Marching in March

Now that life is becoming less exciting by just living here I am attempting to pick up and learn the small things that I encounter every day of my life. One big issue is the lack of organization that is occurring throughout my experiences with the Fijian way of life. The mounds of garbage that are deposited on a windy day in every nook and cranny due to the lack of care put forth in cleaning up after themselves, but also the lack of “rubbish” bins found around campus and the city. While walking to and from class I have had more issues having awkward dances with my peers than I am comfortable doing, because often they are a little more intimate than I would prefer them to be, at least they often smile which makes things a little better so I know that being in such an awkward situation isn’t such a big deal. The problem with walking is that I have always walked on the right side of the walkway when passing someone going the other. I thought this was a universally accepted code of conduct that all civilized human beings have figured out, but experience tells me I am very wrong. There seems to be no set or even an idea of what side someone is to pass on. At first I thought well maybe because they drive on the opposite side of the road they walk on the other also. After wriggling though a fair amount of groups of people I figured that theory was wrong also. I have begun to look way ahead of me and alter my path before I am within 30 meters of someone in order to avoid an encounter. Though this may seem like a small issue it can cause a lot of stress especially if you may be in a hurry, which I’ve never seen a local do a day in their life, or if maybe you’re in a bad mood and you don’t feel like looking up and seeing a smiling Fijian in your face trying to dodge around you.
Classes are yet to be resolve, and I doubt I am free from them yet. For on Monday the 8th, beginning our third week of classes I had another miscommunication for my ever so troublesome PL 307 course. The Wednesday before I had class and everything went well. I was on time, I wasn’t lost at all, the current replacement professor was there, and it turns out we will have a new one every week or so because the real Professor obviously doesn’t want to leave the Solomon Islands. During class I was handed a course guide, which contrary to my timetable of classes says that we will have class at 1 on Monday and Wednesday, where my schedule said 12 on Monday. Ok that is an easy fix, so Monday roles around and I was in the library like the angelic student I am, and decided I could be early for class at about 12:30. Of course. I show up and the entire class has already started. How could I have missed this one? I don’t know, but the other students sought out one of the professors who explained the time thing to them, but didn’t want to inform me of anything. Thank you. Class then ended at 1 so I missed half of the class that I have only been to 1 full class previously.
The organizational skills held here are not the only problem that has been a thorn in my side, but now I have experienced the deepest and greatest cultural difference Fiji loves so dearly. One day I didn’t have classes going on so I decided to run a few errands. I was heading down to the lower campus to hand in a sheet that will sign me up to take a class making me PADI certified scuba diver. Gonna be sweet. While I was searching for this elusive office I sought I bumped into one of the many rugby players who recognized me but I couldn’t put a name to him. Turns out his name is Marsh, pronounced Mas, and he was just wandering around waiting for his class to start. Once I found the office and go figure he wasn’t there I hung out with Mas for awhile. In the end he offered me to come with him and visit his house in Suva while he waited for class. Not sure why he would do that because it sounded as if his house was about a 45 minute bus ride and his class was in 2 hours, but I wasn’t going to argue. He ended up paying for my bus ride and he spontaneously bought me a drink from a street vendor downtown.
When we arrived at his house I met his mom Lo and his 2 year old cousin Alex who gave me the expected response by staring at me for the entire time I was there. I sort of just sat on his couch in the living room which consisted of two couches and a bookshelf, but very homely and I felt comfortable. They offered me some food, and even though I know better I can’t pass up free food I just knew I couldn’t eat to my fill because that would have taken forever. But I enjoyed a bowl of split pea soup, which was very good by the way, surprising by how simple it looked. Our table consisted of lying a cloth down on the floor where we sat cross legged and enjoyed the meal. Since he needed to be back for class, or so I thought we left, and when I left they offered me a mango, and I gladly accepted. I wasn’t sure what kind of response they were looking for because I thought they sort of just looked at me with anticipation of seeing me eat and enjoy it. So I bit through the skin and of course it was delicious, but a bit riper than most I’ve eaten before and there were juices all over me. As we were walking away Mas looked at me funny and asked “you eat the peel?” “Why doesn’t everybody?” of course not, but what was I supposed to do. Either way I looked ridiculous holding a mango pit, which is huge, and having mango juice layer my entire right arm. The good news it tasted good.
During this time I began to feel that I’ve seen Mas enough form one afternoon because I was around him for a number of hours without much to talk about, and every time I brought up taking off he would offer me an alternative that would involve me being around him. I should have expected this much because there isn’t a moment in a Fijian’s life where they aren’t surrounded by friends. He ended up asking me to wait for him after class. Semi reluctantly, but yet I knew I should at least for the cultural experiences. Afterwards him and a couple of classmates fed me some sort of fried Indian snack, I don’t remember the names and no one can ever tell me what anything is, but it is good. I have noticed that it is very common for everyone to be snacking on something or another. I believe this to be my frugal skills kicking in but I just wonder how everyone can afford to be constantly buying stuff to eat and drink from venders all of the time. But I do recall that I was told by one of my instructors for the Australearn program that Fijians do not hold a very high value on money or saving. I don’t know why but it is just how they are apparently.
Afterwards Mas exclaimed he had forgotten his shorts and then began another cultural misunderstanding that I will not address specifically to him, but I think I know what went wrong. I of course being very thankful for all that he has given me throughout the day offered to borrow him a pair of my shorts for practice. So I really reluctantly took him to my place, because I am somewhat ashamed of how nice our apartments are compared to how most locals live, and got him a pair of shorts. After practice I never saw him and figured they would be back the next. When that didn’t happen the realization hit me pretty quickly. I didn’t remember this at first, but as I learned about the culture I was told that Fijians are very giving and whenever somebody wants/needs something someone in the community is almost always willing to help them out and give whatever it is they need. I also heard that the concept of borrowing is used much less often than it would back in the states. So it turns out that I am down one pair of athletic shorts with one left, and knowing that I won’t be borrowing anything I may need in the future. I probably could ask for them back, but because I am not ignorant to the cultural differences around me I will be above that and accept the gift I so unknowingly gave.
Monday brought an unusual day for me to celebrate. But it turns out it was International Woman’s day and I broke one of the few rules that was given to me upon arriving here. Don’t join any protests. Well I can’t say this was much of a protest and I feel there must be a better way to be expressing your feelings about certain topics, especially ones as serious as this. We were marching for fairer laws protecting women and safer homes and streets. Sounded pretty much uncontroversial, until we began marching singing “Hey Hey Ho Ho Patriarchy has to go!” I began to question what was being implied. I believe they may be protesting the chiefly system Fiji has traditionally had throughout the villages. This topic really isn’t something I felt I should be protesting because customs and traditions are a whole different story compared to demanding equal rights before the law and protection. I was so lucky to sit next to a middle aged Fijian woman in my class the other day and she actually was appalled human rights activists who are demanding all of these women’s rights when most people who live in villages and are under this style of hierarchy are perfectly content and dedicated to upholding the system though people come in and demand that they are being treated unfairly, when the whole time they couldn’t feel any more differently. Hopefully I will be better informed while taking a human rights course of the situation in Fiji.
Since school has started things seemed to have slowed down as far as fun, crazy, and exciting adventures go, but I created my own super sweet adventure. Friday the 12th of March I was done with school and decided I should go shopping for groceries. While I was down there I felt a little ache in my belly signifying that I was hungry. So being the genius that I am I decided a culinary adventure should unfold. So, unfortunately after I bought 100 kg of food from the market I decided to take a stroll downtown and stop at every restaurant or store that had any delectable looking treats. Unfortunately I have found that most baked goods, even with the abundance of sugar, are rather dull. This trip for the most part concluded my suspicions but I was also surprised to find a number of rare treasures. For example a jamroll, which is pretty much a swiss cake roll except homemade with white cake and a jelly filling yummay!!! But then there are some things that aren’t so good, but with a name like Barfi how could it ever work out. Eventually I felt a little sick because I ate a not so chocolate, chocolate muffin that was colored brown, but really didn’t have any flavor. Until next time though, because there is so much more to eat!!!
On Friday evening I went to a Christian Fellowship on campus… it was ok. Singing songs I didn’t know and having a sermon spoken in a lot of Fijian, but the message was very convicting which is always a good thing to hear. I actually hurt when he was speaking because I felt as though he were talking to me. I would cringe in my seat and I think he was looking at me a lot being the only white person there, which is always an adventure in its self.
Saturday the 13th brought oh such a special day. We were bored, sort of, and I decided we needed something to do, so with a little quick thinking and some hand paints I created a jimmy rigged bocce ball set. Everything was going well besides the fact I was getting pummeled. I think I lost 2 to 10 in the first game, but still enjoyable. But we were up on a side hill and after we tossed the balls, and I missed horribly I was trotting down after towards them and POW. We have clothes lines outside our place and they are on a swivel from the middle with 4 prongs sticking out. Usually I can walk under them, and that is why being short is awesome, but not when I’m galloping down a hill. Anyways I have a pretty good cut on my forehead and a slight headache but that wasn’t going to stop me from more adventure of course.
Bloody and bruised I looked at my nemesis the fiend palm tree with its spherical nuts of delicious glory just hanging up there waiting for me to snag one. Using the inner thigh muscles in my groin region I squeezed the tree as if I were trying to ride it like a bull and it is trying to run away. Up I went 100 200 meters, or so I thought but it is actually the smallest one in our backyard and I was exhausted. 20 meters for real though. Once I arrived at the top I removed a few dead leaves and found there was absolutely no way to reach them. Through process of improvisation I pleaded for an onlooker to toss me up a machete in order to hack at one. Reluctantly she approached slowly hesitating to toss it up and possibly damage me. Meanwhile my vise of thigh muscle began to fail and notch by notch I was sliding down. Third toss made it up to me, but by then the Bob Villa unfaultable vice had lost its use so I slowly slid down the tree accepting defeat until the next day. My arms are scraped up pretty good, and I’ve been walking like a cowboy ever since because muscles in places they aren’t supposed to be felt as though they have swollen beyond comprehension and normal comfort. Luckily the onlookers had snagged a few the day before with a stick, and I got to enjoy some anyways.
That is the end of my adventures for the week but as of right now I am actually sitting in wait for the strongest hurricane, which it just got upgraded to be, in Fijian recorded history is going to land. Oh baby!!! I cannot wait. Hopefully our brick apartments have been built strongly enough to withstand gale force winds never known to the country before. Don’t worry we have plenty of water. But last time they had a pansy little cyclone back in December power was on the fritz for 2 whole weeks or so. Maybe won’t hear from me for awhile, but have no fear I know how to take care of myself. Shower in the wind and rain as long as coconuts aren’t flying through the air, and will kill me. But it is pretty exciting, because I’m going to be able to enjoy this for the first time ever. WHOO HOO going to be a great ride!! Wish me luck.
Also there has been complaints of the lack of comment allowances, and guess what? I’ve fixed it so shower me with all of your wonderful questions, comments, insults, or concerns. Have a fantastic Hurricaneless week.