Unpretentiously Fiji

How are you adjusting to your new home? A friend curiously messaged me one day. I replied, “Nothing major, it feels like home.”

It must be the weather, the Fijians’ gracious demeanor or the overall impression of things that remind me of the tropics: soaring coconut trees, shrubs of blooming hibiscus, a lively Saturday market scene glowing with nature’s bounties. Fresh catch from the sea, crustaceans of all kinds – crabs, shrimps, lobsters and a variety of fish of all colors and sizes. From the rich soil are heaps of kamote, cassava, gabi, okra, eggplant, string beans while glistening green guavas, avocados, semi-ripe papayas, a range of yellow or green bananas and golden, brownish passion fruits evoke recollection of a happy rural childhood.

When new to our host country, my first must-do rituals include visiting the church, going to the market and exploring a museum. Following this routine is essential to the practice of our faith and its fundamental sacraments, which leads to establishing relationships with people we share our belief with. It allows us to gradually integrate with the locals’ way of life in a pulsating milieu like the marketplace. Spending a day if not days in museums is a perfect segue to understand the history, heritage and culture of the country we would call home for a few years.

It’s been almost a month since we moved to Suva, Fiji’s capital. We are still in a phase of discovery when alongside familiarizing ourselves with the contours of the city and its people, comes the surprise of knowing the extent of what Fijians associate the Philippines with.

On our flight here, I had a pleasant chat with the airline’s chief purser Lorna, who asked if it’s my first time in Fiji. She said she’s from Tonga and upon knowing I’m Filipino, she mentioned two popular soap operas that Fijians are crazy about – “Sa Piling Mo” and “Gulong ng Palad.” I’m familiar with the latter as an old tv show, for I had watched episodes of it from way back. Then we carried on with our hushed conversation about her country and life in Fiji.

I had almost forgotten about that exchange with Lorna, when one Sunday after mass on a taxi ride from church with the hubby and Consul Emi, the driver asked if we’re Filipino. We said yes. What ensued was the driver’s soliloquy that sounded like this: “Filipino. Gulong ng Palad. Many Fijian women watch tv. They always cry. Sometimes they forget to cook, to clean. The house is dirty.”

His monologue sounded like a lament, albeit witty. We alighted from the cab amused, wondering if the cab driver was pondering from experience. But he didn’t sound upset that there was no food or the house was unkempt. Or maybe he didn’t want to offend us. Perhaps he was glad to have Filipino passengers and admired how a sentimental tv series is woven into the fabric of Fijian women’s life, so much so that what’s depicted on Filipino drama also resonates with them.

Spontaneity! This is an aspect of our life in Suva now. A turnaround coming from a place where I had reservations about asking questions to my next-door neighbor, worried I might be encroaching on one’s privacy. Having relied on my phone apps for directions, purchases and useful information to get by, my routine is changing now. I’m interacting with people more, English being Fiji’s main language of communication.

While still staying in a hotel, which is a shorter distance walk to church, no matter how fast we strode with our New York walk, men and women we met along the way, perhaps sensing we’re newcomers, smiled, looked into our eyes, greeted us with a slight nod, uttering good morning. Sometimes it’s bula or what I feel like a divine whisper, “have a blessed day.” And we reply in the same manner. The custom is practically the same, the gesture is done almost anywhere, any time of the day.

The day I went to the Fiji Museum, a lady asked if I have any questions. I said, none so far. I’m new in the city and I’m fine to explore. “Since you’re new, I better give you a tour. I’m Lorna and I work here,” she said. Then we shook hands. How serendipitous, I told myself. If Lorna the airline purser so kindly gave me a preview of what to expect in Fiji, here I am with a second Lorna, who’s eager to expand the snippets I learned from the first.

From a dense city where I had to crane my neck to appreciate century-old art deco buildings blending with modern architectural wonders, in Suva, an afternoon delight consists of a kilometric brisk walk by the tranquil boulevard, greeting and smiling at fellow walkers.

When you live amongst nature, you live within a certain rhythm. You bask when the sun greets you good morning, hurry when you feel the burning heat at noontime. You gaze at the endless ocean as the sky turns pinkish orange then you contemplate: how would it be like at nighttime? Will I quiver at the sound of shrieking bats? Will an insect crawl on my arm or hover around my ear in the middle of my sleep? When I wake up, will a mynah perch by the balcony and pray along with me? On very humid days I wish for heavy clouds to rumble so the rain could dance by the windowpane. Then I would slumber without turning the aircon on.

There’s so much more to learn about this lovely island state and its less than a million people. There’s more to discover about our fellow Filipinos, kababayans who have lived here for decades and have established a respectable foothold, Fijians know them by name. I look forward to listening to their stories. For now, I’m grateful in living simply, unpretentiously Fiji.