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 Rowena D. Cuanico

Fr Patrick McCaffrey was born in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland in 1944 and ordained in St Eugene’s Cathedral, Derry, on 20 December 1967. He went to Fiji in 1968 and moved to Pakistan when the Columbans opened a mission there in 1979. In 2000 he was transferred to Britain where he worked mainly with Muslims, some of them refugees from the Middle East, in Bradford. He also celebrated Mass regularly there with Pakistani Catholics. He moved back to Fiji and later was again assigned to Pakistan, where he died suddenly on 18 May this year.

By Etuate Tubuka

A Columban seminarian from Fiji tells us about his first missionary journey to the Philippines. He accompanied Kurt Pala on part of the Road to Agoo in this issue.