If Fiji had a national creature that refuses extinction it wouldn’t be the crested iguana; it would be the Jhakk Driver. In Fiji Hindi, a “jhakk” driver is anyone who drives recklessly, shows off unnecessarily, and behaves as if the nation’s roads exist solely for their amusement. This phenomenon is not limited to flashy Subarus or Corollas; it encompasses SUVs, cars, buses, vans, and even minivans. From Labasa’s winding backroads to Suva’s bustling streets, these drivers are everywhere, transforming ordinary travel into a spectator sport. With sunglasses perched like ceremonial crowns, biceps flexed, or hands gripping the steering wheel as if conducting an orchestra, they treat ignition not as starting a car, but as initiating a grand performance. Once the key turns, the ordinary becomes extraordinary: the driver believes they are auditioning for Fast and Furious: Fiji Drift, and everyone else on the road is merely an extra in their chaotic film.
The sacred art of making noise for no reason
NOISE is the hallmark of Jhakk drivers, whether in a tiny hatchback or a 60-seater bus. Exhausts roar like jet engines, horns blare like orchestral percussion, and subwoofers in SUVs threaten structural integrity. Even buses, intended as safe public transport, become mobile concerts of ego, when the driver decides to rev or race through traffic. Across Fiji, from Nausori to Savusavu, no neighbourhood is safe from unsolicited decibel levels. Horns punctuate conversations, brake squeals punctuate reality, and revving engines are considered high art. The louder the vehicle, the higher the perceived status. In fact, some drivers treat revving as a spiritual ritual: the more chaotic the sound, the closer they feel to vehicular enlightenment. And whether it’s a minivan, a flashy hatch, or a bus carrying thirty terrified passengers, the principle is the same: make noise, be seen, and hope karma sleeps tonight.
Fashion and philosophy: Tight jeans, loose logic
Moreover, Jhakkness transcends the type of vehicle; it is a lifestyle, a philosophy, and sometimes, a cautionary tale. Bus drivers wear reflective vests as if strutting down a runway, SUV drivers flaunt chrome rims and oversized spoilers, and minivan drivers accessorise with dangling keychains and neon interiors that could guide aircraft. Meanwhile, personal style remains overconfident: tight shirts, sunglasses at night, and gold chains long enough to double as minor safety hazards. Their vehicles mirror this philosophy: flashy, impractical, and loud. Seat covers, stickers boldly declaring “No Fear,” and interior LED lights are universal trademarks of Jhakk culture. Every driver, from minibus to sports car, believes that visibility and volume equal legendary status. Logic, practicality, and common sense are politely ignored in the name of performance art.
Road rules are merely suggestions
Additionally, across Fiji, Jhakk drivers of all types treat traffic laws as polite suggestions rather than obligations. SUVs overtake on blind bends, buses ignore double lines, and minivans claim intersections as personal property. Indicators are a myth, stop signs are merely decorative, and speed limits are considered optional. Even public service vehicles, meant to ferry people safely, transform into personal drag strips when ego demands it.
Land Transport Authority (LTA) officers are temporary threats; once out of sight, it’s full acceleration ahead. The universal philosophy is simple: if you can overtake it, you own it, whether you’re in a flashy hatchback or a full-size bus.
And should anyone dare to complain, Jhakk drivers have perfected the art of the unapologetic smirk, which in Fiji translates roughly to: “You are officially irrelevant.”
When Jhakk meets physics: The science of showing off
Consequently, the laws of physics bend around Jhakk ideology. Wet roads? Perfect for drifting SUVs. Bumpy backroads? Ideal for bus wheelies. Oil changes? Optional. Brakes squealing? That’s music. Tyres threadbare? Fashion statement. In essence, the car, bus, or minivan is held together by duct tape, hope, and borrowed spanners.
Every journey is a suspense thriller: will the brake hold, will the engine survive, will the driver make it through the next junction? And yet, the drivers believe in their invincibility. Across Fiji, every vehicle type contributes to the collective suspense of survival: one never knows whether the next roundabout will be a dramatic spectacle or a headline in the evening news.
The national cost: Jhakkness and the rising crash culture
While humorous, the reality is grim. According to the Land Transport Authority, as of October 2025, Fiji has recorded 54 road fatalities, up from 42 during the same period last year. Notably, speeding remains the leading cause, followed by careless driving and improper overtaking.
Earlier in the year, the Fiji Police reported 13 serious accidents in the first two weeks of January 2025, 11 of which were caused by speeding and driver fatigue. Consequently, it doesn’t matter whether the vehicle is a flashy car, SUV, bus, or minivan, Jhakk behaviour increases risk for everyone. Each reckless overtake, each blaring rev, contributes to the rising number of accidents, turning Fiji’s roads into unpredictable danger zones.
In short, every corner, every intersection becomes a test of patience, reflexes, and sometimes, pure luck. And yet, despite these sobering numbers, the spectacle continues unabated, as if statistics themselves are mere suggestions.
LTA vs Jhakk: The never-ending battle
Meanwhile, the Land Transport Authority and Fiji Police wage a seemingly endless war against reckless driving, yet the Jhakk community adapts faster than regulations. Modified exhausts claim to be “airflow enhancers,” neon lights are rebranded as “safety illumination,” and bus drivers find creative ways to bend passenger safety rules. Enforcement campaigns exist, but each crackdown produces more ingenuity.
Cat-and-mouse is a fair description: the cat (LTA) waits with a clipboard, while the mouse (Jhakk driver) accelerates with multiple passengers, blaring bass, and flashing lights. The scale or type of vehicle does not matter; the chaotic style transcends all. In Fiji, the battle is less about compliance and more about creativity, bravado, and the eternal quest to impress, annoy, or occasionally terrorise fellow road users.
Long live the Jhakk (but drive safer, please)
Finally, Jhakk drivers are far more than a nuisance; they are a cultural phenomenon spanning cars, SUVs, buses, and vans. They make Fiji louder, funnier, and sometimes deadlier. Every rev, every risky overtake, and every accident is a reminder that showing off can be tragically expensive in human terms. We laugh at them, we rant about them, yet statistics confirm that the danger is real.
Therefore, dear Jhakk drivers, a humble request: slow down. Your family doesn’t love your exhaust; they love that you make it home alive. Your passengers are not cheering your stunts; they are silently praying. And for the rest of Fiji, when the midnight VROOOM shakes your window, remember: another Jhakk is born, another story for the road, and another reminder of life’s absurd fragility. In short, drive like a legend, but survive like a human.
