The birth of Kelera and Arieta

Rechielli was fifteen; that was the name of our new sister. She was the only child of the house, aside from her twenty-six year old brother who was living in the house next door, and our sister was quiet and beautiful. As we dragged our bags up to the house, she introduced herself as ‘Rachel,’ - they fumbled a little over the pronunciation of our names. We asked her about her school and her favourite subjects but the answers were whispered and brief.

Their house was situated at the top of the hill, slightly away from the rest, with a magnificent view of the country-side. Like all others, the house was single-storied, with a corrugated roof, outdoor bathroom and slated windows. Unlike all other houses however, it was green; a beautiful, ill-fitting, mint green, that outshone the rest. Our new mother showed us to our room which could be accessed via a wooden door from the front porch; we drank in our surroundings gratefully. It was a large room, precisely square with a single double-mattress in the centre and two pillows and blankets laid on top. Neither Harriet nor I had expected our own room separate to the family and we made it soon clear that we were very pleased to have our own space. With our suitcases inside, and our 'mother' boiling the tea, we all sat on the porch.

I told her all about England and University, then I asked Rachel what her favourite subject was: ‘Mm, English,’ she said, ‘and Basic,’ which I took to mean Basic Science. It was only when I asked Ne-ne a direct question when she said, ‘We sorry. Va-va, and ne-ne do not speak good English.’

‘Oh that’s OK!’ I said, reddening in the cheeks.

‘Rechielli is good. She learn English at school.’

‘Ah ok.’

And thus, our new speaking portal emerged.

Va-va in Fiji is the name for ‘Dad’ and Ne-ne means ‘mum.’ (as in, ‘watch me whip, watch me …’) It was strange, at first, to call complete strangers mother and father – it felt like I was cheating on my parents somehow. But the foreign terms softened the blow, and helped us connect with our families much quicker.

Whilst Ne-ne began to cook dinner then, Haz and I offered to unpack our bags.

Rachel joined us in our room, watching us extract our clothes from our bags, often oo-ing and aah-ing over our new Fijian dresses. Haz and I looked at each other – we later agreed that, at the end of the project, we would wrap up most of our clothes and give them to Rachel. We laid what was needed in piles against the wall and kept the rest of the trinkets, like biscuits and presents inside our bags. At which point, Hanna and Lucky came traipsing through the house with kids dangling from their arms and legs inviting us to join. ‘Fancy coming on a tour around the village with us?’ asked Hanna, and we glanced at Rachel for approval. ‘Yes!’ we said, and took ourselves outside with them.

Though it was only four o’clock, the evening air was setting in and a gentle breeze tickled our ears. ‘I love your hair,’ said a voice, and the little girl with blue earrings, took my hand and pulled me forward.

‘Yes, you look like a princess,’ said her brother, a taller boy with darker skin, bouncing on his tip-toes.

‘Thank you!’ I said. ‘And what are your names?’

‘I’m Mance,’ said the boy, ‘And when I grow up, I want to be an air-hostess.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘And yours?’

‘I’m Rachel,’ said the girl, with a little bat of her eyelashes.

‘Oh.’ I said. Popular name…

‘Yes, that’s Big-Rachel,’ she said and twisted my arm towards my sister. 'And I’m little Rachel.'

‘So I see.’

‘This is the church,’ said Mance, and gestured towards a blue gable-roofed building near to where we’d first parked the truck.

We ambled along, almost at a skip, with the crew babbling away behind us.

‘What’s yo-o-our name?’ said little Rachel, gripping my fingers tightly.

‘My name’s Chloe,’ I said, and Haz skipped up next to us.

‘And what’s your name?’ said Mance, taking her under his wing.

‘I’m Harriet.’

‘Ah… Arieta!’ said Mance, and they burst out laughing.

‘Aw, that’s a nice name!’ I said, a little envious, ‘What's my Fijian name?’

‘Hmm,’ they pondered.

‘Kelera!’ said Rachel, and the kids laughed amongst themselves.

Kelera, I thought. Well, I like that one. And so, considering the difficulty they found in pronouncing the name 'Chloe,' from that moment on, I was known, Kelera.