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Fiji Islands

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · Sep 3, 1903

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 80, No. 35.

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Fiji Islands

By Myrtle G. Parker

WE are stationed two hundred miles from Suva. Our work here moves slowly. Prejudice is not so great as when we arrived. We are still in the little native house on the beach, surrounded by bush and coconut-trees, near a large native town. This island is fifteen miles long, and three miles wide. There are ten towns. Other islands are about us, both near and far away.
The weather is very hot at present, and the burning sand and reflecting water make the heat more trying. We have sudden and frequent changes from calm, delightful, beautiful days, to adverse winds, with the sea like a boiling pot. It was such a time when we started on a previously arranged journey to a near island. A head wind and a high sea made us six hours in going twelve miles. It rained, and with the sea washing over us, we were soon drenched. This is one phase of life in Fiji. We spent a week with our brethren at that island, Cikobia. The joy of service together quite eclipsed the roughness of the journey, although I was never so seasick before. Our brethren there are of good courage in the Lord and faithful in their services. We sold a few books, and started them in carrying on a Sabbath-school. This branch of the work is very difficult for the natives, unless some one can be with them and teach them for a time.
At Cikobia there is a strange water source. Only one spot on the island affords fresh water. This is on the beach. The water comes up out of the rock. At low tide a hole is made in the sand, and the water dipped out until quite fresh. They bathe and wash here also. Truly this is the Lord's doing. “O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!” Everywhere we see his love manifested.
The ocean was very rough the week we were away, but the Lord permitted the buli, chief of the district, to go over on business. He kindly gave us passage back to our town. A hard rain stilled the tempestuous waves, and favoring winds brought us home in an hour. We were home just in time to save the roof of the native house from blowing apart. A gale set in, and the rain fell in torrents. The roof was secured with large cocoanut leaves, a turtle-net, and ropes.
We rejoice every day that we are permitted to be here. The Lord is our rock and our fortress. MYRTLE G. PARKER.