I Have Been a Snob

I admit it. I have been a beer snob, a food snob, a wine snob, a music snob, a comedy snob…you get the idea. Here is the thing. In a previous version of Brian, there was good music/humor/etc and bad music/humor/etc. In Fiji, innovation breaks new boundaries for non-existence. Something is good if it adheres to what came before it. Listening to contemporary Fijian music sounds almost exactly like Fijian music from 1970. Jokes get told and retold and told again and every time get uproarious laughter. Here is the problem—the music and the jokes aren’t particularly good (copy that for the beer and food). Upon arrival, I did a lot of not laughing and plugging my ears on the bus.

But over time, something has been happening to me. I find myself laughing at the joke I have heard countless times. Worse, I find myself telling the joke. I now have my favorite set of Fijian songs and have learned to play and sing them myself. I love the food here and even the beer…nope the beer is terrible. In looking back I realized a few things about this change. The first is that in the US, we have a bunch of musical choices and for some reason, we have decided to tie our identity to a particular style. If you live in rural parts, you listen to country. If you are black and live in urban America you listen to rap. If you live in Portland, you listen to whoever no one else has ever heard of. But there is no middle ground. I listen to rock not country or I listen to jazz not rap. Well, the good news is that in Fiji, there is just Music. There are not styles. Everyone listens to Music and everyone loves music. On a bus, you can hear Christian rock, pop, reggae, and rap all in a row and everyone sings along, young and old.

It was this very music that I scorned. Occasionally, I would find myself in a bar where this steady stream of “bad” music would be played, and the previous version of myself would sit and scorn the music poking jabs at the song’s lyrics and contrived melody. Meanwhile, people are dancing and having a great time. The same is with the retread, basic humor. The old me snickers at the people not the joke, because how can they think that this is funny. Well, here is my lesson for the day. When I refuse to enjoy particular music that is on or to laugh with others at a stupid joke, who wins? Me? Who is having a better time, the one dancing or the one mumbling something about how much they hate rap? What have I proven by not enjoying myself while others are? Am I better than they are?

I don’t want to be a music/food/humor snob anymore. (I’m keeping wine and beer; good wine is good wine and bad is definitely bad). I want to laugh and dance, preferably with others. The music and the joke are just the medium for us doing the things that give us life anyway: laughing and dancing, preferably at the same time.

Things around here are going well. We just had a visit from the Regional Director of Peace Corps. He is sort of a big deal. There are only 3 PC regions in the world and he runs the one that includes the Pacific and Latin America. He came to Fiji and wanted to visit one village. So, they sent him to our village, and the village did it up right. Of course, their excitement over his arrival came about a little dishonestly. You see, when I told the village who was coming, I explained that he was just under the Director of Peace Corps and that the Director answers directly to the President. That is all true, but you can see the natural thought flow if you do that in reverse. It goes Obama, PC Director, Regional Director. The second in line to Obama is coming to our village!

I tried to explain that there are many government agencies, not to mention Congress, but it didn’t matter. The word was out. So, as far as they knew, one of the most powerful men in the world was coming tomorrow. The whole village turned out, we sang and danced when he arrived, exchanged whales teeth, exchanged kava, had the official kava ceremonies, etc, etc. It went on and on but culminated in a big party with a huge lunch and lots of singing and dancing. The latter is pretty big because dancing is not allowed in our village. The ban was lifted for that day alone. He was there for four hours and had a great time, but really his coming revolutionized the village and the pride they took in that visit is hard to explain. There is talk of making the anniversary of his visit a yearly holiday for the village to celebrate the occasion. And I was there the day that the 2^nd in line to the US Presidency visited Fiji.

Here is Mala, a friend of mine, who this day is acting as an bati, or bodyguard/warrior to make sure no one tries to eat the Regional Director.

I am flaunting my newly-acquired mad ukulele skills upon the arrival.

This is the official welcome for big-timeys like the 2nd in line to the US President.  It is called a vakasobu, which means kneeling before and the chief (kneeling) is offering the whale’s tooth.  Poor whale.

Here are the cannibal-preventers preparing the yaqona (kava).

The women (including Sally) doing a meke, traditional dance.  She was pretty good.  I was playing the ukulele and was pretty good myself.

This is us with the Regional Director, Carlos Torres.  By the way, I did the math.  Since it goes Obama, PC Director, Carlos in the line of succession, I myself am 6th in line to be President.  A long shot to be sure, but if Ford could become President, why not me?