Red Cross Farewell

People here often ask me if I like Fiji, and I always tell them ‘yes, a lot.’  Then they usually ask why, and I tell them ‘because it’s beautiful, and the people are friendly.’  Its a boring answer, because that is the stereotype of Fiji, but its true!  Sometimes the person laughs and asks what’s so beautiful about Lautoka.  My mum also keeps asking me to write about what the city is like, so here we go.  You see, Lautoka is not all that different from any other city – it has shops, buses, a cinema, cafes and supermarkets.  The main industry is the big FSC sugar mill, which spits out huge plumes of smoke into the sky, day and night.  When I leave my house in the morning, I see it there in the distance infront of me, a thick column of black stretching into the sky; and if I walk home after dark, the smoke looks white against the night sky.  Through the middle of town (next to the main shopping drag, Vitogo Parade) runs a mini-railway, and occasionally you can hear a loud sound like a fog horn as the train brings raw sugar cane to the mill.  There’s a wharf (which I have only been to when I went onboard the Doulos ship).  There’s a nice little promenade by the sea wall, and if you look out to sea, you can see Bekana island, and, further in the distance, Vomo.  Then there’s the market, inside a huge hall, which is open everyday and filled with people selling all kinds of fruits, vegetable and spices. Off to one side, through a couple of doors so as to contain the smell, there’s the fish market, and fruther away is the handicraft section, selling mostly floor mats and handbags.  Outside, bewteen the market and the bus-stand, there are more vendors, often sitting unde huge tarpaulins to protect them and their good from the sun.  Once I came by the market in the middle of a Friday night. I was suprised to see so many of the vendors there- the women lying asleep in a long line, covered with blankets, and the men sitting in a circle, drinking grog and keeping watch over the goods.  These were people who had come from villages to sell their produce on a Saturday, which is the busiest day in the market.  The best rugby ground in Fiji is Churchill Park, which is in town.  I’ve been there a couple of times but never to watch the rugby – St Thomas High School performed their variety concert there, and I also saw Jasper Williams High School do their military parade there just a few weeks ago.  What really makes Lautoka beautiful is when you look up from hot, dusty Vitogo Parade, and see big craggy green hills in the distance, shrouded in clouds… or the taxi you’re in turns to go down a hill and suddenly you see the big blue sea and the Yasawa islands spread out below you.  Even in an indtsrial city like this, the natural beauty of the Fiji Islands creeps in; there are palm trees wherever you look. 

Friday was my final day at Red Cross.  It was very hot, and none of us knew what to do with ourselves all day.  We lay around aimlessly in a tent outside, most of us having stripped down to vests and shorts, and waited for afternoon to come.  Even if we had wanted to, we couldn’t have done any work – the office had been broken into (again!) the night before, so we couldn’t go inside.  Luckily, this time there was no money there to steal.  Only the radio and (strangely) two dozen eggs were missing.  In the afternoon, food-preparation started in earnest.  Vegetables were peeled and sliced, the barbecue was fired up, eggs were fried, and more people began to arrive.  Some time after 5pm, we were all called into the hall, and Kate and I were seated at the front.  We were each given a lovely garland of flowers, and Ganpati gave a speech, thanking us for our work.  Mererai gave each of us a gift.  Then it was our turn to talk.  I was smiling and happy and I started to thank everyone for all the wonderful expererience, for their support and friendship, and then all of a sudden I realised I was going to cry.. I couldn’t even finish my sentence.  Kate picked up where I’d left off and I hid my face in my hands, half laughing anf half crying.  Luckily I managed to pull myself together quite quickly- we took plenty of photos, before going outside for a delcious barbecue supper, followed by ice-cream and cake.  The boys sat around in the tent with a basin of grog and a guitar, and sang beautifully until it was time for me to go.  I have heard the Fijian farewell song, ‘Isa isa’ before, but it never sounded as beautiful as it did when the Red Cross boys sang it for Kate and I.