A welcome home, to a foreign land.

by Marisha Jones - Lennon (Canada)

Making a local connection Fiji

"Kidavaki lesu tale ki na yanuyanu!" My smile must have given me away, must have said: it is a pleasure to meet you but this isn’t a language my tongue or mind can wrap around. His face cycled through confusion, realisation, then mild embarrassment and I fell a little more in love with this expressive nation; that stood as giants and laughed as children. Despite being at least a foot shorter than any Fijian woman I'd seen so far, each new person I met took turns in welcoming me back to this foreign island. They asked where my roots lay, surprised when I told them Jamaica and Wales and not one of a hundred Fijian islands. I spoke of how, though my two nations stood worlds apart, my parents had managed to weave both cultures so expertly into my very foundations. Taught me of Obeah Men, what it was to cwtch, and how to say goodbye to people through song and Nine Night. In response they told me of Kava and Meke and how when they first spotted me, they thought I was an Islander, long since left, whose return had heralded a briefly lived celebration. Spoke to me in their language not realising it wasn’t mine. Something in me called out to them, and though it warmed me, it also made me yearn for another island. One my soul belonged to, even if my body never had. I was supposed to have travelled down to the makeshift jetty with my group, in order to go snorkelling with the reef sharks; but on the way down the glint of silver under my sleeve had caught his attention. He had slowed to a stop just in front of me, and turning, he caught my wrist lightly. “The sharks are drawn to shiny things. They may be gentle by nature but they are still wild. You need to take this off before you get into the water.” “I…” How did I explain that this bracelet, this small piece of seemingly insignificant jewellery, was a tie to my heritage. A bond between me and my family from across the sea. This piece of polished metal that had not left my wrist in more than a decade. Once my cousin had slid it onto my tiny eleven year old wrist and explained it’s meaning, how could I possibly bare to separate from it. “Here are the anchor and the rope that allow us to navigate our waters safely. To work with the waves, the swell and the tide, so that the people can eat. And these here…” Colin had caught my wrist gently and spun it towards the light. “These are the precious animals that make up our waters. Existing together, a perfect balance.” Being asked to remove the bracelet felt enormous, like a mental trust fall. I already knew I had an expressive face, because it was the same one that looked back at me from a great grandmothers sharp gaze, and a grandmothers slightly gentler one. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when he already seemed to know that I was worried. “We islanders are the same, as brothers and sisters we must care for one another.” It was the first time I had seen a Fijian look so serious, and it was a strange and wonderful feeling to be so connected to these strangers. “If it is precious to you, then it is precious to me. I promise I will take care of this as though it were my own.” Eyes never leaving mine he tapped his top breast pocket. “I’ll keep it here, close to my heart where it will be safest. We of the islands-” “-Stick together.” We finished simultaneously, sharing a grin. With one more brief pause I unclasped the bracelet and slid it from my wrist, cradling it briefly in my palm. His hand closed around mine, and for a moment my mountains were his, his sands mine, our islands one.