Solotavui Village, Kavala, Kadavu 24 June David We are tucked up in a gorgeous bay, Kavala, at the eastern end of Kadavu.
Surrounded with high, steep, lush deep-green hills. They call this Little New Zealand and I can see why. Reminds us of the Sounds, but for the coral.?Such welcoming locals. We had no sooner put our anchor down than we were enthusiastically serenaded by a group of children ashore. We replied with our own songs which seemed well received. ?A passing family, returning from church in their fibre, a tough, versatile local boat, came on board with coconuts and pawpaw and then piloted us to a better anchorage. They stayed for tea and biscuits. We swapped songs and fell in love with one year old Lisi.
Yesterday we picked a dry spell and went ashore to do sevusevu at the village.
We joked with the Chief that the kava we presented was probably grown in the bay and bought in Suva just to be brought home again.
Sevusevu was followed with an extensive tour of the village guided by Luisa. *** Janet "These men are working on the pastor's place," said Luisa, pointing to a house nearby.
Bula," called a man in an old blue rugby jersey, then said something rapidly in Fijian.
"They are inviting you for yagona, would you like to go," Louisa translated.
"Yes please," I said. "We haven't tried Fijian kava yet." Inside the house there were 10 men sitting cross-legged on a mat, a large wooden bowl on feet in the middle of the room.
"Bula, my name is Joe." We introduced ourselves and Joe passed David a half coconut shell of brown liquid. He drank, and the men clapped four times. Joe refilled the shell and passed it to me. I'd heard that Fijian kava, called yaqona here, was stronger than in Tonga where we last partook. They clapped. I drank. It tasted part nutty, part aniseed and part river silt. It numbed my tongue a little and gave me a pleasant glow. The men were friendly and interested in us.
To get to the village we'd traversed a slippery muddy path over a hill and were not looking forward to the return journey.
"No, no, we go this way," said Luisa, pointing to the shoreline beyond the village.
Low tide had revealed a rocky beach all the way back to where the dinghy was tied up outside the local shop. Luisa helped us buy data for our Digicel simcard, and showed us how to set it up.
*** "We're gonna move," said David, donning his raincoat. We'd been sitting in the cockpit having a cup of tea discussing the day's events when suddenly the wind rose and started to change direction, threatening to push us onto the coral reef close behind the boat. I leapt below.
"Depth sounder shows 1.5 metres." I called.
Bit close. The rain was coming in sheets now.
Engine on, I get us up on the electronic chart, tiller down, David was winding the anchor in.
"Four meters now." Wind gusts push the bow round and I motor into the wind to take the load off the anchor.
"We're up," called David.
I turn the boat and motor across the bay to the lee of a headland.
"This is it," calls David. He releases the anchor chain and I motor back to lay out the chain. Gusts push us from side to side.
Back in the cabin, toweling his hair dry, David declares, "That calls for a shot of vodka." I glance at the clock, 4.30.
"Why not." I retrieve a green coconut from the basket in the cockpit and hand it to David. He deftly lops the top off it with a machete. Fingers still intact, he decants the nectar into the waiting shot glasses of vodka.