On July 8, 2008, I embarked on a journey to Nadi, Fiji in order to find relief from my insurmountable grief of losing a grandmother. At the young age of sixteen, I discovered life was a frightening battle filled to the brim with agony, loss and trauma. Drowning in a sea of depression, I needed a spark of courage to ignite my inner survivor and continue my frightful journey of living, learning and being.
Upon my People-to-People Student Ambassadors group’s arrival, we we’re greeted like royalty and received traditional, hand-crafted Fijian lei garlands made from shells. Aboard the tour bus, we traveled down the main road of Nadi toward the Sri Sia Subramaniya temple as I watched an unknown world pass by through the window-seat lens.
Unlike my small hometown of Victorville, California, Fiji had no freeways, no paved roads, no divider lines, just dirt in the middle of a vast forest terrain. The houses here reminded me of the abandoned houses I had seen in the middle of the desert – small, unlivable spaces. I was unhappy with my privileged life while these families lived in conditions I couldn’t even conjure up in my wildest dreams, and they seemed happier than I’ve ever remembered being.
The Sri Sia Subramaniya temple was crafted with intricate patterns and vivid colors. Although I didn’t know much about Hinduism, the dedication to building a beautiful monument to their faith, tug at my inner emptiness and revealed a strong desire to find a faith of my own.
The Naviti Resort in Korolevu, Fiji was more of what one would expect at the thought of Fiji – tropical gardens and a beautiful beach overlooking the vast Pacific Ocean. I met Asi Vosakiwaiwai here, the local Fijian security guard from a nearby village called Naivuruvuru. He took interest in my American lifestyle and wanted to know more about guns, a foreign object to him that was only available to the Fijian military. He was brave in my eyes, not worried about how other Fijians could hurt him. Pain was inevitable in any life, but here people chose to be happy and worked together to overcome the inconveniences they faced.
In the Navua River Village in Sigatoka, I was consumed by the joy radiating off of families gathering in celebration. We danced, we drank Kava, we watched children play barefoot and we rejoiced in each other’s mere company. I realized without knowledge of material possessions, one could live a happy life in a small hut so long as they were surrounded by people who loved and admired them. Life would bring both pain and joy, but if you saw through the eyes of a true Fijian, you would only see joy.
After crossing the International Date Line on my journey back home, at 37,000 feet above the earth in seat 54J, I realized this was my second chance. I could live my life with a newly found fortitude from the Fijian people and share it with people like myself, who needed to find a reason to stay alive. I found my strength in Fiji.
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