Jonny, September 2006

From Tribewanted

Current revision as of 01:05, 15 January 2007

The following is an extract from my visit to Fiji last year, during which I spent 6 days on Vorovoro.

Friday 8th September

Arose at 6am, had porridge, coffee and juice for breakfast then packed my bags. Andrew arrived at 8:15am and we drove to the airport, dropping my Mum and sister off in town on the way so they could do some shopping. Arrived at the airport just after 9am, picked my tickets up from Duncan and checked in, said goodbye to Andrew and got on the short 20 minute flight back to Savusavu. There is no direct flight from Taveuni to Labasa so I needed to get a bus or a taxi through the mountains or round the coast. On arrival at Savusavu I found out the next bus wasn’t until 1pm, and it would take a couple of hours, so rather than hang around Savusavu for three hours opted to take a taxi for FJ$80. The driver, Shamesh, drove into town and switched to his newer 4WD for the drive rather than the battered-up car he uses for local trips. We stopped at his family’s café to pick up a drink for the journey and set off. He said I was OK to smoke so I sparked up a B&H then 20 seconds later he pulled over to fill up at the petrol pump. No-one seemed particularly bothered I might cause an explosion though so I carried on puffing away.

The road from Savusavu to Labasa is very good – sealed all the way – which made pleasant (and comfortable) change to large parts of Nadi and Taveuni, and we sped along at a fair old rate chatting as we went. Shamesh told me he worked mainly around Savusavu, but his family are from Labasa and run one of the timber yards in town. He also has family in Vancouver and would like to take a trip out there one day. He told me about the villages as we passed through, how Labasa was very busy with the Survivor crew turning up, the local timber and sugar industry, pointed out his parents house as we drove past and the family timber yard (Begg’s) as we entered Labasa. I’d had no luck contacting Poques or John Wright on their local cell-phone numbers so asked Shamesh to drop me somewhere where I could use a toilet, get a beer and get some cigarettes. He dropped me outside the Oriental Bar and Restaurant by Labasa bus station and said to take the stairs up to the bar where it was nicely air conditioned. I paid my fare, gave him a tip and said goodbye and climbed the stairs.

Walking through the door I was greeted with a wonderfully cool blast of air, in complete contrast with the dusty heat of the bus station just outside. The place was empty apart from the staff – it was just after midday and they were preparing for their lunchtime customers. I ordered a beer and some cigarettes, used the loo and sat down at the bar attempting to get through to someone on the island to arrange pick-up. There was still no joy so decided to sit back for a while and wait to see if anyone called or texted a reply. A young waitress came and sat with me and asked where I was from, what I was doing, where I was going etc and shared some Bombay mix. I told her about Vorovoro, which she’d heard a little bit about. Also chatted with Lilesh, the manager/owner, who told me about the upcoming soccer competition in Labasa that weekend and places to stay and eat if I couldn’t get to the island that day. I couldn’t smoke inside so popped out onto the balcony and chatted over a few ciggies with Jimmy, a local lad in his mid-twenties. His English wasn’t too good though so the conversation was a mixture of simple sentences and off-the-cuff sign language.

I went back inside and asked Lilesh if it was OK to leave my luggage with him while I did a quick recce down the high street. He said that was fine but to be back by 2:30pm if I wanted another beer as they shut up for the afternnon and get ready for the evening re-opening at 6pm. Had a quick look around the market, found the kava stalls but decided to leave that until I’d got some more info on how much I would need and what was a reasonable price. I popped into the post office on a book-hunt for the school library. The till was shut and would need to join the queue that was stretching out of the door if I wanted to buy anything. I’d planned to ship out a collection of National Geographic magazines for the school, but they would not arrive for a number of weeks and thought it would be nice to take a token gift in lieu of those. My weakening bladder got the better of me so I left the queue and went searching for a nearby public convenience. Ten minutes later I rather hadn’t found one, but had found the local police station next to the market so I went in and asked for some directions. I was invited round the back to use their facilities rather than wander around any longer, which was a nice gesture even though the toilet looked like it was last cleaned in 1846.

I returned to the Oriental and sank another couple of stubbies, then asked Lilesh where I could find the local fishing boats. I was hoping to hitch a ride since I still hadn’t had word from the island. He directed me to the far side of the market so I picked up my luggage, thanked Lilesh and set off in search of someone who could help me get there. I approached a stall selling fish by the river and asked the Fijian lady tending it whether there was anyone going back to Mali who may be able to drop me off at Vorovoro. Within a few seconds I had four local people chatting with me: “Oh, you are with [[Ben Keene]|Ben] on the island. Do you want to get there today ? Do you want to go now ? We can get you there. Just wait here.” A few minutes later I was told we could go to the village where Tui Mali was, or get a boat straight from the market. I was also told Tui Mali was in the village for a funeral. I opted for the boat from the market not wanting to disturb the village funeral in any way, but was told it would be easier and quicker if I went to the village. I was shown to a car and set off with three of the local guys to the village, chatting about Tribewanted and Vorovoro on the way. I apologised if I was causing any inconvenience to them or Tui Mali, but was told not to worry and it was their pleasure for them to help me.

About ten minutes later we pulled into the village and parked the car by a tree. One of the local lads ran over and the driver sent him back with a message. A few minutes later one of the older villagers came out and we spoke briefly about where I needed to go, and that Tui Mali was on the phone to [[Ben Keene|Ben] to sort things out. Then Tui Mali came over to the car – I recognised him immediately from the Tribewanted website photo’s. I introduced myself as graciously as I could and apologised once more for gate-crashing a village funeral. He said that was fine, and that a boat was on its way and we should get back into the car for the short ride to the pick-up point. We were dropped off at Malau and I spent the next thirty minutes chatting with Tui Mali about Fiji, England, Vorovoro and Tribewanted while we waited for the boat to arrive. He told me off the excitement the project was generating amongst his people, how it was seen as a good development for the community, and I told him of the similar excitement amongst the Tribewanted members.

The boat moored up, Tui Mali bid his goodbyes to return to the village and I set sail for Vorovoro with one of the local Mali men as captain. It had been raining quite heavily an hour or so earlier, it had stopped now but the sky was still quite dark and the sea a little choppy. After ten minutes we began to round the eastern tip of Mali and Vorovoro came into view. Not quite the sun-drenched green profile from the website given the weather, but very exciting none-the-less. We navigated the channel between Mali and Vorovoro, rounded the headland and landed on the beach close by the Tribewanted camp to be greeted by Sara Jane. Here at last !! It had taken the best part of nine hours by car, plane, taxi, car and boat to get here from Taveuni – I was tired but excited to meet everyone and see first hand the developments so far that had been made by the First-Footers in their first week.

Sara Jane took me over to the “hammock shack” where I met Paul, Becca, John Wright, Kim and Ryan. A few minutes later Poques emerged from an afternoon siesta. I commented that we’d been hearing about lots of hard work but I arrive to find everyone lounging around and Poques in bed !! He assured me they’d had a bloody hard week and were all taking a well-earned rest, and to prove his point took me on a guided tour of the camp facilities – toilets, showers, kitchen, tables, benches, the beginnings of a garden, foundation posts for the Great Bure, then we sat for a chat over a ciggie or two.

We returned back to camp and I was introduced to Raina, and James the National Geographic photographer. James was heading down the beach with Paul to get some sunset photo’s so I decided to tag along and see some of the island outside the camp. The tide was in and we had to scramble up some rocks to get the view James wanted. Since I’m now a middle-aged balding, greying, beer-bellied individual Paul was the subject of choice for photo’s that required a human element. I consoled myself with the thought that I might make it into some of the wildlife shots.

James completed his shots and we had to get back down the rocks in the rapidly fading light. Paul was down in a jiffy, my dodgy leg and general uneasiness and ungainliness resulted in more of a semi-controlled slide and fall jarring my toe and causing nice big grazed patch on my backside. James reminded me again how it should be done, and we set off back to camp where I prepared what was to be my residence for the next 6 days – a small one man tent left by one of the journalists (Jane) who had visited earlier. Since the only things I’d bought with me for protection from the elements were two small blankets pinched from Korean Air this was more than welcome and would prevent me awaking each morning 6 pints of blood lighter and the local mosquito’s in permanent drunken stupor.

I’m sure we then had our evening meal, but for the life of me I can’t remember what it was. There must have been rice in there somewhere though. Whatever it was it did the trick as I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. As the last light from the sun faded we sat round the camp fire and introduced myself to Doug and Justin. Steve C and JW spotted me a couple of beers and we chatted the evening away under clear skies and a full moon. John did his best to be last man standing but eventually retired to leave me laying on my back looking through the gap in the trees waiting for the moon to be directly overhead. Eventually the moon obliged and I retired too for some much needed sleep after a long day.

Saturday 9th September

I awoke about 6am. Dixie and Poques were up, otherwise the camp qas quiet. The morning was clear and calm and the tide was in. I took a few photo’s in the early morning sunlight, Dixie provided me with a welcome cup of tea, then had a wash-down in the sea and rinsed off in the shower. Breakfast was then served and after a couple of mugs of hot coffee I felt almost human even if I didn’t look it.

The plan for the morning was to take a quick trip to Labasa and help out with the shopping for the upcoming cocktail party. I also needed to get some Kava for my sevusevu with Tui Mali. The boat left about 8:30am with James, Raina, Sara Jane, Doug, Kim, Steve C, and me on board. We offloaded at Malau and jumped in a couple of taxi’s to the Great Eastern Hotel. James had charge some electronics gear so I set off with Raina who was in search of a phone card and local currency, then on to MH where we would meet James for the shopping. Whilst we waited we stocked up on some personal supplies - Jack Daniels, Vodka and cigarettes, and then started the main shop. James joined us a few minutes later and we rattled through the list, and went back to the liquor section to complete the alcoholic purchases. We left the trolley laden with supplies at the store and headed down the road for fresh bread, then on to the market for vegetables and Kava. None of us had any experience buying Kava so we did a general scout around asking prices for some decent quality root, not the pre-pounded powder. We managed to procure a couple of kilo’s at FJ$35 each without feeling ripped off, but what did we know ?!?! We could confirm later whether we had or not.

We returned to the Great Eastern and found we’d done everything in super-quick time – it was only just after ten. James treated himself to a cooked breakfast and I had a beer – a little early to start drinking but if you get up early you should be able to bring it forward I think. I chatted with James about National Geographic’s involvement as well as his personal involvement and TW generally – sounded like he was hooked and will continue to follow our progress after his assignment is complete. Raina re-joined us, some more beers ordered and we went and sat by the pool to await the return of the others. Kim turned up, but there was still no sign of the others by the time the taxi’s arrived. Raina and I jumped in the first one and went back to MH to pick up the shopping whilst Kim and James hung around for the stragglers. The trolley was still there safe and sound, most importantly the beer was still there, so I loaded up while Raina did a quick dash in for onions and straws which we’d forgotten first time round. When we arrived back at Malau the second taxi was already there and everyone was accounted for. The tide was now out and we had to squelch through ankle deep mud carrying crates, bags and rucksacks trying desperately not to fall flat on our faces or have trainers and flip-flops sucked from our feet. With this minor hurdle successfully negotiated (yes – beer was still safe too !!) we set sail again for our island home.

We had to anchor a way off the beach because of the low tide which presented another minor problem – how to get all the goods up to the camp ? Some of us decided to just leave everything on board, jump in and wade to shore (the water was only chest deep), whilst others took the opportunity to get a bit of sunbathing in on deck an wait for the tide to come in. I met Poques on the beach and he said there had been a small fire in the morning up on the hillside and the Vorovoro Volunteer Fire Department had sprung into action to extinguish it. It was thought a broken bottle or discarded cigarette butt may have started it. The brush was bone dry after nearly two weeks without rain so even a small fire was potentially hazardous.

Lunch was served with the sunbathers still on the boat – a treat of spicy sausages and chicken with the obligatory rice accompanying it. As lunch was being cleared a shout went up that either the fire had restarted, or a new one was underway. Poques led a group off to combat the blaze, including Steve C who had just loaded up his diner plate with a two-foot high pile of food which he took with him. The rest of us followed and joined the locals to help clear a fire-break along the low ground. The Tribewanted staff contacted [[Ben Keene|Ben] and preparations were made for a possible evacuation – a decision some thought unnecessary although the safety aspect had to be seriously considered. An hour or so later the fire was deemed to be out and everyone relaxed a little, Steve returning safely to camp with a clean plate and searching for his next source of food having successfully tackled the blaze with a small serving of tomato ketchup and a spicy sausage. In reality I think “out” meant no longer a threat to the camp, because a little while later smoke was again seen coming from the hillside on the other side of the island. The wind was quite strong and gusty but was thankfully blowing away from the camp and towards the beach on the southern side of the island. Ben and Tui Mali were contacted again and it was decided an evacuation would take place. It was strongly advised that we do so for safety reasons, however a number of people decided to stay – Poques, Justin, Doug, Dixie, James and Suzie. The rest of us boarded the boat with some overnight baggage. As we were boarding we were then told again that the fire was “out”. The boat set off and we headed around the eastern end of the island to see thick smoke and flames coming from at least two points on the island – the first a short distance from the original outbreak spreading down to the lower levels towards the firebreak, and the second at the very top of the central peak. Either the fire was had not actually been out, or it had started again very quickly.

We were greeted at Malau by Ben and Dan who had sped back from Savusavu when they had heard about the fire. Dan got on the boat and headed back to Vorovoro whilst Ben and the rest of us got into a mini-convoy of taxis and drove to The Great Eastern, where the five remaining rooms that were available had been booked for us. We bagged some tables by the pool, ordered up some drinks and Ben gave us a run-down on the situation before starting individual chats to try and ascertain the exact sequence events before, during and after the fire up until the point of evacuation. Becky did a couple of film interviews also for Shine/TWTV. Bens one-one-one interviews lasted well into the evening whilst everyone made full use of the waiter service and filled themselves with beer and food. The hotel grounds were pretty busy – there was a dinner and drinks party taking place for the Survivor production crew so we were lucky to get any rooms at all. We were joined by the manager of the internet café – he was going to open up later for Ben so he could get something posted on TW before a lot of gossip started doing the rounds.

I’d had the foresight to include the Jack Daniels in my “overnight” bag and as the night wore on decided to crack it open and supplement it with some coke from the bar. I think I was pouring myself half JD, half coke into half pint glasses and, unsurprisingly, the effects kicked in quite quickly having not eaten anything since lunch. After my fourth glass I apparently took a power-snooze only becoming semi-conscious for short periods of time to mumble some words of wisdom in an obscure Fijian dialect which no-one understood. I did, however, manage to find the toilets unaided, except for some directions from Raina on my fifth circuit of the dining room, and ended up safely back in the room I was sharing with Steve C. Steve had a requested a room with someone who doesn’t snore. I probably did, but thankfully Steve was as tired as I was and we both slept undisturbed until morning.

Sunday 10th September

After the events of the previous day I was a little later in arising than usual, about 9am. Steve was still asleep so I sat on the back porch by the river and smoked a few ciggies. Steve woke about 15 minutes later and got spruced up, then I followed suit as we had to be checked out by 10am. The tribe members congregated at some tables by the pool and ordered up breakfast and coffee to shake off the effects of beer, vodka and Jack Daniels. Once we were all ship-shape we decided to take a walk down to the Internet café and catch up on the forum and e-mail, everyone particularly wanting to read Ben’s account of the fire. I was still a bit fuzzy so took the opportunity to relax on the sofa reading the paper in the air-conditioned surroundings and tried to get the sugar levels back to normal with Fanta orange and just did a quick e-mail check before we left.

We returned to the Great Eastern for some lunch around 1pm – the boat would be heading back to the island at 3pm and we were due to be picked up at 2:30pm. Orders were made for toasties, fish and chips and burgers and we duly sat and waited. And waited. And waited. And ………. waited. An hour and a quarter later the first toasties arrived, which didn’t bode well for the more exotic items that had been ordered. Ben was running a little late so everyone got their food in the end, although by the time Sara Jane’s fish and chips arrived she’d lost interest in food completely. True to form Steve C had no such problems, and had even popped to the shops to stock up with more goodies to take back to the island. The man was rapidly gaining a reputation as the skinniest glutton in the South Pacific.

We taxied back to Malau and got back on the boat and wondered what awaited us back on the island. Would it be Fire Fighters vs Deserters ? Would we fall foul to a revival in cannibalism ? Would those that had remained have tackled adversity without slipping into mutinous disagreement ? All was put to rest when Justin emerged from the camp to greet us mocked up in tribal warfare attire grinning from ear to ear. We returned to a harmonious camp – all had gone well with the fire fighting, and with a nice British touch they had even stopped for afternoon tea and cake before resuming duties. The camp was safe, as were all that had stayed. Most importantly, the beer was still safe too.

Preparations began for cocktails and camp fire a little way down the beach from the main camp – primarily another photo session for James and primarily for the rest of us another opportunity to neck down some alcohol. I staggered bare foot down the path with a crate of Fiji Bitter and what was left of the Jack Daniels then we sat by the fire and watched the sunset whilst James took his shots from every angle, even wading out into the water to get a decent angle.

Once the sun has disappeared it was back to the main camp for dinner. Only three of the twelve bottles of Fiji Bitter had been drunk, so I had to carry this back in almost pitch darkness. John Wright had the whiff of food in his nostrils and kept steaming ahead with the torch whilst I stubbed toes, trod on spikes and cracked my head twice on low hanging branches as I stumbled through undergrowth twenty yards behind. The beer and I arrived shaken but intact back at camp, with me cursing mildly under my breath about being abandoned in the wilderness without a bottle opener.

Food was had in the form of some freshly caught fish wrapped in banana leaves expertly prepared and cooked by Suzi over the campfire that everyone agreed was excellent. The nightly ritual of beers round the campfire then followed to enable replenishment of our favoured form of natural sunblock (dirt mixed with sweat, smoke and ash) that most of us had washed off earlier in the day. After a spectacular moonrise I found a comfortably shaped hollow in the sand and fluffed up a log for a pillow and lay back with a Fiji Bitter, John Wright kindly ensuring I didn’t run dry for the rest of the evening. People gradually drifted off and Paul and I were left to monitor the dying embers. I must have dozed off as I awoke at about 3am alone with the fire all but out. A short walk back to the tent turned into a ten minute search during which I became convinced it had sprouted legs and was winding me up in an unfunny game of hide-and-seek. Eventually I found it precisely where I had left it with no track marks to indicate it had ever been anywhere else and grudgingly accepted I should eat more carrots before falling asleep inside.

Monday 11th September

Poques and Dixie left for a time-out away from the island in Labasa in the morning after breakfast. I agreed to be Kitch Bitch, or Kitch Bitches Bitch as it were since Steve C was officially in charge and I was the apprentice. I was also lined up for kitchen duties the following day which I didn’t mind as I wouldn’t be much help on the construction side of things. It turned out that Va (our head chef-ess) and her helpers had pretty much everything under control though and all we were required to do today was move everything between the kitchen main bench for serving, do the washing and drying up and then put everything back in the kitchen afterwards. Ben complimented me on the standard of food, which was probably a direct result of me staying out of the way during it’s preparation.

In between meal-times the camp was a busy place. Work progressed quickly on the Great Bure with the local boys transporting timber in then skilfully constructing a bamboo scaffolding to allow the main frame to take shape. As each hour went by things looked scarier and scarier as they balanced on bamboo beams some twenty feet in the air in bare feet. Scaffolding and timbers were lashing in place with hand-made ropes. Apparently the man-made fibre ropes did not hold as firmly as they knots slipped.

Doug and Justin worked on a new area for waste collection and a secure tool-shed, Paul and I attempted to make the Chiefs table ant-proof with Vaseline rings around the table legs, I “recarpetted” the campfire area where the sand was now made of 50% ash from the nightly burning, and raked and tidied garden and meeting area around that Poques was developing as his main legacy for September. Paul and I measured out the one table already built in this area and decided the next one to take shape should be on the other side parallel to the beach and set markers for digging the holes to hold the table and bench legs.

It was great to see everyone busying themselves all around the camp, everyone doing there bit to make some positive progress. It would be very easy to sit around and do nothing all day, especially with the hot sun beating down. The energy and enthusiasm seems to be contagious though, and you can’t help but get stuck and do whatever you are capable of doing. With more hands available, or just willing hands, the camp should take shape very quickly over the coming weeks and months, which is what is required if larger numbers are to be comfortably accommodated.

The day passed quickly between kitchen duties, various jobs around camp and stopping every once in a while to admire the construction work by the Fijians.

After a fish curry dinner and finishing kitchen duties the campfire was re-ignited and a few Fiji Bitters were quaffed. John Wright had obviously had a very tiring day, as became obvious when he fell asleep in seductive reclining pose with beer till clasped in hand. This offered too good a photo opportunity to miss (see photo link) and it is rumoured the whole set will be appearing in James' article for National Geographic.

Tuesday 12th September

Kitchen duties continued with Becca my trusty partner for the day. Becca seemed to love washing up – I think she did some things seven or eight times just for the thrill of it. I offered my service in during the cooking phases but Becca told me to bugger off until some all the stuff needed carrying to and from the kitchen and shut the door on me. I still managed to get complimented on the food again though so my efforts were not wasted.

Paul and I levelled off the ground where the second table was to be positioned. We were wondering what to do with the sand, earth, stones and ash we had removed when Tui Mali came over and asked what we were doing. When we explained he suggested we dump it at along the high water line – the daily tides and winds would clean the ash and dirty coral leaving the beach clean again. We then dug the holes to hold the legs – the timbers had been cut into appropriate lengths by the local chainsaw man – and position the legs in the holes. John Wright offered his technical assistance for final alignment and we filled the holes to secure the legs in position. Meanwhile in the main part of the camp work continued on the Great Bure, although not as hectic as had been the previous day. Much of the time was spent beating and battering mangrove branches for ropes and preparing the timbers for the main construction.

The previous evening Steve and Dan had been talking about an island treasure hunt and I’d offered Steve some help in setting it up, so after lunch we set off round the island looking for suitable hiding spots a constructing some clues. Steve had come up with the general framework for the hunt – a mixture of finding items hidden around the island, some practical exercises, some code-breaking and a flag-raising finale. We found seven or eight spots to hide the “treasure” and made note of nearby points of reference that could be used in the clues. The treasure hunt was scheduled for the following afternoon.

Kim and Suzi left (need to expand this bit).

After dinner I finally got round to presenting my Sevusevu to Tui Mali, having been thwarted up until now by the fire and availability of Tui Mali and [[Ben Keene|Ben]. My island wardrobe did not contain a sulu, which was the dress code for the event, so Raina came to my rescue providing a fashionable purple number for me to wear which I skilfully tucked into my shorts to prevent it from spending much of it’s time around my ankles. Ben, Dan and myself walked the short distance to the Fijian’s village area, Ben giving me a quick refresher on etiquette on the way. I presented Tui Mali with the kilo of Kava roots purchased from Labasa market and said a few short words thanking him for allowing me into his community and wishing everyone well for the future. The Kava was accepted then we sat cross legged on some matting around the tanoa (bowl used for mixing the Kava) and a long prayer was given. I was assured by Ben that a long prayer was good and it wasn’t due extra effort being required to cast the evil demons from within me. The other tribe members started to join us and eventually we had the full compliment and the grog drinking began. Justin seemed determined to drink as much of the stuff as he could – I’m sure he’d have drunk it from the main bowl had he got half a chance. John made a few strange gurgling noises as he drank the first couple of bowls, although it may have been a mis-timed quack causing the grog to go down the wrong way. In between rounds there was general chit-chat about progress so far and next stages of construction in the camp. The first bowl was drained and the Kava I had presented was pounded and mixed for a second bowl. Ben moved us up a gear clapping us into the next round almost as soon as the last one had finished and we sped through them mindful of Tui Mali’s need to be elsewhere, and very soon the second bowl was empty. We thanked Tui Mali and the rest of the villagers present and then headed back to camp to wash down the Kava with some Fiji Bitter before bed-time.

Wednesday 13th September

Today was treasure hunt day. Steve and I had to finalise the clues and collect together some treasure to be found. This took us up until mid-morning and then we set of with Dan to test out the clues, set the treasure and check the safety of the route. Start time was scheduled for 2:30pm. Poques and Dixie had returned from Labasa that morning so we hoped for a full pool of tribal hunters. Sara Jane and John Wright had to take a quick trip into town though, and Dixie would be otherwise engaged preparing a birthday treat for Paul. A Fijian had been allocated to each team to provide some local knowledge and encourage more interaction between them and the tribe members. In the end we had three teams of four people – Dan, Steve and myself not participating in the hunt itself for obvious reasons.

Justin was leaving today and would unfortunately be missing the treasure hunt. After lunch we assembled at the locals village area and sang the Vorovoro song as Justin passed through the two lines of people, still smiling and distributing his humorous comments as he went in his distinctive Alabama drawl. John Wright was supposed to be on the boat too for a trip into town, but he was still back at camp. We sent a runner back to fetch him and two minutes later, looking something like Time Team meets Chariots of Fire he came steaming down the beach with whiskers flowing all around him. With John safely aboard we waved Justin off until the boat disappeared around the island and returned to camp to prepare for the start of the treasure hunt.

We finally kicked off at 3pm, the pre-selected teams being a) Poques, Becca and James, b) Ben Keene and Ryan c) Doug, Raina and Paul, each team with their local guide. Steve was master of ceremonies and gave an excellent kick-off speech to all the participants bidding them to sweat and toil to prove their worth as a member of Tui Mali’s community. I donned a makeshift headscarf and picked up a machete to act out my role as a pirate who would pose questions in return for tokens, or accept bribery for assistance. Steve was controlling the sequence of clues for each team to avoid congestion on the island or have teams following each to the booty. Each clue required the teams to locate a spot on the island or perform a task. Each clue had one piece of treasure which had to be returned to Steve in turn back at the camp at which point the next clue was handed out. The teams had to trek to the ends of the island, up rocky hill paths and river beds, through the blackened landscape left by the fire, sing parts of the Vorovoro song until Va was happy with there performance and answer Fijian general knowledge questions on their journey to the final stages. This involved deciphering a cryptic code to ascertain the location of an object buried in the camp, translating the message given on the object then a final race to raise a flag over the island that could be seen from camp. The lead to-and-fro’d between the teams until the final stages where Doug and co fell back from the pace after problems on the hillside. Ben, Ryan and their young Fijian guide raced ahead with their youthful legs, with Poques team not too far behind deciphering the final clue as the winners raised the flag.

After a short period to allow everyone to recovere from their exertions (I was thankful to be an organiser rather than a participant !!) we held a prize-giving ceremony for the winning team. And the prize? Four large well-chilled bottles of Fiji Bitter – the only cold beer on the island. Tui Mali presented the prize to winning team. Fortuitously for Steve and I the team was one down, and one member was under-age, so there were two bottles going spare which we felt obliged to drink. And very good it was too.

After the prize-giving we were ushered up the beach to present Paul with his birthday present. Dixie’s absence from the treasure hunt was due to her spending all afternoon preparing a cozy love-nest away from the main camp for Paul and his tribal ove Becca. John Wright had acquired a couple of additional bits and pieces to complete the romantic setting – condoms and Viagra. One of these was returned straight back to John as Paul felt he was more in need of it than he was. A short photo and filming session then ensued to capture the happy couple entering their accommodation for the evening.

Back at camp the fire was stoked up in preparation for the official First Footers final BBQ dinner and Paul’s birthday bash. John Wright had managed to bring a whole cow with him back from Labasa to feed the tired and hungry hordes who’d been treasure hunting all afternoon. The meat was cooked, plenty of rice and vegetables provided to accompany it, and cocktails and beers on hand to wash it down. A few of the locals joined in the party and we all sang Happy Birthday to Paul before the cakes was cut and shared around. All in all a fitting dinner for us to end the First Footer chapter of the Tribe Wanted story.

But, the night was still young. After dinner we returned to the camp fire and after a few beers to aid the digestion it was time for a Fire Poi demonstration by Becky and Paul who fired up the enthusiasm for everyone else to have a go. We were also treated to some rather more traditional fire stick manoeuvres by the locals. Everyone managed to come out of the experience without third degree burns, and a few people gave some pretty impressive performances given it was their first attempt at poi, lit or unlit !!

John Wright turned the music back up and proceeded to Wow everybody with a superbly choreographed dance routine along to The Goons “Ying Ting Song”. If you can imagine a demented rubber chicken taking short time outs to fall gracefully to the ground with kicking legs as if stunned by a taser gun you’re halfway getting the scene. Had Tui Mali seen it I think he may have had second thoughts about using us his island going forward. The Fijians that were present seemed to enjoy at a certain level – a level somewhere close to disbelievement at what they were seeing I think. The rest of us found it equally unbelievable and highly entertaining.

At some point in the evening, I can’t quite remember what stage it was, Poques invited everyone to share some of their thoughts on what the experiences on the island had meant to them and their thoughts for the future. As we went around the circle it was obvious that everyone had got a lot a personal energy and emotion invested in the community and it was going to be hard for people come their time to leave the island. Everyone had positive things to say even if all things hadn’t run to plan, and everyone had taken the opportunity to step back and take a constructive look at those areas where problems had arisen. I think the sharing of those thoughts bound us together even more, especially as many of them were very personal heartfelt feelings.

And so, a long day came to an end with the usual suspects slowly sipping one final drink before heading off to our respective sleeping quarters. I commented to Poques that the day had seemed to go on forever – so much had been crammed in. But considering it was my final day, I don't think a better day could have been had.