Beachcomber Island, Fiji's party central.

"Okay, this is what you do. I present the bilo (bowl) to you. You clap twice to thank me – and the Gods of the Old Religion. It's a sign of respect. Then you drink the Kava. All in one go. Like this." He slurped it down with no problem at all, breathing a sigh of relief as if he had been waiting to drink it all day. He wiped his hand on his face as if it was wet, which I found puzzling. He put the bilo down on the bench and clapped twice. "Bula. Bula means Life. You say that too, before you drink the Kava, and after you drink the Kava."

"Roger that, pal."

He then passed the bilo to me after dunking in the bucket. I looked at it in the darkness and saw this nasty brown water that looked like it came from the bottom of a sewer.

Not one to flinch and insult them, I immediately said, "No problem... this looks like Ovaltine," and chugged it down with one shot. Within moments my mouth went numb, like I had just been slapped in the face! My tongue slowed down too – it felt like molasses.

"Er – I feel strange," I said.

Duke and the others immediately laughed at me, rocking back and forth. They were loving it! Pointing at me Duke said, "Everybody feels strange after drinking Kava for the first time. You are no different."

The bowl was then passed to Erik, the kid from Colorado. He had arrived only a few nights before, and had done Kava with them already. Showing no fear, he took it down with no problem at all. I guess he was used to it.

You see Mo," Duke added, "when it comes to the Kava everything changes. I mean, not long ago I got into a tussle with a co-worker here on the island. But later on in the evening, we sat down and drank the Kava – and all was better after that. No problems."

"So Kava... I figure it's the equivalent of me sitting down and drinking a beer with a friend, right?"

"Kind of," Duke said. "But with the Kava, you don't get drunk."

"But you get problems down there!" One of the other Fijians said pointing to his crotch. All of them busted out laughing again. These were some cheery people!

So we sat there for a few hours, literally, just talking. That's what you're supposed to do while drinking Kava, and I sure didn't mind doing it. Though I was getting high on this mild narcotic, I was able to appreciate the setting I was in. I think that one of the effects of drinking Kava is that it makes you want to think. And I sure did, in the quiet moments of the conversation. Shit, I was in Fiji! The moon was out fully, lighting up the whole area. Despite the darkness of the open-air mess hall we were sitting in, the illumination from the moonlight was like a second sun outside. There was a seabreeze screaming in from the west, swaying the palm trees. The breeze was a definite respite from the day's heat though. The crashing of the waves attracted laughter as well. I heard the Brits again, more than likely skinny-dipping in the water, frolicking. It made me take a break from the drinking, and I took a quick stroll outside to observe the landscape. It all seemed so amazing. I imagined what it was like back in their Old Religion days. I'm sure the white explorers who "found" this place for the West were enticed by its beauty. But who could tell that they would end up as dinner upon meeting the locals!?

The Fijians seemed to pride themselves on the fact that they were all headhunters at one time. They even had devices that were used in their Old Religion days for splitting an enemy's head open, so they could eat the brains. The fact that the Christians Missionaries "tamed" these people was quite a feat. I mean, they got the Fijians to believe in Christ, rather than their polytheistic gods and demi-gods that made up their religion for eons.

But It made me sad in a way. Was it really all worth it? For who were the Westerners to say that what the Fijians believed in was wrong? Though the Fijians come from a very violent, draconian society, it's what they only knew. Besides, looking at it from my own perspective as a Black American, the same thing happened to us in a way, where we were pulled out of our own societies by Westerners and renamed, being forced to live and work in a Western society. Believing in Western beliefs. I know I most certainly do now.

I remember during the Christmas celebrations on the island, most of the workers there sang Christmas carols to us, in Fijian. I never had seen people sing carols with such gusto, since seeing it in Black churches back home. It was incredible to experience. Yet it made me sad as well. For the thoughts of what I just described ran through my head once more. There seemed to be an infusion of both Western and Fijian beliefs in their society. It reminded me of the Kava Duke had just made. They used to mix Kava with spit, part of their Old Religion. They now use water, a modern fixture of life. The Kava is mixed into the water, and drunk not among elders but among friends, family, and strangers like myself. I could equate it to the Fijians mixing their Old Religion, with their "New" beliefs – that of the Westernized way of life, and thinking. Yet the remnants of the Old Religion still lived in drinking Kava, and here I was experiencing it.

Mo and the other passengers on a cat on the way to Beachcomber.

After several hours of drinking Kava, I had the full effect. It tasted disgusting. But, as long as I thought it was something else, I could down it with no problem. Towards daybreak, the thought of just getting up and walking the 3 minutes to my bunk seemed like a mission. My legs felt like sludge. I felt like I had taken a huge muscle relaxant pill, which is exactly what Kava seems to be, if only in liquid form. Looking at the glass of water sitting on the table in front of me, I thought that just reaching for it would wear me out. Wow. I just felt so freaking lazy drinking this! If there was a TV in front of me I would've been set.

"So how do you feel, Mo?" Duke said.

"How do I feel? Like a piece of wet cement." That sent them all into hysterics.

By that time a few of the Fijians had left to go to bed. The Kava seemed to have a stronger effect on them than it did me. It seemed to be a tranquilizer to them all. The guys who were left, including Duke, were just lounging on the benches of the mess hall, totally wiped out as if they did a marathon.

"Mo, listen here," one of them said. "If you drink Kava, just make sure you don't have sexual relations with your woman!" He followed that comment with a hearty laugh. I totally agreed with him on that point, I couldn't see sex as part of the equation when drinking this!

My speech slowed, my muscles felt like slop, but I tried to get up. I stood trembling a little, as if I was a baby learning to walk. "Hell man... I can't believe I had 10 bowls of this." I took a look around. My vision was crystal clear. I didn't feel drunk, didn't have the blurred vision that people get when they are drinking. I didn't feel uninhibited either, like what booze does. I just had a feeling of being in slow motion. My equilibrium was off as well. I was quite clear in conscience, but in terms of motor control, I was out of control. "I feel like I need a walker – or maybe a wheelchair." That sent the Fijians into hysterics again. They seemed to get a real kick out of my comments, which was a good thing.

"Ha, the Kava has hit you hard, my friend. Make sure you come back tomorrow night and drink some more with us."

"You will come, right?" The Drummer asked. Not to be deterred, I agreed.

"And Mo," Duke said. "Did you know what your name means in our dialect?"

"What's that?"

"Dirty!" They all cracked up again!

This was turning out to be some type of island...

Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our Pacific Insiders page.