by Richelle H. Verdeprado

Teakare Betero, from Raba, Fiji, is undergoing his Spiritual Formation Year in Quezon City. Richelle H. Verdeprado is the Editorial Assistant of MISYONonline.com.

Teakare (far right) with Fr Taaremon Matauea on the latter’s ordination day, 11 August 2013

Every time he attended Mass during his teenage years, Teakare Betero or ‘Tex’ would recite with the priest instead of responding to him. For reasons he could not really tell at the time, he just got used to doing that. He grew up that way and his friends would even jokingly say to him that he might become a priest someday. Never did he think too that he would decide to take a journey towards priesthood and that a day would come when he would feel so hungry to learn more about God.

By Rowena D. Cuanico

The author, from Samar, is a former Columban Lay Missionary who served in Fiji and the Philippines. She is a frequent contributor to Misyon and other Columban magazines.

Weng with her Fijian friends

I often go to Mass at a chapel located in a shopping mall in an affluent part of town.

People are dressed nicely in fashionable clothes and shoes, carrying fashionable bags. They come mostly with their families. Some also come with their well-uniformed nannies and caregivers in tow.

Sometimes I would wonder why nannies and caregivers have to wear their uniforms. Is this to set their employers apart and bestow on them some status or prestige? Or is this to distinguish these nannies and caregivers from the rest of the congregation and assign them their place in society? I feel sad that even in a faith community where there should be ‘no more Gentile or Jew, servant or free, woman or man’, you can still identify their positions in society simply because of the uniforms some have to wear. I can't help but wonder,  is this how far we still are from the Kingdom of God whose dawning we have come to celebrate?

By Kurt Zion V. Pala

Fiji is a multicultural country. The Indians who arrived in the country were brought by the British about 100 years ago to work in the sugarcane plantations across the country. Now they have settled in the country and are considered Fijians. They still have their distinct Indian culture and traditions but have well established themselves in Fiji. I have from the beginning been assigned to live and work with them and so learned their language and lived in the village with one Indo-Fijian family for a period of five months.

Riding on the tamtam with Nana (‘Lolo’) Barabhabu

It was already about five in the afternoon but I had told my host father that I would be home by around one so I told them I have to leave because it was getting dark. I often get scolded for coming home late. But I always have my good reasons. ‘Khub ghar ghar ghume?’ my host mother exclaimed. She told me that I’d been roaming around the village the whole day. So I just put on my best smile and greeted them. I lived with an Indo-Fijian family, Uncle Bhola and Auntie Mary, for almost five months.

Right after my Hindi class with Master Gyan, I would walk back home from the Mission House. I had to climb a hill and on the way passed by about 10 houses. On any given day people would call out for me to have some tea or yangona or on some special days even get free lunch of goat curry, rice and dhal. This is what I enjoyed most when I was living in Paharkhaala, up in Naleba in Labasa, not just the food but also the people.

Together with Fr. Frank Hoare, Auntie Mary and Uncle Bhola

‘Aja, aji , salaam walaikum!’ I greeted the Muslim couple that I never miss seeing on my way home. Aji never fails to greet me when she sees me and says everytime, ‘Go my child and take care’. She’s fond of children. That includes me because none of her children are with them anymore.

From the top of the hill, I could see the girls waiting for me. I sometimes help them out with their homework. ‘Namaskaram brother!’ I heard them greeting. Auntie asked me to have lunch first. Sitting on the veranda I saw old man Barabhabu riding on something driven by two big bullocks. I knew what it was so I exclaimed, ‘Nana, aapke tonton? ‘Is this your tonton?’ Nana just laughed and told me that it is called tamtam, not tonton. After revising their homework I told them I had to go.

Just a few steps further on is Almilu attha’s place. I saw her sitting under the tree and so I called out, ‘Attha, kaise hai?’ Almilu attha is my host father’s older sister. Before I could say no, she had already set a cup of tea and pudding cake before me. I told her I would be celebrating my birthday with the children the following Sunday. I finished my tea and left.

By Pat Visanti

On 7 October we had an anticipated celebration for Fiji Day at our formation house in Cubao.  For me, celebrating Fiji Day away from home for the first time in my life was a touching and memorable experience.

We began with a Mass celebrated by Fr Arthur Ledger SJ, Fiji’s only Jesuit priest, who is the current director of the East Asia Pacific Institute at Ateneo de Manila. Then followed the Fijian kava ceremony. We also had a brief slide-show of the history of Fiji. The spiritual year students performed the meke, a traditional Fijian dance, and this was followed by the meal. The night was simply the Pacific at its best here in Manila, and there was more than enough for everyone who came to join us in our celebration.

When we sang a Fijian hymn, Sa kau cake mai oqo, at the offertory of the Mass, my memory drifted back home where people wake up early in the morning to prepare the lovo, an earth oven, for the traditional way of cooking. The aroma of cooked pork, chicken and palusami filled my mind.  I could also picture families along the beach at Nasese enjoying the day with kava, Fiji’s number one tropical root drink.