47. Fiji, My Bittersweet Farewell to You.

Sunday morning it was.  Time to get crackin’ for it’s sailing day.  Turn by turn we got up and took our showers; as usual they were cool and quick!  

Busy emotional day ahead.  I got dressed, made my bed and placed my suitcase upon it.    The kitchen had been buzzing since before my eyes opened and breakfast smelled especially good this morning.  

We all sat down to enjoy our meal and I wanted to savor everyone’s face who was sitting at this table with me.  After breakfast Noori arrived and just after that my aunts, cousins and uncles arrived from Toorak.  

All the bodies in the house were busy doing one thing or another, the children were running around as they do.  I had gone off to my room to pack and Noori was right there with me.  

There was a little wardrobe where most of my clothing hung.  She immediately began to remove and fold them;  she was packing my suitcase for me.

I’d glance at her as I buzzed around the room for things to put in the case.  She’d watch me and I knew it.  I closed in on her near the suitcase and saw the tears just rolling down her cheeks.  She stopped adjusting my garments in the case and reached out for my hands,  

Noori held my hands in hers and then she embraced me with the most affectionate hug she had; naturally I responded to this with a tighter hug and there we stood, embraced for what seemed like an eternity yet too short.

She cast a look around the room mainly towards the open bedroom door just to be sure no one was looking our way and then she said to me, “I love you Gary and I will miss you so much.  I also promise you this, I will continue to come here and take care of umi as often as I can possibly manage it.”

I pulled her to me, again in a hug and then I kissed her.  ‘I love you very much Noori.  Please know I have to leave for now but also I feel you do know me well enough to understand why I must do this.  I promise you I will come back soon and we can finally be married. Then we’ll be with one another forever!’

A lite lunch was laid out and we all ate together.  Then we did whatever last minute preparations were remaining before leaving for the wharf.  The family bus came (out of my brother-in-law’s garage) and it was time to pile in.  

Better than taking many different cars wouldn’t you say?  There was roughly thirty of us, adults and children, climbing on board.  I was the last one to get on as I wanted to gaze upon my family home one last time and bid it farewell.  

The bus driven by my brother-in-law drove away down Mal Street and towards the wharf where the P&O Liner Orsova awaited me.

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46. Saturday at 28 Mal Street

It was an ordinary Saturday morning spent washing, breakfasting and some light-hearted conversation with all those present.  My elder sister had come from her home to spend a couple of days with me, otherwise our normal comfortable routine was there.  

An occasional neighbor would stop in during the course of the day to say goodbye, expressing their regret of not being able to attend my dockside departure but certainly wanted to make known their good intentions and well-wishes.  

For the better part of this Saturday it was a do nothing day.  I had already decided to save my packing for the next morning as my sailing was in the afternoon and so I mainly rested, daydreaming mostly.  

Besides it wasn’t my day to catch the chickens for dinner so I just continued plotting my near future.  What would I do the first few days of my arrival in San Francisco, U.S.A.?, this I wondered.

I was departing Fiji with a heavy heart, one not completely happy inside because something was missing and that something was someone named Noori.  We loved one another very much.

It was about noon when I saw her for the first time that week.  My little sister must’ve told Noori the day before when she first learned of my plans.  

She spoke gently only her eyes were anything but happy.  “Gary, I am feeling shocked.  You’re really leaving us tomorrow?”  

I tried to smile in the presence of those eyes and I tenderly told her, ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and your loving support Noori.  I had been consumed by much anger and I feel there’s no telling what might have happened next.  It would’ve involved more pain though, I’m almost sure of that.’

I know I didn’t need to remind Noori (but I did anyway) of her compassion which, time and time again had pulled me through my darkest hours, other than that moment on the docks when I realised I couldn’t return to Sonia.  

I had to experience that one through completely on my own.  Besides I hadn’t met Noori at that time.

And then I felt it; the similarity in which this scene was beginning to play out.  I had hoped with all my being this wouldn’t be a repeat.

Our moments together had allowed our feelings to blossom yet unfortunate was our timing; still very real was the actuality of old fashioned views all too present in the form of a solid wall.

You, my seasoned readers, know all this.  My family had quickly come to stand by me where Noori was concerned; this intelligent, beautiful and dynamic Muslim girl was a part of our family already.  Our love however stood no chance to exist where her family was concerned and so ….

Still I made a promise to Noori and shared this objective with my family; I would travel back in two years time, if not possible sooner, to make Noori my wife and return with her to my home in the United States.  

After successfully achieving this goal, I could begin bringing the family there one by one.  If that’s the way I had to do it, then that’s exactly what I would do.  

I long since had memorized the delicious smells coming from the kitchen of my family home, so comforting indeed.  That night the aroma registered in my mind of a final evening meal in my place of birth, my childhood home filled with the ghosts of my youth, making it all the more intense.  

For safe keeping I felt the need to preserve it in my consciousness.  

Journeyed abroad before, I certainly had.  Only this time it was final – I was moving away, really leaving home.  

It was a difficult good night Noori and I shared, one with some serious lingering questions which really couldn’t be answered.  After dinner my brother and my sister walked Noori home.  It was the way we always had to do it.

And so it was the end of Saturday at 28 Mal Street in Suva, Fiji Islands.

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