This was the spot-on feedback I received from one of my friends in a response to my last entry. It's been a couple of weeks since my last post. Two weeks filled with anxiety bordering on angst. Packed with vague information about my assignment. Lots of time for me to pass my judgement on the (in)ability of the Peace Corps to do their job correctly and efficiently.
Today (July 8th) we were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers. Hitherto referred to as Peace Corps Volunteer Trainees (PCVL), we are now volunteers. The US Ambassador to Fiji and the Fijian Minster of Education came to Nadave to participate in the ceremony, along with our host families - in all a crowd of about 150 people including staff. We actually do raise out right hands and repeat an oath. We sing the national anthem. The Fijians sing their national anthem. Then we climb into various moving vehicles (cars, buses, boats, and/or planes depending on our assignment location) and depart for our sites for the next two years.
So those are the parenthetical notations of this particular entry. I suspect it will take some time to fill in the blanks of the two weeks. I am lying in bed in my new place, first night here after a fairly long day of ceremony and travel and a paucity of food. My last communique was a fair downer in respect to my expectations and such. Don't know how this will turn out yet.
The village I have been sent to (Nakubuta) is very small - 70-90 people depending on who you talk to in the village. The guy who requested that Peace Corps come to the village died back in December and Peace Corps didn't know that (hence their "inability" - in truth {my opinion, heehee} PC didn't do their homework in my village). I received a list from my village counterpart on Tuesday with the "projects" the village wants - footpaths, flush toilets for some of the homes, a computer and supplies for the school, and a new community hall. All of these projects require lots of money, which is difficult to come by in Fiji. My counterpart is an 18 year old girl who speaks very little english. I have already gone on ad nauseam re: my shortcomings in the Fijian language. So, since the stakeholder was dead, and it's a really small village with a list of really expensive things they supposedly want, I really don't know what to expect.
My fears were, in order, that no one would speak passable english and that I wouldn't be able to at least find a translator for doing community meetings. The rumors of my housing were a little scary - scant details and not totally clear about water and electricity. I heard they might not be ready for me. I was somewhat anticipating that they would expect me to come and "fix" things (one of the main PC missions is capacity building, not "gifting").
And there is the whole "2 year" thing looming.
We got off the bus in Sigatoka. Sigatoka is a big (for Fiji - 10,000 people) tourist town on the coral coast. There are several resorts in the 85 miles between Suva (the Southeast coast) and Sigatoka (the Southwest coast). Sigatoka is the tourist hub for the resorts. You can book tours there. There are a lot of Aussies roaming around. There are numerous stores, both for locals and for tourists. There is the ever-present outdoor produce market. The longest river runs through town. As I learn more, I will share more of what I learn about Sigatoka. So anyway, we (my counterpart - the 18 year old girl and I) got off the bus and caught a cab to go to the village. Nakabuta is about 2 miles from town, inland from the ocean. It reminds me of - get this, cause it's kind of weird - California here. Rolling foothills. Dry grass on said hills. I could swear the fog came in last night because it actually was cold (high 50's?). Not humid at all. This part of the country is called the Salad Bowl because of the variety of produce that grows here. Of course, we are in cool dry season now. Talk to me in January and we'll see what the weather is like.
Back to the village. I arrived and did my sevusevu, a ceremony where I present Yagona (the plant that cava, or grog, comes from) to the Toro ni Koro (head of the village - not the Chief of the village - I'm still a little unclear on the hierarchy). His name is Sailosi and he speaks next to no English - about the same amount of English that I speak Fijian. I was told my bure (house) wasn't ready. Small rumblings in my panic nodes were beginning to build at this point. I am flashing forward to no english, no house, going to have to bail, how do I do that - bad free association happening in my brain.
Then one of the women explained that my bure would be ready by 7:30 that night. A small, measured amount of relief hits. Remember, this bure is where I will live for 2 years, so this is not a small deal. We sit for about an hour, trying to converse in broken language when one of the village kids comes by and says "touch rugby". I say "io" (yes). But first we must have tea. Tea is what they drink when they aren't drinking grog. And tea is always served with some sort of bread product. And it's always served hot, even when it's 163 degrees with 127% humidity. Fortunately, it was a pleasant mid-70's day with virtually no humidity. We play touch rugby. I play in my reef shoes and step on a very pointed rock and bruise the hell out of my arch. But I don't embarrass myself, I score a couple of times and I make them laugh.
Laughter is the key, literally in Fiji. As long as they are laughing with, near and/or at you, then you will do fine here. Fortunately, I have the ability to get people to laugh, usually at me, and it opens doors really quickly. The kids see you very quickly this way. The women see you very quickly this way. And the men aren't quite sure what to think. But the fact I can still run pretty well for an old guy and I am competitive (Fijians are very competitive) bodes well for me with the men. So the first impression in the village went well I think and I hope . . .
Finally, it is time for me to see my bure, but first a little history on the village of Nakabuta.
Nakabuta currently has one source of income - pottery. The women hand make pottery and sell it to tourists who come to the village. That's it. The men farm, but they don't sell at the market. They farm to feed the families (I think the whole village is related). It is a very financially poor (even by Fijian standards) village. Several years ago (my guess, from the looks), someone (don't know who yet) built 5 small bures to be marketed and used as backpacking hostels for tourists. A really good idea, and I'm not sure yet why it didn't work, but evidently it didn't (more on this to come).
I'm going to live in one of those bures. The others are in various stages of decay and dissaray. I have electricity and running water (huge knot of tension spasms and exits my body and mind). It is small - I haven't measured yet, but my guess is 15 x 15 (I measured. It's 11 x 15). It's a traditional bure, meaning thatch hut, straw roof - hope the big bad wolf doesn't come by a huffin' and a puffin'. It is furnished with arguably the most uncomfortable bed known (slats covered by a very thin foam mattress). I didn't sleep much last night between that and the cold - I mean WTF? Cold?. This will be remedied today by the purchase of a sheet of plywood or a thicker mattress if i can find one as well as a blanket. One small cabinet for clothes. No stove. One very small bathroom sink. There are photos attached.
But, the bottom line is that it is extremely workable. This I can do. I can figure out the kitchen part. I can figure out the bed and the furnishings and the whatever. I am actually pretty happy about the whole thing.
The last big knot of anxiety has to do with the work. What can I possibly do to help these people? This remains to be seen, and it is of course, ultimately up to the village what they want to do. They don't really need footpaths in the village. But they may want them. They need to refurbish the current community hall, they don't need a new one. Don't know yet about the flush toilets or the school stuff, but I'll find out. But the bures are a potential source for income for the village if they want to pay for the other things they want. And a kiln is definitely a possibility to cure the pottery. And the idea of a kickwheel is something that will be floated, though they may wish to remain a traditional hand-made pottery village.
So, what the hell does this all mean? I don't know. There's a woman who I used to see at yoga in Hanalei that has a tattoo that I wanted to get but didn't before I left. I love it and she graciously allowed a relative stranger to take a picture of it:
The games I play in my head are just as convoluted and silly as ever. I think I have a grip. Or I think I know what to expect. A glimpse or an outline is given and I feverishly work to fill in the blanks, to read between the lines that haven't even been written yet in order to produce some "thing" that I will find acceptable - like I know what would be acceptable to me. What I keep finding is that I have the capacity to redefine what acceptable means. Ultimately, I think it means I'm redefining what important means to me, in the context of where I am and what I am doing. Last night, we had a pretty serious thunderstorm and it rained like crazy. I have a small waterfall in, and a flood running through, my little house. Within about a 2 hour period I went from "this is unacceptable" to "I have to go into town tomorrow to get some tarps and towels" to deal with the inevitable rain in Fiji.
This village has plenty of opportunity for me to do what I came here to do. Again, it's just different than how I would have designed "it". What the last few years have taught me is that if I were to design "it", I would often shortchange myself, or the experience I have. I keep forgetting that notion on the front end of any given opportunity, because I think I know better - like I ever have? Perhaps this is the nature of faith. I have never really had faith. It's a concept that I wanted defined before I entertained it. You know, so I would know what I'm getting into.
The next chance I have to get the tattoo, I will - perhaps across my forehead . . .
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