Where East Indians, Chinese, and Fijians Meet
I was in Fiji about this time of year in 1995. I wonder how and if it has changed. These two excerpts appear in my book, Memoirs of a Middle-aged Hummingbird, published in 2006.
June 8, 1995
I am warm again and back in the third world among a cultural melange of big, hairy, black Fijians, very dark East Indians, and some Chinese people. The Fijians and Indians communicate together only in English because they generally don’t know each other’s language. Fijians speak their own language, plus a village dialect, while the East Indians use Hindi among themselves.
I was curious as to why there are so many East Indians in Fiji. The British government once controlled Fiji and wanted to plant sugar cane as the major crop. In their colonial wisdom, they decided to import workers for the sugar cane fields from India and brought in large numbers of laborers. These laborers eventually multiplied and lost their connection to India. Born and raised in Fiji, they outgrew the sugar cane fields and became entrepreneurs. In the modern independence of Fiji, the business world is mostly led by the East Indians of Fiji who hire the native Fijians to work for them. This is a continuing predicament since the two groups remain distinct and separate; the East Indians becoming richer while the Fijians stay poor.
The Fijians are easy to get along with, and appear happy and relaxed. I’ve been told that the local drink, kava, helps to keep them calm. It is made from the root of the pepper tree and is always offered in social situations. During a tour, I was given kava to welcome me to a small village. Knowing that it can be intoxicating, I drank only a small bit, but it quickly numbed my lips. The East Indians also welcome tourists with the greeting, bula, but one senses the ulterior motive of selling something.
In New Zealand and Bali, a cloudy, rainy day could still be beautiful. But here in Suva, a blue sky makes a critical difference in how beautiful it is. In the sun, the ocean has the loveliest shades of blue-green.
June 14, 1995
I have flown over to Levuka, another island of Fiji, which was the old capital of Fiji. It is a “lost in time” little town. I’m staying in an old, rambling hotel, which evokes happy memories of a dilapidated hotel my grandparents used to own across from a beach in Massachusetts. There are very few restaurants in this town. In fact, there are few of everything here, but the food is surprisingly tasty. Impressive mountains rise as a backdrop just behind the town that occupies a rather narrow strip between sea and mountain.
It is Fijian-friendly to the extent that it is rare not to be greeted by passers-by. Strangely, they say “Good morning,” regardless of the time of day, or “goodbye” instead of “hello” when you pass by. One unusual resident is a transvestite who works at a local restaurant. He seems to be accepted, but I can’t help wondering what his life is like in this very small town.
Living in the peace of this place makes the rest of the world seem just plain crazy. I was ruminating today, as one’s mind tends to in places like this, that I have lived in an age when travel has made it quite unlikely to be the “first one” anywhere, but yet I have been “the first foreigner” in many Chinese lives, which gives me a special kinship with the early explorers.
Tags: Fiji; Levuka, Fiji; people of Fiji;, Suva, Travel
