Ode to a Nokia

We stood at the Vodafone counter in Nadi a little forlorn, sliding away our various iPhones and ‘smart’ communications devices. The friendly staff waited patiently for us, and one by one we retrieved what we’d long assumed to be nothing more than a distant memory and an ancient technology: the Nokia mobile phone (and one Samsung brick, but let’s ignore that for the time being). As each of our old phones were given new life in the form of a local sim card, the polyphonic Nokia ringtone sounded over and again, conjuring at once a feeling of both giddy sentimentality and disappointed devolution. Over the next hours and days, we would struggle with the unintuitive menu system, the lack of a touch screen and the internet at our fingertips. We would also come to revel in the lengthy battery life, the solid clunk of the keys as we tapped out messages, and the fact that hey, we’re volunteers now, and this is our first sacrifice. We’re awesome.

As with all ‘good’ pieces of writing (and I employ the word extremely loosely), that little anecdote (which happened all of five days ago) rings true in a broader sense. The other volunteers and I have now given up what could possibly be regarded as the quintessential product of the Western world – the smart phone – and gone back to our roots during our time in Fiji. We have carried all our earthly possessions in a bizarre amalgamation of suitcases, backpacks, guitar cases and oversized surfboard covers to an island in the middle of the Pacific, been thrown together in a warm and humid atmosphere to work all over the country in order to build capacity in a variety of areas. Compared to other volunteers, and indeed citizens of the world, we have it lucky: secure housing, clean water and good food, electricity, public transport, and a fair amount more than just basic infrastructure.  What we are missing is that extra little something that people of our generation in the developed world have come to rely on far too much: instant access to everything.

A case in point. Yesterday our group of volunteers were sent on a hunt through Suva to collect clues and visit landmarks in a creative attempt to help us orient ourselves within the city and grow in confidence here. One of our first clues was to search for a big blue and yellow building, which I immediately recognised (Rup’s Big Bear, home of funky furniture at bargain prices). Getting there from where we began the hunt wasn’t so simple: I had physically put my hand in my pocket to pull out my phone and consult Google Maps before I realised what I’d done, fingers closing instead on a chunky Nokia that was of little use to me.

We found the store, and quite quickly too. Chalk that up to Suva only being a small place and there being about five stores in a three kilometre radius, or own genius and quick thinking, it’s up to you (the streets can be really confusing though, way too many complex intersections and a complete disregard for your typical grid formation city layout).

This would generally be the part where I hammer the message home, but I’ve realised I don’t really have a message to impart. Embarrassing. Then again, this is a blog and not some high falutin online journal, so there doesn’t technically need to be a point. Oh no wait, I have something. Here goes.

Whilst retiring our smart phones and reviving ye olde faithful Nokia may have seemed like a painful thing during our first days here in the Feej, I get the feeling the battle has only just begun, and it rages all the way uphill. Tuning our expectations and attitudes to this place, fighting our frustrations at those expectations not being met and our attitudes not being well-received, will not be as easy as sliding a new sim card into an old phone. We may have devolved somewhat, and we may indeed face an increased risk of developing RSI, but most of us will also grow and learn once again that we can rely on ourselves and others, and that at times, we are just as likely as the internet to be right about the gestation period of elephants. So thank you, my old friend the Nokia. May you serve me well during my time in Fiji. Grow not tired, nor develop gummy keys or cracked screen, but be an indestructible slab of plastic in my hand that can be used as a weapon if all else fails.

Not bad, eh?

N.B. My own old Nokia did not in fact come out of retirement as well as I’d hoped (although I now remember why I retired it in the first place), so during my stay here, I’m using my sister’s phone. Thanks Christie!