Savusavu to Kioa Savusavu to Kioa Position: 16 40.212s 179 54.187e (written from Majuro, July 2016) Mon 26 Oct Fawn Harbour Horrible passage. 20-25 knot headwinds, more easterly than forecast, and we were heading due east. We'd left the wonderful womb of Savusavu the previous day, spending our first night anchored off the nearby Jacque Cousteau resort. We'd embarked on a two-day trip to Kioa, our last anchorage before the ocean passage to Rotuma. At Kioa we planned to join an annual celebration and reconnect with our new friend Kailopa.
After a rough day at sea, having to motor into the wind and sea for much of it, we arrived at Fawn Harbour late in the afternoon. It was absolutely calm in there and we breathed a sigh of relief as the anchor chain clattered over the bow.
*** Tues 27 Coral passage before breakfast anyone? Up early, main up, anchor up, and David up the mast, we headed out the pass. I was slightly queasy but managed a banana-pineapple smoothie for breakfast. We were loaded up with fruit from Savusavu. I usually kept it in a hammock slung under the bimini at the back of the cockpit but with previous day's rough sea it got bashed around. I couldn't put the delicate fruit into plastic bags inside the boat as it would have gone moldy in five minutes in the heat and humidity. I needed a large basket to store it in. I mentally scoured the boat. The laundry basket! I removed the dirty knickers and smelly tea-towels and loaded the fruit into it, putting the basket out on deck at night to get plenty of air. It worked.
The early morning sun glistened on the water. Dead ahead were the high peaks of Taveuni. To our left the eastern end of Vanua Levu was in sight. Out to sea I could see a surf break indicating a coral shelf jutting well out from the land. We'd have to go around it. We were motoring again but appreciated the light winds and calm seas after the previous day's lively seas. *** A breeze! David unfurled the headsail and let the main out. Eight knots of wind. Its cooling effect was bliss. But it soon died and our speed dropped to two knots, so engine on again, We settled into morning tea. Fresh pineapple with coffee. Kioa here we come.
*** Tuesday 27th Oct, Kioa David Kioa was a blast from before we stepped ashore. Kailopa guided us to an anchorage by phone and met us on the beach, garlanded in frangipani. The celebrations that we thought we had missed were still in full swing.
Kailopa, a 67 year old Tuvaluan, you may recall, we had met in September at Nananu I Ra with his nephew, Papu, where we learned a little of the history of his Fijian island, Kioa. Bought in the 1940s by the people of Vaitupu, an island in the Tuvalu chain, of whom a group of 30 moved to Kioa. It is today a thriving Tuvaluan community. Every year the people celebrate their migration and we were invited.
In the large hall by the shore a musical battle royal drowned all conversation as the youth, in two competing groups, pulled out all stops to outdo each other. Kailopa seated us in his allotted portion of the hall which is his, and his family's, for all time.
The drumming, dance and singing was spectacular, especially the drumming. Two men of each group beat empty biscuit tins with drumsticks, sounded like snare drums, loud and very fast. About 10 of each group beat a large mat- covered plywood box with their hands. The combined effect was riveting. Drumming was interspersed with slow, sensual dance by the young men and women, often augmented by spontaneous displays by older villagers. At one point Kailopa got to his feet and hobbled slowly on his arthritic legs to join the dancers. An elaborate grass skirt was tied around him and he began to sway to the rhythm. All evidence of arthritis fell away as his body remembered the moves he knew so well. He was the embodiment of grace and style and drew huge applause.
*** Janet We could tell we were back in Polynesia, this tiny piece of Tuvalu embedded in Fiji, by the pungent frangipane headdresses and bright floral prints everyone was wearing. After the performances a dozen different people got up and spoke. Alas it was all in Tuvaluan so we couldn't understand what was said but the audience was roaring with laughter.
Kailopa gave us a tour of the village. It was thriving, beautifully kept, with virtually none of the litter that often mars Fijian villages. He explained there was no crime here. On the rare occasion someone fell out of line, the person's family had a to make a meal for the whole village as reparation. That means feeding about 500 people. They don't usually transgress again.
Here, as we saw on many other islands, they were building a wall to stop the sea encroaching on the village.
On our tour we met various family members. One woman, a cousin, had just taken four loaves of bread out of the oven and David commented on how good it smelt. She promptly gave us one. This was not the flimsy skinny Fijian bread we'd had till now, but a big buxom loaf. Later we confirmed it's quality with lashings of butter and jam.
"Come for dinner at 6," Kailopa said, as we climbed into the dinghy to head to the boat for a nap. An hour later we were back on shore and David and Kailopa were instantly absorbed into a group of men drinking kava in a fale on the beach. Kailopa's grandson, Robert, materialised and led me to their house where I watched his daughter-in-law prepare our meal. Once the food was all loaded into bowls we carried it to the hall. Everyone had their own picnic dinners, then the dancing began. Not Pacific Island dancing but disco, and I swear everyone was over 50! David At some point in the evening Kailopa commented wistfully, "I always wanted to cross a bit of ocean. Sail to my home island, Vaitupu." "Well, you should come with us then." I replied.
There followed a long silence. "Maybe I will." Exhausted from jiving the night away we said goodnight to Kailopa wondering what the morning would bring. We were fixed on setting out for Rotuma and doubted Kailopa could get organised so quickly.