Stepping Stones to Greatness
By: Hosanna Kabakoro
The steamy temperature inside our beachfront house worsened as my mom pulled 2 large pans out of the hot oven. Setting them on the counter she commented, “These should make a nice profit for you, Leba.”
Leba was one of the local women mom was teaching to bake as a way to support herself. Although the businesses in town were seeing increasing numbers of tourists, they did not offer visitors breakfast pastries, pies or cookies. Tourists often complained, “Why can’t we get sweet rolls and coffee for breakfast?” Mom was teaching some of the local women to bake and sell their goods to the many shops, cafes and hotels around the island. That afternoon, the women were learning to make sticky buns with fresh mandarin icing.
Our home was 2 miles from the nearest village, and more than 2 hours by bus, down a gravel road, to one of Fiji’s most picturesque towns, Savusavu. Known as the “Hidden Paradise,” Savusavu is a seaside community, with quaint little shops and cafes that cater to the island’s Indian and Fijian populations.
My parents ran a free medical clinic and Early Childhood Education program for the people in Naweni, a village nestled right on the ocean. Due to political unrest since the 1987 coup d’etat, development to rural areas had ceased almost entirely, and it was up to people like my parents to provide much needed rural access to education and health.
Baking with the ladies that hot afternoon was just one of the ways we were able to help them help themselves. We learned as much from the women as they learned from us, and training sessions were filled with laughter and a deep sense of mutual respect.
The friendly camaraderie in the kitchen that afternoon, was suddenly broken by the roar of a tractor crashing through the fence that surrounded our property. Looking out the window, we saw a large group of men with machetes hacking away at our garden and fruit trees. Some of them began unrolling barbed-wire and placing it around our house.
When we rushed outside to see what was happening, a group of the men surrounded us and splashed kerosene on us, yelling, “Fiji is for Fijians! They shouted that they were taking over our land and house and that we had to leave immediately. My mother calmly offered the ringleader hot tea and freshly baked sticky rolls, which she served as I grabbed her keys, wallet and a few diapers for my baby sister. Leba just stared at my mom like she was crazy and muttered, “Why are you serving him our rolls?” ”Civility separates us from animals,” Mom responded.
As we pulled out of our driveway, some of the men danced around, brandishing their machetes and screaming obscenities.
Over the next two years, my family worked to start over. We had left everything we owned in the village, but friends helped us resettle in the capital city of Suva, where my parents started a language training center. When they had saved enough money, we relocated to Idaho, which is where I live now.
It took me a long time to heal. I had nightmares and often woke up plotting how I would someday get back at the men who had stolen our life.
One evening, as my mom and I discussed our, “old life,” and how much we missed Fiji, my mom challenged me with a statement I will never forget.
“Hosanna,” she said gently, “Do you remember when I told Leba that civility separates us from animals? Well honey, another thing that separates humans from animals is our capacity to accept and release forgiveness.”
I realized then, that I hadn’t forgiven those men. I had been harboring resentment and bitterness in my heart. I had stored up so much pain that every now and then, I could take it out and relive the day we lost our home.
“One thing that separates humans from animals is our capacity to accept and release forgiveness.”
That evening, I began acting like a human being. Every time I started to feel anger about having to leave Fiji, I said, “All things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His Purpose.” I pictured the faces of the men and asked God to give me His eyes and His heart for them. I asked Him to change my bitterness into understanding and compassion.
That was almost 3 years ago. Today, I realize that while God didn’t make those men act like they did, He had a higher purpose or me and my family. We have made a difference in our community here in Idaho, where we work with refugees and other immigrant groups. I had the privilege of serving as a U.S. Senate Page for the 110th Congress, where I met a young Senator named Barak Obama. I earned my Girl Scout Gold Award and was just named one of ten National Young Women of Distinction for my community service efforts. Last year, I was AWARDED A $30,000.00 Discover scholarship and flown to Washington D.C. where I was privileged to meet former First lady, Mrs. Laura Bush.
Currently, I intern at one of Idaho’s largest radio conglomerates, where I am learning to write and announce news. I write for our local newspaper and attend a wonderful college, where I major in communications.
Sometimes I ask myself where I would be if those men hadn’t stormed our property that day. I ask myself what would have happened to me had my mother not challenged me to let go and move on past the hurt and bitterness. What would I be doing with my life if bitterness and hatred were allowed to fester and grow in my heart?
Although that experience was the darkest time in my life, it was that awful sequence of events which landed me in Idaho! The coup in Fiji was the vehicle that transported me to a place where I could do more, dream bigger, and aim higher than I had ever thought possible! The ability to forgive, and be forgiven, is a powerful weapon against mediocrity, and a stepping stone to greatness.
“One thing that separates humans from animals is our capacity to accept and release forgiveness.”