How Does Kava Kava Work?

Then, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road we spotted a little Fijian girl with unusual red hair that stuck straight out from her head. Becky and I were delighted and wanted to take her picture, but also wanted to be respectful to her. So we searched for her parents to ask their permission before doing so. As we began to look for her home, we spotted a tiny village on the edge of the sea. As we approached, several villagers spotted us, and a large Fijian man came running in our direction. With a huge smile he greeted us, not in some tribal tongue, but in the Queen’s English. 

“Hi, my name is Joe,” he said in a booming voice. “Please come join us for some kava.” As we entered the village, we were greeted by what seemed like endless smiles and laughter. I was invited into a large hut filled with thirty Fijian men to participate in a kava ceremony, and Becky was invited to stay outside and talk with the women as was traditional in their culture. 

I was bowled over by the enthusiasm of these people. Their unbridled cheerfulness was amazing. Inside the hut, the Fijian men were all smiling so brightly, so happy to have a visitor, and they welcomed me with “Bula, bula, bula!”, which roughly translated means, “Welcome, be happy, we love you!” The men had been soaking yanggona (a kind of peppery root) in a bowl of water for several hours, and were proudly stirring and ladling out a nonalcoholic drink they called kava (what looked to m e like muddy water). They invited m e to drink from a half-coconut shell, and as I partook of the kava (it tasted about as good as it looked), the men laughed and joked with m e and one another. After only a few moments of being with these people, I began to feel a sense of peace that I had never experienced before. 

Marveling at their sense of fun and playfulness, I asked them, “What do you think is the purpose of life?” They looked at m e as if I ‘d cracked a cosmic joke and said, seemingly in unison, “To be happy, of course. What else is there?” I said, “I t’s true: you all seem so happy here in Fiji.” One man replied, “Yes, I think that here in Fiji we are the happiest people on earth … Of course, I ‘ve never been anywhere else!” which set off another round of raucous laughter. 

Then they decided to break their own rules and bring Becky into the hut. They brought over the only kerosene lamp in the village, along with ukuleles and mandolins, and pretty soon the bure was filled with the entire village as the men, women, and children sang to us in beautiful four-part Fijian harmony. It was one of the most powerful and deeply moving experiences of our lives. 

The most incredible thing about these people is that they wanted nothing from us except to share the bountiful happiness they felt for life. 

Many hours later and after long farewell wishes, we left the village renewed, with a deep sense of peace and balance in our lives. We returned after dark that evening to a magical resort with a heightened awareness and gratitude for the beauty around us.