Namatakula Village Homestay Travel Diary, Day Three

I'll tell you one thing, my white skin is not cut out for island living.  Fijians never put on sunscreen and never get burned.  I'm doing as much sun protection as possible and at this point am trying to keep my skin at a second-degree burn classification.

We wandered outside this morning to keep Kenyon occupied before breakfast.  The night before, we had been on our way back home from watching the kids play tag on the beach; Jackson and Alex joined in, and as we walked we heard shouts here and there of "Jackson!".  Jackson called to his friends to come by tomorrow; everyone is so welcoming.  As we passed a random village kid no more than 11 years old carrying a machete, we asked if he could open it.  He made quick work of it, expertly using the machete to rid the hard outer husk and opening a small circle at the top.

Sam wanted to open a coconut this morning, and Mikeli (who lives in Nadi but was in the village for a visit) was a willing teacher.  He grabbed the long bamboo pole kept handy just for this purpose and knocked a few down.  

 Every house has a metal post with a tapered top somewhere outside to use as a coconut opener.  Mikeli demonstrated his technique, jabbing it in at an angle and prying a section off.

Sam had a go at it; it takes much more finesse than it looks, as Sam’s first attempt prematurely punctured the inner section.  Jackson took a turn…

 And so did Kenyon.  Mikeli was so kind and patient, and would get Kenyon’s going so he could be at a place to make some progress on it.

The rain here comes fast and hard; here, after some coconut hunting, Sam and Mikeli chat out by the woodshed.  In this picture, you can also see the large green tank that collects the plentiful rainwater.

 

After breakfast, we headed to the beach for a few hours.

The water is a perfect temperature and shallow for quite a ways so there is plenty of room for the kids to play.  Sam and Jackson took masks, snorkel and fins (thanks, Summer!) out further to see some ocean life, and the village kids loved using the mask and goggles.

Fijians also seem to never drink good old-fashioned water.  At every meal, we are served Tang; I'm not sure if it's a special drink and we are guests or if that's just the drink of choice.  Rainwater is collected and put into a large barrel with a faucet; I was told by the expats we met at the Uprising Resort that the water in the village is likely fine, but to stay away from water in the cities.  Traveler's diarrhea and these bathroom conditions is something I would heartily like to avoid, so luckily the water seems to be just fine.

That afternoon, we went on a long walk out into the ocean during low tide for octopus hunting .  It's not the season, so we didn't find any, although other marine life was plentiful.

Alex discovering an amazingly bright blue starfish

Kenyon holding a sea cucumber

Although we didn't see any octopus, Sam did manage to spear a parrotfish, and Benja got one as well.

I was carrying Jackson piggyback back to the village--he had lost his shoes and was barefoot, which makes for a rough go on the coral, and I couldn't take the sun on my skin anymore.  As I walked, a tall, handsome young man far behind me said, "Bula!" and asked if he could carry my son for me.  He also offered to go back and look for Jackson's shoes.  I declined, but we walked together and learned that his name was Tocana and that he played rugby and worked at a resort.  He was from Namatakula but had traveled to Vancouver and Japan with his rugby team.  As we continued, he again asked if he could carry Jackson for me.  He put Jackson up on his shoulders, which made for a more pleasant walk.  He led me back to Simon and Judith's house, and from the young kids excitedly calling his name as he passed, you could tell he was very well-liked in the village.  This is the kind of warmth and friendliness that is the norm in the village; everyone cares for each other--even outsiders like us.

For our last dinner, they prepared a traditional lovo feast--a meal that is baked with hot stones underground, and is reserved for special occasions like weddings, birthdays and funerals.  Cassava and sweet potato are placed in a gorgeously-wrapped palm casing and placed in an underground fire to cook with hot stones under large taro leaves.

They also add other bundles of meats, and the taro and palm leaves along with the underground roasting add a wonderful smoky flavor.

peeling back the taro leaves to reveal the cooked food

opening the palm leaves to expose the cassava and sweet potato

Jacob and Sala bringing in the roasted cassava and sweet potato

Live crabs from yesterday's crab hunting were boiled with freshly shredded coconut.  Ili, Judith's daughter-in-law, painstakingly removes all the meat from the crabs, adds chopped onions, and then places the meat from a few crabs back into one shell.  This was by far the most delicious food I had during my stay (or for as long as I can remember, for that matter).  Rosa does most of the other cooking and we rarely saw her outside of the kitchen.

the wonderful chef, Rosa

In the morning, it was time to go.  We took some final pictures with everyone, and I shed a few tears as we left (surprise, surprise).

Such wonderful people and especially wonderful kids; I really love them.  I look forward to printing out pictures of them and sending some their way.

After leaving the village, it's one night in a hotel near the airport and on to Sydney!  I couldn't have imagined Fiji would have been as enriching as it was; it feels like we've been gone 6 months, not 5 days.  We're now ready to settle into our home for the next year!

goodbye Fiji...

Namatakula Village Travel Diary, Day Two

Kenyon woke up complaining of hunger this morning; it’s a little difficult to be on someone else’s schedule for eating.  We had woken up earlier than everyone else in the home and when I saw Rosa, Iso's wife, in the kitchen beginning to prepare some sort of dough I knew it would be a while.  Luckily, he was happily distracted by cartoons.  It’s an odd juxtaposition that this home that would be considered utter and complete poverty in the U.S. has a nice flat screen TV with channels like Nickelodeon that we don’t get at home in Colorado.  I was thankful for it this morning after hushing Kenyon’s complaints for food.

Breakfast was fresh papaya and lady finger bananas, Weet-Bix with milk (it becomes a sort of porridge when you add cut-up fruit and a sprinkling of Fijian sugar), and fried delicious dough pockets—I forget their name but it’s Fiji’s answer to donuts.  Plain or cut open with some jam, they’re great.  Alex devoured the porridge (he’s an oatmeal kid at home), and Jackson eats a lifetime supply of fruit at each meal.  The rest of the family in the kitchen eats what we don't eat, so I always want to leave plenty of good things but it is difficult with Simon and Judith's urgings to eat more and smiles when the boys take another helping of something.

After breakfast we took a walking tour of the village of Namatakula, which means ‘orange snake’, named when the first inhabitants arrived and saw such snakes.

They have now all been eradicated by the mongoose, which was brought over by Indian indentured servants.  People in the village offer a friendly ‘Bula!’ as we pass by, and of course everyone thinks it’s cute when Kenyon replies with his own ‘Bula’.

We hiked with locals Benja, Sala, and Jacob to the waterfall.  Benja was a little vague on what the hike entailed, and I’m glad I didn’t know because if I was fully informed I wouldn’t have gone and would have missed something so lovely.  It was a fairly grueling hour-long hike each way, through deep muddy paths and 8 river crossings.

this thing is seriously massive

Sam with a GIANT stick insect on his face

Kenyon is used to hiking, but this hike wasn't meant for little kids and he made it partway before hitching a ride piggyback on me the rest of the way.  This worked great until I slipped on one of the river crossings and hit his head on a rock—I can assure everyone (i.e. my mom) that there was no wound other than a bump and he was totally fine, THANKFULLY, since we were an hour hike, a two-hour drive, and a four-hour flight to Sydney for access to any sort of real medical care.

The waterfall was well worth the long hike, despite the fact that most of us were barefoot and I’m paranoid thinking of all the bacteria that could get into small wounds as we slogged through the mud that is surely part horse poop that was piled here and there from tourists making the hike on horseback.  I kept telling myself that we’re only here for three days and we can take care of anything that might happen when we get to Australia.  My mantra--Mosquito bites/infections/sunburns can only get so bad in three days.

Then I had a whole other set of worries to balance when Sam followed Jacob and Sala up the cliff to jump into the waterfall.

He made it fine, but then Jackson wanted a turn.  Cue more breath-holding.

After his success, I thought I’d try but really when it comes to thrill-seeking things like that I’m a wimp and decided it wasn’t worth it considering the lack of access to medical care.  It doesn’t look that far up in the pictures, but when you’re over there climbing it feels very far.

It is exceptionally hot today, and we came home and feasted on delicious rotis (handmade naan-like bread) with curried potatoes.

Kenyon spotting a hermit crab

At meals, Judith gives us a lot of great insight into life here.  I'm particularly interested in what it means to be a wife and mother, and she shared stories about childbirth, loss, and burial.  She expressed frustration that Fijian doctors can't find what is wrong with you until after you are dead. We also talked about what the missionaries have done for Fiji--good and bad.  She said that although the missionaries ended cannibalism (a good thing), the white men create a lot of trash and she is a firm believer that life was better in Fiji before the missionaries came over. 

Alex with his hermit crab (before giving it to a  village woman who uses them for bait)

I’m truly surprised and pleased at how well the kids are doing.  We are hot, have mosquito bites, our clothes are continually damp, and we’re living in third-world conditions.  But we’re also exploring the ocean, hiking to waterfalls, making new friends, and learning about a completely different culture.  Most importantly, and what makes it so special to me, is that we’re doing it together as a family.  

Bus Treks and Uprising

The bus ride to the Uprising Beach Resort was 3 hours long—I knew this, but hadn’t quite filled in Sam or the boys because I wasn’t sure if there would be mutiny to hear there would be 3 hours tacked on to our already massive trip.  It was a local bus, but big and air-conditioned.  I figured it would be packed with other tourists heading to their various resorts along the southern coast, but it was locals and us.  Along the way, as Jackson exclaimed with delight how he couldn’t believe how close the road was to the ocean, the men around us smiled.

Now, a 3-hour bus ride really isn’t so terrible, even after all the travel—but here’s the kicker. 

No food was allowed on the bus.

Have you read In The Heart of the Sea, the survival story of the men on the whaling boat?  One of the men who survived his whaling expeditions but always kept a stocked hanging net of food provisions right above him in his berth.  Sam must be a descendant of this guy; 3 hours without food is absolutely unthinkable.  I ended up breaking up the last of my dark chocolate bar with caramel and sea salt and distributing it among us (Kenyon was sleeping, so shhhh, don’t tell him that he missed out).

I told Sam that the bus ride was ‘like 2 hours or so’, and broke the news gently at about the 1 hour and 45 minute mark.  I’m alive to write this, so luckily it went okay.  

I really loved the bus ride, and my only frustration was that I saw so many things I wanted to photograph but all attempts were recorded as a blur.  Houses are incredibly simple by US standards; made of cinderblock with corrugated tin roofs.  The Hurricane Andrew survivor in me wondered how these structures would hold up in any sort of intense wind.  There was an occasional cow, chicken and horse.  We passed by hilly landscapes incredibly lush with greenery, and wove around the ocean scattered with palm trees and other tropical plants.  Fishing nets were laid out in one front yard, and at one bus stop a man was selling yellow squash-looking fruits under a newspaper.  As we waited, another bus pulled up next to us and we could see the women pointing and smiling at Jackson’s lighter hair, skin, and eyes.

I was absolutely sure that the bus ride would be 3 hours of management of the kids’ exhaustion, excitement, boredom, and punchiness.  I couldn’t have been more wrong, and thus could not be more thankful.  They all looked at the sights, Alex and Kenyon slept, and Jackson made attempts to read until our position in the back of the bus proved too bumpy.

Just at the point that were all starting to feel the hunger set in, the bus dropped us off on the side of the highway; we could see the sign to turn for our resort about 30 yards ahead.  No big deal, right?  Except for the fact that we had 6 large suitcases, 3 backpacks, a booster seat, a laptop bag, and a purse.  Laugh or cry, right?  Hahahahahahahaha.  All but one bag was a roller, so we balanced that one on a roller, all carried a few things, and set off wheeling everything on the gravelly road.  I prayed that when we made the turn into the resort, buildings would be visible immediately.  

We had walked about 20 feet when a pickup truck pulled over to the side of the road just in front of us.  I never got the man’s name, but let’s just call him Our Savior.  Our Savior asked us where we were going and loaded our suitcases in his truck.  We piled in and he drove us into the resort (which was quite a ways down the road)—his son went to school with the resort’s owner, so he was quite familiar with the place and drove us right up to the front.  We tried to thank him with some money, but he declined and said he was happy to do it.  I had read about Fijian hospitality and kindness, and it was evident just then.

At check-in, the beachfront bure that I had reserved back in May and dreamed about ever since was not available, and we were upgraded to a villa.  Although the villas are not directly on the sand like the bures, I can’t complain—this place is absolutely beautiful.  The kids are most impressed by the flat screen tv that swivels in the wall to face either the bedroom or the sitting room.  But for me, the outdoor shower is the best and I’m trying to figure out a way to install one in Denver.

 

As soon as we reenergized with some food, we explored and spent the rest of the day at the pool and beach.

The absolute highlight of the day happened that afternoon, when we walked down the beach and saw an American local taking a couple of kids at a time for rides out on his small catamaran.  We hung out and made a sand castle until he came back, and the older boys asked if they could go.  Kenyon of course didn’t want to miss out, so I went along with the three boys and Todd, the sailor, who turned out to be a retired California fireman who came down here to live; his decision was cemented by the arrival of his half-Fijian daughter, now 7 years old. 

Todd had Alex stand up on the horizontal part of the mast that holds the bottom of the sail; Alex leaned back against the sail and rode with the waves at a quick chop.  We sailed far out, where Todd knew of a reef that we could see, and the boys and I watched as coral passed underneath us and then dropped off like a wall.

When we reached shore, Sam was chatting with a British expat friend of Todd’s named Phil.  Phil was carving the skin off a plant with his pocketknife and handed it to us to try.  Sugarcane.  Delicious.

Phil also gave the boys a couple of wild bush cucumbers, which they argued over and devoured with some salt while playing in the pool with Todd’s daughter and her cousin.  We thanked the men with a drink and spent the next hour or so chatting on beanbags on the grass, hearing how they came to be here and what life was like as the sky grew darker and rumbled overhead.   It could not have been a more enjoyable day, in my book.

For dinner, Sam and I took Todd's advice and ordered the kokoda, a raw fish salad that is the Fijian take on ceviche.  Made with lemon juice and coconut cream, it was absolutely delicious.  Kenyon fell asleep with his head on Sam's lap right there at the table, and we all headed to bed early after a fantastic first day.

Sadly, we leave in the morning, but we're looking forward to what awaits us at our village stay in Namatakula.