Thomas, the boxing champ of Fiji

I had worked a trade show in Tasmania for five days -- can you blame a guy for having a four-day stopover in Fiji? Fully refreshed after a good night's sleep at the Regent of Fiji, I rented a car and set out to see the island. The perimeter road was nice but I wanted to see the interior. The road inland from Sigatoka soon became overgrown and I stopped to scout ahead for a way out. Something rushed out of the bushes – a naked Fijian covered with soap and a big smile. I had interrupted his bath in the river. He signed for me to wait and then he reappeared wrapped in a towel to introduce himself as Thomas, the boxing champ of Fiji. He directed me to his brother’s house/hut where we sat cross-legged on the floor. I accepted his offer for a drink then he grabbed a stick at the front door opening, knocked down some oranges in the yard, and squeezed out some drinks. My photo-taking left him requesting copies. With the confusion about addresses, I drove him and family to the local village to see the post office. I felt like a float driver in a parade as Tom waved proudly to people en route. Riding in a car must have given rebirth to his fame as boxing champ of Fiji thirty years before. On the return trip, his nieces in the back seat asked if I had children. My proud response to one-year-old Katrina led to a response in their language and much laughter. Tom said they wanted to know if I would like to leave them with a Fijian baby. Such offers in the past have led to tales like Mutiny on the Bounty -- not today.