My big thing this week is that I spent a night in the neighboring village. First time. There were two reasons: (1) I try to spend a night every few months at some friend’s home when they will only let me speak Fijian (shock therapy for my language learning), and (2) we have a guest coming who’d like to spend a night in the village, and I needed to go check it out first.
So I went to the home of Lutu, the lady who works here and also hosts the village visit activity. She is a beautiful soul. Her husband Rupeni is a cheerful and outgoing fellow (who was out going to play rugby and then to a team meeting that night, so I didn’t see much of him this time). I didn’t see her two daughters who are away for summer holiday with grandmother. But her son, 8 year old Rupeni Junior, was home and was my best buddy there. What a sweetie.
I had a grand time. It was like being back in Micronesia when we were living off the grid. Lutu and family aren’t as off-grid, having electricity and thus two tube lights and a refrigerator, a small washer, and an electric frypan. Plus a flush toilet. Luxuries we did not enjoy. But still it was more off-grid than home and I was happy.
I smelled the happy smell of a kerosene stove. Turned out that that belonged to a neighbor: Lutu was cooking on wood. I showered in my skirt under the pipe outside, guarded on three sides by walls made of black garbage bags. I sat on a mat, ate at a tablecloth on the floor, and listened to the quiet. The village is sooooooo peaceful.
A few chickens walked around the yard. All the dogs were quiet.
The village drum was beaten in a rhythm for about a minute. I checked my clock, it was 7 pm.
Lutu gave me a private room with a bed for sleeping, and put up a mosquito net for me since my lungs object to mosquito coils. I slept so well. It was a wonderful experience.
(You’d think I’d have thought to takes photos of Lutu and Junior … Here’s one of Lutu, I’m stealing from my daughter-in-law’s facebook page)
Vinaka vakalevu, Lutu!
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Shelling that corn.
I said “fun fun” because I remembered loving to do it. I forgot that I have repetitive stress injuries in my hands from shelling mountains of corn before. But I’m doing it again. And every time I tell myself, “I’m only going to take out two rows so the corn dries – I won’t finish shelling it til later,” I shell it anyway because I can’t NOT shell it. Oh my poor hands!
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FIJIAN WORD of the WEEK
Koro means “village”
Korolevu, which is the name of a village between here and Suva, means “Big village”
Korotogo (ko-ro-tong-oh), which is the name of a village beside Sigatoka, means “[something] village” – I don’t know what togo means yet. Ha ha.
Vinaka vakalevu na nomu veiciqomi ki na koro oqo.
Thank you very much for your accepting me to this village.
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I’m leaving on holiday for 3 weeks and may not post while I’m gone …. will have to see. So just in case: Happy three weeks, Everybody.
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