One of the best things about staying at this resort was its links with the nearby village, Nalauwaki. Nearly all of the staff at the resort were from the village, which was situated in a neighbouring bay, accessible over a steep hill. Guests weren't allowed to just wander into the village, but there were scheduled visits there. Dan and I both went on the trip to the local kindy, and I went to the Methodist church service on Sunday while Dan was recuperating by the pool from his fierce bout of tropical fever. The village houses ranged from pretty basic houses made from corrugated iron to more sturdy constructions of concrete. There was a kind of 'square' in the centre of the village with the church at one end, and a big satellite dish and solar panel in the middle. The children at the kindergarten put on a performance of English songs for the group who were visiting, after which almost all the other guests disappeared to peruse the market and head back to the resort. Dan and I lingered a little bit, and the kids clambered around us. One little girl, Ana, decided she was going to be my companion for the time we were in the village, and it took a lot of persuading to eventually convince her that she really wanted to stay where she was... While under no illusions about our interaction with the children and other villagers, I found it disappointing that the other visitors didn't really want to interact with any of the people there, other than to watch and take pictures of the 'local colour'. Some of their attitudes to the staff at the resort betrayed a similar attitude. I wonder if they realised that, far from being mere staff, the villagers were the collective owners of the land on which they were staying?
1 comment:
Excellent photos and narrative and your comment about other tourists true ,and telling. Seems from the script that your calling is to be a Methodist Missionary serving Fijian children, Judith.
P.S Will our intrepid heroes(sic) return to the mainland
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