Bula Bula

Bula Bula

The islands of Fiji run north-south, with two sets of smaller islands straddling the large center-running islands of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu. The dominant winds, as in the rest of the tropical South Pacific, blow from the southeast to the northwest, leaving the eastern, wind ward islands lush and jungle-like, and the western, lee ward islands drier. We spent our time on the western side of Viti Levu in the Mamanuca Group, shuttling between the port of Lautoka for entry and exit, and the island of Malololeilei for rest and repairs. Time prevented us from visiting any of the many other islands in Fiji, a regrettable occurrence as we came to like the people there immensely.

Fiji's government is a military dictatorship these days, having experienced a spate of coups over the last twenty years or so as the head of the Army grew more and more frustrated with the apparent corruption, ineptitude, and lethargy of the elected governments. Every Fijian we spoke to agreed with the need for the decrees that now govern life in Fiji, and to a person, every person spoke of the new sense of accountability, social progress, and economic momentum under the military leadership. These were unguarded conversations, and came on the heels of a BBC Radio report that Fiji had scored a "zero" in a recent survey of worldwide accountability. The survey cited Fiji's unwillingness to be transparent in its budget processes.

From what we hear, nearly every important ministry and decision is made by the military leader. Fijians were abuzz at his recent sacking of his longtime #2 aide, the Police Minister, for having required every employee in his Ministry to attend church on Sundays. Perhaps this would not have caused a fuss in Tonga - where even the Seventh Day Adventists had switched their day of worship to Sunday - but in a country that's 50% Muslim or Hindu, the Army general said enough is enough. The move impressed the Fijians we spoke to. On a more locally-relevant note, a nearby island had been claiming "ownership" of an adjacent reef and its world-class surf break, requiring would-be surfers to reside at the pricey resort (paying US dollars to an offshore account), and sending out locals to threaten and hurt anyone surfing the break who did not pay the resort lodging. This went on for years, and a world-class Fijian surfer was actually hurt and hospitalized for breaking the rules. A few months back, the non-elected government got around to issuing a decree that all surf breaks were communal property and that anyone enforcing ownership would be fined and or jailed.

When pressed to define why the military leadership was "better" than the elected government, Fijians cited more attention to the social welfare system, better roads and transportation options to the inland villages, and, consistently, more "accountability" and less corruption. No one could quite describe the endgame however; a benevolent dictator is still a dictator, a fact grudgingly acknowledged. We'll see.

We had to leave Fiji before we had a chance to really explore its many islands, and we sailed southward in the lee of Viti Levu, heading for Navula Pass, the entrance and exit to the large enclosed protected reef to the west of the main island. We left Lautoka after a two-day merry-go-round with the Fiji mail service, Fiji quarantine regulations, and a local fumigation business. We had purchased some plant and wood products in both Tonga and Fiji, and, aware of Australia's near obsessive concern about invader pests, decided to send these home to the States from Fiji. It took us a few days to comply with all the Fiji and US requirements on such transshipments, but in the end, with the incredible assistance of our local guide, Ravin, the packages were fumigated, inspected and sent via the proverbial slow boat.

The winds were from the south initially, but as we made the turn through the pass, we again had to make that transition from the relative calm of coastal cruising to the full force of south pacific trade winds and the associated swells.

The trade winds are a result of air heating up around the equator, rising, and flowing northward and southward toward the cooler poles. As the air cools, it sinks, and, with the earth rotating, the friction of the earth's surface drags the associated wind so that south of the equator, the winds tend to flow SE to NW, and north of the equator, from NE to SW. Imagine a bowl spinning, and a liquid poured at the edge; it will flow in a diagonal direction as it moves to the bottom.

Leaving Navula Pass, we went from the 15 knot winds in the lee of Viti Levu and immediately - as if a switch were thrown, encountered 25-20 knot winds and 12 foot swells. It had been a while (since our passage from Tonga two weeks ago) that we'd seen these conditions, and, as has been the case a few times on our trip, we had to make an abrupt transition in our thinking, behavior, and expectations. We're back at sea - no real margin for error or sloppiness.

We've had four days of these conditions. With winds from the stern quarter (about 150 degrees relative to our forward motion), and with swells pushing us along, we've been able to average about 6 knots with just a tiny portion of our genoa unfurled. Today, needing to average only 4 knots for tomorrow's mid-morning landfall in Port Resolution, Vanuatu, we've reduced our single sail even further; it's barely unfurled, and with winds blowing 25 knots or so, we're still sailing at 4 knots.

Fiji left us a lot to think about - the meaning of accountability; the abruptness of transitions; and the ability of a people to remain unfailingly friendly. In Tahiti, I worked with a local mechanic who critiqued my practice of greeting him with a "bonjour" every time I saw him over the course of a day. In France, you wish someone "bonjour" just once, it seems. Here in Fiji, the ubiquitous greeting is "Bula!" - with an exclamation point and a drawn-out "ah" sound at the end. Not only is it uttered each and every time one greets another, it is frequently spoken twice: "Bula Bula!" It's infectious, and inevitably is accompanied by an ear-to-ear smile. Fijians are expressive and upbeat, seem to embrace possibility, and we wish we had more time to spend there. Alas, the approaching cyclone season threatens, and we need to be in Australia by late November. Miles to go. One more stop in Vanuatu, and then the final passage across the Coral Sea. Here's hoping the trade winds run steady, and our boat sails safely. Bula Bula!