Tribewanted: Vorovoro

The last couple of weeks have seen us bounce between high seas and stormy weather (the wind was so strong I almost toppled over when I went for a sneaky middle of the night beach wee) and glorious sunshine. We also had few nights of full moon so brilliant we had outdoor kava on the beach and it didn’t matter half of us had forgotten our head lamps.

It is the rainy season, so the weather is really unpredictable. Planned building projects and excursions sometimes have to be put on hold when the skies open to shower us with tropical, super-strength, rain. It doesn’t last forever though, and the mornings we wake up with sun beaming down from a cloudless sky, everyone hauls the mats out to air, washes and hangs laundry and gets on with anything they left a day or two before.

Last week we settled on the warm grass to weave palm frond roofing, less than an hour later we were laughing and scurrying into the Grand Bure, palm fronds in tow, to escape a downpour. We also started clearing and plotting the pig pen expansion for our ever expanding pregnant pig’s expected progeny, but we took cues from our snorting friends to take shelter when they did. As for the biogas, the livestock manure we’ve requested from neighbouring villages has been washed away into the mud before it could be collected. Truly, who’d ask anyone to go out into the driving rain to bag up pig poo?

Here in Fiji, the outdoor events of any day – construction, gardening, fishing, snorkeling, hikes, reef trips, firewood collection, watching for shooting stars etc – all happen within the rhythms of the tides and the weather. We could plan until we turned purple, but it would only make us purple, it wouldn’t change nature.

The new chicken coop took longer to complete than it might have, but stormy seas and loads of lumber in a small boat don’t mix well, so it was delayed by nearly a week. It is now finished and quickly being populated by what used to be “wild” chickens. Chief Sharon Nuanes is one handy chicken catcher and I do believe she’s been given a medal of sorts (in form of a lovely Fijian floor mat) for capturing the rooster who has the poorest idea of when daybreak is. He’s always a few hours early, like clock-work really – like that nasty clock that is never right, but you can’t get rid of because it was a gift from your auntie. Ahhh, but now our timeless rooster is far away from where we all sleep and can crow his head off if he likes. It’ll be coming off regardless at some point – probably sooner rather than later.

Thursday was a perfect day for a fish picnic and some exploring on a nearby island, one of the islands they used in last year’s Survivor Fiji TV show. It’s about a half hour away from Vorovoro by boat and has an incredible beach and sand bar, especially at low tide.

I arrived on the second boat, and as I walked across the milky white sand, I glanced ahead and saw those already on the island working together to construct a shade tent actually looked, from afar, like contestants who’d just been plonked there. Thankfully, we Vorovoroians are far friendlier, more creative, open, innovative and waaaaay more entertaining than any TV show contestants I’ve ever seen.

We had an amazing day of cave dwelling, spear fishing, snake spotting, tramping about, touch rugby and fresh off the fire fish eating. I want to go again soon so I can explore more. Does anyone know where I can get a Dora the Explorer shirt? I’d really like one, with sleeves though, so I can show it off when we’re sitting around the grog bowl.

We’ve finished, or, more accurately, Legend and TV star, PuPu Epeli has finished the new storm shutters for Tui Mali’s home on Vorovoro. It’s our safe haven, our cement cave, if a tropical storm should hit. We decided during hurricane Damon – as the boys struggled to nail ply board over the windows – that proper storm shutters were needed. We also talked with Tui Mali and his family about cement anchors embedded in the ground around the house to create to more solid means to secure the tin roof in a storm and they are also complete. Yeah! We’re ready for hurricane Herman* now! Honestly though, I hope we needn’t ever worry, but it feels good to have these extra precautions in place.

The last two days have had us experiencing the edges – big wind, big sea, big rain – of tropical cyclone Gene* that had the tribe meke-ing, grogging and tending the piglets in the Great Bure on Vorovoro and me holed up in a room in Labasa without power. All the comforts of a hotel room and, um, no comforts of a hotel room except a big bed and a laptop with 3 hours of battery life and a gazillion episodes of “Heroes” Adam kindly burned before he left.

(Note to self: do not watch scary shows about supernatural stuff alone in the dark in a storm that has the windows and doors rattling like someone is trying to get in.)

Everyone on the island worked together to batten down the hatches and all, including the new piggies, are well and good, all structures are fine and the storm was a fabulous reason to cosy into the bure, drink grog and play music all evening.

I’m looking forward to getting back, seeing everyone and meeting our pigs in a couple of days, but I’m really looking forward to the boat ride home to Vorovoro.

One of my favourite things about living on an island, and I’ve lived on a few small islands – in Australia, Canada and now Fiji – are boat rides. No matter the type of boat, I love the feel of it moving across the water, the bump and spray of salt or rain, the fish leaping and, most of all, the view.

Landscapes seen from the unfixed vantage point of a boat in the ocean feel more like landscapes than those seen from, well.. land.

Two days ago I was in the boat with Captain Johnny, who was ferrying me to Malau so I could get to town to rest my leg (on the mend), and we both smiled the whole way across. Not at anything in particular, I think we were both in our own bubble worlds soaking up the scenery.

When we arrived at Malau, I asked Johnny if he ever forgets to see how beautiful his home is. His cheeks crinkled into their huge smile creases and he shook his head slowly. “Sometimes yes, but mostly no. I usually see it.”

“Me too.”

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*There is a list each year of tropical storm names, it’s alphabetical. We had Damon in December, I’m not sure what E was, probably Esther or something. Funa was two weeks ago and now we’re in the tail end of Gene. I reckon Herman fits in well with the other names. I bet meteorologists everywhere fight for the job of picking names for the upcoming year’s storms…