Coconut Wireless

A Peace Corps Volunteer's Adventures in the South Pacific

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Dogs of Fiji

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Tendencies Toward Violence

At this point, I’m sure we’re all familiar with Elliot Rodger and the shooting at UC Santa Barbara, triggered, ostensibly by the shooter’s desire to seek retribution against a group of women, if not the entire sex of women, he believed owed him their attention and attraction. The New York Times’ most recent article on the subject, “Why Can’t Doctors Identify Killers?” explores the problematic conflation of violence and mental illness that has pervaded coverage of the slaughter. Mental illness does not predispose people to violence, and yet articles and commentary continue to circulate positing direct connections between the two. Richard A. Friedman writes, “Large epidemiologic studies show that psychiatric illness is a risk factor for violent behavior, but the risk is small and linked only to a few serious mental disorders. People with schizophrenia, major depression or bipolar disorder were two to three times as likely as those without these disorders to be violent. The actual lifetime prevalence of violence among people with serious mental illness is about 16 percent compared with 7 percent among people who are not mentally ill.” As the article stipulates, not only is the supposed correlation between mental illness and violence inaccurate and damaging to public perceptions of mental illnesses—these events and attitudes also have repercussions throughout the world. As a First World country, whether we deserve it or not, we serve as a model to Third World and developing countries. Instead of setting a good example and precedent of how to deal with acts of violence, as well as proper treatment and understanding of various psychological states, we are presenting harmful and dangerous models of the mind and public peace.

            Part of the Peace Corps volunteer’s role in country is to foster a better understanding of America abroad, partially to counteract the negative attitudes and perceptions of the United States. Ever since arriving in Fiji, I’ve had to dispel some very unsettling misconceptions about the US. I’ve been asked on several occasions whether everyone in America owns a gun and what it’s like to live in such a “violent” country. There is something deeply ironic and disturbing about these questions, especially when they are posed by residents of a country with a history of cannibalism, police brutality, ethnic warfare and violent military coups as recently as 2001. To many Fijians, America is a far more dangerous, anarchic place than Fiji, a country run by a military dictatorship. These foreign conceptions of America, though informed largely by Hollywood movies and sensationalized international media, are not, however, occurring within a void—as The Onion, Slate, Flavorwire, the Twitter trend #YesAllWomen, and many others have pointed out, we have had a string of violent massacres in a country that is supposed to espouse peace and protect its citizens from harm or terror.

            As I’ve written about before (see Mental Health and Mental Illness in Fiji), the Fijian health care system and its practitioners are also struggling with newly introduced, Western concepts of mental health and psychological models of the mind. During my conversations with the nurses at my site about their patients with mental illnesses, whom they glibly refer to as their “mental cases,” the nurses all seem to lack a basic understanding of the differences between epilepsy and schizophrenia. Yet, as if to allay my fears or assert their expertise, many of the nurses are quick to assure me, “But they’re not violent,” as if all patients with mental illness have, are or are prone to violence. When I was visiting a local boarding school for secondary students with the health team, I noticed a sign outside the dispensary, where a lock had apparently been stolen. The sign condemned the theft and indicated that such an act of robbery is “a sign of mental illness,” espousing that criminality is similarly connected to mental illness. According to this framework, Fijians generally consider people with mental illness to be criminal and violent.

            These attitudes stigmatize an already stigmatized, misunderstood and underrepresented community, in Fiji and elsewhere. Rather than generating sympathy and support, equating violence with mental illness propagates further distrust and enmity towards people who desperately want treatment and care, while obscuring or ignoring the larger machinations and structural factors that produce and permit ongoing acts of violence. Patriarchal attitudes that objectify and sexualize women, while perpetuating damaging stereotypes of masculinity and how masculinity should be performed vis-à-vis cultural attitudes about femininity and private vs. public roles of gender, create societies in which violence against women has become normalized. According to the Fiji Women’s Crisis Center report “Somebody’s Life, Everybody’s Business!”,

                        Fiji’s rates of violence against women and girls are among the very highest in the world

64 % of women who have ever been in an intimate relationship have experienced physical and/or sexual violence by a husband or intimate partner in their lifetime, and 24% are suffering from physical or sexual partner violence today […] Overall, 72% of ever-partnered women experienced physical, sexual or emotional violence from their husband/partner in their lifetime, and many suffered from all 3 forms of abuse simultaneously. (2013:2)

  We need to confront culturally entrenched attitudes toward gender and misogyny. Some incredible articles written by both men and women about how misogyny kills confront the fact that many Americans do not want to acknowledge the way we are hobbled and damaged by problematic gender stereotypes. This is an opportunity to create a larger discussion and promote a global movement that changes the way we think and talk about gender, mental health and violence. Without a healthy model of the mind and treatment of mental health, dangerous misconceptions and prejudices about mental illness are going to be reproduced around the world. There is a ripple effect to how we talk about and respond to these events and we as a country need to recognize the repercussions our actions have not only domestically, but globally as well. How can I serve as an ambassador of American culture when the very problems I see acted out in Fijian daily culture has horrible resonances in my own country?

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Wang-Mu had been glad enough to leave Path. But she was by no means certain that Pacifica was the world where she wanted to live the rest of her life. Especially if she was to stay with Peter, for there was no chance he would be content for long with the slower, more lackadaisical timeflow of life in the islands. Truth be known, it was too slow for her, too. She loved her time with the Samoans, but the impatience to be doing something was growing inside her. Perhaps those who grew up among these people might somehow sublimate their ambition, or perhaps there was something in the racial genotype that suppressed it or replaced it, but Wang-Mu's incessant drive to strengthen and expand her role in life was certainly not going to go away just because of a luau on the beach, however much she enjoyed it and would treasure the memory of it.

Children of the Mind, Orson Scott Card

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Helpful Links on Health in Fiji and the NCD Crisis in the South Pacific

  “Binge Eating and Binge Eating Disorder in a Small-Scale, Indigenous Society: The View From Fiji,” Anne Becker et al. Int J Eat Disord (2003): http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/14566929

“Cultural Elaborations of Obesity: Fattening Practices in Pacific Societies,” Nancy J. Pollock, Asia Pacific Journal of Clinical Nutrition (1995): http://apjcn.nhri.org.tw/server/apjcn/4/4/357.htm

“Diet, Food Supply and Obesity in the South Pacific,” World Health Organization (2003): http://www.wpro.who.int/publications/docs/diet_food_supply_obesity.pdf

“Diet of Pacific Islanders,” Nutrition and Well-Being from A to Z: http://www.faqs.org/nutrition/Ome-Pop/Pacific-Islanders-Diet-of.html

“Imported Foods, Obesity, and Health in French Polynesia,” Sustainability in Polynesian Island Cultures and Ecosystems: http://www.sea.edu/spice_atlas/food_atlas/imported_foods_obesity_and_health_in_french_polynesia

“Mental Health Workers’ Attitudes Toward Mental Illness in Fiji,” Kim Foster et al. Australian Journal of Advanced Nursing: http://researchonline.jcu.edu.au/8961/

“Overweight in the Pacific: Links Between Foreign Dependence, Global Food Trade, and Obesity in the Federated States of Micronesia,” Susan Cassels, Globalization and Health (2006): http://www.globalizationandhealth.com/content/2/1/10

“Pacific Islanders Pay Heavy Price for Abandoning Traditional Diet,” World Health Organization: http://www.who.int/bulletin/volumes/88/7/10-010710/en/

“Perceptions of Body Size in Pacific Islanders,” A. A. Brewis et al. Int J Obes Relat Metab Disord. (1998).

“The Evolution of Primary Health Care in Fiji: Past, Present and Future,” Joel Negin et al. Health Policy and Health Finance Knowledge Hub (2010): http://ni.unimelb.edu.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0010/542449/wp6.pdf

“The Obesity Epidemic in the Pacific Islands,” Michael Curtis, Journal of Development and Social Transformation: https://www.maxwell.syr.edu/uploadedFiles/moynihan/dst/curtis5.pdf?n=3228

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"So while FIJI Water rakes in millions of dollars off misleading marketing, what do the citizens of Fiji receive in exchange for hosting them? Not much at all, unfortunately. A 2009 expose from Mother Jones goes into great detail about the political issues involved with FIJI Water’s presence here. Most notable (though it’s portrayed a bit histrionically in that article) is the fact that a large fraction of Fijians do not have access to clean water, with outbreaks of typhoid and leptospirosis occurring frequently during the rainy season. Fortunately, improvements have been made thanks to awareness events and water-system upgrades done by AusAID, Peace Corps, and the like. At one event we put on in Rakiraki I actually got to meet a certain “director of operations” from FIJI Water. When I asked him if the company was involved in funding any water-improvement projects, he tersely replied, “No, we don’t do that”.

He must have been new or something, because FIJI Water actually funnels at least a million dollars annually into an NGO called “Rotary Pacific Water For Life Foundation”. Again, this seems laudable on the surface, until you actually look into the results of this investment. Many PCVs, including myself, have approached them about funding for small village water projects, and all have been denied. The usual excuse is that they are back-logged with 100+ projects they must give priority to. I’ve seen the outcomes of some of these projects. At one primary school near Rakiraki town, their attempt at digging a bore-hole caused a crack in the school’s septic tank, and there is now a noticeable human-waste odor emanating from the river below the school. At another school farther into the interior, Rotary Pacific spent about $40,000 improving the school’s water system. However, apparently through some combination of nepotism and incompetence, most of the school's new water source got diverted to a few houses on a hill above the school, leaving the children without clean water most of the day. The bottle on the left shows what the students are stuck with instead."

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Hello! My husband and I have just accepted an invitation to serve in Fiji beginning this September. Your blog seems like a great resource - thanks! I hope you are well and maybe we'll cross paths at some point... Carly

glad that my blog has served as a good resource--that was my hope for future pcv's. good luck with all the preparations!

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Be Prepared: Things to Consider as a Peace Corps Fiji Volunteer

Weight: For the first two months, you’ll do your Pre-service Training with a homestay family in a village. This family gets a stipend to take care of and feed you, but you will have very little control over what you eat and how often you eat. Your diet will be entirely dependent on your homestay family. You want to be as gracious as possible, considering that your family is willing to take on additional work for your benefit, and being a picky eater is simply not an option. Refusing food is considered extremely culturally rude and could be considered offensive to your family. You can negotiate certain dietary restrictions, and use your status as a health volunteer to talk about some of the health benefits of certain foods above others, but you should be prepared for whatever food options your family prepares for you. Each family has their own cooking niches—my family preferred lumi (seaweed) and lots of boiled fish, with limited vegetables (mainly cabbage). You may be extremely well fed or on the verge of starvation most of the time. Worrying about your weight, whether or not you’ve lost or gained pounds, is counterproductive and to a certain extent a feckless activity, especially since your body will be under an enormous amount of stress from the transition. You’ll likely have stomach problems or what we refer to as “the double dragon” and your weight will fluctuate from week to week depending on your food and your health. Most traditional Fijian food is carb-heavy and relatively unhealthy, usually fried or cooked in lots of oil or coconut. Fijians will also frequently comment on your weight, so it’s useful to build up a thick skin. While it’s important to stay healthy and strong, and demonstrate healthy eating practices, you must also recognize that you are a guest and that part of the Peace Corps experience is understanding what it’s like to eat for the calories sometimes, rather than the taste. You’ll be able to have more control over your diet once you move to site, but try to take each meal as it comes and not worry so much about whether you’re getting a little levulevu.

Skin: The climate in Fiji just doesn’t work for a lot of people’s skin. The humidity and the heat mean that cuts and scrapes don’t heal very quickly, and even if they don’t become infected, they often scar. For the first couple of weeks (or in my case, the first couple of months), your skin is going to be constantly covered in mosquito bites. Bug spray is going to be your new best friend, not only because Dengue is a problem here, but also because untreated bites can lead to boils or abscesses, which are really uncomfortable skin infections. I only shave irregularly because shaving can irritate your skin and exacerbate cuts on the verge of becoming infected. Trust me, you don’t want an armpit abscess. You’re also going to break out a lot because of all the sweating. Be prepared for Fijians to point out your new crop of pimples and acne. The Peace Corps office should have some face washes to help with acne, but it’s also something you’re just going to learn to have to live with. Try to keep as clean as possible, but this might be difficult if you don’t know where your water is coming from or you don’t have a consistent source of clean water. Explore the beautiful Fijian scenery but also be careful when you go through streams and waterfalls, as they might be polluted. Many volunteers have gotten rashes or the “Fiji fungus” from contaminated water that mottles your skin and can spread all over your back and arms. For those of fair skin, bring high SPF and waterproof sunscreen. They provide SPF 30 at the office, but that might not be sufficient, especially if you spend a lot of time in the sun and you can’t wear hats or any other protective covering in the village.

Exercise: Your exercise routine (if you have one) is going to change. Don’t expect that you can just carry the same exercises you did at home to Fiji. Running on the roads can be dangerous, both due to the road conditions and the recklessness of the drivers that sometimes swerve to pretend to hit passersby. It’s also not safe to travel places by yourself, especially if you are a woman. If you want to go for walks or runs, try to find a local friend or PCV to go with you, but also recognize that many Fijians don’t exercise for the sake of health. You might also encounter some unwanted attention when you exercise as well, since it’s such a rarity. For girls, long board shorts and a dry fit t-shirt are best, especially shorts with pockets, so you can carry your phone, a whistle and extra money in case something unexpected happens. When they see someone walking or running, Fijians will ask what you are “training” for. During the hot season, it might also be your worst nightmare to exercise, not only because it’s so damn hot, but also due to risks like heat stroke or dehydration. Bringing exercise videos might be useful, as you can exercise in your own house at your own pace. These will also be helpful if you want to teach exercise classes to Fijians. Again, however, you have to remember that exercise or physical activity is still a relatively new concept to Fijians. Many conduct daily manual labor that keeps them active, like farming, fishing or cleaning the house, but the correlation between exercise and health may still be confusing. If you want to teach an exercise class to your new Fijian community, start slow and begin with the basics. Don’t try to introduce them to anything too high intensity unless they ask for it. I have found that Zumba is a really good option, since it’s ostensibly dancing and makes exercise seem more fun. Many women feel embarrassed about exercising, even when among friends, and they might make a joke out of the exercises to hide their embarrassment, by making fun of others or trying to disrupt others’ engagement. Try not to get frustrated if you’re trying to teach Vinyasa Yoga and they spend the whole time giggling about the downward dog. Bringing along a yoga mat (for any yogis out there) will be helpful not only for your practice, but for sleepover scenarios as well to add a little extra padding. You’ll eventually find a rhythm to your days and you’ll spend a lot of time walking different places, but remember that flexibility is the most important thing about your service, and this most certain applies to your practice and attitudes toward physical fitness.

Privacy: You aren’t going to have a lot of privacy or alone time during your service, unless you live in a town (government quarters) or a city, and even in a city you might be constantly hosting guests and visiting PCV’s. During your homestay experience, you will either be constantly surrounded by other PCV’s and PC staff or your homestay family and local village community. Even if you’re going to visit a PCV at a neighboring house, you’ll be escorted there by a family member and always have at least one Fijian chaperoning your time. Boys and girls are not allowed to hang out one-on-one, so your interactions with the opposite sex will be constantly mediated. Even if you’re given your own room at your homestay house, you can’t really just go in for some private time unless it’s bedtime. The house is a communal space and Fijians, as a communal society, prefer company to solitude. Things are rarely considered private here. At your site, you will likely constantly have visitors and guests.  A huge part of a Peace Corps’ job is social interaction and being with your community as much as possible. These social relationships are really the backbone of your service, but they also mean that you won’t have much quiet time to yourself. Children are unabashedly curious and may start to think of your house as theirs as well. Even if you’re in your bedroom with your curtains shut, neighbors may call in to say Bula or kids may peek in to see what you’re doing. As probably the only American they’ve ever seen or met, you will be under constant scrutiny and a perpetual source of curiosity. If you want certain time to yourself, you will have to set boundaries and negotiate your privacy with your community.

Scrutiny: Peace Corps is both professional and personal—your personal life is your professional life and you have to be on 24/7. Even if you’ve been living in a town for 6 months, the children will still chase after you shouting “Kaivulagi! Kaivulagi!” and Fijians will still ask where you’re going, as if you’re a lost tourist. You will be watched constantly. Everything that you do will be observed. Sometimes you’ll feel like King Kong after being brought to New York for his first exhibition—like a strange, wild spectacle people feel they have the right to stare at. Children are more unabashed when it comes to staring—I once spent a 3-hour bus ride being stared down by a small child that never seemed to blink. When you go out, everything about what you do, how you speak and what you wear will be analyzed. People will also talk about what you do and gossip in what’s locally called the coconut wireless. It can be extremely exhausting constantly putting on your best public self and feeling like you can never relax because you’re always being watched. Hopefully, as people start to get to know you, the heat of their gaze won’t be so intense, but don’t be surprised if you feel like an amoeba specimen squashed beneath the lens of a microscope.

Beauty: I don’t know how much this applies to guys, but as a woman, I have never felt more unattractive than I do here. I don’t shave my armpits anymore because of abscesses and my hairy legs are covered in boils scars and bug bites. My hair never behaves and I always have a small scattering of pimples on my chin (I feel like I’m going through puberty again). You won’t wear makeup anymore. I don’t even remember how to put on eyeliner. You’ll sweat constantly, so even if you’re in a relatively cute outfit, sweat stains, mud and ants will likely ruin it. You’ll always have sweat stains and your clothes may smell faintly musty and moldy, even after you’ve washed them. No matter how much sleep you get, you’re going to feel constantly tired for at least your first six months of service, and it’s going to show in your face. You’ll probably gain weight and the long skirts and blouses may not feel particularly flattering. Fijians have a tendency to blithely point out all of these flaws in observation, so you’ll be reminded of them (even if you don’t have a mirror at home). When I invited some local teenagers into my house to see some pictures from home, they saw what I looked like in the States and proclaimed, “Wow! You look sooooooo different,” not in the most complimentary of tones. You aren’t going to feel pretty. You’re not going to worry as much about your looks as you might have back in the States, but you’ll stumble across tourists and marvel at how clean and put-together they look. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to walk out of the house and feel like I look good.

  These things are neither positive nor negative, but rather important things to consider in preparation for being a PCV. No matter where we came from in the United States, we have certain opportunities, preferences, prejudices and ways of doing things that we may not realize or take for granted that are not available to Fijians, as citizens in a developing country. An important step in Peace Corps life is recognizing your own privilege and learning how most of the rest of the world lives. It clarifies desires vs. needs and distills what are the true essentials to live, both financially and spiritually. Your personality and sense of identity are necessarily going to change, considering how much your way of life and way of interacting with people is going to shift. But it’s also an important opportunity for you to consider what really matters to you and the things that you really need to live a happy life, whether socially, emotionally or otherwise. It’s an opportunity to grow into something new, or discover things about yourself you wouldn’t have otherwise unveiled. 

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Ways You Know You're a Peace Corps Fiji Volunteer

Ants have eaten all your best underwear.

You have at least one good poop story.

You’ve lost or gained at least fifteen pounds.

It’s considered a successful day if you come home without visible sweat stains.

You never travel anywhere without an extra Tupperware container, handiwipes and toilet paper.

You’re convinced you’re going bald, have some kind of lingering parasite, or a skin condition. Or all three at once.

You plan your trips away from site around how many free meals you can scavenge.

Activities like grocery shopping or doing laundry are considered daylong chores.

You've started to refer to people as "lewa."

You have calluses on your ankles from sitting cross-legged at grog sessions so much.

You’ve mastered the art of eating boiled fish without swallowing (too many) bones.

You’ve started to name the cockroaches and rats that live in your house.

You want to start your own animal shelter for all the abused animals you see. Sometimes you consider stealing puppies.

You treat every month like No-Shave November.

You get excited when you order something with chicken and it doesn’t have bones shrapnel in it.

You’ve spent an entire week eating nothing but bananas and peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.

You can’t remember what it feels like to be cold. Or clean.

You've eaten the entire contents of your care package in one sitting. 

You count every single 20 cent coin and haggle every dollar you can at the market.

You have a secret stash of NCD-unfriendly snacks you eat on stressful days.

Professional business wear is bula shirts and sulu jabas.

Your immediate response to everything is “Vinaka vakalevu.”

It’s been so long since you’ve seen a white person that you stare and whisper “Kaivulagi” every time you see a tourist.

Every time you hear a new American song, you imagine what the Island Remix will sound like.

Diarrhea and vomiting are normal topics of conversation.

You’re tired of telling people that you don’t know Justin Bieber.

You can play connect the dots with your boils and/or centipede bite scars.

You’re impressed by things like good water pressure, hot showers and electricity.

The main adjective you use to describe things with is “plenty.”

When you sneak onto resorts, you secretly hope a nice tourist will buy you one of the fancy drinks that costs as much as two weeks groceries.

At night, you actually pray that the bed bugs don’t bite.

Eating bugs no longer phases you.  

You gamble with death every time you ride public transportation. 

And most of the time, you're just like: 

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“ Set to the evocative single “Reaction” by producer IAMNOBODI and featuring JMSN, this music video focuses on how everyday individuals can help break cycles of violence by refusing to be silent...

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Kana Mai: Food in Fiji

The significance of food and eating practices in the South Pacific has a long and rich history. Many indigenous rituals and important cultural traditions that solidify kinship networks and reify community cohesion and hierarchies revolve around food. Anne Becker, a medical anthropologist at Harvard, has written about the relationship between food and care in Fiji, noting in her ethnography Body, Self and Society: A View from Fiji how, “The Fijian core emphasis on expression of care (best represented in the local idiom of vikawaitaki), is concretized in formal exchange, feast preparation, and routine food sharing in the community” (5). It is customary, when you travel anywhere in Fiji as a guest or visitor, for the host village to prepare food, as a demonstration both of their wealth as a community and their desire to care for and welcome you. Whether these food preparations are cakes and fruits for morning or afternoon tea, or a complete lunch or dinner, Fijians are always careful to cook an overabundance of food for their guests. The surfeits of dalo, cassava, curry and rourou signal both the South Pacific value for having a heavier, more robust frame as a sign of good health, and the social responsibility to care for the needs of your guest, no matter how vast. As Becker observes, “Just as there is a vested interest in creating an impression of abundance at the magisi, householders are equally concerned that their food supply meet extraneous demands. This is reflected in their habit of cooking extraordinarily excessive quantities of food, especially root crops, which are later fed to pigs if uneaten by household members or guests. Heaps of plantains, yams, taro and/or cassava are peeled and boiled for routine meals, but rarely finished. A woman observed that ‘in some homes, food is a problem, that is disgraceful…the most important thing is that we have enough food’ either to feed to one’s family or to contribute to mataqwali functions. She continued that to fall short of food during a meal constitutes the ultimate social disgrace” (69).

In more recent research conducted on the obesity epidemic in Fiji, Becker writes, “a number of cultural traditions strongly support robust appetites and body shapes, including local norms that encourage hearty consumption of relatively calorie-dense foods, esthetic ideals favoring robust bodies, the centrality of food presentation and feasts as facilitators of social exchange and networks, and local illness categories that formalize vigilance for weight or appetite loss” (2005:111). Due to the communal structure of Fijian society and the large size of families, households must always be prepared to offer food to passersby or visiting cousins. In return, the guests are expected to consume large quantities of food—both to demonstrate their own health and their appreciation for the food that has been prepared for them. Some of these eating practices have changed in response to the influence of Western media and the current health concerns of obesity and non-communicable diseases, but men and women alike still generally consume large quantities of food at both lunch (vakasigalevu) and dinner (vakayakavi), expecting those around them to do the same.

In my experience, women typically prepare the food, cooking multiple bowls of ota in miti, fried fish and mounds of root crops so that their guests and visitors can eat multiple helpings. Not eating large portions of the offered food is considered rude or to be a sign of illness. Before you can eat, there are also a number of rituals the guests must first perform. The leader of the host group, or the person of the highest status in the group (whether due to clan lineage or a senior professional position) must bless the food by touching the pots and pans in which the food was prepared, followed by a prayer in thanks to the hosts. The hosts and guests must gather in a collective masu or prayer, thanking the host community for the food and offering the food to God/Turaga/Kalou as well. When visiting communities you have never visited before, it’s also important to bring yaqona (the highly valued root that is made into kava or grog) to present as a sevu-sevu to the chief or Turaganikoro, an elected representative for the village. It is important to be aware of the social hierarchies that dictate and imbue eating practices here. It is considered exceptionally rude and potentially socially ruinous to start eating before the people of higher rank than you or before all the rituals have been performed. The smartest thing to do, despite a growling stomach, is to defer to the older men and women in your group and wait for their signal before you start to serve yourself.

Meals are usually taken on the ground. A cloth or sulu is typically laid out on top of the ibe/woven mats that cover the floors of most Fijian homes and community halls. Everyone gathers cross-legged on the ground—women must be careful that their knees are not exposed, with their legs are modestly tucked underneath sulus. Most Fijians eat with their hands, with two plates or bowls placed in front of them—one for their helping of food and one for the refuse of fish and chicken bones, orange peels and crab shells. These refuse plates may be shared between those sitting next to each other. The guests typically eat before the hosts; the women who cooked the food instead assume the role of warding off the persistent flies that buzz around the meals. These women will use fans or rags to create a steady current of air around the food in an attempt to keep fly contamination to a minimum, an important health task considering the prevalence of Typhoid and H. pylori in the country.

      Throughout the meal, guests and hosts alike invite one another emphatically to “kana mai” or “kana vakalevu,” meaning “Eat a lot, eat more.” These invitations are almost rhetorical statements, but also serve as ubiquitous dialogical markers meant to affirm charity and care for one another’s well being. If your plate is empty, they will point out “Dalo there,” or “More fish here,” not because these dishes weren’t accessible to you, but rather to nudge you into third or fourth helpings. These repetitions and reminders to eat can be seen as concern for the health of one another, encouraging the production of heavier, fatter body sizes. The meals draw the group together into a tightly knit unit bound by the mutual desire to be full of food and care between clans. This concern for one another’s health reflects the emphasis of community over individual in Fijian culture, where people are seen as dividuals, rather than individuals—representatives of their family, villages and large kinship circles, tied together through mutual bonds of responsibility and respect. The self, in these social scenarios, is more porous and readily shaped by community expectations and roles than societies that give precedence to the autonomous, independent individual.

Bowls of water are also distributed along the floor for their guests to rinse their hands after they’re done eating. If you want to excuse yourself, you have to first thank the hosts for the food and ask if you can take a rest: “Vinaka na kakana, kerekere vakacegu.” Only after the last guest has finished eating may the hosts partake of the food, and this is usually after deferring to the appetites of the men first, as men have a higher social status than women.

During our school health outreach trips, it is also common for the host communities to send us with parting gifts. The village may gather sugar cane, plantain, papaya, bananas, guava, passion fruit or moli for the guests to take home and share with their families. Food helps to solidify the bonds between villages and clans, create social ties and foster relationships between strangers. In fact, for many of our outreach trips, the meals are the most important component, solidifying and ensuring a future relationship with that community. Though food preparation in such large quantities tends to be labor intensive, it is also a great source of pride for the women who prepare it. It is almost a devotional practice, not unlike communion. You take their food into your body as a source of strength and faith in your relationship with one another.

  Typical Fijian Fare:

Dalo/taro: root crop that grows year round; root must be washed, peeled and then boiled before eating; usually marbled purple or gray in color; staple of Fijian diet—any meal will be served with at least one plate heaping with slices of dalo; increases testosterone and can lead to more masculine features in women (especially growth of facial hair)

Cassava/tavioka: root crop that grows year round; similar to dalo, cassava must first be peeled and boiled before eating; usually white or light yellow in color, stringy consistency; other staple starch of Fijian diet—typically Fijians prefer either dalo or cassava with their meals

Breadfruit/uto: seasonal starch that grows on trees; either boiled or cooked over an open fire; yellow in color, consistency lighter, softer and spongier than dalo or cassava; tends to have more flavor than other local starches

Fish in coconut milk/ika vakalolo: fish is usually either boiled in a broth of onions (varasa), cabbage and spinach (bele) or fried (tavoteketaka) in oil, usually with onions as well. Fish dishes are typically served in lolo, which is made my scraping brown coconut (bu), soaking the shavings in water, then squeezing the water our of the coconut shavings. Despite our love of coconut shavings back in the States, this excess coconut is actually given to the pigs and rarely eaten. Sometimes salt and citrus fruit (moli) is added to the lolo as well. Lolo tends to be delicious but high in fat content. Fish is served with the bones and usually the head and fins are still attached.

Palusami: traditional Fijian dish; can be made over an open fire or in a lovo (earth oven usually specially prepared for birthdays and other auspicious celebrations) which usually gives the food a smokey flavor; boiled rourou cooked in lolo; sometimes palusami is stuffed with shrimp, corned beef or fish as well

Ferns/ota: ferns found throughout Fiji; there are two kinds, both of which are edible; can be boiled or served raw; when boiled, the ota is usually served in lolo with onions, carrots, and chilies, as well as tinned fish or tuna.

Miti: lolo prepared with salt (masima), onions, tomatoes, citrus fruit (moli) and shredded carrots

Rourou: made from dalo leaves; leave have to be washed and boiled for at least 15-20 minutes. When preparing rourou, the cooks usually get itchy hands and if the rourou isn’t cooked for long enough, it can cause itchiness in the throat and mouth. Rourou can be served in a variety of ways—rourou vakalolo; rourou vakalolo with boiled eggs, onions and tomatoes; fried rourou patties in lolo; rourou vakalolo with tinned fish; rourou vakalolo with onions, tomatoes, carrots and kai; rourou is high in iron content

Mussels/kai: there are fresh and saltwater kai. These are usually cooked in lolo and added to rourou, ota or bundled into roti parcels.

Roti parcel: a favorite Fijian snack; comes from Indo-Fijian cooking tradition; roti (Indian tortilla) filled with chicken curry, potato curry, pumpkin curry, mixed vegetables, tinned fish or kai. “Vegetarian” roti parcels are usually just potato curry, sometimes with tinned tuna. Taste best with chutney, tamarind sauce or chilies for flavor.

Dhal: lentil bean cooked into soup with tomatoes, onions, carrots and any other vegetables available; one of healthier meal options available in Fiji

Plantain/vudi: seasonal; can be boiled before ripe and cut into slices as additional starch, or boiled when ripe to add to stir fry or soaked in sugar or lolo for dessert

Sweet potatoes/kumala: purple on the outside and wish on the inside tend to have less flavor than brown on the outside and orange on the inside variety; seasonal; orange kumala can also grow in fingerling sizes

Curry: traditional Indo-Fijian dish that has been incorporated into many iTaukei meals; usually cooked in lots of oil; if chicken is used, still contains bones—often called “chicken shrapnel”

Lumi: seaweed; cooked in lolo on a baking pan into gelatinous squares; salty with disquieting texture

Tahitian chestnuts/ivi: seasonal nut; high in vitamin C; must be boiled before eating; sold wrapped in leaves or plastic bags in most markets

Druka: seasonal food that grows similar to sugar cane; very little is known about its nutritional content; usually boiled in fish broth

Chop suey: Chinese dish that has also been incorporated into many Fijian meals; chicken or beef, carrot, cabbage and other vegetables cooked in copious amounts of oil and soy sauce

Eggplant/baigani: usually cooked into curries or fried with lolo and onions

Pumpkin/pumpukini: usually cooked into a curry; pumpkin leaves can also be boiled and cooked in lolo or fried

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In the opening scenes of Alan Toth’s new documentary Posh Corps, a Volunteer in South Africa gives a tour of his bathroom, including a flush toilet, bathtub, a

Peace Corps, Beach Corps, Posh Corps--what it means to be a PCV with "First World" amenities in a developing country and how we understand difficult, challenging work. 

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Four Reasons Why You Should NOT Hire a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer

Yes, you read that right: should not. Peace Corps used to have a saying: “At Peace Corps we are practical idealists.” Those kind of crazy ideas make Returned Peace Corps Volunteers terrible employe...

The ways in which Peace Corps trains you to question the status quo, over-communicate and place value on things many businesses and corporations take for granted.

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Peace Corps Fiji Packing List

Before coming to Fiji, I had no idea what I should bring. I trolled PCV blogs, talked to current PCV’s in Fiji, and relied on the wisdom of the staff at L.L. Bean, Out There Outfitters and any other adventure/outdoorsy store that seemed to have more wilderness savvy than I. I packed to the best of my abilities, and while I somehow managed to pack some useful things, I also packed a lot of superfluous items or things I could have bought much more cheaply in Fiji. The week before we all swore in, we finally got access to our second bag the office kept secreted away during our PST, and almost every volunteer lamented their packing, wishing that they could have gone back and done it differently. Perhaps some incoming volunteers may read this and use it to their advantage as they prepare to depart. I can only hope they don’t suddenly find their bags ten pounds overweight an hour before leaving for the airport like I did.

  Things To Bring To Fiji

A laptop: I know that a laptop is not a necessity, and many volunteers may take this opportunity to thoroughly disconnect from the Internet. But going to Internet cafes can be time consuming, tedious and eat up a lot of your money. For the first couple of months in site, you are going to be building relationships and developing programming ideas based off of needs assessment, but you are also going to have a hell of a lot of down time and having a computer may be a useful outlet for your boredom. You can use your computer to research projects or prepare materials for outreach programs. Having your own personal computer helps with homesickness, as it increases your ability to stay in contact with friends and family. You can use the computer to document your thoughts throughout service, archive your photographs, read books and watch movies and, quite honestly, maintain your sanity. Having a computer is also really useful when you have to fill out your Volunteer Report Form (VRF). You have to fill out this form every couple of months, and it takes several hours to complete, so having your own personal laptop to do it on saves a lot of time and hassle.

A quick dry towel: Things mold here quickly and wet towels can stay permanently wet in the humid atmosphere. Quick dry towels help with both problems and tend to be fairly small and portable. When you travel around, you’re going to want a towel that doesn’t make the rest of your bag wet and fits easily in a backpack.

Coffee: If you’re a coffee fiend like me, you’re going to want to bring your own to brew. Ground coffee is available in limited parts of Fiji and is often very expensive, even for things like instant coffee. Bringing your own coffee will save the hassle and keep you juiced throughout your long days. Packing a portable French press with your coffee would also be a good idea.

A pillow: The pillows in Fiji tend to be lumpy and uncomfortable. You can get nicer pillows at Comfort Home, but these can be pretty pricey. If you have a space bag and can shove your pillow in with everything else, a nice pillow from home is worth the space.

Tevas or Keens: I swear by my Tevas. Other PCV’s prefer Chaco’s, but my Tevas haven’t begun to show any wear and can be worn both to work and on a hike. The weather always threatens to storm at any minute and cloth and fabric break down really easily here. Even shoes labeled “waterproof” may only last a few months. If you want to hike and explore while in Fiji, you’ll be trekking through waterfalls and rivers, so sneakers just won’t work. Tevas are sturdy and reliable shoes that work perfectly in the Fiji climate.

An IPod/music listening device: You’re going to spend long hours on bumpy transportation, usually accompanied by island music. If you’re anything like me, these are the times you want to zone out and be in your own headspace. Having an IPod, as long as you don’t flash it around too much, helps to ease the hours in transit and forestall boredom. It can also be really useful if you want to put together an exercise class and need music (Fijians respond well to music), or simply want to fulfill one of the Peace Corps goals and share American music with your new Fijian counterparts.

Underwear, underwear and more underwear: Your underwear is going to start falling apart almost immediately. Forget about whether or not they’re cute or look like granny panties—you’re just going to be concerned whether you have a clean pair to wear that day. Quite apart from the humidity and mold, ants and other critters are attracted to soiled underwear, particularly women’s soiled underwear, and will eat away at the crotch until there’s nothing left. The underwear in Fiji is uncomfortable and unflattering, so pack as much as you can. Separate a pile of underwear and put it aside for the second year, so that you know you’ll have enough to tie you over until COS.

A travel backpack: It’s your decision how big you want this bag to be, but you are likely going to be spending weekends, if not weeks away from site, sometimes for training sessions or workshops, and sometimes just to visit other PCV’s at site. Rolling duffels or suitcases are cumbersome and mark you as a tourist. Your travel backpack should be able to comfortably fit: a sleeping bag or blanket, a towel, a pillow, toiletries, a change of clothes and a pair of shoes, with room to spare. Whenever you travel, you pick up things along the way—supplies from the Peace Corps office, books, groceries—so you’ll want a little extra space in case you pick up any charitable donations or splurges.

Board shorts: If you want to exercise or go to the beach, you are going to need board shorts that go to the knee. Although some parts of Fiji are less conservative than others, your Pre-Service Training will be held in a village and it’s always better to air on the side of modesty here. These board shorts will mean that you can comfortably exercise without offending the locals, and if you want to go for a swim anywhere that isn’t a resort, board shorts are a must. Board shorts aren’t easy to find for girls in the country, so find a buy a pair or two for yourself while you’re still in the States.

Mixed nuts, granola bars, dried fruit, etc: Any Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods fare you know and love that give you little boosts of energy throughout the day aren’t available in Fiji. You can get nuts, but they’re usually pre-salted or cost a small fortune. Granola bars are absent and dried fruit can also be pretty expensive. The flight to Fiji can be brutal and you’ll spend the first day in the country rushing around from place to place. You’ll be starving and these snacks will help sustain you during the whirlwind of activity. These snacks will also be important when you get to your home stay. It’s going to take a while to adjust to Fijian food and having a little stash of your own food from home will make sure that you don’t go to bed hungry.

Art Supplies: No matter what site you are assigned to, you’re going to spend the first couple of months with a lot of downtime. Although the Ministry of Health produces and distributes posters and pamphlets on a variety of health topics, the materials are often very information heavy and text dense, so Fijians rarely read them, especially if they aren’t comfortable with reading English. Visual aids can be extremely useful in communicating important health information, especially to communities with significant language barriers. Bringing art supplies will give you something to do in your down time and your staff will really appreciate the artistic support. Often times, making posters also serves as a good way to generate conversations with your staff, which is useful as you begin to build a community.

Kindle: You’re going to have a lot of free time and most volunteers use that time to read. The Peace Corps office has a pretty comprehensive library, but lugging around heavy books can be a hassle. You may be lucky enough to move into a house with its own personal library, but volunteers have hundreds of e-books they are willing to share and Kindles help with portability. You may find you’ve read more here than you have in your entire life, so having a library of hundreds of books on a small device will save your sanity and save you space when you travel.

External Hard-drive: Like I said, you’re going to spend a lot of time alone or bored. Depending on the kind of Peace Corps experience you want to have, and how you like to unwind, an external hard-drive may be a source of solace on lonely weekends or nights. You can store up favorite movies or television shows, which will not only serve as a form of entertainment, but you can also share them with your new host friends and community as a sort of artistic exchange. The hard-drive is also a useful back up in case your computer starts to malfunction, as is want to happen here, between the weather and the rampant viruses.

A sewing kit: Though you may find you have a local tailor or seamstress at your site, clothes, bags and other items have a tendency to fall apart or deteriorate fairly quickly in this country. Just this morning I pulled on a pair of long cargo pants, only to have the button pop off. It's useful to have some needles and thread on you for these kinds of simple-fix situations. 

Waterproof, travel wallet: Fiji is a relatively safe country, but robbery and pick pocketing does happen. Several volunteers have had money and electronics stolen at their site or when visiting the capital, Suva. The Safety and Security officer will advise that you distribute your money into several wallets and on different parts of your body, so that if someone takes your wallet, they don’t make off with all your cash and valuables. I have a waterproof wallet with a string attached so that I can wear it around my neck underneath my clothes. It can feel a little overprotective at times, but I feel much more secure traveling with larger sums of money. Many of the pickpockets in Suva slash your back, so wearing your money close to your chest is just a measure of extra security.

Locks: Speaking of extra security, when you travel to visit other volunteers or to training sessions/workshops for Peace Corps, you may be asked to bring your laptop. Often times, there is not enough room on the minibuses or buses for your giant backpack, so they’ll stow your bag under the bus. Locking the zippers on your bag will ensure that your valuables won’t be stolen and give you peace of mind. You can buy large locks in Fiji, but small travel locks will really help your security, especially if you carry most of your stuff in your backpack, which can be pretty easily stolen.

Snorkel gear: Even if you’re not close to the beach (most volunteers aren’t, so prepare yourself), beaches should be accessible to you within a three to four hour radius. Many resorts or backpacker lodges offer great snorkeling, but may charge for the use of flippers and a mask. If you have your own, you can be in charge of your own mobile adventure and save some money when you visit beaches or hitch a boat ride with your neighbors.

Cold bag: For those put in more remote work sites, you may have to spend the weekend traveling to get your groceries. Grocery shopping could be a daylong commitment depending on how remote your site may be. If you have a fridge and want to buy cold items, having a cold bag will ensure the food won’t spoil en route back home.

Pictures from home: Your host family is going to be very curious about your family at home. Having pictures will help facilitate conversation about life in the United States, which will help to fulfill Goal Three of the Peace Corps. These pictures could also be a good gift for your host family and a source of comfort for you when you inevitably feel homesick.

A fanny pack: Because fanny packs are the best. Obviously.

    Things to Buy In Fiji

A fan: As I seem to reiterate again and again, it gets extremely hot and humid here. Some houses have tin roofs and others have poor air circulation. Even though you can’t always guarantee 24-hour electricity in parts of Fiji, your fan will become your new best friend. You will carry it with you from room to room. You may come to love it so much you find yourself whispering sweet nothings to it as you fall asleep. Check in Vinod Patel, Rup's Big Bear, Comfort Home or Courts. 

A nice spring mattress: Peace Corps will try and tell you that the cheap foam mattresses most Fijians use are good enough to last you two years. But if you care about getting a good night’s sleep and not giving yourself back or hip problems, foam mattresses just aren’t going to cut it. They don’t offer good support and tend to deteriorate quickly. Even though a spring mattress costs double a foam mattress, it will be the best decision you make. I got a good mattress at Comfort Home, but you can also get spring mattresses at Court's. Foam mattresses are found at odd shops all around Suva. 

Kitchenware: In the Peace Corps handbook, they’ll tell you to bring pots, a colander, knives and can-openers. All of these are very useful, but you can buy the majority of your kitchenware in Suva, at places like Rup’s Big Bear or Vinod Patel. The nicer kitchen appliances and casserole dishes might be harder to find and more expensive, but there were very few kitchen items I couldn’t find here for cheap.

A fridge: For some volunteers that don’t have consistent electricity, a fridge might not be an option. And although a fridge might seem like an extravagant luxury in Peace Corps, you can find small bar fridges for relatively cheap and they will make your life infinitely easier. Food spoils very quickly here because of the climate and ants will be the never-ending bane to your existence. The fridge will help your vegetables and fruits keep for longer, enable you to store leftovers, which would go bad otherwise, and allow for indulgences like milk, cheese or yogurt. In some communities, you may be able to use your neighbors’ fridges, but your food might be accidentally eaten or kere-keried away. Having a fridge will also make you a favorite among other remote volunteers, so that you can stock up on beer or ice cream for when friends visit. You my be able to get a fridge from a previous volunteer or your local hospital or health center, but I got mine at Gokal's in Suva. 

Clothes: Although it’s smart to get a long skirt or two, some dry-fit shirts and a blouse for your trip to Fiji, thrift stores are everywhere in Fiji and the prices are often very affordable. You can buy culturally appropriate dresses, skirts and shirts for $2.00 or less and easily have a professional wardrobe without having to pack too much for your trip over. Bargain Box will quickly become your new favorite store. 

Flashdrive: If you want to have internet access in Fiji, the best way to go is buy a flashnet/flashstick/dongle. Depending on where in Fiji your site is located, you can either buy a Digicel or a Vodafone flashstick. You pay about $30 Fijian, and then top up data when you need it. It's a pretty affordable and travel-friendly way to access the internet. 

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Something I think every PCV needs to remind themselves of. 

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Literary Life Cycle of a PCV

I feel naked without books. Some girls never go anywhere without their chap stick or iPhone—I need a book with me before I can walk out the door. Books have always been an enormous source of comfort for me. Part of this comes from growing up five minutes away from a local library, where I found my closest confidantes and friends amongst the dog-eared pages and crumbling book spines. Books speak to us at different times of our lives, often help us process subconscious or suppressed emotions, and serve as a linguistic release or escape into a new adventure. Sometimes books seem to come into our lives at just the right time, serving as a spiritual guide or existential anchor with which to withstand periods of distress, confusion or trauma. Other times, we may have a book that sits on our shelf for years unread—we may try and pick it up every so often, but for some reason the story or the narrator doesn’t synch up with us, and the book is relegated again to the dusty corner of shelves. More often than not, books serve as a release or a mental diversion from our own mundane lives; they allow us to inhabit others’ life worlds for a brief yet exhilarating period of time.

            Though I’ve always had particular genres I’m drawn to, I was also an English and Anthropology major in college, so I read widely and deeply, from sociological analyses of Typhoid Mary to experimental graphic novels to Victorian classics to Native American folktales. Before I departed for Fiji, I loaded my Kindle with as many books as I could afford to sustain me throughout my service. There were non-fiction books and new classics and memoirs and bestsellers. Yet since my arrival seven months ago, I have read fantasy and science fiction books almost exclusively. During my flight from Philadelphia to LAX for my pre-departure staging, I tore through Neil Gaiman’s newest book The Ocean At the End of the Lane. The main character relives a horrifying experience from his childhood when he was quite literally infected with a malicious supernatural creature. He feels betrayed by his family when the safety and sanctity of his home is compromised by this monster, but is ultimately saved by a young woman’s sacrifice for him. It goes to show how the most devastating and life-changing adventures can occur when you make a new friend and learn to see the world with new eyes, even in your own backyard. The mundane always has the capacity to transform into the fantastical. As the narrator reconciled his adult self with his recollections of childhood, returning to his childhood home after so many years, I brushed away the tears my father had left behind in my hair as we said goodbye at the airport, knowing I would be returning a different woman than when I left.

            During my pre-service training in country, I gravitated toward the science fiction options on my Kindle, like China Mievielle’s The Scar and Orson Scott Card’s Xenocide in the Ender’s Game series. The feeling of entrapment, homesickness and vertigo at the unfamiliar and inexplicable colony of Nova Esperium expressed by Bellis Coldwine in The Scar mirrored my own state of mind as I began to integrate into a foreign and strange culture, reading beneath my carefully draped mosquito net. Ender’s negotiation with the pequeninos and Olhado’s feelings of alienation and isolation were similarly poignant. I tried to pick up books based more firmly in realism, such as Jennifer Egan’s A Visit From the Good Squad or Nick Hornby’s How To Be Nice, but each time I started these kinds of books I felt strangely disconnected, dissatisfied and estranged from the characters. It was difficult to commiserate with a group of disaffected, entitled teenagers fond of navel gazing or a woman complaining about her dissolving marriage when I daily tried to wrap my tongue around a new language, negotiate meals of sea cucumber and dalo, and adapt to a culture of intricate hierarchies, kinship and ceremonial demands. Instead, I was drawn to the magical realism of The Tiger’s Wife and the fantastical clash of George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones series. Somehow the unfamiliar terrain of these fictional worlds spoke more viscerally to my feelings of estrangement. They perhaps subconsciously helped me to process all my excitements, fears and anxieties of settling down into a culture totally foreign to me, on an island in the middle of the Pacific full of magic and misgivings.

            During the winter months, I went through a difficult time physically and psychologically. I became terribly sick with a staph infection and boils that had me bedridden and miserable for weeks. I felt helpless and fragile, completely alone and vulnerable in a country that seemed to contort my body into monstrous shapes and hideous illnesses. I turned to horror. I devoured Stephen King’s sequel to The Shining, Doctor Sleep, then proceeded to John Connelly’s Nocturnes, Guillermo del Toro’s The Strain, Max Brook’s World War Z: An Oral History, Anne Rice’s Taltos and Celia Rees’s Witch Child, all the while streaming American Horror Story’s most recent season, Coven. Vampires and zombies and witches raced through my nights, but these horror creatures lent me a certain comfort. When I had night terrors as a child, the only thing that could help me to fall asleep was a children’s audio book called The Curse of the Squirrel, a juvenile, if goofy, horror book. I chased off nightmares with nightmares—I doused myself in fear of my own choosing. I have always sought out situations that frighten me, hoping to grow from and overcome my fears. This desire to confront my fears head-on partially led to my joining the Peace Corps. These horror books helped me keep my own trials and failures in perspective. I drew strength from them.

            I found the stories of the witches especially empowering. I have always had a special affinity for Western understandings of witches. I came from a family that huddled around the Ouija board to portend auspicious occasions; my grandparents burst with recollections of encounters with ghosts or disturbed spirits. Witches themselves, historically, were strong women who defied conservative, patriarchal standards of femininity and relied on no man for their own security and independence. I went to a college founded on principles of women’s rights and educational equality, full of liberal arts witches and wolf women. The reclamation of the term “witch” is a feminist proclamation of female strength and the misappropriation of women’s history and station in society. To be a witch in Fiji is a very different thing than in a Western feminist context blazed by women like Clarissa Pinkola Estes and Mary Daly, but I clung to my inner witch and got healthy again through a certain sorcery of blood.

            Even as I’ve settled into a routine at my site and become more accustomed to Fijian culture, my literary tolerance for realism is limited. I spend my nights reading M. T. Anderson’s Feed, David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas and Karen Russell’s Sleep Donation. We don’t always recognize, consciously, why certain books speak to us during particular periods of our lives, but during these past several months of feeling like a stranger in a strange land, my literary landscapes have been apocalyptic, dystopian, interstellar and nightmarish, allowing me to project my own adventures into an alternative reality in order to come to better terms with my own. 

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"People in the Pacific islands may know what constitutes healthy eating but, as in many parts of the world, governments struggle to change people’s behaviour. In eight countries, less than 20% of people surveyed reported eating the recommended five or more portions of fruit and vegetables a day. The often calorie-rich and nutrient-poor imported foods have a stronger appeal.

A major challenge for Pacific island countries is to reinforce nutrition education in schools by promoting healthy eating practices. 'Even as kids we know what we are supposed to eat and not eat; there is a very good level of nutrition education in Fiji,' says Ateca Kama, senior nutritionist at Fiji’s National Food and Nutrition Centre. 'The challenge is for us to translate knowledge into behaviour. For example, schools teach good nutrition as part of the curriculum, and then they sell junk food in the school canteen because they need to make a profit.'”

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