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Published: October 21st 2007
The rugged interior of Viti Levu
a sight most tourists neglect in favour of island hoppingFiji - quite possibly the friendliest and most welcoming country in the world? I got off the plane to find three gentlemen with flowery shirts and afros, singing and playing guitar. Welcome to Fiji. Sadly, I ran into a little trouble shortly after that... On the flight from New Zealand, I was talking to an Indian gentlman for most of the way. As the plane touched down, he asked me if I was buying any duty-free. I replied in the negative, and he asked if he could use my share. Why not, I thought. He bought an extra few bottles and I carried them through customs in a plastic bag. A tall Fijian guy in uniform with serious looking eyes suddenly loomed over me and said "is this your duty-free?". "Yes" I replied. "Are you travelling with anyone?" he says. I am just about to reply no, when the Indian guy appears over my shoulder and says "yes, he's travelling with me". WRONG ANSWER!! We should have just walked through separately, and I would have given him the bag outside the airport. Low risk, foolproof, job done. The customs officer looks at me with a raised eyebrow and says "do you
Gathering Crops
locals loading up sugar cane know this man?" I reply yes, which was technically true since I met him on the plane. But then the Indian guy pipes up again and says "yes, we've known each other for ten years" SHUT UP, I'm thinking. Togther we look like the most unlikely travelling companions. I'm a scruffy backpacker, and he is a well-dressed Indian man in his forties. The custom guy fixes me with a hard stare and says "did you pay for this duty-free yourself?" What should I do? What should I do? I thought. My mind and my pulse were racing. Admit I have already lied, or try to blag it further? I told him I had bought it myself. He held my stare for a moment longer, and then said "welcome to Fiji" and let us both through. Phew! Close call....
Once outside the airport I gave the guy his duty-free and bade him farewell. A few moments later I get a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's the customs officer! He had followed me. He wanted to know where my duty-free was, and had I given it to the other guy. I came clean and admitted I had
more mountains
with some English bloke in front of them given it to him. He took me to a detention room, then collared the Indian guy and brought him in too. The questioning started, but the Indian guy was still insisting that we had known each other for years and that nothing was amiss. He was babbling away, and I had to cut him off. "Look" I said, "We've been caught fair and square. Let's just come clean". Even then, the guy was trying to stick to his story! Idiot. I apologised to the customs officer and said I was just trying to do the guy a favour. I was released with a smack on the wrist, but the other guy was detained for "smuggling" and "exploiting innocent tourists". Seemed a bit harsh, but he bungled this himself, so only has himself to blame.
So, I was on the island of Viti Levu. Once upon a time I thought Fiji was just an island. It's not. It's actually an archipelago of 322 islands, the main one of which is Viti Levu. I stayed at a backpackers called "Nadi Bay Resort", which nestled somewhere between a hostel and a psh hotel, with two pools and three bars. All the staff
village family
curiously, the lady has a full beard! were incredibly friendly and wore flower-print shirts with flower garlands. And they all remembered everyone's name! ("Good Morning Peter, how are you today?"). The ladies also had a lovely habit of calling everyone "darling". Not the awright darlin' of London Town, but the way your favourite Aunty might say it.
I have already said that the Fijians are possibly the friendliest people on earth. This is embodied in the wonderful greeting of "Bula!" It means hello, welcome, and cheers/good health. But the thing is, everyone says it all the time. You walk down the street and strangers say "Bula!". You can be walking down a country lane and people in a field ten metres away will shout "Bula!". Kids run out of houses to wave at you and say "Bula!". The exclamation point is important. "Bula!" is said loudly, clearly and with enthusiasm, not muttered haf-heartedly. And if you want to say a bigger hello, or wish somone a warmer welcome, you just say it twice: "Bula Bula!". Although apparently, the Bulas are less forthcoming on the backpacker party islands. Faced with endless hordes of drunken Club 18-30 types, I am not suprised.
I'm sure you have heard
the chief's bure
Nasouri Highlands Village the stories, but in contrast to the current friendliness, cannibalism used to be widely practised on Fiji. They even had ceremonial forks which they would sometimes use for their feasting. One missionary report from 1844 stated that two men were captured in a tribal war, to be killed and eaten. The chief told his brother the manner in which they were going to be killed. His brother had recently been converted to Christianity, and protested, saying it was cruel. He offered to give the chief his best canoe if he spared the men. The chief replied "keep your canoe. I want to eat men". The captured men were then made to dig a hole to be used as an oven, and had to cut firewood to be used to roast their own bodies. The men then had fish hooks put into their tongues and pulled out as far as possible before being cut off. These were roasted and eaten, to the taunts of "We are eating your tongues!" Finally, the men had a slit made in their bellies and their bowels were pulled out, which ensured a timely demise.
The Revered John Watsford also recorded in 1846 that a
the good ship venus
our vessel to the desert island chief had a special box in which he kept human flesh. Legs and arms were salted to preserve them and kept in there. If he saw anyone else who was fatter than him, even his friends, he would order them killed and would have their arms and legs part roasted to eat immediately, and part preserved for his box. Grim stuff eh?
But about ten years ago, a Fijian village offered it's apologies to the family of a missionary who had been eaten 136 years previously. The village had experienced extreme bad luck over the years, and they thought by apologising, it would lift whatever curse was on the village. When the missionary was eaten, they also cooked his boots for a week, but they were too tough. The apology took the form of presenting the overcooked boots to the family, compete with chew marks on the soles!
Mosquitos were not a huge problem in Fiji, but the few that showed up for a feast were cheeky buggers. One night I had three bites on my face, and I thought this was well out of order. Anywhere else in the world there seems to be a code of
ahoy there me hearties
it's a hard life at sea honour amongst mosquitos. They will bite almost anywhere, but the face is off limits. I showed my bites to a girl I was sharing a dorm with and she said "that's not fair. The face is off limits". "My thoughts exactly!" I said
The next day, myself and an English girl called Liz took a guided tour into the heart of the main island. Most people just fly to the island and then leave island hopping the next day. They never see the interior of the mainland, which is a real shame. Our guide was a middle-aged Indian guy who was a wealth of knowledge about Fiji. He told us that Fiji has a decent public health system, but sometimes things don't go according to plan. Apparently two men with the same name were admitted to hospital at the same time for different operations. One was booked in to have a wart removed, and the other was due to have a leg amputated. (you can probably guess what is coming next). They got the patients mixed up, and the wart-guy came round after the anaesthetic to find one leg missing! I bet he was hopping mad. In another story,
paradise!
our own deserted island for the day a man collapsed while working in his field. His wife called the ambulance, but the medic pronoucned him dead-on-arrival. He was taken to the mortuary and slid inside a storage cabinet. Several hours later, the mortician heard a banging from inside. It was the man, alive! The medic had misread his vital signs. Several years later, the man had an accident and again was pronounced dead-on-arrival and taken to the mortuary. In the middle of her grief, the wife suddenly sat up and thought "what if.....?" She drove down to the mortuary and made them open the drawer. The guy was inside, alive, and just coming around.
Anyway, back to the tour. The interior of the mainland was a suprise. Sweeping landscapes, hills and mountains. This area was called the Nasouri Highands. I asked the guide what the largest mountain was called, and he said "Nasouri Highlands Mountain." Original. We then visited a local village, met a family and wandered around. It was a genuine village experience. Our guide was not a big tourist operator, he was just a small-time independent guide, and I got the impression that not many tourists come here. The usual "village visit" in most countries involves the locals displaying rows of handicrafts for gullible tourists to buy at inflated prices. But here it was just genuine friendliness and curiosity. I asked the family what the village was called, and they said "Nasouri Highlands Village" Original once again.
In the village was a large thatched dwelling known as a "bure". This is where the chief of the village lives. Although there is a well established police force in the major cities, this village has no need of them. All issues and all crimes are brought before the chief of the village who decides the resolution and, if neccessary, the punishment. Any punishment takes the form of tying the offender to a vertical pole in the chief's bure, where he is beaten with a stick. The severity of the beating depends on the severity of the crime. But by and large it is a peaceful community, and such physical judgement is rare.
After the village visit, we walked to a small waterfall for a cooling swim and splash around. I didn't bother asking what the name of the waterfall was. I am sure it was "Nasouri Highlands Waterfall".
With the staggering amount of grasslands and fields on the island, I was suprised not to see a single sheep. I asked our guide about this and people have tried keeping sheep, but other people keep stealing them! Some of the Fijian men are big fellas, and apparently they go into the fields, tuck a sheep under their arms and run off. This could be where they get their practice for the rugby!
My time on Fiji was limited, but I did make it out to a deserted island for a day. I say deserted, but it soon filled up when we piled off our sailing ship. The island was very small, and it only took ten minutes to walk around the whole island. It was postcard-cliche paradise. White sands, crystal clear blue waters and sunny skies. The sun was relentless and it was a lobster cheeks moment that evening. Looking back, it would have been nice to spend a week island hopping, but I guess I'll have to leave that for my next trip !
As you may have realised by now, I am keen to expore the cuisines of every country I visit. In fact, my belly and tastebuds demand it. I was enchanted by the food of Fiji. The island is a mix of Fijians and Indians, and the divine food refects both influences. Thus there is plenty of fresh seafood, coconut and lime, combined with a plethora of spices introduced by the Indians. The result is a fragrant and exotic combination of Pacific Rim and Indian cuisines. I bought a cookbook which won an award at last years International Cookbook Awards in Tokyo, so prepare for some Fijian dinner parties when I get back!
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Aaron
non-member comment
Fijian Culture
Your story of visiting Fiji, everything from the issues with Customs to getting to know the locals, made me homesick for the time I spent in Fiji! Sounds like you were well rewarded for getting off the beaten path. From what I saw, most tribes are moving away from the thatched bures and towards plywood and cement, unfortunately. You might find the Tribewanted community interesting - they've built up a backpacker retreat off of the north shore of Vanua Levu together with the local Fijians that is true to Fijian culture. At least back to the cannibalism!