Tribewanted: Vorovoro

Tuesday dawned hot and sultry, a day of celebrations. Not only was it the usual day for new tribe members to present sevusevu to Tui Mali, it was also the great man’s 65th birthday – a fact he had tried to keep quiet. Va whipped up a majestic cake decorated with frangipani flowers, whilst Ross (a recently arrived tribie) practised his birthday greeting to Tui Mali in Fijian… only to be told by Va that he would, in fact, be wishing him a ‘Happy flour and pepper’. He reverted to English!

As well as a day of Fijian celebrations, it was also the Hindu holiday of Diwali – the festival of light. Hindu families across the globe traditionally prepare for Diwali by spring cleaning their house and surroundings, in the hope that Lakshmi (goddess of wealth and prosperity) will bless them with a year of good fortune when she arrives at their homes. We followed suit on the island by doing a sweep of the village and collecting up rubbish – lollipop wrappers being the main culprit. It was agreed in our morning meeting that we will re-introduce the ‘ticketed morning meeting’. All that wish to enter must come armed with a piece of litter!

After our sevusevu ceremony, grog and cake, and a few stories around the mat, we all piled in to the boats and headed off to Labasa to celebrate Diwali, Indo-Fijian style. AJ, the owner of the taxi firm we use, had very generously invited the whole tribe to celebrate by joining a feast at his familly home. As we drove through the streets of Labasa in taxi convoy it was hard to believe we were in Fiji, as opposed to America during Halloween or the UK at Christmas. Spectacular fairy lights and impressive neon displays competed from every veranda and garden, as fireworks exploded across the skyline… and the street!

There was an air of excitement amongst the tribe, a feeling of anticipation and glee to be on ‘a night out’ wearing our Sunday best. When we arrived at AJ’s we sat on the mat-covered floor on the veranda, much as we have at Tui Mali’s house. But there was a distinct difference due to the abundant sounds and smells of India – the streamers, the shrines to gurus and family members, the candles, the chalked lotus flowers on the floor, the ladies resplendant in their sparkling saris. Amy, Ben and I all commented on the strange sensation that we had, at once, been transported back to India.

And then came the moment that remided us that this was, quite clearly, Fijian India. The defining act that illustrated so well the merging of two beatufil cultures came as AJ, our Indian friend, prepared the grog mix for us to share! And this was no namby pamby mix either. Grog faces and grimaces were shared as we drank from our individual ceramic bilos, served from a washing up bowl!

A feast of delicious sweet and spiced treats and fried savoury pastries was served. We all filled up, our tastebuds delighted to be sampling different flavours. After a short break, the main course arrived, much to our surprise having all stuffed our faces on what we’d presumed was the main affair. Authentic chana dahl, vegetable rice, and purees were eaten by hand, washed down with squash and pop. I felt myself slipping in to a sugary groggy slumber. AJ’s wife, mother, and extended family had begun preparing the food several days beforehand, and we were priviledged to be there to share it with his friends and family.

As we rested on the mats the children began our fireworks display, and as they held lit fireworks in their hands and threw firecrackers at each other I recalled, with some anxiety, the Bonfire Night health and safety videos of the 1980s!

After a fond farewell most of the tribe headed back to Vorovoro for their last night, as we were saying goodbye to two thirds of the tribe on Wednesday morning. I was heading off to Savusavu early the following morning for a few days ‘holiday’ before heading back to November chiefdom, so I stayed in Labasa. Staying, too, was Sustainability Ben who had a meeting with AJ the following morning to discuss biodiesel (see Ben’s Hammock Society Interview for more info). Ben and I decided to capitalise on our night in the big smoke so headed out to sample Labasa’s nightlife.

The two bars we knew of were already closed, but luck led us to a dark, barred hole in the wall at the end of the deserted highstreet. The painted wall behind welcomed us to ‘The Baby Dragon Niteclub’, and after paying entrance to a man in a hidden cage we headed up two flights of stairs with some trepidation. Once through the heavy doors at the top of the stairs, we were greeted by the seven existing patrons of the Baby Dragon, which resembled a very dark, smokey youth or social club. Having established that gin and tonics were not on the menu, we settled down at a plastic-coated booth with a couple of beers and tried to have a shouted conversation over the booming music and compared tales of unusual foreign nightclubs.

A short while later a Fijian gentlemen approached and asked if we’d like to join him and his friends for the evening. Of course, we accepted, and were amazed by our second ‘grog’ experience of the evening. Amongst the group of men one had adopted the role of server, and would pour beer from a large bottle of Fiji Bitter in to a big shot glass. With one hand behind his back he would approach one of his friends who would down the drink in one, as if drinking from a bilo, and return the glass. He made his way around the group (including us, depsite the fact we were already armed with beers) before settling down for a chat before the next ‘talo’! After several servings from the communal ‘tanoa’ of bitter and some Fijian-style bopping, we said our goodnights and returned to the air-conditioned, hot-watered, firm-mattressed sanctuary of the Grand Eastern to close the curtain on a wonderfully surreal evening…..