Published in MAI LIFE MAGAZINE – October, 2010
"Mai Word with J.S. Bhagwan"
As the
chaplain of the Fiji Islands Voyaging Society, I have constantly dreamed of
sailing on the Uto Ni Yalo on one of
its epic voyages. I went to primary school with skipper Jonathan Smith, have
....
However the
closest I have come to this epic adventure is to pray for the crew before they
depart on an epic journey. There has been an occasion when I have braved the
early morning onboard the Uto Ni Yalo
without the captain’s special blend of coffee, or braved the high tide of the bilo levu.
I was asked
to take devotion for the opening of an outrigger canoe regatta in which the
crew of the Uto Ni Yalo were the
chief guests. So I was invited to sail with them from the Lami Bay of Islands
to the Suva Point the venue of the regatta. I parked my car at the venue and
waited for “O Captain, my Captain Smith,” to pick me up and drive me to Lami to
board the Uto Ni Yalo. Doing my best
to be punctual, I arrived to find myself alone except for some bleary-eyed
paddlers struggling to erect a few marquees. My phone rang. It was the skipper.
“Are you
there?” he asked. “Yes I am,” I replied, my eyes scanning the land, the sea and
the skies, in case he was hiding in the bushes, sailing in from the horizon or
skydiving in. No one in sight, I ventured the question, “Where are your?” “I’m
just passing Korovou,” was the response.
My mind
raced. What was he doing in Tailevu, 50 kilometres north east of Suva, when he
should be 15 minutes away in Lami? Fortunately he was only passing Korovou
Prison (Suva Gaol / Suva Yacht Club) which was 5minutes away.
The rest of
the plan went to schedule. We drove from Suva Point to Lami. We boarded the Uto Ni Yalo and sailed back to Suva
Point with the crew and some stowaways..er...friends and relatives. We docked
carefully as the skipper raised his concern about the tide going out.
Sailmaster Colin Philp gave the opening speech. I preached and prayed for the
canoes, the paddlers, the paddles, the sea, the waves, the fish and even the
humble kasikasi ( I guess I was in
the spirit). The crew of the Uto Ni Yalo
performed their now-famous Bole or
traditional challenge. Then it was time for breakfast for us as preparations
for the start of competition got underway.
Sailmaster
Colin, informed me that someone in one of the tents had a tanoa of kava prepared
for us so we went in search of this elixir of life and death and various shades
of in-between. As it was still early, and I had not yet received the call from
The Boss At Home to take her shopping, this seemed like a good idea. However no
such vessel of ambrosia could be found. So it was suggested that some of the
crew go and bring the Uto ni Yalo’s
tanoa and the kava they had onboard for just such emergencies. After a
10-minute wait we realised that the boys had not returned and looking towards
the famous sailing canoe we saw the reason. The sailors-turned-MaiTV-stars were
taking tours on the boat and posing for pictures with paddlers and the general
public.
We had
little choice but to fetch the tanoa ourselves and so with a singleness of
purpose Colin and I marched to and jumped aboard. Just in time for the skipper
to give the order to cast off as the canoe was in danger of being grounded by
the outgoing tide. In surprise I watched the distance between us and the land.
Were we sailing back to Lami (which would mean a long walk or a bus ride back
to Suva)? Were we going fishing? Were we heading to Hawai’i? Fortunately it was
only an exercise to move us further out into the bay.
As a result
I was forced to spend the next four hours sitting on the deck of the Uto Ni Yalo, drinking kava and listening
to the melodies strummed and sung by the crew to the gentle lap of the waves as
we watched the canoe regatta and I listened to stories of their adventures on
the high seas.
My adventure
that day came back to haunt me when we recently visited the Shangri-la’s Fijian
Resort. One afternoon I spied the non-motorised (and thus “free”) hobbie-cat and
had a flash back to a two-week catamaran sail on the Mediterranean Sea a decade
ago and my recent “Uto-ni-Yalo-experience”. I convinced my two children and The
Boss to join me for a short sail. It went well. My tacking and steering
impressed the love of my life and fruits of my loins. After a whole 15 minutes
we returned safely to shore. I suggested that, as the next day was our last
full day, we go for another sail immediately after breakfast. They agreed.
All too late
did I realise that I should have quit the stage when I was still a star. The
next day was a disaster. It was very windy out in the sea so whenever we picked
up some speed the choppy waves would frighten the children. The Boss started
toying with the idea that she might also be the captain as well, citing
i-Kiribati blood and the fact that she was traditionally chewing gum as enough
reason to be considered a Micronesian seafarer. That thought was knocked out of
her by the boom, which luckily was made out of aluminium so that there was little
injury. My wife was not badly injured either.
In the end
we hit a dead spot and had to be towed in after almost an hour. The Boss and
her brood, now no longer wanting to be daddy’s crew (I felt like the captain of
the Titannic) clambered onboard the rescue/tow boat while I held the ropes and
steered the hobbie back to shore. As I sat alone while my family eagerly faced
the approaching shore, I realised that perhaps naming the hobbie, Dalo ni Tana may not have been a good
it idea!
A sunbaked, self-confessed Jesus-freak,
Padre James Bhagwan spends his time between doing laps in the pool, lecturing
at Davuilevu Theological College, preaching at Dudley Methodist Church, playing
with his children and driving his wife around the bend.
No comments:
Post a Comment