arrested on a Friday evening around 6 pm and was immediately handcuffed. No one showed him ID. His colleague had enough time to throw a bag of stuff together and he was whisked away to Suva for a night. One of his captors was a local policeman. Handsomely paid no doubt. Anyhow, the next day, his captors brought kava and offered him a bowl as an apology for taking him. He was not allowed access to a telephone. He was taken to the airport terminal and the ticket was in an envelope marked with the name of the resort..... Jesus.
Anyhow, his testimony is evidence for this report on corruption in high places and explains the methods used by foreign investors, corrupt government ministers and even corrupt lawyers to railroad the local landowners, pay them a pittance and reap huge financial rewards.
My heart was in my mouth as I read it. My blood boiled over occasionally as I was typing and I had to stop and let out an expletive or two. Vili sat beside me writing as I was typing and then read it out loud as I typed away. It was an exhilerating experience. Not only was I helping a friend, but I was one step away from the commodore, as this report should have been presented to parliament this week.
It feel good to be doing something that is real. I have been chasing my tail for the last month trying to get the Beach Bure Bar on the road and nothing. I also need to state that in the last month we have had a group wedding six or seven couples from the village, marrying on the same day. In Fiji you have a civil ceremony and when you can afford it you hold the village wedding. A group wedding makes economic sense at this time, when many have no jobs. The preparations go on for a week. Then old aunty who was 92 died in her bed on a Saturday morning. Another week of preparations, with much kava, and much boy talk; the women are left at home. Then there are visits from the University of the South Pacific to discuss a water project. Then Chita is on the Korolevu Wai ( water) committee and has a job checking the meter on a daily basis. Then there is the plantation to be cleared, the beach to be raked, the grass outside the beach bure bar to be cut and before you know it a month has gone by...
I have been working as a tutor to two Australian couples whose children are being home schooled. Have just found out today that one of the families has bought a farm and is returning to Albury so my services are no longer required.
The last month has been food for thought. Business here is a long slow process. My idea of getting the cafe open and starting a woodfired oven have not happened. I need a job to stay. I keep applying but they have to be offered to Fijians first or the salary scale is too low and most businesses think I would not be interested. It looks like I might have to come back to Australia for an injection of good food, hot water, clean clothes, and maybe extra cash in my pocket. Its not what I wanted, but money leaches from my pocket here.
There are family bills to be contributed to, family celebrations to be contributed to, weekly food bill and transport.
I finally got Joe's wife Natalie to agree to bring him to Amelia, the mother's house for a meeting on Tuesday. The day dawned and we had visitors from USP at the house so I was busy cooking and told Chita to send a message and ask to postpone it as reception when it rains is not great. He gets a call around 8.30 asking for our whereabouts. Wednesday night, he turns to me, 'are we still going down to see Joe?' of course we bloody are, I felt like saying but just nodded. We arrive at the house to find that there has been no water for three days, so Natalie and Joe had taken their smelly nephew back to the hotel for a bath. Chita disappears for a smoke and I wait. 8.00 Joe and Natalie arrive. No sign of Chita. I ring him and tell him to come. Sometimes my patience is sorely tested.
We sit down for the meeting and Natalie basically lets the boys have it. It was a mistake to build the cafe there without a lease. We agreed to set up a milk bar initially with funds from Chita's superannuation. Joe and Chita both agreed to take Uncle and go and see the landowner to see if we can get the lease papers signed. It was supposed to be the next day. Yes Amanda, we are going.
I send Chita a text saying' hope it goes well'. I ring him after work only to discover the meeting was postponed because of an Easter ritual - fasting from four am to 4 p.m. I could roll my eyes and curse, but by now I am used to it.
Last night after dinner Chita went down to the village again to discuss the strategy for getting Isoa to sign. I have not seen him today yet. There is a fifty fifty chance it may have happened. I will wait until I hear.
Back to me. I am losing weight from walking up and down a steep hill everyday. I am feeling fit. I am loving not wearing tight fitting clothes. I am loving cooking and baking.
I just get lonely sometimes and miss my girlfriends. When you live with all guys, they are a sometimes talkative and sometimes very quiet lot. Chita talks to Joe in Fijian. If its a long conversation its either about rugby or fishing or farming.
I am in Suva for the weekend to escape the village and be alone with my man. He will stay up late of course to watch the HongKong 7's and I will wander around the shops, have a coffee and cake somewhere and do girlie things.
I needed time out so I went to Suva for the afternoon and found myself having a coffee and a chat with Vili. He has lived in New Zealand so he can appreciate the frustrations I have been succumbing to. However, in Fiji, all is not lost. He told me that Fijians fear change. They do not believe in themselves to instigate change. Halleluiah! Am I hearing you brother! It explains a lot. Fijians don't like conflict. They don't like saying no, so they omit,evade and avoid at all costs. It drives me nuts.
Anyhow, he asked me if I had a laptop. I said 'Yes, but its back in Votua. Do you need something typed? I am a fast typer.'
Within minutes I had half the special investigations team in Phyllis, an American's car, and they were sorting out her land and business issues for free on the way down to the Coral Coast.
The report to be typed is called 'Collusion in High Places' and addresses the issues of corruption by an elite handful who have made a packet out of Fiji. One of my friend's has been involved in a land dispute and was wrongfully deported two months a go, not by the Immigration department but by the Resort which did not like his imput. It would make a good movie. He was arrested on a Friday evening around 6 pm and was immediately handcuffed. No one showed him ID. His colleague had enough time to throw a bag of stuff together and he was whisked away to Suva for a night. One of his captors was a local policeman. Handsomely paid no doubt. Anyhow, the next day, his captors brought kava and offered him a bowl as an apology for taking him. He was not allowed access to a telephone. He was taken to the airport terminal and the ticket was in an envelope marked with the name of the resort..... Jesus.
Anyhow, his testimony is evidence for this report on corruption in high places and explains the methods used by foreign investors, corrupt government ministers and even corrupt lawyers to railroad the local landowners, pay them a pittance and reap huge financial rewards.
My heart was in my mouth as I read it. My blood boiled over occasionally as I was typing and I had to stop and let out an expletive or two. Vili sat beside me writing as I was typing and then read it out loud as I typed away. It was an exhilerating experience. Not only was I helping a friend, but I was one step away from the commodore, as this report should have been presented to parliament this week.
It feel good to be doing something that is real. I have been chasing my tail for the last month trying to get the Beach Bure Bar on the road and nothing. I also need to state that in the last month we have had a group wedding six or seven couples from the village, marrying on the same day. In Fiji you have a civil ceremony and when you can afford it you hold the village wedding. A group wedding makes economic sense at this time, when many have no jobs. The preparations go on for a week. Then old aunty who was 92 died in her bed on a Saturday morning. Another week of preparations, with much kava, and much boy talk; the women are left at home. Then there are visits from the University of the South Pacific to discuss a water project. Then Chita is on the Korolevu Wai ( water) committee and has a job checking the meter on a daily basis. Then there is the plantation to be cleared, the beach to be raked, the grass outside the beach bure bar to be cut and before you know it a month has gone by...
I have been working as a tutor to two Australian couples whose children are being home schooled. Have just found out today that one of the families has bought a farm and is returning to Albury so my services are no longer required.
The last month has been food for thought. Business here is a long slow process. My idea of getting the cafe open and starting a woodfired oven have not happened. I need a job to stay. I keep applying but they have to be offered to Fijians first or the salary scale is too low and most businesses think I would not be interested. It looks like I might have to come back to Australia for an injection of good food, hot water, clean clothes, and maybe extra cash in my pocket. Its not what I wanted, but money leaches from my pocket here.
There are family bills to be contributed to, family celebrations to be contributed to, weekly food bill and transport.
I finally got Joe's wife Natalie to agree to bring him to Amelia, the mother's house for a meeting on Tuesday. The day dawned and we had visitors from USP at the house so I was busy cooking and told Chita to send a message and ask to postpone it as reception when it rains is not great. He gets a call around 8.30 asking for our whereabouts. Wednesday night, he turns to me, 'are we still going down to see Joe?' of course we bloody are, I felt like saying but just nodded. We arrive at the house to find that there has been no water for three days, so Natalie and Joe had taken their smelly nephew back to the hotel for a bath. Chita disappears for a smoke and I wait. 8.00 Joe and Natalie arrive. No sign of Chita. I ring him and tell him to come. Sometimes my patience is sorely tested.
We sit down for the meeting and Natalie basically lets the boys have it. It was a mistake to build the cafe there without a lease. We agreed to set up a milk bar initially with funds from Chita's superannuation. Joe and Chita both agreed to take Uncle and go and see the landowner to see if we can get the lease papers signed. It was supposed to be the next day. Yes Amanda, we are going.
I send Chita a text saying' hope it goes well'. I ring him after work only to discover the meeting was postponed because of an Easter ritual - fasting from four am to 4 p.m. I could roll my eyes and curse, but by now I am used to it.
Last night after dinner Chita went down to the village again to discuss the strategy for getting Isoa to sign. I have not seen him today yet. There is a fifty fifty chance it may have happened. I will wait until I hear.
Back to me. I am losing weight from walking up and down a steep hill everyday. I am feeling fit. I am loving not wearing tight fitting clothes. I am loving cooking and baking.
I just get lonely sometimes and miss my girlfriends. When you live with all guys, they are a sometimes talkative and sometimes very quiet lot. Chita talks to Joe in Fijian. If its a long conversation its either about rugby or fishing or farming.
I am in Suva for the weekend to escape the village and be alone with my man. He will stay up late of course to watch the HongKong 7's and I will wander around the shops, have a coffee and cake somewhere and do girlie things.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Fiji Time!
I can't believe it has been nearly two weeks since I wrote my last blog. In Australia I was on the computer everyday and checking my emails several times a day. Welcome to Fiji where internet access is limited, slow, and probably not working. I have tried to use the hotel's email but a virus got into the system this week. A hillside neighbour has wireless and it only functions early in the morning or late at night. If I go into Suva or Sigatoka I have to pay heaps.
I have been trying to get things moving with the business but I am being hampered by family hierachy, family priorities and Chita's resistance to get moving. We have a potential land dispute on our hands which may seem scary for Australians but is every day life now in the cleaned up Fiji. I would like to get a lease signed by the landowner,however, he does not read or write and does not trust paper. He also prefers to keep his hand out constantly and expects to be helped. I don't want to go full hog into the cafe and find we are paying rent and gifts to keep going. We need a few grand to open but without a lease we can't get a bank loan. Grants are available from the government but that is also a go slow area as the budget was only released last week.
Chita is pushing me to quit even trying and just head back to Australia and take him with me. This is something I can't think about. I am an A type personality. I came to do a job and I am going to do my darndest to get it happening. I optimistically thought I would have everything researched and ready. Builders finishing off and we would be earning an income within six months. Hmmmm.
The reality has hit. I need to get a job. The economy is depressed and not much is being advertised in the paper. What is on offer will be paid Fiji wages. At this point I don't really mind, as any sort of cash will do... I am slowly becoming Fijian. I applied for a job with the Australian government as a small business advisor. I had my interview and was told my cv was exceptional and I was more than capable of doing the job, however it was given to a Fijian..... Frustrating. The salary was $27,000 Aust which is a middle income wage here...
Am also trying to liaise with the family. I need to get a meeting organised with the family and the landowner. I have one of the advisors for the anti- corruption board on side offering to act as a mediator. However, the family are resisting. It is their land which was signed over to this landowner by a trick. It is not theirs on paper, but to the village, yes. That is enough for them but not enough for me.
I have to be careful as women do not have all that much say. It has to go through the head of the family or the eldest brother. Chita's eldest brother is never around so I am pushing for Joe to act.
In the meantime my funds are disappearing and my desire to get a job, earn some cash and have some choices about what to do on weekends is high. I did not come to Fiji to be a housegirl and cook and clean. I need a project. Anyone got anything for me? I am desperate.
Chita and I are getting on well. Fijian relationships between men and women are different to us. They don't talk much, and fulfil clearly understood roles. I find that the Fijian male has a full life, of meetings, family functions and rugby, whereas the women are at home, or if they work in the hotels, they are out partying and picking up. I fall into neither category. I love cooking and being a homemaker but I also miss interesting and stimulating female company. Last night I wanted to visit a neighbour and discovered the torch was missing. I couldn't head down the hill in the rain without one, as I would end up sliding down the hill on my ample backside. Although, weeks of going up and down the steep hill, has tightened up my gluteus maximus.
Its an interesting plight I face. A career girl for so long and now I am in limited circumstances. I understand now why Fijian girls have babies. It gives you something to do. Have told Chita, a baby could be my new project... I try and give myself treats - a frozen yoghurt once a week at a Hawaian ice cream parlour in Pacific Harbour. I walk down the beach and end up having chats with the ladies at the Handicraft. I chat to Melania,who was the first ever policewoman in Fiji. We talked about a Fijian pumpkin dessert she is going to show me how to make.
I am trying to keep fit. I am trying to be positive. I am trying. Every other day, I give it all up, and give in to Fiji Time. I forget about deadlines and targets and go with the flow. I sit on the bus daydreaming. I chat to the van or taxi drivers about life, I walk for no reason anywhere. I read the paper everyday and keep up with Fijian affairs. I have an afternoon nap. I feel great afterwards and cook and clean with gusto. I find australian dvd's to listen to aussie accents and thoroughly enjoyed watching Jindabyne on my own yesterday afternoon.
With Chita, its the everyday that is the glue between us. I am less likely to have a hissy fit these days, as I have a better understanding of Fijian culture. Do I have a place here? Can I make a valuable contribution? Will I always be a European or kavalagi and never a kaiviti ( local)....
I think, ponder, let go....
I try and make contact with any female in the vicinity - a sixty year old American ex alcoholic who has taken up AA in Fiji with a vengeance, a sweet Christian American girl who lives in Lautoka and has been a missionary for eight years, An Italian who smokes too much dope and accidentally gave part of a cookie to her two year old son; Yes I will talk to anyone...
I visit Chita's mum once a week and fill her in on a week's worth of gossip. I contribute by paying for a fare for her somewhere, buy washing powder or food, and help with the electricity bill. In Fiji its care and share. I like this aspect very much.
I have been trying to get things moving with the business but I am being hampered by family hierachy, family priorities and Chita's resistance to get moving. We have a potential land dispute on our hands which may seem scary for Australians but is every day life now in the cleaned up Fiji. I would like to get a lease signed by the landowner,however, he does not read or write and does not trust paper. He also prefers to keep his hand out constantly and expects to be helped. I don't want to go full hog into the cafe and find we are paying rent and gifts to keep going. We need a few grand to open but without a lease we can't get a bank loan. Grants are available from the government but that is also a go slow area as the budget was only released last week.
Chita is pushing me to quit even trying and just head back to Australia and take him with me. This is something I can't think about. I am an A type personality. I came to do a job and I am going to do my darndest to get it happening. I optimistically thought I would have everything researched and ready. Builders finishing off and we would be earning an income within six months. Hmmmm.
The reality has hit. I need to get a job. The economy is depressed and not much is being advertised in the paper. What is on offer will be paid Fiji wages. At this point I don't really mind, as any sort of cash will do... I am slowly becoming Fijian. I applied for a job with the Australian government as a small business advisor. I had my interview and was told my cv was exceptional and I was more than capable of doing the job, however it was given to a Fijian..... Frustrating. The salary was $27,000 Aust which is a middle income wage here...
Am also trying to liaise with the family. I need to get a meeting organised with the family and the landowner. I have one of the advisors for the anti- corruption board on side offering to act as a mediator. However, the family are resisting. It is their land which was signed over to this landowner by a trick. It is not theirs on paper, but to the village, yes. That is enough for them but not enough for me.
I have to be careful as women do not have all that much say. It has to go through the head of the family or the eldest brother. Chita's eldest brother is never around so I am pushing for Joe to act.
In the meantime my funds are disappearing and my desire to get a job, earn some cash and have some choices about what to do on weekends is high. I did not come to Fiji to be a housegirl and cook and clean. I need a project. Anyone got anything for me? I am desperate.
Chita and I are getting on well. Fijian relationships between men and women are different to us. They don't talk much, and fulfil clearly understood roles. I find that the Fijian male has a full life, of meetings, family functions and rugby, whereas the women are at home, or if they work in the hotels, they are out partying and picking up. I fall into neither category. I love cooking and being a homemaker but I also miss interesting and stimulating female company. Last night I wanted to visit a neighbour and discovered the torch was missing. I couldn't head down the hill in the rain without one, as I would end up sliding down the hill on my ample backside. Although, weeks of going up and down the steep hill, has tightened up my gluteus maximus.
Its an interesting plight I face. A career girl for so long and now I am in limited circumstances. I understand now why Fijian girls have babies. It gives you something to do. Have told Chita, a baby could be my new project... I try and give myself treats - a frozen yoghurt once a week at a Hawaian ice cream parlour in Pacific Harbour. I walk down the beach and end up having chats with the ladies at the Handicraft. I chat to Melania,who was the first ever policewoman in Fiji. We talked about a Fijian pumpkin dessert she is going to show me how to make.
I am trying to keep fit. I am trying to be positive. I am trying. Every other day, I give it all up, and give in to Fiji Time. I forget about deadlines and targets and go with the flow. I sit on the bus daydreaming. I chat to the van or taxi drivers about life, I walk for no reason anywhere. I read the paper everyday and keep up with Fijian affairs. I have an afternoon nap. I feel great afterwards and cook and clean with gusto. I find australian dvd's to listen to aussie accents and thoroughly enjoyed watching Jindabyne on my own yesterday afternoon.
With Chita, its the everyday that is the glue between us. I am less likely to have a hissy fit these days, as I have a better understanding of Fijian culture. Do I have a place here? Can I make a valuable contribution? Will I always be a European or kavalagi and never a kaiviti ( local)....
I think, ponder, let go....
I try and make contact with any female in the vicinity - a sixty year old American ex alcoholic who has taken up AA in Fiji with a vengeance, a sweet Christian American girl who lives in Lautoka and has been a missionary for eight years, An Italian who smokes too much dope and accidentally gave part of a cookie to her two year old son; Yes I will talk to anyone...
I visit Chita's mum once a week and fill her in on a week's worth of gossip. I contribute by paying for a fare for her somewhere, buy washing powder or food, and help with the electricity bill. In Fiji its care and share. I like this aspect very much.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Funiculi Funicula!
Sorry I haven't written for a while, life has been hectic and access to the internet is limited for me. Life out of the village up on the hill in a European's house with running water (hot and cold) and electricity even though I keep getting zapped when I turn the switch hanging out of the wall in the kitchen is closer to my concept of normal. We have even set up Village 6 cinemas with dvd's borrowed from a dvd addict here and a projector with screen and speakers to watch movies every night. No tv, so we listen to the radio.
Have just about hit the point of frustration where I need to sign up for a course of Fijian. It is spoken 24/7 around me and I know less than fifty words. I miss out on lots of conversation and being the chatty social person I am, that is frustration absolute. I have discovered the Alliance Francaise does Fijian lessons. So if I get this job, organise my own work permit and start getting paid something closer to a normal salary, I should be able to sign up.
Chita's brother's wife is having twins. According to Fijian tradition, the children of the oldest son must be honoured with gifts. I rustled up $40 to buy kerosene. I don't have a work permit so Chita is paranoid that one of the jealous villagers will dob me in to Immigration and I will be deported. We already have one friend who was deported a couple of weeks a go for being involved in a land dispute. I therefore was not invited to the ceremony on Friday night. On Saturday morning I dropped into the village and was invited for dinner, but wasn't feeling well. On Sunday there seemed to be more kava happening. I blew a head gasket. I did not come to Fiji to sit alone everynight. I am not here to be just a house girl and cook. Had a huge discussion with Chita and we have worked out our frustrations. Me pushing my way into his life, being a kavalagi who have a history of taking over ( the British colonization of Fiji) and a discussion of whether we have a future or not.
It was a chance for me to get my personal frustrations off my chest. I am supporting the household, doing all the cooking and working. I do not even get quality time with my beloved. He is too busy fulfilling obligations to the village. I did not realise that when you fall for a Fijian guy you also get a whole village as well.
A friend from Suva, told me once " You can take the boy out of the village, but you can't take the village out of the boy"
Didn't know what that meant until now. I have applied for a job, got an interview on Wednesday and hopefully will know future directions.
This week has been a group wedding in the village. Six or seven couples who have had a civil ceremony, have children even, but need to have a church wedding. It was the talk of the coast. I found out at 10 pm on Sunday night that Chita was best man for one of the couples and I knew nothing about it. I have a series of moments where I take deep breaths and try to remain calm. So Monday Chita was off to Sigatoka to sign the forms for the civil ceremony for one couple who hadn't done it. Thursday was the wedding. I arrived at the end of the wedding ceremony in the Methodist church and soaked up the fabulous male choir. I then went back to Chita's mums house and met one of the housekeeper's from the Pearl, who I see everyday. We are related. As Chita's future spouse apparently, everyone works out their relationship to me. Pana calls me sister in law, and Asenaca calls me cousin.
I spent Wednesday afternoon having a Betty Crocker bake off and making bread. I made white loaves, two fruit loaves and banana bread which instantly disappeared.
Last night Chita appears around 6 pm kava doped, showers then disappears to the village for another bash. Home around 9 pm to devour food, as he has not eaten all day. He has a pretty bad cold that started a week or so a go and funnily enough is still lingering.
I had to get up at 6 am this morning. Walk down the hill. Walk 30 minutes along the road to Korolevu, then cross the bridge, step down onto the beach, follow the curve of the bay at full tide, up to my knees in salt water and waded around the beach to the Warwick Hotel, to get some money out of the ATM. I then went to the souvenir shopt to buy a paper to change a $20 so I could get $4 exactly for my van fare to Pacific Harbour. All this before 8 am.
I sat outside the Warwick on a stone wall and had the good fortune to be picked up by an airconditioned car. Deluxe. He turned the air conditioning up so I could cool down and my beetroot features could return to normal. All for the princely price of $4. Oh how my life has changed.
Am gathering a set of dvd's for a weekend of viewing if it rains. If it is as gloriously sunny as it was yesterday I will be at the beach, swimming, snorkelling and strolling.
Have just about hit the point of frustration where I need to sign up for a course of Fijian. It is spoken 24/7 around me and I know less than fifty words. I miss out on lots of conversation and being the chatty social person I am, that is frustration absolute. I have discovered the Alliance Francaise does Fijian lessons. So if I get this job, organise my own work permit and start getting paid something closer to a normal salary, I should be able to sign up.
Chita's brother's wife is having twins. According to Fijian tradition, the children of the oldest son must be honoured with gifts. I rustled up $40 to buy kerosene. I don't have a work permit so Chita is paranoid that one of the jealous villagers will dob me in to Immigration and I will be deported. We already have one friend who was deported a couple of weeks a go for being involved in a land dispute. I therefore was not invited to the ceremony on Friday night. On Saturday morning I dropped into the village and was invited for dinner, but wasn't feeling well. On Sunday there seemed to be more kava happening. I blew a head gasket. I did not come to Fiji to sit alone everynight. I am not here to be just a house girl and cook. Had a huge discussion with Chita and we have worked out our frustrations. Me pushing my way into his life, being a kavalagi who have a history of taking over ( the British colonization of Fiji) and a discussion of whether we have a future or not.
It was a chance for me to get my personal frustrations off my chest. I am supporting the household, doing all the cooking and working. I do not even get quality time with my beloved. He is too busy fulfilling obligations to the village. I did not realise that when you fall for a Fijian guy you also get a whole village as well.
A friend from Suva, told me once " You can take the boy out of the village, but you can't take the village out of the boy"
Didn't know what that meant until now. I have applied for a job, got an interview on Wednesday and hopefully will know future directions.
This week has been a group wedding in the village. Six or seven couples who have had a civil ceremony, have children even, but need to have a church wedding. It was the talk of the coast. I found out at 10 pm on Sunday night that Chita was best man for one of the couples and I knew nothing about it. I have a series of moments where I take deep breaths and try to remain calm. So Monday Chita was off to Sigatoka to sign the forms for the civil ceremony for one couple who hadn't done it. Thursday was the wedding. I arrived at the end of the wedding ceremony in the Methodist church and soaked up the fabulous male choir. I then went back to Chita's mums house and met one of the housekeeper's from the Pearl, who I see everyday. We are related. As Chita's future spouse apparently, everyone works out their relationship to me. Pana calls me sister in law, and Asenaca calls me cousin.
I spent Wednesday afternoon having a Betty Crocker bake off and making bread. I made white loaves, two fruit loaves and banana bread which instantly disappeared.
Last night Chita appears around 6 pm kava doped, showers then disappears to the village for another bash. Home around 9 pm to devour food, as he has not eaten all day. He has a pretty bad cold that started a week or so a go and funnily enough is still lingering.
I had to get up at 6 am this morning. Walk down the hill. Walk 30 minutes along the road to Korolevu, then cross the bridge, step down onto the beach, follow the curve of the bay at full tide, up to my knees in salt water and waded around the beach to the Warwick Hotel, to get some money out of the ATM. I then went to the souvenir shopt to buy a paper to change a $20 so I could get $4 exactly for my van fare to Pacific Harbour. All this before 8 am.
I sat outside the Warwick on a stone wall and had the good fortune to be picked up by an airconditioned car. Deluxe. He turned the air conditioning up so I could cool down and my beetroot features could return to normal. All for the princely price of $4. Oh how my life has changed.
Am gathering a set of dvd's for a weekend of viewing if it rains. If it is as gloriously sunny as it was yesterday I will be at the beach, swimming, snorkelling and strolling.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
On again Off again
Had a family meeting last night and discussed the opening of the cafe. Yes it is going to happen. Chita and I have had chats. So much energy and effort has gone into the building, that it seems pointless not to get it going and get something in return for our efforts.
I am dealing with a culture which has no concept of time. Things are said to me and I sit here wondering whether they mean today, tomorrow, never or maybe. Its been a frustrating time. I have given Chita an ultimatum ( which means absolutely nothing to him but everything to me) to get the cafe open as a small milkbar as soon as possible.
I have had a win. In Suva last week I meet a cousin who is on the anti corruption board and is also going to advise me on how to get a work permit. Its who you know here.
I spoke to Natalie, who works at the Naviti Hotel, and is Joe (Chita's brothers' wife) about what we can do to push these men forward. She is going to get me contact details for bricks, a vocational unit in Suva that makes cheap chairs and tables, and I am somehow going to get the electricity and water on by the end of February.
I have decided that too much information is not good for a Fijian male. They process one thing at a time and sit on that until its done. It drives me nuts but that's the way it is.
I have now developed the method of sneakily planning, organising and networking quietly and will present everything I have done as a fait accomplis.
I need a return on my investment, I can show him how to start budgeting and saving money. What a challenge!
Its not that they don't want to but somehow daily life gets in the way. Its been a challenging, frustrating and culturally different experience for me.
Living here has developed a gentle rhythm and I am up at 6 or 6.30 at the latest everyday. I am eating simply, exercising everyday and never lonely. I came here to find a way to bridge two cultures and make a business and relationship work. A huge challenge and we are still talking to each other so something must be going right.
I will keep you posted.
I am dealing with a culture which has no concept of time. Things are said to me and I sit here wondering whether they mean today, tomorrow, never or maybe. Its been a frustrating time. I have given Chita an ultimatum ( which means absolutely nothing to him but everything to me) to get the cafe open as a small milkbar as soon as possible.
I have had a win. In Suva last week I meet a cousin who is on the anti corruption board and is also going to advise me on how to get a work permit. Its who you know here.
I spoke to Natalie, who works at the Naviti Hotel, and is Joe (Chita's brothers' wife) about what we can do to push these men forward. She is going to get me contact details for bricks, a vocational unit in Suva that makes cheap chairs and tables, and I am somehow going to get the electricity and water on by the end of February.
I have decided that too much information is not good for a Fijian male. They process one thing at a time and sit on that until its done. It drives me nuts but that's the way it is.
I have now developed the method of sneakily planning, organising and networking quietly and will present everything I have done as a fait accomplis.
I need a return on my investment, I can show him how to start budgeting and saving money. What a challenge!
Its not that they don't want to but somehow daily life gets in the way. Its been a challenging, frustrating and culturally different experience for me.
Living here has developed a gentle rhythm and I am up at 6 or 6.30 at the latest everyday. I am eating simply, exercising everyday and never lonely. I came here to find a way to bridge two cultures and make a business and relationship work. A huge challenge and we are still talking to each other so something must be going right.
I will keep you posted.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Unexpected circumstances!
Last week was challenging to say the least.We had a huge fight. Its always over something trivial which has an underlying serious significance. A funeral took place in the village over the last week, revealed to me by Chita as we walked back to village and he is berating me yet again for my state of dress. I had a sulu and a tank top, which in seemingly 40 + degrees is the very least, but my bare arms were offending all and sundry. He told me off in front of his close friend Joe, whose downcast eyes indicated his embarassment. I entered the house and let fly.
My response was:
I have just walked past your two aunties, both bare armed and I am not going to put up with your controlling behaviour anymore.
Chita storms off to have a bath, then returns and apologises, but when I realised the underlying pressure upon him, I can understand why he has been so paranoid. The land on which our cafe is built is Chita's family land. However, some years a go (time is always unclear in Fiji) the land was signed over to another family - the usurpers. Unfortunately the current Mayor of the village ( an usurper) is collaborating with one or some of the village elders to basically graft whatever he can. Money for a water project has disappeared, the village ownership of Mike's Dives has somehow mysteriously been signed over to him, he received payment for lease of a house to an American, and no documentation exists and he has asked again for the full amount, and another American marine biologist has been threatened with payments to the usurping landowner but luckily his paperwork does exist and cannot be touched. This blackmailing, bullying, constantly asking for money, and no accountability is unfortunately the new Fiji. Its the old Fiji that has developed a corrupt culture which has forgotten its 'share and care' mentality and basically rips off both the ignorant and unaware indiginous people as well as the kavalagi.
I have had a week of being the Fijian 'wife' who has to cook for three males: Pele, Walai and Chita every night, and make interesting meals from 2-3 ingredients.I have started the budget so its bottom of the fridge meals for big eaters this week.
Chita's mum Melia has gone to Nabutini to be with Chita's sister who has just had a baby. I had a hire car two weeks a go so I took Melia into the hospital and met Lasaro the new edition to the Tubuna household. He's a creamy caffe latte colour and very alert.
The funeral took over the life of the village. I came home to find the men of the village carrying poles and sheets of tin to construct a room on the village green. From the first night, the clanging sound of the kava being pounded rang in my ears. I cooked dinner on Tuesday night, and had just sat down with Chita to eat, when the door opened and a stream of a dozen or so Fijian men poured in.
ring your food and sit on the floor and eat.
I took one look and escaped to the bedroom, Chita pulling an extension cord behind me so I could watch a dvd. I was relegated to the bedroom. I did not even have time to get my chicken soup. I fell asleep and woke up around 6 am to see Chita whispering
'If you want a coffee, better go and make one, while everyone is still asleep'
I tiptoed around the sea of sleeping males, and sat on the backstep drinking. Had no idea what had gone on, what was going on, and when I asked Chita, he replied
'I will tell you later.'
I got a message from a friendly marine biologist asking me for a lunch of pasta and I flew up the hill, ravenous, and wanting to find out what had gone on. Apparently, as Chita is the youngest son, he can be called by one of the elders to man the kava bowl all night; which he did. One of his uncles had told him that ' a group would be sleeping in the house' and everyone obeys the Fijian hierarchy without question.
Being a European (anyone who is not Fijian)means being overcharged on a daily basis. I have had the frustrating experience of catching vans and buses to my job in Pacific Harbour everyday for a week. I have realised that the only way to not be ripped off, is to basically work out what I am prepared to pay, and go to the bank, and change $40 Fijian dollars into $2 notes so that I am ready for the daily onslaught. If I have no change I get charged $5 instead of $4. I spend $40 a week on transport just to get to work and back and its more than I spent on petrol back in Australia for a week.
Its been a big week of making some serious decisions. I came here all fired up to set up a woodfired bakery and make pizza, pane, biscotti and torte for eager tourists wanting fresh food, and unfortunately our business in its current state of 'no lease' will fall victim to constant handouts, free meals, and donations to whatever. We can't afford it and I don't think I could stand it. Its sad really. Chita's enthusiasm is inspiring but even he has just had enough.
We both can't face opening this business.
Its a turning point for him and I. One I did not expect at all. I thought I was here to set up a business, make enough money to build a house and create a tropical lifestyle for myself. However, that has been put on hold. I am now backing off from my bakery project for at least a year, and with a wait and see attitude.
Its disappointing but I am oh so glad, we talked about it before we opened. We are both unhappy about it but he is exhausted from setting it up and just wants to escape.
I am happy to spend the next few months in Fiji working out our relationship, working part-time at the Pearl, swiming, exercising and relaxing.
I am still optimistic we can get the cafe going, but not right now. He needs a break and we need to get to know each other without the stress of a business on our shoulders. He has also been worrying about how to protect me from the bad elements of the village and now he does not have to worry.
Last night we lay on mats on the porch at the front of his mother's house. It was the first time he had ever done it. Changes are a foot. The house has been as hot as Hades for the last couple of weeks, so we are now lounging outside on our own.... Major change...
My response was:
I have just walked past your two aunties, both bare armed and I am not going to put up with your controlling behaviour anymore.
Chita storms off to have a bath, then returns and apologises, but when I realised the underlying pressure upon him, I can understand why he has been so paranoid. The land on which our cafe is built is Chita's family land. However, some years a go (time is always unclear in Fiji) the land was signed over to another family - the usurpers. Unfortunately the current Mayor of the village ( an usurper) is collaborating with one or some of the village elders to basically graft whatever he can. Money for a water project has disappeared, the village ownership of Mike's Dives has somehow mysteriously been signed over to him, he received payment for lease of a house to an American, and no documentation exists and he has asked again for the full amount, and another American marine biologist has been threatened with payments to the usurping landowner but luckily his paperwork does exist and cannot be touched. This blackmailing, bullying, constantly asking for money, and no accountability is unfortunately the new Fiji. Its the old Fiji that has developed a corrupt culture which has forgotten its 'share and care' mentality and basically rips off both the ignorant and unaware indiginous people as well as the kavalagi.
I have had a week of being the Fijian 'wife' who has to cook for three males: Pele, Walai and Chita every night, and make interesting meals from 2-3 ingredients.I have started the budget so its bottom of the fridge meals for big eaters this week.
Chita's mum Melia has gone to Nabutini to be with Chita's sister who has just had a baby. I had a hire car two weeks a go so I took Melia into the hospital and met Lasaro the new edition to the Tubuna household. He's a creamy caffe latte colour and very alert.
The funeral took over the life of the village. I came home to find the men of the village carrying poles and sheets of tin to construct a room on the village green. From the first night, the clanging sound of the kava being pounded rang in my ears. I cooked dinner on Tuesday night, and had just sat down with Chita to eat, when the door opened and a stream of a dozen or so Fijian men poured in.
ring your food and sit on the floor and eat.
I took one look and escaped to the bedroom, Chita pulling an extension cord behind me so I could watch a dvd. I was relegated to the bedroom. I did not even have time to get my chicken soup. I fell asleep and woke up around 6 am to see Chita whispering
'If you want a coffee, better go and make one, while everyone is still asleep'
I tiptoed around the sea of sleeping males, and sat on the backstep drinking. Had no idea what had gone on, what was going on, and when I asked Chita, he replied
'I will tell you later.'
I got a message from a friendly marine biologist asking me for a lunch of pasta and I flew up the hill, ravenous, and wanting to find out what had gone on. Apparently, as Chita is the youngest son, he can be called by one of the elders to man the kava bowl all night; which he did. One of his uncles had told him that ' a group would be sleeping in the house' and everyone obeys the Fijian hierarchy without question.
Being a European (anyone who is not Fijian)means being overcharged on a daily basis. I have had the frustrating experience of catching vans and buses to my job in Pacific Harbour everyday for a week. I have realised that the only way to not be ripped off, is to basically work out what I am prepared to pay, and go to the bank, and change $40 Fijian dollars into $2 notes so that I am ready for the daily onslaught. If I have no change I get charged $5 instead of $4. I spend $40 a week on transport just to get to work and back and its more than I spent on petrol back in Australia for a week.
Its been a big week of making some serious decisions. I came here all fired up to set up a woodfired bakery and make pizza, pane, biscotti and torte for eager tourists wanting fresh food, and unfortunately our business in its current state of 'no lease' will fall victim to constant handouts, free meals, and donations to whatever. We can't afford it and I don't think I could stand it. Its sad really. Chita's enthusiasm is inspiring but even he has just had enough.
We both can't face opening this business.
Its a turning point for him and I. One I did not expect at all. I thought I was here to set up a business, make enough money to build a house and create a tropical lifestyle for myself. However, that has been put on hold. I am now backing off from my bakery project for at least a year, and with a wait and see attitude.
Its disappointing but I am oh so glad, we talked about it before we opened. We are both unhappy about it but he is exhausted from setting it up and just wants to escape.
I am happy to spend the next few months in Fiji working out our relationship, working part-time at the Pearl, swiming, exercising and relaxing.
I am still optimistic we can get the cafe going, but not right now. He needs a break and we need to get to know each other without the stress of a business on our shoulders. He has also been worrying about how to protect me from the bad elements of the village and now he does not have to worry.
Last night we lay on mats on the porch at the front of his mother's house. It was the first time he had ever done it. Changes are a foot. The house has been as hot as Hades for the last couple of weeks, so we are now lounging outside on our own.... Major change...
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