In countries all over the world people refer to large cities as ‘the big smoke’, but Lautoka in Fiji takes the cake.
Lautoka (which henceforth shall be known as Lausmokea) is the home of Fiji’s cane sugar mill. It burns heavy fuel oil (HFO), which is about as dirty as you can get, and belches thick black smoke across the horizon. The entire city is coated in a layer of black grime and on the welcome sign the stuff’s so thick you could write your name in it.
It’s not just the mill that produces black smoke either, it also spews out of the exhausts of most of the cars. We were warned not to spend the night close by because boats have been known to come out of there covered in black treacle.
Lausmokea also has the most sickly looking street people we have seen. It was really sad and gave us the feeling that people who lived there probably did not make old bones. Cane sugar however is one of Fiji’s biggest exports – and I am guessing that takes precedence over any environmental concerns there may be.
Lautoka was also the town where we had to do our coastal clearance (a kind of localised version of clearing in and out of other countries, which can be a bit of a pain in the butt). Our brush with the bureaucracy lasted a little longer than most too, because we had to remove Diane and Fergus from our crew list without them actually being present – since they left us in the Yasawas (where there was nowhere we could have cleared them out from anyway). We had it sorted out though. We had copies of their passports and flight tickets and had called customs in Savusavu – where we cleared in – to explain. Still, it wasn’t the way you are supposed to do things and the immigration man in Lautoka was a little bit grumpy with us!
It did give me a good opportunity to see the Fijian bureaucracy in ‘action’ though. We arrived with the crew of another boat in the fleet – Kharisma II – and did the customs side of things together. We turned up only to find that the customs people had gone to lunch (in Fiji lunchbreaks run from about 12 to 2pm) so we settled in for a wait. When it passed 2pm I began to get a little bit nervous that they might not be coming back. Paddy and I had previously had the experience of turning up to customs in Fiji at 4pm in Tonga only to find that everyone had decided to go home.
Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem, but we were due to meet our friends Janie and Bob in Musket Cove and if we couldn’t clear out on the Friday we would have to wait until Monday and they were only going to be in Fiji for a week. Luckily customs came to the party (eventually) apologising for taking a long lunch. That side of things went pretty painlessly and we were told that all we needed to do was see the man in immigration, who we were assured was ‘s0mewhere around’ – ‘Somewhere’ however, was most definitely not his office! So we settled in for what turned out to be another couple of hours waiting.
During this time I was able to identify three different types of official; people who stride about purposefully clutching sheaves of paper, people who stride about purposefully clutching sheaves of paper while talking into celphones and people who stride about purposefully clutching sheaves of paper and wearing hardhats. As you can probably tell, Fijian officials love their paperwork! Eventually Mr Immigration actually did turn up and, after giving Paddy a good telling off, decided to let us go.
We have been moored up in Musket Cove for the past week or so and, despite my pious ranting about villages being much nicer that resorts (which they are!), have actually enjoyed being tourists for a little bit. Things like guilt-free hot showers, washing machines and restaurant meals have been something of a novelty! Though I am about ready to move on now. It was also great to catch up with friends. I didn’t really realise how much I miss you guys back home until then. It was like a lovely postcard from the ‘real world’ we have left behind.
All going well we should be leaving Fiji for Vanuatu this weekend and the trip (again, all going well) should take about five days. We are full swing into preparation mode at the moment. Paddy’s been busy fixing all sorts of stuff on the boat and I’ve been horribly domestic. I’m pre-preparing meals for when we are on passage because our chief chef, Diane, has gone and I’m buggered if I’m cooking at sea! Yesterday I made a quiche, with homemade pastry – because you can’t get the readymade stuff here (thank you Edmonds cookbook!) and today I pickled what was left of the giant tuna we caught on the way to Tonga (yes, I actually pickled something – stop choking you lot!) Tomorrow I am going to have a go at a pizza base recipe Diane gave me and make some pizzas to go in the freezer – I’m actually starting to scare myself a little!
Part of the preparation was a reprovisioning trip to Nadi (pronounced Nandi) though I didn’t end up getting everything I was after. It’s easy to get to Nadi from Musket Cove, you just jump on a Ferry to Denarau marina (which takes about an hour) and then catch a bus to Nadi for $1. Paddy and I decided I might as well go by myself and save a ferry fare. In hindsight that wasn’t one of our brightest moves. Nadi is fine if you are a bit older or you go with someone else, but if you are a young (ish) – hey, let me dream! – woman on your own, everyone tries to ‘help’ you. I never felt threatened but I definitely felt as if I was seen as an easy mark and, after repeatedly shooting down offers to carry my bags, I was getting a little over it. One fellow I couldn’t quite manage to shake though. He pounced on me and tried to steer me towards the local market. I told him I planned to go there anyway (I actually did – we needed fresh fruit and vegetables) but was looking for a hardware shop to get stuff for Paddy first. That was my first mistake – I’d asked for directions. He told me where to go and offered to take me there but, after assuring him I could find it quite well on my own and that I would head to the market afterwards, he let me go. I thought I’d lost him but he reappeared when I stopped at a craft market on the way to the veggie one. It was then that I got a local example of the ethnic tensions that exist in this country.
(History lesson time): When Fiji became a British crown colony in the 1870s, the British governor decided the chiefdom system worked rather well for them and ruled the country through its existing chiefs – whose communal land was protected from ever being sold. More than 80% of Fijian land is still owned by indigenous Fijians today. To keep said chiefs happy the British governor decided to exempt Fijians from working on European plantations, instead turning to indentured Indian workers. Tens of thousands of Indians arrived in Fiji to work out 10 year contracts and when those expired many decided to stay. Because they didn’t have access to communal farmland many went into business and today the vast majority of Fijian businesses are owned by Indo-Fijians. This has caused all manner of political tensions – particularly in terms of property ownership and political clout – but that’s a story for another time.
Back in Nadi my new friend (an indigenous Fijian) was busy trying to haul me away from the craft stalls (many of which were run by Indo-Fijians), saying I should only buy from local people and the Indians weren’t local. He kept on at me and pissed me off enough that I pretty much bought the first thing in front of me – a jade bracelet (Paddy reckons it’s actually glass but I don’t care, it’s pretty and I like it!). I was later told (by Indians who had apparently been in Fiji for generations and considered themselves locals) that he made a habit of that and to watch out for him. And sure enough, he seemed to pop up wherever I went. I did end up going to the vege market, where the indigenous locals were lovely, let me do my own thing and weren’t pushy at all – I also got some great deals ($2 for half a tonne of eggplant, $1 for a big pile of mandarins) so it was a rather successful mission in that respect. I refuse to get involved with Fijian politics for many reasons and I certainly will not be taking sides when I’m shopping, but it did make for a rather exhausting day!
To top it off, just as I was about the board the ferry, I had our beer (a carton of Vonu – a local drop that is really quite nice) taken from me. A very officious ferry spokesman told me that, since the military takeover, they refused to take alcohol on board (I’m not sure what his reasoning was there. Did he think they would be boarded at gunpoint and have the booze confiscated?!) He was good enough to give me time to get my money back for the beer though. The funniest bit was the marina security guard who suggested I just take the bottles out of the box and hide them among the rest of my bags – I would have too if I didn’t have the ferry official keeping a beady eye on me the whole time! So I arrived back beerless and tired but with lots of fruit and veges and a lovely bracelet!
PS – you may have already seen this, but if not – check it out. KFC is pulling out of Fiji because they refuse to reveal their secret 11 herbs and spices to the government. Priceless! http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/world/5388944/KFC-flies-the-coop-in-Fiji
