PRAYER REQUESTS
- Health (mental, spiritual, physical, etc.)
- The final term of the 2021 school year (October-December)
- Relationships with students and staff
- Homesickness/loneliness
- Family health and safety
An Academic calendar for the southern hemisphere begins in January and ends in December. The international school I am employed by runs on a full year schedule which puts 2-3 week holiday breaks between every new 9-10 week term. Prior to COVID, this would be when many expat families would travel. As you all know, eleven days into my moving to Suva, Fiji underwent a severe lock-in with internal borders and containment zones as the country sought to prevent the spread of COVID within this rural and developing nation. At the end of September of this year, half a year into my stay in Fiji, the country reached the 90% goal of its target population for vaccinations. The Ministry of Health and Governing officials had pledged that when that goal was reached the internal border lockdowns and containment zones between cities, villages, provinces (not between islands) would be removed. The curfew (5PM-4AM) would also be pushed back later. Many were thrilled regarding this news as these changes came right before teachers and students would go on a two week break between terms 3 and 4 in the 2021 Academic School year. Many locals celebrated their opportunity to visit outside their containment zones for the first time in months. The traffic out of Suva city that first weekend after the borders were lifted was insane. Months of online school and staying at home was getting to everybody, a feeling I know most of the world can relate. At the end of Term 3, I was feeling exhausted, disappointed, and lonely with absolutely nothing and no one to be hopeful about. It’s hard to make friends when you’ve barely met more than a handful of people for half of a year in a new country. My upstairs neighbors with my little BFF G had made plans to drive to the west coast of Viti Levu Island (about 2-3 hours) to spend the entire 2 week break at an assortment of resorts (newly reopened to welcome vaccinated locals and in-country expats). I had made no plans other than to grade and plan for Term 4 which was seeing an entire revamping of the schedule with the knowledge that we would be online for the rest of the 2021 school year. On the first or second night of my break, my landlord’s uncle was working in the yard on some outdoor projects. I decided to step outside and have a chat with him. He asked me if I was going to travel anywhere in Viti Levu now that the borders were opened. He knew the upstairs tenets were planning to be away for the entire break and wondered what plans I had made. I told him “No,” I hadn’t looked into or made any plans to leave home during the two weeks. Our conversation turned to how much of a homebody he considers himself. He told me, “I don’t like going out or going away. I love to be home and have my friends come to me.” Anil’s idea of a good time is sitting watching the sunset and talking with friends while drinking Kava (or grog as the locals call it) together. I listened, saying that I had never been that way. Being someone who doesn’t even have a house, state, or even country that feels fully like a “home”, I love travel, changes in scenery, trying new things, and having adventures. However, our conversation went on and I explained how moving to Fiji with all these expectations of how I would go out and learn the country/city and experience new things, only to end up alone in my house doing a new job completely remotely, had made me begin to feel daunted and overwhelmed by the thought of traveling and going out. Even as I said it out loud, I hated hearing it. My fearless, extroverted-self had been truly snuffed out by the trauma of this transition to Fiji. As I shared this, this 70+ year old self-professed homebody proceeded to instruct me. His talk was somewhere between an unexpected lecture and a long-overdue pep talk. The short version of his speech went like this, “You are young. You’ve just moved to this new country. You’ve barely been allowed to leave your house for almost six months. It is time for you to get out. The prices right now are very low and the resorts won’t be crowded due to the international borders still being closed. There is no doubt in my mind, you need to get out and go somewhere. You need to go try something new! Things are quiet in Fiji right now, take advantage of it while you can.” I was surprisingly moved by his speech. Even with the fact that he added he himself would never go to a resort or hotel to ‘get away’. I understood what he was saying though. Here I was with my first opportunity to step out and get away for a few days during a break and I hadn’t even considered taking it. There was a chance to see more of this country than I have since I moved here, in a safe way with friends at the other end (he was encouraging me to go to one of the resorts G’s family would be at over break). Anil promised that if I made plans to go, he would help me find transport there and make sure I was safe. The next day, I called the Fiji Marriot Resort in Momi Bay. After that I called a local express bus company and got information about their transportation routes. The representatives on the phone assured me that with special request to the driver, I could be dropped off right at the hotel. I organized meticulously and planned for every step of the journey. I wanted to be prepared. I was feeling very nervous as this would be my first time traveling solo in Fiji – not to mention just leaving my house for anything other than a grocery store trip. Anil even agreed to drop me off at the bus depot for my early morning trip. I was as ready as I could be… or so I thought. As I packed the night before my departure, Anil and my landlord Umesh stopped to check on how I was getting to the west. I explained about calling the bus company and how they confirmed that I could be dropped off at the Marriot. I was so confident about it. I saw the two men share a look before gently sharing with me that they had never heard of the bus (particularly the express track I was to ride) going out of its way to ‘drop people off on doorsteps’, so to speak. The thought stressed me out and I explained how I had called and spoken to two different associates who confirmed the same thing, it was no problem. Looking back, I realize I should have trusted Anil and Umesh (or just had them call to confirm because as would become obvious the next day, those representatives either were wrong or really didn’t understand what I had been asking). The next morning, Anil drove me to the bus depot on his way to work at around 7:30 AM (lots of extra time in order for me to make the 8:30 AM bus). He walked up to the associates working and explained with me where I needed to go and what my stop would be. The bus coordinator frowned behind his mask before saying, “No, that’s not possible. We do not go there.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but I panicked, “You do! I talked to someone on the phone and they told me to tell that driver.” “Who did you talk to?” the man asked. “I called the official number on the website!” I insisted, completely in denial… at his denial. I was so sure that I had been responsible, done my research, asked the right questions, and made all the arrangements. Looking back on how I felt in that moment, it is clear to me that COVID has really done a number on my confidence. You all know, that this girl, ME, has traveled solo to multiple countries where I did not speak the language. I have been lost in airports, got on the wrong bus, and confused train stations with no language and no backup plan before. I have never felt as fearful as I did in this moment standing in the Suva bus depot listening to a man, in very clear and understandable English tell me that the bus I wanted to ride does not and has never gone to the place I wanted it to. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about asking Anil to just take me home and forget about this whole getaway. A group of bus depot workers started to gather, explaining how I could ride the bus all the way to this other town and get another bus back 30 minutes near the resort. Another man argued there was a village stop 20 minutes before that I could get off at and just take a taxi the rest of the way. All these towns and village names—multiple buses, maybe a van, sometimes a taxi ride—I stood there listening with a giant lump in my throat, my voice breaking, feeling absolutely terrified. Finally, the bus manager explained that if I waited until the 9:30 AM bus arrived, then that bus could get me to a taxi junction about 15 minutes from the hotel. Anil checked with me, but told me he thought that was the best option for me. I wordlessly agreed, nodding my understanding. This meant I had to wait for about one and a half hours for the later bus. I made my way quietly over to the little makeshift bench as people hustled and bustled along their morning commutes. As I sat there, I mentally chided myself, “You’ve been so much more out of your depth than you are right now. Are you seriously about to cry over this situation? They speak English! Get it together, Manning! As I sat alone and internally battled to get my tears under control, I prayed quietly. The 8:30 bus finally left and the man who had been packing passenger’s luggage beneath the coach approached me. He introduced himself as Jesoni. He asked my name and inquired how I was feeling, having noticed by stress and crying. He told me that I didn’t need to worry and asked if it would make me feel better to call the hotel and confirm the taxi junction drop off. I agreed. We called the hotel together and Jesoni explained the situation while I held the phone on speaker. He asked the hotel receptionist if the junction would be the best place to drop me off. The receptionist hurriedly responded, “No! Don’t drop her off there. Because of COVID that taxi station is empty. No one is using it anymore. If you drop her there she’ll be standing on the edge of the road all alone.” I can only imagine how big my eyes got at this new development. Jesoni took it in stride though and asked, “Where do you suggest she go?” The receptionist gave him information about a police post down the road where they could drop me off and I could order a taxi to drive me only 15 minutes to the hotel. After hanging out Jesoni explained to me that he would arrange everything with the bus driver. He reassured me that he would even call the bus driver after we left to remind him where to let me out. He gave me his number in case I got into trouble. His final statement of comfort was telling me that he would make certain that I got there okay. I thanked him and explained how this was my first time going out in Fiji since moving here. I shared how I was finding the whole experience more frightening than I had anticipated. He nodded before turning to me very seriously. “Sarai, do you know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” I barked out a laugh before feeling an overwhelming rush of tears fill my eyes, “Yes, I do.” I choked out. “Well then sister, you have nothing to be afraid of. God goes with you. And He put me here to look out for you. You know you can always trust His goodness and provision.” There was no holding the tears back after that. “Yes, I know that,” I acknowledged. “I’m just finding it especially hard to hold onto and believe His truths these days.” “Believe it, sister! Believe it,” he spoke cheerily from behind his mask. For the next hour or so, Jesoni did everything he promised. He checked on me, made arrangements with team members, and made sure I got loaded up onto the 9:30 AM bus. He introduced me to the driver and made sure we both knew where I needed to go and what I needed to do. I thanked him again and he sent me away with a “God bless you, sister.” The bus journey finally began and on the whole is was mostly uneventful. We passed miles of shoreline, sugarcane fields, lush mountain jungle, and small villages with large signs posted outside them reading, NO VISITORS. COVID RESTRICTIONS. Cattle, horses, and stray dogs dotted across roadsides as I watched. I napped here and there before noting that we should be getting close to my drop-off location. Following our progress on my cellphone, I noticed as we passed through the very abandoned taxi station. A few children and teens sat on mats beside the road selling mangos. I wasn’t sure how far it was to where I would be dropped off, but the driver pulled over soon after and called out to me. I followed him off the bus as he walked over to pull my bag out from underneath the bus. My confusion rose as I stepped down and came more or less face to face with a little calf tied to a tree. No people, no buildings, just brush, gravel, and the calf. I looked expectantly at the driver as he brought me my bag. He pointed up a gravel drive where I was relieved to discover the police community post stood hidden behind the trees. I awkwardly attempted to roll my bags across the gravel stones, feeling the stares of thirty or more eyes from the entire bus watching me struggle up the path. I can only imagine how I looked, a bewildered and clueless little foreigner attempting to roll her bag up a rocky rural drive with a brown calf vocalizing behind me. The post looked dauntingly empty and deserted as I approached, tipping my bag over two times in my attempt to walk toward the building. Finally, I spotted a lone man, in a police uniform, sitting under a tent by the edge of the road. I approached him cautiously. “Hello,” I said in greeting, hoping my voice sounded more confident than it felt. “Bula!” he replied. I could tell from his facial expression he was surprised to see me. “Umm… I’m going to Momi Bay and the hotel told me that I could ask you to help me get a taxi.” My explanation came out awkward. “You need a cab?” he puzzled. “Yes.” “To the Marriot?” “Yes.” His face held a very curious expression, “Who—who will pay for the cab?” I laughed uncomfortably. “I have money.” “You will pay?” “Yes, I can pay.” I wondered if this wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped. He looked at me for a moment before nodding and pulling out his phone. He spoke briefly in Fijian before pointing me to a bench on the front porch of the community post building. He told me to wait there until the taxi arrived. It was so quiet (except for the chatty little calf I could still hear from the road). I looked around the empty station and I couldn’t help, but imagine myself as an alternate version of little Anne of Green Gables sitting outside the Bright River station waiting for Matthew Cuthbert’s arrival. I had to laugh at the absurdity of the entire day and the funny picture I surely painted to the world around me. It wasn’t a long wait before the taxi arrived. While the two and a half hour bus ride to the police post had cost me $16 Fijian Dollars, the fifteen minute drive to the hotel added up to $13. I realized it’s going to take more time to adjust to currency and costs in Fiji. The Fiji Marriot Resort in Momi Bay has been open since 2017. The land it sits on is entirely reclaimed land. This means that the area used to be just ocean, but it has been built-up with dry ground into a manmade peninsula and lagoon that connects to the Momi Bay (a part of the South Pacific Ocean). The resort has private hotel rooms, over-water bungalows, and where I stayed, beachside bures (wood-and-straw huts similar to cabins). The bure I stayed in sat right along the blue lagoon filled with fish, stingrays, crabs and warm, blue ocean water. After arriving at the resort and meeting up with my friends, I looked back and felt relieved at the help I had received. My landlord’s uncle had called me three times during the trip to check on me. And though I didn’t speak to him, I knew Jesoni had been calling around and making sure I was where I needed to be. The trip wasn’t that complicated, but my low self-confidence definitely contributed towards the doubts and fears I felt throughout. Looking back now, I am reminded of the truth that God always knows where I am no matter where I find myself on Earth (or in space—you never know!). All in all, I spent four days at Momi Bay on the western side of Viti Levu. My upstairs neighbors and the family of one of my middle school drama students were there also. It was so nice to have some alone time during the day before enjoying dinner together in the evenings. My favorite activities during my stay were running along their walking paths and trails (with no worry of being chased by stray dogs or breaking an ankle in a pothole), eating food I didn’t have to cook for myself (such a nice feeling), and swimming in the lagoon. It was a relaxing getaway and I loved being able to take naps, swim, and spend hours in the sun. I very intentionally had not taken my laptop, so it was also a work-free zone. A break from the computer screen felt great after two terms of teaching online an another in my future. While the resort was running on limited staff, everyone was so friendly. They learned our names right away and greeted us warmly whenever we interacted. This is the Fijian friendliness I think everyone talks about, though it’s part of their job, it feels genuine. Another really fun thing was that the resort during our weekday stay was filled to less than 20% capacity, so the entire time I was there I almost felt like I was vacationing with the entire resort to myself (on my own in a good way, not the stuck at home in isolation kind of alone). The resort aspect was fancy and fun, but I learned it’s not really my “thing” or “style” of a holiday getaway. I’m very thankful I did it and experienced Fiji’s resort life, but to be honest, parts of it felt overrated. Infinity pools and golf cart valets to and from the resort restaurant are not the kind of adventure I look for in travel. Every day the things I most looked forward to included, walking off the paved trails to find hidden coves and patches of untouched coastline. I reveled in seeing how far out into the lagoon I could swim, keeping an eye out for any fish, sea urchins, or other creatures living in the water. At night, I loved sitting back and looking at the bright and colorful starry sky or walking along the beach with a flashlight spotting stingrays hunting for crabs in the shallows. How small my struggles are when reflected against the grandness of God’s creation. The exploration and connection with the natural beauty surrounding helps me feel closest to the Lord. In conclusion, I heartily enjoyed my resort stay in Momi Bay. I’m thankful for the time there, but I don’t feel like I have do it again. Resorts aren’t the real Fiji. I write that knowing that the “real Fiji”, like any country, is a lot more challenging to take on as an expat. I have a feeling that getting to know the real Fiji will also be more fulfilling and meaningful. With the internal borders opening up, I feel a bit more positive that I will perhaps have the opportunity to get out of the house, explore, reflect, and engage with the places, people, and experiences God has intended for me. PRAYER REQUESTS
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