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Fiji Stories: |
Masi took my hand and looked up with eagerness in his eyes: "Where do you come from?"
Masi was hanging out on the beach—a 13 year-old self-confident boy who obviously was popular, judging by the cluster of youngsters around him. While others from the cruise went on a tour of the village, I sat down in the sand and told Masi I was from near San Francisco—California—the United States. Immediately he and several of his little friends started into a song about San Francisco. Masi bounded off to get a piece of paper and a crayon so we could become penpals. By now the brood of five or so children had doubled. One was sprawled across my lap, another hanging over my shoulder. Their parents way off in the distance smiled and checked to make sure I wasn’t being overrun. Not having had children of my own, I had never felt so much immediate affection and closeness than with these kids who had absolutely no hangups about strangers. They loved to pose for my camera and even placed flowers behind their own ears, drawing their brothers and sisters in to pose for the picture. They ask nothing. They love the attention. Not that these kids lack for attention. It’s common to see mothers delighting in their kids’ splashing in the water or singing songs. Many Moms would not see their children for five days at a time as the little ones would be led by older teens to boarding schools that several villages might share. Education is taken seriously and the English language is well pronounced with a beautiful rounded Fijian accent. Masi returns with paper and crayon. I write my address and he writes his along with Tima’s name, his 15 year-old sister. He asks, "do you have exercise books at home?" "Exercise books?" I ask. "What are exercise books?" "Books you write in," he said. "Ah, like notebooks." "Yes, yes," he responds. "Do you need them?" "Yes, my school needs them. And do you have pencil boxes?" "I’m not so sure we use them in the US. I’ll have to check. But how about pens and pencils?" "Do you have pens that write in colors?" Masi ventured. "Oh yes." "And rulers?" I could see my shopping list getting longer as he wrote these items on the lined page of paper in blue crayon. This fresh, beautiful sea of faces warmed me inside. No advertising, no violent TV in these islands. Kind parents, serious schooling and studies. Lots and lots of music—these people sing beautifully and their melodies are their children. "These sound like very serious things," I said, admiring Masi’s earnest dedication to his school. "How about something fun?" I asked. "Like what?" Masi’s eyes were wide. "Like colored balloons…" "Oh yes balloons!" "And maps?" "Oh yes, maps! And magazines where you come from." I still
wonder where they learned that San Francisco song… |
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That’s the first question most of these island
kids ask, closely followed by, "Do you have children?" The
villages of the Yasawa islands are remote. Most don’t have electricity
aside from an occasional generator. The houses range from thatched roofs
to cinderblock to corrugated metal. You would expect, looking at these
homes, that you’d be seeing hollow-eyed hungry, poverty-stricken
children. But no. These people are strong, vibrant and the children
are sparkling inquisitive and energetic. And moreover, they are happy.
