"I am Fijian!"

Next door to Samoa are the islands of Fiji, arguably the most well known islands of the Pacific, most likely because of the famous Fiji water (which, surprisingly, is actually made in Fiji).

Early Sunday morning, I arrived in Samoa after a week on the main island of Viti Levu, Fiji. Although Viti Levu lies only 700 miles east of ‘Upolu, the culture, language, economy, government, and society couldn’t be much different. SIT brought us to Fiji as a way of comparing Pacific nations. Fiji, like Samoa, is an independent Pacific state, but has a much different history than its neighbor. Fiji is by far the most urbanized of any Pacific society and has the wealth and poverty to prove it. It was an incredible experience, like this whole trip, and I was thrilled to finally see the home of all my Fijian friends…they weren’t kidding when they said Fiji was more developed than Samoa.

Unlike Samoa, Fiji is an ethnically diverse society with indigenous Fijians, Indo-Fijians, Chinese-Fijians, and a handful of pālagi. It was the first time I didn’t feel entirely out of place due to the fact that English is spoken by almost everyone. With a mix of ethnicities comes the necessity of a common language, so even young children are able to speak some English. My pālagi identity wasn’t so forefront either, where I could walk around without being completely regarded as an obvious foreigner).

This ethnic diversity, similar to the diversity of Americans, has created problem throughout Fijian history. Fiji was once a British colony and because of its excellent farming lands, the British brought in Indians as indentured labor to work in sugarcane fields. Between the years of 1879 and 1916, an average of 20,000 Indians were brought into Fiji. The British governor at the time refused any intermingling between Indians and the indigenous Fijians, lighting a flame beneath a problem that persists to this day. Some Indians, when their contracts were up, stayed in Fiji and their families have continued to live in the same towns as their ancestors. Through the generations, they generated a new dialect of their Hindi language, dropped some Indians customs while retaining others, and became what are now known as Indo-Fijians.

As the British governor discouraged interactions between indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians, many regions and careers became characteristic of one group or the other. As with most cases of social separation, tension arose between the groups as stereotypes developed. This tension, along with many other complex governmental circumstances, created a platform for the military coup of 1987, when indigenous Fijian Sitiveni Rabuka took control of Fiji with military force to back him up in order to instill governmental policies in favor of indigenous Fijians. In 2000, when Indo-Fijian Mahendra Chaudhry was elected as prime minister, another coup erupted with indigenous Fijian George Speight demanding that Chaudhry step down. The most recent coup of 2006 put the current prime minister, indigenous Fijian Commodore Josaia Voreqe (Frank) Bainimarama, in power. All of these coups have stemmed from the same issue, but are carried out in drastically similar ways. Because Fiji is currently under control by the military (and Frank), it has lost allegiance with many superpower nations such as the UK and Australia. For example, a Fijian with a military family member is refused entrance into Australia (you can’t even enter the airport for a layover into Asia). Fiji has a scheduled election next year to elect a new prime minister, which will hopefully end these restrictions, and allow Fiji back into the British Commonwealth.

Obviously Fijian history is much more complex than what I’ve just described, but these historical realities inform everyday interactions between all Fijians. The current prime minister has instilled a campaign to produce unity within Fijian society by airing commercials and posting billboards with the different ethnicities of Fiji proudly saying to the camera, “I am Fijian!” The current constitution now prohibits discrimination—social or otherwise—based on ethnicity; everyone born in Fiji should be called Fijian. There are many issues with his many approaches to this complex problem, but for the most part, tension between ethnic groups is not one that is obviously presented. After talking to my Fijian friends as USP, this tension seems to exist more in the older generation, but as children attend school (smothered with the “I am Fijian!” campaigns), the tension is dying. The outcome of this historical mingling is the Indian food cooked in most indigenous Fijian homes, the finemats and kava used by many Indo-Fijians, and the instillation of English, Hindi, and Fijian languages in public schools. Unlike Samoa, Fiji’s major religions are Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity.

And so, these realities were present throughout my experience in Fiji. I was lucky to have some background thanks to my friends, and seeing the uniqueness of Fiji myself was a beautiful thing.

The only unfortunate thing about this whole trip was the stomach flu I brought with me to Fiji. When we left Saturday, I was throwing up on the way to the airport, at the airport, and after we arrived. It continued for the next two days, which was a struggle in the village, but I’m feeling much better now. These things are to be expected in this tropical world, I guess.

We arrived in the city of Nadi (pronounced nan-dee) Saturday night, and I of course decided to take it easy and stay in, accepting my fate as a sick traveler. We were scheduled to go the village of Abaca (pronounced am-bath-ah) the next day and I was not about to risk throwing up in the village…but it ended up that way regardless.

Prem, our “guide” through the week, was an Indo-Fijian man with a healthy laugh and a tendency to occasionally shout “Bula!” (hello in Fijian) into his loudspeaker for no apparent reason. We had lunch with his family before departing for Abaca, a meal that I couldn't take part in because of my stomach woes. We drove to Lautoka from Nadi, then up into the mountains for about an hour before reaching Abaca. As you can imagine, that trip up the mountain was brutal and I took the window seat for practical reasons.

Indian lunch at Prem's house

Worst car ride of my life

Up the mountain to Abaca. Don't the pines remind you of the north country?

Abaca is a mountain village of only about 80 people. It was a much different experience than Lotofaga, not only geographically and culturally, but my living arrangements were a bit scattered. I slept and ate in two different homes, with my main “host sister,” Melisa, as my escort. Being sick prohibited me from eating most of the food or drinking any kava (in Fiji is called tanoa or just grog). I attempted a hike up the mountain with the rest of my crew but failed after getting sick and had to stop halfway at a creek. Luckily, my resting spot was stunningly beautiful with a breathtaking view of the sea, along with the three stones of Abaca. Melisa told me that the villagers of Abaca used to lived further down the mountain near these three stones representing the first three letters of the Fijian alphabet a, b, and c. In the Fijian language, the b is pronounced as mb, and the c is pronounced as th, so abc becomes Abaca (am-bath-ah).

Fijian grog

The mountain I hiked halfway

Abaca

Although I was sad to leave Abaca, I was looking forward to seeing the capital city of Suva where most of my friends are from. I quickly realized that I didn’t give them enough credit—coming from Suva, Apia looks like a village. Suva is a real city with endless shops, restaurants, bars, cars, and people—all of which we pālagi have had a shortage of. We stayed in Suva two nights, managing to visit a Hindu temple, the local market (Fiji wasn’t hit as hard as Samoa was by cyclone Evan, so produce was aplenty), and a local bar named O’Reily’s that our friends told us “You haven’t been to Suva unless you’ve been to O’Reily’s!” We spent our days at the main USP campus in Suva, and that was quite a shock. USP Suva is a real university campus with 10,000 students, making us feel a little more at home, and finally sympathizing for our Fijian friends having to come to the Alafua campus after Suva.

What we do best

Pretty straightforward, aren't they?

Hindu temple in Nadi

Our last day in Suva, we went to the town of Raiwaqa, a squatter settlement set up by a Fijian non-profit to allow families living in poverty an affordable living space. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this excursion. I didn’t like the role we played—just students walking around the settlement looking at people’s homes. We had the gentlest of intentions, of course, but it was someone’s life we were observing, a circumstance they did not control nor choose for themselves. The only thing it really showed me was the difference between Samoa and Fiji in terms of “development,” whatever that word means. Many Fijians are proud to declare their country the most developed of the Pacific, but with that development inherently comes poverty. Unequal wages, horrendous government programs, and increasing costs of food and gas (which, prior to “development” obviously weren’t necessary to pay for) create this problem.

Leaving Suva was hard because there was so much more to explore, I could have spent a week in that city alone. Hopefully some day I’ll be able to venture back and have my friends show me around to the hidden gems of Suva.

On Wednesday we left Suva for Kulukulu, an Indo-Fijian village outside the city of Sigatoka. Nuzzled up against giant sand dunes, I lived with a Muslim family with Nisha, the mother, and her three boys Fazeem, Nadeem, and Naheed. Nisha was the most motherly woman I’ve met in the Pacific, constantly checking in on me to make sure I had enough tea, water, food, and cool air. The two nights I stayed with her, we would share stories and pictures of our lives, discuss Fijian customs and society, and learn about our two different lives. We cooked curry and roti together, along with ginger chai and dahl soup. I knew my friend Sanaa—who is also Muslim and Indian—would love to meet Nisha, and it was so beautiful watching them connect through two different Hindi dialects. In fact, it was great to have someone like Sanaa with me in Fiji to explore the Indian side of the culture. Sanaa would translate for me and show me shops and explain certain items or customs. I loved watching her in her element; in a way I think she felt at home more than ever before on this trip.

View of Kulukulu from the sand dunes

A glimpse of the sand dunes

To top it all off, Prem invited us to a family member’s wedding, a marriage between to American-born Indo-Fijians that had returned to Fiji to get married. I had no idea what to expect for this wedding, which was Hindu, but it was an extravagant occasion. Some of the pālagi had their families in Kulukulu dress them up in saris for the event, complete with bindi and bengels. The saris at the wedding were magnificent; the colors were stunning, especially the bride who wore a traditional maroon gown with gold embroidery and dazzling gems. Both bride and groom looked nervous as they performed the Hindu rituals that they themselves looked unaccustomed to being American-born. There were Pacific mats on the floor, a fun Fijian flare to the celebration. We were wholly welcomed into the occasion, and once again I was lucky to have Sanaa to explain some of the customs to me, whispering in my ear, “Now they will walk around the alter seven times to symbolize the marriage through seven reincarnations.”

Blessing the marriage before the ceremony

The groom putting a sindoor on the bride's forehead under the privacy of a sheet, establishing that this is his wife and that she is now a married woman.

Bride and groom together

The rest of that day was spent driving back to Nadi to wait at a hotel until our 2am flight out of Nadi.

We left Fiji in a bittersweet fashion, as is expected. Many of us had gotten pretty attached to our families, given the incredible hospitality and kindness shown to us by almost every Fijian we interacted with. Being in a multiethnic society was comforting as well as enriching in so many ways…it felt a little bit more like home. Although Fiji has a long way to go in terms of “development” and ethnic unification, it is generally making the most of its unique demographics and political history. One thing is for sure; Fiji is incredibly different from Samoa, and although I’m happy to have had that experience in Fiji, it’s good to be home in Samoa.

A traditional Fijian house called a bure