Island of Hope

A pod of dolphins play in the bay as we hop off a small motorboat into knee-deep water. Back home, it is Thanksgiving, cold and gray, but here in Fiji, the air is windless and steamy. This country of tropical islands speckles the Pacific Ocean near the equator, several hours by plane from Australia and New Zealand.

After a 16-hour journey from Minneapolis and several days out at sea, I wade with shaking legs toward a sandy beach. Dozens of people in floral shirts sing and play guitars under a handmade sign that reads: "Welcome to Kiobo." Our boat traveled through the night to get us to this remote village. We are its first official tour group, and the villagers have spent weeks preparing for our visit.

A shy teenager named Lena greets me with a necklace made of flowers. She hands me a coconut with its top cut off so I can drink the juice. As my own family feasts on turkey and stuffing 5,500 miles away, I squint against the hazy sun and notice all the things that Kiobo (pronounced Kee-OHM-bo) doesn't have.