August 9

Today we went to a Fijian wake.  Here they call it a "reguregu"  I have always thought that funeral traditions were so interesting.  Yesterday confirmed it.  This is a warning that this is really long, so if you don't have time, just look at the pictures.  I, however, want to remember everything.

So let me begin.

One of our Institute Council members, Maggie, lost her mother Monday.  Because Maggie had also worked in the Distribution Center, the staff in the Service Center felt they should attend the reguregu.   Scott and I asked if we could accompany them.  Money was gathered to help the family with expenses.  This afternoon when we climbed into the van, one of the sisters had made cinnamon rolls, and muffins to add to the gift.  The drive out to the village which was at the end of the road--literally--was about 25 minutes.  We parked the van, and began our walk through the village towards the home where the family lives.

Our van is parked just behind the photographer.

Through the village to the family home
with our service center friends.

It has rained here for the last three days more on than off.  We were very grateful for the cement walkway as everything was very wet, however after walking about 3 blocks the cement walkway ended.

Past the cement walkway
Walking along the river (on right).
It is muddier than it looks.

A home along the way.

Carefully picking our way along as we try to miss
the wettest, slickest, worst mud.

It got muddier and slipperier as we walked the remaining 1/4 mile to the family home.  All the way I am thinking I have on my only pair of black sandals, the ones that go to church most Sundays while my  cute MaryJane crocs are sitting safely in my closet at the flat avoiding the very purpose for which they were purchased, but I was determined to express my love and sorrow to Maggie's family.  By the time we reached where the condolence gathering (Fijian expression) was being held, we were slipping and sliding on what had become known as Fijian snow, because Scott told the sisters that after this experience they should come to Utah and we would put snow skis on them and they would be experts.

The village had erected a "shed" for the reguregu which was really a tin roof held up by poles that were obviously just made from newly cut down trees.  Woven mats made by family members and village members some of which had been taken right out of homes had been put down on the dirt under the shed roof.

The shed.

We took off our shoes before entering the shed.
I am standing in the back with  Milika

Notice in these pictures that there are only men sitting in the shed.  When we sat down, Peni Balemaivavalagi, who is a Service Center employee and a stake patriarch sat up near the men while the rest of us sat at the back of the shed.  After sitting for about 5 minutes, I noticed that our gifts were on the mat next to Peni. One of the village men (probably the village chief) began to speak.  After he had finished Peni spoke.  Then all of the men chanted something as they clapped to the rhythm of what they were saying.  Peni spoke again, then the chief spoke, followed by the men chanting and clapping.  This was repeated several times. It seems that the gifts had to be presented to the village and by a man which was what Peni was doing.

Peni presenting our gifts.
Notice the woven mats.

After the presentation, we sat for a moment and then other sisters got up.  "Do want to come, Sister Tennis?  Maggie will be there."  So I went.  We put on our shoes and slipped and slid around the shed, across what was once a lawn but was now mud with narrow boards across it.  Thank goodness for good balance.  We were walking towards Maggie's home, but when we got to what I thought was just a big wooden shed with two door-like openings, the other sisters took off their shoes and climbed the six steps up to an opening, so I did also.  We entered what I learned later was an auntie's house that had been emptied for the vigil.  Inside sat five women on absolutely beautiful woven mats.  The walls had been draped with long fabric swatches in various colors.  The far wall was draped with white fabric overlaid with purple fabric that had been swaged from the corners into the middle and then tied into a huge bow.  On the wall was a picture of Maggie's mom.  A small table covered with a white cloth sat below the picture with picture of Maggie's mom on it; it was the same one as on the wall above.  We filed into the room and sat down.  We sat and sat and sat and finally one of the woman started speaking.  After a while Maggie came in and sat by the woman speaking.  It seems that only woman can be in the vigil house.  Before the death is announced on the radio and TV the family prepares a place for the vigil and the village prepares a place for the reguregu, because once the announcement is made everyone who know the deceased, the family, etc., descend on the village and stay until the funeral.  In this case it was announced on Tuesday and the funeral is Friday.  For all of these days, the woman who sit vigil stay in the house.  They don't come out except for necessities like bathroom breaks.  The women in the vigil house were relatives of Maggie's mom and the woman who spoke was Maggie's mom's mom.  Even though I didn't know what she was saying I could hear the grief in her voice.  Sad to bury a child.

As we were leaving, I knelt down in front of the Grandma and expressed my condolences, hugged/kissed Maggie, and was glad I had come.

We put our shoes back on and board walked our way back to the shed.  Along the way we passed the kitchen the village women were using for the funeral and they insisted that we eat something.

The kitchen where the women prepare food for the reguregu.
Notice the beef carcass behind the woman.

In fact, when we reached the shed, a long strip of bula fabric had been laid out and dishes and food were waiting for us.

This is what was waiting for us after we sat vigil.
Waiting for water to wash our hands.
White stuff is cassava (potato like)

Sulu holding bowl for washing hands.
Spoon is in a cabbage and huge hunks of beef.
Notice no spoons!  I was sad when the Fijian sisters ask for spoons!

Diana and Sister Kelemati with more cabbage and beef.

Sia is spooning up beef stew with carrots and potatoes.  Yummy!
This made me happy for a spoon.

Although the village helps prepare it, the family pays for all the food that the mourners eat for the four days.  Many times it costs the family their entire live stock heard.  Funerals bankrupt Fijian often.

Some of these people will eat every meal here for the
next four days.

Scott and the men also got to eat, but since Scott took the pictures he isn't in any of them.  After we ate we made the long trek back to the van though all the mud.

These children are coming home from school.
The bus lets them off on the road to another village and they
use the  boat to cross the river that separates the village from the road.

Notice that they pole the boat across the river.
We considered using the boat and making the men walk to the van.
Reconsidered when we couldn't figure out where to sit.

On the way back.
Notice Diana has finally taken her shoes off.

This is a pig pen with the cutest little pigs.

This is a where the woman of this house cooks.

Another village home

In all of the sadness we felt for Maggie and her family, this made us smile.

These two little girls followed us from the village sign
all the way to the reguregu.

Typical boys! with very cut faces!

The funeral at the church will be on Friday, and then they will bury her in the village and the wake will end Friday night.

We pray that the peace only Heavenly Father can give comes to this family.