Puppies and Sunsets

Our sense of loss over the departure of kitty has been somewhat lessened thanks to the neighbor Semoko’s puppy. The two of them paid us a visit a few days ago and now the puppy has taken it upon herself to visit us on her own a couple of times since then. We’re not sure what breed she is. Actually she pretty much looks like all the other dogs on the island – call her a generic Fijian mutt. Semoko told us the dog’s name but we either couldn’t pronounce it or couldn’t remember it but Deborah thought it sounded a bit like “Bono” so that is what we’re calling her for now. I’ve included a couple of photos of her below, along with some sunset pictures taken during our evening walks along the road into town. We’re doing those more often, sometimes all the way down into town, sometimes not quite as far. It’s a steep climb but it’s more manageable late in the day when the sun isn’t beating down on us. Deborah always takes her trademark walking sticks and I’m sure the neighbors are getting used to the sight of the strange white people walking by.

[Photo (and sock toy) by Deborah]

Fiji Critter Profile - Earwigs

It’s funny how certain insects – ladybugs, for instance – seem at least benign if not downright cute, while other insects evoke instant revulsion and an attack of the heebie jeebies. Earwigs definitely fall into the latter category. That’s partly due to the name, which conjures up nightmarish visions of six-legged penetration of one’s ear canal. But it’s also due to the earwig’s appearance with its devilishly forked pincer tail. The Fijian variety of earwig is even higher on the creepy scale because it’s black, it’s fast, it will fly right at you, and sometimes when it scampers along it raises its tail and bends it back over like a scorpion.

As far as I know they’ve never bitten us, and are really just interested in fruit. In fact, they are also known here by the more affable name “banana bug,” and we do indeed see them in large numbers on the banana trees. But if one lands on Deborah it immediately provokes what we call her Saint Vitus’ Dance, accompanied by sufficient unintelligible screeching and wailing to convince any bystanders that she is experiencing either spontaneous combustion or an epileptic seizure. Fortunately there are seldom any bystanders apart from myself as she often pulls off her dress in an attempt to expose the offending earwig.

Earwig in pseudo-scorpion mode

Return of the Coconut

The first day Deborah gave Manassa a ride to his house he sent her home with five coconuts from his extensive palm-filled property. These were green coconuts straight off the tree, as opposed to the riper one I stumbled across earlier in the blog. Manassa thoughtfully chopped the husk away at one end to allow easy access to the shell for draining out the coconut water, which Deborah thought was sweeter than in the previous coconut. The green coconuts also gave us the opportunity to try the so-called spoon meat, the soft, jello-like lining inside the shell before it ripens into the more familiar hard white coconut meat. The texture is a bit odd but the flavor is good. Deborah blended it with the coconut water to make a sort of coconut milk which she used in a delectable peanut sauce.

The five coconuts we were given are more than we can use while they are still fresh. I suppose if I had been paying closer attention during all those reruns of Gilligan’s Island I could use the extra coconut shells to make radio receivers, headphones, or at least a handsome brazier for Deborah.

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The green coconut bares its spoon meat

Kitty's New Home

Deborah got it into her head that it was time to find kitty a new home. We had been making steady progress in socializing her. She allowed us to pet her when she wasn’t being fed, and sometimes seemed to even enjoy it. Also, Deborah was able to pick her up a few times without becoming a human scratching post. Kitty was definitely becoming more interested in hanging out with us, especially after discovering the comfortable confines of the bean bag chairs, and she couldn’t get enough of playing string. If we lived here, she would be our cat. But in three and a half months we’ll be gone and it’s easier to find a home for a younger cat than an older one. So it was time.

Deborah doubled her efforts of asking everyone she met whether they wanted a cat and hit pay dirt yesterday. She drove past a couple of kids who said they might be interested. The kids pointed toward their house up the hill and Deborah promised to stop by on her way back from town. When she did come back she couldn’t locate the kids’ house and asked a man walking by if he knew them. He didn’t, being just a visitor to the neighborhood, but it turns out he and his wife were also looking to get a cat, particularly an orange one. Bingo. Deborah brought the gentleman, a retired military officer named Manassa, back to our house to see kitty. After talking with him it was clear he could provide a good home for our furry step child.

Today after breakfast we bundled up kitty in the laundry hamper and drove her out to Manassa’s place, a beautiful 79 acre spread with neat rows of coconut trees. Manassa lives there with his wife and two teenage grandchildren – all extremely nice people. Kitty had a less than civil initial encounter with their friendly dog and then hid behind a large wooden chest for the remainder of our time there, so we didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. I’m sure it will take a few days to get used to her new surroundings and new people, but they are genuinely excited about having her and the property would make a fine playground for any cat. We left them with a big bag of cat food and her favorite play string. I’m confident we’ve done what’s best for her.

So now our house is strangely quiet and sad. It’s ridiculous how attached you can get to a member of an alien species in just a three week period. Good thing we didn’t wait until the end of our time here before letting her go – it would have been even harder. But I’m sure we will see her again as Manassa has invited us to come visit anytime. We will definitely take him up on that offer.

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Kitty's new home

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Manassa's "driveway"

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Manassa with Manassa Jr. and Carolyn

(photo by Deborah)

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The grandkids (photo by Deborah)

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Manassa sent us home with flowers from his yard

Kitty luxuriates in the bean bag chair before relocating to her new home

Paying Bills

We just received our internet bill in our post office box today. It says payment was due eight days ago. Welcome to Fiji. Never mind; they didn’t cut off service or anything. So we paid the bill at the Post Office – most bills are paid in cash at either the Post Office or grocery store – and we are good to go for another month of painfully slow dial-up service. The cost is only about US$15 per month so it’s hard to complain.

Our monthly telephone bill, which included a couple of awkward delay-filled calls back to the US was less than US$5. (Deborah’s sister Suzie made one such call to us and it cost her $95. Ouch.). Our electric bill is a little harder to decipher. The last one was for US$14, but the previous one actually showed a credit. It wasn’t because of any prepayment; the meter reading was actually less than the previous one. Apparently, if those in charge of meter reading don’t feel like making the long trek up your driveway they just “estimate” what it is. Personally I would have come up with an estimated reading that was higher than the last one so as not to indicate a negative usage, but that’s just me.

We have gas cylinders that supply the stove and instant hot water heater. Just yesterday we used up the first of two, and will have to take the empty into town to exchange for a full one. I don’t know what the cost will be yet. That’s pretty much it for utility costs. There’s no heating or cooling system, apart from the fans, and all the water we need conveniently falls on the roof and is collected in tanks below the house. There is no house-to-house garbage collection. People just drop off their bags of refuse at platforms spaced along the main roads. The platforms are raised up off the ground to eliminate a source of temptation from the local dog population, although they are usually too wiped out by the heat to do much mischief.

This is the garbage platform we used until they tore it down, replaced by a big, fancy metal one

Language

Fijians, not surprisingly, speak Fijian. That is their mother tongue and the one they use most of the time. There are some 300 different dialects but also one variation they all learn which is considered standard Fijian. In addition, the Indo-Fijians, those descendents of the indentured servants brought from India to work the plantations, speak a variation of Hindi known as Fiji-Hindi. Fortunately for us, nearly all the residents of this former British colony also speak English to at least some extent. And all the signs and official forms are in English. So we have it easy here. We try to say “bula” instead of “hello,” and “vanaka” instead of “thank you,” but if we forget it’s no big deal. Usually the locals take one look at our skin pigmentation and switch to English anyway.

All signs are in English, making it easy for "bona fide visitors"

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Where else can you get your photocopies, 2nd hand books and meat all in one shop?

Fiji Critter Profile: Miniature Ants

The ants here are tiny, maybe an eighth of an inch (.3 cm) long, and ubiquitous. You see long lines of them marching along the deck toward some mysterious destination. You see individual ones scouting for treasure, scurrying along the floor, across the kitchen counter, up the bathroom wall, along the rim of your drinking glass (occasionally falling in). If you are foolish enough to drop a crumb or leave an unattended nibblet of cat food they will promptly find it, alert their brethren, and swarm over it as if it were manna from heaven. If you don’t thoroughly clean the can opener they will swarm over that. If you only seal your bag of cookies by rolling up the open end and securing it with a clothes pin, they will find a way inside. If you rely on the individual foil wrappers to protect your bouillon cubes you will find them eaten right through. Better use a zip lock bag. And make it a good one, because the cheap ones leave just enough of an opening for the little pests to gain access anyway. They even like to traipse around my paint palette, especially if I’m using Transparent Gold Ocher. For some reason they find that particular color quite tasty. Weird buggers.

Deborah does battle with them daily in the kitchen. She places blocks of camphor at strategic locations to repel them. She wipes the counter down with eucalyptus oil. She seals up leftovers immediately and places everything she can in the small refrigerator. We’ve probably ingested a few by accident when they’ve crawled onto our plate or dropped into our cup. They’re so small you’d hardly notice. Just a little extra tropical seasoning.

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When not fighting ants, Deborah likes to eat at restaurants by Savusavu Bay

Bananas

I don’t know if was the bananas or one of the other substances Deborah force fed me yesterday but I feel normal again. Speaking of bananas, we had Semoko harvest the plant in our yard a couple of days ago. Some of the bananas were turning yellow so it was time. I didn’t know this but once you harvest the bananas, the plant dies. If you don’t harvest, it dies anyway. Sometimes it just falls over from the weight of the bunch. (Not a very smart plant if you ask me). I always assumed the same plant kept producing fruit but apparently that is not the case. They just reseed themselves and new plants pop up elsewhere. We have a couple others going on in the yard now.

Semoko had brought us a few bananas from one of his plants so we let him take the whole bunch from our tree, which we could never eat – especially now that I’m well again and don’t have to take such fruity medicine. I have to say though that Deborah makes a pretty good smoothie, even when she slips a banana into the mix.

Semoko with freshly harvested bananas

(photo by Deborah)

Sick Again

Just as I get over my head cold, give it to Deborah, she gets over it, along with her bladder infection and indigestion/lump-in-throat issues, I get sick again. At first I thought it was just an overdose of Fijian bread (which at first I quite liked but now will probably never eat again), which sat like a giant mango pit in my stomach. Then came more symptoms – though none particularly severe – which suggested something other than overeating strange indigenous cuisine was involved. I will spare you the gruesome details but suffice it to say that I am normally a very “regular” guy yet this malady was wrenching my bowels to alternate extremes of dysfunction.

Today nurse Deborah has taken control of my diet and force fed me bananas, which I do not at all care for (even Fijian ones), and plain rice, which actually tasted good despite the complete lack of condiments or sauces. She also went to town in search of Gatorade or some similar electrolyte replacement drink. The grocery store had no such thing, but suggested she pay a visit to the good Dr. Joeli. He was able to fix her up with some powdered drink mix which fortunately does what Gatorade does but unfortunately tastes much worse. He also offered some charcoal tablets, also to mix with water. I think that is the first time I ever drank anything black.

And now a random photo from Savusavu:

Fijian phone booth

(design courtesy of the Klingon Empire)

Kitty Update

We’ve asked around a bit more about our new cat. The consensus among the neighbors is that she is a “bush cat,” i.e., wild. Neighbor caretaker Semoko thinks he knows the mother, a grey bush cat. One of the other neighbors has two cats, one of which bears a striking resemblance to our little one. We don’t hold high hopes that this deadbeat dad cat will own up to his parental responsibilities.

She continues to stop by everyday, we’d like to think for the pleasure of our company; however, the fact that we feed her may have something to do with it. We try not to overfeed her so that she continues to hone her hunting skills, but it is hard to resist her rapidly developing begging abilities. I think the neighbors are slightly bemused at our concern for the cat, which they seem to think is perfectly capable of fending for itself in the great outdoors. They may well be right but this particular feline has successfully manipulated us into feeding her via the strategic application of large round eyes and pitiful cries of the proper pitch to appeal to our fellow-mammalian nurturing instincts. We are goners.

We do manage to pet her a little as she eats, but this is an activity she clearly views as something to be endured rather than enjoyed. She slinks low to the ground, away from our touch, and eats as rapidly as possible. She used to just bolt as soon as she had cleaned her plate, but now will stick around a fair bit. And now she will stop by multiple times during the day. We’ve even got her interested in playing with string, that seemingly universal toy of the cat world. It’s just killing Deborah that she can’t pick the kitten up and smother her with kisses, though. Every time she expresses this desire I have visions of driving Deborah’s scratched and bleeding body to what passes for a hospital here in Savusavu, followed by weeks of battling infections in a tropical climate. So hopefully she will continue to restrain herself. But so far the kitty has been very passive around us, and grows more and more comfortable around us each day. As long as we keep feeding her.

Like any good "bush cat" she can climb trees

(photo by Deborah)






Must.....get.......string.....

Coconuts

I successfully hunted and killed my first coconut. By “hunted,” of course, I mean “found along the road.” It was still a bit green – a sign of freshness – as opposed to the very brown ones you normally see scattered about. Like every good resident of Fiji, Tobi has a machete, or cane knife as they call them here. So I used that to hack away at the husk (the pulpy mass surrounding the nut, which, incidentally, is actually a seed, not a nut) all the while thinking of Tom Hanks’ first encounter with a coconut in the movie “Castaway.” Even with the benefit of the cane knife (which Tom didn’t have) this was no easy feat. But eventually I was able to strip away all that lay between me and nut. This exposed three dark spots at one end which are soft spots in the shell that are easily pierced to let the coconut water drain out. Supposedly, the greener the coconut, the sweeter the water. In our case the water was pretty good, although Deborah has more of a taste for it than I do. She even considers the mild laxative effect an added benefit.

Next it was a just a matter of banging the nut with a hammer to break it into manageable bits, and using a knife to cut the meat from the shell. Apparently, with green coconuts plucked from the tree the meat is really soft and jello-like and can be scooped out with a spoon. Our coconut was too ripe for any such “spoon meat,” as it is called, but the more conventional, harder meat was much to Deborah’s liking. Good thing since I spent a good hour and a half whittling away at the thing. Personally I would have to say I prefer my coconut shredded and cooked as a coating on a prawn, or maybe mixed with chocolate in a Mounds Bar. But that’s just me.

Step One: Remove husk, not toes

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Step Two: Peel away remaining hairy mess to reveal the nut

(which isn't really a nut)

Step Three: Poke holes in soft parts of shell to drain coconut water into glass

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Step Four: Take one unsatisfying sip of coconut water and hand remainder to wife

Step Five: Wrap drained shell in towel and beat to death with a hammer



Step Six: Spend hours tediously removing meat from shell to keep wife happy

Our Neighborhood

We have a very private spot up here on the ridge. Our nearest neighbor is Semoko who is actually the caretaker for a Dubai-based airline pilot and his wife who seldom make it over to Fiji. We can just barely see the roof of his house below us through the trees. Steve and Iretta are still further down the hill but we can’t see their place at all. There are other neighbors across a small valley toward town from us, but the thick vegetation prevents us from seeing them. We do hear them though. They are a mix of Indigenous-Fijian, Indo-Fijian, and Chinese-Fijian families and they all seem to have barking dogs, clucking chickens, crowing roosters, bleating goats, mooing cows, and squealing children (sometimes it’s very hard to distinguish the sounds of children from that of the goats). We also occasionally hear short bursts of Bollywood music from someone’s stereo, but not for very long.

The noise bothered us at first but now we hardly notice it. We’re not sure if we are just used to the roosters now or if they were slaughtered for Christmas dinner. Even the dogs, who love to chase each of the infrequent cars, serve a function as anyone coming to visit us must pass the barking gauntlet to reach our house so we have a good two-minutes warning when a visitor approaches. As the road continues past our house and up away from town, there are only vacant lots, many with killer views.

The road back down the hill to town is spotted with simple houses on gorgeous, green, palm-filled acreage. The fancier expat dwellings tend to be out of view up side roads and steep driveways leading to the best view property. When we walk to town we are inevitably greeted with “Bula” (hello) from almost everyone we see. Deborah takes her hiking sticks, which help her tremendously on the steep sections, but the locals, who have never seen such a thing, think there is something wrong with her legs. She imagines they refer to her as the crazy, red-faced blonde woman who walks with sticks.
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Semoko's house

Driveway to the Wong's

The Wong's house

Architectural Digest's 2009 winner for carport of the year
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Another neighbor


View from the road


Crazy, red-faced blonde woman who walks with sticks

Fiji Critter Profile: Stick Insects

Stick insects are common here. We often see them munching on the vegetation off the front deck. Occasionally they show up clinging to the sides of the house or in other odd locations. I think the males tend to be smaller and more colorful. The ones we’ve seen have varied in length from about 4 inches (10 cm) to 7 inches (18 cm). Despite their rather unaesthetic method of pruning the local flora, we think they are quite cool.

Sticks in love

Market Day

Food is cheap here, especially local fruits, vegetables and fish. Today at the farmer’s market we picked up from our favorite vendor Marie two mangoes, two avocados, a papaya, and a bag of shredded coconut that she scraped herself per our earlier request. Total bill: US$3.60. We also picked up a couple of Mahi Mahi steaks (about 1 kg, or 2 lb) for about US$2.20. Passion fruits are about US$0.10 each, bananas are US$0.13 each. A loaf of bread (albeit an unexciting one) costs US$0.50. Maria’s more interesting Fijian “bread” is US$0.52. A small fresh whole red snapper cost us just US$1.31.

Anything that has to be imported is of course more expensive. Grapes, for instance, are US$4.28/lb (still not bad, and they’re really tasty). A large 12 oz can of cat food is US$1.57. Boxes of cereal, what few varieties are available, are anywhere from US$3 to US$10 per box. Incidentally, almost every box you see on a shelf, no matter what product they contain, is dented, dinged up or partially crushed. They all look like they’ve had a rough journey on the container ship from Australia, New Zealand, China, or wherever.

Quality appliances, both large and small, are in short supply. To supplement Tobi’s sparsely equipped kitchen we bought a mixer with which to make smoothies. We were surprised and delighted when the merchant insisted on taking the mixer out of the box to test its function before completing the sale. Good thing, too, as the first model died a quick death at the nearest outlet. The second model worked fine. Much to our surprise they repacked the first defective model, retaped the box, and put it back on the shelf. ?! When we got the mixer home we completely unpacked it only to discover the glass pitcher was broken (they didn’t look at that part in the store). Deborah took it back the next day for a replacement part. You’d think they’d just use the pitcher from the defective model that crapped out the previous day, but instead they gave her an entire new box, but not until after arguing amongst themselves and then accusing Deborah of having broken it. Eventually they relented and we now have a mixer. It only cost US$20 but you can tell its a really cheap piece of plastic crap. Fortunately it only has to last four months, although if it even makes it that long I’ll be astonished.

All this for US$5.80

Globus Hystericus

Deborah’s medical ailments have proven stubborn. Her version of “our” head cold seems to be worse than mine. She started taking the antibiotics we brought with us, which seemed to help initially, but the last few nights she has had trouble getting to sleep. She has felt like she had a lump in her throat that made it hard to swallow and was very distressing. Last night she couldn’t get her antibiotic to go all the way down and was ingesting glass after glass of water, followed by cups of tea to melt the pill, and lots of soda pop to generate burps, which, however undainty, seemed to provide some relief. Not surprisingly, all that intake of fluids led to fourteen trips to the bathroom (yes, she counted). She didn’t get to sleep until 4am. Between all the flushing and belching I didn’t get much sleep either.

Today she paid a visit to the local physician Dr. Joeli, who is eighty years old but, according to Deborah, looks sixty. He patiently listened to her list of complaints and, while refraining from rolling his eyes and muttering “spoiled, high-strung, American hypochondriac,” he instead diagnosed Global Hystericus. That sounds like a psychiatric illness, and it is sort of, but it’s brought about by a physical condition related to acid reflux or indigestion or some other gastroenterological annoyance. Between her head cold, food allergies, and the fact that she was opening up certain capsules to make them easier to swallow, she may have had just too much irritation going on in her esophagus. And part of Globus Hystericus is that you feel this lump in your throat, get worried about it, which makes the lump feel worse, which makes you worry more, and so on. Dr. Joeli gave her some throat lozenges (or lozengers, in Deborah’s Maryland accent) and recommended she continue to eat a healthy diet (avoiding allergy foods of course), drink lots of water, meditate to lower her stress level, and get out of the hammock and exercise to ensure a feeling of tiredness at night. He wasn’t sure he would have recommended taking the antibiotics but thought she should go ahead and finish those anyway. And she should think about having her swallowing problem looked at in more detail when she gets home. The 25-30 minute doctor visit was only US$15 plus US$1.50 for the lozenges.

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When she got back to the house Deborah did some online research which mentioned the possible treatment with antacids and she remembered some Zantac she had packed and decided to take that to combat her indigestion and reports almost immediate relief, including the diminishment of the mysterious throat lump. We may actually sleep tonight. And from now on I can, when it suits me, point out to Deborah that she has been officially diagnosed as "hysterical."

Popcorn

It is inevitable that when you go someplace new you will discover new food items that quickly feel indispensible. I’ve always been lukewarm on papayas, but the local ones here are to die for. The pineapples are also probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. Passion fruit, I’ve discovered, is pretty good. Lettuce can be harder to find but there are small heads grown hydroponically that are quite good. Marie at the farmer’s market makes something called Fijian “bread,” which doesn’t actually look anything like bread. It is made from coconut milk and plantains and comes wrapped in a large leaf of some kind. It looks like a large glue stick left too long in the sun, but is actually really tasty. Marie is also going to make some homemade coconut milk for us using the liquid from inside the coconut plus scrapings of the coconut meat. She says it is good with cooked taro leaves, which will also be a first for us.

The Indian influence is widely felt in the markets here as well. They have all sorts of crunchy snack foods with names like Chevda, Fried Ghana and Mix Bhuja. I’m a sucker for crispy munchies and like most of these, although Deborah complains that certain ones give my breath a pungency that no amount of teeth brushing will remedy. She swears it even oozes out of my pores. I tell her it’s to repel the mosquitoes but apparently it is she who is being repelled.

Another really good crunchy treat we’ve discovered are dried peas rolled in soybean oil and salt. I don’t even like normal peas, mushy little green phlegm balls that they are, but these dried ones are delicious (and addictive). Unfortunately for Deborah, her many food allergies and sensitivities have a striking correlation with the types of foods that are available here, and her health has been suffering as a result. We think the soybean oil on the peas is a problem for her, as are all the split peas and lentils (Dhal soup), wheat products, MSG in some packaged foods, lots of dairy (no rice milk or almond milk here), beer (more wheat) rather than wine, which is expensive here, etc.

Deborah also misses a good cup of coffee and ice cream, although we did find a shop that had ice cream cones. You don’t get to pick a flavor; it just comes as a three-colored variety – white, pink, and green. We couldn’t detect any difference in taste between the different colors. I mostly miss the almond milk and a good selection of cold cereals. The choices here are really limited. Bread is mostly boring white; none of the hearty multi-grain loaves that I prefer. One thing we missed until spotting it today in one of the grocery store is popcorn. Deborah cooked it up with Ghee (clarified butter, another Indian favorite) and it tasted like decadence.

The cat likes popcorn too. She continues to come around more and more, and doesn’t just take off as soon as she is done eating. She is a little less scared of us and more interested in exploring the house. We are now even able to pet her a little bit as she is eating. It’s progress.

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Fiji Critter Profile: Little Black Vampires (aka Mosquitoes)

The mosquitoes here are black rather than brown, and a bit smaller than those back home. The size may give them an advantage because you can’t feel them biting you. You just have to be lucky enough to see them on you and then hope your hand is fast enough to yield a tiny but satisfying splat on your leg.

What the Fijian mosquitoes lack in size they more than make up for in number. Our first couple of days here we pretty much got eaten alive (I counted eighteen bites on my left foot and ankle alone) partly because of the rains the previous days, which always seems to make them more plentiful, and partly because we hadn’t yet mastered our pest defense techniques.

Now we know that personal repellant is best applied in early morning and late afternoon when the little vampires are most active. We know that the itch can be calmed with calendula cream or Purell (thanks for that last tip, Sandy). We know tea tree oil also helps with itching and is great as an anti-inflammatory and disinfectant. We are also now well-equipped with mosquito coils, which burn slowly and release an acrid smoke that deters the bugs, but smells so nasty that it also deters us sometimes. Citronella candles aren’t quite as effective as the coils but are sometimes enough and they smell much better. If we were veterans of lakeside summers in Minnesota maybe we would know all this stuff already, but our home in Olympia is pretty much mosquito-free so this is a new challenge for us.

Another interesting thing about the Fijian mosquitoes is that they typically stand on only four legs. Their other two hind legs, which incidentally are banded with lighter stripes, tend to sweep out behind them floating above the ground as if they were merely decorative. It’s as if the mosquito wishes not just to suck your blood but to taunt you as well by proving she can do so with two legs tied behind her back.

One of the unlucky ones

A Brief History of Fiji, Part Two

WARNING: The following contains educational material and may cause your head to explode.

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When the British made Fiji a crown colony in 1874 they took steps to ensure the cooperation of the chiefs and maintain good relations with their subjects. One such step was to forbid the sale of land to foreigners (83% of the land is still owned by indigenous Fijians). Another was to combat exploitation of the locals by prohibiting their employment as plantation laborers. That’s why they brought in the indentured servants from India. After the indenture system ended in 1919 the Indians, who were restricted from buying Fijian land, went instead into small business (most shops are still owned by Indians) or took out long-term leases as independent farmers.

The colonial government found that the Indo-Fijians, as they became to be called, made a convenient scapegoat for the country’s problems. They also discouraged interaction between Indians and Indigenous Fijians and raised fears that the Indian population could grow to become the majority. This background played a large role in the subsequent political dramas.

Fiji became an independent country in 1970 after nearly one hundred years of British colonial rule. An economic boom in the immediate postindependence years was followed by hard times in the 1980s following a drop in sugar prices. The economic woes exacerbated ethnic tensions. What followed were a series of elections, coups, invalidation of the constitution, writing a new constitution, more elections, more coups, more constitutions... Much of the turmoil was centered on Fijian fears of losing their land rights and of Indo-Fijian political and economic domination on the one hand, and a desire for multi-ethnic democracy on the other. The result of all the political chaos has been significant emigration of Indo-Fijians from Fiji, damage to the tourism industry and to much of the rest of the economy, and widespread international condemnation.

The most recent coup was in 2006 and the most recent constitutional crisis was just last April. Despite these seemingly undemocratic developments and the finger wagging of the international community, the people we’ve talked to (mostly expats) seem to feel the new military government has actually gotten rid of a lot of the corruption, cracked down on petty crime, and freed up funds for road maintenance and school bus programs. It also seems interested in reducing the anti-Indian discrimination in official policy. From our vantage it all seems very peaceful here, with the bulk of the theatrics presumably played out in the government offices in far off Suva on the big island.

Note: much of the above was taken from “Lonely Planet, Fiji”

Beach Day

Today we finally feel like we’ve turned the corner on our illnesses. Yesterday I was in danger of depleting the island’s supply of Kleenex. Despite my runny proboscis we went to the beach that morning. Our island of Vanua Levu isn’t known for its great beaches – other Fiji island groups like the Yasawas and Mamanucas are, and they’re the ones that draw the bulk of the tourists. Also, I suspect the best of what is available on this island has already been appropriated by the fancy resorts. Still we managed to find a nice, uninhabited, mostly sandy stretch with palm trees and warm shallow water that suited us just fine. I’m not a big beach person anyway, but Deborah occasionally likes to go “sit in some warm water.” I forgot to bring my camera so the beach photos will have to wait until next time.

The cat continues to hang around, although only long enough to be fed. She (we are assuming female gender for no particular reason) is still very jumpy and will bolt at the slightest movement from us. This makes us think she is either totally wild or came from a home that treated her badly. We are making progress though. As long as we are very, very still she will eat from a bowl placed right next to us. We even got her to eat a chunk of tuna from Deborah’s hand as Deborah lay perfectly still on her back with an outstretched arm. The socialization experiment continues...

Hard at work on the blog

(photo by Deborah)

Jane Goodall Comes to Fiji

Our feline visitor continues to hang around the house, although he/she is still quite skittish. Deborah has been doing her best Jane Goodall impression by parking herself in a nonthreatening position on the deck or in the yard within eyeshot of the kitten. She places food between herself and the kitten at ever decreasing distances. Last night the savory smell of tuna drew the little fluff ball within just a few feet of Deborah. We’ll keep working at it but this socialization process could be a lengthy one.

Today, in need of cat food and a few other items, as well as some exercise, we decided to walk to town. The walk down wasn’t bad but the uphill slog in the full heat of a very sunny day left Deborah red faced and panting. We are both still recovering from our illnesses, plus Deborah had some sort of MSG reaction to the package of noodles she had last night. No more Top Ramen for that girl.

The plate she licked clean; the box she sniffed but didn't enter.

A Brief History of Fiji - Part One

Although some of the islands of the Melanesia group were inhabited tens of thousands of years ago, Fiji was first settled only about 3000 years ago, in 1220 BC. Around 500 BC the inhabitants got bored with their coastal fishing lifestyle and instead transitioned into the exciting world of agriculture. The population also expanded at this time, as did the incidence of intertribal feuding, ring moat-fortified villages, and such socially inappropriate rituals as cannibalism. The Fijians’ war-like tendencies were not softened when warriors from Tonga and Samoa started incursions around AD 1000.

The first European explorer to stumble across Fiji was the Dutchman Abel Tasman who sighted the islands in 1643. His lurid descriptions of the treacherous reefs kept other mariners away for the next 130 years. But eventually such infamous Brits as James Cook and Captain Bligh paid visits in 1774 and 1789, respectively.

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As better maps of the surrounding reefs were developed the whalers and traders soon moved in. The most sought after commodities for trade were sandalwood and, believe it or not, sea cucumber. The Tongans originally controlled the Sandalwood trade but the Europeans were able to eventually cut out the middle man and deal directly with the Fijians in 1805. In just eight years of unbridled greed the sandalwood supply was depleted, but the Fijians were the proud owners of lots of gunpowder and shiny new muskets with which they proceeded to kill each other in years of violent tribal warfare.

The 19th century brought commercial settlements as trade in cotton, copra (coconut) and sugar boomed. To work the plantations the Europeans brought in laborers from other Pacific Islanders via deception, bribery, and what eventually developed into an organized system of kidnapping. By 1874 British commercial interests were sufficient such that, after negotiations with a powerful chief with large debts, it decided to make Fiji a crown colony.

Beginning in 1878, a new labor source was found for the plantations in the form of indentured laborers from another British colony: India. By 1919 when the program officially ended over 60,000 indentured laborers were in Fiji. Despite enormously harsh conditions, most decided to stay after their contracts had ended, and many brought their families from India to join them. Today Indo-Fijians, as their descendents are called, make up over a third of the population. Not surprisingly, ethnic tensions have played a large role in the politics of the last century. More on that in Part 2.

The Visitor

For a couple of nights we’ve heard what sounded like the cries of a kitten. We’d always go outside in search of the source but were never successful. Then this morning, while seated in a location that shall remain nameless, I saw through the bathroom window the likely responsible party: an orange kitten of maybe 4-6 months in age who was walking through the yard. By the time Deborah opened a can of cat food that happened to be in the house, the skittish feline had disappeared back into the jungle. But Deborah went ahead and put a dish of food out near the location of the sighting and sure enough a couple minutes later the cat came back and cleaned the plate.

It looked healthy enough so maybe it belongs to one of the neighbors, but the mournful sound of its cries the previous evenings and the eagerness with which it ate the offered meal make us wonder if it is a stray. We’ve asked a couple of the neighbors who make no claim on the cat, but there are still other neighbors to question, and we need to know why Tobi had that can of cat food in the house in the first place.

I think Deborah is hoping it is a stray so that she has a new “nurturing project” to occupy her time. She is already planning the construction of a cat bed using a cardboard box we have, and is developing a strategy of food dispersal to lure the kitten closer and closer to the house. All this is understandable given how we miss our own cat back home, even though we know it is in the tender care of my parents.

Exotic wildlife of Fiji

Here Comes the Rain Again

Of course as soon as I wrote how pleasant the weather has been we get hit by two solid days of rain, followed by a couple days of on-again off-again showers. At least it is warm rain. Now I’ve come down with a sore throat and Deborah has a sore bladder. And it appears I may have given her my sore throat. Hopefully she doesn’t return the favor with the bladder.

Sunday Deborah announced she didn’t feel like cooking (can’t blame her) so we tried one of the restaurants in town where we shared a larger-than-we-could-finish vegetarian pizza (Deborah allowed herself a rare test of her wheat intolerance). It was a delectable meal for only US$11. The only other time we ate out here it was at an Indian restaurant where our curry lunches, milk shake and pineapple juice came to just US$9. And they don’t tip here.

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Here are some photos taken around the house of plant life that rather likes the rain: