Pio Bosco Autobiography

Emperor Bosco
The Man from the Friendly Isles
I’m a rugby follower with two eyes, two hands, and two feet
I’ve found a player made just like that, but his two remain complete
His eyes are bright, his hands stick fast and his feet go quick quick slow
I can’t call him King because of Barry John, so I’ll call him the Emperor Bosco
He plays for the famous Harlequins, wears their multi-coloured No. 10
Like J.P.R. he can’t drop the ball, and he knows how to pass and when
He’s the best catcher for the season, this man with the sticky fingers
He’s a link they’ll miss, not the missing link, one hinge on which Harlequins hinges
His sunshine play lights up many a day, this Emperor with toothpaste smiles
He’s a big man – but small, fair – but dark, the man from the friendly isles
I’m sorry to hear he’s returning next year to do what man’s got to do
So will you thank him from this Rugby Follower, who hopes he’ll remember us
happily too?
The Harlequins Rugby Follower.1975 London, UK.
3

About
Pio Bosco Tikoisuva – Legendary Fiji rugby player, captain,
coach, manager, chief executive, diplomat, friend
and family man.
Pio Bosco Tikoisuva or as he was and still is referred to
by his English Fans as “Emperor Bosco” was born on the
beautiful Garden Island of Taveuni, Fiji in 1947.
Bosco, as most people call him, won his first test against
Tonga in 1968 at the age of 21.
About
In 2007, he was appointed as the manager of the Fiji Rugby Team “The Flying Fijians” to the
2007 Rugby World cup in France. In addition, he also managed the Flying Fijians again in 2011
in New Zealand.
In March of 2008, he was appointed as Fijis London based High Commissioner to the United
Kingdom, a post he held up until 2011.
Now retired Bosco, the father of four lives in Suva with his lovely wife Sainiana……
He later moved to London in 1973 on a 3year printing
course and found himself debuting for the British Rugby
team, Harlequins after an outstanding 14 match tour
on the wing for Fiji in its United Kingdom tour of 1973.
He returned to Fiji in 1976 once the printing course had
ended.
Bosco was the first player of colour to play for the Quins. In his stint with the club, he earned
himself rave reviews in the English media with Harlequins and won three invitations to play for the
Barbarians against East Midlands, Leicester, and France. Bosco was very popular with the Quins
fans, one of them even wrote a short poem about him.
Bosco retired from national duties in 1979, having played 19 tests for Fiji between 1968 and 1979.
Although retired from test rugby he continued to play for St John Marist Rugby Club up until the
mid 1980s. Bosco was the face of the then St John Marist Club throughout the 1970s. He is credited
with the creation of the St. John Marist Seven’s tournament (now called the Marist 7s). Having
played Sevens in England during his stint with the Quins, he suggested seven’s to George Reade,
the “father” of the club, as a possible solution to keeping the boys’ occupied playing rugby during
the off season. The first Marist Seven’s Tournament was held in 1977. Now in its #### year, it is
still considered the Premier Sevens Tournament in Fiji. A bar at the Marist Rugby Club was named
Bosco’s Bar in his honour.
Perhaps the single moment that is most associated with Bosco was when he captained Fiji to a 25
- 21 win over the British Lions in 1977. Playing in front of 20,000 fans at Buckhurst Park, Fiji. A
spectacular running game the Fijians that Lions Coach Jon Dawes described it as a “magnificent
performance”.
Bosco then went on to mange and coach the victorious Fijian team in the Hong Kong Sevens in
1978 for the second time in a row.
He retired from International Rugby in 1979 and from domestic rugby in the mid 80s.
Bosco was appointed as the first professional Chief Executive Officer of the Fiji Rugby Union in
2001, a post he held for four years.
Picture By Foreign and Commonwealth Office

Preface
It is often said that “Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get next
or end up with” I’d like to think/believe that this is the way I chose to live my life. A series of
random events, moments and difficult decisions and most importantly the support of so many of
you that made me the man that I am today.
A Happy and Blessed Fijian Man.
I am happy because I got to share rugby fields, sweat, blood and tears with some of the greatest
men who have ever played the sport. A sport that many have come to know as “The hooligans
game played by gentlemen”
Our joyful way of playing gave the rest of the world a taste of this marvellous sport and what a tiny
island in the south pacific was capable of. In that time, we had a real passion for rugby - a passion
that seemed to be passed on in the genes, as children are born with the love for this game already
embedded into their hearts.
Preface
As players we get to befriend players from other clubs and nations. Real Friends. We are often
invited to their homes, we get to know their families and we are constantly searching for ways
of improving rugby as a whole. The ambition should always be to play the beautiful game played
in heaven, because from that nucleus emerges and example that reaches everyone, in Fiji and the
world. This is what counts.
I hope that this book, in which I talk about my life, might at some points serve as an example of
what Rugby has done for me, of what it means to me, and a demonstration of the fact that if you
want to succeed, you have to know how to face the challenge of sport and of life and that is knowing
how to lose but learning to never give up at all costs because you will also find victory.
Pio “The Emperor Bosco” Tikoisuva
( Insert Date )
From a boy who played barefoot with a ball made out of coconuts or empty plastic bottles wrapped
in cello tape who later moved on to play with a professional ball, wearing professional rugby boots,
sharing professional rugby fields and creating rugby history with an unknown team. I have been
truly blessed to see the world, bumped heads with famous sports stars, I’ve met great and wonderful
people, supporters and families. I have met Presidents and Prime Ministers of the world and I
have even shared laughter and great moments with Royalty. Who knew a boy from the village, a dot
in the Pacific Ocean would be flying so high and taking on the world.
The memories I have made, I will never forget, from high school, domestic clubs in the villages
as well as in the city areas right onto the national squad. Our time was a our one, innocent, almost
rough and ready, in the sense of the simplicity which was within our reach, before technology invaded
our lives. There was nothing modern in our days. From our jerseys right down to our boots,
everything had to be earned and was from your own pockets, nothing was handed to us for free.
Which is why looking back now, the word “Passion” come to mind. Passion in the sense that Every
player knew running onto that field every stitch on our thread was a part of us, our family, our
friends and sacrifices. Again I must acknowledge the privilege I felt in being able to play with them,
my friends and team-mates, in so many of our greatest victories.
When you play rugby the game does not end on the pitch after the final whistle but onto the bar
with some banter until the next week. This is where we find ourselves gravitating to other rugby
players socially.
Rugby will always be special to me, you play with a group of young men, a bunch of strangers at
first but remain friends, brothers for life. Men who understand that this sport can not be played
alone, but rather as a unified team with a lot of harmony and magic amongst teammates, where
every pass, kick, scrum etc is just as important as the try. When all of this is choreographed
well…………..

Acknowledgement
Introduction

Chapter 1
THE QELENI BOY
“..the unspoken challenge of the time was that no matter how heavy your burden was, you would
have to keep pushing yourself..”
When we get older we often look back at life like our favorite film, a film full of nostalgic
childhood moments. I regularly find myself returning to these moments not because I wish
to have an alternative scene or because I may have missed a part or two but because I want to feel
a few things in those times of innocence and mischief, twice.
I was born and brought up in the village of Qeleni, on the beautiful island of Taveuni, better
known as the Garden Island of Fiji. Taveuni is most famous for its Tagimocia flower ( Medinilla
waterhousei) a rare red and white flower that cannot be found anywhere else in the world and only
blooms between the months of October and February. The island of Taveuni is the most fertile
island amongst the whole of the 333 plus islands under the sun.
In the 19th Century navigators drew a line through the middle of Taveuni so that they could
establish an international dateline that would help them distinguish one day from another. Thus,
the island is forevermore geographically divided into two days and if you want to have a little bit
of fun or if you would like be at two places at once and even “time travel”, this is the place to be.
Looking back at my life for this book has revealed to me that it is here, In Qeleni, Taveuni, so too
with many places on the island that my upbringing and goals in life were being nurtured and I am
forever grateful off. It is here where I experienced happiness, sorrow, friendships, hardwork and
determination to do great things in life and to never give up. Here was a time when the discipline
was strong in Fijian households and this rubbed off on children like me where authority was unquestionably
respected and obeyed. It was also here where my love for rugby was born.
The Pio Bosco Tikoisuva Family
The Qeleni Boy
It has now been more than #### of years since I came into this world. My Journey has indeed
been a long and memorable one, memorable also in the sense that I can vividly remember everything
about it.
Life wasn’t exactly easy growing up in Qeleni, it wasn’t always rainbows and fairytales. There were
always mouths to feed and things to do before the day ended. I remember as a young boy during
my primary school days there was always something to do in and around the house. From an early
age I was undertaking physical responsilities. Each morning I had to get up extra early before everyone
else to walk to the river to fetch a bucket of water. Once I was back home I would then start
a fire for the river water which was now inside of a metallic kettle and placed on top of the fire to
boil. The boiled water was for tea at breakfast. Whilst the water was boiling, I would go around the
house to pick up dried breadfruit leaves that had fallen overnight from three huge breadfruit trees
that sat on the boundary of the school ground and our house.
After breakfast I would carry the bucket of food waste to feed the pigs. On my way I would stop
at a few houses to pick up their food waste or leftovers from the previous day. The pig sty was
located in the coconut plantations beside the village and it is fenced in. I would go and feed them
while within this fenced area. After they had eaten I would open the gate and let them roam the
mangroves and land area around the village usually about two miles out digging and eating for the
whole day. Locking the gate I would then head straight to the river for a bath and then home for
breakfast before making my way to school.
In the late afternoon, usually after school I would again go and feed the pigs at their designated
fenced area. However, sometimes when I got there, the pigs were still off wandering the land. Instead
of going out to call for them there was a much simpler solution; a “bell” usually an iron rod
or in most cases the tire steel rims which hung by the gate of the fence. I would ring this bell and
amazingly enough, once the sounds of the bell rang out, signaling feeding time, the pigs and piglets
would come running back directly into the fenced area. When they were all in the sty and locked
in, i would feed them.
This was the daily norm in my school days during the weekdays. Saturdays was mainly for the plantation,
which is about a couple of miles walk into the forest/bush for weeding, planting, harvesting
and carrying of root crops back home. A full day’s work.
One of the hardest and challenging things to do when heading home from the plantation at the end
of the day was carrying the harvest for Sunday lunch and for most of the days of the week. This
was the start of the resolve not to give in.

The Qeleni Boy
The Qeleni Boy
The Pio Bosco Tikoisuva Family
can clearly remember that along the path to and from the plantation there were a couple of huge
I trees including a mango tree that acted as the resting place for the journey and if you had taken
a break(s) before reaching these stops you would have been perceived as weak. So the unspoken
challenge of the time was that no matter how heavy your burden was, you would have to keep
pushing yourself until you got to the accepted resting place where you could finally take a short
break before carrying on again. There were ways whereby you can change the sitting arrangements
of the load on your shoulders to relieve the pain from one shoulder to the other without having
to stop every so often.
Additionally, what I love about our village is that it has a fast flowing river right beside it and along
the river there are two deep and wide pools where everyone enjoyed a good dip and swim. I smile
saying this because thinking back to a three-year-old me, not yet old enough to start school yet full
of adventure in my bones, I was very cheeky/playful. I along with other three years olds would be
out in the river swimming right after breakfast. When it got cold, we could be seen sitting or lying
on big rocks beside the river sun bathing ourselves before dipping in the water again. Oh such
good times.
We only returned home for lunch and were back at it again in the river after a short rest period.
These swimming episode were not usually supervised, but, I could not recall any fatal accident or
injury at all. And if ever there were any injuries, the Healthcare in the old rural Fiji was a distance
affair. Medical/Health Centers were non-existent, the hospital far away and public transport was
not as regular, let alone available as it is today. Nevertheless, the lifestyle of the people living off
nature and fresh food from the land and sea was the “doctor of the time”, so to speak.
Looking back at my life for this book, I can see that those of my generation and before and slightly
after were of very strong characters because of our village upbringing. It (Fijian villages) is where
the heart of this beautiful nation still beats the strongest.
My Father and Mother
My father, Ratu Samuela Matana, was a school teacher and literally taught at my village-of-birth
school, Wainikeli District School, throughout his career. He was a very well respected man
in the village since he belonged to the chiefly clan of Ratu Waqairapoa, who started the village of
Qeleni after the local war between Cakaudrove and Ma’afu of Tonga at the Wairiki Catholic School
in 1864. One account reports about this war was that a Marist priest provided the Fijians a fighting
strategy that helped them win – their weapon, a small cross. After the battle, some of the defeated
Tongans ended up in the Fijian Lovo and it was also around this time that many Fijians converted
to Catholicism believing the cross to have been their savior. The giant cross at Wairiki Catholic
mission watching over the battleground serves as reminder of this.
My Father ran a small canteen shop, the only one in the village and it served the village well. This
service allowed villagers to avoid walking about two miles both directions to the nearest Chinese
shops for basic food and household items. His fortune, if one can call it that, came from the copra
trade.
Outside our house was a long stone arranged drive-way which was about 200 meters or so from the
edge of the village to the garage.
Inside this garage my dad housed two vehicles, a broken –down truck and a car that I never saw him
drive once. Come to think about it, my brothers, sisters and myself never really did ask what all of
this was about out of the respect we had for him or maybe because we weren’t sure if we’d understand
his reasons behind it. Everything at that age functioned around the foundations of respect.
My Father had a full time driver who literally lived with us, the family. This was the car that took
us to the Wairiki Catholic Primary School, a boarding school 19 miles away, in the beginning of
school terms and back again at the end of the term. While others took the public transport, we
were very privileged. My sisters, brothers and I were more fortunate than most children in our village.
Our father had a business-mind, unfortunately however, this gift was never inherited by any
of us, especially me.
MAYBE HAVE SMALL STORY ON MOTHER OR ADVICE

The Qeleni Boy
The Qeleni Boy
My Father and Mother
At that time, in most village settings, we based our time (AM/PM) off when the sun rises and
when the sun set. Having wall clocks and/or table top clocks were rare in Fijian villages, let
alone watches.
In my village of Qeleni the only wall clock was the one that hung on my father’s bedroom wall.
My father, knowingly, hung this clock with Roman numerals on the wall directly opposite his door
leading outside.
He always kept his door open so that at any time during the day, if anyone wished to know the
time, he/she, could see it from just walking past the door. At one time a young gentleman, Dovia,
wanting to know the time walked by the house and looked at the clock, only this time he noticed a
‘watch’ hanging beside the big wall clock. Without asking my dad about it, he quickly went around
the village telling others that my father’s wall clock had given birth and there was also a baby clock
in our house.
This clock also played another role in village of Qeleni at the time, in co-ordination with a short
gun which my father owned, and that was to announce to the whole village that the New Year had
come.
At exactly 12 O’clock midnight on 31st December, my father would trigger off shots in the air
from his gun to announce to the village that New Year had arrived. Simultaneously, the whole village
would start the beating of empty tins and drums and pour water on each other, white flour
on the face & hair, a trend that continued for at least two months. This was the celebration of the
arrival of a New Year, all over the country in Fijian (iTaukei) villages and communities.
My father had three brothers and one sister. Their only sister, Adi Palu had only one son whose
father hailed from Korovou, Bouma on Taveuni. The son’s name is Pio Buisena Rasau. Pio Rasau
was a soldier in the Fiji Military Force that was part in the Second World War in Malaya. After the
war he was in Suva in 1947 when I was born and I was named after him, Pio. Since he was staying
in Suva, my surname is thus, Tikoisuva; when literally translated in English it means ‘living or staying
in Suva’.
My Father and Mother
The sister-brother bond never wavered from those years till now because we literally saw each
other every day until we started our different periods of education. In my new family, I had an
adopted brother, Isikeli Turaganivalu, who was the son of my namesake’s wife. She was from the
chiefly island of Bau and had a son from the Kubuabola family from the chiefly village of Somosomo
in Taveuni. We literally became brothers and remained so for life.
Young Rugby Player
In the 1950s, schools that were dominated by Fijian/itaukei students didn’t really have a choice
in what sport they wanted to be a part of. Young boys attending these schools in Fiji only ever
knew one sport, a sport which had scheduled competitions and that was Rugby.
At the age of six, I attended the Wainikeli District School at my village of Qeleni in the island of
Taveuni. I was in the under six team for my school and played my first competitive rugby match
against the Bouma Village School under-six team in 1953.
In order for me and my team to travel to Bouma we had to walk since the road only ended about
two miles away from Qeleni Village. The walk usually takes about two to three hours; Imagine a
bunch of six years olds walking inland then along the beach and we would swim/walk across a
river depending on the tide. Once back on land we would then walk inland again which was parallel
to the beach and directly to the village school to play. After the game we came back again on the
same route.
Despite the long hours these trips were always memorable. One such memory that I have apart
from being the youngest of the team was the parental knowledge of what could help improve ones’
performance on the field. My father, Ratu Samuela Matana, as we were leaving the village came to
me with a pack of chewing gum, gave it to me and advised that I chew these as I ran on the field,
with the added advice that it would help me play well for the whole duration of the game. Much
later down the years I came to find out that chewing while playing can be dangerous, even today,
the chances of biting your own tongue is highly likely.
Two years later Pio returned to Qeleni where my family was. I was two years old. My namesake
asked his uncle, my father, if he could adopt me. In such traditionally connected family, there were
no adoption papers needed, just a nod of the head and that was in order. I was brought up the rest
of my life with my cousin and namesake living in a house which was just about 200 meters from my
parents house. I was therefore the odd one out, being brought up in another household.

The Qeleni Boy
The Qeleni Boy
The Ankle Injury
Pictures
At the same school, Wainikeli District School, though rugby was the competitive sport, we
usually tried out our soccer skills sometimes during the end of a school day. This free-for-all
session did not discriminate age nor size so you got to choose whichever side you wanted to play
on and there was no limit as to the number of players in one team. Of course, I joined and on one
of these sessions, as one of the bigger boys of the opposing team was dribbling the ball towards
our half, I ran up to him to challenge for the ball and as I got there he attempted to avoid me by
tapping the ball slightly to one side. When he saw me coming at it, he swung his leg to kick the ball,
we both kicked at the same time. Unfortunately, we both missed the ball and we kicked each other
instead. He was much bigger than me hence, the moment our legs connected I automatically felt
a sharp pain come from my feet, I was the victim with a sprained ankle. I sat down with a swollen
ankle and I had to be carried about 500 yards to where my father was sitting down in front of his
shop. My father quickly sent for the local masseur, he came and tried his best to get the swelling
down. This sprained ankle eventually stayed with me throughout my rugby career.
I had to strap it at training and during the game. I trained in the afternoon, got home and that evening
I had a swollen ankle, but this never stopped me from attending training session the very next
day. I suppose it was a matter of getting used to it. In sports especially a contact sport like rugby,
injuries are bound to happen, and as frustrating as they are to have, you can’t let them get the best
of you especially mentally. I did not let this injury be a permanent setback nor an excuse to stop
training but rather I used it as a gift to train harder and be better. Reflecting on this incident and
the fact that I never did let injuries discourage me from playing the game that I love so much was
a blessing; in the sense that, even though I suffered along the years of playing rugby progressively
up into the national representations, I did not let it defeat me.
PICTURES for chapter 1 story
Later in life, when married, after a weekend of rugby id wake up on Sunday mornings with pains
in my shoulders and other muscles on my body and I would often ask the wife to give me a body
massage as part of my recovery. She, being the loving wife that she is would always hint at me to
rest the next game. I would always tell her that the only time I’d never run on to a rugby field is if I
had a broken leg. No other injury would hinder me from playing. It was crazy, stubborn and gutsy.
Now that I think about it, it is this type of mindset that made my rugby experience different from
many people that I know.

Chapter 2
First Love
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
“…my whole life seems so surreal. I didn’t just turn up on the doorstep playing rugby; I had to
go through a whole lot of things to get there. “ Jonah Lomu
From a very young age I was always crazy in love with rugby. I remember that everywhere I
looked, whether it was in the school grounds playing with my friends or the backyard or the
beach, rugby was all round me. This passion remained with me throughout my rugby days. Well,
before I started to look at women and had a sense of love that is. This came to being when I met
my girlfriend, who later become my wife, Sainiana Coalala.
I can still recollect the night I proposed to her, and when she jubilantly said “Yes”. A short while
after, as she was still caught up in the moment I said to her; ‘you are however my second love’ This
news ofcourse came as a surprise to her and with a sense of shock in her voice she replied; ‘what do
you mean?’ questioned in a suspecting tone that there was another woman in my life. I responded;
‘my first love is Rugby, well before I met you I fell in love with rugby.’ still not convinced, ‘What do
you mean’, she said. I replied, ‘I am just telling you now so that you are aware of this and that you
do not interfere with my rugby. If you do it can affect our relationship.’ We talked about this over
and a short while later she accepted this. She has always stuck by me and supported me throughout
my rugby career. I fully acknowledged and appreciated the true support she gave me. This true support
has had a truly positive impact on my rugby success giving me a layer of strength and courage.
The Rugby Name: Bosco
After my naming as Pio Tikoisuva, my father Ratu Samuela Matana and my mother, Mareta
Roko, also known as Adi Roko Maiwiriwiri, took me for baptism at Wairiki Catholic Church,
19 miles away. I learnt later that the Parish priest at the time suggested that my Christian name
or baptismal name be “Bosco”, named after St John Bosco of Turin, Italy. St John Bosco was the
founder of the Saletian Family who continues his work in caring for young people who are poor
and in trouble.
This baptismal name of Bosco was a blessing that eventuated quite vividly in the rugby scenario
both in Fiji and UK in the 1970s and also Tonga. The name tends to attract media reporters more
than Pio, my first name. Yet, again, I came to know very late in my life that Pio is also a very famous
name in the Catholic family. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina, Italy had become one of the saints whose
intercession is most called upon till to date. With these two very holy namesakes I wish I can also
portray a fraction of resemblance in my lifestyle on and off the field.
Being of very strong catholic faith my family and i were involved with the works of the St Vincent
de Paul Society in Suva, Fiji for 10 years before I took up the diplomatic posting in London, UK
in 2008. My wife was an active member of the society at the Holy Eucharist Parish in Laucala Bay,
and through her the whole family decided to support her work. We involved our children and later,
our grandchildren also, with the hope they too can learn about the goodness of caring for the less
privileged people and most importantly the Fear of God.

The Rugby Name: Bosco
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
There is nothing more humbling than someone who goes out of their way to make life beautiful
for others that are less fortunate in our society. Apart from the monthly support to identify
disadvantaged families, in terms of food and children’s school fees, we were active in feeding the
street kids of Suva city on Sundays. When we began this programme in 1980s we literally walked
the streets of Suva looking for these street kids. About six years later, there was a spot in the middle
of the city of Suva that they all gather before our time of arrival, 5.30pm just in front of Caines
Jannif shop adjacent to the popular Ivi Tree Triangle. As soon as our car parked, they came lining
up and we dished the food parcels. It made our job a lot easier. I enjoyed doing this and took great
pride in giving my time to see the smiles on the faces of these disadvantaged people when receiving
the food etc. It was through this willingness to help others that we found our joy, especially during
Christmas time ever year. We would make Christmas packs of groceries and take them to disadvantaged
families to make their Christmas a joyous one. Id like to think that my names “Pio Bosco”
definitely has always had a part in my spiritual journey in helping those around me.
Bosco’s Recipe for Success
When it came to my education I wasn’t really a “Top A” student, actually I was more of a
below average pupil in terms of school achievement. My final year in Primary school I did
however managed to pass my Secondary Schools Entrance Examination and was lucky enough to
be accepted in St John’s College, Cawaci, on the Island of Ovalau. Quite a distance from my island
of Taveuni let alone my village of Qeleni. I am indebted to my dad, Ratu Samuela Matana and
namesake, Pio Buisena for pushing me in pursuing my education.
I spent almost one full year of absence from home and remained in school over the two holiday
breaks in April and August. I only returned home for the Christmas holidays break.
In Form Four (4) I passed my Fiji Junior Certificate Examination, which entitled me to prepare for
the following two years for my final examinations, Senior Cambridge. The examination papers were
set and prepared in the United Kingdom. Fiji was then a British Colony.
I passed but, just about. I left secondary school at the age of 19.
It was not an easy road by any measure, but somehow I did not see it that way at that time. I took
it as it came and never felt let down by younger boys catching up with me and those that we started
together advancing ahead.
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
I have been asking myself; what brought this about?
First and foremost, it was how I was brought up at home and at boarding schools both primary
and secondary. My experiences after secondary school and Nukurua Forestry Station in Tailevu,
on the main island of Viti Levu, coupled with my passion for the sport of rugby union taught
me a lot.
These years had somewhat taught me, that I preferred doing things practically rather than just reading.
Surprisingly for me, rewards for excellence did not come easily and quickly, but It did come
eventually. I realized early that when we do things, we must do it out of love and not let the idea of
getting a reward consume us, rather we should enjoy the journey towards the rewards and in due
time it will come to you. If rewards were my motive then, I would have given up a long time ago.
The passion of preparing well, giving my best all the time and being totally committed to a task was
the immediate reward that I took pride of.
Just as one of the boys I was coaching at the St John’s Marist Rugby Club asked me once; “Do
I have a chance of playing for the Fiji National Rugby team?” I replied and said yes, he has the
chance but was to focus on the Fiji team alone may be the wrong step. I advised him to concentrate
on the immediate goals, and that was, to play well every time he played for his club. His consistent
performance shall be observed and this could give him a place at the provincial level team which
would bring him closer to his final goal. Goals must be progressive. Forgetting the medium goals is
a bad sign because it tends to take you away from the very gist of consistency. These are also true
in an individual’s life, like mine. In order to be successful at what you do, you will need to set goals
and plan well because without goals/aims you will not only lack focus but you will have no sense
of direction in life moving forward.
Reflecting on my progress in life as contained herewith, it is apparent that the things I have achieved
in life must have had some bearing on the lifestyle I lived and the resolve that I had to perform well
in whatever I did.
It augurs well with the instructions I used to render to my subordinates at work; “give it your very best
and be honest in what you are expected to do. Do not think about the rewards, for these shall come, if not tomorrow,
it may be next week, if not then, next month or next year but it shall come. But, if you cheat and be dishonest in
what you do then, the penalty shall come almost immediately.”
I did not only preach this pathway to life, but I lived it and I did reap the benefits right up to my
elderly age.
It was only when I reflected on those years did I feel a pinch of disappointment. Nevertheless,
reflecting on what I have achieved in my life, work and sports, I believe that I have done much more
than what my educational achievements has portrayed.

Atunaisa Camaibau: Boxing Heavyweight Champion of Fiji
At eight years old, I had my very first boxing match as one of the curtain raisers in a heavy
weight challenge between Atunaisa Camaibau and a heavyweight challenger boxer from Nadi.
My father’s car took us on the then long drive to near the southern end of the island of Taveuni
which took about three hours down the narrow gravel road. My boxing experience was quite an
experience. Even though I had a few training sessions from the heavyweight champion himself,
something that happened as I was in the ring, I did not expect because it came to me as a surprise;
the throwing of money (coins) in to the ring from the spectators. This unconsciously acted like
some sort of heavy weight belt around your neck, which forced you to keep on looking down at the
floor at the coins rather than at the punches that might be coming your way. After the fight, I was
told that the two of us, my opponent and i was doing the same thing. Hence, it was not boxing, it
was more like a swimming lesson on dry ground with head down and hands moving uncontrollably.
At that time, money, especially for kids was a no-no situation. We do not have any pocket money.
The only time we, if lucky had to handle money was on Sunday, for collection, as you go to church.
You might have been given one penny for collection at church. So one can understand why I spent
most of my time in the ring looking down at the number of coins on the floor, which were in the
numbers, I have never seen before. To be honest all these coins were so mesmerizing to me at the
time that I probably could not even feel any punches that might have landed on me that day.
Father’s Advice
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
My father would call family meetings every time when we, the children my brothers and sisters
were at home for the holidays. He would do so again before we were off to our different
secondary schools before the new school term commenced. He would advise us on his desire that
we should always aim to do our very best in school and to also do the same in whatever we aspired
to do in life. He did used to always emphasize on one fact and that was when the time came for him
to pass on into the afterlife, that no matter where we were, even if we were in school no one was
to leave to attend his funeral. He believed that even under such a condition we were never to miss
classes and fall behind on our studies, because in doing so, it would have an affect our education.
So it was, in my first year at St John’s College, Cawaci on Ovalau in 1962, during an evening study
period that I was summoned to go and see the principal, Father Foley. As I was walking across the
rugby ground to the priest’s residence to Fr Foley’s room, I had this strange gut feeling, a tingling
in my spine, as if someone was talking to me, telling me that my father had passed away. I did not
want to believe, I brushed off this feeling and kept on walking.
When I walked into Fr Foley’s room, he said that he had just received the sad news that my father
had passed away. It was as if the moment Fr Foleys words reached my ears, even my own spirit left
my body for a few seconds. I never knew that my father was sick, if I did this would have triggered
my feeling. Which probably explains why I was strangely calm even with tears were flowing down
my cheeks. I said nothing and walked back to my classroom.
Father’s Advice
Registration of Birth
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
After the study period, I went to my dormitory. Making my way to my bed, I noticed a rearrangement
of beds. The beds were shifted aside closer to mine and there were about five
students from the senior forms who had come to sleep beside me for the night. I suppose this was
a show of support in times of deep sorrow at the same time to look after my safety in case I lost it
that night. I did not intend to lose it.
My elder sisters were at the village. My eldest brother was at the Corpus Christi Teachers Training
College in Suva. He was conveniently located in terms of transport. He took the plane to Taveuni.
The Matei Airport in Taveuni is about six miles away from our village. My younger brothers, four
of them, were all in primary school in Wairiki Catholic Mission, in Taveuni, 19 miles away from
the village therefore it was convenient for them to attend the funeral gatherings. My father’s advice
from when we used to have family meetings during the holidays was very much still fresh in my
mind. Hence, I was the only member of the core family that did not attend my father’s funeral.
For consolation, I wrote to my namesake in the village to tell me what happened to my father, what
sickness, and how serious and how he actually passed.
As alluded to earlier, my dad’s father was from the village of Vitina/Rauriko in the district of
Dogotuki, province of Macuata in the second biggest island of Fiji called Vanua Levu.
Just before he died in 1962, he decided to travel to his village of Rauriko. His relatives in Rauriko
were very happy and accorded to their long lost son the traditional accolades reserved for traditional
chiefs. I was talking to a relative, Jope Waqa, from the village of Qeleni, who accompanied
my father to Rauriko and he was reminiscing about that trip. He said that every morning before
the sun rose, the villagers would be at their house preparing the traditional kava ceremony known
as the ‘Kolo ni Matanisiga’ in English it means; ‘object to throw at the sun’. My father would be lying
down on his bed and told Jope Waqa to accept, in the traditional manner, the offered kava and
drank as served. This was the practice every morning throughout their stay in Rauriko, about two
weeks. Not a very welcomed event for Jope Waqa but, respectfully he had to oblige.
My father died not long after he returned from his village.
As we were growing up, we had no clue at all about the sophisticated process of birth registration
nor did we know about our grandfather’s whereabouts and his family roots. We took it for granted
that we were born and bred in the village of Qeleni on the island of Taveuni, so we must be registered
as a native villager of Qeleni. Oh, how wrong we were. Our father registered us all under
his tribe and clan at Rauriko Village within the district of Dogotuki in the province of Macuata in
Vanua Levu.

Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
Bosco’s First Love – Rugby
Atunaisa Camaibau: Boxing Heavyweight Champion of Fiji
Pictures
It was not until 1971 that two old men, visited us, five of the brothers and our mother, at Rakoroi
Road in Raiwai, Suva. They introduced themselves, Samisoni Rani Niteni and Akeyai Timouta.
They are brothers. We are cousins. They came specifically to talk to us about our father’s visit to
Rauriko Village in 1962, they were both there. They revealed to us then that we were all registered
under the tribe or Yavusa Nasauvou in the village of Rauriko, District/Tikina of Dogotuki, and Province/Yasana
of Macuata on the island of Vanua Levu.
This news came at the right time also since none of us boys/brothers had been married or had
children. We had to register our children, when born, to the same tribe. We were all very excited
despite the fact we knew so little about our real village, but accepted and were glad that our late
father had done the right thing.
In 1972, all the six brothers decided to visit our real village for the first time. It was not an easy
journey. We took the plane from Nausori to Labasa, the main town center of Vanua Levu. We then
took a carrier to a small port and then a small boat along the coast heading towards Udu Point (the
northern point of Vanua Levu), up the Rauriko River to our village of Rauriko.
Our relatives were just as excited as we were and cared for us just as they had cared for our late
father. May he always rest in Love.
PICTURES for chapter 1 story

Chapter 3
Wairiki to Ovalau
Wairiki Primary School
Wairiki to Ovalau
In 1955, my father decided that I should change primary schools and so I was
transferred to Wairiki Catholic Mission Primary School, a boarding school which
was about 19 miles away from my village.
This meant that I would be away from home for up to three months per term and
would only come home during the two weeks break. The seven years I spent at this
primary school somewhat laid down the solid platform of my resolve to succeed
in whatever I put my mind behind despite the hardships expected along the way. It
was as the common terminology says; ‘survival of the fittest’.
“…the Fijian not only missed but instead kicked the bamboo post. What amazed me was the
fact that the Fijian did not even bend down to massage his bare feet, he just turned around and
ran back. I noticed a crack along the bamboo post caused by the kick.”
Rugby again featured prominently in the school’s sports calendar. There were two
other primary schools that formed the age grade annual rugby competitions and
they are:
Bucalevu Primary School; a government-based school and Niusawa Primary
School; a Methodist Church-run school.
Even at this young age, most if not all kids at these primary schools were rugby
crazy in terms of the choice of positions. Children did not have a say in positions
on the field, this was totally up to the teacher/coach. Students did not mind at all,
what mattered most was that they got to be part of the team, making friends and
going out to have a game. This therefore, forced me to play at the hooker position
in the Under-9 and later in Under-14 age group. I later reflected on this and I tend
to believe that being led to play in the forwards was due to my physique; not big
but stocky. Everybody was tough-looking at the time because of the life we lived
both at our home villages and boarding schools.
This reminded me of a late afternoon, after the usual everyday programme of
supervised swimming out in the ocean which included a space of time whereby it
was mandatory for the students to get out of the ocean, to sit on the sand and use
the sand to wash your body; somewhat like a soap and brush. It was after one of
these swimming sessions and on the walk back to our dormitory, that a lay catholic
brother who I walked past, remarked to a gentleman beside him; “sa na dua a gone
kaukauwa mai muri a gone qo’a” translated thus; “he will be a strong man when
he grows up”.

Wairiki to Ovalau
Wairiki to Ovalau
Wairiki Primary School
It’s remarkable how this observation in passing lingered in my mind not all the
time but only after retirement and while looking back at my rugby career, that I
recall it. I can still visualise where exactly this was said.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, it was as if this man had spoken my unknown
future into existence. Though I did not grow up to be a strong muscular man, I
did however grow up to be resilient and a successful man in the rugby field by Fijis
standards.
I can recall, some passers-by when my rugby team (St John’s Old Boys), Suva, players
were sitting down getting ready with no shirts to put on their rugby gear, they
noticed the physical built of the players on the team. Some of my friends even used
to ask me if I had been doing some weight training.
At that time having gymnasiums and ruggers doing weight training was non-existent
though there were a few places where weight lifters trained and this was only in
the capital city, Suva. Most of us rugby players of that era, grew up in the villages
and for us, physical work came very early in our lives. From an early age, some of
us barely three years of age and bare footed would accompany our fathers to the
plantations which usually was about one hour walk or more at times and up the
hills in certain places. When you returned to the village you would be carrying a
fairly heavy bag, basket or bundle of food item. This became the norm as you grew
up. The older you become the more the tasks you were expected to do and heavier
the weight you were allocated to carry. So it only made sense that ruggers in our
era had no need for going to the gym to do heavy lifting with plates and bars as
most of us grew up in the villages. We were basically doing weight lifting since we
were very young.
In 2006 when I was back in the Fiji Rugby Union (FRU) office, as manager of the
national rugby team for the 2007 Rugby World Cup in France, I was approached
by one of the FRU development officers. He asked me; “what is the difference
between the props in your era and the props today?” I replied that in our era, we
all grew up in the villages and outlined to him what I implied above about village
upbringing.
Wairiki Primary School
I
concluded that what this simply meant was by the time we were selected to represent
our country in rugby, most if not all of us had been doing about more
than 10 years of weight lifting, resulting in the toughness and solid physical built.
For the players of today, most grew up in the towns and cities and therefore needed
to go to the gymnasiums to upgrade their physical conditions. The village upbringing
played a big part in the ability to survive in difficult circumstances. So the will
to win came naturally by overcoming the difficulties we might have faced. When
the going gets tough, only the tough gets going, so to speak.
I left Wairiki in 1961 to travel even further to attend secondary school in the far
away island of Ovalau. The school is again a Catholic-run school which caters
mostly for catholic students from the whole of Fiji and also the Southern Pacific
regions of Tonga, Cook Islands, and Kiribati. It was and is still there today, it is St
John’s College, Cawaci. For those of us who came from the outer islands, the shipping
services were not as frequent as today, so we had to travel to Cawaci late January
or early February. We stayed at the school throughout the year and returned
home for the Christmas break in December.
The situation was not so much the ‘survival of the fittest’ encountered during my
primary school days, but it was still tough living and I brought that same mentality
into secondary school.
It usually took about a week to travel by boat from my island of Taveuni to Ovalau,
where my secondary school was located. This was not because of the slowness of
the vessels, but because of the numerous stoppages they normally did for the loading
of copra on the way to Suva. To pass time in our journey, kids like me usually
helped out with the ship’s crew in the loading of copra bags from land onto the
ship and later having a bit of swim in the sea. One of the memorable aspect of
these boat trips to school was the place where we put our luggage and where we
used to sleep. During the day our sleeping place was cleared out because they have
to open the vessel’s carriage to load the copra. In the evening the deck was closed,
and with tarpaulin mats and roofing, our sleeping space was again being prepared.
Not only did we have to prepare our sleeping place for the human passengers but
the ship also catered to livestock animals as well.