Tribewanted: Vorovoro

I’m often giggling to myself here. Life can feel quite surreal and I find it pretty funny. The night of the last episode of Paradise or Bust was a prime example. It was Tuesday morning here in Fiji the night everyone was gathered at Sway Bar in London and I walked back from reading the forums in Tanoa Park– everyone’s excited “I’m in London!”, “I’m at Heathrow!!! See you tonight!” and Raina’s classic forum post of “Everyone but my mum, ignore this message…Mum, I’m safe in London, will be in touch when I can!” – had me all smiley because many of you were together there, and even though I was here, I felt this really nice connectedness and some of the tangy buzz of of London permeated my mood – I felt like I should have a beer in my hand instead of a coffee, only to be in keeping, of course.

I was chatting with Leavi at the tool shed – coffee in hand – when suddenly there was a happy laugh from PuPu Epeli – he had lowered the brilliant chicken catcher Lottie and James had built and trapped himself a prime rooster. He didn’t care much about the rooster, it was just fun that the giant net had worked.

Lottie, in all of her 18 year old, Anne of Green Gables bright red hair total joy of being alive glory, grabbed the famously loud blue rooster by his legs and carted him off to the chicken coop. Such things most of us would never experience anywhere else.

Every day here presents me with at least one moment, if not many more, to feel an all encompassing wide eyed child-like glee of discovery and wonder. Not a day passes that I forget to be grateful I live on Vorovoro.

There is no “average day” here on the island, I could be off at Tanoa Park for a couple of hours answering emails or changing 7 ongoing flights to enable one of our tribe to stay longer or I might be working on the accounts, typing away into excel (for the record, I like creating spreadsheets, it’s kind of like doing a big sudoku, and I probably appreciate the pure order of them in this disordered world). I might be learning meke 6 from a visiting tribe member because everyone else learned it while I was in town, I may even disappear to a private spot for half an hour – 15 minutes per side – of naked sun time, or spread glue on a board to catch a critter who’s giving me a hard time, bandage up someone’s foot, write a blog or add to the forums, clean the toilets or – best of all – spend 20 minutes smelling all my t-shirts in an effort to find the least offensive one to wear for Tui Mali’s unexpected (pre laundry doing) visit.

This is my life. I am grateful. Au sa vakavinavinaka.

I did a quick trip to Sydney a couple of weeks ago and went to catch my flight from Nadi to Labasa only to be told my flight was cancelled. I travel a great deal, I hang about airports a lot. I actually like hanging about airports, but in this instance, I was absolutely gutted I was going to miss our March 1st celebrations completely – the flights they had available wouldn’t get me back until early evening.

Unabashed tears spring to my eyes over a deafeningly pretty sunset, but a cancelled flight? No, such stuff is hardly worth a shrug. However, on March 1st 2008, I had to blink back tears and resist the urge to smash “Fiji time” clocks to pieces. Besides, I have developed a fetish for men in grass skirts and war paint, and who knew when my next chance to objectify grass skirted fellas might be? I had plenty of reasons to be upset!

With a couple of phone calls and several trips back and forth between offices and check-in desks, I had a ticket that would potentially get me home to Vorovoro by 2pm. Without smashing any clocks, Fiji time worked in my favour and I got there by 2:30pm.

I had missed the mass meke, all the emotional ceremonies and the banquet, but I was there on the grog mat with Tui Mali, Ulai, Te, all of our esteemed guests, all the boys singing away and many others – tribe and visitors – and that is all I had wanted. I didn’t mind missing all the pomp and circumstance, all the ceremonies or even the grass skirted lads, I had just wanted to be there, sharing a very special day with very special people.

No one scolded me for missing the morning – what would have been seen as the “important” part of the day in most western minds – all I got were loads of handshakes, hugs and exclamations of “Kalera! You’re here! Bula sia bula sia! You’re home!” – we were all there, together, and that, here in Fiji, is the important part.

I had a special message to deliver as well. Being in Sydney meant I had a decent internet connection, so Kimbo sent a video message for me to share. I waited until the “right” time.

<aside>Having the impact one desires, accomplishing almost everything here in Fiji requires being tuned in enough to know when it is the “right” time to bring things up in conversation. Forging ahead full of western mind, ego driven “need to get things done” mentality often means what one had hoped to accomplish or convey is completely lost and will need to be spoken again at a later time anyway. Speaking without being tuned into “right” timing is, as my mum would say: “opening your mouth to hear your belly rumble”.</aside>

Once most of our guests had left and it was just me, Giles, the boys and Tui Mali sitting around the tanoa (the rest of the tribe was taking a break), I whipped out the laptop and played the video message. It was the right time. I don’t always get “right timing” right, but I did that afternoon, and it was a happy/sad few minutes of western technology meets Fijian tradition. At the end of the video, Kimbo clapped 3 times and said “talo” and, before I could even close the computer, Tui Mali said “High tide, everyone on the Malau bus!”.

March 1st 2008 was a perfect day, an incredible celebration, and everyone who helped celebrate – near and far – had their hand in making it so. What makes a day perfect is different for every individual, but no matter the ingredients that created it, everyone was pleased and so happy to be a part of the day.

Life on Vorovoro can be challenging, but I’m usually full of joy when I fall asleep – pooped and often a bit groggy -but happier than our pigs in their biogas.