Not too long ago, my first cousin in Sydney rang to relay a truly heart-warming message. A book had been written about her dad, the late Reverend Ramsey Deoki who was an older brother of my dad, Andrew and she was sending me a copy. When it arrived, I dropped everything I was doing and began reading Victory In The Constant Struggle — The Life & Times of Rev. Ramsey Ram Narayan Deoki by Reverend RJ Miller.
The peek into our past opened up a vista of fascinating stories that had me glued to the book. It felt like I was watching a full length feature film of our family history! I was mesmerised discovering a rich tapestry of chronicles I knew nothing about. And I didn’t want it to end. Although I remembered my Uncle Ramsey to be a mighty man of God his wife, my Aunt Grace Deoki, was an equally amazing woman of God. Her decades of tireless social and charitable work not only placed her among some of the most influential figures of philanthropic pursuits in the country but it also earned her an OBE from Her Majesty the Queen.
On May 3, 1889, after nearly two months on the high seas, the ship Moy arrived in Fijian waters carrying the first indentured labourers in our family; my great-grandfather Buddhu Deoki, my great-grandmother Dukhiti and my grandfather Nandan Sen Deoki who was only 9 years-old at the time. While very little is mentioned about their journey from the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean to India on the first leg of their journey to Fiji, I can only begin to imagine what it would’ve been like to travel vast distances in the sailing ships of the 1800s. How on earth did they do it, coming from a tiny island nation in the azure waters of the Indian Ocean to India, then onto the Fijian Islands?
As I continued my journey through the book a burning question kept nagging me. What on earth was my great-grandfather doing in Mauritius? How on earth did he get there and why?
And then I discovered what might be the answer. Legend has it that he most probably was a rebel in the mutiny against the British Raj in India. Taking up arms against the British was a serious offence most probably punishable by death. Fleeing to Mauritius was most likely his only chance of survival from the long arm of the law. His passionate stand against the Colonial power must’ve been a last resort because he would’ve had to have left behind his village and close-knit family. And we know how much community and village life means to people living a subsistence existence. What strikes me as even more amazing is that this colourful fugitive must’ve had loads of “nerve” to travel back to India then somehow board another ship headed for an unknown destination called Feejee. He would’ve had no clue where Fiji was. All it would seem he wanted to do was to put as much distance between himself and the British Raj as he possibly could because of his revolt against the invading forces occupying his country.
As I began researching sections of the book about our heritage, I realised that the paternal side of our family was most probably from the Dusadh and Paswan caste of people. The Dusadh’s were a pastoral people yet many were also known to have fought for the East India Company in the 18th Century. They were known for their valour and courage even though they were one of the most stigmatised communities in the chronically corrupt caste system of early India. And it came as no surprise that one of my great-grandfather’s descendants would not only find his way into an elite fighting unit but would also become a captain in the SAS. As I think back to my early years growing up in Fiji when we were in our teens, and without knowing why at the time, I realised that both my brother and I had a deep yearning to join the Royal Fiji Military Forces. However, in the late 1960s things were different under Colonial rule and they probably had some kind of a moratorium on the number of Indo-Fijians joining the force. So, much to our disappointment, we never got a look in.
Upon arriving in Fiji my forebears were taken to the Tamavua Estate of the Fiji Sugar Company Ltd in Navua where many people of Nepali origin were also housed. Toiling in the sugarcane fields from dawn till dusk and living in atrocious conditions, they pined for the friendships and families they had left behind. They were foreigners in a foreign country beginning a journey of savage servitude. When I was little boy growing up in my grandmother’s home in Toorak, she would often tell me stories about how they survived the beatings and oppressive conditions of indenture. Having to clear thick vegetation with only a cane knife and the very basic of farm implements, they toiled like Trojans preparing the land for planting sugar cane.
Even though I was intrigued, I would sit there feeling the pain and sorrow of the countless injustices they had suffered. There was something else I observed about her — her eyes would always tear up every time she’d tell me a story about indenture. Yet despite the hardships, she carried neither bitterness nor anger towards those who had tormented and harmed her, only sadness. I realised that my grandmother’s Christian faith had been one of the reasons why she was able to forgive the perpetrators despite the cruelty and beatings she and many like her had endured.
The language of the local indigenous population was something they had never encountered in their lives. And while they were kept away from the local indigenous population they were intrigued by them because they felt a deep bond with the iTaukei village lifestyle. It reminded her so much of the communal culture they had left behind. Despite the strange land they had arrived in they weren’t aware that their hardships would chart a course for their descendants who would one day become beacons of hope in their adopted homeland.
When my great-grandmother died of a miscarriage her young son (my grandfather) was taken in by an English overseer to work as a “table-boy” in his home. The kindly wife of the overseer took to my grandfather and began teaching him how to read and write English. When the Overseer had finished his work in Fiji he wanted to take my grandfather to England but he declined the invitation. Instead, grandfather decided to remain in Fiji to work as an Indentured labourer. I cannot imagine the emotional turmoil he would’ve experienced losing his mother so early on in life and in a strange land. Yet he stoically persevered becoming a student of the English language and raising his own family in the tiny Navua community. After finishing 10 years of indenture he decided to head back to India with his young family.
Spending nine months in India and feeling “homesick” for his beloved island home, my grandfather decided to return to Fiji as an immigrant.
As destiny would have it he wasn’t to know at the time that his decision of returning to Fiji would change his life and that of his family in the most remarkable way. Upon returning to Navua, and after some time, he decided to leave the small, close-knit community. With his family in tow, he opened a small store on the corner of Toorak Rd and Amy St in Suva. His move to Suva from Navua was because of falling sugar prices as he believed there were better opportunities for educating his children in the bustling capital. It wasn’t long before his Toorak store became a “hub” for all manner of people discussing everything from religion and cultural issues to sport, family and community. A staunch Hindu, grandfather loved singing not only Indian songs but Indian Christian lyrics as well. Little did he know his passion would filter down the DNA chain becoming the catalyst for our own band Ulysses in which my late brother Raoul and I were foundation members.
What inspires me more than anything is that my grandfather knew the benefits of education. He did everything he could to invest in his children. Educational opportunities were almost non-existent for their community in the 1920s and ’30s. Yet he saved every penny he could sending his eldest son, Samson, to Australia to become one of the first local medical doctors in Fiji. He did the same for his second eldest son, Ramsey, sending him to Australia to become one of the first fully trained Methodist ministers. His youngest son, Andrew (my dad), he decided to send to New Zealand just before WWII. While studying in Auckland, and when war broke out in 1939, my dad applied to enlist in the NZ armed forces. Sadly his application and contribution to the war effort were denied. Even though he was bitterly disappointed having to sit out the war, he went on to complete his studies becoming not only one of the first barristers and solicitors in Fiji but most probably one of the first Indo-Fijians to play representative rugby union in Auckland.
In later years he would be honoured to serve as Fiji’s first Director of Public Prosecutions. However, what’s even more revolutionary for the 1920s and 1930s is that my grandfather would send his two young daughters, Phulmati and Bhanmati, to New Zealand where they were the first fully trained teachers in the nation. Both would be responsible for educating so many young, aspiring students of so many families.
They gave of themselves unselfishly in laying the seeds of so many charitable, educational, religious, sporting and social organisations that helped develop and shape an infant nation. At times I would have to stop reading, choking back the tears, as the full impact of their achievements began hitting home. I felt so blessed that they had embarked on a journey that would take them thousands of miles from the land of their birth and from their small village and families travelling across vast oceans to a place and people they knew nothing about.
It seems that my grandfather had developed an uncanny visionary foresight and I can only presume where his “vision” came from. I’m not sure though that he could’ve predicted in his wildest dreams that his youngest son would one day become the attorney-general of his adopted island home. What’s sad though is that he would never get to witness this amazing achievement or any of the accomplishments of all of his children. However I know, without a shadow of doubt that, like any proud parent he would’ve been cheering his kids on from his “home in the sky”.
As I began connecting the dots of my heritage I realised where my creativity and song-writing abilities had come from. When in 1980 I wrote Fiji My Beautiful Fiji to celebrate Fiji’s 10th anniversary of independence, I had no idea of our family’s history or that my grandfather was a keen musician until I read the book. And this was because my grandfather had passed away about the time I was born so I never got to see or meet him. As I reflect on the lyrics of Fiji My Beautiful Fiji I realise that I may have penned the song but the words had been echoing through the ages via my ancestors who were struggling to find an identity in their adopted homeland.
What’s even more uncanny is that when the song was released on October 10, 1980, it was during my dad’s term as attorney-general in Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara’s Alliance government.
Was all of this a strange coincidence or could it have been the guiding “hand” of divine destiny?
However, there’s one thing I know for sure, all of our family who have passed on and those of us who’re still here are still celebrating the monumental historical event that transpired in Fiji last year where the chiefs of Rewa and Ba embraced all of the families of the Indentured Labourers as their own, giving them a new identity as the “children of the Ratu!”
For this awesome honour, I especially pay tribute to the visionary chiefs and the vanua of Rewa and Ba, including the Roko Tui Dreketi, Ro Teimumu Kepa, and the Tui Noco, Ratu Isoa Damudamu, for not only accepting our people as their own but also, after over 130 years, giving our people an identity. Rewa and Ba’s loving embrace and acceptance echoes the very sentiments of that encouraging scripture from the Bible in Leviticus 19:33-34 which says: “And if a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall do him no harm. The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you and you shall love him as yourself; for you also were strangers in Egypt: I am the Lord your God!”
This beautiful encouragement from the Bible has now come to pass thanks to the people of Rewa and Ba and to the work of FRIEND’s CEO Sashi Kiran. Ms Kiran deserves special praise for her untiring efforts of this historical reconciliation process. It has opened a new chapter for the nation and people of Fiji. I believe prosperity and blessings will continue flowing for generations yet unborn. And I believe the prophecy that was also given to Fiji many years ago, “Fiji the way the world should be”, is indeed to coming to pass. What’s even more coincidentally intriguing for me is that one of the first postings for my Uncle Ramsey Deoki was to be the talatala for the Dilkusha Methodist Church in Davuilevu — the little wooden church just before the old Rewa Bridge. Personally it comes as no surprise connecting the dots of history and what has since transpired for the “children of the Ratu!”
Again, was it a strange coincidence or divine destiny?
Going back to the book, the very first page tells a remarkable story of a young man who was desperately ill with typhoid fever and close to dying. As my uncle Ramsay Deoki grappled with the spirit of death, and in the presence of Reverend Steadman, he made a pledge that if God healed him, “I promise to give my life in service to God!” He was miraculously healed and as the story goes, he never returned to his father’s business but served the Lord faithfully all the days of his life with his parent’s blessing.
As a child I, along with many of my family members, attended Dudley Methodist Church in Toorak. What a surprise I got when I read in the book that the place where my grandfather built his store also became the site for the original Dudley Methodist Church. Even more surprising is that a staunch Hindu would convert to Christianity at a time when it was considered blasphemy to even entertain such a notion. Why did grandfather convert knowing the consequences of his choice is most probably founded in the fact that his conversion, which didn’t happen overnight, was actually a supernatural conviction of truth. It took time and the patience of several amazing men who challenged him with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Grandfather was no pushover. He vigorously challenged their beliefs too. However, a time came when the discussions turned from logic to an overwhelming supernatural loving embrace of truth. His life and that of his family was forever changed.
On the October 27, 1918, his entire family and close relatives were baptised as Christians in a moving ceremony.
Tragically, his family’s conversion to Christianity brought them into sharp conflict from people within his own community. They felt betrayed by a man who was considered a leader and great advocate in their community. Yet grandfather stayed true to his new-found faith even when the persecution became so intense that it nearly came close to a violent end. Interestingly, The Fiji Times of February 11, 1920, carries part of this story. His passion to serve Jesus Christ not only saw him become a lay preacher, he also helped finance the building of Dudley Methodist Church. This year we, as a family, will celebrate our centenary as Christians. As I reflect on the many amazing stories contained in the book I realise there are sometimes unseen forces guiding destiny. Even though many of our family have since left the shores of Fiji moving to many places on the planet, I’m reminded that we have been blessed beyond anything I could possibly imagine.
One of my regrets is that I never got to meet my grandfather. Yet through this remarkable book I’ve become acquainted with a truly amazing man and people I never got to meet who were prepared to place everything on the line for what they passionately believed in. There are many stories just like ours where men and women have had to overcome insurmountable odds to help their families achieve amazing milestones. This story is but only one of many millions like it and, in some respects, an adventure of epic proportions that will become a source of encouragement for many generations of our family.
I, along with our family, am indebted to the nation and people of Fiji, and especially to our indigenous iTaukei brothers and sisters for giving us the opportunity of becoming Fijians, serving the needs of a truly special and blessed people on planet Earth. It would be fitting that I leave you with the words of a profound quote from the back cover of the book:
“Religion is good and I have a profound respect for religion, but it is not enough. It has an honourable part to play in life, but let no one imagine that mere religion will redeem humanity; but rather what history teaches, when men’s minds are jaundiced and religion is perverted, fanaticism and prejudice will drag humanity into the very mire of death.” (Reverend Ramsey Deoki)
