Fiji25 Blog 13 - Chloe

Blog 13- Chloe

At the beginning of the trip, we were all getting used to how to tie our sulus. As a cultural piece of the village we’re intruding on, it would have been disrespectful for us to forgo the sulu-norm. It also would have been significantly easier. I am not an overly careful person – I think being so would be a waste of time – and as a result it is safe to say there have been some sulu-related incidents. There’s something deeply personal about the clothes you wear under your other clothes, the way underwear feels different than a swimsuit. The shorts I wear are nothing special and nothing new, but the dramatic unveiling really left me with something to mull over. About a week after the initial onset of The Incidents™, I asked around to see how my friends tied theirs.

Audrey, along with most of the other women, ties her sulu using a friction-based method where the left corner of the sulu lines up with your right hip. You take the remaining end across your navel and when you reach the right corner, you tuck it in by your left hip. It’s secure and simple, and marks how all of us started our time in Nanuku. Audrey in a lot of ways reminds me of how formative the high school years are, and how much they’ve changed me. I see her and I think, she has so much ahead of her. When I was moving between freshman and sophomore year, I’m sure I didn’t have the passion and knowledge she shows.

Quinton, one of our three trip leaders, ties his sulu in the exact way he had taught us in the first few days of prep, almost down to the centimeter. He has two methods that he switches between, but today’s was the formal men’s version of a good sulu tie. He says he’s bad at tying sulus even though it’s his fifth year here, but it seems natural and casual while staying respectful. I see the joy he brings his host family, especially his sweet little sister named after his sister back home. It’s natural, casual, and respectful, just like his sulu.

Cari, similar to Audrey, ties her sulu the normal feminine way, with an additional little roll at the end. The result is a short, fun version of the ordinary tie that leaves a flowy skirt that marries style and mobility. She’s been to a wide variety of different countries, and the ease of her sulu reflects everywhere she’s lived. I see the knowledge that she gained from each place in even something as simple as how to wear a piece of cloth.

Dionnah ties her sulu in a rather large knot on the side of her hip. When I asked her what her method was, the knot had travelled all the way behind her, so I was a little confused why her talk wasn’t matching her walk. When it looks right, her sulu is tied effortlessly and loosely, which I’m sure is useful in the giant family she’s staying with. There are always kids trying to pull your sulu down, so you can never be too careful. Her laugh feels effortless to me too, like she went into every conversation hoping you’d make her smile. She makes it easy.

Abi uses the same method that Audrey uses, with a few minor tweaks. It doesn’t matter, because she usually wears skirts that are summery and cheerful. Her skirts are definitively hers and they would look like hers even if someone else worse them. She adds a laughter and song to this group that I’m continuously thankful for, lovely and sweet like her skirts. In those skirts, she looks happy and free. I wish for her to feel as free as her skirts make her look.

Emre uses a secure knot method that he stopped whatever else he was doing to show me. It’s effective and to-the-point, and when completed, it sits calmly on his left hip. He wears his sulu long and official, and he’s somehow still able to move in it. He’s a really funny guy, and the simplicity of his sulu is reflected in the simplicity of his observations. A lot of times, he says things that no one else was able to put words to.

Ellis scrunches the fabric up by her waist and follows it up by tucking one end into the back of her sulu. She rolls the other end, leaving her with an end result that looks like it could be in a magazine. Her method is efficient but doesn’t sacrifice organization, the same way she talks only every-so-often but makes each time worth listening. She speaks with care and amusement and kindness and grace.

Alex has a kind of complicated method to tie his sulu, and he seems overall unattached to it. Until recently, he wasn’t really wearing his sulu unless he was told to, and when he sits, his sulu basically acts like a belt with too much fabric. When he stands up, you can see a variety of things in his pockets. When asked about them, he commented on how it was difficult to access the stuff in his pockets while he had the sulu on. I can’t imagine why. He’s always funny the same way he should be always wearing his sulu, and no one’s really lived until they hear Alex start a sentence with “I lowkey”.

Brian went through a rough few days where he would waltz around sulu-less, but he’s really shown character development since then and now when you see him, he’s sulu-ed 90% of the time. Even though I’d been in Chem with him this past year, I hadn’t really known him until now. My opinion of him is overly positive, and my thoughts about him only get better every time I see him with his sulu equipped, which as of late, is every time I see him.

Nate’s sulu is jaunty and short, allowing him to move and swing the little Fijian kids around. He’s probably the strongest of our group, so he naturally gets the most requests to be thrown in the air (by the younglings). He wears a sulu with the shells of Fiji on the bottom, and I’ve become familiar with the bright yellow fabric. Being around him is comfortable, fun, and at times mildly informative, which is exactly what you get from his sulu.

Wilson’s sulu method is probably my favorite, because it has aspects to it that nobody else could ever have thought up. He starts with what’s essentially a strapless dress before hitting a little “pinch n’ roll” (as he calls it). It takes his sulu down to waist-level, and though I don’t know what went into perfecting this science, it works well. Wilson, for me, has been a surprise-favorite from this trip. I knew his older brother and assumed the two would be similar, but they’re pretty distinct people. He brings a humor to this trip that no one else can replicate, and like his sulu, it’s special because it’s not the way everyone does it. He’s created his own flair even when he didn’t have to, and that’s how he is to me.

Iveta thought about something that I never would’ve (but really should start) – how a shirt lays over the sulu. It’s all fun and games whether you tie it starting on the left or starting on the right or starting in the back, but it doesn’t end up really mattering unless you wear your shirt right. Iveta makes sure that the knot she ties is small enough that the untrained eye can’t see anything under her shirt, just like the unfamiliar eye might not realize that she’s a thoroughly talented gymnast. Whether she covers it with her shirt or not, it’s always there, and her poise and intentionality is to be admired.

Nickie ends up with the same result as the rest of us, but starts with equal amounts of fabric on her left and her right. She takes both edges and tucks them in, and it’s simple and intelligent and usually unseen. So is the work she does for this class and this community, which she’s usually also in the middle of. If there’s someone who needs to take care of something, it’s Nickie. I trust her to tell me how to tie a good sulu, and I trust her to tell me how to grow into the person I want to be.

Sophia’s sulu method “varies based on the situation.” I’m pretty sure that at some point in this trip, she’s tried every single one of these ways to tie her sulu, and that she now chooses one each morning based on the position she woke up in, or something equally amusing. She brings a levity to the trip and a face that I’ve known the longest. I can only hope that everyone in this group is able to know Sophia as well and as long as I have. She’s a joy, like her sulu patterns, and a mystery, like how she chooses to tie them.

I tie my sulu the way my Nene taught me, with a snug square knot on the side joining one end’s corner and the other’s side, and a swoopy tuck of the remainder into my waist. I tie my sulu the way my Momo taught me, with smiles and a brief greeting at the start and end of each day. I tie my sulu the way my father taught me, with intention and strategy and care and firmness. I tie my sulu the way my mother taught me, with excitement and laughter and a zest for life, with thought and effort and analysis, with love and joy tucked into my waist. My sulu doesn’t fall down anymore.