We’ve made it 100 days in

Fiji

and have learned quite a few
things.  Kelly has finished compiling her
“100 Things I’ve Learned in

Fiji

”
list in the spirit of all things Facebook. 
I don’t have the patience for Facebook on dial up internet so here’s a
quick or not so quick summary of a few lessons learned so far.

Lesson One:  Gardening
in 3^rd world countries takes a lot of time and patience.  Today marks the one month anniversary of our
initial planting and production rate is hitting at about 50 percent.  So far broccoli and cucumber are the most
resilient while the carrot, red onion, and tomato pull up the rear.  Although I went to the largest agriculture
school in the world, Texas A&M, I know absolutely nothing about gardening
so the following lessons learned must be taken with a grain of salt.

Never take the power of the chicken for granted.  I assumed there were plenty of other gardens
to keep the chickens busy and mine was way back from the path surrounded by
high bush.  That doesn’t matter.  They will find your garden and root around at
even the smallest sprout.  My first
attempt of a stick fence failed miserably. 
I have since modified this with a harmonious combination of coconut palm
fronds, weeded vines from the initial garden clearing, longer sticks weaved
horizontally through the vertical sticks placed earlier, random pieces of wood
from below our house stacked like bricks, a broken folding metal chair, and a
piece of rusty tin from the pit toilet house. 
Of course it would have been a lot easier to buy wire mesh or chicken
wire but it wouldn’t have been very Fijian, or for that matter East Texan.  I did have to break out the bailing wire to
make it all hold together, though.  This
may be my undoing come the wet season as I’m sure it will rust apart in a
week.  But for the moment, the chickens
frustratingly peck away at the perimeter longing for a nice munch on my
cucumbers.

Lesson Two:  Toilets
use a lot of water.  This of course is no
shocker to anyone until it impacts you personally.  Well, it hit us front and center as water is
a problem on our little island.  There is
plenty of it, it just drains to the other side. 
Solutions have been developed but the money hasn’t come yet.  So we are stuck at a crossroads between water
and sanitation. 

Most of the villagers use water seal toilets.  Naturally there is a movement towards flush
toilets as this is what most of the developed world has done and they are more
sanitary.  However when doing the math it
is astonishing how much water flush toilets use.  I had always heard this but never really
thought much about it in the land of the cheap and plentiful water.  So when the council said it is time to start
rolling out flush toilets during the dry season while our water was turned off
from 6 pm to 6 am every evening bells went off. 
Here is what I discovered:

Pretty crazy, huh? 
When I did the math I was shocked the villagers would drain 2.4 of their
21,000 litre tanks once a month just on going to the toilet.  When I described it to the council members
they where shocked as well.  So I
developed the simple illustration above to help the villagers understand why
flush toilets aren’t the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

So what’s the solution? 
The ever popular compost toilet! 
Yeah!  Horray for Mr. Poop
Compost!  I say that jokingly of course
as they are heavily promoted in

Fiji

by the Peace Corps and many others.  They
sound good but I’ve never actually seen one in use in all the villages I’ve
visited.  It may be because when it comes
down to it you are still pooping in a pit and it cost about the same as a flush
toilet.  So when water is not an obvious
or painful obstacle they are a hard sell. 

In our case water is an obvious obstacle and unless the
money fairy comes and fixes the water supply issue it isn’t going away.  Therefore, we are rolling out a couple of
prototypes of the compost toilet for the villagers to use at the community
hall.  Here’s the sketch:

They are very simple in concept and even simpler to
build.  My concern is the up keep.  In order for the system to work the user must
place organic material in the toilet after each use.  I can see this not happening regularly.  Also, it takes about a year before the
compost is worth using as fertilizer and that is a long time to wait for
tangible results.  If we can help them
see the long term benefits I know it will avoid tragedy of 100 flush toilets
and no water.  That would take them to an
even more unsanitary position than where they are now. 

Lesson Three:  It is a
lot easier to live on less than I thought it would be.  We have no air conditioner, refrigerator, TV,
car, ATM, internet, radio (wait, we have one station,

New Zealand

news!) washer, water heater, dryer, or dishwasher.  Our power is from 6 to 11 pm and the water is
randomly turned off. 

Even without all the above, life is still good and things
move along.  I don’t feel any less
complete or satisfied without all those things and know I could even do with
less and still be a functioning contributor to society in a relatively good
mood.  This lesson is perhaps the most
profound I’ve learned during my short time here.  It is an obvious and simple one that most
people don’t have to move to the opposite corner of the world to discover.  And perhaps I had already learned bits of it
from our purging of the TV two years ago and the three year mad crazy debt pay
off life that left us little money for life’s fringe benefits.  But now it has sunk deep in the marrow for me
and claimed for itself a permanent perspective of the developed world.  It isn’t a perspective of animosity or greed
towards Western society, just a perspective different than I had before.  It is neither positive or negative, just
there.  Wide, clear, and focused like one
looking at the globe for the first time and realizing just how big

Antarctica

really is. 

We’ve made it 100 days in

Fiji

and have learned quite a few
things.  Kelly has finished compiling her
“100 Things I’ve Learned in

Fiji

”
list in the spirit of all things Facebook. 
I don’t have the patience for Facebook on dial up internet so here’s a
quick or not so quick summary of a few lessons learned so far.

Lesson One:  Gardening
in 3^rd world countries takes a lot of time and patience.  Today marks the one month anniversary of our
initial planting and production rate is hitting at about 50 percent.  So far broccoli and cucumber are the most
resilient while the carrot, red onion, and tomato pull up the rear.  Although I went to the largest agriculture
school in the world, Texas A&M, I know absolutely nothing about gardening
so the following lessons learned must be taken with a grain of salt.

Never take the power of the chicken for granted.  I assumed there were plenty of other gardens
to keep the chickens busy and mine was way back from the path surrounded by
high bush.  That doesn’t matter.  They will find your garden and root around at
even the smallest sprout.  My first
attempt of a stick fence failed miserably. 
I have since modified this with a harmonious combination of coconut palm
fronds, weeded vines from the initial garden clearing, longer sticks weaved
horizontally through the vertical sticks placed earlier, random pieces of wood
from below our house stacked like bricks, a broken folding metal chair, and a
piece of rusty tin from the pit toilet house. 
Of course it would have been a lot easier to buy wire mesh or chicken
wire but it wouldn’t have been very Fijian, or for that matter East Texan.  I did have to break out the bailing wire to
make it all hold together, though.  This
may be my undoing come the wet season as I’m sure it will rust apart in a
week.  But for the moment, the chickens
frustratingly peck away at the perimeter longing for a nice munch on my
cucumbers.

Lesson Two:  Toilets
use a lot of water.  This of course is no
shocker to anyone until it impacts you personally.  Well, it hit us front and center as water is
a problem on our little island.  There is
plenty of it, it just drains to the other side. 
Solutions have been developed but the money hasn’t come yet.  So we are stuck at a crossroads between water
and sanitation. 

Most of the villagers use water seal toilets.  Naturally there is a movement towards flush
toilets as this is what most of the developed world has done and they are more
sanitary.  However when doing the math it
is astonishing how much water flush toilets use.  I had always heard this but never really
thought much about it in the land of the cheap and plentiful water.  So when the council said it is time to start
rolling out flush toilets during the dry season while our water was turned off
from 6 pm to 6 am every evening bells went off. 
Here is what I discovered:

Pretty crazy, huh? 
When I did the math I was shocked the villagers would drain 2.4 of their
21,000 litre tanks once a month just on going to the toilet.  When I described it to the council members
they where shocked as well.  So I
developed the simple illustration above to help the villagers understand why
flush toilets aren’t the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

So what’s the solution? 
The ever popular compost toilet! 
Yeah!  Horray for Mr. Poop
Compost!  I say that jokingly of course
as they are heavily promoted in

Fiji

by the Peace Corps and many others.  They
sound good but I’ve never actually seen one in use in all the villages I’ve
visited.  It may be because when it comes
down to it you are still pooping in a pit and it cost about the same as a flush
toilet.  So when water is not an obvious
or painful obstacle they are a hard sell. 

In our case water is an obvious obstacle and unless the
money fairy comes and fixes the water supply issue it isn’t going away.  Therefore, we are rolling out a couple of
prototypes of the compost toilet for the villagers to use at the community
hall.  Here’s the sketch:

They are very simple in concept and even simpler to
build.  My concern is the up keep.  In order for the system to work the user must
place organic material in the toilet after each use.  I can see this not happening regularly.  Also, it takes about a year before the
compost is worth using as fertilizer and that is a long time to wait for
tangible results.  If we can help them
see the long term benefits I know it will avoid tragedy of 100 flush toilets
and no water.  That would take them to an
even more unsanitary position than where they are now. 

Lesson Three:  It is a
lot easier to live on less than I thought it would be.  We have no air conditioner, refrigerator, TV,
car, ATM, internet, radio (wait, we have one station,

New Zealand

news!) washer, water heater, dryer, or dishwasher.  Our power is from 6 to 11 pm and the water is
randomly turned off. 

Even without all the above, life is still good and things
move along.  I don’t feel any less
complete or satisfied without all those things and know I could even do with
less and still be a functioning contributor to society in a relatively good
mood.  This lesson is perhaps the most
profound I’ve learned during my short time here.  It is an obvious and simple one that most
people don’t have to move to the opposite corner of the world to discover.  And perhaps I had already learned bits of it
from our purging of the TV two years ago and the three year mad crazy debt pay
off life that left us little money for life’s fringe benefits.  But now it has sunk deep in the marrow for me
and claimed for itself a permanent perspective of the developed world.  It isn’t a perspective of animosity or greed
towards Western society, just a perspective different than I had before.  It is neither positive or negative, just
there.  Wide, clear, and focused like one
looking at the globe for the first time and realizing just how big

Antarctica

really is. 

As we where walking to the office Fakaofo was at Fanny’s sitting in
her umu chatting. He yelled, “Talofa” and said he needed to talk to
me but would come to the office. When we arrived at the office the
head teacher, Malipa, showed up with a panic look on her face.

She frantically informed me the toner on the copier had gone out and
they didn’t know how to load the new cartridge. They were in the
middle of final exams and had to delay them due to the lack of exam
papers. “Didn’t Fakaofo come get you?” she asked. I told her not to
worry and followed her to the school to help out. Fakaofo never
showed back up to the office as the Pacific way is passing
conversations are much more important than any tasks you are about to
do.

Amazingly the copier they have is better than most back in the states.
It was purchased by a benevolent tourist who simply asked them what
they needed. When they responded, “We need a new copier,” he bought
the nicest one available.

As I started disassembling the toner package, which had to be shipped
in from Labasa (no running to Office Depot here), I realized the power
was not on. This was another lengthy step in the process as all the
male teachers had left for Nadi and they were the only ones who could
turn on the generator powering the school compound.

After about 10 minutes of searching, Fakaofo showed back up and
started laboring on the generator. The spring on the pull crank had
broken so the process of turning the blasted thing on is quite
lengthy. It involves wrapping a rope around the pulley while keeping
it taught, perilously holding it tight while gaining balance for the
heave, quietly saying a prayer that the engine will crank over this
time, and then giving it your best without tearing a rotator cuff.
After about three of four goes the engine turned over and we had
glorious power. Power is something you don’t take for granted on the
island.

We ventured back to the copier room, plugged everything in through the
maze of extension chords and power strips, and powered up the copier.
Since it was a new machine the instructions are all in graphic format
and very easy to follow. I made sure Melipa and Monika, a teacher,
watched in case such a tragedy happened again. I reflected at how
interesting it was that here I was in a third world country showing
teachers how to load toner into a copier. It was capacity building at
is finest. Back home I had done the same thing but it was mostly for
people whom where to lazy to do it or acted like they didn’t know how
so they wouldn’t be stuck doing it in the future.

These two genuinely wanted to learn but had to overcome their fear of
the large machine in the corner that represented four years of hard
earned salary.
After I showed them it was easy to use and the toner was safely loaded
with no explosions, tensions where eased and tragedy averted.

As Melipa started making copies I noticed she wanted to conserve paper
by copying on both sides. However, to do this she would run the first
page, flip it over and put in the paper tray, and the run the
remaining copies. When I inquired if this was how everyone did it she
said yes, even the clerk.

I quickly ran through another capacity building session on duplex
copying and showed her and Monika how the machine could scan the
entire document and then print both sides in sorted stacks in a
fraction of the time. As they watched the machine process the paper
in and out amazement filled their faces. It was truly a poetic moment
and probably increased their productivity 25%.

Later that evening as we attended a retirement dinner for one of the
teachers, Fakaofo was retelling the amazing feats the copier had
performed thanks to Mataio’s magic. I didn’t get every bit of the
story as it was in a language I don’t speak or comprehend at the
moment but his dramatic hand motions of a paper being run through the
copier duplex gauntlet and use of non Tuvaluan words like “machine”
and “computer” with random Mataio’s thrown in made it abundantly clear
the tale was of the days earlier copier conquest. Such are the simple
and satisfying stories of life in the Peace Corps. You come over
thinking you will change the world and end up training how to duplex
copy in rotate sort mode. And in the end you realize just helping
people out is all that really matters.

Today the island hosted two tourist ships, the Blue Lagoon and Tui
Tai. Blue Lagoon arrives once a quarter and the Tui Tai comes once
per week. It was a clear crisp day with light clouds and a soft
breeze. I think last night was the coldest yet as temperatures dipped
below 70 to a nice 67. The program was to start at 9:00 am with the
canoe flotilla, group of men and women on canoes, greeting the ship.
For some reason they started at 8:00 am which was a shocker to us as
nothing in the South Pacific starts early and rarely on time. We got
a call from Samalu that the party had started and we quickly dressed
and headed to the Falekaupule to capture the performance in
mid-stride. The men and women paddled in a group of about 20 canoes
singing and beating a drum. They circled the ship while singing for
about 15 minutes then headed back to shore.

The canoe flotilla signifies the returning of the navigators after a
long voyage of searching for lands in the Pacific. Warriors who
stayed back paddle out to welcome them back with the beautiful women
singing to refresh them from a weary trip. So, in this case the Blue
Lagoon passengers where the navigators and islanders the warriors.

The 33 passengers arrived and entered under the large Talofa, hello,
sign that was especially decorated in flowers and coconut three
leaves. As they entered the Falekaupule they where garlanded. This
signifies a time of joy and the warm welcome of the community.

Loto, the councilman responsible for tourism, gave them a brief
introduction and Kelly then read a more formal introduction. I was
supposed to follow with a reading of the significance of garlanding
and the canoe flotilla but have been sick with a nasty cough and chest
infection the past couple of days. After the narratives the fatele
began. The songs lasted about 30 minutes and then they asked the
tourists to stand up and dance to a Fijian pop song. They hesitated
but once it got started really grooved, thanks to the dancing of a
couple of islanders who joined in.

The boys then performed a Fijian meke, dance, complete with war clubs
and grass skirts. The older boys followed up with another meke with
fans. They were very good and had just learned the songs last night.
Most of the performers had left yesterday off to Nadi for a sports
competition in Rugby and Netball.

After the mekes a young women danced solo to a traditionally
Polynesian dance song. She was very good and could shake her hips
with the best of them. A couple of Rotuman, the other Polynesian
island in Fiji but much further to the north, men jumped in and joined
her in the dancing.

After the dancing the women displayed their handicrafts such as
handbags, baskets, mats, doormats, turtles crafted from voi voi
leaves, necklaces from seashells, shells, and wood carved masks and
canoes. It was all very well made. The women were given a grant by
the government to build a women’s craft center adjacent to the
falekaupule where they will be able to display their products and make
the handicrafts as a group. One of our projects will be assisting
with marketing and selling of the products. Often tourist come to the
island for the sole purpose of purchasing the handicrafts.

We met several nice tourists from the Blue Lagoon. One man was from
Italy with his family of four and another nice fellow was from New
Zealand with his wife. They asked a lot of questions about the island
and the Italians want to come back and stay for a month during their
next holiday. Most from the Blue Lagoon were families while the Tui
Tai seems to have singles and couples only with only a few families.

I hate chickens and roosters. Although they are good to eat they are
very annoying to be around. I just spent the better part of an hour
chopping wood to make a fence around our garden. Yes, it would be a
lot easier just to by chicken wire but I am determined to spend zero
on a full production garden. It looks like I will have to bite the
bullet and get screen because the pea brained birds just walk right
through my gauntlet of protruding sticks. I guess they’re not as fat
as they look. I found a sling shot while tilling for phase two of the
garden and have seriously considered pelting the filthy rascals every
time they approach the borders of my farm but thought twice when
considering the repercussions of maiming my neighbors livelihood.

The roosters are twice as bad as they collude to sound off every
morning around 3:30 am. I can hear the leader crow far off in the
distance and then the crowing party begins. From then on the crows
follow every 10-15 minutes. I thought the rain might deter their
incessant chatter but it just slightly dampens it. My earplugs work
o.k. against the distant birds but there is a trouble maker near our
house that likes to sound off right next to our window penetrating the
foam plugs rather forcefully. He may be the victim of a random
abduction soon.

-Matt

Tuvaluan Choir.mp3

On Wednesday we made our first trip to Savusavu via bus. It started
with a quick ride to Tukavesi (not spelled correct but I’m too lazy to
look it up) around 6:15 am. The boat captain Meletoni was right on
time and ready to go. We landed and waited for the bus near the
Public Works depot in Tukavesi. There we met a Fijian named Joe who
is responsible for 100 km of roads north of Savusavu. He was a nice
gentleman and offered to let us stay at his house anytime we are
waiting for the bus.

The bus was very full when we started but thankfully we had a seat to
ourselves. It collected quite a few passengers along the way and a
load of school children. It was 99% full the entire trip. The prime
minister for the public works department is coming to the northern
area of Vanua Levu next week so the road crews where out repairing the
monster potholes. Therefore the trip wasn’t as brutal as expected but
still a rather bumpy ride in a 1960’s bus. Thankfully the busses have
large openings running the length of each side, which makes for good
ventilation when squeezed in the seats. Three sit on one side and two
sit on the other. I don’t think the seat was designed for a Fijian
booty, as it is very tight.

The trip went rather quickly as I was busy studying the scenery and
small villages along the way. There is a nice roadside stand that
sells cakes and random sweets. The bus driver gets free tea and
sweets for stopping and all the goods were sold rather quickly. Most
of the passengers disembarked to buy goods or use the restroom in the
bush.

We continued along dropping off the school children and picking people
up and dropping others off. The trip takes about ¾ of the time in a
lorry without the stops. But it is fun people watching and seeing the
exchange between bus driver and villagers. There is obviously some
sort of delivery system set up as often people would hand over or
receive goods to people outside the bus as the traveled. The captain
of this system seemed to be the bus driver as he interchanged often
with people on the roadside either delivering goods or receiving.
Most of the other lorry drivers would stop and talk a bit with the
driver and then continue on.

We encountered a bit of a problem on one of the steep hills leading
into Savusavu. We where still on the dirt section and stalled out
halfway up an incline. After several restarts and lunges forward it
was no go for the bus and it’s hapless passengers. A sharp Fijian man
quickly evaluated the problem, hopped out, and shoved a rock under one
of the bus tires. This did the trick and off we went as he ran up
along to jump back on the bus.

The problem with going to Savusavu via bus is we only have about three
hours to shop and eat lunch. Normally this isn’t a problem but when
only going once a month it really isn’t that much time. This is
compounded if I have any other errands as most visits to the post
office, bank, etc take twice as long as I think they will.

We rushed through our to do list, helped Samalu get some hardware
quotes for projects around the island, had a short conversation with
Peace Corps volunteers Dana and Becky and then re-boarded the bus.
Getting back to the bus at least 30 minutes early is essential. Not
only can you pick a good seat but you can store all the stuff
purchased in the available cargo holds prior to them filling up.

We had a more adventurous bus driver on the return trip and although
we traveled much more quickly his network of deliveries and
friendships with other drivers where more extensive than the prior
driver’s. Thus we often stopped and spoke with dump truck drivers,
random people walking on the road, roadside food stands, etc. He also
liked to swerve towards pedestrians on the road. At first I though
this was an effort to avoid potholes but soon realized it was
intentional. This seems to be a popular hobby among the Fijian
drivers as many of them participated in similar activity on the Bau
Road outside of Nausori as we jogged in the morning. I thought it was
because we where Kavalangi but the drivers are do not discriminate to
whom they choose to chase off into the bush. The wise pedestrians
know this game well and stay a good 1-2 meters from the roadside edge
much to the chagrin of the twisted drivers.

We arrived safely at our port and Melatoni captained our quick boat
ride home. We arrived just as the 5:00 pm bell for Wednesday church
was ringing which meant we had 30 minutes to off load our goods,
shower, change, and hurry back to the church. We made it to church
just before the second bell sounded.

The evening’s activities had just begun, though, as after church the
Tui Tai tourist ship was visiting. They come every Wednesday at 7:00
for Fatele, dancing, in the Falekaupule, community hall. We attended
the session two weeks ago and learned the rules of dress and
etiquette. The locals wear read sulus with white tops. A fou, flower
head band, is required and a few of the dancers dress up in full
uniform complete with grass skirt and wristbands. The event starts
with Loto’s, the tourism councilman, introduction of the village and
Polynesian customs. The first song quickly begins and everyone sings
at the top of his or her lungs. It is hard to follow along, as they
aren’t written down. If you’re from the island you just know them.
Each song is led by a group of 5-6 elder men beating a large wooden
drum. It is actually large wooden box with short sides turned upside
down and covered with embe mats. Behind the large drum is a small
drum made from tin attended by two drummers. The beat here is much
faster and they drummers exchange turns. About 30-40 villagers gather
around the drummers sitting cross-legged in the center of the
Falekaupule. Behind them are standing the uniformed dancers with men
in the middle and women on the side. The men where only grass skirts,
grass arm bands, and fous. The women have shirts and grass skirts
over red sulus. They also have decorative fous and armbands.

Each song progresses with a medium beat and progresses in rhythm speed
and volume as the verses progress. It is culminated with a final beat
of the large drum and complete silence. Then the next song starts in
similar fashion. I typically just clap and move with the music. I
have to watch the drummers intently to know when to stop clapping, as
it would be very embarrassing to miss the climatic end and break the
dramatic silence. Hopefully when I learn the words it will get
easier.

In between songs Loto explains more of the history of the island and
the dancing and then asks each couple on the ship to introduce
themselves. At first I thought this was weird but now find it very
informative and reflective into the vastness of cultures in the world.
On this trip couples where there from England, Belgium, America,
Australia, Vietnam, and Italy. The villagers really enjoy hearing how
far people have traveled to their little island in the South Pacific.

We ended the day weary from our travels but with joy in our hearts
from the celebration in the Falekaupule. It is hard to stay down in
this island, as each day is a festival of life and community.

Making a quick trip to the grocery store back home is rather simple.
In Fiji, like most things, it isn’t quite so simple. Our
opportunities for shopping come once a week when the community’s fiber
boat makes its weekly trip across the straight for some shopping on
Taveuni. We can hire a boat but this gets very expensive.

It hadn’t rained since we arrived and then a big storm rolled through
Thursday. Friday some of the remnants still remained but the seas
didn’t look too bad. We where supposed to shove off around 8:30 am
but the boat captain had to collect copra, dried coconut, from the
other side of the island and then he had to eat breakfast. So we
ended up departing around 9:45.

We thought where prepared for rough seas as the first ride to the
island was in similar weather and we got rather wet from the sprays.
The first part of the journey wasn’t so bad but soon the 1.5 meter
swells had us rocking pretty good. There where nine of us sitting in
this little fiber speeding across the straight and the captain advised
us all to shift over to re-distribute the weight. This happens often
during travel on fibers and seems to help from time to time. Thirty
minutes into the usually 45 minute trip the captain asked if anyone
had something to bail out the water. That and the fact that it was
taking twice as long as usual got me a little worried.

The real fun started, though, when we hit the reef not once, but
twice. In the middle of the straight is a small reef that I have seen
on the crossings before. I guess this time we hit it just right at
the bottom of a swale. The engine suddenly jerked from the water and
the captain almost lost control of the lever. We slowed a little and
then examined the damaged. The propeller was still in tact on the 40
HP Yamaha motor but mangled pretty badly. The captain put the engine
in the water and started off again but to no avail. It was like
driving a car in neutral, a lot of noise but no action.

We puttered along like this for an hour and a half until a boat came
to tow us to shore. We where soaked, sun burned, and weary. But
alas, that is just the first leg of the journey. We flagged down a
taxi and made our way to the market. Shopping is relatively easy as
there is about only one good option, the ubiquitous M&H Store. They
are scattered about Fiji like Wal-Marts and Dairy Queens across West
Texas. Just about anywhere we go, we find one or two. There are
other options but it usually involves haggling and going to several
stores to find everything you need. We found most on our list except
coffee, a sink stopper, and a rubber spatula. Shopping here is
somewhat like a treasure hunt. We can find some really good things
one trip and the standard variety stuff the next. They had real
coffee the last time out but this time no such luck.

After buying enough to last us a month we struggled through an
embarrassing check out process, as our local cards wouldn’t work. My
card had just gone through at a store across the street but for some
reason it decided not to cooperate. Such is the norm in a developing
country. You sometimes see the conveniences of home but most of it is
held together with a shoestring. We’ve learned to always have a back
up plan ready.

After checking out we loaded up into a taxi and prepared for another
adventurous trip in the fiber. The exciting thing about return trips
is everyone that went buys four times their weight in stuff to take
back. The boat captains are very creative in their stacking and
weight distribution abilities, but I’ve learned to always carry the
bread. No matter what it will get smushed if you store it in your bag.

Word had gotten out of our earlier travel woes as three councilmen,
both boat captains on the island, and two additional fibers had come
to escort us back home. People definitely take care of you around
here. With a new propeller firmly affixed to the Yamaha we ventured
back. However, I don’t think anybody checked the engine, as it didn’t
seem to be cooperating as we left the bay. A decision was made to
change plans and lighten the load. So naturally our starboard
traveling fiber companion scuttled over and one of the women
disembarked our vessel and ventured on in the other. Passenger
exchanges in rough water is quite the treat. The boats edge together
and then suddenly converge with everyone yelling in Tuvaluan. I think
they are saying watch your hands, as it would probably be a good way
to loose a few digits, or in my case straighten one out.

We continued on with the lightened load and soon realized this was not
going to work. So the decision was handed down to get serious and lose
the Pulangi’s, white people. Now we are talking adventure. The third
boat came up and we followed the same process, edge up, yell, and then
hop on. It was relatively easy and quite fun.

So we were finally on our way at a pretty good clip. The new boat
captain was obviously more seasoned than our prior captains as he not
only had a water-bailing device but could bail water, drive the boat,
and chew on a rather large hunk of wood. I’m not sure what the wood
was for, but with his well defined jaw line jutting out from below is
water drenched ball cap while bailing water in one hand and brutally
fighting the engine lever in the other he reminded me of a forlorn
pirate looking for his booty. An eye patch and hand hook where all
that lacked in the heroic scene.

I turned my focus to the rather large surges coming over the edge of
the fiber and made sure my personal floatation device was securely
attached. One of the passengers kept commenting on how much rougher
the morning was but I wasn’t convinced. It was a nail biter all the
way home to the peaceful waters of our bay.

The good news was we had made it back home from shopping alive. The
bad news was our stuff was still coming in the other boat. I almost
felt like I had scaled a mountain and forgot the flag.

In summary our short trip to the store took seven hours, two
propellers, three captains, and a mid water boat switch. The really
good news is we get to repeat this process in 3-4 weeks! Such is life
on a small island in the South Pacific.

We gardened yesterday and I have two blisters and a sore
body to show for it.  The house has a
large area across the footpath that is mainly brush and a small garden.  Samalu said we could plant a garden anywhere
so I chose a place in the back away from the traffic of dogs and chickens.  The only problem is there was a landslide
several years back and now the area is mostly small rock.  This was only part of the problem in garden
creation process.

The other small issue was the 18” tall brush covering the
area.  Samalu recommended spraying the
area with weed killer and then burning in. 
I would love to say my organic traditional farming roots kicked in but
it was really a matter of laziness and cheapness that I chose the traditional
clearing method, more on that later.  You
see to get chemicals involves at least 2 hours on a small fiber boat and it
probably cost more than I am willing to pay on a Peace Corps budget.  Then there is the issue of where to get a
sprayer, and lastly, if I burned down the village I don’t think PC would let us
stay much longer.  So alas it was me and
a cane knife (machete) staring at a grove of weeds and vines.

It is pretty simple. 
You bend over, grab a bunch of grass, and wack away trying not to remove
any limbs or fingers.  The knife is very
sharp!  After about two hours you have a
small clearing.  Then the detail work
kicks in with a combination of raking with the pitchfork and wacking at the
remaining grass with the knife.  The soil
is much different here than in Naila.  In
Naila you could stick a pitchfork 10” into the ground with one hand.  Here it goes 10 mm with two hands and a
foot.  So cultivating the cleared area is
much more difficult.  I had to hack at it
to remove the small rocks and then work it over several times.  Then end result was about an inch of lose
soil.  I clumped these up while Kelly
poured water over them allowing me to break the soil up below with a garden spade.  I placed them about 18” apart giving us a
nice 4×5 grid. 

Neither of us really knows what we are doing when it comes
to gardening and the instructions on the seed packages were in Arabic. There
were pictures showing how deep the seeds are buried.  It was interesting, however, that the pictures
showed burying in increments of millimeters. 
Some were 5mm and others where 6mm. 
I never knew gardening was such an exact science!  Of course I was not that exact and placed
them all about ½” deep.  Kelly continued
the watering process and we finished our first garden after about 4 hours of
labor.

Samalu stopped by later and observed our progress.  He recommended building a shade and said we
should have planted a nursery of small seedlings first and then transplanted
the plants over.  Thankfully Kelly had
already started that process with some cardboard egg cartons we got at the
market on Friday. 

Samalu’s son, Foua, also called ‘Disney’ (nobody knows why),
showed me the ropes on harvesting good posts from the bush to build the shad
structure.  We went to the far end of the
village, Cikobia, and hiked up a steep trail. 
Foua wacked down a few small trees with straight trunks.  I followed suite and found a few suitable
victims.  We then searched for trunks
with a fork for the corner posts.  I
really enjoyed hacking things with the cane knife and now understand why all
males over the age of 15 are usually carrying one.  On the way back from our lumberjacking Foua
found a Kavika fruit and shared it with me. 
It has the consistency of a pear and shape of an apple.  The inside is white and the outside skink is
white with lavender spots.  It was very
tasty and I hope to find a few more.

We set the posts around the garden by making a hole with a
large crow bar, also used for pounding Kava. 
We placed the straight trunks around the sides to build the frame and
topped it all with coconut branches. During the branch retrieval process Foua
knocked down a green coconut from a tree in our lawn.  He held it in one hand and wacked it open
with the cane knife in about three blows. 
It really is an art form to be able to do that.  I would probably slice my wrist open and be
found dead lying on the beach with coconut juice all over me.  I guess there are worse ways to go!  I enjoyed the tasty treat while sitting on a
boulder overlooking the bay.  A great conclusion
to a hard days work!

-Matt