Living by the Book
Print this Page- By Donna Gessell
- Country: Fiji
- Dates of Service: 1979–1982
Books were scarce in our village, Naqelewai, in Fiji. All material possessions were
scarce because of the village's remote location. Despite the two-day journey involving
dusty bus rides and a muddy Land Rover trek, I brought in five cartons of books,
many of them Peace Corps issues with titles like Small Business Projects for Rural
Villages and Raising Chickens in the Bush. I also tucked in books for comfort, like
The Joy of Cooking, The Tao Te Ching, and War and Peace. Later I picked up junk,
mystery, and romance novels from other Peace Corps Volunteers and from bookstores
in the capital. During my two years in Naqelewai, I read everything I could find,
including Newsweek, furnished by the Peace Corps, and National Geographic, sent by
my parents. National Geographic may seem a strange choice, given my exotic surroundings,
but reading it and piling past issues beside my bed reminded me of my childhood and
home.
Reading, however, is not part of the Fijian culture, historically or currently. Before
Europeans arrived in the last century, Fijian was not a written language. Early missionaries
soon developed English-Fijian dictionaries and translated the Bible into Fijian,
so that now almost every rural Fijian home has a copy of the Bible as well as a Fijian
hymnal. Few other books find space in the clutter-free house. Newspapers brought
in by travelers are read and passed on, then used for a variety of nonliterary purposes,
including stencil designs for decoration under the tin cans that hold house plants,
and as crumpled balls used in place of tissue in outdoor toilets. Few rural Fijians
read for pleasure, other than the occasional letter from family, although elementary
education is almost universal.
Pleasure reading is made difficult because of the lack of electricity. With little
artificial light, people in Naqelewai get up with the sun and do most of their activities
during daylight. After dark, dinner is served by the light of kerosene lanterns.
Conversation follows, sometimes late into the evening, lit by that same dim light.
Despite my investment in a propane lantern, the inevitable eyestrain cut short my
periods of night reading. I sometimes read during the after-lunch rest, but reading
at other times of the day, when everyone else was working, put me at risk of being
thought strange. Wanting to fit in, I tried to limit my appetite for the written
word to leisure time.
Sundays, always a favorite day for me to relax with a good book, was not conducive
to reading. The day was dedicated to visiting—that is, sitting around and talking
for what seemed interminable hours until I finally learned to discuss issues, gossip,
and tell jokes in Fijian. During those visits, I learned invaluable information about
village life that aided my work, but I often found myself longing to be tucked away
with a book.
I enjoyed the intimacy of community discussion, but I missed the intimacy of reading
and identifying with fictional characters. My longing made me question my basic assumptions.
Which was healthier: participating in community talk or solitary reading?
At times my solitary reading habits became occasion for community talk: "There's
Daiana. She always has a book in her hand." In fact, one afternoon when my next-door
neighbor came by and found me reading, she voiced her curiosity. She asked if all
Americans read as much as I did, if Americans ever neglected their household and
family duties to read, and if Americans ever missed work to read a good book. Her
questions reminded me of the list of questions posed to suspected alcoholics.
Indeed, other incidents reaffirmed my suspicions that I was a book junkie. One day
as I was preparing dinner, a friend came by with out-of-town relatives. After the
usual introductions ("Here's our Peace Corps—Daiana"), the woman ventured
to demonstrate just how exotic a specimen a "Peace Corps" was. "Look
at her," she said, pointing out the cookbook lying open at my side. "She
does everything by a book. She even uses one to cook."
Indeed, I began to realize just how much I did "by the book," or "books,"
to be more precise. For instance, if I wanted to work with the village nurse on a
nutrition education project, I consulted the Lik-Lik Book for information from projects
conducted by village development workers in Papua New Guinea. I looked up food information
and recipes in the Fijian Women's Club Kakana Vinaka and Susan Parker's Fijian cookbook.
I consulted food leaflets my Peace Corps Volunteer friend Sikandra Spain was developing
for the South Pacific Commission. I used Peace Corps manuals to get ideas for poster
presentations. And it wasn't just Peace Corps projects that sent me to books. I read
for pleasure, falling asleep and waking up with books.
It is no wonder that, when my house accidentally caught fire, the first items the
Fijians rushed to save were the books. They knew what was important to me. Despite
the almost irreplaceable pieces of Fijian tapa cloth and a war club hanging in the
house, they reached for my books first. They recognized my values even though they
did not share them.
It is ironic that, of all my projects in Naqelewai, the primary school library is
my lasting legacy. When the school was being rebuilt, the headmaster requested a
library. He set aside the space in the building, and I contacted agencies that collect
and distribute new and used books. Ten chests of books arrived, and some fifth and
sixth graders helped sort and process the books. When the new building was finished,
the headmaster declared the library the most important part of the new school, and
he predicted a long future of reading for his students.
About the Author:
Donna Gessell was a community development Volunteer in Naqelewai, Fiji, where she worked with five villages on development projects, and in Suva, Fiji, where she helped train women community leaders from across the Pacific at the Community Education Training Center of the South Pacific Commission. Gessell has a doctorate in English literature from Case Western Reserve University and is a professor of English at North Georgia College & State University.