We were not supposed to stop in Fiji. The original plan was to sail from Tonga to New Zealand so we could dodge the cyclone season. That is the recommended route by the community of sailors, cruisers, books, insurance companies and navigation articles. We were at anchor in Vavau harbor in Tonga well into October. Officially, the cyclone seasons starts on December 1st in the South Pacific. We were in the middle of the moving pack of yachts that go from Panama to New Zealand every year. We had rejoined the pack in July in Bora Bora from our off-the-beaten-track-trip to the Gambier. Danielle and I did not like the “lecturing pack of geriatrics”. Out of all the boats with whom we travelled; we had befriended only 2 other boats. The six of us were in our late 30s and were having a lot of fun together with happy diving, sailing, racing, partying, and boozing. The rest of the pack was all discussions about grand kids, dominos, scrabble and how much they missed home.
Danielle and I did not follow the normal path of the typical cruiser. The “book of the perfect cruiser” says that to be a cruiser, you have first to learn to sail on a small boat and be part of yacht club. Then prepare your trip around the world for forty years for your retirement by slowly increasing the size of your boat as you get better, buying maps, dreams, and spare parts along the way. The “book” always fails to mention that at 68 years old, you will probably be a grandfather, that you will probably be soft around the waist and, that your routine will dictate a nap in the afternoon and more fibers in your diet. The “book” always fails to mention also that your dream of seeing your wife jump naked from the bow of the boat in a pretty blue lagoon is probably just a dream. The reality being sometimes, you will be stuck in a dirty harbor between a tugboat and a trawler with drunk rowdy sailors waiting for a weather window to get out of there.
One thing that never fails and is a constant: the lecturing pack of geriatrics never stop lecturing the young sailors. We had the boat for only 3 summers before we took off in 2004. We really had minimal sea legs and we were inexperienced. We were very young members at the Quebec Yacht Club. The world syndicate of the lecturing pack of geriatrics had a very strong representation at the Quebec Yacht Club. I was getting lectured every day.
I got a lucky break in that last summer of 2004. I had a new slipway neighbor who had a CnC 35. He was an accomplished sailor. He was working as a delivery captain in the winter, and he was just cruising around in the summer. He had crewed on a prestigious around the world race in the 80’s on a maxi-yacht. He introduced me to the concept of the lecturing pack of geriatrics who mostly will never leave the harbor or if they do… will have only have one wish… to comeback as fast as they can. He also never lectured me. If I wanted to know something, I would ask only him. He would not say much but he would say enough. I ask him once if my boat was ready for a trip of the sort. He answered that compare to Christopher Colombus’ Pinta, I had a Rolls Royce rocket ship plush like the Waldorf Astoria. I also asked him how much money I would need. He gave me another of his weird answer. He told me that the trip would not be dictated by the money or the boat but by the fact that we should leave the dock at one point. I fixed a date. We would leave two months later on July 4th 2004, the same day that the race boats were leaving Quebec city for the Trans-Atlantic Race to Saint Malo in France. We would just be a tad slower and veer off to the south along the way.
As we arrive in Tonga, the geriatric pack is frantically preparing the crossing to New Zealand. Danielle and I are not in a rush. We are still on the buzz of the last two months in the lagoons of Maupelia and Maupiti. We just had this great crossing of 8 days where we were moving really well. There is still officially 6 weeks of cool weather on the calendar. Even though the Cyclone seasons starts only in December, they do not usually appear before February. We think we have a bit of leeway to start moving south to Kiwi land. Tonga is very different from Tahiti. It is poorer with heavy corruption. There was a lot of civil unrest when we were there. The lecturing pack and the cruising guide were speaking very highly of Tonga with a great sheltered anchorage in Vavau and beautiful services for the yachtsman. The reality was a bit different from the promise. The anchorage was very deep and we were forced to rent local moorings. The mooring fee does not bother me, but trusting your boat to a mooring in a developing country is a bit of a stretch for me. There were no real services for yachtsman. As for the restaurants… we were back on the British commonwealth burger-fish-n-chips trail. For Danielle and I, we could not wait to get out of there. Fiji was just a 4-day crossing due west.
I was not keen on going to Fiji. Going west to Fiji before going South to New Zealand would tighten the wind angle and make the crossing to New Zealand uncomfortable. Then, there was the matter of the sea charts. There is a 400 nautical miles stretch between Fiji and Tonga where the charts have not been updated. There are a lot of new reefs on that stretch because of the constant volcanic activity. Danielle did not understand my hesitation. She was super keen to go for Fiji. The geriatric lecturing pack where probably right about staying safe in Tonga, with a smooth sailing down to New Zealand while dodging the reef packed minefield towards the west.
As usual, we did not listen to the pack. And still miserable in Tonga, a few days later, we took off for Fiji. We landed at the port of entry of Savusavu in the North Island of the Fiji Group 4 days later. The minute we arrived, we had a strong feeling that we would stay for a while.
First impressions are always important. The marina of Savusavu was very competent at organizing the entry requirements by sending to us at anchor two officers from Customs and Immigration. They were sharply dressed in uniforms. They politely asked to come onboard while saluting us with a warm Bula! They left the boat 10 minutes later without asking for a bribe. A friendly contrast to the rougher Tongan entry.
Fiji is a big Island group. It is about 500 km across, a size that would engulf all the windward chain of Islands of the Caribbean, from Puerto Rico down to Grenada. There is three big Islands, Viti Levu with the capital Suva, Vanua Levu to the North and Taveuni to the East. There 2 other distinct Island groups; the Lau group to the east and the Mamanuca-Yasawa group to the West. The bulk of the native population is not Polynesian but Melanesian like the native population of Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands. The rest of the population, about 40%, is of Indian descent. In the old days of British colonialism, the ruler liked to move population around between its colonies and brought a lot of slave laborer from India to work on the sugar cane plantations of Fiji, Surinam, or Tobago, thus importing ethnic tensions and broken families. Fiji is a young democracy that gained its Independence in 1971. It is still on a learning path to governance as it was marred by 3 Coup d’états between 1987 and 2006. Fiji has now a more stable parliamentary system and enjoyed 3 smooth elections in 2014-18 and 22.
After we were officially passport-stamped at our arrival, we went for a walk in the small quaint town of Savusavu. The ethnic mix of Savusavu with its Indian women in Sari walking side by side with Melanesians was a contrast to the previous more homogenous Polynesian Islands. The smell of curry spices and garlic was overwhelming in the searing heat. We stopped for lunch at a small diner and order the only plate on the menu; chicken curry with dahl soup, rice and papadums. I took only one bite of the chicken curry to never touch it afterwards. The heat of the chili was so strong that I felt I would lose my capacity to taste any food for the rest of my life. Danielle is much better than me at this, she can endure a chilli pounding. I was raised in Canada on the very smooth and gentle flavors of French cuisine. The last three years in the tropics at opened my eyes to the stronger spiced meals and it had grown on me. But this was on another level. I would need a few more months to adapt because I would have to adapt. Nobody around me in the dinner seemed in pain from the curry and they all looked like they were enjoying their meal. I was the odd ball with weak untrained tastebuds.
There is a small main street in Savusavu that is no longer than 2 km. Spread out on that street are the shops and restaurants on the north, the marina in the middle and some government services on the south part of the street until the main ferry dock. After our meal and a bit of shopping, we decided to stretch our stiff legs from the four-day passage and have walk down to the dock and back. On the left as we walked down, there was this massive two-story wooden shed with a sign board on the street: “Pearl Farm. Tours available, Showroom on the 2nd floor.” We climb the stairs. Surprise.
As much as the big wooden shed looked run down, the inside of the showroom looked clean and well-appointed with pearl displays on 3 walls. We had visited a lot of pearl shops in Tahiti, Moorea, and Bora Bora. I was starting to be an expert in pearl shapes, sizes, and grades. I was not prepared for this. Fiji had pearl farms, or at least 1 pearl farm and the pearls were bigger with a much wider color spread. Some were metallic gold, other were light green, some were reddish with every colors in between. They were beautiful and beautifully expensive. The prices were in no comparison with Tahitian prices. This was a completely different thing. These pearls were outrageously expensive compared to Tahitian pearls. While we were there, a minivan dropped a few tourists that came at the showroom, and they seemed very happy to spend that kind of money on the pearls. Now, my mind is racing. Danielle can see it in my eyes.
-“Claude, I know what you are thinking but calm down. We have been in the country for only a few hours. Let’s get out of here, let’s do some groceries, let’s go to the pub. Then we go to the boat and have a nice meal. Let’s enjoy Fiji first before we start thinking about working here.”
I obey. No other way with her. She can be patient, but the signals are clear when I am approaching the limits of her goodwill and patience. I had looked at pearling in French Polynesia from all its angle. I had tried to find a way to make it work. The numbers did not add up no matter how you looked at it. An established farm could probably pull through, but a new venture would run out of cash very quickly. Then, most of the numerous farms in French Polynesia were on remote atolls with no access to tourist dollars. Their only revenues came from bulk auctions or wholesalers. Some bigger farms had their own retail outlets giving them a better chance, but the competition was fierce. With 350 farms, 18 tons of pearls produced yearly and 400 million in export dollars, the French Polynesian pearl industry was a very saturated market proposition with a hefty price tag at entry for foreign investors. I had simply forgot about pearling in my mind and had put myself back in travel cruising mode… until this.
I did put the pearl farm thing on the back burner for a few weeks so we could enjoy Fiji. At the time, we needed a cruising licence to move around. We got a cruising licence for the Cakaudrove Province that gave us access to two big Islands (Vanua Levu and Taveuni) and few smaller ones. That covered months of discovery and since we needed to move south to New Zealand in a few weeks, that Province would have to do. After a few days of rest from the crossing and a bit of inland discovery, we provisioned the boat for a 3-week cruise toward the East. The first day, we moved to Viani Bay on the East coast of Vanua Levu. Across the Somosomo Strait in front of us and towering with a peak of 1300 meters was the majestic Island of Taveuni. Taveuni is called the Garden Island of Fiji and is famous for its diving. Once at anchor, we jumped overboard to snorkel a bit on the nearby reef. The reality matched the promise. Even though we are still in the same Pacific Ocean, I was still taken aback by how much the underwater environment can be so different from region to region. Between the Island of Taveuni and Vanua Levu there is the Somosomo Strait with strong tidal currents that, over time, created a complex reef system called the Rainbow Reef. The Rainbow Reef bears its name very well. It is all about colors, invertebrates, hard and soft corals. As much as the Polynesians reefs were all about sharks and big fishes, and as much as the Tongan reefs were all about whales, sea fans and crinoids, here was all about colors.
Back in Syjoli after our snorkeling, it was time for the afternoon cold beer in the cockpit. The anchorage was empty. We could see 1 small village at the end of the bay and two other separate houses. The anchorage was wide with perfect protection from all sides and of great holding. We were as remote as we could be. In St Marteen in the Caribbean, an anchorage of that quality would have been the home of a few hundred boats, 12 restaurants, 2 ship chandlers and a slew of street vendors. I was wondering if there was even a road that connected the small village here to the rest of the world. Looking East towards Taveuni, the setting sun behind us was painting the mountainous Island with a brush of pink and orange hues. We would move to Taveuni in a few days after exhausting the offers of the peaceful life of Viani Bay. As we were sipping our beers, Danielle, smiling, was pointing to me that we almost missed out on this. A week earlier, the lecturing pack in Tonga was trying to discourage us out of Fiji. The hell with them.
We dropped our anchor in Vacala Bay at the northern tip of Taveuni in the first week of November. There was a few more boats in that smaller anchorage. A beautiful white sand beach was the main feature of the bay with a rocky bluff on the North side of the bay with a restaurant near the drop off. Generally, in all the Islands we did, we used to pick a cab on the arriving day to show us around so we could quickly understand where the watering holes, refueling points and attractions were. We did this, but this time, we had to stretch it over two days. Taveuni is a bigger Island at 44 km long by 7 across. There is only one coastal road that does not go all the way around. The road starts in Lavena on the windward side to finish on the southern tip on the leeward side near the village of Vuna. On the first day, we went South toward Vuna. There are very few tourists and expats here and our white skins are conspicuous. Everybody that we crossed welcomes us with a beautiful smiling Bula. There are no electrical grids. Small villages are peppered along the coast with small plantations on the mountain side of the street. Houses are mostly tin shacks with impeccably maintained flowery gardens of hibiscus, frangipani, and bougainvillea. There are kids everywhere in clean school uniforms. It is 3pm and probably the end of the school day. The road going south is graveled and in some sections a bit scary when the road is cut on the side of the montain with a steep drop on the seaside. We saw only 2 very small hotels on our way South with 2 bigger settlements in the middle of the island where most services, shops and hardware stores were located.
The next day, we left Vacala bay to go on the other side of the Island towards Lavena. As we left Vacala bay, we went through Matei settlement and airport where most of the tourism services are regrouped with a few dive shops, small hotels and Inns. But then again, with 3 to 10 rooms for the few establishments, Taveuni was not crumbling under the pressure of mass tourism. As we left Matei and moved to the windward side of Taveuni, we discovered a more rural setting. There were no more shops or convenience stores. Little villages were still dispersed at the same rate along the coast with the same attention to gardening and shaved lawns. All the main features and landmarks of the Islands are on that side with the Bouma Heritage Park with its majestic falls, the Lavena coastal 3-hour walk, the Vidawa Rain Forest walk and the Waitabu Marine Park. Taveuni is green, lush … and wet. We crossed many freshwater rivers on our way to Lavena that were fed by constant rainfalls on the mountain top.
We stayed one more week in Taveuni to discover a quaint Island with a welcoming local population living the slow quiet life of farming and fishing. We moved back to Savusavu afterwards to do some paperwork to move the boat toward our last port of exit in Lautoka on the western side of Viti Levu, the main Island of Fiji. Lautoka would be our jumping point toward New Zealand in a few weeks’ time. Lautoka was 200 nautical miles away from Savusavu, so there was still a bit of cruising to be done. The manager at the Savusavu Marina told us not to park our boat in Lautoka for the rest of our stay in Viti Levu but to move it to Vuda Point where the cruiser’s friendly marina was more suitable (… and owned by the same guy than the Savusavu marina … Nothing wrong with a bit of self-promotion).
We arrived a week later to Vuda Point Marina after a very enjoyable cruise along the way. Viti Levu is a very big Island with roughly a population of 500 000. The bulk of the tourism comes here on the Coral coast south of the international airport of Nadi. After the very rural last 5 months past in the South Pacific, Viti Levu felt like a busy place with its bus stops, traffic lights, Cruise ship docks, industrial zones, sugar mills and packed neighborhoods. We prepaid a berth for our boat for a week. That would be the time we would need to prepare for our next crossing toward Kiwiland. New Zealand is a sub-tropical colder proposition with big tides and rough weather. It is often compared to Nova Scotia or Scotland with its rocky shores and sideways rain. Neither Danielle nor I were looking forward to go there. We were really enjoying our stay in Fiji. And then there was that pearl farming thing. Going to New Zealand was an obligation dictated by weather. It was also an obligation dictated by the need to refit the boat. After a three-year cruise of heavy sailing, the boat was in dire need of a paint job, sails repairs, engine overhaul and reupholstering. It also needed a new sonar and a lot of varnish and elbow grease. The “Book” and the lecturing geriatric pack were all in accordance to say that the cheapest and safest way to do this was to go eat kiwis and lamb for 6 months in the lower latitudes.
The Savusavu marina manager had not lied to us. The Vuda Point marina was a cool place with well-organized services. We went to the marina pub that afternoon with its typical cruising crowd playing dominos and discussing weather. We sat down at the bar and ordered a Fiji Gold, the local beer. When in Rome.. do like the Romans. Next to me, there was this guy talking to the pretty barmaid in the thickest of South African accent I ever heard. I could not understand half of what he was saying. He looked at me and told I should drink Fiji Bitter instead, a real man’s beer.
- “I am Brian”, he said. “And this is my girlfriend Michelle”, proudly pointing at the bartender.
She nodded back to us.
- “Which one is your boat?” he asked.
I pointed to Syjoli.
- “I like her”. And he went on. “She is not too big, not too small, very classy and uncluttered. I like that in a boat. She probably has a full keel and probably prefers a strong breeze on a broad reach. A sailor’s boat. Nice.”
I was fascinated by his accent. I had heard South Africans before but this one had made zero effort in smoothing it out for a more international crowd. I could deal with Cockneys, Welch, Irish, Scotts, Texans, Kiwis and Aussies but him, I would have to keep my ears wide open when he talked.
- “Which one is yours?”, I asked in return.
- “Sold, done, no more. I had a nice 55-footer and sailed a lot. I stumbled on Fiji, met Michelle and that’s it. I am a land lubber. How long are you staying for?”
- “We just arrived from Savusavu and Taveuni. We are staying for a week before we move down to New Zealand. The boat needs some TLC.” We have not done much maintenance in the last 3 years. I am not looking forward to cold water and wearing socks again. We will be Ok, the boat is insulated, has heating and hot water. And then, the storm season is approaching so we must get out. Sad, we love it here.”
- “Yes, we are all moving to New Zealand next week because the storms will be here, all of us, the 800 000 fijians are moving to New Zealand. Life stops on December 1st. We will probably cancel Christmas also.”
- I looked at him. The guy was pulling my leg and testing me. Danielle was now paying attention. “Did I say something stupid?” I asked him.
- “No. But it always cracks me up at this time of the year when you see the flock of cruisers on a schedule that stay only a few weeks here before going down to get screwed by the kiwis on boat repairs. First, they have to make a nasty crossing down South and time it to slip between two cold fronts. Then they land in Wangharei where all the boat yards are, and they will have to stand in line and find a slot to get refitted between the Christmas holiday overtime bills and expensive packed marinas. After that, they will have to wait a few more months that the storm season ends to remake the same nasty crossing to the tropics to resume their trips. All this time, they could have stayed here and continue their cruising.”
Now Danielle was really paying attention.
- “We went through a cyclone in Grenada, I am not a fan. We still need to refit the boat anyway.”, I told him.
- “You can have the boat refitted here. Cheaper.”, he replied.
- “What about the cyclones?”
- “Watch the forecasts, they are pretty accurate and stay within a day sail of a protected harbor, there are plenty around. I can show you where on the map.” Brian added. He did not seem nervous or worried at all about cyclones.
The geriatric pack had gotten to me again and had planted that kiwi idea in my mind. Brian had a point. People don t stop living because of a storm season as much as Canadians do not stop living because there is some snow on the ground. Come to think of it, Danielle and I had stayed in the Caribbean storm belt during a whole hurricane season a few years prior while the geriatric pack had sought refuge in Trinidad. We had enjoyed St Vincent, Cariacou and Grenada with its diving, regattas, music fests and rhum punch. We always kept an eye on the weather. It was a record year for hurricanes. It was the year of Katrina. It was also the year where there were so many storms that the authorities had run out of letters in the alphabet to name the storms and had reverted to continue in the Greek alphabet. More than 30 storms were named that year. We had been shaken around by strong winds, but we went through the season unscathed. Why not do the same here?
- “And what about the refit?” I asked Brian.
- “I have a boat engineering company; we can do all your work. Even spray paint the hull.”
Brian was obviously doing some retail marketing, one client at the time, while sipping a beer, in this cruiser’s joint. Know your market, know your product, and connect the two with a smart message. Brian was a natural at it.
- “I will think about it.” I replied.
We went to our table to have our meal. Danielle was not saying a word but clearly wanted to stay in Fiji. That 5-minute discussion with the South African had rattled my cage. I told Danielle that we would discuss this in the morning at breakfast after a good night sleep.
We took the decision to stay in Fiji the same evening.
The next morning, I went to see Brian at his shop. It is always difficult to not be judgmental in a developing country when you are born in the western world. Standards are different on many aspects of life. Sometimes it comes from poor training, lack of resources or desperation for income. The transition toward this new world was done slowly through our travels of the last 3 years. We could now start to see beyond the poorer façade without losing our tempers. As I was walking the kilometer towards Brian’s shop from the marina, I was dressing the list of minimal requirements that Brian’s outfit would need to have to refit Syjoli. I wanted to see the right management/supervision and the right original engine parts. No grey market second class parts would be fitted on my boat.
As I got closer to his shop, both my apprehensions disappeared. I could see on the front door of his outfit a sign that he was an authorized dealer for the Japanese diesel brand of my boat. Japanese companies tend to be pedantic about their suppliers and agents. That was a good sign. And then, I heard him through the door. He was yelling hard at one of his mechanics about a tolerance of one-thou on a machined part. I am not an engineer, but it was clear that he was yelling about a machined part that was exceeding his benchmark tolerance of 1/1000 of an inch. That did put to rest my second worry about supervision and management. I entered the shop to see an immaculate epoxy painted floor with a team of about 10 sharp dressed mechanics and laborers humming at their stations. I looked at Brian and asked him if he wanted to inspect my boat and see what he could do to put her back into shape. He did produce a quote, Syjoli was pulled out of the water and jacked up on metal stands on land for a 2-week refit the same day.
We re-splashed the boat 2 weeks later. The boat looked awesome and all the worked had been done on time and on budget. The good news about the mandatory refit was that it was over. We were done with it. And it was not even December yet. We had just saved a painful crossing and 6 months in the cold and we had saved a lot of money in staying in Fiji. While the boat was on land, Brian would always come by every morning to task the boys and inspect the work. We chatted a lot. We befriended him very quickly. We would always meet up at the pub in the evening. On the weekends, he would invite us over his house for an incredible homemade prawn curry that he cooked himself in a cast iron cauldron that we drop in an open fire outside. Memorable. We were still in commonwealth fish-n-ship-burger territory, but here, with all the Indians, Chinese and expats around, the flavors were spicier and tastier.
Brian was a tough sort. I guess that being born in Durban during Apartheid, being raised learning Afrikaans and Zulu, going through the unrest and social changes marred by blood and tears creates a tough breed. We could feel it. He talked very highly of Fiji. He liked the wild west aspect of it. He loved that Fiji had not caught up with the heavily-controlled-regulated western world. He told me that everything had to be done in Fiji. There was a strong potential in any economic sector. There was no competition. Tourism was in its infancy. I asked him why Fiji was so undeveloped. I mentioned our stay in Viany bay which was probably the best anchorage we had been to. That same anchorage in the Caribbean would have probably sheltered 200 boats at any given time.
-“How many dive boats did you see on the Rainbow Reef?”, he asked.
- “one or two”, I replied.
In Bonaire, Danielle and I had to be careful in choosing a dive site so crowded it was. I had seen dive operators in Turk and Caicos move more than 100 divers a day. I refused to dive in Cancun so crowded were the sites. The pressure on the reefs was unsustainable. Obviously, that was not the case in Taveuni.
- Brian added: “That was Taveuni tranquility. Now try to imagine the Lau Group to the East with all its unexplored Islands, lack of runways, boat jetties or infrastructure. Just try to imagine diving there where no one has dived before. Fiji is the last frontier. “
I could see the potential in it also. Developing countries have issues that are, most of the time difficult to overcome. Either they are geographically too small or remote, had poor resources, had population that were too small, oppressed or under the thumb of a colonialist forces, dictators, or religious factions. If Fiji was such a potential, If Fiji was such an opportunity, why was it so undeveloped. It had everything; mountain, lakes, reefs, volcanic islands, low atolls, forests, fisheries, agriculture land, fertile soil and a good workforce. What was wrong about it? Brian had been here a few years. He had gone through the rigmarole of starting a new business as an immigrant on new soil. He had gone through the pains and was still going through the pains and rejections of being an immigrant. He would have a good perspective on life in Fiji.
I asked him: “Why Fiji is still so undeveloped?”
-“Well, this place is not for the faint hearted. Everybody is in survival mode because most Fijians are very poor. They have been used and abused. They have been lied to by the missionaries, the colonialist Brits and by the Indians. The Brits gave Fiji its Independence in 1971 with no transition period and no training in governance. It is no different than what they did in Dominica, St Lucia, Uganda or Nigeria. They abused the place, then created some ethnic tensions by moving some population around and bringing some Indians (indo-fijians). When the Brits could not extract any more dollars out of the country, they just left and dumped them. The Fijians had to figure out democracy by themselves. It did not work. The landowners are the natives, the rich and educated ones are the Indians. The military is controlled by the natives and the money is in the hands of the indo-fijians. We had military coups in 1987 and 2000. I do not like what I am seeing in the papers right now. We have this corrupted elected government and a military commander who are throwing rocks at each other right now. The Indian cabal is betting its money on the military commander. I would not be surprised if we had another coup d’état in the next few months. You should stick around. There will be a lot of business opportunities. Depending on how many guns will be involved in the next Coup, some will flee, land will be cheap for a while.”
- “So, tell me Brian. I saw a pearl farm in Savusavu with really nice pearls. What do you know about this?”
- “That is Justin’s farm. He is a young American. His mom is from Fiji, I think. He sells his pearls through the high-end resorts. I think he is doing well. His pearls are nice. Some of them are gold colored. But I would be very careful before putting money in the water. The natives own the fishing rights. It is one of the big source of contention between the two fighting factions right now. The actual government want to introduce a law that would give 100% of the water rights to the natives, on top of the fishing rights. That would scare the tourist operators away and the military commander wants to stop that nonsense. I would wait that the Coup goes through to see how complex it will be to put one dollar in the water.”
Brian added, “Remember, this place is not for the faint hearted. If things were easy here, this place would be just another Fort Lauderdale or Cancun with hundreds of hotels and restaurants. Fiji has a way of killing foreign investor’s spirits. Most people that come with big dreams tend to leave after a few years with their tails between their legs. You will need to stay firm. You will need to keep an eye on everything and stay on top of everything. You will need to keep your eye on the prize at all time. You are now well warned. Go in peace my boy.”
While the boat was safely parked in a marina and now that we had all this time on our hands, we decided to explore the idea of investing in Fiji. We jumped on a bus the following day to go to Suva, the capital, for a couple of days. Once there, our first stop was the Investment bureau. Unsurprisingly, the ex-British colony was still very bureaucratically British. The list of requirements was extensive but not insurmountable. Sitting at the top of the list of requirements was the immigration department with its work visa (lawyer + public servant). You also needed to create a company that would need to be approved by the reserve Bank (lawyer + accountant). Then you would need a commercial bank account (banker). You we need to repatriate the minimum investment requirement (more banker). You would need to get a letter of support from the Permanent Secretary of Fisheries (Public servant). You would need to get a wet lease from the land department (more public servant and lawyer). You would need to register the company, owners, and employees with Inland Revenue (taxman… a special kind of public servant with real power). You would also need to register the company with the National pension scheme (more money people of a different sort, kind of public servant at the same time… a weird combination). And lastly, a letter of support from a Roko Tui and a Tui from where the farm would be (that was not in the phone book but everybody seemed to know who they were).
In typical bureaucratic fashion, the work permit gang wanted all the other approval papers before giving the work visa. The reserve Bank wanted all the other approvals before issuing the shares of the company. We had the same story with the bank and the taxman. We had survived the painful rigmarole of moving a boat through the Panama Canal bureaucratic nightmare. We would survive this.
We decided not to address any of the tougher legal requirements right now. That would be too long, costly, and frustrating. After all, we had not decided yet if we would do this project. We were just shopping. We went to see the Permanent Secretary of Fisheries. Danielle decided to stay behind at the café. After a few meetings, we were picking the signals that the officials were more talkative when there was no woman around. Fiji is a very conservative and religious society. Danielle was fine with it. She was never the active-manifestation-advocacy-feminista type. She is practical. No point in fighting an established system if you want results quickly.
I was on time for the meeting and the Permanent Secretary was very nice and helpful. With the prospect of a new foreign investor, he had brought in a research assistant to the meeting who was holding a sea chart. He oversaw aquaculture development in Fiji and was also the acting director of Fisheries. His name was Ratu Raivesi Teomai. He was very knowledgeable about pearls and had been to French Polynesia. There were 11 farms in Fiji. A minute number compared to the 300+ Farms of Tahiti. We had visited the biggest one in Savusavu according to Raivesi. I did not want to tell him that it was a very small farm compared to the typical Tahitian farm. Let’s keep everybody happy and proud for now. There were three other foreign investors involved in farming. One was in Kioa Island, one was in Sau Bay, and the other one was in Taveuni while the rest of the farms were locally operated. I remember seeing the pearl shack in the water of the North point of Taveuni. That was probably the one he was talking about. I asked him about the total output and he was very proud to say that it was about 30 000 pearls/year for the country. Realistically, that is insignificant compared to any other pearl producing country. And with 600 000 high paying tourists visiting the shores of Fiji every year, there was serious money to be made. The Tahitian managed to sell for 200 million $US worth every year to their 400 000 tourists. Now that was a serious opportunity for Fiji. I thanked him and thanked the permanent secretary while asking for that support letter. They stayed polite while refusing to do one until I would get the support letter from the Roko Tui and the local Tui.
It turns out that I wanted to look at Taveuni again. I had seen a bay that was a bit small but that would be the perfect starting point for a farm. That meant that I would need a letter of support from the local Taveuni chief Tuiei Semisi Ravai and from the Provincial administrator of native affairs, Roko Tui Cakaudrove Aca Moceica (Fijians like their titles). I manage to get from Brian a name in Taveuni that would guide us through the local protocols. His name was Richard. Danielle and I jumped in a ferry that night that would bring us to Taveuni in 20 hours. There were many reasons why Taveuni was a good spot for pearl farming. It was a very beautiful Island (might as well work in a nice place). All the services like post, fuel, hardware, groceries were available. There was a jetty with regular weekly ferries. There was an airport with daily flights to the main Island. Pearl oysters need clean water and Taveuni was remote with low pollution and no industries. Lastly, pearls tend to get stolen underwater. It is easier to patrol a remote location where you know everybody than patrol a bay near a city.
Richard met us at the Taveuni jetty the next day. He was tall and calm and like all Fijians we had met so far, was very helpful. I invited him for a pizza at the restaurant where I explained to him my project and the support letter requirement. He told us that it would be difficult to get. Locals are very attached to their reefs, but he had some family ties to high chief who was a retired senator. He would meet him alone first. Richard came back the same evening and we went again for another pizza. He was smiling. He said that there were good chances for a positive outcome if we demonstrated respect and a willing to work with the locals. We know what it meant for business. Money would have to be paid somehow to someone at some point.
I asked him about how we would get the support letter. Richard told us that we would need to go through a small ceremony the next day at 2pm and if the high chief was happy with the talks, we would probably get our papers.
- “Richard, what kind of a small ceremony?” I asked.
- “It involves a bit of food and talking.” he replied
- “Do we need to bring something?”
- “You need to bring everything needed” he said.
- “Richard, what do we need?”
- “30 chickens, 1 sperm whale tooth, 80 liters of kerosene, 1 kg of Kava, a speaker, 10 bottles of coke and five packs of cigarette. Oh, and you will need to dress better, both of you.”
I taught I was well dressed. I had nice loafer shoes with a clean Bermuda short and white linen shirt. It was Island wear and chic at the same time. He wanted us to put a sarong over our shorts to cover our legs. As I looked around me in the restaurant, most people were wearing a sarong and we were the only one in shorts. We went to the shop to get 30 chickens, coca-cola, cigarettes, and kerosene. I gave money to Richard so he could find a whale tooth (300$), kava (70$), and a speaker (20$). That small ceremony did not feel like a small ceremony anymore.
- “Richard, what is the speaker?”
- “He is the guy who will speak on your behalf to the high chief. You will be sitting in front of the chief. Danielle will be in the back with the village women. When your speaker talks, lower your head and look at the ground. He will talk for a while as he presents the kava to the chief. Then people will clap their hands. Then he will speak for a longer time while presenting the whale tooth. If the chief accepts the whale tooth, you are good and you get your letter. Then we eat chicken.”
- “Richard, when do I talk about the project?”
-“No need, I already told him what it was.”
We showed up the next day at 2pm at the village hall. Every villager where inside already sitting on the reed mats on the floor. Richard led us in and pointed the ground to Danielle at the back of the room and pointed me the ground in front of the group next to the speaker. A minute later, the chief, Ratu Semisi, entered and sat down on the floor in front of me. Small and fit with sharp eyes, he pointed to Richard and said “Masu”. Richard started praying in Fijian and after a while, the whole room said “Ameni”. The speaker slowly raised himself on his knees and was now the tallest in the room. With a low imploring voice and while holding the kava roots, he addressed the chief in Fijian for about 10 minutes. His speech built up to a crescendo and he stopped abruptly and in unison the whole room said something followed by 3 hand claps, followed by another two words said in unison followed by two hand claps again. Obviously, that ceremony called Sevusevu was a frequent occurrence, and everyone knew their role.
The speaker started to talk again, but this time, there was more purpose in his stance and more gusto in his voice. Ten minutes later, the speaker stopped, the villagers said something in unison and then there was a long pause with complete silence in the room. Ratu Talemo was looking at the whale tooth in front of him. He slowly took the tooth in his two hands and said something very softly. The villagers said something together and clap their hands. The ceremony was over. The High Chief had accepted the tooth.
During the lunch, the chief came to see me. As he approached, everybody moved away. Danielle got the cue and followed Richard further away. Ratu Semisi started talking.
-“Mr. Claude, can we talk about your project”
That sounded like money talk.
-“Of course, I would be happy too. Do you have something in mind?”
-“Well, it would be nice if the locals could benefit somehow from your farm. You must understand, they will lose some fishing grounds to your farm. They need to be compensated somehow.”
He had something in mind. He was an ex-politician; he knew the dance. He looked sharp and had probably done a few phone calls the day before.
I asked him the same again: “Mr. Semisi, do you have something in mind?”
His response was from a guy who had done his homework.
-“Mr. Claude, I have spoken to some friends at Fisheries and in Savusavu. I was told that the agreement between the pearl farm there and the locals was very fair. We would be grateful for the same.”
-“Mr. Semisi, I cannot know those conditions, they are probably confidential.”
-“Mr. Claude, nothing is really confidential in Fiji.”
He told me of the conditions that were strait forward. It was a percentage of the pearl sales and a yearly fee for the exclusive usage of the bay. I made a quick calculation in my head and taught that the conditions were similar and in line with what was done in Tahiti. I excused myself and went to consult with Danielle. I came back to him a few minutes later and shook his hand. He smiled, wished me good luck, and left the room. In the evening, Richard came and see us at the hotel to hand deliver 2 letters of support: one from Semisi Ravai and one from the provincial administrator.
We were in.
We flew back the next day to Nadi. The airport was 15 minutes away from the marina where Syjoli was waiting for us. We had decided the night before that our sailing careers would stop here and that we would try to make a living again. We met Brian that night at the pub. We told him what happened. He smiled and told us that we might had what it took to pull it off. The next day, on December 6th, 2006, Commander Frank Voreqe Banaimarama, with the help of the army, took power in a third Coup d’états in 19 years for Fiji.
A foot note about this chronicle
For better readability, while all the events did happen, the business trip to Taveuni was actually done in two trips, not one.
To protect the privacy of our friendly neighbors on the Island… and some public servants on other islands, all the names have been changed, except one, Brian Smith the South African.
On March 30th, 2025, my dear friend Brian passed away, peacefully surrounded by his loved ones. He died from multiple traumas caused by a car crash from a week prior. For the 18 years that I have been in Fiji, Brian and I spoke almost every week about the ups and downs of being two entrepreneur-immigrants in a developing nation. Brian was driven and did everything with purpose, passion, honesty and integrity, a dangerous combination that can rub the wrong way weaker spirits. I miss him dearly.
