Something I greatly miss in my enforced pandemic-related absence in Australia is the cheery line we used to get at the end of the Fiji radio weather reports: “outlook similar”. This invariably followed a very varied description of that day’s weather and what was to come.
It would include the sun, any amount of rain, sometimes wind speeds, marine and cloud conditions. In fact, it couldn’t be more variable, day in and day out – rain, shine, occasional cyclones but not much in the way of hail. To follow such a report with “outlook similar” would send me into paroxysms of mirth, hooting about what was ‘similar’ when it was so changeable from one minute to the next. That, of course, was the point – weather conditions were invariably greatly variable.
It was sensible to take an umbrella whatever the weather when starting out from home. If it didn’t keep off the rain it could be used as a sunshade. I had a trusty Chinese bamboo and paper monsoon umbrella of a sort I used to be able to buy from a store at the end of Cumming St.
The umbrella ribs were painted a cheerful bus green and the bits between were some kind of paper painted with something that smelled unspeakable. What it was I never found out, although I kept reassuring others in the household that it would disappear with use and rain. It didn’t. Although I had purchased my fi rst paper umbrella in Suva, I chanced upon another in your actual China some years later.
Not being someone to look a gift horse in the mouth and knowing how regularly purchased items could suddenly disappear from the Fiji market, I took advantage of buying one in China. I, therefore, committed myself to drag the large, awkward item literally around the world. It ended up strapped to the outside of my suitcase, which made it easy for me to identify my own luggage, plus nobody wanted to steal anything from a bag identifi ed by a ‘third world’ monsoon umbrella. But lugging that umbrella home was definitely worth it.
While Fiji weather is seemingly variable from one minute to the next, we do have a climate that is often rudely identified as the hot and hotter seasons. Or in the case of Suva, the wet and wetter seasons. In the islands, we spend a lot of time talking about the weather and the climate – most particularly about climate change and the horrific weather patterns that bring.
Just think of TC Winston, if you’re looking for an example. Our leadership has been active internationally on the United Nations arrangements (identified by the usual alphabet soup acronyms) to work on ways to prevent the destruction of the planet through emissions, pollution, plastic and killing trees.
Fiji was right on the mark to contact the incoming United States government following their difficult elections.
Hopefully, this will encourage the USA’s intention to rejoin important pacts, such as the Paris Agreement, and work with the world to overcome these almost overwhelming problems. However, we do come off as somewhat less committed on the local scene. While we advocate strongly for oceans and forests at a global level, it seems we have never met a tree back home that we don’t want to cut down. What I really miss about Fiji (stuck as I am in the dry, hot, rapidly browning Sydney of early summer) is the colourful abundance of tropical growth, from mango and guava trees to frangipani and crotons and hibiscus.
The glorious riot of foliage is not only beautiful, but they help fight back against the effects of climate change, capturing carbon, cleaning our air, sheltering our remaining wildlife; the hardworking giant rain trees, the bold and beautiful baka, the familiar little shrubs from the sandy ocean’s edge and our most valuable mangrove forests.
From this distance, I’m reminded of how spectacular it all is. So please, don’t cut down any more of our trees, at least until I get home (and yes, I heard about the mango tree on upper Knollys St, so let’s call a ceasefire on trees for the rest of the Christmas season, okay?) In the meantime, I’ll bunker down here in Sydney and prepare for the oven-like heat of Christmas in Australia.
Already yesterday it reached 37.9 degrees Celsius in my room and a scorching 40+ further west where some relatives live. But just to keep you guessing (and in no doubt that there’s something weird about the weather these days) today as I write this, it’s almost 20 degrees cooler. I’m sitting here in a cotton gown and Ugg boots.
Truly, I would prefer the familiar Fiji forecast of “outlook similar”.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are the author’s and are not necessarily of this newspaper.
