Tribewanted: Vorovoro

Reaching out to all the readers… north, east, south and west. Big up your chests. You’re tuning into Tribewanted Gapper FM, broadcasted in words across the world wide web. Yes yes.

After three previous months on the island, one of those as chief, I was offered the ‘gapper’ position. Quality, part of the Tribewanted team on Vovrovoro, no place I’ld rather be. But before I could commence there was a wedding to attend back home. A lovely time spent catching up with family and friends after 18 months of traveling. Contrary to that feeling, the UK media seemed to be full of stabbings and financial gloom. Laters.

Upon leaving London the weather was sunny. When the plane touched down in Nadi it was pissy. Mother Nature’s lost the plot and my body clock was up-the-spout. The complete journey to Vorovoro took 36hrs and four different planes. Luckily I don’t share the same phobia as B.A. Barakus, or suffer from arachnophobia which is handy if you’re coming to Vorovoro. However, I may be grogophobic! But why?

Well, my arrival coincided with a Tui Mali visit and a sevusevu ceremony in full swing. A sevusevu ceremony involves the new arrivals offering gifts to the big chief and it turns into one big knees up. Team Fiji gave me a rapturous welcome and got me smashed on their local brew called ‘grog’. Royally lamb-chopped (Vorovoro slang for drunk). For those who don’t know, grog is diuretic and my much needed sleep was interrupted (three blooming times) by a pleading bladder.

The following morning, I decided to rise with the sun and wriggled my nose, my face felt weird. My eyes felt strange too. Combine that with woozyness and jet-lag… I was feeling pretty odd ‘n’ rough. Not good. Perhaps the hammocks could fix that? It was there that I bumped into Liavi also known as Crimestopper (no biting, no fighting). The look on his face told me that my boat race was problematic. It felt hot to touch. He spotted a plant and crushed the leaves in his hands. The juice was rubbed all over my hot face. Was this an allergic reaction to the grog? Or had the ‘bad wind’ struck again (see earlier blog)!?

The next dozen people that encountered me can be split into three distinct groups:

1) Wrinkled forehead. Concern.
2) Widened eyes. Shock.
3) Expressionless. Polite.

It was time to take a trip to the compost toilets where there be a sink and cracked mirror to check out my refection. “F**k me!” It looked like someone’s shoved a pump up my nose, inflated my face and shoved it in an oven. It ain’t pretty and it ain’t my brother. What to do? Oh mercy, mercy me. Fortunately, a fellow tribee had similar symptoms on her travels in Asia and kindly offered me her left over pills. Quick, down the hatch. I am happy to report that these little beauties worked a treat cos 36hrs later (and large amounts of plant juice ‘n’ healing hands) I was back to normal. Thank the Lord, nice one Khrishna, easy the Buddha. The cause of the fat face remains unknown and I’m scared to drink grog again.

Despite this unfortunate start, I remain upbeat ‘n’ optimistic. The Tribewanted on-island team have been running at low capacity since the exodus of the old gaurd at the beginning of the year. But now all the positions have been filled and we are at full power. Energy levels are high. Ideas are flowing. The vibes are exciting. Everyone is hyped up about the future so stay tuned for more.

Until next time… avoid Abba and enjoy your creature comforts. If Abba is your creature comfort – go get help. Immediately.