Roger's Solo Trip to New Zealand

Tuesday 25^th. March.

Having updated and published the last 2 days posts this morning, and tidied up my packing a bit, and tidied myself up a bit too for my visit to Om, I open the curtains at to find fog: it had rained fairly heavy at some time in the night, so I felt vindicated in coming up here to Hamilton early.

Early morning I drove round to see Om, who I last saw in 67 (If you haven’t read yesterday’s post you will need to do so for an explanation) about ¼ hour drive from my motel, which I had chosen as it is on the route out to Rotorua, and Tongariro.

I remembered him as a tall slim young man, but I see he is not much taller than me, which means he was positively thin in those days, but very strong and fit as a tennis player: These days he plays golf a couple of times a week, something he took up when he came to NZ from Fiji after the coup in 1987, and watches cricket.

He was also a very intelligent and strong minded character. He had started as an Inspector in the Fijian Department of Labour, and had risen to a level where he was mediating in labour/employer disputes when I knew him. With the Department he came to London and Oxford in 69 for further education.

We had always thought of him as a confirmed Batchelor, but of course, although he was a bit older than me, he was still a young man then, and he married Kuar in 1971, the same year that Rosey and I got married, and they have 2 sons, one in New Zealand, one in London.

Over the next two decades he rose to the position of third in the Department, travelling the World widely for the Government of Fiji, and represented Fiji on Labour and Union Matters in the United Nations. He was destined to be head of the Department but for the Military Coup in 1987. It was a bloodless coup, but he and the family were held at gunpoint for a short time, by soldiers just wanting to show that they had the power. There is an irony here, as Om’s Brother had been a soldier in the Fijian Army: He now lives in London.

Om decided to leave Fiji, and emigrated straight away to New Zealand, helped by having wide international contacts. He found work for 15 years in the HR Department of ECNZ the National Power Generator in Hamilton, where he now lives in retirement. Again ironically, he has done contract work for Fiji with paid travel there most years until retirement.

It was good to see him and we got on as though 47 years had never intervened, putting the world to right in many cases, both of us having surprising similarities in character and viewpoint.

He told me that Fiji is quite stable for those who stayed, but probably 25% of Asian population had left after the coup. But he found the inequality of wealth in Fijian Ethnic and Asian Society distressing; as also the rest of the world. He thought however that I should revisit Fiji, so maybe I will.

Om had some Yaqona (pronounced Yangona) and made us a bowl for old time’s sake, and whilst having it we hoped that one day he, Peter and I might get together and do the same. Yaqona is known as Kava in other parts of the Pacific, and is the national drink of Fiji. It is always on hand for evening get-togethers in Fijian society, and there is an elaborate ceremony involved in its making and drinking (Google it if you want to know more) It used to be in every office in Fiji in those days, and the slang for it is Grog. It is made by grinding the root to a fine powder in a pestle which is then infused in water from a fabric bag liberally squeezed during the ceremony.

It looks like muddy water, and tastes like muddy water, albeit peppery. Large quantities drunk don’t intoxicate, but do leave the mouth numb; more importantly it leaves the legs so numb they don’t move on command.

Kuar made us a lovely authentic Curry Lunch with Roti (Chapati), the like I haven’t had since leaving Fiji.

Leaving Om and Kuar after lunch I took their advice, and that of The Rough Guide, and went for a gentle relaxing afternoon stroll round Hamilton City Gardens. In both cases the advice is well given.

The gardens are extensive, and elaborately laid out, with a big visitor centre. The main attraction though, is an intense central section, which tells the history of world gardening through many ages, in a kind of giant maze layout, where each style is represented in a branch of its own. There are 13 different gardens in this section alone.

I particularly liked the Tropical, Maori, Italian, Indian, Herb and Japanese Gardens. The Japanese Garden of Contemplation brings back memories of discussion of Zen with Claire and Terry: the two of you will be delighted to hear no doubt.