A day in the life of a dirty city
Mon May 01, 2006 12:19 am
Suva, Fiji’s capital, is our pride, our symbol of civic unity, the city of love and mystery. But it can be treacherous to unsuspecting visitors and even to residents like me. I want to capture one of my experiences in this not very political article.
It’s Friday morning 8am and Suva City is already bustling with workers, some cleaning the streets with their half-broken brooms and some rushing off to their air-conditioned offices dressed in black sulus and neckties. I walked into a Chinese café to have a cup of coffee and the skinny, filthy looking owner tells me, “Sity doun and wai…I willy serve yu”.
A few minutes later I was served by a middle-aged Fijian lady whose blouse was half open and mucus dripping down like waterfall from her nostrils. As soon as she put the cup of coffee down on my table two huge cockroaches jumped from the ceiling, perhaps in their last gasp of orgasm and fell straight into my cup. They drowned, boiled and floated there in a serene and romantic embrace.
I protested verbally and walked out muttering that famous Fijian “m” word, only to be hit at the door by a cigarette butt thrown out by a speeding taxi driver as he zigzaged through the noisy traffic. I then decided to cross the road, and as if by design, fell straight into a huge pothole, almost half a metre in circumference. Some Suva City Council workers who came to bury the hole with…well sand…were standing around smoking and spinning the grog with a small green cup from a dirty yellow bucket, half tainted in coal tar.
I twisted my right ankle and decided to go to hospital but I later decided against it after reading the news headline in the news stand: “Unattended patients die like flies at CWM Hospital.” I decided to play macho and head off to buy some vegetables at the Suva market. I went past a drunkard, a survivor of last night’s pub-crawl, half crawling and staggering like a headless chicken amongst the vendors, spewing vomit all around him. The old woman closest to him wiped her bundle of cabbages with her handkerchief, muttered “it’s only vomit, praise the lord” and continued to solicit customers with her half-manly voice.
After making my round, I came across the same drunkard standing near the mango tree near the market, emptying his bladder. The Chinese vendors in his way ducked for cover as the mini tsunami shot in their direction. I decided that I’ve had enough of the market and headed for the ANZ ATM to draw some money. A beggar pulled my pants as I was in the queue asking for money. I obliged and gave her 50cents, only to be told that it was too small, so I ended up giving her and her little son a two dollar note. At around the same time, heavy rain had made its fury felt and the little boy accidentally dropped the two dollar note and it floated majestically down the drain.
It was time for lunch so I decided to have something light so I decided to go to a nearby curry shop. It was delicious chicken curry but the unseen ingredients later made their presence felt. My stomach growled heavily and a heavy urge went through my inner digestive system like the force of a jet engine. I rushed to the Sukuna Park public convenience only to be told by the attendant that there was no toilet paper. Luckily I had some milk of magnesia tablets and that took care of that moment of desperation.
Evening was approaching fast as I walked along Victoria Parade to visit my favourite watering hole, Traps. Two Chinese prostitutes approached me broadcasting their price in whispers, “Only one hundlet tolla one awa”. “Too expensive”, I said and continued walking. Three shoeshine boys darted through the crowd, apparently running away from chasing cops.
The pub was exciting, the music loud and lively and people mingled with glee in the smoky and gloomy atmosphere. A couple of politicians sat at the dark corner surrounded by admiring girls. One still had his sulu and necktie loosened and eyes crossed and pale like a half-dead turtle. A girl had his hand in his pocket fiddling with something. Two senior civil servants sat behind me, also with their newly picked up female partners, caressing and kissing.
Suddenly two burly looking women entered the door, swearing and one even slapped a girl caressing her civil servant partner. There was a commotion, a million swear words flew. It was battle over territory, over ownership, a typical Suva phenomenon. It was a good way to finish another day in dirty but exciting Suva.
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