Tribewanted: Vorovoro

Mali Parents are a patriotic lot. Despite where they settle in life, it is an unwritten norm that kids must be sent back to Mali tikina school for their first formal English lesson and also to learn just about everything else in life and the outside world. Most importantly this trip is also about being earthed in Mali ways and traditions.

I was in a group of four kids who were part of this interesting social experiment. Interestingly, in more ways school curriculum seemed to reflect this dual intention, although I put it down to mere coincidence. All the above made sense, except the part where the teacher used to send the four boys to the mountain to collect firewood, made more special by his insistence on a special wood, found in dry mountainous region of Mali.

Childhood slavery issues aside, such firewood errands used to be a moment of profound significance for us. It provided the perfect opportunity from the summit above the school (before the final descent towards the school Masters house) to look into the direction of Labasa, see Malau Port and occasionally witness the approach and departure of planes to and from Waiqele airport.These were quiet moments in our heads. Also, these were silent moments of connection with our parents, whom we get to see three times in a year during the school term breaks or if we are lucky when there is a soqo or funeral that they must attend on Mali. Most of our dreaming and blue sky sessions were hatched on this very special spot. Before the final leg towards the valley with our piles of firewood, there would be one final moment to collectively analyze our thinking out loud, however far fetched. We would always agree that in order to grow up, in order to be somebody someday, we must be on that plane.

Even at that young age, we understood that to be simply from Ligaulevu, scions of the Vuanimasei people, who amongst the northern districts are considered to be legendary exponents of traditional mekes such as vakamalolo(sit down meke), seasea (stand up ladies meke) and wesi(spear/club war dance) was not enough.

Walking the streets of central London with Ben last night, and discussing about Tribewanted journey so far, it dawned on me that this blonde hair boy from London not long ago also had a dream and followed through with it. Except his is a bit crazy: abandoning the good pubs, array of ale and most importantly family to be amongst the people of Mali on Vorovoro and live like them. Through Tribewanted dream, and the desire to be as one with the people by learning and help reviving traditional practices, art and skills, it is cool to be from Mali and be tribal again.

It is all making sense now. I have just been on a plane for nearly twenty hours chasing that moment where the story and wisdom behind that dream must be shared publicly. It is about a living story of cultural co- existence that has never been done before. Now planes fly more regularly into Labasa and will smile at the fact that most if not all members of the tribe from beyond the horizon will be visiting their school which now has some computers, solar and generated power and heaps of library books. The extra curriculum activities of collecting firewood for the teacher is now banned by Fiji’s Ministry of education but the dreaming sessions has not stopped. I hear school kids in the tikina school now listen and exchange with people from different cultural and professional backgrounds, hear new stories and read under good lights.