The warmth and authenticity of Fijians elevates their nation far above the sum of its natural, tropical beauty.
Here’s a personal account.
Part One: Disco Dreams
Fiji, 1983. School sports trip. The curfew was 8:30 pm, but my friend and I weren’t in our dorm. We were fidgeting outside a nightclub in Lautoka wondering how to wrangle ourselves in.
“We’re both 20,” said my taller friend.
“Cool,” replied a bouncer. “$2 each, but you can’t come in unless your shirt has a collar.”
“Can we borrow yours…?”
Seconds later the swaps were done; shirts so big it appeared we wore matching mini dresses, while the security detail could barely breathe in our college gym Tees.
We sashayed in – a mix of teen angst and bravado – to find it empty save another two idiots from our class also wearing oversized employee polo shirts. Though ID wasn’t needed at the bar, the price for Fiji Bitter was steep, much beyond our coin. Two beers between four thirsty teens doesn’t go far and throwing your best shapes on an empty dance floor in a man-dress to impress your mate doesn’t make you feel like you’ve made it in Fiji.
“Why didn’t you negotiate the door fee? Told you we should have gone to the other place. You took two sips more than us.”
“Thanks for bringing our shirts back. Our tummies are cold.”
The nicest bouncers I’ve ever met. The biggest handshakes I’ll ever share. The widest smiles you’ll ever see. Fijians are awesome.
Unedited joy beats a life in filtered splendour
In 2023, Fiji launched its Shot of Happiness Project. From my early experience, they were exactly 40 years too late.
They called it ‘a real happiness movement’. The Fiji Tourism Board initiated a campaign and posted unfiltered pics across their platforms – family and friends laughing, community events, music and vibes, everyday landscapes – a mix of reality and fun to remind people to be true to the spirit of Fiji such that it radiates and imprints itself onto tourists.
To visitors they’re saying that Fiji is all about soaking up sunshine, enjoying the ocean, meeting locals, connecting with nature, and being united with the island. Fiji is not just another vacation spot; it’s a place to ditch your ego – and the IG filters – so you can discover what real happiness feels like.
Part Two: Chesney Hawkes and a Dead Horse
Its 1985, and I have added two years wisdom and an almost-moustache to proudly display to Fijians since my last expedition. A bus journey between Suva and Nadi goes awry when a car smashes into a stray horse and kills it. The narrow road on this important costal link quickly jams and with traffic in both directions blocked, attempts are made to move the dead horse. He’s big. He’s heavy. He isn’t going anywhere despite 20 men wrestling the carcass – no one has rope to drag it away with a car.
Then the bush rustles and locals emerge from the forest, machetes honed and ready. Blades flash, skin splits, flesh carves, bones crack. Within ten minutes the horse is separated from the tarmac and is skewered on poles that slink back into the jungle on the broad shoulders of these giant, smiling men.
With a mix of shock and awe, we board the bus, drive over the pool of blood, innards and flies, and then ask the driver to put the radio on. Maybe some smooth tunes to soothe our battered senses. “I am the one and only,” sings Chesney Hawkes through the speakers, “Nobody I’d rather be.”
I don’t think he recorded anything else in his career. The ‘one and only’ just did his one and only hit song. Perhaps the dead horse cursed him. I know I would in the same circumstance.
The nicest bushmen I’ve ever encountered. The biggest biceps that deftly swung blades that I’ll ever witness. The widest smiles you’ll ever see. Fijians are awesome.
Fiji, you are the way the world should be
The words above, along with, “You made me feel so welcome, you’re so friendly…. Remember me, Fiji…” was an ad jingle in the 1970’s when this island nation in Pacific Melanesia rang out its clarion call to the world.
Come visit us. Its nice. We’re nice. Very nice. Very true. It still is. And 50-plus years since tourists first discovered they really need some Fiji in their life I too frequently find myself thinking, yeah, it’s been a tough time recently, I also need some Fiji in my life.
Part Three: I Can’t Walk but My Brother Got Married
I’m a man now. A real man, with a real wife, two small kids and a younger brother who’s selected Fiji as where he’ll tie the knot with his fiancée. A tropical storm delays most of the wedding party’s arrival so it’s just me and him on the stag night – and as the elder brother with experience of this island I take him local, real local, for Kava.
The Fijian ceremony for Kava is precise. You clap once and say ‘Bula!’ before drinking, downing it in one gulp before shouting ‘Maca!’ and clapping three times before handing the cup back to the server.
I drank too much. My hands got sore from clapping, and then my legs didn’t work. From the waist down I was numb and disabled. What can a native Fijian drink – that is also a mild hallucinogenic – do to a first-time drinker? Well, a lot it seems.
Fortunately, the Kava server in this local bar was also the guy who cooked breakfast at the resort. Between him and his friends, my legless brother and I somehow got back to our beds safely, before 10pm. Some stag night hey….
The nicest resort waiter that I’ve ever met and his mates carried us home and put our disgraced bodies to bed. The best hallucinogenic drink I’ve ever had. The widest smiles you’ll ever see. Fijians are awesome.
The Fijian Feeling: you can’t know until you go
While Fiji has a tropical climate, the real sunshine comes from the warmth of locals. Expect the biggest smiles and a Bula greeting that’s more than just words – it’s a true welcome, a deep and heartfelt appreciation that you came.
You should really go. Really.
Bula. Bula Manaka.
