It was the last official day of school for the children. The original plan was to take them to Deuba ("deh-umba") park, but strong winds suggestive of a developing cyclone thwarted our day trip plans. No one fancied the idea of fishing out shivering children from freezing cold water or reversing the effects of hypothermia...if that's at all possible in Fiji. Of course, the children were severely disappointed. Their hopes as damp as my therapy room. ...nah, nothing can be wetter than that.
Just going off the track a bit, but here's something a little amusing:
There exists within the school a single manilla folder labelled "OH+S". Within this folder is a single sheet of paper which lists briefly certain aspects of the school that require reviewing. One of them is a lack of fire alarm/sensing system. On the second half of the page are a few strategies that have been brainstormed to solve the school's OH+S issues.
Recently, the school was donated a large amount of money from a very generous association. It was suggested that the money should be used to put in place a flashing light alarm system for the hearing impaired department in case of fire. Neighbouring the hearing impaired classrooms are classrooms where there are able-hearing teachers and students. The school is set up in such a way that a classroom of physically impaired children has to pass a hearing impaired classroom to exit the school. Due to their reduced auditory input, the hearing impaired children generally have a heightened sense of smell. Rather than hearing a person coming, they smell a person coming. In fact, they could even smell a fire better than you or I. This is provided that the school is dry enough to catch on fire - which is how this tangent is developed.
So yes, the spirits of the children were dampened, on par with the dampness of the school itself.
Our head teacher called a meeting to decide what was to be done with the children as an alternative for the day. Meetings are interesting. For the most part, the head teacher will take the floor, not because she likes the sound of her own voice, but if she doesn't there is usually a mammoth of awkward silence placed on the table. People are mostly too soft spoken to bring their ideas forward to the group. They much prefer to discuss it with their neighbour and hope that the head teacher over hears them. We tossed up ideas of driving them to Deuba next year and sending them home today. There was also talk of driving 2 and a half hours to kula bird park in Sigatoka, but half of the kids had already been, so of course we couldn't go there again. Ideas kept throwing themselves about but would land lifeless and limp on teh table once another teacher had shot it down. Finally, someone suggested that we go to Village 6 - our local cinema.
We looked up the movie times and we had the choice of Harry Potter, or a fine selection of bad-boy rough and tough, shoot-em-up movies. Excellent range for a school trip. Most movies were starting at 10:20 and it was now 10:00. This happened to be an appropriate time for debating about how we were going to get there and where was the money to pay for it. A lengthy discussion ensued and it was finally decided at 10:20 that we would pack 40 kids onto a mini school bus and cart them down to Village 6. The children would be paid for and any adults who wanted to go would have to pay for themselves.
10:30 we arrived at Village 6 and the movies had already commenced. We were standing at the ticket box. No one knew which movie we were seeing. I assumed we were seeing Harry Potter as it was the only mildly child-friendly movie appropriate for children as young as 6 years old. Somehow, the ticket lady managed to convince us that the movie called "Faster" was rated G and so she sold us 40 tickets. We ushered the children in as quickly as possible and what followed was the most awkward, uncomfortable movie viewing experience I have ever had.
In case you haven't heard of the movie, "Faster", it's got that huge wrestler-turn-actor guy. Now, in the short 15 minutes that we were in the cinema (and 15 minutes too long), we saw the following scenes:
- a car chase with lots of swearing (this was only minimally awkward)
- a semi-naked muscley man doing a series of hard-core yoga poses who then turns soft-core porn when he wakes his naked lady friend whose rude bits are draped by a sheet.
- a heist scene in which the presumed bad guys are torturing the presumed good guys into giving information with guns pointed at their head and shooting past their ears (this is me squirming in my chair wanting to run to the younger ones to cover their eyes and ears)
- an old man pretending to be a little bit more frail than he actually is so that he can lure a young woman into his apartment, drug her and then....
Finally, it was decided that the movie was too violent and inappropriate for the children. And sure enough, we made a beeline to cinema 1 where Harry Potter was about 30 minutes in.
It was such a comforting noise to hear the children laugh and gasp in response to the movie. I was so glad to be out of the other cinema. I couldn't stop writhing and twitching out of awkwardness and discomfort. No child should ever be viewing such violent scenes. I have no idea how the ticket lady thought it was even appropriate to suggest that movie to a bunch of 6-18 year old kids.
Anyway, sega na leqa, in the end the children had fun and even pretended to be fighting wizards when they returned to school!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
DAILY ROUTINE
Apologies about the hiatus in posting. I have become accustomed to Fiji time and attitudes of: mmmyes, it will get done...or maybe not. I believe that my mother's main concern about me coming to Fiji has come true. That is, excluding the ohter concern of my mother's which was to avoid bringing home any local Fijian boyfriends - at any cost.
It's not that nothing's been happening. In fact, a lot has happened. I spend about 2 hours a day debriefing with the whole household at the end of each working day and I've been away on heaps of weekend trips.
There's also been Diwali where we all dressed up in Salwar Kameez (apologies about incorrect spelling) and went to Emily's teacher's house for an amazing Diwali lunch:
It also sounded like a warzone on Diwali night with fireworks being set off across the whole of Fiji. There was even a fireworks display in the middle of our street. This was courtesy of our neighbours who probably spent hundreds of Fijian dollars on explosives. We also dabbled in a bit of pyrotechnics ourselves. In fact, I've never set off fireworks and just HAD to live up to my ancestors invention of gunpowder and fireworks. Seeing as everyone here thinks I'm from China and they stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I'm from Australia, it was completely warranted that I set off a ridiculous amount of fireworks to live up to my stereotype.
Au dau vuli vosa Vakaviti e na Moniti. Au a sega ni rawa ni vosa Vakaviti baleta, au sa exceptionally embarrassed to try.
I also finally found Nemo...but maybe I'll leave that for another post.
Finally, before I get on with the main story, I've discovered that everything grows mould here. Even my milo. You know how milo gets spilled on the rim of the tin when you spoon more than the recommended heaped teaspoon amount into your cup? Well, those little bits of milo that have been left behind on the rim of the tin have actually managed to grow mould. It's also a wonder that my stomach isn't more upset when I proceed with eating my fried noodles despite discovering that the oyster sauce that I had poured into it actually had a layer of mould growing on its surface.
Anyway, I thought I'd go into detail about my daily routine at school:
Lauren and I catch the bus to school. Sometimes we run into Kelvin or Peni who are students at the school. Other times, we run into Meg who's the other volunteer pharmacist at the hospital across the road from the school. Most of the time it's pouring down with rain and if I'm lucky, Viliame will walk up the driveway with an umbrella to cover me on my walk from the road, down the driveway and into the school.
We say "Yadra" to Mrs Wright who is usually sweeping the front assembly area or is in the office tapping away at the typewriter. "Tina" is usually there sitting with Mrs Wright and greets us with her slurred "Good Morning!".
We walk down the corridor to our double doors to the therapy room. As it has been raining heavily recently, Lauren and I like to guess which part of the room contains either a flood or a waterfall. I usually guess that the left side of the room is flooded and Lauren will predict a waterfall on the right side of the room. Most of the time, we are both correct.
Following the discovery of a flooded therapy room (which also happens to be a perfect example of what not to do to maintain OH&S standards), I unlock the cupboard to take out the aeroguard. While Lauren sprays herself with aeroguard, I busy myself with lighting a mosquito coil. "Sarah" will ALWAYS walk over to us and ask "This, the what?" which Lauren in all her Speech Pathology glory will correct her: "What is this for?". And EVERYTIME we will have to explain to her that the can is called "Aeroguard" and it "helps keep the mozzies away".
Now, everyone is exceptionally protective of their possessions at school. This also includes the mop which is desperately needed to mop the many puddles on the therapy room floor. It's extremely annoying that there is no mop at school and so the room stays flooded until Aunty Una gets to school (about 2 hours later) to mop the floor.
Student "Mary" will arrive on the first trip of the school bus. Sometimes she puts her hands over our eyes to play "Guess who?". She makes a good effort, but it's so easy to tell that it's her because of the way she holds her hemiplegic (weak) hand over my eyes. She then asks: "Today is who?". Which Lauren then corrects her: "Who is exercising today?". Which Mary then replies: "Today, me? Me and who?". Everytime she asks this, I tell her to read the timetable (because I think it's a very important skill to know how to read a timetable). Slowly, she reads out all the names that I have listed for the day. If her name is listed, she'll hiss out an excited "yessssss!" and run to her classroom.
From there, the day rolls on but with varying events depending on what day it is.
It's not that nothing's been happening. In fact, a lot has happened. I spend about 2 hours a day debriefing with the whole household at the end of each working day and I've been away on heaps of weekend trips.
There's also been Diwali where we all dressed up in Salwar Kameez (apologies about incorrect spelling) and went to Emily's teacher's house for an amazing Diwali lunch:
It also sounded like a warzone on Diwali night with fireworks being set off across the whole of Fiji. There was even a fireworks display in the middle of our street. This was courtesy of our neighbours who probably spent hundreds of Fijian dollars on explosives. We also dabbled in a bit of pyrotechnics ourselves. In fact, I've never set off fireworks and just HAD to live up to my ancestors invention of gunpowder and fireworks. Seeing as everyone here thinks I'm from China and they stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I'm from Australia, it was completely warranted that I set off a ridiculous amount of fireworks to live up to my stereotype.
Au dau vuli vosa Vakaviti e na Moniti. Au a sega ni rawa ni vosa Vakaviti baleta, au sa exceptionally embarrassed to try.
I also finally found Nemo...but maybe I'll leave that for another post.
Finally, before I get on with the main story, I've discovered that everything grows mould here. Even my milo. You know how milo gets spilled on the rim of the tin when you spoon more than the recommended heaped teaspoon amount into your cup? Well, those little bits of milo that have been left behind on the rim of the tin have actually managed to grow mould. It's also a wonder that my stomach isn't more upset when I proceed with eating my fried noodles despite discovering that the oyster sauce that I had poured into it actually had a layer of mould growing on its surface.
Anyway, I thought I'd go into detail about my daily routine at school:
Lauren and I catch the bus to school. Sometimes we run into Kelvin or Peni who are students at the school. Other times, we run into Meg who's the other volunteer pharmacist at the hospital across the road from the school. Most of the time it's pouring down with rain and if I'm lucky, Viliame will walk up the driveway with an umbrella to cover me on my walk from the road, down the driveway and into the school.
We say "Yadra" to Mrs Wright who is usually sweeping the front assembly area or is in the office tapping away at the typewriter. "Tina" is usually there sitting with Mrs Wright and greets us with her slurred "Good Morning!".
We walk down the corridor to our double doors to the therapy room. As it has been raining heavily recently, Lauren and I like to guess which part of the room contains either a flood or a waterfall. I usually guess that the left side of the room is flooded and Lauren will predict a waterfall on the right side of the room. Most of the time, we are both correct.
Following the discovery of a flooded therapy room (which also happens to be a perfect example of what not to do to maintain OH&S standards), I unlock the cupboard to take out the aeroguard. While Lauren sprays herself with aeroguard, I busy myself with lighting a mosquito coil. "Sarah" will ALWAYS walk over to us and ask "This, the what?" which Lauren in all her Speech Pathology glory will correct her: "What is this for?". And EVERYTIME we will have to explain to her that the can is called "Aeroguard" and it "helps keep the mozzies away".
Now, everyone is exceptionally protective of their possessions at school. This also includes the mop which is desperately needed to mop the many puddles on the therapy room floor. It's extremely annoying that there is no mop at school and so the room stays flooded until Aunty Una gets to school (about 2 hours later) to mop the floor.
Student "Mary" will arrive on the first trip of the school bus. Sometimes she puts her hands over our eyes to play "Guess who?". She makes a good effort, but it's so easy to tell that it's her because of the way she holds her hemiplegic (weak) hand over my eyes. She then asks: "Today is who?". Which Lauren then corrects her: "Who is exercising today?". Which Mary then replies: "Today, me? Me and who?". Everytime she asks this, I tell her to read the timetable (because I think it's a very important skill to know how to read a timetable). Slowly, she reads out all the names that I have listed for the day. If her name is listed, she'll hiss out an excited "yessssss!" and run to her classroom.
From there, the day rolls on but with varying events depending on what day it is.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
SIGATOKA GAMES
Last week our school attended the annual National Special School Games in Sigatoka ("Sing-a-toka"). Sigatoka is at the central southish of Viti Levu, just over half way to Nadi from Suva.
The school games are organised for all special schools across Fiji. They have athletics, seated sports such as table cricket and junior games which consists of games like throwing balls at targets, bouncing balls to each other etc. And of course, no Fijian sports meet would be complete without a rugby and soccer competition.
Our school has been preparing for the Sigatoka games since term 3 started in September. It has consumed the school. Every afternoon was dedicated to sports, if it wasn't raining. Teachers pulled themselves out of their own classes to organise things for the school games. School work was being left by the wayside as sports took precedence. It's like the whole world stopped to ensure that the games ran smoothly.
What I haven't been entirely impressed with is the fact that those who are not able to walk by themselves or require mobility aids (frames and wheelchairs) will usually sit outside with nothing to do for the whole afternoon. There were some table sports organised for those who were actually going to Sigatoka, but if for thsoe who weren't going to Sigatoka AND for those who needed assistance with walking or moving, then they were left to sit on the sidelines to watch the others prepare. I believe that the idea of whole school involvement needs refinement.
So, when I should've been observing how the school runs sports, I took it upon myself to see those who were left out for 1:1 therapy. Anyway, that's another story.
Last week, we headed off on a bus together to Sigatoka:
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We had packed away our belongings for three days, food and drink to feed the entire school for 3 days, sports uniforms and sports equipment. Unlike Australia where your school camp provides all the amenities for you, the children were to bring their own named plate and cup. You also need to bring all of your bedding which usually includes a Fijian pandanus mat, a sleeping bag or sheet and pillow. There aren't any facilities dedicated to school camps, so instead, we stay in a village called Volivoli. We also had to bring customary gifts for the village that we were staying.
When we arrived, the children had to quickly change into their Bula shirts to wear for the schools' parade.
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They marched together into the stadium and were sat down in the harsh Sigatoka sunlight. Apparently the meaning of Sigatoka is something along the lines of "the place where the Sun stays for a long time". Today, its presence was felt strongly, and children began to become agitated and uncomfortable. We were requested to sit for the entire duration of the speeches - many of which were long and not quite aimed at the children who were to be partaking in the sports. In addition to this the speakers, as they commonly are in Fiji, were about 20 decibels too loud and so everything became incoherent and muffled. Maybe they knew that half of the population were hearing impaired. Eventually, everyone slowly drifted towards the shade of the spectator stands. Then, each school was invited to perform a dance in front of all of the participating schools.
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Now, I think my Dad will be quite frightened at the next mini-story. The children all saw that I had my camera. They don't usually get access to luxury items and technology is so expensive in Fiji things like cameras are a novelty. I made the mistake of allowing one of the older students to take photos with my camera and of course ALL of the children wanted to have a go. There was a bit of snatching and lense touching going on so I quickly tucked it away after scolding those who had started to snatch.
Being at this camp made me realise how badly behaved these children are. There is a lot of hitting, punching and pinching going on between students. Some adults don't really set good examples either. They especially like to play around with other people's possessions without asking. They were all very intrigued with my foam mattress because there are none like them in Fiji. A lot of them tried to deface my mat by writing their name by digging their nails into my foam mat. I was right there when they were doing it as well, so apparently they thought that this was completely acceptable behaviour.
There are plenty of taddletales and getting the children to say sorry to each other is like squeezing blood out of stone. One of the children who wanted my camera got a bit hissy that I wouldn't let her have a go. She proceeded to jump on me and eventually managed to hit me. The normal "punishment" for discipline would be a flick in the ear or a pinch on the arm. Following this, the child would normally run away and forget about what had happened. Instead, I had to chase her around until she would be still, stood her in front of me and demanded that she apologise. She tried walking away but I kept following her, not wanting to grab her or hold her against her will. She eventually started crying and stopped and then cried at me. Oh, I also forgot to mention that this girl is hearing impaired and I found it incredibly difficult to sign to her that she had not been nice and had to say sorry. Finally, she signed to me that she was sorry and ran away to her big sister.
Dinner was served and just like we had done in the villages on the cross island walk, we sat down on the ground in the centre of the hall to nourish ourselves with energy for the sports meet ahead. As always, when staying at a village, we were required to partake in a sevusevu ceremony. The ceremony, as usual, was presented in Fijian. My Fijian is nowhere near fluent at the moment. However, this time, the teachers had to interpret it into sign language. My sign language is also not fluent, but I had much more understanding of what was being said in the speech. The village chief welcomed us and thanked us for the gifts we had brought to his village. He wished us luck for the upcoming games and then the customary kava consuming commenced.
The children were asked to perform their dance for the villagers. One of the teachers, who happens to be hearing impaired was in charge of putting on the music for the dancing. She knew which track it was and right on cue, put it on accordingly. Being hearing impaired, she felt for the wind in front of the speakers to make sure it was on. What she didn't realise though, was that when she had moved back to her original seated position, she had knocked the tape player and skipped it to a different track. Of course, she hadn't noticed and watched as she wondered why everyone had stopped dancing. After a quick shuffling of tracks by one of the non hearing-impaired teachers, the music was back on and the dancing continued:
Then it was time for a wash and time for bed. Teachers were invited outside to drink kava. My night was filled with tossing and turning and trying to find a comfortable position on the concrete surface. Unfortunately, my foam mat didn't provide the cushioning that I needed for my bony hips. Finally, when I thought that I had assumed a comfortable position, the mosquitos started buzzing around my head and biting every bit of exposed skin that I had. Of course, it had to be stinking hot in the hall, so sleeping under a my sauna sleeping bag became a voided option. As soon as I had nodded off, the teachers returned from their drinking session, and shortly, the room filled with snores of the teachers, magnified by their numbed, floppy throats.
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As it seems with all villages, the rooster was our wake up call as we groggily rolled over and removed ourselves from our sleeping positions. The children packed away their sleeping things and filled up with a two course breakfast. Weetbix, followed by bread, pie, cake and longloaf.
.jpg)
We headed out for a day of games and athletics. They had races for 25 metres, 50 metres and 100 metres. They held the 400 and 800 metres in the middle of the day when the sun was at its most severe. Unfortunately, they had a number of children collapsing at the finishing line becuase they had been overheated and dehydrated. The juniors were taken to Sigatoka special school to participate in the Pacific Juniour Games (whose acronym was PGS and I'm not entirely sure how that ended up passing into print). Again, the heat got the better of the children as they tried their best to stay focussed on the games in the sun.
The teachers also had a relay race which I participated in. I saw the Hilton Teachers gathering at the marshalling area. No one had really notified me that it was going ahead, but I had a feeling that gathering teachers must have meant marshalling for the teachers relay. Luckily I've learnt to hone my observing skills a bit as they were indeed marshalling and pulled me into the line when they saw me. In the relay was Bella, the Australian Gap volunteer, Teacher Alisi, the transition teacher, myself, and Luisa, one of the students' carers and school cook.
There were 3 false starts to our race. I think all of the teachers competing were incredibly nervous. Most of them couldn't remember the last time that they ran and the rest of them weren't even sure if they still had the motor ability to coordinate a run at all. As a general rule, the phlegmatic nature of a Fijian is to avoid running at all costs. As for myself, I hadn't sprinted in a while and could feel the adrenaline almost emanating out of my body. Thank god for the flight or fight response.
The race started for the fourth time after the teachers finally started at the right time. Bella ran first and bolted towards teacher Alisi. Bella, being quite fast was one of the first to make the baton exchange. Then Teacher Alisi ran as fast as she possibly could towards me. She had been a runner in the past and managed to maintain the lead that Bella had set. From the stands I could hear the students yelling: "Go Alisi Go! Go Alisi Go! GO ALISI GO!". The baton was handed over to me. All the adrenaline whooshed down to my legs and them on propelling myself along as fast as humanly possible. As I rounded the bend, I could see that there wasn't anyone around me anymore. Faintly, I could here the students yelling "GO AMANDA GO! GO AMANDA GO! GO AMANDA GO!". I ran even faster as I came towards Luisa. I yelled out after her to run as fast as she could. As she ran off, a manly looking woman was catching up behind her. Luisa ran as hard and as fast as she possibly could, but the manly woman caught up with her and beat her at the finish line. Later, I discovered that the manly woman was not a woman, but was in fact, a manly man.
Anyway, we were very happy with the way the team had run and gave each other high fives and hugs for doing so well. I returned back to the spectators stand to give all the children high fives. They were all incredibly impressed at how fast I could run. Those who were most impressed were the teenage boys. I think my respect levels just went up a few notches in their eyes.
The school games are organised for all special schools across Fiji. They have athletics, seated sports such as table cricket and junior games which consists of games like throwing balls at targets, bouncing balls to each other etc. And of course, no Fijian sports meet would be complete without a rugby and soccer competition.
Our school has been preparing for the Sigatoka games since term 3 started in September. It has consumed the school. Every afternoon was dedicated to sports, if it wasn't raining. Teachers pulled themselves out of their own classes to organise things for the school games. School work was being left by the wayside as sports took precedence. It's like the whole world stopped to ensure that the games ran smoothly.
What I haven't been entirely impressed with is the fact that those who are not able to walk by themselves or require mobility aids (frames and wheelchairs) will usually sit outside with nothing to do for the whole afternoon. There were some table sports organised for those who were actually going to Sigatoka, but if for thsoe who weren't going to Sigatoka AND for those who needed assistance with walking or moving, then they were left to sit on the sidelines to watch the others prepare. I believe that the idea of whole school involvement needs refinement.
So, when I should've been observing how the school runs sports, I took it upon myself to see those who were left out for 1:1 therapy. Anyway, that's another story.
Last week, we headed off on a bus together to Sigatoka:
.jpg)
We had packed away our belongings for three days, food and drink to feed the entire school for 3 days, sports uniforms and sports equipment. Unlike Australia where your school camp provides all the amenities for you, the children were to bring their own named plate and cup. You also need to bring all of your bedding which usually includes a Fijian pandanus mat, a sleeping bag or sheet and pillow. There aren't any facilities dedicated to school camps, so instead, we stay in a village called Volivoli. We also had to bring customary gifts for the village that we were staying.
When we arrived, the children had to quickly change into their Bula shirts to wear for the schools' parade.
.jpg)
They marched together into the stadium and were sat down in the harsh Sigatoka sunlight. Apparently the meaning of Sigatoka is something along the lines of "the place where the Sun stays for a long time". Today, its presence was felt strongly, and children began to become agitated and uncomfortable. We were requested to sit for the entire duration of the speeches - many of which were long and not quite aimed at the children who were to be partaking in the sports. In addition to this the speakers, as they commonly are in Fiji, were about 20 decibels too loud and so everything became incoherent and muffled. Maybe they knew that half of the population were hearing impaired. Eventually, everyone slowly drifted towards the shade of the spectator stands. Then, each school was invited to perform a dance in front of all of the participating schools.
.jpg)
Now, I think my Dad will be quite frightened at the next mini-story. The children all saw that I had my camera. They don't usually get access to luxury items and technology is so expensive in Fiji things like cameras are a novelty. I made the mistake of allowing one of the older students to take photos with my camera and of course ALL of the children wanted to have a go. There was a bit of snatching and lense touching going on so I quickly tucked it away after scolding those who had started to snatch.
Being at this camp made me realise how badly behaved these children are. There is a lot of hitting, punching and pinching going on between students. Some adults don't really set good examples either. They especially like to play around with other people's possessions without asking. They were all very intrigued with my foam mattress because there are none like them in Fiji. A lot of them tried to deface my mat by writing their name by digging their nails into my foam mat. I was right there when they were doing it as well, so apparently they thought that this was completely acceptable behaviour.
There are plenty of taddletales and getting the children to say sorry to each other is like squeezing blood out of stone. One of the children who wanted my camera got a bit hissy that I wouldn't let her have a go. She proceeded to jump on me and eventually managed to hit me. The normal "punishment" for discipline would be a flick in the ear or a pinch on the arm. Following this, the child would normally run away and forget about what had happened. Instead, I had to chase her around until she would be still, stood her in front of me and demanded that she apologise. She tried walking away but I kept following her, not wanting to grab her or hold her against her will. She eventually started crying and stopped and then cried at me. Oh, I also forgot to mention that this girl is hearing impaired and I found it incredibly difficult to sign to her that she had not been nice and had to say sorry. Finally, she signed to me that she was sorry and ran away to her big sister.
Dinner was served and just like we had done in the villages on the cross island walk, we sat down on the ground in the centre of the hall to nourish ourselves with energy for the sports meet ahead. As always, when staying at a village, we were required to partake in a sevusevu ceremony. The ceremony, as usual, was presented in Fijian. My Fijian is nowhere near fluent at the moment. However, this time, the teachers had to interpret it into sign language. My sign language is also not fluent, but I had much more understanding of what was being said in the speech. The village chief welcomed us and thanked us for the gifts we had brought to his village. He wished us luck for the upcoming games and then the customary kava consuming commenced.
The children were asked to perform their dance for the villagers. One of the teachers, who happens to be hearing impaired was in charge of putting on the music for the dancing. She knew which track it was and right on cue, put it on accordingly. Being hearing impaired, she felt for the wind in front of the speakers to make sure it was on. What she didn't realise though, was that when she had moved back to her original seated position, she had knocked the tape player and skipped it to a different track. Of course, she hadn't noticed and watched as she wondered why everyone had stopped dancing. After a quick shuffling of tracks by one of the non hearing-impaired teachers, the music was back on and the dancing continued:
Then it was time for a wash and time for bed. Teachers were invited outside to drink kava. My night was filled with tossing and turning and trying to find a comfortable position on the concrete surface. Unfortunately, my foam mat didn't provide the cushioning that I needed for my bony hips. Finally, when I thought that I had assumed a comfortable position, the mosquitos started buzzing around my head and biting every bit of exposed skin that I had. Of course, it had to be stinking hot in the hall, so sleeping under a my sauna sleeping bag became a voided option. As soon as I had nodded off, the teachers returned from their drinking session, and shortly, the room filled with snores of the teachers, magnified by their numbed, floppy throats.
.jpg)
As it seems with all villages, the rooster was our wake up call as we groggily rolled over and removed ourselves from our sleeping positions. The children packed away their sleeping things and filled up with a two course breakfast. Weetbix, followed by bread, pie, cake and longloaf.
.jpg)
We headed out for a day of games and athletics. They had races for 25 metres, 50 metres and 100 metres. They held the 400 and 800 metres in the middle of the day when the sun was at its most severe. Unfortunately, they had a number of children collapsing at the finishing line becuase they had been overheated and dehydrated. The juniors were taken to Sigatoka special school to participate in the Pacific Juniour Games (whose acronym was PGS and I'm not entirely sure how that ended up passing into print). Again, the heat got the better of the children as they tried their best to stay focussed on the games in the sun.
The teachers also had a relay race which I participated in. I saw the Hilton Teachers gathering at the marshalling area. No one had really notified me that it was going ahead, but I had a feeling that gathering teachers must have meant marshalling for the teachers relay. Luckily I've learnt to hone my observing skills a bit as they were indeed marshalling and pulled me into the line when they saw me. In the relay was Bella, the Australian Gap volunteer, Teacher Alisi, the transition teacher, myself, and Luisa, one of the students' carers and school cook.
There were 3 false starts to our race. I think all of the teachers competing were incredibly nervous. Most of them couldn't remember the last time that they ran and the rest of them weren't even sure if they still had the motor ability to coordinate a run at all. As a general rule, the phlegmatic nature of a Fijian is to avoid running at all costs. As for myself, I hadn't sprinted in a while and could feel the adrenaline almost emanating out of my body. Thank god for the flight or fight response.
The race started for the fourth time after the teachers finally started at the right time. Bella ran first and bolted towards teacher Alisi. Bella, being quite fast was one of the first to make the baton exchange. Then Teacher Alisi ran as fast as she possibly could towards me. She had been a runner in the past and managed to maintain the lead that Bella had set. From the stands I could hear the students yelling: "Go Alisi Go! Go Alisi Go! GO ALISI GO!". The baton was handed over to me. All the adrenaline whooshed down to my legs and them on propelling myself along as fast as humanly possible. As I rounded the bend, I could see that there wasn't anyone around me anymore. Faintly, I could here the students yelling "GO AMANDA GO! GO AMANDA GO! GO AMANDA GO!". I ran even faster as I came towards Luisa. I yelled out after her to run as fast as she could. As she ran off, a manly looking woman was catching up behind her. Luisa ran as hard and as fast as she possibly could, but the manly woman caught up with her and beat her at the finish line. Later, I discovered that the manly woman was not a woman, but was in fact, a manly man.
Anyway, we were very happy with the way the team had run and gave each other high fives and hugs for doing so well. I returned back to the spectators stand to give all the children high fives. They were all incredibly impressed at how fast I could run. Those who were most impressed were the teenage boys. I think my respect levels just went up a few notches in their eyes.
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