From the Puzzle to the Pitch . . .

We are avid crossword puzzlers and have easily filled in the five-letter word for 'rugby field maneuver'' with only a dim idea what a 'scrum' was. We are about to find out.  It's Saturday morning and we're off to a real live rugby match - our first ever!!  Paul is delighted (dare I say smug with just a touch of gloating) that after many nights of bridge instruction with us in the know, he is now the rugby expert and we his eager students.

Here he is demonstrating the proper way to throw a rugby ball - a two-handed, sideways, underhand maneuver (executed while running flat out!)

Rugby is a lot like American football but since soccer all over the world is called 'football', rugby is, well, rugby.  I think some British wag described rugby as a bunch of toffs acting like ruffians and soccer as a bunch of ruffians acting life toffs.

At the local rugby pitch (field) four teams are about to face-off for cash prizes in something called '7's'.  Each team has seven players (plus three substitutes) and they play for 10 minutes a half, 20 minutes in total.  It's intense and exhausting (remember it's about 95 degrees and moisture is literally dripping off the banana leaves).  Their gear consists of shoes, socks, matching shorts and shirts.  No helmets, no pads, no face guards, nada; this is bare knuckle ball, folks.  Not for the faint of heart.

This team was warming up and it looked a lot like the hokey pokey to me ('put your left hand in, put your left hand out . . . ')

Paul tells us that the Fijian rugby players are first rate and rank with the best players worldwide.  That's confirmed when a man in the stands (whom we learn is from Brisbane, Australia) is boldly going on the field, taking photos of various players.  Day-Glo baseball cap, next to Debbie - he's a scout.

Paul is a good teacher and we catch on pretty quickly. Object:  get the ball (much like a bloated football) over the end line, score the equivalent of the conversion point(s) and try not to get your self obliterated by a half-ton of high speed flesh in the process.

Back to the scrum - after a minor infraction, four players from each team form a scrum - sort of like a jump ball in basketball only there are eight players competing for the ball rather than two and the ball's on the ground, not in the air.

These eight players huddle in a semi-oval formation, arms around each others' shoulders, heads down and one player puts the ball in the middle of this mass and all the players try and kick it into their portion of the pitch where it can be picked up and run with.  Once the ball leaves the scrum, it's fair game.

It's fast, it's intense, and very demanding - think soccer, coupled with the full-body plays of American football absent all protective gear.  The first game goes quickly, one team clearly dominant, and the next pair of teams takes the field.  That game is halted when a player is carried off the field with what looks like a very nasty ankle injury.  There is one first aid worker with the tiniest first aid kit ever that appears to contain a few bandages and a leather thong for the injured player to chomp down on when she tries to push his ankle back into place!

Not a food or drink vendor in sight - just a whole bunch of locals come to cheer on their teams.

Now, is there a cricket match we can attend??

PS - Scrum is short for scrummage.  Is that where we got the word 'scrimmage'?
PPS - Any errors in my narrative are mine and not attributable to our teacher!

A Very Special Fijian

Maybe, dear readers, you've figured out that our travels are made magical by the people we meet.  I am constantly thrilled and humbled by the kindness and generosity of people we've met all over the world.  Many of these people live on in my imagination, some I hope I've been able to help in some small way (writing a rave review of a restaurant run by the best cook in India struggling to recover from the death of his only son), and still others have come into our lives and remain with us, enriching us beyond measure.

One such person is Sailosi, a Savusavu native, a Fijian man of such intelligence, grace, and gentleness he continues to impress us, even 15+ years after we first met in 1999.  We came here and rented a house in the jungle, sight unseen, and Sailosi was the caretaker who lived a hundred yards or so from our back door.   He made that week memorable.  Every Christmas since we've exchanged cards, caught up on each others' lives, never dreaming that we'd be back.  When we learned that Debbie and Paul were coming to Savusavu, I immediately wrote to Sailosi and included a photo of the four of us so he'd know what Debbie and Paul looked like.

The day they arrived, Sailosi showed up at their door with two hand-made leis to welcome them to the island.  By then we'd decided to join them at bulavista and were eager to reconnect with our old friend.  His caretaking job at the house is long gone (we knew that from his Christmas updates) and he's now caretaking for his long-time employer, Denise (our landlady from 1999) in a building she owns on the main street of Savusavu.

We track him down through one of the shopkeepers and arrange to take him to lunch.  The years have not been kind to him.  Diabetes threatens his extremities, and we are stunned to learn that he is a week younger than Tim.  But the elegant, kindly gentleman is still very much there, and he is thrilled to see us again.

I so wanted him to leave his John Lennon sun glasses and beret on for this photo.  We knew that he was the son of a chief, but we learn now that it was his mother who was the chief!  She was also the one who taught him to play the piano, sent him to private school, and made sure he had tennis lessons.  Later, after retiring from the police force in Suva (on the big island of Viti Levu), he took care of an older gentleman here in Savusavu who introduced him to opera.  And a lifelong love affair began.  His one trip away from Fiji was to Sydney where all he wanted to do was go to the opera - and he did.  He saw Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro.

After lunch we accompany him to the hospital where he has his foot and leg dressings changed daily. We part, promising to get together again with Debbie and Paul who have fallen under his spell too.
We arrange for lunch at another of Sailosi's favorite places, the local Chinese restaurant and, again, see him home in a taxi.  Before parting, we press some money on him (he's far too gracious to refuse) as it's become quite obvious that times are hard for him.  He knows we are leaving in a couple of days and assures us he will come for a goodbye visit.

The day before our departure, he comes up to bulavista.  And, he is bearing gifts.  It appears that he has taken some, if not all, of the money we gave him and bought presents - for us!!  We each get a handmade bracelet, Fiji tee shirts, special shells (he always remembered how fascinated I was by all the shells of Fiji), and I get a necklace, with a beautiful shell.  I get all weepy just writing this . . .

I promise that as soon as we get home, I will make a photo album of our 1999 trip for him, and send along a couple of boxes of Sleepy Time tea (his favorite and not available here), something I'm sad to have forgotten in the rush of departing the US.

Sailosi, you are a dear and special man - thank you for being a part of our lives!