Suva Saturday, September 27, 2003
Forest met me at the international airport in Nadi (pronounced NAHN-dee) early Saturday morning. It was already beautifully hot, compared to the lingering Tasmanian winter I had just left. We jumped on a 30-minute plane to Suva almost immediately. I was white-knuckled for most of the ride: the plane was an extremely old Airbus, seated only thirty people, and creaked alarmingly with every gust of wind. There was also a weird smell emanating from somewhere.
In Suva, we took a taxi from the airport to the downtown municipal market. There were more taxis on the road than any other kind of vehicle, and none of the taxis (that we were in anyway) used a meter. Instead, we just asked "How much to the market/museum/airport?" and were quoted a random price. Our other transportation option was "buses" that looked more like pickup trucks, so jammed full that people were literally hanging off the back.
The Suva marketplace centered around a big two-storey building, with blue tarps billowing in all directions around it. Under the shade of the tarps (and for many blocks past), vendors sat behind their tables or in front of wares laid on squares of cloth, fanning themselves in the heat. I would estimate that the market was about half the size of the produce section of the Pike Place market in Seattle, but more chaotic and with more exotic vegetables for sale.
There was a section down by the water for the fishermen to sell their catch, but I think it was too late in the day and almost all the fish had already been sold. There was no ice and no refrigeration - the fish were sold on slanted tables with seawater piped over them.
Outside, women sat cross-legged in front of brightly coloured cloth spread with purple squid wrapped in banana leaves, heaps of seaweed and tiny chilli peppers, and weird prickly fruit. Live roosters were also for sale. The bottom storey of the building was mostly produce, while the entire upper floor was soley devoted to vendors peddling tobacco and bunches of kava roots.
Something Forest and I noticed right away was that everything ran on "Fiji Time" - a very relaxed attitude to the whole concept of time. People moved slowly, nothing was on schedule, and no one seemed to care.
I had never heard of kava before arriving in Fiji, but our Lonely Planet guide book had a lot to say about this plant.
Kava (Piper methysticum), a member of the pepper family, is a mildly psychoactive drug. Fijians grind the root, mix the resulting powder with water, then drink the liquid as a part of many traditional ceremonies and social occasions. Kava is supposed to have a "pleasant tranquilising effect," making users feel happy and relaxed. However, to really feel the effects of kava, you need to be a regular user - visitors trying a bowl usually don't feel anything except numb lips.
Kava pills used to be marketed as a cure for depression in health-food shops around the world. However, when a German study linked regular kava use with liver damage, kava products were pulled off the shelves (except for in the US, where the FDA ignores herbal supplements). Losing the revenue based on kava exportation was devastating for the Fijian economy. And according to the Lonely Planet, the kava study was flawed anyway, since it ignored confounding effects from alcohol and prescription pills.
After eating at an Indo-Fijian cafe (there are almost as many Indians in Fiji as there are native Fijians), we walked to the Suva museum, where there were lots of exhibits on Fijian history. I wasn't very interested in the pottery shards or the weaving samples, but there were also more bloodthirsty artifacts on display.
Cannibal fork
The Fijians were cannibals as recently as the 18th century. Fiji used to be known as the "Cannibal Islands." War prisoners, slaves, and unlucky European castaways were ritually killed, roasted in lovos - underground ovens - and eaten. The museum featured numerous cannibal forks, which resembled elaborately carved wooden chopsticks, but with several sharp points arranged in a circle at one end. These forks were used exclusively for twirling out gobbets of human flesh.
There were also cases filled with tattoo needles made from human leg bone. The display explained that Fijian girls (prior to colonization) were tattooed about the genitals at puberty before they could be initiated as women. The girls would take turns holding each other down while being tattooed, and it was only done during the day, while the men were away, so that the men wouldn't hear the screaming. The end result was considered very beautiful though, so I guess that made it worth it for them.
There were countless war hammers carved out of ironwood, covered with scary-looking spines, and wooden kava bowls.
Wood was also used for traditional pillows! Apparently, Fijian hairstyles used to be pretty extreme, and so they used a low, narrow table to prop their heads up while they slept, so they wouldn't mess up their hair.
One case contained a battered Bible, a cannibal fork, and a small wooden bowl. The plaque explained that the Bible belonged to the first missionary to visit Fiji. The fork was used to eat him shortly after arrival, and his flesh was served to the chief in the bowl. I got the feeling that they were really sorry about the whole business.
My favourite exhibit was the collection of paintings from a local artist. I wish I had written down his name, because now I can't remember it.
We returned to the Suva airport late that night, to catch our plane to the island of Ovalau.
Next: Levuka, on Ovalau