Sea Cucumbers, Sevusevu & Plenty of Exercise

Taro Plantation

Still anchored off the east end of the island of Qamea, we were in the process of making plans to pick up and move off westwards when we received an invitation to visit Oco (pronounced Oh-though), the chap in the one and only house nearby; the one where the sea cucumbers are processed.  We jumped at the chance – why rush off? Isn’t this why we came to these out-of-the-way anchorages in the first place?

Oco greeted us warmly and handed us over to Nitin, the fellow connected to the Chinese who were sponsoring the operation.  Nitin explained to us the procedures involved in the process of creating bêche de mer and answered our questions on how the Chinese used these (far from delightful looking) creatures as well as our concerns about the environmental impact. Something’s got to give whenever an item is removed from the food chain in such quantities but we weren’t able to establish what, if anything, fed off these things (apart from the Chinese that is). 

A single one, about the length of your lower arm, would pay them about $25. By the time it landed on a table in China, it could be worth several hundred. I think if a thing is alive or it moves (no matter how slowly), the Chinese will eat it. I’m so glad I was born into a middle class, first world Western environment.  The worst I can remember while growing up was my parents eating tripe however, they never forced it upon us as kids for which I am eternally grateful.

Drying in the sun

During our visit, the local chief arrived which gave us the opportunity to experience our first sevusevu.  The ceremony of sevusevu (not to be confused with the town of Savusavu) is an important custom which requires all visitors to a village or an island to make a presentation of kava root to the Turagini Koro or Chief.  It is a solemn ceremony in which the chief will welcome the visitors offering his protection and all reasonable assistance and allow free access to the village, the adjacent beaches, water and reefs which are considered village property.  Kava is the root which is ground and infused in water to make the local grog, a hallucinogenic muddy drink consumed in great quantities in much of the South Pacific. 

Chief Rata Chow (or at least that’s what it sounded like) went through the formal practice of welcoming us and gave us permission to wander anywhere within his domain which proved to be rather extensive. Oco treated us to bu, drinking coconuts that were excellent and thirst quenching so we settled in to learn more or their lives and customs.  During this time, it came out that his fibreglass dinghy is in need of patching so Paul has volunteered to fix it up for him once he’s found the necessary plug for the generator to run his angle grinder ashore.

The following day we hiked over to the village in the next bay with a barefooted Oco leading the way.  The chief had indicated that it was about an hour and half’s walk which then got revised to about 2 hours.  What is it with these Fijians, it took us 3 and a half hours!  We set off early with the low tide, trudging through fairly muddy, ankle deep waters for the first hour or so.  Once we got around the point, I was a tad horrified to see the village as a group of tiny dots in the far distance way over on the other side of the bay miles away.  We left the shoreline and headed into the jungle, onto a (sort of) path thick with mud and a zillion roots designed to trip you up on every step.  However, it really was very beautiful and we eventually got to a flatter, more open region where we passed plantations of cassava and taro in amongst thick tropical growth with the odd papaya and banana tree thrown in.

Weaving a floor mat

Eventually there it was, the village.  At this stage, we were advised to don our sulus, (sarongs) as it was considered inappropriate to wander around the village in shorts or to show much flesh.  Hats also had to be removed.  We then proceeded to take a slow walk through and around the village with all the village children rushing out shouting valangis valangis (white people). It proved to be a delightful spot, clean and very well maintained and, as with the rest of Fiji, very friendly.  During a heavy downpour, we were invited into one home to shelter and then shown the ladies weaving huge floor mats in another.  One of the reasons for embarking on this expedition was to get Paul a plug for his angle grinder so Oco rummaged around his village home and came up with a suitable solution.   

Mission accomplished, we were ready to head back. No, we didn’t have to trek back three and a half hours (with the rising tide, it would have been impossible anyway).  Kim for Auspice was with us on the way there and her husband, Jim, had come around in our dinghy so our transport was waiting.  It proved to be a very boisterous and wet trip back with five in the dinghy but it sure as hell beat walking all the way.  Need I mention that the rest of the day was spent in a very comfortable, horizontal position.

 PHOTO GALLERY:

Nitin demonstrates drying process

Hand woven floor mat

Oco prepares bu

And we drink it

Chief's house in bush

Hiking to village

Bundu (bush) bashing

Cassava Plantation

Tropical growth

Fijian Bure (house)

Arriving at village

Welcoming respite from rainy deluge

Ceremonial mats