Day 16 - Monday December 24, 2001 - 9:53pm

Christmas Eve Day… in Fiji… or is it…?

The French in Vietnam and West Africa, the Germans in North and South Africa, the Spanish in Mexico, South and Central America, the Portuguese in Malaysia and Macau, the Dutch all over the east (Dutch East India Company, anyone…?), and the British in… well… everywhere else it seems. Although colonialism in most of its ‘original’ forms is dead, you’d swear the recent events with Mugabe in Zimbabwe have the Brits (and more than a few former Rhodesians one assumes) pining for the good ol’ days of Ian Smith.

It begs the question:

Had the missionaries not moved in all those years ago, what would Fiji look like today? What would their traditions be?

Tourism is the largest industry in the world and shows no signs of abating. The country of Azerbaijan is redecorating former Soviet politburo dachas on the Caspian Sea and turning them into time-shares. There’s no reason to assume that Fiji — without ‘benefit’ of European settlement — wouldn’t have jumped on the bandwagon and embraced tourism as a means to help feed the government coffers and prop up sugar cane exports, dwindling now as they are.

I suppose it could be said of any country that was colonized by any of the former major superpowers: Portugal, Spain, Britain, but Fiji was — is — relatively small by comparison. Would the French have moved in? Would tourists and travellers today be buying their Fiji beers with French Francs? Would the Jesuits have tried to nail the plank of ‘religious indoctrination’ onto the feet of the natives as they indeed succeeded in doing in the land that would one day be called Quebec? What of the Spanish? Would they have raped and pillaged their way across this small piece of paradise like they did a good portion of the Southern Hemisphere?

The point here is this: Christmas is no more a Fijian tradition than Methodism. I would have been far more interested, and far less critical last Sunday had the worshipping ceremony been ‘traditional’ and not an act of hackneyed Christian perpetualism with Fijian tribal members reduced to wearing suits and ties (another little-known Fijian custom apparently!)

Tourism has enhanced and indeed saved many economies in the world. But as with any structured government program that becomes synonymous with the country itself — Fiji IS tourism — there can be a high price to pay. One that cannot be redeemed later. In a country where begging and panhandling are a punishable offence (it is a rampant family-oriented practice in the capital city of Suva if local news reports are to be believed), Fiji has become a race of servants. Comparisons to America’s black population immediately after the abolition of slavery are apt.

More than sixty-five percent of the employable population is engaged in goods and services pursuant to the tourism industry - most of them serving soup to nuts, literally and figuratively.

So, what would their traditions be? I have to wonder if there’s a Fijian alive who knows what the original traditions were.

Later

I find it interesting that Fiji is the first country in the world to celebrate Christmas annually. In fact it’s the first country in the world to celebrate any day with a ‘Y’ in it, since it’s so close to the International Date Line. The sun rises on a new day here before it does so anywhere else in the populated world. Fiji was the place to be when the new millennium reared its head.

Still Later

Went to Amanda’s Restaurant (bistro really) over at Plantation Island. This was a fine idea. Only myself, six members of an extended Aussie family, a mother cat and her young kitten, and the kind of traditional Fijian musical band I was beginning to believe didn’t exist anymore.

There were three guitar players along with the mainstay of any good band: the inverted wooden box, stick and string, known in some locales as an upright string bass. And this guy knew how to coax the notes out of ‘er.

One of the singers — the main soloist — was a woman, which gave the traditional Fijian folk songs a unique sound which I’m not sure would have been their original intent, given the ‘traditional’ way that female singers frequently sing back-up. It was almost magical. Almost as good as the Chicken Curry I was devouring. I managed to feed the kittens and made them happy enough they actually took time off from accosting the other patrons to have a game of, ‘Fuck-It-Let’s-Sleep!’

Middle of the Night - 2:22am

Memo to self: Stop eating the curry!