Tribewanted: Vorovoro

We arrived on the island on a Thursday and after the initial of who’s who, what’s what and all the rest of it we became aware of an undercurrent of excitement in the air. Something was up. Mother’s Day was looming. We paid precious little attention to this at first. After all everyone knows Mother’s Day is just a cooked up festival to generate business for the card making conglomerates, it’s only marginally more respectful than Father’s Day which in turn takes slight precedence over Australians having a national holiday on the Queen’s birthday. To me, a fairly standard Brit, Mother’s Day mattered very little. If you managed to remember to call, send a card or give your mum a hug then you could rest easy.

My opinion has been radically changed. I learnt on Vorovoro that Mother’s Day is an ancient festival celebrated in many cultures. It celebrates the goddess of fertility, the giving of life and most importantly honours the essential bond between mother and child. In Fiji they have the perfect answer as to how best to celebrate this beautiful day…

When we first heard the whispered rumour that on this special Sunday the men would be cooking for the women I’m ashamed to say visions of toast and sandwiches did haunt the minds of all us girls. I will never doubt again.

At four in the morning on Mothering Sunday some eerily beautiful singing woke up the village, Team Fiji transformed into the world’s nicest alarm clock. The cooking had started. An hour later some all too earthly, frantic squealing jolted us awake as the unfortunate, soon to be devoured pig had its throat cut. At breakfast no-one was quite sure whether to talk about the singing or the squealing and all confessed to some very strange dreams!

Under PouPou’s guidance an oven had been created out of a hole dug out of the earth which grew steadily hotter and hotter until it was ready to receive the very much deceased pig carefully wrapped in banana leaves. The kitchen was a hub of activity with things being sliced and diced all over the place and not a woman in sight! In reaction to this impressive display of dedication all of us ‘mothers’ made an effort to beautify. Making use of Chief Linda’s extensive collection of sulu jambas we underwent a transformation leaving behind our normal grubby selves to emerge brightly garbed and looking good in traditional Fijian fashion. Gracefully arranged on the grog mats under the trees we waited to see what would happen next. We didn’t have to wait long before the sound of singing reached us and we looked up to see Mr and Mrs Tui Mali leading a procession from the village. After much admiration at the colourful spectacle of all the ‘mothers’ the ceremony began. The men presented flowers and grog. They spoke of how Mother’s Day honours all mothers both present and future. Being only nineteen and planning on being childless for at least a few more years being addressed as a future mother and thanked in advance for the care and love that position entails awakened maternal instincts I didn’t realize I had. Fair to say that the whole day made me rather broody though more in the sense of looking forward to a distant future filled with children than any immediate present!

Us ‘mothers’ were then led to a table specially decorated with leaves and garlands of flowers. It was also groaning under the weight of the seemingly hundreds of plates of food- four different fish dishes, chicken, pork, sauces, fruit, salad…We were urged to eat, eat, eat. So we did! We fell on the feast in a not particularly ladylike fashion. When it was clear we had fully gorged ourselves the men left their grog and came to claim their share.

The rest of the day was spent alternating between the hammocks and the grog mats and was rounded off by the most spectacular sunset we had yet seen (though on reflection I say that at every sunset!). As the sky exploded with gold we were given one last surprise in the form of banana cake topped with chocolate and hundreds of thousands. Somehow we all discovered we still had a corner of space left in the recesses of our stomachs and in the twinkling of an eye the cake vanished.

So much effort so generously given based on such a strong emotion, the Fijian approach to Mother’s Day deserves to be exported to all over the world!