Bula Wear

Bula wear is the the "traditional" wear of Fiji. It is used to describe the fabric that is then sewn into shirts for the men, and sulu jiabas for the women.  Kalavata is the term for matching bula wear worn as a uniform.  Bula is rated according to its eyecatching factor. The brighter, busier, bolder, the better.  Bula means life therefore bula wear is worn to celebrate life. Since being in Fiji I have embraced the traditional dress. It all started with a compulsory Kalavata for school, and has since expanded to 4 sulu jiaba ensembles. And I don't plan to stop there.  Bula heaven is Paddy's, closely followed by Materialized. This is where I really lose my shit. Just ask Amy, there is no point in trying to converse with me whilst I am surrounded by such luscious prints, I am well and truly overstimulated and cannot be expected to divert my attention to any other matters.



here is a pictorial list of the variety of bula wear you can expect to encounter in Fiji

BABY BULA

FAMILY BULA

BRIGHT BULA

SCHOOL BULA

BEST BULA

PARTY BULA

BIG BULA

VILLAGE/ CHURCH BULA

MARKET BULA

KALAVATA

 currently on trend is Christmas bula wear. Result is many extra large, walking talking Christmas presents

CHRISTMAS BULA

 some of my bula wear:

Kalavata

I'm always taking orders if you are interested in joining me and embracing this energizing, ageless fashion spectcle.


cost = 3m of fabric + $10 tailoring

BULA!

Just popping down to the supermarket. Do you need anything?

Supermarket shopping in Ba is a chance to reconnect with our ancestors and test our hunter/ gatherer skills and stamina. 

Ba has a lovely selection of 4 different supermarket chains. They are all located within a wonderfully accessible 200m radius of the bus stand in town.

There are:
- 2 MH supermarkets
- 1 Shop and Save
- 1 Rajendra Prasad
- 3 New worlds

Although the items available in these supermarkets are essentially the same (sugar, 2 minute noodles, frozen chicken, white flour), there are some (e.g. yogurt) that can only be bought from one chain. Thus a normal, small, bi-weekly supermarket shop often involves visiting at least 3 supermarkets to locate all the items on our list. Not to mention the fact that we have to then visit the market for fresh items and a good dose of haggling, then the 1.5k uphill walk home.

Thus when we have trawled our way through 1/2 the supermarkets, we often stop and weigh up the necessity of the Houdini item vs imposing dehydration, heat exhaustion, shoulder reconstructions and insanity. Often the un-located item loses out, but not always. Some things are necessary.

I have prepared a list of what you can/cant expect to find when I send you off for a spot of grocery shopping.

Items available:
- soy milk in every flavour, except no flavour
- powder milk, (full cream, light etc)
- 15kg bags of rice, flower and sugar (as long as its white and had the bajezus refined out of it)
- fireworks
- frozen chickens in 15 different sizes
- ghee
- bulk multi packs of instant noodles
- tang/ cordial in every flavour of sugar, so long as its coloured orange
- such soft drink (juice) delights as Sprint, Pops and Fanta in 11 different flavours
- loose, scoop your own frozen pea/corn/ carrot mix.

Items not available:
- meat that wont kill you through a slow (or fast) painful death
- chicken off the bone
- lite/ low fat/ skim milk (long life)
- fresh milk
- crushed canned tomatoes
- frozen berries

Items that have been spotted but are never available when you want to buy them:
- butter
- yogurt
- olive oil
- pesto
- m&m's
- brown rice
- single packs of instant noodles
- apple juice

Happy shopping!

Inspiration board

Tropical weather, relaxed lifestyle, sunny days, fresh as fresh food, good friends, weekends in paradise aside, sometimes working in Fiji isn't all its cracked up to be.  Contributing factors can be varied and numerous. A few examples that have dominated my workplace recently and accumulated into desperate measures being taken include:

• the principal misses our weekly meeting for the 5th consecutive week (its only week 5 of term)
• the teachers sit down to eat their lunch at 12:40 (lunch is from 12-12:45) leaving their classes running amok completely unsupervised
• rescheduling my professional development presentation for the 4th time this term because <50% of teachers stuck out the whole school day, the rest Houdinied out of there AFAP
• Afternoon classes are cancelled for "item" practice (a dance that about 20% of the students are involved in), for the 4th time this week
• Thursday has become the new Friday so now not one but 2 days a week involve zero class time and are instead a mix of sport, recesses that extend into lunch time, video watching and a bit of dance.
• the head teacher still has not taught her class once this term, let alone set foot in her classroom despite  >3hrs in meetings discussing the urgency of this and brainstorming a kazillion ideas...

* (perhaps the reasons aren't as varied as i supposed)

• having a 1hr meeting to decide whether to cook palau or curry for staff social night (curry), then another 1hr meeting to decide what ingredinets need to be bought, where, and for how much, but instead re-discussing what to cook (now palau), then having a 3rd 1hr meeting to decide when to cook the palau, and instead un-re-deciding to cook curry, then deciding to postpone the whole event, then deciding to instead go ahead with it, then reverting back to palau. Then spending the whole day on Friday cooking instead of teaching, or supervising (including taking a machete to whole frozen chickens on a table set up in the playground - mmm boooones!)
• Seeing someone die
• children hitting each other with 1m rulers (or shoes, or books, or anything else they can get their hands on)
• a fave little student not showing for 4 weeks, and when we finally asked "why?" "oh didnt you know! he's not coming to school any more, the family has moved and he's going to a normal school" (no goodbyes :c)
• of the 4+ sporting tournaments that were supposed to dominate this term 0 have eventuated (including a 3 day massive annual event being cancelled)
• the teachers wrote off term three at the beginning of term 2 as being a busy term where there is no time for class work - and despite it no longer being busy the class work remains written off
• most people seem to believe that rain = no school
• etc etc etc 

Sometimes these things accumulate and you feel like you will never make any headway, nothing is getting achieved and every thing is doomed. In addition to developing a killer headache from banging you head against a brick wall.


So..... Yesterday a prominent wall at home was converted into "inspiration board/ achievement wall". A space for us to turn to in times of despair.  It features notes of things that we have already achieved, reminders of moments at school when we found ourselves in tears from laughing so hard, and photos of our beautiful students.  So on a bad day it only takes a glance a the inspiration board to remember that we have achieved things, we are having a good time and we love the kids to death.




- the Pingu post it is because one of our students talks (or trumpets) just like pingu and she makes me smile - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTWv63RyLP8
- Oni has us in fits of laughter from the moment he arrives at school and walks past our room giggling, then walks back again laughing even harder, then back the other way bending double, until we are all aching from laughing too much - love this kid (he also told us that God delivers the sermons at his church- will be visiting there before I leave)


so...
not such a bad gig after all :D

Enjoy work today!

love love.

This side or that side?

"So do you like this side or that side better?" A recent comment made by a Fijian (indo) that has left me speechless. 

As a speechie I, can, at times be very sensitive to peoples use of language. Sure many people speak using appalling grammar, sentence structure, vocabulary etc. etc. (most notably myself) But more often than not these utterances are functionally sound. They make sense. They are a sign of individuality, changing times, personal expression, background etc. And in my professional training/ opinion they are 100% acceptable as long as the meaning is clear - after all we use language as a means of communicating meaning.

But up until 5 months ago nothing has baffled/ infuriated me so much as the Fijian's complete aversion to using prepositions, and more generally, specific language in any form.

As a speechie at home I would teach the use of prepositions on a weekly basis. A common component of language therapy for clients with specific language difficulties or littlies who are struggling to develop language/ speech. They are one of the early language concepts learned by children, and are great fun to teach.

On arrival at BA Special School I contemplated teaching my students, in whom I noticed a general poor level of language development (including a lack of specific language, poor utterance length, sentence complexity and vocabulary) basic concepts (prepositions, adjectives etc). However i very quickly realised my would be folly.  A quick glance at Fijian society revealed these words do not exist in this country.

The most common example I can give you is "this side" and "that side". If you ever dare to ask a Fijian where something is (be it a shop, a school, their village, a knife, a person) you will more than likely be told that it is either "this side", or, "that side".  Predictably these two phrases never mean the same thing twice. So you are likely to remain as baffled as you started out, if not more so.

For example:

J- "where is your village?"
F- "that side"
J-" Namasau?" (other side of the river - usually a safe bet)
F- "no, you know Savusavu? that side." (so somewhere on the 2nd largest island in Fiji, few hundred ks away over vast stretches of beautiful, reef filled tropical seas)

J- where did you buy your earrings Mrs Sami?
S - "just this side"
J - "where bouts?"
S- "you know Chands?"
J- "no."
S- "Chungs?"
J- "no."
S- "Mennoos?"
J- "kinda."
S- "New Word?"
J- "which one?" (a supermarket chain of which there are at least 3 in Ba)
S- "Jacks?"
J- "yes!"
S- "well you go to Jacks, and its that side"
J- sigh.

 So back to the original example "which side do you like better, this side or that side?" Amy and I were asked this by a lovely elderly Indo-fijian lady. The sister in law to one of our teachers, and our current tailor (we sacked the previous tailors after one too many botched jobs). Sitting in her living room after completing our measurements, sipping on warm "juice" (cola), which we declined but were presented with anyhoo, chatting about enormous extended families, marriages, Fiji, the ususal. This horridly familiar, yet slightly original question was posed.  For a second we sat there baffled before Amy spoke up and declared we love living in Varadoli (our suburb, on this side of the river) because its close to town, school etc. etc. Valid answer as we are regularly asked this question. However I was sitting there thinking well were were just discussing living in Fiji. Does she acutally mean Western Division vs Central Division, OR wait a sec i think she means Australia vs Fiji! And in our debrief discussion we concluded that this may indeed have been the intended question. However until Fijian's learn to ask questions properly, we are not going to give them the answers that they are after. On a positive note, the confusion this question/answer created left a lull in conversation after which we were able to make our escape back to our teacher colleague's house next door where our delightfully delicious dinner was being prepared (dhal in the roti before cooking.... ingenious!).

For interests sake a few other examples of terrific non specific Fijian language include:

"call those two and I'll drop you people" Our head teacher asking her daughter to call over her sons so she could drive them into town.

"where did you people go this weekend?" we get asked this every Monday.

J- "who donated all the palau?"
T - "those people, from that side" - double whammy

The use of "pick" instead of "pick up". e.g. "12 children were picked (up by the bus today)", "these people can pick rubbish this side" (the smaller children can pick up rubbish within the school ground whilst the older children collect rubbish from along the road side)

"drop" instead of "drop off" - same deal as above

So using my fabulous intuition and common sense, I have decided no to teach the students prepositions, siting culturally inappropriateness.


Unfortunately Fijians have the opposite problem when it comes to giving times to meet. They tend to be rather specific with their times, however a specific time is more of a very rough, general, not so accurate guide. I feel more times than not it is just made up on the spot as they would prefer to give an answer rather than appear not to know the answer (or admit there actually isnt a set time).

but that is another issue for another blog...

See you all that side sometime!

Walkathon "best day of my life, ever"

The weekend before last was the first annual Ba School for Special Education Walkathon, or as one of the students put it, “the best day of my entire life ever”. And it would have been pretty close.

The plan for the day was to have local businesses and individuals sponsor individual students.  The going rate was $1 per 1km loop of the town.  In addition on the day there would be a number of stalls, games, djs, performances etc. In the days before posters could be found stuck up all over town advertising the big day

our darling newbie even showed

What it morphed into was a fete/ fair day for the BSSE students, (current, past, new and those enrolled that never turn up) and their extended families with a stroll around the oval somewhere in the middle, for the TV cameras. There are many possibilities for why no one else showed including Fiji, Saturday market, family open day at the correctional centre. However the day could not have been better!

Oval stroll

Highlights of the day were:

beanbag "toss"

-     sack races, hilarious, and the students were surprisingly skilled

-     bean bag throwing for prizes, students not so skilled

-     dance performance, with interesting interpretation of  African dress, and the compulsory Shakira song. Parents and other younger children joining in was an awesome bonus

-     dancing – songs were dedicated to teachers, volunteers, students and parents and everyone CS on the DF. Some parents shocked and awed the entire crowd with their rhythm and daring moves.

-    Meeting parents and siblings

-    Our darling K from the slums turning up and joining in the festivities

-   Massive beaming smiles on every child’s face

-    The teachers not having to organise anything and being able to enjoy the day

our kick ass parents Cutting Sick on the Dance F

-     Dancing

-     Students not fighting

-     Great dj playing classics including Fireworks, 
     Rum and Redbull, Eurythmics (one of my all time favourite songs, but what the!), Africa (shakira) etc.

Overall the day raised about $4000 but no amount of money could match the smiles and memories we all took away from the day.

A showing off her best smile

I must give a shout out to one particular student who commandeered my camera for most of the day and not only took some fabulous photos, but also gave me freedom to roam around, dance, sack race, spin children and generally run amok without being weighed down or fretting about kerekere*.

Apprentice Photographer

* The Fijian custom where things go walkabout because what is mine is yours, or borrowing is not considered temporary.

The Nurses come to visit

A few weeks ago it was health check and immunisation day at school. Here's how it played out:

9am, the bus has just arrived and kids start filling past my classroom window. I peek outside and find Senitoa class lining up outside classroom #3 a.k.a. "multipurpose/no purpose room". I wonder what's going on so I ask the closest child who proceeds to demonstrate sticking a needle in his arm. Ah must be immunisation day. Interesting. So I walk down the corridor to sneak a squiz in the room and I see a sea of what is unmistakeably a clutter (correct collective noun suggestions welcome) of nurses. Dressed head to toe in white pinafores, and my memory likes to see stiff white hats to top it off.

and I was drawn into the ensuing spectacle:

The first kid in line is looked at by nurse #1. Tongue out. Torch in mouth. Torch in ears. Inspect fingernails. Check vaccination card. Given OK to enter "the clinic".

Inside:

task #1 eye test - stand behind teachers desk and look at chart on the opposite side of the room. Chart is one of those really appropriate ones with the matching M, E, 3, and W. I watch 2 very young, nervous nurses attempt to explain the task to a child who is either deaf, intellectually impaired, language impaired, non verbal, partially blind, autistic, oppositional defiant, ADHD or has a combo of any, or all of the above.  Observe child try their very best to move their fingers in a weird combo of "east side" "west side""3rd side" and "Manly side" trying to keep up with the nurse who is only trying to demonstrate (but the kid thinks they are acing this one! thinking "I cant believe they make these things so easy"). Pass.

task #2 simultaneous height and weight measuring. This complex task requires 3 nurses - one to read height, one to read weight and a third to record the results.

special task #3- injections! a super awesome experience not only for the poor child that has to receive it, but also for the whole class of students lined up outside peering in the windows wondering whats going on, and the teachers who have to run around the school grounds chasing, finding, consoling and soothing the kids that have flipped after seeing whats in store for them! (thankfully most children were lucky enough to be spared the awful procedure that is needles). Those not so lucky shed a few tears, but then spent the day proudly showing off their spot band aids.

This entertaining spectacle was repeated for each of the 4 classes, with slightly elevated anxiety levels for each new class as they witnessed the hysterics of those before them.*

Little did I know that once all the children were checked over the true spectacle was still awaiting us. The secretary, lovely Irene, came into my room and told me that the head teacher wanted to see me. I was directed towards the "clinic room" where the head teacher pointed to the scales and said get on. I had a little chuckle and admired her sense of humour. And then she cracked another one "I am writing your weight on this piece of paper get on" and it slowly dawned on me that this was no joke at all. All teachers, volunteers, parents and grandparents at school were systematically being weighed, with no exceptions. After much nervous laughing and pleading and thinking light thoughts I stepped on the scales, with 4 sets of eyes peering at the numbers as the pin made up its mind. BAM "insert number" was shouted out and scrawled on the paper nicely next to my name. Amy was up next and BAM her "certain number" was shouted out and duly noted.  Our weights were then compared, discussed, dissected, examined, hypothesised, scrutinised, and finally approved.

The spectacle was not restricted to us whiteys. Each participant (willing or unwilling)'s weight was read out and discussions of who was too heavy and who was too skinny were commenced. As each new adult was shepherded into "the clinic room" their weight was added to the paper and their size added to the discussion.  The heaviest lady (at 105ishkg) was on the receiving end of the majority of comments "you need to lose weight" "I cant believe you weigh that much, you carry B, and you walk to town every day" (carrying B involves carrying him ~10m on and off the bus 4 times a day, and he weighs about 20kg tops). The lightest mum (at 41kg, and a good head taller than me) was also subject to much criticism, "you are too skinny", "eat more", "you need to eat more this and more that".

 It was then proposed that all the teacher's and parent's weights would be typed up and posted on the notice board outside the office for all to see. And on the subsequent nurses visit (next term) our new weights will be placed right alongside so we (or everyone else) can see our progress. We were told by the head teacher not to put on weight, avoid the Dalo, and she will be checking up on us.

The topic of conversation did not vary one bit for the remainder of the day. The tea room was filled with comparisons and comments (always about people in front of their faces, rather than behind their backs. A refreshing, if not awkward approach). Big bones were claimed by the Fijians amongst us. One teacher (83kg) was constantly commenting that she has always been 60kg (unlikely, she is a giant, big bones.) And it went on and on and on until everyone had committed everyone elses weights to memory and told each other what they thought of their mass, girth and impact on earth.

Thank god we didn't have to get needles as well!

*(actually I exaggerate slightly, the majority of the children were much better behaved and braver than I would have ever been, I like to think its because they didn't know what was coming?)

A Stages Bus

The trip from Ba to Lautoka is a well worn route for me. A quick 40min trip one way gets me to my swimming location 3 times a week. Finish school 3pm, bus from Ba 3:15, arrive Lautoka just before 4, stroll up to the Northern Club, dive in, quick 1.5-2kms, dry off, coffee (if I have company), back to Lautoka bus station, 5:30 bus back to Ba, home before dinner is served (if I don't have company).

Really not too much effort for a very enjoyable swim, and what can be described as a pleasant bus trip. That is if i haven't been duped into catching a stages bus yet again...

A stages bus is the exact opposite of an express bus. And is a perfect example of Fijian culture.  Instead of a pleasant 40min one way trip, a stages bus trip is over 1.5 hrs of hair tearing, nail biting, teeth grinding frustration.

You see bus stops haven't quite made it to Fiji yet. Yes bus stations are the hub of every big town, and bus shelters are THE place to hang out in smaller villages, but bus stops are non-existent or non-functioning. And here lies the #1 problem with stages buses. They stop. Everywhere. This does not mean they stop at regular 500m intervals, or at major intersections. No. They appear to provide a more or less a door to door service. This means that if you and your next door neighbour are waiting for the bus they will pick you up then they will drive and pick your next door neighbour up. The same applies if you and your neighhbour are getting off the bus. And to top it all off the ride is not smooth and the bus takes a lot to get moving so i have decided to give you a little taste of a ride on a stages:

Ba bus station: board bus (usually pulled up at the express stop, with an encouraging wave from the driver to come on in). Squeeze down narrow isle, past the badly positioned poles (I really have no idea how some of the bigger members of society, and there are a lot of them, manage this tricky navigation). Try to avoid getting the middle spot in the 3 person seat (George has a knack of being wedged between the 2 biggest Fijian women on the bus). Sit down. Open window. Arrange bags on lap (if this involves a surf board (laid down the isle) the excitement of the trip increases ten fold - for everyone on the bus bar me). Glance up. Notice the unusually high number of school children on the bus. Start to panic (school children = almost certain sign that you have been conned into boarding the stages bus). rev. rev. rev. gear crunch. revvvvvvv. Bus starts to move out of station. eeek. Bus stops for people who have been sitting around watching or chatting, to board bus. rev. rev. rev. gear crunch. revvvv. Bus moves forward (or backwards) again. beep. eeek. puttputt. navigation of buses parked at all angles is a genuine skill. eeek. Chat with other bus driver through windows. rev. rev. rev. gear crunch. revvvv. Go! Out of the bus station! eeeeeek. stop. More people board, as walking IN to the station is far too far. Conductor gets out. Loads on sacks of something (most probably cassava). Piles them around driver. New arrivals squeeze onto seats (usually the middle of the 3 seater, as the isle occupant is not giving up their prime position, no matter how much squeezing is required to get past them). rev. rev. rev. gear crunch. revvvv. OUT OF THE BUS STATION! annnnnd crunch SECOND GEAR! eeeeeeek. stop. more passengers. rev. rev. rev. gear crunch. revvvvv. first. second. third! And we are making our way through town. Over bridge. Left turn. Left turn? Left turn! BLOODY LEFT TURN! (confirmation that this is indeed a stages bus, and I have in fact been conned). Around the block and 5 stops later we are back on the high way.  Yay! Not. The next 1.5 hrs consists of rev. rev. rev. First gear. rev. Sec....ding. eeek. Stop. Wait. Person collects bags. Stands up. Squeezes past other 2 people on seat. Shuffles down isle (tilo tilo tilo). Pays driver. Chats to driver. Gets off. Points to package. Gets package passed off. rev. rev. rev. 1st gear. revvvvv. Ding. eeeeeek. Stop. Repeat. rev. Ding. eeeek. Repeat. rev. Ding Ding. Repeat. So much so that Amy and I take bets on how many seconds between stops, 5 is a pretty sure bet. Reaching second gear without hearing a ding is worth celebrating.  Looking down the road ahead and seeing 3 people standing 50m apart is not a good sign (unless you have a bet on <5sec), we will stop for all of them. Individually. And probably with an added drop off somewhere in between. In addition when you ding the bell that means you want to get off. Immediately. i.e. stop right now this is my house. Thus every stop is a tyre screeching, head jerking, body bracing, bag clutching, not so enjoyable experience. And the trip is a bloody long one. Unfortunately you cant jump off and wave down the express bus that you were supposed to catch because they are not guaranteed to stop for you. Instead you just watch them zoom past you on the outskirts of town, and spend the entire trip gazing your watch calculating how much closer to Lautoka you would already be if the bloody stages driver hadn't pulled up at the bloody express station, to pick up the bloody lazy people who were chatting with their friends in the park (having deciding that when the bus is actually leaving is a much better time to board, than sitting on the bus in the bus station), and bloody beckoned you to come aboard.

Cuties waiting on a stages bus. Big lady in background, avoid that seat.

View from the front row. Packages loaded, gear stick padded. Standard.

To enjoy your ride on a stages bus more thoroughly, it is beneficial to have a appreciation of Hindi RnB remixes.  This style of music is difficult to explain as nothing so terrible exists in Australia. However I'll try my best. Take any hip hop, RnB or pop overplayed song (e.g. Rhianna) take the chorus, cut it and loop it, add some heavy, but tinny bass to it (enough so you cant really hear the original beat or song), record a young widow wailing and play it over the top of the bass over the top of the song that was murdered (perhaps explaining the wailing) add a dash of bells and ta da! Now give it to a bus driver to BLAST out of the speakers (which I always unfortunately happen to plonk my ass directly underneath) loud enough so mobile conversations are impossible (sorry Nick and Annette), an iPod is useless and conversation is non existent. Voila you have a hit in fiji! Or permanent hearing loss + a headache.

Just in case you start fearing for your safety due to the volume and frequency of beeping you hear emitting from the drivers horn, fear not, there are not nearly that many near misses, close calls or almost incidents. No here in Fiji a horn toot means a myriad of things. And almost all are friendly and polite- another fine example of Fijian culture. So here are the possible meanings behind those friendly toots:

1. the bell has just dinged and I will be stopping, immediately, so please be warned and don't run up my ass
2. there is a car/ truck/ bus/ horse coming in the opposite direction, now is not a good time to overtake me, nor is it a good time to pull out to check if it is a good time to over take me
3. do you want to catch this bus even though you are waiting on the other side of the road?
4. bula!
5. I'm overtaking you now, please don't pull out, or swerve, or drive on the wrong side of the road for the next 30 seconds.
6. thanks for letting me pass

and many many more.


toot toot!

A bitter cold winters day. In Fiji.

So last weekend was a scheduled party/ social gathering/ catch up weekend at the Beach House on the Coral Coast. Surfing, reading, beers, sunning, volleyball, pool time and leisure were on the cards. What we got was pissing rain, a capsized boat (in a storm), stepping on cane toads in bare feet in the dark and beers. Luckily we coped. Quite well (thanks to the beers).

The lead up to departure time on Sunday arvo consisted heavily of bragging to our Suva cousins that unlike in dreary Suva it would not be raining in Ba (because it never does of course). Incredibly unfortunately for us it rained the entire 4.5 hour bus journey back to Ba (so much for the burning west), and Ba itself was no exception. As an added surprise we came home to a blackout (the last time it rained in Ba the Vodafone phone and internet service crashed). So much for catching up on over a weeks washing and internets.

With the rain came a slight drop in temperature...

Enter a bitter cold winters Monday morning at BSSE. With a minimum recorded temperature of 18 degrees and a max of 23, combined with constant drizzle BSSE went into semi hibernation mode.  Ski jackets, gangster hoodies, beanies, gloves, track pants under school dresses, boots (socks with sandals for the majority not fortunate enough to own boots) and scarves were not in short supply. In fact every single person at school was rugged up like it was an ice age. However having completed a speech pathology degree with 4 years of critiquing research studies, and being drilled about randomised control trials and sample sizes I must be cautious that I am not generalising here. Thus I am openly declaring I cannot guarantee that what I am reporting on was a representative sample of how the students and teacher at BSSE respond to milder weather, especially considering that less than 50% of the usual number of students attended school (so perhaps I have only witnessed the stronger of the bunch?).

sneaky beanie shot

Ski jacket, hood up

Vitila dons gloves, Caroline ditches uniform all together

There is a proven link between cold and brain shutdown (hibernation) thus all classes were suspended for the day, the TV was switched on and as the students huddled in one classroom the teachers tried to warm themselves in the staffroom with endless cups of steaming hot tea (and endless discussion about the weather, and how much nicer it would be to be rugged up at home).  On top of this school finished early and the entire staff granted themselves an early mark and piled out the school gates 2 hours early to head home where they could access more socks, jumpers, blankets and hot tea.

Through post event discussion with my Suva cousins, and our sista in the north, I have deduced that this phenomenon is not restricted to BSSE or Ba, but the entirety of Fiji enters lock down mode as soon as the thermometer drops below 20.

Oh and boy do they like to talk about it.

 Moce!

Whipper Snippering

check post in things Fijians love....

An introduction to school

Name: BSSE

Location: The tiny building next to Sangam Primary school, with a driveway running along its length, and a spectacular bus parked in a shed at the end down the side. Banana and eggplant trees out the back, a scorching hot slide, a swing-set with no swing (located immediately behind the scorching slide, so swinging would be impossible anyways) a freshly turned garden (gardening lessons happen most days  and there is really limited garden space to work with) and a public oval over the fence used for sport (quite enjoyable as it is infested with cane toads- makes Amy squirm :)).

Ba mapsies - click on me!

Population: 56 students, 7 teachers, 1 secretary, 1 driver and 2 AYADs

Description: There are 4 classes at school: Senilili (Waterlily), Senitoa (Hibiscus), Senibua (Frangipani) and Senirosi (Rose) (more commonly known as Room 1, Room 2, Room 5 and Room 6). The students are divided into classes according to their disability (I would like to say diagnosis, but  I'm pretty sure only one child in the school has a formal diagnosis, so they are really divided according to rough guess work). There is the early intervention class, physically handicapped class, speech and hearing class and the intellectually handicapped class (home to the highest functioning students in the school).

In terms of diagnoses I will give my own guestamation. There a mish mash of: Cerebral Palsy, autism, Downs syndrome, spinal muscular dystrophy (this is the kid with an actual diagnosis - I'm not that talented), "dyslexia", severe language deficits, hearing impairments, cleft palates, intellectual disabilities, visual impairments and some students who I cannot diagnose as I don't see anything wrong with them (e.g. two 15 year olds who moved from mainstream school in 2010, are very social, can read well, great language - so who the feck knows? perhaps I will ask someone next week?).

The "children's" ages range from 5yrs to 22yrs. One "boy" has been there since he was 5 and is now 22, and doesn't want to come to school anymore - surprise surprise. Unfortunately he is incredibly low functioning, cant write his name or tie his shoe laces, and spends most of the day sitting and smiling with a very creepy, pearly white smile, or eating a tonne of sweets (and sharing some very sticky, over handled ones with Amy and I - swoosh out the window, oops) before school starts, making himself sick. However the teachers goal is for all the children to be able to read and write before they leave school (ok for some but....). There is a boys home for disadvantaged boys (and soon girls) which offers training in a variety of trades and skills, but apparently you need to be able to read and write (not helpful).

English is the official language at school, however most children speak their own language, and this is either Fijian, "Hindi" or "sign" (a lovely mix of Auslan, Fijian sign, individual sign, and very enthusiastic gesture).  So the younger children (and the boy mentioned above) come up to me and rattle off whatever gripes or fantastically interesting information they have in one of three languages that I have no grasp whatsoever of, nor am I certain that they do either. I am also pretty sure that a sneaky swear word is thrown around here and there by the cheeky looks on some faces, and the onslaught of dobbing that I receive afterwards (at least I think its dobbing).

So there is a very brief and somewhat watered down introduction to BSSE. Stay tuned for updates on the happenings at BSSE and an insight to its very interesting population.

p.s. happy now mum??

smell yas

An ode to the Fijian language

As a speechie I feel its imperative that I explain the pronunciation of the written Fijian language so as to prevent further incorrect readings of my blog and other important Fijian literature (namely maps, my blog and travel books). Here goes:

The vowels:
a - pronounced as 'ar' as in 'father' for example - "Ba" (aka "the hood")
e - pronounced as 'e' as in 'let' for example - "Viti levu" (the mother island)
i - pronounced as 'i' as in 'it' for example - "vinaka" (thank you, good, very much and almost any other meaning you wish)
o - pronounced as 'o' as in 'hot' for example - "lovo" (supposedly delicious ground oven, tho still not sure about the tinned meat (mutton) that is a favourite component)
u - pronounces as 'oo' as in 'flute' for example - "sulu" (a very becoming man skirt)

The tricky ass consonants: (as a side note I believe these have come about as Fijians have an aversion to consonant clusters thus by combining 2 sounds into 1 letter they technically don't have consonant clusters in their language... pft)
b - pronounced as 'mb' as in 'remember' for example - "bula" (to live, life, hello, how are you and any other word that is not covered by vinaka as mentioned above) (also as in Ba - the hood)
c - pronounced as 'th' as in 'mother' for example - "Caqelai" (which you are still not pronouncing correctly just yet, a supposed tropical paradise which I shall be frequenting next week, will report back on this claim so as to keep this blog accurate and well researched)
d - pronounced as 'nd' as in 'and' for example - nadi (tourist hotspot and gateway to Fiji and the fake Fiji aka Denerau)
g - pronounced as 'ng' as in 'sing' for example - "ruasagavulu" (the number 20. no wonder everyone counts in English)
and finally the most interesting:
q - pronounced 'ng' as in 'linger' for example - "yaqona" (aka kava, grog, dirty dish water)

So hopefully you now know how to pronounce Caqalai and Namaqumaqua and Malololailai and Nananu-i-Cake and Beachcomber Island, and all the other wonderful places I will be posting about!

Vinaka Vakalevu!

The Trip

So we finally made it to mBa, and The Trip was definitely a lesson in Fijian culture. 

We were collected from Hotel Capricorna (such a lovely place, such a lovely place, such a lovely place, any time of year) the obligatory 1hr late by Dan our Dad. Luckily we were prepared this time, unlike last time.  We waited on the curb at 5:30am on a Saturday morning only to give up at 7am and roll back into bed just in time to receive a call from reception that our lift had arrived. Then we filled up with petrol. Then we stopped at the supermarket for snacks. Then we were told that we were going the queens road (lpong way round) instead of the kings road (interesting way round) becuase Dan our Dad didn't want to drive over the log bridges in the Land Cruiser, "but when you come in bus it is ok...".  Then The Trip finally started, and it was a long one.

The radio ran out of signal about 1/2hr out of Suva, but it remained on anyway so we listened to symphonic static for about an hour (possibly better than J-Lo, G6s and Rum/Redbulls anyway).  The Trip was punctuated by a few snack breaks for Dan our Dad and toilet stops for myself. My entire nutritional intake for the trip consisted of a packet of Extra Cheese Twisities, a popper and a few prunes. 

Although the sites out the window were beautiful (the Coral Coast) The Trip was entirely uneventful.  I did manage to read my guide book's blurb on every single resort we passed which I think was a great use of empty time, and good research. Now I know all the hot spots and I have consolidated peoples suggestions, guide book information and personal geographical orientation to commit the Coral Coast to memory.

The Trip was almost ready to be wound up when we passed through Lautoka. However instead of passing through we were given the driving tour of Lautoka by Dan our Dad.  A nice thought, however after 6 months of preparation, 1.5 weeks of nearly there and 5 hours in the car we kinda just wanted to see mBa. After driving down the main street of Lautoka 3-4 times we finally continued with The Trip.

Then in almost no time it was mBa! As we craned our heads out the windows taking in the sights Dan our Dad took us to look at our 1st housing option. A miniscule ground floor apartment, previously rented by "the 2 VIDAS", and otherwise usually connected to the rest of the house as a guest residence.  It was nice, but the land lady (living upstairs) was potentially nosey ans there was no spare beds for all the guests we are going to receive in mBa. however Dan our Dad spent the rest of the evening slipping in comments about all the positive aspects of option #1 (neat, clean, cheap, close to school, close to town, very safe, bills included, cheap, bills included, extra money for holidays, cheap etc..).

Finally The Trip came to an end when we arrived at the Famous mBa Hotel.  Amy and I started unloading our gear from the Land Cruiser whilst Dan our Dad collected our keys from reception, which took an incredibly long time. Luckily I had unpacked my camera so took a few shots.

and it turned out The Trip hadn't come to an end at all. The Famous mBa Hotel had mixed up our dates and was now completely full up with people attending a work shop. So we hopped back into the Land Cruiser for another 1/2hr on the road to sleepy Tavua for a night in the lovely Tavua Hotel.

Trip finally over.

week 1: arrival and orientation

So finally after about 6 months lead up I boarded the plane to Fiji.  I thought at this time reality would have hit, but it still hasn't. The plane trips were uneventful, with the occasional bragging of who got the most excess baggage through for free. (most certainly wasn't me, but i wasn't the worst. phew. had a few other dilemmas to sort out at check in). 

The arrival in Nadi was... hot. After delicately re-balancing my swathe of bags after the security screen I was pulled up for a suspicious jar object in me bag.  After a lot of shouting across the arrivals terminal and miscommunication the offending bag and pocket were located and inside was found an innocent jar of survival Vegemite.  Sega na lega (no worries) we were waved through.  on the other side I was met by a cold bottle of Fiji water and a lovely but itchy flower neck decoration and introduced to our Fijian mum and dad, Lice (Lithe) and Dan.

The next 2 days were passed uneventfully in Nadi easing ourselves into the heat and culture. We visited the ridiculous creation that is Denerau Island, tasted the local dishes and sweated out more liquid than was possible to replace.