FEATURE

Housing issues highlight division in Pacific countries

Right next door to one of Suvas newer affluent suburbs, more than a thousand people are crammed into makeshift housing. We meet three families and get an idea of a slice of their lives. By ALISI MATAI, MARTYN NAMORONG, PRIYA CHAND and RICARDO MORRIS To see the stark contrast in Fiji between those people who have adequate housing and the growing number of those who do not, all you need to do is travel the stretch of Ratu Mara Road in Suva from Samabula to Nabua. Midway along this stretch, on the hills above the deep gully looking toward the left, youll notice colourful, multi-storey concrete structures of the homes in Bayview Heights, one of Suvas more affluent suburbs. This view suddenly gives way to a dense collection of corrugated iron structures that stretch up over the hills, along the creek bank and towards Nabua Town. The dividing line between Bayview Heights and the Muslim League Estate could not be any clearer or straighter. On an overcast day in June, we four media workers from Fiji estimated 400 families who live at the Muslim League Estate, one of Fijis estimated 230 squatter settlements. The families we visited represented a snapshot of what life is like for many in Fiji today crammed into informal settlements, many of which are to be found in the greater Suva area from Lami to Nausori. We visited an ethnic Indian family who have lived there all their lives, a family representing inter-marriage between ethnic groups and an iTaukei family who still identify with their province of Tailevu. The Muslim League Estate is spread over an area of about nine-and-a-half acres. First settled in the 1950s, it has grown to become home to about 1500 people, many of whom moved there over the past 10 years from outside Suva. Hundreds of long, thin, white plastic water pipes run haphazardly overhead, and in some places clothes are hung out to dry on pulley lines stretched across the creek that runs right through the settlement and sometimes floods when there is torrential rain.

To get across the creek, we walk over a rusting steel beam that serves as a bridge across to Jai Rams place. His house sits on stilts which keep it above the flood waters when the creek breaks its banks. Jai Ram, a 53-year-old bus driver lives in a spot along the creek at Blue Corner at the sharp bend of Ratu Mara Road, one of the more visible areas of the Muslim League Estate. He attributes the name Blue Corner to the many lean-to houses that are painted blue. Ram resides there with his wife, Reema Ram, 53, and their third child, a daughter, who is still in school. Their other two children have started their own families but still live nearby in the settlement. Ram, who was not working that day because the weather had put him off, says he came there after his parents were kicked out of their home further down the road when he was three years old. At the time, Ram says, there were only about 43 houses in Muslim League Estate. Today that number has mushroomed into the hundreds. However, unlike other informal settlements, social problems were not as prevalent at Blue Corner. The residents, the majority of whom are said to be iTaukei from Tailevu, live in close quarters with each other, have adopted a traditional sense of ommunalism, with the kerekere system of borrowing from neighbours well established. Referring to his iTaukei neighbours, Ram said they got on well and there were very few major disputes. If they need something we do it, if we need s omething they do it, says Ram sitting on his veranda overlooking the briskly flowing creek. The sense of community is evident, despite the many people of different backgrounds. Working with the community policing unit of the Fiji Police Force and the Peoples Community Network, the residents have divided themselves in to five zones.

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Ram is on the committee for zone one which includes 86 houses. The committee is responsible for dealing with minor civil disputes that may arise between neighbours. Any criminal offence is immediately referred to the police. In recent years, there have not been any major problems, although he appeared rather distraught over the theft of three of his ducks over the weekend. Ram wifes Reema, operates a canteen from home selling basic groceries like candles, matches, noodles, biscuits and tinned food to supplement her husbands income from bus-driving. Leaving Rams house, we walk on a narrow pathway under his house, past the two remaining ducks in their pen, weave our way around a tiny cabbage patch, to the house next door which has been divided in to three. In the central portion, literally a slice of the building measuring about three by five metres, we found Anand Dutt, 38, his wife Filomena, 39 and their youngest son just over a year old who is named after his father. Their other two sons, aged seven and eight, were at school. Squeezed in that space and stacked to the corrugated iron roof, are their possessions, which include a bed on which the baby and parents sleep. Mattresses are placed on the floor at night for the older boys to sleep. It seems improbable that a family of five could live comfortably in this space, but Dutt and his family have been here since 2010. Before he married, he used to live with his mother at her Toorak home. Since then the young family have moved to various places before ending up at Muslim League Estate. Dutt is a taxi driver but is also a skilled, self-taught technician who has worked in the formal sector but became disillusioned with the long hours and poor pay. Ive seen all the bullshit bosses and the bullshit promises, says Dutt. Thats why I dont want to work for other people. Its better to be your own boss. He previously worked at a printery and until he quit several years ago, he used to work for a company that produces mobile phone content. Dutt is well-spoken and technically adept and indeed and somewhat surprisingly an Apple computer sits on the corner of a crowded table. Explaining the presence of the computer, he says he was previously a manager and his job involved uploading content for phones to a mobile phone company website. He notes that his one-year-two-week old son is already quite skilled at working the computer, something he is proud about. But he realises a place like this is not ideal for bringing up children. While his sons were aware of the conditions and understood their situation, the elder boy is sometimes fussy because he spent some years with his grandmother in a big house in Toorak. Dutt says his younger son will soon need more space when he starts crawling and walking, and he hopes to move away to a place less congested in the future. This place is very small. Now I have to think of him, he needs to move around, he says of his namesake. Talking about his aspirations, Dutt said he was saving up to buy his own taxi, if not Ill get out of the country thats my second option and its going to happen slowly. As we said our goodbyes and took some final photos he asked, Can you email me the photos? before giving his email address. From there we walked up the hill to a house in a yard that was bigger than others in the area and situated under huge mango tree. Maika Tevitibau, from Nakelo in Tailevu, has lived in Muslim League Estate since 1984, a year before his father retired as a prison officer. In his 50s, Tevitibau worked for 19 years for CJ Patel Limited dealing in automotive batteries before retiring in 2005. In 1998, he moved into this house, which is bigger and has more space around it. It was also the year he got married. Apart from his wife, his sister-in-law and her daughter live in the house. They run a small canteen, like many other residents, but his wife also has a money-lending business. She says many of her clients are civil servants and other professionals. Each weekend, a group from the community come to Tevitibaus home where they drink kava and contribute a $2 coin each to an end-of-year fund. Over the years Tevitibau has noticed the community grow and change. There are new people coming in with new ideas and new style of living. Asked what he meant by new style of living he said nowadays there is increased noise level and these new-

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comers twist the mind of those who were here before, especially the young people. Overall, the three families we met did not seem to think that there was problem with the conditions they live in. Ram and Tevitibau seemed content with their lives and happy enough with the community spirit that exists. Dutt, on the other hand, accepts that he will be moving on but for the time being this is where his home is. For long term residents like Ram, change seems to have flowed slowly like the calm little creek below his veranda. To him new roads and playgrounds defined changed as opposed to new houses or landscapes. After 50 years in a settlement, perhaps the lifestyle has become absorbed into his psyche as being normal. As social worker Father Kevin Barr points out, change will only come if the poor demand change. What naturally arises then is a question of people being able to demand change when they see their situation to be an inevitability of life or worse, a normal part of life. However, crushed within the congestion of settlements also lie the aspirational young people like Dutt. Like Dutt many are educated and have dreams of moving up the social ladder. They are resourceful and knowledgeable and express their aspirations negatively through crime or positively by being innovative. The challenge for society is to help them realise their aspirations instead of crushing them.