Supernatural: A Fijian Experience

My wife and I lived on the grounds of Ratu Kadavulevu School (RKS), a boarding school nestled deep in the rural stretches of Tailevu. Each day, I endured a long commute to Suva—a three-hour bus ride over rugged gravel roads that rocked me into a half-sleep. At 4 a.m., the darkness pressed against the bus windows as we left for the city. I would drift in and out of consciousness, lulled by the jolts and sways, until we finally reached Suva at 7 a.m. The return journey after work was always more complicated—a patchwork of minivans and luck. From Suva to Nausori, Nausori to Korovou. If we missed the last bus from Korovou, my friend Sikeli and I would hire a ute, splitting the cost. The drivers of these carriers knew everyone in the area and always had news or stories to share. One evening, Sikeli and I missed the bus, so we climbed into the back of a dusty old ute as the sun dipped behind the hills. The driver, a local man with deep lines etched into his face, navigated the winding gravel...

Walking home from Korovou to RKS after missing the last bus, with no carriers in sight, Sikeli and I resolved to make the journey on foot. This was back when the road was still rough gravel, long before the well-lit highway of today. There were shortcuts—dark, tangled paths through dense woods—that could shave off a good portion of the trip. I’d never dare walk those paths alone, but with Sikeli beside me and our conversation filling the night, I felt safer. Even then, there were stretches where we fell silent, our senses sharpened. Every sound, every movement snagged our ears; our eyes darting, nostrils flaring, straining to catch the scent of anything amiss. The air hung thick with tension, especially on moonless nights, when it felt like something unseen might be stalking us from the shadows, waiting, watching as we threaded our way through those dreaded patches. A wave of relief would wash over me as soon as my feet touched the rough gravel again—the sharp bite of pebbles underfoot...

Walking home from Korovou to RKS after missing the last bus, with no carriers in sight, Sikeli and I decided to take the journey on foot. This was back when the road was still rough gravel, long before the well-lit highway of today. There were shortcuts, dark and tangled paths through dense woods that could shave off a good portion of the trip. I’d never dare to walk those paths alone, but with Sikeli beside me and our conversation filling the dark, I felt safer. Even then, there were stretches where we fell silent, senses sharp. Every sound, every movement caught our ears; eyes darting, nostrils flaring to catch the scent of anything amiss. The air hung thick with tension, especially on moonless nights when it felt like something unseen might be stalking us from the shadows, waiting, watching as we made our way through those dreaded patches. A sense of relief would wash over me as soon as my feet touched the rough gravel again—the sharp bite of pebbles underfoot a welcome reminder tha...

My wife and I lived on the grounds of Ratu Kadavulevu School (RKS), a boarding school deep in the rural stretches of Tailevu. Each day, I endured the long commute to Suva—a three-hour bus ride along the rugged gravel roads that rocked me into a half-sleep. At 4 a.m., the darkness pressed against the bus windows as we left for the city, and I would drift in and out, lulled by the jolts and sways, until we finally reached Suva at 7 a.m. The return journey after work was always more complicated—a patchwork of minivans and luck. From Suva to Nausori, Nausori to Korovou. If we missed the last bus from Korovou, my friend Sikeli and I would hire a ute, sharing the cost. The drivers of these carriers knew everyone in the area, always with news or stories to share. One evening, Sikeli and I missed the bus, so we climbed into the back of a dusty old ute as the sun sank behind the hills. The driver, a local man with deep lines etched into his face, navigated the winding gravel road as twilight se...

Walking home from Korovou to RKS after missing the last bus and no carriers in sight. Sikeli and I, decided to walk home. This was on the old gravel road before the tar sealed well lit highway we have today. There were shortcuts that we could take thru dark wooded areas that would significantly reduce the time it takes to get home. These dark and lonely paths, I would never walk alone but in the company of Sikeli and a hearty conversations. There were parts where we would remain silent, senses heightened. Eyes, hears, smell and skin, sensing for danger, ready to alert us to in the moment. The eerie silence in the woods, especially on moonless nights compounded your fear that some malevolent spirit stalking your movements as you pass these dreadfully awful patches. Your spirit would lift again as your feel reconnected with the gravel road. A distinct feeling from the smooth mud path to rough uneven pebbles under your foot. Still a thick darkness surrounding you but your heart lighter th...

 Sakapo Vodivodi and Na Gera - saw an illuminated white cross on the top of Koroirea. Heralds from Tui Bua arrived with an edict for Solevu to accept Methodists as their new religion. The Tabua (Whales Tooth) was returned to Tui Bua, as Sakapo and Na Gera prepared for war. ————/————/————/————/ On a desolate and moonless night, Naqera loomed in the shadows, a solitary figure guarding his slumbering village. Wisps of smoke snaked through the air like spectral apparitions, blending with the starless expanse above, while dying embers cast a haunting glow, relinquishing the last remnants of warmth from the huts. This was the routine of the Chieftain—a sentinel overseeing his vulnerable flock as darkness unfurled its ominous cloak. The night, a harbinger of peril, invited sinister entities from the depths of the sea and the depths of the forest to wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting sleepers. Naqera, eternally vigilant, had confronted these perils before, his senses razor-sharp, anticipati...