Backpacking in Fiji, Chapter 9

Dancing, The Importance of Squatting Downwind, and Violent Trees

Once again I was left wondering the nutritional value of kava. To elaborate, it seems that Fijians occassionally forsake dinner for the revered kava. How many calories does it have? Is thare fiber in it? Protein? Fats? Whatever nutritional value it may have held was completely last on me. I had been hiking all day. I wanted food. All three of us vavalungis did, and asked Jone about it. After our inquiry, food was actually brought to us. We ate briefly after the initial sevusevu--the welcoming ceremony.

After filling our stomachs, the three of us rejoined to kava circle with all of the homestead's residents. We all visited while listening to the same cd play repeatedly on the boom box. As mentioned before, the kava there was strong. Being the guests, we drank more than anyone else and I soon found myself dancing with a local woman. I danced her around, spinning her and Phil did the same nearby, playing to the crowd. The song seemed a lot longer than I would have liked, but it eventually ended and we all returned to our seats to the sound of cheers. The drinking continued, but as it thinned out and quieted down I made my way to my gear against the wall and fell asleep.

It rained during the night. Normally, this would be welcome: the rain would cool everything off for a while. This isn't quite the case when you have a mountain to climb. We set off early, immediately after eating a quick crackers-and-cheese-and peanut butter-and jelly breakfast. Upon reaching the end of the homestead's boundary our party swelled to include eleven people and no less than a dozen stinking dogs. I wasn't very happy with this turn of events because I had planned on food for six people and already had more along than planned on.

We started off, Jone and I in front but well behind the pack of smelly dogs, and the rest of the group behind us. The going was difficult. It was like climbing a mudslide. At times it felt we slid back a step for each two we took uphill. The heat and humidity made things difficult and I was soon drenched in sweat. Jone carried Phil's pack fro him and we all slowly made our way up the mountain and out of the valley. About two hours later we had made it to the crest of the ridge when we decided to take a quick break.

Phil let us know that he would be walking into the woods and would be back in a few minutes. His mistake in the whole scenario was the direction he took when he walked off: upwind. Two minutes after he left, the smell followed the wind to where we were. The stink was terrible and the Fijians made sure to let Phil, who was still in the woods, know all about it with shouts of redicule.

Once he returned to the group we rounded the ridge and kept going. The track brought us up and down over hills and through jungle at times very dense. Not long after reaching the bottom of the mountains, we passed through one of these dense zones. The easiest way for me to go through these areas was to tilt my head down and let the brim of my hat brush aside the leaves and small branches. This tactic worked very well until I was punched in the face by a tree.

The limb had been hiding behind a cluster of innocent-looking leaves, so when I pushed through it hit me across my eye, nose, and mouth. It hurt really bad. I checked my nose and teeth and found everything to be as it should, with just a small amount of blood--nothing to be worried about. Once I was finished with my bout of profanity and answered the "Are you okay?" questions, we got moving again.

I was careful to watch where I was going.