A night in Suva... (8/7/06)

Amy and I went to Suva on Sunday to transport and process samples (8/6/06). I thought we’d get out of going to church this time. Thanks to Kirk and Terry, we were “lucky enough” to get to sit through church again and have lunch at the Chief’s house. Okay, so it’s not all THAT bad… usually. But, this time I was not happy with the Chief. After my initial resentment, I realized his behavior was cultural. I’m just not used to being treated with such little respect. When we got to his house after church, I walked in to the normal kava circle. I sat down behind him and to his left, which is where I’m supposed to sit. However, this time, he told me to “go in the kitchen and help with the cooking” in a very demeaning and gruff manner. He said, “No kava for you today.” I was peeved, so I said, “Fine! I don’t want kava anyway.” Amy and I went in the kitchen and Una said, “No, no. You go back and sit in the house.” We went back into the house and told the chief that Una didn’t want any help. He said, “You go back in there and tell her to give you something to do!”, like he was scolding a dog for peeing on the floor. I said, “I am no man’s servant!”… in my head. Grrrrrr! I think Kenyi and Una could tell I was livid. There was practically smoke coming out of my ears. I fumed for a while, then Kirk, Terry, Amy and I ate lunch. Terry told me that it was very big of me not to complain. I told him that I was complaining; he just couldn’t hear me. (Amy got the brunt of it). The reason the chief acted that way was because it was a very formal kava ceremony. They brought out the fanciest bowl, the men were not allowed to attend unless they were wearing a sulu and the talk was business and politics. Women are usually not even allowed in the room during one of these ceremonies. So… okay, I understand. But, I still resent being talked to like I’m expected to be subservient.
Needless to say, I was eager to leave and get to Suva. Once in Suva, however, I was miserable. The South Seas Private Hotel, where we stayed for one night, was terrible. The Lonely Planet guide described it as “reminiscent of a 1930’s asylum.” That’s exactly what it was like. The rooms were long and narrow with sterile, white cement walls. There were two plastic, Tinker Toy twin beds in a head to toe orientation (because the rooms were so long and narrow). Amy’s side of the room had a fan, mine had the window. Amy’s side had a small window above the door to the hallway through which a very bright light blinded her all night. My side had a window to the outside that let in noise from the street and a gazillion mosquitoes. The noise on the street turned out to be prostitutes. The mosquitoes turned out to be mutant. We weren’t allowed to use mosquito nets, mosquito coils or candles due to fire hazard, but I’m not exactly sure what part of the cement structure was in danger of catching on fire. So, I sprayed my bed and myself down with the highest grade DEET bug spray that I could find. I still woke up, from the approximately 2 hours of sleep that I got, with mountainous bug bites. Also, my pillow smelled like rotten milk and felt like it was stuffed with rat bedding. My one, tiny blanket smelled like B.O. There was only one bathroom on the whole floor and there was no hot water. If anyone reading this blog decides to go to Suva, Fiji… I recommend NOT staying in the South Seas Private Hotel.
The next day, I was happy to check out. We lugged all of our stuff to USP for a long day of work in the lab. What would normally take me 3 hours took 7 hours. It’s too complicated to go in to details. Needless to say, Amy and I didn’t leave Suva until 6:00 pm. We told Akisi we’d be back in time for dinner. Suva is nearly 2 hours from Tagaqe. We ended up stopping in Pacific Harbor, which is half way to Tagaqe, for dinner… we couldn’t wait. It was an excellent dinner with really good pineapple & rum drinks. When we tried to get a cab later, everyone seemed to think we were crazy. “It’s too late for a cab!” Huh? It wasn’t even 9:00 pm. After a long lecture, the lady at the restaurant called a friend for a “favor”. Of course, that meant we got reamed for the taxi ride to Tagaqe. Whatever. I was just glad to be back. I actually missed my little foam mattress bed! Akisi wasn’t happy with us for missing dinner and we got a lecture from her too. Dang! I just can’t win for losing. I’m beginning to think that the gods of Fiji are against me. Maybe they’re angry that I’m out on the reef chopping up their coral. Maybe it’s like Hawaii where you’re cursed if you remove a piece of lava from the island. I’m not sure, but Amy feels the same way. She has, like me, developed a love/hate relationship with Fiji. I really do love it. But, I also really do hate it.

Here’s another story to elaborate. Amy and I went snorkeling in the channel the other day. I popped up to see where Amy was and noticed some guy going through our stuff on the beach. I yelled at him, “Kua! Eh, Kua!! Tabu! Tabu!”, which means “stop” or “don’t that’s wrong”. He waved at me and kept going through our stuff. I was pretty much helpless since I was way out in the water. Anyway, he ended up not taking anything. But just before we left for Suva, we went back to the same spot. This time we hid our stuff in the bush behind a tree. Of course, it was gone when we got done snorkeling. I only lost a mesh bag, but Amy lost her dive knife, a pair of sunglasses, two shirts, and a really nice back-pack gear bag. Bummer. I guess we should have learned our lesson though, right? In addition, someone stole my sledge hammer right off our front porch! It’s not that it was expensive or irreplaceable, it just happened to be stolen the night before I had a huge collection day. It was incredibly inconvenient. Is someone trying to send me a message? Oh yeah, and the other night the guys next door had a party. They apparently decided to kick some guy out at three o’clock in the morning. He stumbled past our house screaming curses at them in Fijian. He was beyond three sheets to the wind. I was furious. Let me put it this way, if I had the power, I would have burnt him to the last ash with a terrible bolt of lightening. Instead, I stormed outside and screamed at him in a mixture of English and Fijian. I think “the girls” (Kenyi and Akisi) were a little shocked at my action. I don’t think they’re used to standing up for themselves. I would have done the same thing in the U.S., except I would have also threatened to call the police. Next time, I’ll threaten to call the Chief. He said he would have come over and punched the guy down for me. Okee-dokie then!