Thirty Days of Text – Civilise
* I just want to preface this with a little apology to my sister. If you ever read this, this is not a personal dig at you, but inspired by some of the questions you had (the personality of the characters are more inspired by others I know).
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“Moce! Vinaka vaka levu! Bye-Bye!”
The two woman turned around in the taxi to wave goodbye to the women of the village as they pulled out from the track back onto the bitumen. The cold blast from the airconditioning was a welcome relief from the searing midday heat and they slumped down in their seats, exhausted.
“They were lovely, weren’t they? I didn’t want to leave!” smiled Jasmine.
“I’m glad to be out of the heat, though,” muttered Millie. “I can’t believe how hot it was in that hall! How can they live like that?”
“That’s why everything’s on Fiji-time I guess,” replied Jasmine, toying with the handmade lei of flowers and leaves the women had given them.
“But yeah, they were really friendly but I kinda wanted to ask some questions like if they have TV or the internet and stuff. Or mobiles. Stuff like that.”
Jasmine paused to think, “Well, they did have aerials on some of the stone houses. Like the chief’s house, his house had a dish on it, so yeah, I guess they do.”
“But they don’t seem very civilised, do they?” scoffed Millie.
“What’s that meant to mean?”
“Well, some of those houses were made from plants and stuff and they were all in like old t-shirts and didn’t wear shoes and stuff. I mean, it was a village, like a tribal thing, right?”
“Jesus, Millie, I can’t believe you just said that!”
“What?! They weren’t wearing shoes! I’ve gotta say, though, they did speak pretty good English, I was surprised about that . . .” Millie was starting to pull the flowers from the knot in her lei, ripping the petals off and leaving them on the seat of the resort-provided taxi.
“Why were you surprised about that? Of course they speak English! They’re part of the friggin’ Commonwealth!”
“Really? So, like, they have the same Queen as us? I thought, ’cause they had like chiefs and stuff they were, like, I dunno, some kind of feudal society. You know, kinda,” and Millie dropped her voice so their driver wouldn’t hear, “backwards.”
“That’s just crass, Millie!” Jasmine spluttered. “These women – who have so little, may I remind you – just opened themselves up to us, welcomed us with open arms, smiles and hugs . . .”
“But I mean, that was a bit full-on, you know, hugging us like that!”
“No it wasn’t! They were so friendly, so warm to us even though we’re friggin’ spoilt, rich tourists – how are they not civilised? They fed us, greeted us, gave us kava . . .”
“Yeah, but that stuff was freaking awful! My mouth’s still numb!”
“That’s not the point! That’s like giving someone a bottle of wine or something when they come to visit you. God, I can’t believe you!”
“Whatever . . .” snorted Millie. “Wanna go in the pool and have cocktails when we’re back at the resort? Now that’s what I call civilisation!”
Jasmine didn’t respond and the two cousins spent the rest of the taxi journey in silence, through the fields and the forests on roads fringed with goats, skinny dogs and school children, back to the world of massages, pedicures, sunsets, pool-bars and silver service dining, a strange bubble where Fijian-time and Western ideas of service delivery collide; both Millie and Jasmine stewing on which one they preferred.
