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Fijians – The Happiest People On Earth!….

 In that article they show you photos from resorts and tourist attractions – not the real life.

Read – Fijians only dance, play drums, guitars and sing at luxury resorts! A real Fijian life is different from what you will be exposed to at resorts. In overpriced resorts, with terrible wifi connection and bed bugs, they will smile at you from ear to ear, wear a flower in their hair and scream “Bula!” at you non-stop. 99% of people who come to Fiji, stay at resorts and take only a few hours tour into a local village, where Fijians, will once again put on a mask, smile at you, kids will be laughing and screaming at you/with you, they will invite you to drink Kava with them (a plant/drug that tastes like dirt and get’s you very high and mellow after 4-5 cups). Fijians only play on guitars and sing with you at resorts. They sing badly learned American songs and a few Religious Fijian (Jesus) songs while drinking Kava, of course. You sit on your tanning bed, everyone smiles around you, you take a few pictures of gorgeous sunsets and go back home, thinking – “Wow! I love Fiji! They really are the happiest people on earth!”

 People like me, will never get sponsored by Tourism Boards. Simply because when I visit a country, I dig deep — past all the fake smiles, resorts and tourist attractions, that boost Tourism Industry in that specific country. This time, I dove really deep… I am most probably (and will remain as such) the only non-local to have stayed inside a Local Village (not a resort) during the strongest Cyclone in history of Fiji and possibly whole Pacific – Winston, category 5 and survived, simply because I was lucky.

I wanted to see the truth about Fiji and Fijians, I saw it — don’t like it. If you have only stayed at a resort in Fiji and taken a few hours tour into a local village, your opinion on the matter is irrelevant. If you get helicoptered out, in every country around the world (Read: US Peace Corps/Volunteers/Tourists) to safety every time shit hits the fan, your opinion on the matter is irrelevant. If you stayed at a local village for a few days, but have not been with these people during a Cyclone, your opinion on the matter is irrelevant.

Welcome to Real Fiji –

After my stay at the resort, for the only reason – to try and do some writing, I rented a room for 8 days in Yalobi Village through airbnb on one of the remote Islands in Fiji – Waya Island, Yasawa Group. Before I could even have a normal conversation on airbnb, the host (Onnie) requested that I should have Kava, because without it I won’t be allowed inside a village. I told her that I’m still in New Zealand, but as soon as I get to Fiji, I will be more than happy to buy it. Village life is simple — you learn to eat on the floor, accept the fact that every time you eat, you will share your food with flies, wear a long skirt and cover shoulders in 40 C heat, live without fans or running water and do your laundry in a local well. You learn to wash your own shit down with a small bucket of water, you forget how to wear sandals, you are almost always without power, (even though they say they have generator that works 2 hours per day – total lie – this means you can charge your phone, camera etc only 2-3 times in 8 days) you walk around saying “Bula!” (hello) to everyone and “Vinaka” (thank you) or “Vinandu Rikki” – the local dialect. And you try not to go crazy, when the Pastor, who happens to be the owner of the house, prays 3 times per day, 15 minutes each time. You get woken up every day by the only Cock, you don’t like to be woken up at 5 am and learn to sleep/wake up with dripping wet sweaty hair and body.

You smother yourself in anti-mosquito/sand flies spray 2-3 times per day and hide away from locals behind rocks, in order to swim in a bikini, because Missionaries came in, abolished their culture and way of life, told them to cover up, stop eating each other and tell them, that they are not allowed to swim/shower/sleep unclothed. They shower in the well and in rain wearing their clothes, starting from childhood.

You feel confident enough to stay here, inside a wooden shack during the Cyclone Season, because these people have told you, that they have a big Cave inside the mountains, to which they retreat during the Cyclones in this village and take food and water with them.

Fijians are way more lucky than most people in Africa  – they have cleanest water in wells, their land feeds them well and some even have solar power. When on second day of your stay, you are told to go to the “Chief” of the village and bring Kava Root with you, so he can allow you to stay and walk around the village, you take your camera with battery, which is almost dead and run with joy to be immersed into a local culture. Later on however, you find out, that he is not the chief and that this village wasn’t able to choose a chief in 15 years!

You feel very happy and grateful that you get prepared local food and learn to appreciate the simplicity of this type of life, without constant wifi connection. You do the dishes without running water and hug people for their kindness. It was my mistake, you are not allowed to hug, Fijians don’t hug. You thank them for everything they are doing for you. They invite you to drink Kava with them, but after a couple of sessions, you are over it. You eventually ask – “I heard a guitar song at neighbors, do you guys get together in the evenings, share stories, laugh, dance, play drums and enjoy each others company?” – “No! We drink Kava for many-many hours, get high on weed and that song that you heard on guitar is a religious song that is played once per day.”

The only drumming you hear is the drumming on a wooden log, telling everyone to go to church. Not a single dance, a song or a laugh. No joy, no giggles by the fire, no guitar, no drums. Gossip and Prayer — is the only thing you hear.

One day you go for a walk along the beach and see vets volunteers, who came here to try to fix the problem of too many dogs, by performing neutering procedures on tables of not yet build hostel. Samira Orchard, Eduard Cama, Roz Holland and Barry Springfield, do everything out of their own pocket and resorts, don’t even want to give them a simple discount for their stay and charge extra for everything, even for transport of medicine to the local villages. (Yes, I mean you, Octopus resort, along with your sister bed bugs infested “Blue Lagoon resort” and you, manager by the name of Caesar).

In Fijian villages, dogs are used for hunting wild pigs. Dogs are not looked after, they are all starving most of the time. Dogs here have no choice, but to start killing and eating the pigs, that they hunted (villagers food). I’ve seen dogs abused by grownups and children. Even though I sat with some of the kids and tried to explain that puppies are weak and need kindness. One day me and a few kids sat on a grass and named 6 puppies, played with them and then after a few days, during the cyclone, those kids put those defenseless creatures inside a box and thrown it towards the bush, where water was up to my hip from all the rain. When you try to confront young boys, their mothers defend them and see nothing wrong in their actions. Yes, it all starts with puppies, then these boys grow up and abuse women and everyone else who can’t answer back.

It was an unbearably hot and sticky afternoon, Onnie (the woman I rented a room from airbnb) prepared lunch for me and handed me a plate full of delicious local food. I thanked her and sat there in silence looking at my plate thinking “I can not eat all this by myself. I just can’t. Food is to be shared.” “Who is the poorest person in the village or who do you think would really want half of my plate right now?” — I asked Onnie. She was silent for a bit, then a few second later replied — “There is a man here, no one goes to see him, he is a bit crazy and everyone is afraid of him.” “Perfect! Please show me the way to his place” – was my answer. When I entered his house my jaw dropped — I was inside “The Beautiful Mind” film. His name is Kim, his whole hut is full of writings, from ceiling to the floor… Kim used to be a well-respected military man in Fiji, but something has happened to him during his military years and now he is on some kind of medication, he speaks in weird riddles, kids tease him, no one visits his hut, no one talks to him, everyone thinks he has the Devil inside of him. Barren women, even those who adopt kids, who have no parents are also considered to have Devil inside of them.

Kim was so happy to get a visitor. For the fist time in years, he joked, laughed and was accepted. In the next week, he had a friend. People were gossiping, laughing and joking. I didn’t care. I brought him food 2-3 times per day, walked down the beach with him and made boys on the beach throw me a ball, so I could pass it on to Kim. Kim hit it so well that all the boys in the water started rooting for Kim and got out of the water to join us in a little football game. Kim has some skills, I tell ya! For the split moment, those boys forgot how crazy and scary Kim is and made him part of their life and joy, without realizing it. Our joy was soon interrupted by some old angry man, who started running around angrily with the stick and making all the boys leave the beach and go to church…

Yes, too much fun, can not be tolerated here! Church and Kava, Church and Kava! I spend hours with Kim, talking and listing to him. No matter how crazy his thoughts were, I listened. He run out of chalk, so I bought him some from the neighbor and also gave him a shirt, because all of his, are very much torn. He wrote my name above his bed and said that he wants to marry me. “But I’m a bad wife, Kim! I don’t cook, don’t clean”… Without missing a beat, he replies “Oh that’s ok, we have girls here, to help” – pointing at women who gathered inside, because they have never seen any “outsider” enter his hut before. They of course laughed, I laughed and so did Kim. He reminded me of my father , who even when his mind was weak and foggy after cancer treatments, still requested pen and paper so he could work. My fathers writing didn’t make sense anymore, but his mind refused to give up.

I spent many hours on a wooden porch with a 9 year-old Pina, that I got attached to, while living here. We took pictures, danced and laughed. Her friend and I were being silly and pretended to be witches, that flew around in a circle on a broom, right in front of a preacher, from whom I was renting my room. It was a delicious moment! This “preacher” , this “man of god”, this “I pray 3 times per day” man with a sign by his bed that reads “Win Souls To Jesus At Any Cost”, was laughing at me every time I went to Kim’s hut to share half of my plate. He called all his relatives and was laughing over the phone… “Kim and Elena” — something I heard from all corners of Yalobi Village for the next week. Kids were asking if his my friend, to which I replied “Yes, he is my best friend here. He is very smart, very funny and has a very good heart, please take care of him, when I leave.” Young men were laughing saying “oh, where’s your boyfriend Kim?”.

I asked Pina and her friends to all sit down and make a necklace for Kim… and so we did. They were all screaming and yelling “This is for Kim, this is for Kim!!” I saved the necklace in my room, so me, Pina and the rest of the kids could give it to him, before I leave the village.

Here, I met Adriane Kline — a young American gal, who has a contract with “US Peace Corps”. She lived here for a year and a half, teaches kids the importance of relationships, paints a world map on the walls of a school and got 10k from US government for her “water project” for the school, because of sanitary issues. I sat at her class, listening to her speak in Fijian and English, show kids the importance of friendships and what kind of qualities we should look for in a friend. Great gal! Really trying to do good-by everyone. Will never ever share the truth about Fijians, simply because its politically incorrect and if she does start saying/writing what she really thinks, she can kiss goodbye to her “water project” and a medal of honor from Peace Corps for her input into the land of smiles and Kava. I was the only person she was able to hug here in a long time.

What I did not know about Peace Corps before, is that they are the first to be hellicopted out of EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY along with all the tourists, when shit hits the fan. Read – Cyclones, Terrorism attacks, etc. She was the one who told me when I said that government needs to help these people more — “You’re wrong, they need to learn how to do things on their own, they have clean water and land that feeds them.” I agree with her about water and food, but I strongly disagree about other things. Things that people like her and all other people who work for Peace Corps have no clue about, because they have NEVER stayed with these people, in these houses, during a Cyclone. I did.

I could never sign a contract that said I must leave people behind, let them die, while saving my own ass. I could never leave people who I got attached to over period of time. How can you leave these kids, people, your friends and get boated out to safety? I don’t think I could ever work for such organization.

In a few days Ms. Kline informs me that she is being evacuated, because Cyclone is heading straight into the Yasawa Islands. Oh ok, pumpkin, safe travels! Do you think this woman asked me, a USA Citizen if I wanted a ride to safety? This chick didn’t even gave me a chance to say “No!” to her. There was a badly burned 8 month-old baby, who’s both hands were burned by boiling water on the day Adriane Kline, hit the road. Do you think Ms. Kline took that baby to the Hospital on the last boat out of the village? She’s crying on her blog now, how devastated she is, how people need to send money, posted pictures of “after math”… but packed her shit, left the burned baby behind and escaped to a safe hotel with the rest of tourists and peace corps, because “IT IS AGAINST THE POLICY TO TAKE LOCALS!”

I could NEVER leave without that baby and mother even if it cost me my job and life. But that’s me.

 When I asked what people do here for safety measures, they assured me that there is a big Cave in the mountains, where they hide. They said they take food and water and wait it out in the mountains. As I looked around, seeing the wooden shacks of theirs, I said “Wow! How smart of them! Cave really is the only safe option around here!”

Little did I know… as it later turned out, they haven’t used that Cave since 1970’s, because they are sure that their Government has built strong enough houses to withstand a Monster like WINSTON – Category 5 Cyclone. As I was waving at the last boat out of the Yalobi Village, with Adriane and all her things in it, I said to myself — “So long cowards! Bring it on baby!” Right then and there I realized a very simple truth – “I’d rather die with these people here now, than with cowards sometime later”.

As 20th of February rolled in, Cyclone Winston was already on its way to make his entrance for some Kava session. It was so windy, I could barely hold my camera anymore. Still in my mind I thought that we will all go to Cave soon. People were very relaxed, putting wooden planks on windows, having Kava, pulling their boats out of the water and some youngsters and I danced on waves.  As the evening came closer I knew it was time to pack food, water, take the kids and head to the Cave. As you sat in your cozy living room, you probably heard reports on the “news”, that all tourists were evacuated from all the islands. Keep believing the bullshit darlings! The news were wrong — 1 stayed behind. The reception was already really bad, it wasn’t that good from the start, now it’s almost impossible to call or text. I picked up a phone and called my mom to tell her I’m ok and that I love her, Mr. Bond whom I thanked for our pretty incredible life, and my close soul Dima (a person without whom, I would not have known the exact location of Cyclone and if I should try to save at least someone by taking them with me to the mountains).

When I urged and begged people, that it’s time to go to the Cave, everyone informed me that they don’t go to Cave anymore. “We stay in our houses” I’m sorry, did the Cave started charging too much money to save your lives? I wish someone would have been filming this moment, because my face turned white. I insisted Onnie call Adriane and ask her information about Cyclone. We were able to reach her, but no information was given to us. I panicked “Adriane, they don’t go to the Cave anymore!!” — “Your best bet is the cement house” — was her reply. Seriously? You are not going to tell these people the truth? Do you have any idea what 300 km per hour winds is or what category 5 is? I called Mr. Bond and said that there is no cave, that they don’t want to go and no one cares or realizes what Category 5 Cyclone will do to this place. Reassured him that there is a cement house, that was built by the government (as I was told by Onnie) and that I will hide there. The “cement” house was essentially a wooden shack smothered in cement, it had a broken wooden roof and doors and glass windows, barely hanging on planks.

I urged pastor to leave his wooden shack and go to the mountains. Reply was a “No! I’m staying here!”

Which reminded me of a story that fits this situation perfectly —

A terrible storm came into a town and local officials sent out an emergency warning that the riverbanks would soon overflow and flood the nearby homes. They ordered everyone in the town to evacuate immediately. A faithful Christian man heard the warning and decided to stay, saying to himself, “I will trust God and if I am in danger, then God will send a divine miracle to save me.” The neighbors came by his house and said to him, “We’re leaving and there is room for you in our car, please come with us!” But the man declined. “I have faith that God will save me.” As the man stood on his porch watching the water rise up the steps, a man in a canoe paddled by and called to him, “Hurry and come into my canoe, the waters are rising quickly!” But the man again said, “No thanks, God will save me.” The floodwaters rose higher pouring water into his living room and the man had to retreat to the second floor.

A police motorboat came by and saw him at the window. “We will come up and rescue you!” they shouted. But the man refused, waving them off saying, “Use your time to save someone else! I have faith that God will save me!” The flood waters rose higher and higher and the man had to climb up to his rooftop. A helicopter spotted him and dropped a rope ladder. A rescue officer came down the ladder and pleaded with the man, “Grab my hand and I will pull you up!” But the man STILL refused, folding his arms tightly to his body. “No thank you! God will save me!” Shortly after, the house broke up and the floodwaters swept the man away and he drowned. When in Heaven, the man stood before God and asked, “I put all of my faith in You. Why didn’t You come and save me?” And God said, “Son, I sent you a warning. I sent you a car. I sent you a canoe. I sent you a motorboat. I sent you a helicopter. What more were you looking for?”

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The “cement” house was a house where Pina lived… It could have been any other house and I would have probably ran to the mountains, because all I kept hearing is “It’s their choice” when I said that people will die if this monster of a Cyclone comes straight into the village and they don’t escape to the mountains. I felt tired and very much in shock at how absolutely unaware these people are. I looked at happy Pina, because I was with her, at her super calm and clueless mother, who was doing laundry… She was doing laundry, people!!! The strongest Cyclone to ever hit Fiji and these people are drinking Kava, laughing at you for urging them to go to the mountains and worried about breadfruit falling down. Fijians are the most clueless and uneducated bunch when it comes to Cyclones and different categories! They should be taught this in school!! The winds were picking up, my ears started to plug up, because of pressure, you can hear parts of houses falling and trees around you. I made a video of us laughing into the camera… because sometimes, all you have left is laughter.

They are happy because they are clueless and unaware. I was happy because I might die with clueless and unaware, rather than with cowards. As I lay there on the floor on top of a mattress, looking at Pina, my thoughts were “I have to cover her with myself in case the roof, windows and doors crash inside… I had an amazing life… hell yeah! One for the books! I am in love, I am loved back, I have danced to my own beat all my life, no matter what, but I wish I could love, dance and laugh for a little longer. If I don’t, so be it. I can not leave Pina. Can I steal her away and run to the mountains? Will her snoring mother wake up? Where is that cave? It’s so dark, cold and windy…”  I had to fight with Memcy (Pina’s mother) over the fact that she wanted me and her 9-year-old Pina to go outside to pee and refused to bring the bucket inside the house! I screamed at her that she has to bring it inside, because it was already Armageddon outside — trees, roofs, parts of houses were flying.

I won, she eventually got up and brought it inside. Pina’s grandfather was only worried about breadfruit that is now all on the ground. I caught reception one more time, Dima’s messages said that it’s heading straight at us… I put over myself a blanket, got closer to Pina, who sang me a song before she went to sleep, brushed my hand over her head, kissed her forehead and took her hand inside of my palm. It was very intense couple of hours, before I heard the wind starting to die down. Managed to get another text from Dima around 11pm that read — “Winston just wiggled it’s tail near your village and went South…If it was to turn North, it would have come straight at you…”. Dima’s messages were air to me, that I held onto so tightly. I kept switching on/off the phone, in order to save battery.

As soon as people heard the winds die out, they put up their laundry again, did some weed and asked me if I wanted to – “Of course!” You either join this absolute clueless nut-house or you get the hell out of here with tourists and “peace corps”. I was nervous because someone kept saying they heard on radio that it was coming back. They were inviting me for tea, Kava, Weed, while looking very sad, because their breadfruit is all on the ground. At midnight it started to tear things down again and continued until morning. “Oh, I have to get the laundry from the street again” – said a very annoyed Memcy. Grandpa who was upset about breadfruit, moved away from the window and jumped at every falling sound. I slept maybe an hour that night. Some houses were trashed, some flooded, schools rooftops torn out and flown into the mountains. Winston simply went by this village and school… It did NOT come in. I went around asking if they thought that Cyclone actually came into the village – answer was “Yes! of course it did!” Their local Nurse Natasha, Indian who was born in Fiji is as clueless and uninformed as the rest of the village about Cyclones. She didn’t even know that there is a Cave in the mountains. When I asked someone at her “office” if they think Cyclone came straight into the village or not, she turned her back towards me and shook her head to the guy so he can give me the correct answer.

Ms. Kline, your mission if you choose to accept it is to –

1. – Get the whole village together and educate them about different Categories of Cyclones, what they mean, what they can do and that their Cave in the mountains is the only option of survival if Category 5 Cyclone, like Winston will come straight into the village for some Kava-drinking session. Teach the kids in school compassion towards animals and mentally ill.

2. – Try to convince Fiji government to build these people much STRONGER houses and schools.

Your water project for the school is a great thing to accomplish, really it is! But If these people have their schools torn out from the ground, their rooftops flown to the mountains and kids lives constantly in danger because of not strong enough houses, than how can your water project benefit? These images are from the school… and this Cyclone didn’t even hit full force, it just strolled by…

I mean, I get it, if people were educated about Cyclones, ran to the mountains and survived, they’d be a lot more people demanding new houses from the government. But if people die inside their wooden shacks, they’ll be less money out of Mr. Government’s hooker’s purse.

In 3 days, not a single helicopter came by to check on us. Not one! Maybe some of you don’t know, but here’s the kicker —

IN FIJI NOT A SINGLE LOCAL OR A RESORT WORKER IS ALLOWED TO BE EVACUATED FROM REMOTE ISLANDS DURING CYCLONES, NO MATTER WHAT CATEGORY IT IS. ONLY TOURISTS, RESORT OWNERS, THEIR FAMILIES AND US PEACE CORPS ARE EVACUATED TO SAFETY. 

In those 3 days before I was supposed to hire a boat and try to get to mainland before my departure to Vanuatu, I spend with Pina’s family. Her mother Memcy told me a sad story of how it is hard to raise Pina by herself, because her husband left them etc. She gave me interview for my documentary and begged me to buy her a phone, because she doesn’t have one. I left most of my clothes at her house and Onnie’s. Left her my Advil, that she shared with other people, who came to thank me, cause their tooth pain was finally gone and took care of Pina’s boil on her hand with Manuka honey bandages. I promised Memcy to get her the phone, I gave her my word. On 23rd of February I hired a small boat to take me to Barefoot Kuata resort and from there to try to catch a tourist Flier operated by “Awesome Adventures” that would take me to Nadi. Me and Pina gave the necklace to Kim, I hugged Pina and said goodbye to everyone. Took the burned 8-month-old baby with his mother with me on a boat and we left.

At the Barefoot Kuata resort, I was greeted by Marie, Thomas, Rachel, Kris and Craig — all are foreigners who are staff members and who also were refused entry on boats, some stayed and some returned from mainland to help. There were also Fijian staff members. They were very nice to cook us some lunch and give us some coffee. Marie and I went to get some coffee to a place where they were hiding during Cyclone, we shared our memories from that night, she told me how they were trying to convince Fijian staff members to stop drinking Kava and try to hide in a safe house and how they were all laughing at Marie for trying to warn them. Me and Marie gave each other a hug and shed a few tears, while holding each other. I was still not sure if the “Awesome Adventures” flier will pass by, reception was out, no way to contact them.

I gathered my bags and walked down to water to try to catch a glimpse of flier if it was to come this way. A small shark swam near my feet, sun was beating down and water was really calm, it caressed my feet with such tenderness, that you forget, it was flooding houses just a few nights ago. In a distance, I see a flier and start waving and yelling… they didn’t change their speed and continued passing by us… It’s the last one out today and the only one in who knows how long time. Started yelling for staff to get the mother and baby, get the captain and try to chase the boat down. The flier was empty!! When we finally was able to reach it, it was empty, music was playing loud, they had a couple drunken resort workers on top floor dancing and laughing.

I asked why they didn’t stop, when they could clearly see we were trying to chase them down, crew of “Awesome Adventures” just laughed.

I spotted a blonde girl, came up to her and asked where she was during Cyclone. “I decided to stay with my boyfriend, who worked at one of the resorts” — That’s love for you, boys and girls! Reapi who is 28 and her 8 month old son Apisai, were to meet their relatives at the port, who would take them to Hospital later on. I promised her that I will stay with her and baby until her brother-in-law arrives and if no one shows up, I will not leave her. She lost her shoes, while chasing the boat down, so I went and bought her some shoes.

In about an hour their relatives came in, thanked me for getting baby to the port and said that their home is open for me. At the port, security were very much surprised when I said I wasn’t local or staff member, while getting of the flier. I made my way to Abhi – a person without whom, it would be so much harder for me in Fiji. I rented a room from him before and did so again. He cooked for me and drove me around. We became friends, I know that he is the person I can trust and who has my back. He is of Indian decent and lives for now in Nadi. A very interesting young man, who also, like me, dances to his own beat. He also agreed to the interview for my documentary. I told Abhi, that I promised Memcy a phone, so he drove me around town in search of a phone. I bought it, put money on it for wifi and calls, but all post offices closed, so Abhi was the only person who could have given it to Onnie a woman I rented a room from (Memcy’s relative), when she is in Nadi next time.

Later I get a review from Onnie saying I was a rude guest and all other negative stuff. They don’t know anything about Cyclones, while living in the Pacific, but sure know how to leave reviews. (funny) When Abhi gave her the phone, she was absolutely uninterested and apparently, Memcy manipulates “outsiders” to do different favors for her. I’m sad that Pina is growing up in such family.

I called the number belonging to the phone from Vanuatu and Pina picked up… I asked to speak to her mother, but heard Memcy say something to Pina and phone was hung up. I’m yet to get a simple “thank you”, either by email, text or call. How different people are around the world… A 10-year-old Cuban girl, a year later, still calls me every month to tell me how much she loves me and asks me when I am coming to visit her.

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The truth maybe sometimes is better not known. Or is it?

My close friend asked me — “Why did you stay?!”

I stayed because no matter how much I disagreed with these people and their ways, no matter how much I fought with them and argued, no matter how much I dislike how they treat animals, women and mentally ill, I don’t believe that my life is more important than there’s. It’s simply not. Why do we live in a world when a person from his own land is told, “your life is less important than a Peace Corps life or a tourist life”?

That is why I stayed this time and this is why I will stay next time.

IF A LOCAL OF A COUNTRY IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE EVACUATED DURING EMERGENCY, NEITHER SHOULD I.

It was a very calming realization and a very peaceful thought.

Yes, I will walk on broken tin roofs barefoot, get scratched by pieces of fallen trees and houses, have my heart racing and feel sad, that I might never dance again, but know in my heart, that regardless of all our differences with these people, regardless of how much they might think I was rude for telling their kids off or for trying to explain to them the potential impact of a category 5 Cyclone, I am equal to them. My life is no more important than there’s.

Therein lies the Inconvenient truth for me — I agreed to die with people I disagreed with, because their lives are as important as my own.

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If you wish to help this village and bypass “third parties”, here’s the direct contact.

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The woman behind The Inconvenient Truth …

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