Hot...so...hot...

It is 94°F…in my kitchen. It has been 94°F in my kitchen for long enough to where Sally decided that the thermometer always said that. So, we took the thermometer (a meat thermometer that the Coffmans brought us!) out of the kitchen into the living area. We realized the thermometer appears to be working since the temperature immediately dropped to 85°F. That seems reasonable. This morning, when I looked at it, the temperature was all the way down to 82°F which is almost down to clothes-wearing temperature. The humidity helps because it is sort of like swimming everywhere.

We appear to be in a drought. The thing is that when there is an El Niño in your part of the world, that rain water is coming from somewhere. That somewhere is my garden and I want my rain back. From what I hear, you all would be more than willing to give it back but since no one knows who is in charge of these things, we appear to be at a loss for blame. (The obvious would be of course to blame God, but from what I can tell, people only like to assign the good parts of life to God. The bad parts are still as-yet unexplained to me. Perhaps God takes weekends and 2 weeks per year off. That would explain the spike in drunk driving homicides on Saturday nights and the periodic natural disaster.) But I digress. FROM WHAT?!? This whole blog is a digression, so I will continue.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from a neighboring village that there is a problem with a sea creature attacking the women as they fish. So my counterpart and I headed down there to dig up the dirt on this sea creature. It turned out to be a small sea jelly that was amassing in the thousands and stinging the women as they fished. The problem is that they didn’t feel anything while they were in the water so they just carried on. When they got out of the water, the trouble started. It was a head-to-toe itch, pain, and fever for a few days. Bummer, right? Not much to be done but stay out of the water when they are around, I say.

But upon further review, that wasn’t the extent of the story. You see, these sea jelly attacks were happening only in the tabu (marine protected area), an area closed to fishing, that had been opened up temporarily over the holidays. It also turned out that the tabu area was not opened up correctly. When you open a tabu, you are supposed to first clear it with the Komiti ni Qoliqoli (Fishing Committee) then have a sevusevu ceremony where you offer up some kava, then pray over the whole thing. That didn’t happen. It was just opened up, so the blame for the sea jelly attack fell squarely on the shoulders of those who opened the tabu area. Evidently, nature gets pissed when you don’t do things the right way. I started to open my mouth to bring some logic to the matter, but I didn’t. Really, whatever keeps that tabu area closed is fine with me, and if it is fear of packs of sea jellies that stalk the seas looking for poorly executed protocol to strike, fine by me.

Then I thought about this a little more. What the hell do I know? My counterpart explained it quite well at the meeting. The Fijian word for the environment is yaubula, but the word environment doesn’t quite do it justice. The word bula means just about anything you want it to mean in Fijian but really it means “life” or living. Yau, in this context, means “wealth” or “riches.” Yaubula is all of the stuff that is alive: forests, people, and seas jellies. And more importantly, God is in charge of all of this. You mess with one and you mess with them all. If you don’t do things the way that they are supposed to be done, marauding sea jellies may be the least of your problems. We often don’t have any idea what the consequences of not doing things the right way are, thinking that we do. Little white lies we don’t think will amount to much end up amounting to a lot. We used to think that damming rivers was a great idea. If the sentence starts with, “Nobody gets hurt if I…” chances are someone is getting hurt, or will eventually. Do I really think that keeping sea jellies out of the bay teeters on the wording of a ceremony? No, but I do think that things are a lot more connected than our western brains and way of life allow for.

It is now February, which puts us at the 8 month mark, 6 months at site. The school year just started and there has been a pretty big turnover of teachers. That means that we have a bunch of new neighbors, and after having no neighbors for 2 months, the place feels weirdly crowded. That being said, it does mean the return of 4 hours of electricity every day! After having 0-2 hours for the last two months, 4 hours feels like an absurdity of riches. Who needs 4 hours? We can’t even use that much? I keep looking for things to charge, but they are all charged! We even watched a 3-hour movie last night (The Great Escape, a pretty good classic). Next week, Sally and I head to Suva for 2 weeks for a training, but we are really going to the training because it is a chance to get off the island for a little bit. The training is only 3 days, but the way that the boat schedule works, we have to be gone for two weeks. I am going to eat cheese. We were sitting on our porch one evening and I turned to Sally and asked, “Do you remember appetizers? Those are awesome.” I think that I will have some of those too.

Then my parents come. We are really excited about this because they will get a chance to see Koro and then we are heading off to veg out in the island paradise of the Yasawas for a week. I mean, we live in an island paradise, but when you live there it doesn’t feel so much like paradise. You know too much about it. In order for it to be paradise, you need to go to another island and that is what we are doing.

Here we are at this crazy waterfall that you have to swim up to in Taveuni. There's a cool waterslide too!

Then there was this waterfall, straight out of some cheesy set. Only, it's real.
















Just give me a reason to jump off a waterfall.





























Home ain't so bad either. This is from the roof the day we got back.

Party Like Time is Relative

Well, here it is, January 11th and New Years celebrations appear to be here to stay. Evidently, New Years Eve lasts 2 weeks. It all starts with Church, as most things do here, for three hours leading up to the actual New Year. Oh, by the way, due to an experiment with Daylight Savings Time this year, we celebrated the New Year before it was even theoretically possible. You see, Fiji is 12 hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time which is the maximum. There is no 13 hours ahead because that would put you over the International Date Line and into yesterday (take that Tonga!!). Fiji is the first country to see each new day and hence each New Year. However, this year Fiji is giving Daylight Savings a try, putting us 13 hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time. Impossible you say! Agreed. We are the same time as Tonga now but it is tomorrow from Tonga. I believe that makes the nation of Fiji the first documented case of time travel into the future and I am proud to say that I was/am/will be here.

Anyway, back to our theoretically impossibly early New Year, once the New Year comes in and church is over, it is time for the water to start. They say that there is some connection between the cleansing powers of water and bringing in the New Year right, but what that ultimately looks like is people throwing each other in the river and if you happen to have some sort of vessel, bringing the river to each other by surprise. It is really fun and lasts for two weeks. That means at any time, someone can grab you and haul you into the river or just surprise attack you with a bucket of water, be you on your way to church, in a meeting, whatever. The good news is that it is really hot out so this is not a bad thing.

To accompany the two weeks of water fights, there is incessant drumming. Each village in Fiji has what is called a lali which is a drum made from a hollowed out trunk that, when played with sticks, is very loud and carries for miles. Historically, it was used to communicate between villages, call villagers in the case of an attack, or call people to work or meetings. Now, it is still used as the village timepiece, letting you know when meetings and church are starting. Well, during the 2 weeks of mayhem, anyone is allowed to play the lali day or night. That usually involves kids beating on it from sunup until, well, sunup. Nonstop. Then there are the cannons. These are hollowed out lengths of bamboo that when are heated up (with fire) and then aerated a certain way with vaporized kerosene, then lit on fire make an unholy boom that really carries. Right now there appear to be dueling cannons on either side of the village going. The point of this seems to be to point this at someone and scare the living bejesus out of them. It really is fun, especially because you are already living with the fear of being thrown in the river at any time while being shot at. The rest of the time you just party.

Now, let’s talk about teeth. In America, you can tell a person’s socioeconomic strata purely by their teeth. Anyone with any expectations of lower middle class through high class has all of their teeth. If one happens to have lost a tooth along the way, from a chainsaw accident perhaps, one finds a way to pay for something that fools people into believing that one has all of their teeth. Missing one tooth puts you somewhere in the realm of lower middle class but might bring with a sort of cache representing a “countercultural” past wherein one got into a barfight or two but now is a contributing member of society…just with a hard core past. It is sort of a badge of honor, but must be accompanied by faded tattoos of lurid scenes. Missing more than one tooth puts one squarely in the lower classes because one either does not care what people think or does not have the means to care what people think. Either case is often the result of addiction.

In Fiji, all bets are off regarding teeth. There are people with full sets of healthy teeth and others who look like they won a rock chewing contest. Neither scenario is correlated with social station. There are people who run the country who don’t have any teeth to speak of. It is a real problem for me, conditioned as I am to judge based on dental metrics. If I sit down in a meeting and the person sitting opposite of me has no teeth, I am inclined to kindly ask them to leave as I have a very important meeting with someone or other. That person often is that someone or other. The island head man, missing all kinds of teeth; our village chief, barely a tooth to be found; one of my good friends, missing half of his top teeth. When one can’t judge a man by his teeth, it becomes very difficult to effectively look down on people with any accuracy.

I am Joining the Fijian Police

I am joining the Fijian Police. Not only are they in good with the latest coup supported dictator, but they have the best marching band that I have seen since Stanford. Here is how it all started. When Sally was in Suva, leaving me abandoned, I was forced to find innovative ways of entertaining myself. So, I went to the opening of the new Koro Island Police Post. This was pretty big news as it is the first police station on the island, and the post has two, count them TWO jail cells (which are currently being used for storage). All of the chiefs from each village came as did some big wigs from the Provincial capital. When it was reported that the Police Band would be coming as well, people flocked from all over island. I decided that it was worth checking out since I live down the street. I was also pretty sure that I would get fed while there. I was right.

As I was walking up, I could hear some music which, as I got closer turned out to be a recording of “I Did It My Way.” Or was it? No wait, it was live, big band, conductor, singer and all. Sinatra was immediately followed by an Elvis Presley medley and then to make sure the experience was absolutely surreal, White Christmas. What’s more, it was good—really good. They had French horns for crying out loud. Where did they even find those, much less learn to play them? (That being said, the guy playing the instrument I now call “clapping hands” is a little circumspect. Something tells me his brother has some hiring authority in the force.) I have been of the mind that Fijians do a lot of things well enough but I hadn’t seen much evidence of proficiency much less virtuosity. These people were pros, right down to the uniforms. Men often wear skirts here, only we call them sulu. So, it was no big deal that the men were wearing skirts in the outfit, the cool part is that the bottom of their sulu are cut in a jagged shape like a jester’s would be. All of the police wear these, even when on patrol; it is just another reason why I am joining the police.

Then there was the marching. This is where it really got off the hook. They could march. Oh boy, could they march. It was witty, charming, sexy, you name it. They brought out the traditional Fijian dress for a couple of numbers and followed it by having the trombone players thrusting around. It was great. The best part of any performance however is always the person who I will call the “joiner.” This person is invariably an old, fat woman. Here is how it goes. Someone will be performing something that they have spent a significant portion of their life perfecting before this moment. As they are showing off their dancing, singing, etc ability, the “joiner” will take it upon herself to take the stage along with the accomplished performer and proceed to shake her (large) hips more or less to the music but almost certainly in a lewd and hysterical manner, thereby ruining the performance at hand. For the marching band, the “joiner” decided that she was also the drum major when she found a stick on the ground. As the whole point is to make an ass of herself and spoil the show, she did a very nice job. That is only outdone by the male version of this game where instead of old, fat woman, you have young, well-sculpted man. We will call him “retard” because that is the dance that he does. Now, lest you get up in arms about my use of the term “retard,” I am merely reporting the facts. That is what they call the dance. He gets up, upstages the performers and proceeds to impersonate someone dancing with mental and/or physical disabilities. (If you have not read my entry on Fijians and laughter, I recommend doing so now.) I have seen this at just about every performance that is not guarded by security. Then the security guard has to do it.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

I guess the rainy season started because it has been raining nonstop for 4 days. Seriously, it hasn’t stopped once as far as I can tell. It wasn’t raining on the way to Church on Sunday. It started during and hasn’t stopped since. The worst part is that tomatoes and bell peppers die when the soil gets too wet, and that will be happening when the wet season really kicks in. That isn’t supposed to be for another month though and yesterday we just ate our first home grown bell pepper and tomato from the garden. It turns out that it takes 3 months for tomatoes and bell peppers to mature. Well, we got one anyway. I can’t wait for next year! Back to the rain, this place sure does get muddy. There isn’t anything paved anywhere so all of the roads and footpaths have become a sloppy mess. It is supposed to stay that way from Dec-March. Sounds like Portland, no? Luckily for us, we just had some of our roof replaced where it leaked quite badly.

If you read my last blog, you will remember that we were in the process of stealing a kitten from a 3 year-old. Well, I am happy to report: Mission Accomplished. I am pretty sure that makes us the worst people in the world. Who steals a kitten from a small child? Well, we do. This kitten is going; historically, naming a cat has resulted in an untimely death. To be clear, he is my favorite cat so far because by and large, he does his business outside, and yesterday successfully killed and ate a mouse. I will gladly feed a mouse killer, outside pooper.

The first two weeks of every month yaqona (kava, grog) is not allowed to be drunk in any village anywhere in the Lomaiviti Province. This is a big deal. Yaqona is an integral part of the culture and left to their own devices, Fijians will drink grog every night. The ban on grog is in place so that people will spend more time with their families and clear their heads a little. But, there are a few loopholes to this ban and after some study, I have come to understand the rules surrounding this ban. In the Lomaiviti Province, in the first 2 weeks of every month, the drinking of yaqona is strictly forbidden in all circumstances and without exception, except:

• When you are outside of the village compound, someone is visiting from out of town, there is a fundraiser, someone is born, someone dies, there is a formal function, it is the month of December or
• You really want to.

We just had our first visitors and it was amazing. The Coffmans had plans to visit laid before we even left for Fiji and last month made good on those plans. It was really great to have them here, share a bit of our life, hear about their lives, and travel around a little. Mostly it was great to have them here because they brought us booze. Turns out that you can bring 2.25L per person! Please keep this in mind for your visits. Anyway, they were here for a good chunk of December and managed to time their arrival just right to get stuck on Koro Island for our first cyclone (what you call a hurricane in Fiji). That didn’t exactly play into their hands for their dream vacation, but it meant that we had lots of entertainment (remember, they brought booze), so we were thrilled to have them here for that. We split time on Koro with them between our house in the village and the resort on the other side for some diving. Then we headed up to Taveuni for a couple of days before they flew out. That place is amazing: crazy diving, waterfalls, hiking, AND S
STORES!!


Here is Sally and Brian C diving together. They are dive buddies. My dive buddy is my camera!

We played dress up and took Brian and Heather to village. Brian is wearing a skirt. You don't have to wear them, but we didn't tell Brian that. He seemed a little too eager to give it a try and now Sally is missing some clothes. (Seriously, we want the black skirt back.)

We also introduced Brian and Heather to the finer points of Fijian life, namely husking and scraping coconuts. They got pretty good at it and more importantly, we ate well.



One night we got drunk. Heather is pouting because she was too pregnant to get her drink on. Brian is also telling a story which may be another reason she is pouting.

A real puffer fish! And all puffed up!

We took them to church which is a strange experience even if you know what is going on. You can't see it but Brian is wearing a skirt again. He just wouldn't take the thing off.

Mmmmm, yaqona. Brian, in his skirt, looks justifiably fearful.

Look at this cute little guy. Can you believe this is real?





Holidays without family suck. Let’s be clear about that. The Coffmans left on the 20th and we headed back to our house a couple of days before Christmas. Luckily for us, Christmas is a pretty low key affair here. Basically you just build these outdoor bamboo huts and hang out in them for a couple of weeks, eating as much as you can and drinking yaqona when you are not eating. Lot’s of folks came from out of town to be with their families here so there were lots of new faces, but there are no isolated family units and no exchanging of gifts. So, we didn’t feel lonely or isolated at all. Sally and I just pretended that it wasn’t Christmas. We are working under the assumption that Christmas has been canceled until 2011. If you would all comply with this, we would be grateful.

Now it is January and there is no work. Everyone is still traveling for the holidays and people who are here are committing themselves to drinking yaqona full-time. It is also pretty dang hot so hunkering down in the afternoon is pretty much de rigeur. That being said, I think that we are both ready for school to start back up so people remember that we are going about the business of making Koro Island a better place to live. Until then, we will be working on making naps better.