Farewelling Taitai

Last Thursday we buried a man responsible for all the good/fun childhood memories we (siblings and cousins) have in at least the first decade of our lives. He was fun! We called him Taitai (grandfather in Naitasiri) and he was my mother's uncle - married to our grandfather's sister also our grandfather's cousin. 

He took people in from all races and relatives from different generations have at least one point of their lives came to stay at their house, back in the day when not everyone had a place in Suva yet and people would come from all over to Suva in search for a "better life." I am sure people had other options of where to stay at but for some reason his house was always the people's choice and that spoke a lot about his character.  His generosity. 

As an adult now and looking back, I'm pretty sure he wasn't earning a million bucks but man that 2-bedroom caretaker's house in Wailada FELT like a million bucks! 

I also learnt much later in life that the whole land that my mother's village sits on, is actually, "his" land. If you know ITaukeis and their land, THAT is a big deal. It's almost like we owe our life to him.  Historically ITaukeis settle where it is easiest to do so - especially dependent on water access. Each mataqali (tribe) or tokatoka (household) have their own piece of land from where they plant and eat from and THIS land where the village is now, is theirs and they gave it for their people to settle on and call it home. It is so large that it caters as the village and still have more left for their livelihood and other needs. 

Our ancestors went to war for land and this is the story of the man we buried - they gave it freely for all to live on. So when we stood at their burial site on the hill and looked down on the village and the great Wainimala river, I saw the literal greatness of the man we buried - his heart of generosity, his great land, his heritage, and our story. 

Nakorosule village, Naitasiri - view from the burial site. 

Going up to my mother's village was such a literal breath of fresh air for me. I loved passing over the rivers, the other villages, the Vunidawa government station that caters for those in the Naitasiri interior and attend our Taitai's funeral service and just be reminded of what it means to be a Fijian. 

To be reminded of the distance my grandmother had to travel on foot from Nausori, to get to teach in Nakorosule District School back in the day. The road we travelled is very nice now but Nau travelled on foot, by horse, crossed rivers to get to this village back in the day. Reflecting on how much has changed and how much our grands did to survive and build something for themselves leaves me in awe. 

We got to sleep in the family house that our Nau was kept in while she first went to teach in Nakorosule village. It felt full circle to me. I loved getting to lie on that floor in the cool of the night and remember the sacrifices of those who have gone before us. Nau met our grandfather there who was from a different clan than where she stayed and that was where their love story began. 

To travel there last week to honor this man, Taitai, our grandfather's cousin/ brother in law and remember all of their sacrifices and life journey that has led to where we are today, truly felt like a taste of heaven. A gladness and gratefulness for the paths they chose though hard, to be who they became, so that we would become something for ourselves as well. 

Grateful for the journey that constantly reminds us that we are the product of long hard-fought decisions may decades ago and we only live to tell and retell the stories from much more comfortable circumstances while we live our own stories out.  

The journey continues. 

Some of us who came under Taitai's care.