The stirring of bodies, voices, and pots and pans began between 4.30 and 5am.  Mostly women’s voices could be heard. Many of the men lay still after their late night talanoas (chats) around the traditional yaqona or karva bowl.  [Yaqona -pronounced yangona- is a substance from a plant that usually dulls the partakers’ senses, rendering them slow and sleepy].  It was a school morning so the mothers needed to shake their school-aged children awake, have them dressed, fed, and ready to meet the 7am truck that would take them to the town’s primary school.  The drive into town is approximately 45 minutes.

 

Mereisi, not yet fully awake, adjusted her sulu, a brightly coloured three-quarter length wrap around cloth, around her waist and pulled her T-shirt down to meet the sulu.  I watched this from the comfort of my bed through the slits of half opened eyes.  There was a stillness and serene quality in the air as the changing colours of the morning sky seeped through the holes in the thatched roof and windows of the mud brick house in which I lay.

 

Fijian hospitality is renowed.  As a visitor to the village I was given the best bed in the bure style house- a mattress on old springs that creaked loudly every time I rolled over.  Most of the family members slept on mats on the floor.  Curtains separated the parents’ sleeping space from those of the children, and from the rest of the room that was the family’s living, cooking and eating space.

 

Slowly we rose from our beds and quickly adjusted the clothes we had slept in.  Outside the hut, a small distance from the door, was the concrete square with its tap fixed at the edge- the family “bath”.   Last night family and visitors alike had taken it in turns to tie our old sulus high around our chests, ready to bathe.  A block of blue soap- excellent for personal bathing, and washing dishes or clothes, was applied generously under the sulu and over the visible parts of the body. Running water from the tap had helped to lather the soap and then rinse it off.  Each of us changed into the clothes in which we then slept, ready for a quick start in the morning.

 

Breakfast consisted of leftovers from the night before and freshly baked cake which Mereisi cooked on a small kerosene stove inside the hut.  And  of course there was the usual piping hot tea in mugs.  Our hostess spread a long piece of cloth across the centre of the woven mat floor of the house.  By 6am, we had gathered around it, cross-legged, ready to eat.  Platefuls of food were placed in front of us on the cloth.  After grace was said we helped ourselves.  Of course, as is customary, our host waited until everyone else had eaten before having her own breakfast. 

 

Soon there was the scurrying to get the children ready for the truck that had been waiting in the village grounds since 6.30am. Mereisi called for the children, who had by then run outside to play with great gusto and noise.  They ran off laughing to the long drop toilets set aside just behind the row of village houses, encased in small tin sheds; sheds which so easily blow over in storms or cyclones.  Just before 7am the children piled into the back of the par

tially covered truck, sitting on the benches at either side, or on top of crates which had been loaded to go to market.  The odd pig and squawking chickens filled any remaining spaces, their noises mingling with the laughter and cries of excited children and the loud chatter of some adults heading to town for business.

 

The women staying behind waved the children off before entering their homes to begin the many chores for the day.  Mereisi collected our plates and the pots and pans, taking them to the concrete bathing square outside the hut.  There she filled a large pan with water and began lathering the dishes with the block of blue soap, laying each to the side after the soap had been applied then rinsing them.  In between the scrubbing she laughed and talked with her neighbours.  Next the sasa broom, made from coconut tree fibres, was applied to the woven mat, successfully sweeping all the crumbs and dirt from any hiding places in the hut.

 

Once the house was in order the small children either accompanied their mothers to collect fish, fruits and firewood, or stayed behind with the older woman and men who spent much of the day laying on their mats in their homes or doing small tasks around the village. 

 

In the few quiet times between cooking, collecting food and firewood, fishing, and running after the children Mereisi and the other women sat around the village green weaving mats and making tapas to be sold in town.  The women’s handicrafts are often the main source of income in the family, used for school fees and for purchasing mats to give at the many weddings and funerals or other special occasions during the year.  They also managed to have a nap before the bustle of the evening chores.

 

By the time the children returned on the 5pm truck Mereisi was well engrossed in cooking the family’s meal. Tonight, since there are visitors,  it is going to consist of chicken pieces in curry and rice.  The small fish, caught during the day, will be first offered to the guests of honour and to the males of the household, then to the women and children.

 

After dinner it will be time for the church prayer meeting held in the bure at the centre of the village.  Later the men will sit in the chief’s bure, or one of the other houses, to talk and drink yaqona.  I have been warned that I will be taken to the Chief’s home by some of the women to be officially welcomed into the village through the yanqona ceremony.  Out of respect to the chief and to my hosts I will need to drink at least one bowl of karva.  Once I have fulfilled the minimum protocols required the women and I will be able to slip away discreetly and leave the men to their drinking and talking together.  The women will likely meet separately in pairs or small groups chatting over the day’s events and what is happening around the island.  They will mostly go to bed before the men settle for the night, but may be awakened by the late arrival of their husbands back home.  Hence the need for naps during the day when the time is available!  

 

The life of a village woman in Fiji is a busy, physically demanding one, but one which is often interspersed with much laughter and chatter.  There is always time to show gracious hospitality to visitors like myself who are keen to observe and participate in village life for a brief passing moment.  It is a privilege to be the guest of Mereisi and her village.