Bula is the friendly greeting of hello that is used by the smiling Fijians. With quarantine and testing complete, we went into the town of Nadi to restock our supply of fresh fruits and vegetables. The marketplace was lively and it was refreshing to see the freedom with which the Fijians were able to move about, given their eradication of covid on the islands. Approximately half of Fiji’s population are of Indian descent and we were fortunate to experience both cultures while there. We bought spices of curry, chilis, and cinnamon, and even ground kava root, the traditional Fijian tea used in ceremony and known for its relaxing, sedative effects. We took advantage of the nice shower and laundry facilities at the marina, and made sure to try the delicious local beers and Fijian cuisine. However, as refreshing as it was to be on solid ground after rolling at sea for days, we were frothing for surf, so we relinquished our slip at the marina dock and made a b-line for the Mamanuca Islands, home to iconic waves like Cloudbreak and Restaurants. We couldn’t have timed it better, the swell came on (but not too on!) as soon as we got there. We spent the next weeks bouncing around the islands, anchoring as close to the surf as possible (sometimes in very rolly anchorages) and logging lots of water time. We parked on Cloudbreak and surfed it for days, scoring sessions with the wave all to ourselves. It was a dream come true.
One afternoon, Kimber paddled to the beach on Namotu Island to get a break from rolling at anchor and met a man who was working on the island. Joji grew up in Navala Village in the interior of Viti Levu. Navala is one of the last standing villages in Fiji where you can find Bure huts, traditionally built homes with walls made of woven split-bamboo, thatched roofs and woven grass mats covering the dirt floors. Joji said that we would be welcome in his village and to let him know if we wanted to visit. We decided to take him up on his offer. The next time we were in Denarau we rented a car and drove to Lautoka where we met Joji’s sister, Iva, and purchased kava to present to her father in the customary sevu sevu ceremony. The trip to Navala took a lot longer than we expected. We drove miles of dirt roads through sugarcane fields and crossed old wooden railroad bridges before the road started climbing into the mountains. We arrived at the low stone bridge crossing the Ba River just as it was getting dark.
We parked the car and followed Iva into the village to her parents house. No one was home and we could sense that something was out of the ordinary. We happened to arrive while the whole village was preparing for a big wedding between a bride from Navala and a groom from a nearby village in the valley. Everyone was gathered at the village center where they had a large outdoor kitchen set up with open fires to cook for the feast. The preparation had been going on for days and apparently so had the kava drinking.
We found Iva’s mom, Ivona, and she led us to her family’s Bure house. She told us to takeone pillow and make ourselves comfortable on the woven floor mat. Iva’s father, being an important village elder, couldn’t break away from the wedding preparations so her brother-in-law performed the sevu sevu. We presented him with the wrapped kava root. He closed his eyes and sang a prayer while reverently unwrapping the bouquet. When he opened his eyes, he said that we were family and we were always welcome in his home. Afterwards, Ivona spread a cloth on the floor and began bringing dishes and setting “the table”. During our dinner of white rice and canned corned beef with noodles, the ground began to shake and we heard a loud rumbling outside the hut. Suddenly a dozen horses and riders came galloping past the open door with slaughtered cows slung over the horses’ hindquarters. Iva explained that the men were returning from hunting the cattle that roam the mountains and valleys around Navala. This would be the village’s offering for the wedding feast.
After dinner, Iva’s brother-in-law brought out the large wooden kava bowl, mixed the “tea”, and taught us how to drink kava. He dipped and filled the cup and passed it to each in turn. To drink kava properly you must raise the cup and say “bula!” before downing the bitter, numbing “grog” and then everyone in the circle must clap three times. We did this until late in the night when the bowl was finally empty and we all gladly rolled over on the grass mat with our pillows and went to sleep.
Early in the morning we met Iva’s father, Ratu, and had a quick breakfast of tea and roti on the floor. We would have liked to stay longer but we had to get back to the marina. Gizmo was setting sail for Indonesia the following day and we gladly decided to continue onward as crew.
Our next passage would be even longer, approximately 2800 nautical miles, a guesstimated 21 days at sea. Border closures and constantly changing covid regulations, navigating during cyclone season, and equatorial doldrums would surely add some excitement to the logistics.
Check out the next issue of Pacific Dispatch to see if we make it across the Pacific!