When we first learned we'd be moving to Fiji, we started to spread the word. At least half the people we told assumed we were going to Japan. No, we insisted, it's in the Pacific, but it's not Japan. When we think back on it now, about all we DID know about Fiji was that it wasn't in Japan.
Three years and countless mild cases of island fever later, we can tell you what Fiji is. The travel brochures describe it as a land of wide beaches and wide smiles. That's true. But the beaches sometimes conceal stonefish whose sting can kill. And the smiles? Well, they sometimes hide their own poisonous surprises, but isn't that true everywhere?
Historically, the Fiji Islands are thought to have been first inhabited 8,000 to 10,000 years ago. The first European sightings were in the mid-17th century by the explorers Abel Tasman (who gives his name to Tasmania) and Capt. James Cook. But the first European to actually chart the islands was Capt. Bligh, of Mutiny on the Bounty fame. History buffs will remember that following that famous mutiny in 1749, Bligh and his men were set adrift in a lifeboat by Fletcher Christian and the mutineers. Bligh had set a course for the Dutch settlement of Timor and had no choice but to navigate through the channels of the dreaded Cannibal Isles, as "Feejee" was then known. Despite being chased by two large war canoes, intent on placing Bligh and company on the evening menu, the captain managed to make detailed drawings and charts of the islands and channels which were later to prove surprisingly accurate. The channel between the two major islands of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu still bears his name, Bligh Water. In 1874, during the reign of the great Fijian chief, Ratu Cakobau, Fiji was ceded to Great Britain and became a British colony. It was under British rule, in 1879, that the first Indian immigrants were brought to Fiji to work the sugar cane fields. They came as indentured workers but soon paid off their debt and then proceeded to bring their families over to settle permanently on these islands. They now account for approximately 47% of the population as opposed to the native Fijians' 49%. The remainder of the population is mainly of European and Chinese descent or mixed heritage. During World War II, Fiji was very important in winning battles in the South Pacific against the Japanese. True to their warlike ancestry, Fijians proved to be fierce fighters. They also proved to be fiercely loyal to their British and American commanders. Strong friendships and alliances were formed between American and Fijian soldiers during these years, and that affection for America and Americans remains to this day. It was not until 1970 that Fiji became an independent nation. The dominance of the Indo-Fijian community in the Fijian economy, and eventually the government, led to two bloodless coups in 1987 by the followers of Lt. Col. Sitiveni Rabuka, the 3rd highest ranking officer in the Fijian Army. That same year, he named two revered traditional chiefs to lead the country: Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau was President, and Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara was Prime Minister. When legislative elections were held in 1992, Rabuka cobbled together a coalition and became Prime Minister. The ailing President Ganilau passed away in 1994 and was succeeded by Ratu Mara. Rabuka has made it clear that native Fijians will never again relinquish the reins of government to the Indo-Fijians. Although Fiji is certainly not a democracy in the sense that we as Americans would define it, neither is it a dictatorship or military regime, and citizens of Fiji, including Indo-Fijians, enjoy the relative freedom to express themselves as they wish. Today, there exists an uneasy peace between the two factions. Although the Indo-Fijians are represented in Parliament and there exists no blatant discrimination or ill-treatment of Indians, the constitution decrees that only native Fijians can own land and they will always hold their majority in government.
If you visit the Fiji that tourists come to see, you'll probably not even see the capital of Suva unless you make a concerted effort to do so. The Queen's Highway, which runs along the southern "Gold Coast" of the main island Viti Levu, is a good, well-paved road, although still dangerous because of its winding nature, not to mention the propensity of the natives to use it as a sidewalk and the resident animals to use it as grazing land. The American Embassy in Suva has a rule that the road can not be traveled by the American diplomatic community after nightfall. The rule came into effect after the death of the Japanese Ambassador whose car ran off the road when he tried to avoid hitting a farm animal. It's a good three-hour drive from Nadi to Suva. We suspect, though, that more than one tourist driving it on their own today would turn around halfway there and head back to Nadi. During the hurricane of 1993, the bridge at Sigatoka was washed out and temporarily replaced by one constructed of wooden beams supported on earthen berms. Driving across the one-lane structure is harrowing at best. You drive on two planks spaced as wide as your car's tires and between and to the sides of these, you're looking down at the rushing river running several tens of feet below. The "temporary" bridge was still there when we left Fiji in the spring of 1995. No, as a tourist, you'll probably find yourself in Nadi on the far western coast, or offshore on one of the island resorts scattered among the 300-plus inhabited islands that make up this nation of 750,000 people. The swanky resorts, like Turtle Island in the Yasawas, were way out of our price league -- upwards of $1,000 per day -- and geared towards celebrities who value privacy. No photos of those, since we never even got near one. But let us show you a couple in the more affordable category.
First and foremost, there's the Sheraton on Denarau Island in Nadi ( pronounced Non-dee ), separated from the mainland by about eight inches of water so that we didn't even know we were on an island until our third visit. This is far and away the nicest resort on the big island, and the only one that stands up to the expectations of European and American clientele. The services are first class and consistent (consistency is rare in Fiji). The stretch of beach behind the resort is beautifully pristine -- there's even a volleyball net on the beach for the active set. There's a three-star restaurant, the Ports O' Call, and a professional 18-hole golf course. It was David's favorite because they were ultra kid-friendly. The staff looked out for children like they were their own -- played with them, kept them out of trouble in the ocean, provided them with water sports equipment from the "sports hut", and generally displayed more patience and good humor than we knew existed in the hospitality trade. We always looked forward to our stays at the Sheraton, and tried to plan at least two visits a year.
A bit downscale and closer to our home in Suva was the hotel at Pacific Harbor. The food was lousy, the rooms were musty, but the ocean was inviting and the drive from Suva was less than an hour. It was our closest unpolluted beach, and as such we forgave it any small defects. There's a very nice community in Pacific Harbor with its own post office and police force. It's where many rich Americans and Europeans keep winter homes. The marina there is always full of large, expensive yachts. Many of the people who work in Suva also live in Pacific Harbor, choosing to make the daily commute rather than live in Suva. There is a shopping complex at Pacific Harbor which includes a restaurant called The Treetops. It resembles a set out of the Disney movie, "The Swiss Family Robinson". We can't comment on the food, but the setting is certainly serene.They also have a fairly nice 18-hole golf course in Pacific Harbor.
Coming home to the capital, Suva, was almost always the same. As we approached on the coast highway, it would inevitably grow cloudy and damp. As we climbed the hill to our suburb, the raindrops would begin to appear on our windshield and David would proclaim, "Welcome to Suva!". That was about the only perceptible change in the Suva weather, the rain. Sometimes it would rain down so hard and heavy on the tin roofs of the houses -- ours included -- that all conversation would have to come to a standstill and people resorted to slightly goofy broad smiles until they could resume normal social discourse. Like almost all capital cities around the world, the climate was not the attraction that brought the seat of the country's power to Suva. For Suva, it was a natural deep-water harbor, the best in the South Pacific, without which the Allies in World War II could not have won the Battle of the Coral Sea. We wouldn't want you to think that the weather is always bad, though. On one of the many nice, warm, clear days, you can take a ride in a replica of the ancient outrigger canoe called a drua, squint into the sun and see Suva as a little jewel of a city nestled in a nook of the island. The drua was built by an American who came to Fiji to learn the disappearing art of building the huge canoes from the massive trunks of the vesi trees. Vesi is a very dark and dense native wood that is excellent for carving and shaping, though murder on sharp tools. It is ideal for the construction of the drua because it is so dense as to make it virtually waterproof. Vesi was also used -- and is still used -- to carve the ceremonial bowls which hold the yaqona. Every detail of the replica drua -- the sail with its tall mast and rigging, the shelter with its traditional thatched roof, the egg cowrie shells which adorn the bow, even the woven storage baskets hanging from the shelter walls -- was meticulously copied from the original. The Fiji Museum acquired the drua when the American builder departed Fiji. You board the drua at Lami Bay, a few minutes out of Suva on the Queen's Highway. There are some gorgeous views in and around the bay. One particularly striking feature on the horizon is a promontory known as Joske's Thumb. It's actually a volcanic plug from a now extinct volcano. The plugs are formed when the sides of the volcano erode away leaving only the hardened lava plug at the core.
Think for a minute about the image you have of a South Pacific island. It probably includes trade winds that keep the temperature balmy and the humidity low. Now edit your image to erase the trade winds, which we didn't have in Suva. Raise the temperature and the humidity, paint everything with a light coat of mildew, and you basically have a pretty accurate picture.
In case this sounds off-putting, believe me when I tell you it doesn't faze the local citizenry. Straight-backed, broad-shouldered skyscrapers of men wear woolen uniform jackets in the military and the police -- along with pointed white skirts they call sulus. Sulus are also the preferred form of dress for the average Fijian. There are informal, brightly-colored sulus and even gray-flannel and pin-striped sulus to wear with suit coat and tie. Women and men sit cross-legged in the sun for hours during ceremonies of mourning or welcome, wearing clothes made out of beaten bark which are about as comfortable as they sound. Just for good measure, they tie folded mats around their waists and then sit down. They do all this without complaining and -- even more impressively -- without sweating visibly. They drink a concoction called yaqona, or kava, that's made of pepper plant root mixed with water until it looks like a mud puddle. Suffice to say that the taste takes some getting used to. It makes the uninitiated wince, then shiver, then go numb from about the lips to the back of the tongue. As you continue to drink, by passing a coconut shell around, the numbness spreads throughout the body. It's a mildly intoxicating drink though not hallucinatory. The DEA would probably put it on the illegal drug list if they ever found out about it. At the moment, you can buy it in the duty-free shop to bring home and brew up for friends who drop over to watch the Super Bowl, say, or the World Series. We've even received e-mail messages over the Internet offering kava for sale. Our irreverence notwithstanding, the yaqona ceremony is deeply entrenched in the Fijian cultural history, and devotion to the brew is not likely to change. All the customs of the Fijians' ancestors are meticulously passed on to succeeding generations: dances, called mekes; conch-blowing; thatching of the traditional bures; and firewalking on white-hot stones.
Cultural preservation is not only important to the indigenous Fijians, but is also shared by the Indo-Fijians. The Hindu temple in Nadi is one of the most visible and beautiful symbols of loyalty to the culture of a homeland most of them have never even seen.
As you approach downtown Suva via the palm-lined Queen Elizabeth Drive, which skirts the harbor to become Victoria Parade in the city, you enter a section of the drive resembling a promenade, lined with tall, grand old ivi trees (Tahitian chestnut) which mark the grounds of the President's estate. One of the legacies of the colonizing British is the grand colonial palace that is the President's House (formerly the British Governor General's residence). The guard at the gate seems unperturbed by the heat, even in his high-necked red uniform jacket. Beside the President's House are Thurston Gardens, a beautifully planted public park that is the site of the Fiji Museum. The brightly painted gazebo and clock tower dominate the garden's landscape, but a walk in any direction will reveal examples of Fiji's unusual flora. The Fiji Museum has an interesting and diverse collection including a wide selection of cannibal forks and the rudder of the H.M.S. Bounty. A series of sturdy government buildings, built on a landfill adjacent to the harbor, flank Albert Park which, with its parade grounds and bleachers, is the scene of many government functions and ceremonies. When not being used for government functions, it's a popular place for organized football (what we call soccer) matches. The principal feature of the concrete Government Building is the clock tower. Unfortunately, the clock doesn't work and the building is sorely in need of a good steam cleaning. Across the street is another sign of the British influence -- the once elegant Grand Pacific Hotel. This proud old white colonial structure now stands derelict and seems destined never to return to the glory it enjoyed in its heyday, when Somerset Maugham sipped rum drinks in his white suit and Panama straw hat under the whirling fans on the broad veranda overlooking the harbor. The hotel has been bought by a group of investors and is scheduled to be renovated by a reputable and qualified architectural firm in Suva. We spoke to the owner and chief architect of the firm and even saw the proposed plans. They are ambitious, but somehow we just don't expect it will happen...at least not in the form that the architect envisions. It's too bad. It was during its heyday that Suva was called "the most cosmopolitan city in the South Pacific", and was even referred to as "the Paris of the South Pacific". Next to the Grand Pacific is the TraveLodge, now the most popular place to stay while in Suva. It's adequate, and not much more. It's also very expensive. All of these buildings and parks -- and all of downtown Suva, actually -- are protected by a seawall to prevent the repeated floodings of yesteryear.
As you enter the main street of downtown, Victoria Parade, you're greeted with a riot of color, ironic since traditional Fijian arts and crafts and clothing and design were all in shades of black and brown. This lack of color in the arts and crafts of a tropical island people is unique, we believe, to the South Pacific. They are surrounded, literally bombarded, by flora and fauna that mirror every color in the rainbow, and yet their art remains uninfluenced by it. But what the the indigenous Fijians lack in color choice, the Indian influence more that makes up for (remember the temple in Nadi?). Perhaps the gaudiest of buildings is the old Regal Theatre, in hot pink with fuchsia trim. We're sorry that the only photo we have of the Regal is in black and white. Appropriately sedate are the Suva Public Library (a Carnegie library) and the old Methodist Church where President Rabuka is a member and, as a lay minister, sometimes delivered the sermon. On Renwick Street, which runs parallel to Victoria Parade, you'll find the old Metropole Hotel, one of the oldest buildings in Suva. Unfortunately, the interior is now rather seedy and the clientele are more apt to frequent the hotel bar rather than the accommodations. Proceeding down either Renwick or Victoria Parade will bring you to the Creek, a man-made canal which cuts across the city. On one side of the canal is the once elegant colonnade of the venerable old Morris-Hedstrom Company building. On the other side of the canal is a tree-lined walkway with benches to sit and watch the world go by. Sadly, the Creek is so polluted now that you might just see anything float by. For an experience that assails all the senses -- sight, sound, smell and touch -- don't miss the Suva Market. A bustling, open-air market under a tin roof, the market is row after row of stalls, displaying every exotic fruit and vegetable and flower available in Fiji. The vendors are multi-racial and all seem to really enjoy their work. They smile broadly and try to outdo their neighbor in enticing the browsing customers to "take a look". The impromptu stalls set up on the sidewalks around the market can be just as colorful -- and the vendors just as insistent that theirs is the best bargain.
No word picture of Fiji would be complete without cataloguing some of the unusual flora and fauna, rather dismal nomenclature for what are some of the most fetching visions in the world. After all, this is where orchids grow everywhere, like wild flowers in the U.S. The ground is so fertile that you can throw out your edible garbage on the ground and, days later, find something growing there. We all know palms, for instance, but the variety in Fiji is endless, almost otherworldly. The mangrove swamps teem with life and play an important part in the ecology of the island. They are at risk now because of the growth of industry in Fiji, which brings with it industrial pollution. And if the mangroves are in danger, then so are the reefs. There is a type of poletree which grows in Fiji that is apt to make you think that the photo has been set up or doctored. Another tree looks dead, its branches covered with a moss or lichen that resembles the felt on reindeer's antlers. Yet when it blooms, the beauty of the blossom will take your breath away and the perfumed fragrance literally wafts through the air. The tropical forests are lush and green with dramatic plantlife varieties, like the banyan with its strange system of exposed roots. As for fauna, giant fruit bats, or flying foxes, with wing spans approaching three feet, hang upside down from branches and slurp fruit until they're sated, then take to the air with great flesh-flapping sounds. They fly singly at dusk, flapping their giant wings and looking for all the world like geese in flight. Geckos, or tropical lizards, have the run of every house and range in size from less than an inch to the old-timers that can reach up to six inches. Mind you, this is mostly tail, which they can detach at will and leave squirming on the ground while they make their escape -- and yes, it does grow back. This feature proved invaluable to many geckos that were set upon by our cats, Scruffy and Kiri -- outdoor Fiji-born felines who would eat anything that had the misfortune to cross their path. The records for size, though, were left to the giant millipedes, bat-sized moths and mouse-sized rhinoceros beetles. The millipedes could reach lengths of a foot or more. Their bite was poisonous and they would climb the trees, usually the palm, prowling for food. The food was in the form of whatever they happened upon: insects, small birds, bird eggs. We always worried that one would someday drop out of a tree and so, almost unconsciously, avoided walking under them. Of course there was no way to avoid those that we found on the floor of the shower, having crawled through the pipe and up through the drain, or those that crawled under the door to lie in the carpet. Needless to say, we quickly learned to keep our eyes peeled before stepping in to take our showers. The large orange-brown moths would show up some mornings on the walls of our open garage. They would fly in seeking the security light that we kept on all night and would fly off the following day when the sun reached the walls to warm them up. If you surprised one before then, it began to vibrate fiercely, even as you held it in your hand -- and it was a handful -- trying to get its metabolism up to the point that it could fly. The rhinoceros beetles could also be found some mornings in the garage, lying on their backs, usually dead, sometimes half-eaten (you remember Kiri and Scruffy). The beetles use their horn to vie with other beetles for territory and females. They butt heads with the intention of turning their opponent on to its back. Once on their backs, they are unable to right themselves and soon die. Occasionally, though, you'd find one still alive. It was amazing how strong they were -- you couldn't keep one in your hand. It would just pry your fingers apart, like a mini-bulldozer. The beetles are a major threat to the island's coconut crop and were thought to have been eradicated at one time but, if our garage floor was any indication, they're making a strong comeback.
You know what Fiji is best at? Being a refuge from the rest of the world. Can you imagine any more idyllic setting for a child to spend some crucial, formative years (or the inner child, for that matter)? Our grandson David lived mostly shoeless and shirtless, nearly without TV, and almost without danger from anyone or anything, unless you count head lice and ringworm. He's now got video games and CD's and baseball and 96 channels on cable. You know what? He still hankers for Fiji, for the days when he played with his cats and played outside in the warm rain and found lots of pleasures in the simple things. He spent a part of his childhood the way our parents did in the early part of this century. For that, Fiji, we love you -- and we'll miss you.
