In Suva, the capital city on the island of Viti, the National Museum’s handwritten expedition-logs outlined perilous dangers of the Cannibal Isles. Its artifacts included a sail shunting outrigger, shell jewelry, beautiful wooden bowls…and decorative cannibal forks. On neighboring island of Ovalau, a Lord Mayor guided us through heritage Levuka, Fiji’s lawless first capital where fifty-two bawdy saloons and grog shops once sprawled along Beach Street in the South Pacific’s infamous ‘black-birding’ center.

In the island cluster of the Mamanucas, sun-drenched days overflowed with idyllic beach life: snorkeling crystalline waters, searching out elusive birds along lush trails and sipping tropical drinks while lovo-dinners slowly roasted in earth-ovens. Cast adrift during the notorious Mutiny on the Bounty, it was Captain William Bligh who first charted these once treacherous waters.

Our whirlwind Fijian discovery tour wound up on long, flat mangrove-bordered Naisali Island, a short boat-shuttle off mainland Viti Levu where taxi-touring around Nadi provided terrific sightseeing: glistening bullocks plowing cassava plots; smiling women in floral sulus selling sweet oranges from road-side stands and loaded sugarcane trains puffing laboriously along narrow tracks criss-crossing the highway. In Garden of the Sleeping Giant founded by Raymond Burr of Perry Mason fame, thousands of flamboyant orchids flourish amid acres of luxuriant plantings just ten minutes from downtown.

A spur-of-the-moment daytrip took us to a wharf in Navua and onward to Nukusere Village, twenty-miles upriver through rapids, gorges and waterfalls. There, a hundred-and-fifty people followed the old ways in thatched bures, subsistence farming, rafting vegetables to market on bamboo-bilibilis, cooking over open fires, hand-washing dishes and laundry.

The hereditary Chief warmly greeted us in the thatched meetinghouse before solemnly performing an ages-old welcome ritual, the kava ceremony. A pepper plant relative, yaqona-root is pounded, put into cloth bags, infused with water and squeezed into a carved wooden tanoa-bowl. Although the drink looked a kind of muddy brown our guide had warned that it was rude to refuse the first kava bilo, but that too much of the mild narcotic numbs mouths…or causes sound sleeps. Sitting in a traditional circle with the Chief, we received coconut-shell-cups of kava, called out “Bula,” gulped it down and quickly clapped three times more, according to custom. My hubby swore he felt his tongue tingle.

Walking above the river, we visualized the olden days when shell trumpets rallied men to battle or villagers to fish. Today, chickens, dogs and young children run freely throughout the village. Along a narrow path, a smiling elder invited me to see her bure. “I’m a widow,” Vhorina tells me. “I live in this house with my son’s family… come in…. and maybe take my picture?”

Leaving shoes outside, I entered a bright spacious room. Vibrant sulus draped the walls; woven mats covered the floors. Along one end, lovely handcrafted quilts covered comfy-looking canopied beds; at the opposite end stood cooking utensils, dishes and straw brooms. It felt just like a cozy holiday cabin to me.

Back outside, young moms busied themselves with handicrafts for local markets while watching toddlers play. “Carved masks and necklaces…ver-r-r-ry popular,” smiled one woman. “Lottsa interest in four-pronged cannibal forks,” chuckled another.

On woven mats back at the meetinghouse we shared typical foods scooped from wooden platters: fish steamed in coconut milk, lovo chicken, taro leaves layered with coconut cream, sweet potatoes, ripe pineapple and freshly squeezed orange juice. Eating with our fingers proved great fun. Cassava root-chunks became my favorite…until a toothless matron beamed, “Too much o’ dat will make ya’ fat!”

Dressed in sulus and grass skirts village boys earnestly demonstrated Fijian folk-dances while musicians chanted, joyously hammering out traditional rhythms on small, wooden slit-drums. In the end, we joined elbows and danced side-by-side with the villagers before trekking back to Nadi-town.

Later that night, string-band-island-rhythms floated on perfumed breezes around the pool. Sipping turquoise, pink and apple green cocktails, we chitchatted about the magic of Fiji’s warm, friendly people.

With new friends, we drifted toward elegant tables set on white sugar-sands amid blazing tiki-torches. Under stately palms, uniformed chefs stood behind brazier-banks, poised to parade sizzling delicacies our way. Surprising satays, local seafood, lamb and root-vegetables kept everyone busily savouring, munching and licking their fingers. Effusive toasts and rollicking hilarity launched new rounds as perfect wines splashed smoothly into goblets: crisp Rieslings tempered spicy tidbits; aromatic Pinot Noirs followed cold, refreshing Chardonnays…

Suddenly, six dramatically painted warriors burst into our high-spirited midst. Gesturing fiercely and hollering menacingly, they waved carved war-clubs and spears into the air. Languidly spieling off eloquent wine descriptors just moments before, gals squealed and shrieked mightily, “ Oh, m’gawd! Lookit ’em! Is it cannibals?” Guys grunted, “What the H----?” Our hostess shouted, “Grab your shoes; bring all belongings! None of you will be back here tonight!”

Briskly hustled and herded along darkened, uneven pathways, they stuffed us into a derelict van covered-over with thick jungle vines. Amidst confusion and mayhem, we rode into the darkness. A lifetime of jostling and wailing later, the bus abruptly stopped. Disheveled, we reeled into a pitch-black room not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Flaming torches gradually illuminated a ceremonial bure where tables of beautiful desserts and specialty coffees awaited, uniformed pastry-chefs grinning broadly at our dazed astonishment.

“ First,” declared our hostess, “Let’s sample some dessert shooters!” Relieved cheers erupt as we scrambled for plush-cushioned rattan chairs…and restrooms! Meanwhile, our ‘captors’ transformed into handsome, grass-skirted dancers. “I knew we weren’t REALLY kidnapped,” confided my hubby, but hey, it was real enough for me!

On this incredible day, two encounters had revealed Fiji’s essence. Remote mountain-village life disclosed authentic tradition and charm; our merry evening’s entertainment had interpreted Fiji’s earliest customs. These fun-loving Fijian people…and their bula-bula hospitality…remain profound memories.

If you’d like your own Bula, Bula holidays: Fiji Tourism is a great place to start. Air Pacific has non-stop flights from Los Angeles to Fiji and inter-island connections to Fiji’s new capital Suva, and fascinating old capital Levuka.

Blue Lagoon Cruises offers 3,4 and 7 day sails into the Bligh Channel to the white sand beaches of the Mamanucas and Yasawas. Their seven-day northern historic-cultural odysseys occur four times annually. South Sea Cruises’ stable catamarans link the main island, Viti Levu, with the most popular of Fiji’s 320+ islands. Rosie Holidays offers a range of excursions including transportation to the Garden of the Sleeping Giant and up river visit package to Nukusere. Sonaisali Resort is a well located five star property, which provides kayaks, bike boats, snorkel/dive trips to neighboring islands, sunset champagne cruises, colorful paint-ball games as well as pirate and cannibal themed evenings. First Landing is a comfortable, convenient and wonderfully traditional resort situated where the first Melanesians landed on Fiji. Near the cruise terminal, it’s a perfect place to start your South Sea Islands adventures.

A much-traveled freelance writer/photographer, Chris Millikan lives near Vancouver, BC on Canada’s beautiful west coast. A former teacher and elementary school administrator, she now presents the joys of travel as an inviting ‘curriculum’…when not prancing around the world with writer/photographer hubby Rick in search of zany, cultural and historic adventures off the beaten track. A member in good standing & Vice President of the BC Association of Travel Writers, her stories appear regularly in syndicated BC Newspapers, In-flight magazines, community newspapers and occasionally the Vancouver Sun and Province. Contact her at millikan@ axion.net

© 2008

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