Richard Clutterbuck, rainmaker

For nearly five weeks I passed through the Pacific islands accompanied by nearly constant rain. Deluge, flood and storm in quick succession. I'm now in Australia, staying with long-term friends Leigh and Corina. They live in Queanbeyan, near Canberra, but picked me up from Sydney and have now taken me to their holiday home on the coast. At first Australia seemed the opposite of the islands, even though it's approaching winter: full sun with cold nights and warm days. On Sunday that all changed. I preached in the Uniting Church in Queanbeyan (my third gig there over the last 12 years) before we headed for the coast. Cue for the end of a long,  dry spell, with rain lashing the mountains as we drove through them. Parts of Australia have been in the grip of terrible drought, but in some areas the last 24 hours have seen the heaviest rain in decades. Is it me bringing the rain or the fact that a general election campaign has just started? 

 Evidence of a successful morning's fishing.

  Looking to Broulee Island from Mossy Point

The emphasis this week has been on relaxation before the long flight back to the UK. 35 years ago I was best man at Leigh and Corina's wedding in the Catholic basilica in Tonga. Leigh's father was a Methodist minister missionary in Tonga in the 50s and Corina's family moved to Tonga in the 60s. Leigh's a retired economist who, even before the last recession, was telling us that the world's economies were built on unsustainable debt. Corina, among many other gifts, is a superb gardener. She has a growing bonzai tree collection, an orchard full of citrus trees and several raised beds for vegetables. As a couple they're wonderfully hospitable. Oh, and they have world's best-behaved Labrador, Benji. Conversation ranges over the three cultures - Philippino. Tongan and Australian - embraced in their household. 

Broulee is about 200 miles south of Sydney, right on the coast, with miles of pristine beach backed by forest. Wombats and kangaroos (both bigger than you might think) roam the roadside after dark, a strong incentive for daylight travel. Leigh took me fishing, with enough success to avoid embarrassment but not so much as to make us boast. 

I know human beings have been in Australia for 50,000 years +, but they don't seem to have had the same impact as their European counterparts. Almost anywhere in Europe - including Ireland - you can see how humans have shaped the landscape: cutting down forest, draining bogs, growing crops, building monuments of one kind or another. Here, the landscape feels more elemental. Add to that the completely different flora and fauna of Australia - marsupials on the ground, gum trees instead of oak and beech, raucous flocks of cockatoos flying above you - and this does feel very alien. More so, in some ways, than the Pacific islands. This is a wonderful and awe-inspiring world. 

 Corina's new wicking bed for growing veg in a dry climate. 

Farewell Polynesia

I'm writing this at 36,000 feet, surrounded by Tongans who are travelling to Australia. Many will have been attending funerals or other family events in Tonga, some travelling for work or study. There's a complex relationship between Tonga and its expatriate communities- they send welcome funds back to families and churches but also draw off talent and develop a life of their own.

My last day in Tonga provided meetings at Dr Moulton House, the Church HQ. I was able to say hello to Tutu'aleva, former teaching colleague of Diane, now training people in counselling. It's reassuring to meet someone after many years and they are as  attractive a personality as when they were younger. A useful talk with 'Ahio, the Church President, focused on setting up some courses on Methodist theology, an idea that has been around for several years but has been frustratingly difficult to put into practice. It's just possible that I'll be back in a year or so for this: we'll see. 

Saia took me on a drive out to Toloa, home of Tupou College, the flagship church boarding school for boys, founded by James Egan Moulton in 1866 on the model of an English public school. Moulton's brother had founded the Leys School in Cambridge, and J E obviously didn't want to be left out. Boys are housed in large dormitories and live a strict life with plenty of work on the food plantations in the nearby bush - something that probably doesn't happen at Eton and Harrow. It's the 150th anniversary in a few weeks and the campus is full of furious, last-minute building and road-mending. We went into the vast chapel/hall where a new pulpit was being constructed behind the biggest communion table I've ever seen.

 

Seeing Tonga through the eyes of Saia, newly returned from 20 years in New Zealand, is fascinating. He can't understand why things aren't better organised! Driving back from, we found ourselves behind a car with an upturned bathtub on the roof. After a While we realised that the only thing holding it on were 3 brown hands (one of them belong to the driver) that emerged from the windows to grip the bath's sides. Saia wasn't impressed! 

In the Evening I was taken out to dinner by a former student, Fale Lomu, and his wife. Decades ago Fale had been my student assistant in the Sia'atoutai library as we laboured through hot afternoons to create a catalogue using a card index and a typewriter with wonky keys. As a minister he's served on the staff of the college, written a commentary on the Psalms in Tongan and now works with the evangelism team. Hearing him talk about the joy of discovering pastoral ministry and the need for the church to serve the poor was another heartwarming moment. 

 

 

Saia picked me up from the Tungi Colonnade at 4.45am. Church bells were already ringing - probably for an early Ascension Day mass at the Catholic Cathedral. In the airport departure lounge I found Siotame Havea, until recently principal of Sia'atoutai but now troubleshooting the Tongan church in Australia. It turned out he was the one person I should have been talking to in my visit! He'd initiated the idea of funding for Methodist theology courses and had a clear idea of what they should do. 

Visiting and leaving Tonga is a mixed experience. The three years there were intensely important at a key stage for my life and ministry. So there's an element Of reconnection - and, of course - wondering what has happened to all the intervening years. There's joy in meeting people again and receiving generous hospitality. There's sadness, too. You sense that Tonga has been left behind in development and that many of the signs of apparent progress - the huge number of cars, for example - are actually reducing the quality of life. But Tongans cope with the world as it is, even if it's different from the way they'd like it to be. I guess that's something we all need to learn. 

Life, death and longevity in Tonga

To be at home in Tonga you need to tear up your diary and forget your schedules. Like it or not, going with the flow is the only option. I booked just a few days in Tonga because I really had only one specific task to do. I should have known better. Just before I left Samoa I had news of the sad death of the wife of the General Secretary of the Tongan Church. As Tevita was really the person I was coming to see, that was a blow. Now that I'm here, the funeral of Sela has dominated everything. It's a privilege to be with people in this situation - you just have to trust that this is more important than your own plans. 

Faka Me

Sunday morning I was back at my old college, Sia'atoutai, where I taught in '79,80 & 81. I'm welcomed as a long-lost relative - Diane and I were married in the college chapel and made our first home on the campus. There are a couple of my old students on the staff. I was preaching (in place of Tevita ) at the annual children's service, always held on the first Sunday in May. Children are dressed in white and take most of the service, reciting the scripture readings and hymns. It's one of the big events of the year - everyone wants their children to look gorgeous. At the feast afterwards  several speeches praised the simplicity of my sermon, which made me wonder if I had been disappointingly simplistic. I'd tried to speak of the way children teach us about God. The feast, by the way, included a first taste of the freshly-harvested yams, I impressed people (I like to think) by successfully identifying them as the ufi kahokaho variety. 

 

Monday I had been due to teach at the college. However, the students had been up most of the night cooking food for the coming funeral, so were too sleepy. I had a day off, getting some writing done, having a haircut (by a young Chinese man called David) and reacquainting myself with Nuku'alofa's best coffee shop, Cafe Escape. Sai'a, who's looking after me, says he's grateful I'm showing him some of the good places to eat in town as he hasn't had chance too find them yet. In the evening I ate spaghetti con frutti di mare in Little Italy, a lovely Italian restaurant by the shore. 

Tuesday morning saw me joining the crowds at Centenary Church for the funeral. I couldn't really take photos, so I've used a picture from the web to give an impression. I'll try and paint the scene. The church (and it's a big one) is packed. Everyone is in black and wearing a ta'ovala, the woven mat that signals respect. There are special versions for funerals, including some that almost cover a person. This is for those who are tu'a to the deceased - socially inferior according to the complicated family structure. Unusually, the King, queen and princess Royal are all present. I found myself on the front row with Kini, wife of the church president. The students of Sia'atoutai were there in force (as well as General Secretary of the church Tevita is also Prncipal of the college) and so were the brass bands from various Methodist schools. Sela's body lay on a pile of tapa cloth and mats, covered in a white cloth but not in a coffin. The funeral itself was a mixture of church service and complex Tongan tradition, with every task carefully allocated to the appropriate relative. My old principal, Lopeti Taufa, still dignified at 89, offered the opening prayer. Other dignitaries led the hymns and readings. 'Ahio, the president preached for about an hour. The adopted children of Sela, both from Fiji, spoke. They only looked about 12 and were amazingly brave. From the Church the body was borne to the cemetery, accompanied by bands playing Abide with me. The grave had been built as a cement tomb and the body, wrapped in a mat, was lowered in. and covered with sand. After the prayers and the formal thanks we  were all invited to take a flower and drop it into the grave and then were given a hymn book in memory of Sela. When it was all over the mood lightened. I was approached by a group of women who had been teachers with Diane at Queen Salote College. Now they are senior ministers - Tonga being more advanced in the area of gender equality than 

Samoa. 

 

I spent the afternoon with Lopeti, simply delighted to have one more chance to meet him. His daughters were our bridesmaids and he and his late wife Mele acted like parents to us while we were at Sia'atoutai. Lopeti still does some teaching, he's part of a team working on a new translation of the Old Testament, and he's promoting a tree- planting scheme for the outer islands. Pretty good for a 89 year-old! 

 

Goodbye Samoa

3.30 am Saturday I said goodbye to Piula College and set off for the airport. I'm very glad I came. Samoa is a beautiful country with a proud sense of culture and a stable social structure. It feels very safe. There was no lock on the house I stayed in. By comparison Everyone in Fiji is very concerned about security - especially in the city. 

Hospitality was overwhelming. Thursday evening was my last night eating with my 'aiga (pronounced ayinga). Each tutor has responsibility for a group of married and single students. They have a large communal cooking, eating and meeting house. Children and dogs mill around. They  kept telling me how much they enjoyed having me as it meant they were cooking better meals than usual. It made me aware that I was using valuable resources, so I did pass on a donation for their funds. I wondered how some of them had coped. One of the student's wives had been brought up in New Zealand, hadn't known much Samoan and had had to fit into the demands of a very strict way of life. She said she wept every night for the first month, but was happy now. 

 My 'aiga

Friday night the faculty had a farewell feast for me and for Viliami, the educational consultant from Fiji. Formality was the order of the day. Everything, from the kava ceremony beforehand, through the seating arrangements (separate tables for guests of honour, the principal, tutors, prncipal's wife and tutors' wives) to the speeches and presentation of gifts. I suspect that protocol in the Prussian court of the nineteenth century was casual by comparison. Of course, you feel totally out of your depth when you don't know the conventions. My little gift to the principal seemed puny in comparison with the heap of souvenirs and lava lava cloths piled up in front of me by a line of dancing women. I would have needed several extra cases to bring them with me, so could only take a sample and leave the rest to be recycled through the gift- giving system. 

 The end of the 5.00 am prayer meeting, complete with sleeping children!

All of this traditional culture is combined with an impressive programme of academic development. Piula probably leads the way among national theological colleges in the region. It has staff members who are completing PhDs overseas, so the faculty is being strengthened all the time. 

 From the end of WW1 until independence Samoa was annexed to New Zealand. That means it has been relatively easy for Samoans to stay and work in New Zealand. I wonder, long-term, how people - including the students at Piula - will cope with being split between two cultures.

I flew first back to Nadi in Fiji (transport between Pacific countries is expensive and rarely straightforward) then had a 5 hour wait for a flight to Tonga. Ah, Tonga! In some ways it's very different from when I first arrived in January 1979. Horses and carts (and bikes) are replaced by cars, mobile phones are universal, ATM machines dispense cash, new concrete and glass offices and stores have sprung up. Yet I suspect that John Henry Newman's description of the Catholic Church also applies to Tonga: it changes in order to stay the same. Building and development schemes come and go, but there's a strong sense of inertia compared to the energy in Fiji. Compared with the orderliness, beauty and communal pride in Samoan villages, There's a makeshift quality about Tongan settlements. Perhaps that's because so many families around Nuk'alofa have come from elsewhere in Tonga.

I was met by Taliai from Sia'atoutai and Sai'a from the Church Office. Sai'a is a young minister who has recently returned to Tonga after 20 years on New Zealand and He is charged with looking after me. He took me to my room at the Tungi Colonnade - part of a commercial complex owned by the church in the centre of Nuku'alofa - still being built last time I was here. Then we went for a meal at the Billfish down by the fish wharfs at Ma'ufanga - something of a Tongan jewel. I had eaten there my last night in Tonga 4 years ago. They still do great fish dishes. 

More on Tonga in the next post. 

The cruel sea

Thursday started slowly. Just as well as I was a bit delicate following a minor bout of food poisoning yesterday. My next door neighbour Lousaline had it too - we suspect the raw fish in coconut cream at Tuesday night's faculty dinner, an otherwise wonderful evening by the shore with men around the tanoa (kava bowl). I was due to be taken on a sightseeing trip at 8.30  but a problem with the college minibus (someone thought a spare wheel would be a good idea, given the terrain we were due to cover) meant we didn't set off till nearly midday. With Titimeia driving we headed for the hills - the lush, rainforest that covers most of the interior of Upolu. Tall tree ferns started to replace coconut palms, then majestic hardwood trees with vivid creepers. Streams, rivers and waterfalls dot the landscape and we passed a hydro- electric dam. It's sparsely populated, but there are villages, and even occasional cattle and sheep farms. 

 Looking down a waterfall in the rain forest. 

 Eventually, the road took us downhill again till we joined the south coast. The villages are closer together here, and many of them have family and village- run holiday resorts. These tend to be simple huts on the edge of the beach with a toilet block and snack bar. We stopped for lunch at one of them. It's difficult to believe, but this idyllic spot, a delightful beach resort on a strand of golden sand, was the centre of a life and death struggle when, in September 2009, a massive tsunami was triggered by an offshore earthquake and powered into the southern shore of Upolu. The tsunami struck in the early hours of the morning when most people were asleep. Around 100 were swept away to their deaths while many others were injured and traumatised. Some villages and resorts have had to be completely rebuilt, some places have been abandoned and the government has encouraged people (though with only limited success) to move further inland, away from danger. I've been reading a dissertation Titmeia wrote (it's been published) bringing together the story of Noah's flood with theological reflection on the Tsunami. He includes some harrowing accounts of the night and its aftermath. 

 

In the West we tend to assume that the world is under our control. Here in Oceania, everyone is aware that we don't control our environment; the world is beautiful but fragile and unpredictable. The unpredictability has always been there and everyone accepts it. What is much more difficult to accept is the way that humanity has so carelessly abused the planet that life gets more difficult for islanders by the year. Sea levels rise so that areas become less and less habitable. The sea temperature rises (particularly in this, an El Niño year), coral reefs start to die off and fish stocks begin to disappear from the accessible inshore waters. Weather patterns become more inconsistent and so crops are harder to grow. No wonder ther are now more Samoans overseas than on the islands - often dismissed as 'economic migrants' in the countries they move to.  Mosese, the Principal, is quite vehement about what is happening, and rightly so. If nothing else, this trio has brought home the reality and the cost of climate change. It's too late to stop it happening, but we have to look for ways of limiting its extent and helping those who are its victims. And, of course, it's chastening to realise that we're all - myself included - responsible. 

A View from the Boundary

Arrived back at campus this afternoon to find a game of Samoan cricket in full swing. I'd read about it so was delighted to don my Panama hat and take one of the chairs on the boundary.

  This is a very different game to the one played at Lords. For a start, the number of players seems to be flexible and can - apparently .- be anything up to 20. Then there's the bats. They look like a cross between a baseball bat and a traditional Polynesian war club - a three-sided block of wood designed for hitting the living daylights out of a ball. There are traditional wickets, but bowling is a ball from one end followed by a ball from another. Batting is vigorous rather than subtle - not much sign of a Geoffrey Boycott forward defensive push here. What you see here is a game between the Reds and the greens - as shown by their lava lavas. It was played with great seriousness, with scorers announcing each run by megaphone. No fours or sixes; you only get 1 for crossing the boundary and 2 if you sail over it. Hit the accommodation block and you're out, apparently! The team waiting to bat kept up their spirits with rhythmic chanting.  Couldn't really follow what was going on, but at the end it seemed that the greens had won the Piula cricket shield. 

I wonder what the TMS team would make of it? 

 

Here comes the sun, da da da da .....

Actually, it's gone again now - replaced by pouring rain - but for a day and a half we had tropical sunshine, and even a couple of sunsets. Monday I wss taken on a field trip to Manono, a small island between the two main ones in the archipelago. There was Titimeio, my host in the aiga - extended family - Toulei, a native of the island and Losaline, the Tongan teacher who's here from Sia'atoutai on the Pacific Methodist exchange scheme. Depressingly, she only started Queen Salote college the year after Diane and I left. She's been bringing me up to date on the Tongan gossip.  We left the rest of the college sorting out the mess left by cyclone Amos. As we drove along we could the remains of trees that had been cleared away and some banana plantations flattened, but little damage to buildings, fortunately. 

Manono is a 20 minute boat ride from the end of this island, with Aluminium catamarans powered by 40 hp Toyota outboards the standard inter-island transport. Once on the island we were taken to Toulei's family Fale fono , the main meeting house for the village. Morning tea consisted of cans of orangade and plates of Pringles. Then It was off on a two- hour circumnavigation of the island. Manono has no cars (no dogs and - so it's claimed - no mosquitos either) but there's a footpath round the island linking the villages. There's a total population of about 800, with 2 Methodist, 3 LMS and 1 Catholic Churches. One or two simple holiday resorts. - it would be a great place to get away from it all. This has been a pivotal place in Samoan history. At one time the centre for warfare, but then the base for LMS and Methodist missionaries. Several of them are buried here. The walk in the mid-day heat was pretty tiring, so conversation was a lot quieter on the way home. We did stop for some excellent ice cream as we came through Apia.

  

This week there's also been teaching - a 2 hour session on Wesley's doctrine of Christian perfection on Tuesday and a seminar on modern trinitarian theology yesterday. The last was quite a challenge. For some reason they have a syllabus that requires them to look at a number of German theologians - a tough proposition, even for Germans! Students have starting sidling up to, asking for help in projects they are doing. Sometimes I can help, sometimes I have to send them off to find a genuine subject specialist - 'no, I can't help you with your essay on Nehemiah, that's what Old Tstament lecturers are for'. We have a Fijian educational consultant at the college this week, here to help the staff with learning outcomes, assessment criteria, etc - all the parephenalia of contemporary academia. 

Amos comes and goes

I'm sitting on the porch of my little house and - believe it or not - the sun in shining! It's very warm, humid and calm. And the scene looks different from yesterday in other ways, too. last night we had a visitation - we were on the edge of cyclone Amos' path through the islands. The usually immaculate grounds of Piula look distinctly bedraggled: palm fronds all over the place, branches, a few trees. And most buildings have been partly boarded up. As the wind speed started to ratchet up last night, the principal (whose task I didn't't envy) directed a group of students to nail roofing iron or ply wood against the most vulnerable Windows. Mine were done between 11 and midnight as I lay in bed. I was anxious that the boys might be caught outside with debris blowing around, but they retired to safety. For a few hours the wind howled and screamed but when I woke at 4.00 all was calm again. The power's been off since 11 last night - which is to be expected.it would be good to have it restored soon - especially for the fridge. This post going live will be a signal that the power is back on. Everyone is astonished that we've had a cyclone so late in April. It brings home the fact that while climate change may hardly be noticeable in Belfast, here in the Pacific it's having all kinds of effects. 

I was preaching at the 8.00 am college service this morning and, yes, in spite of an interrupted and rather scary night, everyone was there in their best white  outfits. No power meant no keyboard, but the singing was full-on and very disciplined. The service  was followed by a very formal brunch with the staff - once again, more food than I can cope with. No repeat of yesterday's toasted sandwiches with tinned spaghetti and spam - for which I was grateful. 

Before the 3.00pm service (they just keep coming - rather like the meals here) I went down to the beautiful cave pool to cool off. You can s win about 20 metres into the cave, right underneath the chapel. The water is clear and deep with a shoal of fishes. You then reach a solid wall, but I'm told you can dive under it to come out at another pool a little further along. So far I've not felt a need to try that! 

I was due to give lectures tomorrow on the church in the Middle Ages (no, I'm not sure why, either) but the principal has declared Monday a clean up the college day, so no teaching till Tuesday. 

In other news, I am sharing my house with a number of fellow-creatures- it's inevitable in the tropics. The wooden parts of the house have little piles of sawdust, which indicate some unseen burrowing and chewing. Anything edible left out for more than a minute or two attracts thousands of tiny ants - something you have to get used to. Gecko lizards dart about the walls - welcome residents who help to keep the mosquitos down. However, I do draw the line at cohabiting with a bunch of marauding, 3 inch cockroaches, so when I was in town the other day I got hold of a pack of cockroach baits and scattered them about the house. They seem to be doing the business, which means that I now have to dispose of the corpses. 

Update: the power came on At 5.00 but not the college wifi, so I guess this post will have to wait till tomorrow morning when someone resets it. Worse news is that the college cattle farm, which is a little way in land, has been badly damaged by Amos, so most students will have to work there tomorrow. I'm being taken to a small island. - Samoa's answer to Viwa - where the early missionaries had their base. I'll hope to get this off before I go. 

O God, thou bottomless abyss!

Harsh critics of this blog might point out that, although it's called 'Theologian on the move', there's a lot more travelogue than theolog about it. Perhaps it's time to remedy that. 

It was 5.15 am in the coffee bar of Nausori airport. Winston Halapua suddenly asked my why I thought John Wesley had a written a hymn beginning with the line, 'O God, thou bottomless abyss'. It was a typical Winston question - four years ago he quizzed me about the Cappadocian Fathers during 

our early morning walK around Suva. Winston has written about moana - a Polynesian word for the ocean - as a way of understanding how God, the world and humanity are connected. He likes to point out that for islanders the ocean isn't so much the barrier that seperates us from one another as the thing that connects us to each other. Remember my blog about John Hunt on Viwa? He was there because he could get quickly out to sea to visit mission stations on other islands. 

Three days later I'm very conscious of the ocean; the muted roar of its waves have become a reassuring background to the day. The Pacific stretches beyond the horizon, and on for thousands of miles. And, of course, it's deep. Not quite bottomless, perhaps, but  with trenches that could swallow Everest without any bother. 

It turns out that Wesley's hymn was actually a translation from the German (the original is by Ernst Lange, a pietist) and first published in 1737 as part of a collection in Georgia during Wesley's unsuccessful missionary service in America. I  wonder if it was introduced to Wesley by the Moravians he encountered on his rough crossing of the Atlantic. Famously, these pietist Christians sang and prayed with confidence while the rest of the ship's company was in panic,  so Wesley may have been picking up a (for him) new way of understanding God through the experience of a safely-completed voyage. Here's how it begins:

O God, thou bottomless abyss,

Thee to perfection who can know?

O height immense, what words suffice

Thy countless attributes to show?

Unfathomable depths thou art

I plunge me in thy mercy's sea

Void of true wisdom is my heart

With love embrace and cover me

(Full text: http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/hymnlyrics2/pdf/o_god,_thou_bottomless_abyss-ernst_lange.pdf)

The hymn goes on to use the metaphor of the ocean to explore the immensity, power and unknowability of God, as well as God's benevolent provision and all-encompassing love. 

It's an interesting contrast to the way the sea is often depicted in the Bible. The people of Israel were landlubbers, and tended to see the sea as a threatening, chaotic force always in danger of overwhelming the order of creation. Noah's flood, Jonah in the fish's belly and so on. But in a context - like the Pacific islands - where the ocean is the ever-present reality and the source of so much provision - the sea can be seen in a more positive light. I'm reminded that sometimes we can only do justice to the' big picture' message of the Bible by using different language, or using language differently. It's what we call contextual hermeneutics in the trade.

So 'Oh God, thou bottomless abyss' is a thought that keeps coming  to mind in my temporary home by the shore. But today there's a reminder that the ocean can't be taken for granted. It has forces beyond our control. A new cyclone (Amos - the alphabet has started again after Zena) is bearing down on us. Already the intense rain is pouring down (forcing the cancellation of the Women's fellowship BBQ) and there's a warning of strong winds and tidal surges to come. And that, too, gives theologians pause for thought.

So this is Samoa!

2 1/2 hours after leaving cloudy and soggy Fiji I arrive in - cloudy and soggy - Samoa. The runway is right by the sea and you pass over the reef and shallow waters before touching down. Walking into the terminal building, surrounded by colourful plants, you immediately notice something different. Samoa looks as if it has won the 'best kept Pacific island' title for years on end, and has no intention of giving up the title in a hurry. If Fiji can err on the side of messy, Samoa has a touch of the obsessively tidy about it. Anything to do with the fact that it was once a German colony, I wonder? Villages, with their mixture of open sided traditional fales and more modern houses, are beautifully neat, with flowering shrubs and short grass around them. Piula Theological College, where I am staying, exemplifies this. You could hardly imagine a more idyllic setting, right by the seashore, with the backdrop of green mountains. A cave under the White-painted church opens into a deep, crystal-clear fresh-water pool, only a few feet from the sea. It's beautiful, but the students and their wives (only married men can be Methodist ministers in Samoa) pay a high price to keep it that way. Their day begins with prayers at 5.30 am followed by work on the college grounds until classes begin at 8. On Friday afternoons and Saturdays they are expected to work on the college plantation, where their food is grown. and on Sunday's, of course, they spend most of the day in church. 

There was a service soon after I arrived. Iwas astonished to see everyone - men, women and children, attending in white outfits, with the women wearing long white dresses and matching hats. This is the way they've done things for generations, and Samoa is an intensely traditional place. It makes Tonga look decidedly sloppy - and Edgehill, I'm afraid, pretty casual. Students can only leave the campus with permission of the staff. Those who are still single (and therefore have pressure building on them) live in one open-plan dormitory. 

I don't want to give the impression that this is a backwater of theological education. Mosese, the principal, is young, highly qualified (well, he and I both have PhDs from Birmingham) and a very sharp thinker. He's well aware of the issues that connect Piula with the wider educational world and of the need to balance tradition with change. There are impressive buildings and good facilities. An interesting aspect of the community is that many of them come from the Samoan diaspora in New Zealand, Australia and the US, so they've known a very different lifestyle and tend to speak excellent English. They also bring a host of skills. Yesterday, at 6.05 am a student who.'d been an electrician in Auckland arrived to fix the light in my bedroom.

I'm staying in a roomy, if somewhat delapitated, guest bungalow. I can see - and hear - the ocean from my bedroom. waking up my first thought is 'there goes a train'; then I remember where I am and realise that it's the sound of surf breaking on the reef. 

I was taken to Apia yesterday, to do some shopping. It's about 40 minutes along bumpy roads. The famous Aggie Grey's hotel is now refurbished as a Sheraton Inn and there are many new buildings - commercial and government, it seems a much more prosperous place than Tonga. I've been assigned to one of the tutorial families in the college. This means that at .7 each morning one of the students brings me a tray of breakfast and that each evening I am to be hosted by one of the couples. It feels slightly embarrassing but hospitality is taken very seriously here. 

And still the rain goes on! I've never known such an intense rainy season in the Pacific - something to do with El Niño, apparently.   

So that was Fiji

I have a soft spot for Fiji. It's not a tropical paradise: prone to natural disasters, struggling to develop a stable democratic government, often seemingly chaotic and messy. But somehow it works - a melange of cultures, languages and religions combining to create a sense of energy and hope. I wonder if I'll ever visit it again - I hope so. 

Some highlights from my final days there:

A week spent mostly at the Pacific Theological College, an ecumenical, regional institute sitting by the seashore at the tip of the Suva peninsula. It's  no longer in its heyday - national and denominational colleges have been catching up with it, but it does bring students together from around the Pacific and staff from all over the world. Two days of a Methodist theological forum followed by teaching and conversation. My thanks to Val Ogden for facilitating much of this. Worship on Friday morning was especially enjoyable: a communion service in English led by a German Lutheran and with a formal, Samoan approach to receiving communion. 

Butt Street Wesley Mission. I attended services there on both Sunday's - they use English. The first service was led by a Local preacher - one Sitiveni Rabuka who, as Brigadier Rabuka, led the 1987 coup that sent Fiji into years of constitutional limbo. He's rather chastened now. The following Sunday there was a baptism conducted by our old friend Aquila Yabaki - one of Diane's former colleagues and since his return to Fiji a hero of the movement for constitutional change. There's something constructive about these former enemies being part of the same church. I had coffee with Aquila after the service, caching up on each other's families and friends. The Methodist Church does have some excellent young leadership and you hope they have the opportunity to move things along. 

Coffee and meals out with Winston and Sue. Coffee by the pool of the Grand Pacific Hotel, now restored to its former glory by a business consortium from Papua New Guinea. Two very good meals out. one at an Indian restaurant in downtown Suva, the other in the shabby chic surroundings of the Royal Suva Yacht Club. This could be the setting for a Somerset Maughan short story. Part of the rambling and ramshackle seafront building has been turned into a restaurant ( please mention us on Trip Advisor said the waitress when I praised the chargrilled tuna with spicy rice) while the rest is a reminder of a different age. A glass cabinet is stuffed with silver trophies for yacht races (I wonder: do they still race for them?). A notice board gives the names of the commodore, rear commodore and committee alongside tattered adverts for boats of various sizes. A battered pool table sits in the middle of the floor. As we ate a bright orange lifeboat came alongside and unloaded sackful so of fish. I loved it! 

Winston and Sue kindly drove me to the tiny Nausori airport early on Monday morning. We said our farewells in coffee bar - more fun than Heathrow. 

Pilgrimage to Viwa

TS Eliot has a line in his poem, Little Gidding: 'You are here to kneel where prayer has been valid'. That could sum up a visit to the  tiny island of Viwa, just off the coast of Viti Levu and close to the chiefly island of Bau. It's where two of the great missionaries to Fiji are buried. Joeli Bulu was a Tongan who, in the 1830s, became a missionary to the people who had been his people's traditional enemy. He once answered the question 'why do you pray to the Christian God' with 'so that I may live among the stars'. John Hunt was an English farm labourer (from the village next to the one where I grew up) who trained as a Methodist minister and was one of the first students in a Methodist theological college. He died on Viwa in 1848, aged 36, having translated the New Testament, begun a training centre for indigenous missionaries and written a book on sanctification.

My visit began at Davuilevu, the Methodist theological college, where a student, Pa'u, joined me as guide. Pa'u is from Bau and the chiefly family, so he knows the protocol. Our taxi took us to Nausori market where we bought a bundle of kava root to present as a ceremonial gift, then on to the Bau landing stage. Our boat was about 18-20ft, made of battered fibreglass and powered by a 40hp outboard. The forecast had been for strong winds and the open sea was pretty rough, with choppy waves and some white water. Spray came over us and I was was lent a tarpaulin for protection. Under skilled hands, the boat slid around the waves and slowly moved across the gap between the islands. I kept telling myself that the boatman knew his business and wouldn't be risking his life for just a few dollars! We landed in calmer waters on the leeward side of Viwa, a mere speck in the ocean, mostly bounded by mangrove swamp and with just one tiny settlement. Electricity has arrived in the last year. Here, the missionaries set up their printing press and Hunt had his headquarters, within sight of the (then) pagan chief Cacobau. We walked up the path  between the houses, with their neat gardens and blue corrugated roofs. At the top of the small hill stands the church, a simple A-frame. Behind it are the graves, some with iron railings sent over from England in the Victorian era. It was a peaceful and prayerful place, apart from the noisy bustle of modern Fiji, but with a sense of holy concern. Here, Hunt had turned to Bau, praying for its chief, for an end to the cannibal wars and for the conversion of Fiji.


We moved on to the minister's house, on the same site as Hunt's, and had 'morning tea' after Pa'u presented the kava to a representative of the chief. No kava drinking (for which I was thankful) as the island has a 'tapu' for a period and kava is replaced with prayer and fasting. That might well have been the end of the visit, but a mobile call to Pa'u (yes, even here, everyone has a mobile!) told us to stay put and wait for another boat load of visitors They (visitors from the Uniting church, Australia) arrived 2 1/2 hours later and we did the tour again before heading home in the same boat. We called on the prayer house the other side of the island - the spot where Hunt prayed for his enemies and admired the chapel that is meant to be the focus of a projected retreat centre. I had declined the suggestion that I spend the night in the chapel so that my prayer might lead to an encounter with Hunt!

The outing ended back at Davuilevu with a faikava and talanoa (conversation).

Colleges, Colonialism and Shopping

http://www.governorsfiji.com/about.html

I took Sue, my hostess, out to lunch. 

Governors - use the link above for its website - embodies the contradictions and  charm of Fiji today. It describes itself as a museum-themed restaurant. Housed in an old colonial building, its walls are covered in memorabilia from the days when Fiji was an outpost of empire. A photo of the first plane to land in Suva (1928), the cover of volume 1 (1930) of Pacific Islands Monthly (announcing that wireless communication was going to transform life), posters of films with a Pacific theme, and so on. The service is immaculate, the menu eclectic and (for here) expensive. Sue and I were led to a table next to the one occupied by the deputy prime-minister and his entourage - almost as if the present rulers of Fiji were having the last laugh. Outside the rain poured down on the lush gardens. 

I've also had a series of rather different encounters. 

Coffee with Val Ogden at the Holiday Inn ( a bit ordinary compared with Governors!). Val's a mission partner and British minister, leading the theological education by extension unit at the Pacific Theological College. I've known Val on and off for years - she used to do sessions for my WEMTC students when she taught at Selly Oak, Birmingham. She's very outgoing (which makes an introvert like me jealous) and has been really helpful in setting up some contacts for my visit here. Val also hosted a meal Friday evening at her home at PTC, giving me the chance to meet some of the staff - very much an international crowd and a stimulating conversation. Challenges in theological education have similar themes right across the globe. Late in the evening the rain stopped and one of the lecturers helped me get a taxi - walking is fine during the day but not advisable late at night. 

Coffee (I'm re-developing my taste for iced coffee) with Julia Edwards. another mission partner from Britain, Julia works for the Pacific Conference of Churches and is an expert on climate change. Her partiuclar concern at the moment is the need to relocate people from the most vulnerable situations in Pacific island countries. For many people it's already too late to reverse global warming and the rise in sea levels. They will have to be found new homes - with all the issues around social dislocation that goes along with that. 

A visit to ECREA - the ecumenical research and social action institution for Fiji. It's director, Sirino Rikabi, took me through their programmes. What's impressive is that it puts into practice so much of what we talk about as theological reflection. Working with local communities - through the churches coming together - they help people analyse the issues they face and provide biblical and theological input to help them work on appropriate action. It's in its early days, but I felt it was being promoted with a combination of expertise, humility and realism. 

A visit to Davuilevu. The Methodist theological college is out of town, not far from the domestic airport. A large hilly estate, it has space for students to grow their own food. I was to have given a talk to the students, but the flood situation stopped that and I went later in the day for tea with some of the faculty - as shown in the photo in my last post. As well as the Principal, Anil, and the Church History lecturer, Susu, There was an American couple, Wesley and Jerusha Neal, who helped us share some of our mutual concerns about church, ministry and theological education. When I mentioned my interest in Joh Hunt, the pioneer missionary to Fiji, the conversation got even more animated. The local staff promised to help me visit Viwa island, where Hunt is buried, 

Which brought me to Saturday. Some preparation (I have a number of presentations to make next week) and then a wander round the Suva shops, mingling with the good-natured, multi-cultural crowd. Even here, though, recent problems aren't far away. The fruit and veg in the market is hugely expensive at the moment because of all the damage the cyclone has done to the crops. I couldn't resist buying a bula shirt - though not the most garish in the shop - and at the Methodist Church Bookstore discovered that they were still selling the 1933 Book of Offices of the British Methodist Church. 

A pack of live crabs. 

A well-stocked stall at the market.

Crowded street

Dodging a bullet

It's difficult to believe that I've been in Suva nearly four days - eventful days, but not in the way I expected. The good news is that cyclone Zena, which suddenly developed as a category 3 storm on Wednesday, went slightly to the south of its predicted course and so we were spared its damaging winds. People were sent home from work Wednesday afternoon and a curfew was imposed from 6pm. Waking up during the night (a combination of jet lag, anxiety and the sound of rain on an iron roof) I kept checking the bulletins from the met office. By 3.00 am I knew we were safe. Around 8.00 the curfew was lifted, but schools and colleges remained closed because there was so much flooding around the country. Fiji is still in a state of emergency following cyclone Winston 6 weeks ago and this only makes the task of recovery more difficult. You can only marvel at the resilience of people. Intense rain showers are still with us, but the flood levels On major rivers are going down. 

Suva itself is a sprawling city, occupying a peninsular that sits between Suva harbour and Laucala Bay. Capital city and regional centre, you can find relics of the colonial past (from the splendour of the Grand Pacific Hotel to crumbling timber-framed houses) alongside new hotels and shopping centres, apartment blocks, bungalows, squatters' shacks. Nearly 40 years ago, in January 1979, I arrived here for the first time, en route to spending three yeaars teaching in Tonga. I didn't know what had hit me! I was overwhelmed by the heat and sights and sounds and smells, especially when Sue Halapua took me to the indoor market By the wharf. I couldn't imagine getting used to living in an environment like this. It feels very different now. This morning I had my early walk along the sea front, the harbour full of large foreign fishing boats and cargo ships. It feels genuinely good to be back, though. I hugely admire those who deal with the challenges of life here year on Year.  I saw flying foxes heading for their roostS and Falcons carving up the air. In the market I bought pawpaw for breakfast. 

The extreme weather has meant changes to my programme. Tuesday I was able to meet James Bhagwan, communications officer for the Methodist Church. With a background in broadcasting, James uses his many talents in the service of the Church. He's been coordinating the response to the recent cyclone and it's clear that this is going to take the energy and resources of the church for some time to come. Homes, businesses, churches and schools all need rebuilding. James is also involved in the ambitious development programme for the church - a 'new Exodus' as they are calling it. The church has gone through difficult times here since the first coup in the 80s but its present leadership has a very positive outlook. James arranged for me to have lunch with the president of the church, Tevita Banivanua, who I'd last met in London, and he shared his vision for a church that is trying to move forward. 

The photo below is from my visit to the Methodist Theological College of Davuilevu. More of that in my next post. 

With some of the faculty of Davuilevu Theological College (Dr Jerusha Neal, Principal Anil Reuben and Rev Ilimeleki Susu) with portraits of paramount chief Cacobau and missionary John Hunt. 

RAiN!

Greetings from Fiji - not quite a tropical paradise at the moment

http://www.fijitimes.com/images/artpics/348418.jpg
This link takes you to a picture of homeless families washed out from their temporary shelter.m

RAIN! As the Boeing 737 made its final approach to Nadi and emerged from the cloud cover we could see the brown floodwaters around the town and the swollen rivers spreading out across the fields. Tropical downpours can be devastating. I didn't realise how serious this was at first. I was so relieved to be out of a plane after about 24 hours in the air- and so impressed that my suitcase, last seen in Heathrow, appeared first on the carousel - that I dashed out of the terminal building in search of the bus stop. I'd decided on the adventure of the bus from Nadi, round the perimeter of the island of Viti Levu, to Suva, Fiji's capital. I'd save the Methodist Church a few pounds and have a few hours sightseeing. I struck my best 'Englishman abroad' pose and waited. And waited. I asked a passing airport worker if this was the right place for the Suva bus? Oh yes, this is the place. Of course (and this breaks one of the most important rules of life in the Pacific islands) I had asked the wrong question. Some minutes later the same worker came by again, and took pity on me. Yes, this was the right place for the Suva bus, but no (in response to the question I should have asked) there were no buses today; floods had damaged bridges and made the road to Suva impassable. The only way across the island was by air. So back into the airport. Yes, there was a flight to Suva in an hour or so, but it was fully booked. There were plenty of others in the same predicament and things started to get a bit chaotic. But - and this happens so often here - a thread of kindness developed and thanks to the care of Fiji Air staff I found myself boarding the little plane when it eventually arrived through the deluge. Passengers made a dash across the rain-soaked tarmac like WW2 fighter pilots who'd been ordered to scramble, I tried to put out of my mind just how little visibility our pilot would have as he hopped over the mountains to the other side of the island. I needn't have worried - We touched down safely. A nice touch was the wheelie-bin full of umbrellas as we left the safety of the aircraft. A shared taxi took me the 12 miles to Suva and the welcome sight of the bishop's house with Sue and Winston Halapua greeting me as they have so many times before.
RAIN. If you've read Somerset Maughan's short story Rain ( set in Samoa and featuring a missionary and a prostitute - it doesn't end well!) you'll know that rain can go on for days in this part of the world. And so it has. There was a brief respite - in Suva at least- yesterday morning, but then it resumed and intensified. In the interior of the island it has been raining at a steady 10mm per hour for several days. All schools in Fiji have closed today because of floods and dangerous roads. As if that wasn't enough, cyclone Zena is gathering strength out in the Pacific Ocean and is heading in our direction. For me this is simply an inconvenience - trips I was hoping to make will probably not happen - but I am in a safe place and in no danger. For others, it must be both miserable and dangerous. Today's Fiji Times carries stories of people made homeless by Cyclone Winston 6 weeks ago, now sodden in their rain- soaked temporary shelters.

In a way, cyclones and floods are part of the pattern of life and risk here. But there's more to it than that. The cyclones are getting stronger, the floods more extreme. There's evidence that rising sea temperatures caused by climate change are driving this destruction. Not only is 'no man' an island, no island is an island - the whole world is joined together for good and ill. At mid day I'll be taking part in a service in the cathedral where we'll pray for those worst- affected.

On the Move Again!

After four years I'm on my way to the South Pacific once again. Over the next six weeks or so I'll be blogging on Fiji, Samoa, Tonga and Australia. What will I be doing? Well, I know I'll  be doing some teaching, attending meetings, etc. That will be fun. But I also know that the most valuable part of the trip will be what I don't yet know.

So come back to this blog for news on the churches in Oceania, the reconstruction after the Fijian cyclone, theological reflection on travels and meetings - and perhaps some nostalgia, too.