When the new becomes familiar

We had 2 arduous weeks of mandatory Peace Corps training, part of which involved a self designed workshop. Myself and 6 other volunteers had 2.5 days to put together a 2 hour presentation on stigma and discrimination against AIDS/HIV and mental health patients in the work place. We presented to a group of 45 young nursing students. We put together a power point, did roles plays and several group activities. The students were so eager and engaged and it was very fulfilling for us to know that we were making a difference in these young impressionable minds.

I stayed in Suva with another volunteer that had an oven……Haaaaa-lle-lu-jah!! I made roasted chicken with ratatouille the first night and the second night, I made a variation of my grandma's sweet potatoes and apples. They don’t have sweet potatoes here they have kumala-a little starchier and not quite as sweet, but still mimics well. You slice the sweet potatoes and apples into thin discs and then alternately layer them. Between each layer you sprinkle a bit of sugar, cinnamon and a few dabs of butter. Add a bit of water, cover and bake for 1 hour on 350ish until everything has melted into each other and you lose your mind in comfort food bliss. Not having an oven bums me out, but there are worse things in life not to have....let’s say a limb for example.....I've got all those so there’s nothing to really complain about.

After training I headed home to Lautoka. This was the first time I had taken this winding hilly trip back at night & I had my head hanging out the window like a dog, smelling the thick damp air, so salty and fresh. The silhouetted palms acted like pillars along the road and I watched the stars move as the cab traveled at galactic speeds while listening to the perfect randomly selected playlist as my ipod shuffled.

Back at home mission #1 was move to my new place!! It’s been a long time in the works and took 2.5 months (were on Fiji time folks) to finally get everything together. It’s a small self-contained flat attached to a house at the front. My landlord, his wife and 2 kids, 12 and 13 live there. They are a very friendly Indian family and I can tell *LOVE* having an American living in their rental. It is a 20 minute walk into town or a 15 minute bus ride and is a 15 minute walk to the nearest volunteer. The compound is safe and has a gate all the way around with barbed wire on top of that, as most houses do in the cities here. I think the best way to describe my house would be 1970’s Los Angeles ghetto, accompanied by hundreds of tiny little ants and complete with cockroaches. I was sitting at the table and a stealth bomber sized cockroach scurried across the floor; I squished it straight away with my flip flop & proceeded to freak out at the horrific nature of it all.

My house itself is very small. One bedroom, a moderate size living room that has been broken into 2 rooms by a useless partition wall, a very tiny kitchen and a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and broom closet sized shower. I have running water most of the day, but only cold and have electricity all of the time. I have no refrigerator which really sucks, because it means more trips to the market and cooking every meal from scratch. I hope to acquire a mini-fridge in the next few weeks. However, I do have a 2 burner gas stove top (think glorified camping stove) which rrrrrocks! Previously all I had was 1 electric skillet. Now I can whip up all kinds of deliciousness.

I had to buy everything for my house as all that was in it was a bed, table and 1 lone chair. Pots, silverware, dishes, buckets, cleaning agents (more on that later), etc. This place has been vacant for at least 3 months & I don’t know how long the previous tenant lived here but oh my lord it is filthy. Buckets and buckets of filth. I went through an entire bottle of disinfecting cleaning soap in 1 day. I’m talking the kind of filth where you need to wash walls, grimy light switches and the underneath side of shelves. I think most people would say that joining the Peace Corps takes courage and I know that going through a divorce took a lot of courage but really, cleaning my new bathroom took even more. Layers and layers of someone else’s funk.....I literally had to mentally prepare myself for this task. I was on hands and knees like Cinderella scrubbing walls, floors, every square inch I could reach. After getting stoned on bleach fumes and working up a sweat for nearly two hours, I finished. I contemplated burning the clothes I wore while cleaning that room.

For the first time in my life I am living alone, something I have wanted to experience for a long time. I have inexhaustible lists of things I would like to do to this place including setting up a yoga room and planting a garden....I’ve got 2 years why not. I’m getting used to all of the new sounds of my new environment; the cacophony of birds in the mango tree next to my bedroom window, the cat meowing outside and as I sit and write this there is a group of Indians a few houses away banging on drums, shaking tambourines and chanting loudly in honor of this week’s special puja (prayer).

I went for a walk the other day in the early evening sun. There were only a few people taking walks just before dinner and the street traffic was quiet. Even though I had never walked down that stretch of street in my new neighborhood, there was a comforting familiarity. The trees, bushes and the cement or corrugated tin houses look the same all over Fiji. I realized, I finally experienced the comfort of the familiar in Fiji. Everything didn’t look and feel so new. For the first time, it felt like home and not just an extended stay.