There are moments in public life when a single sentence exposes more than a thousand-page report ever could. We witnessed one such moment this week, when Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Tourism Viliame Gavoka stood in Parliament and, while defending Fiji Airways’ decision to slash catering costs, dropped a remark that should offend every Fijian who has ever paid good money for a plane ticket.
According to reports, Gavoka said most complaints about Fiji Airways’ food came from local travellers—and that tourists generally accepted the changes as part of the current operating environment for international airlines.
Let us pause and let that sink in.
The message is unmistakable: If the tourists aren’t complaining, why should we care what Fijians think? If our visitors—who spend at most a week or two here before departing—are satisfied with a dry bun and a cold sandwich, then surely we, who live here, who pay taxes here, who fly these routes year after year, should just quietly accept our lot.
Opposition MP Premila Kumar was right to question whether ordinary Fijians were effectively subsidising lower fares offered to overseas tourists. She highlighted that a return ticket from Nadi to Sydney is not cheap, and that for that kind of money, Fijians deserve more than a sandwich that would embarrass a school canteen.
But the deeper issue is not food. It is respect.
Gavoka’s defence of the airline’s cost-cutting—prioritising flight capacity over catering—is a legitimate operational argument. What is not legitimate is the casual dismissal of local voices. The implication that complaints from Fijians matter less because tourists—predominantly white, predominantly from wealthier nations—are supposedly fine with the status quo reeks of a colonial mindset in reverse.
It is the same thinking that tells us: Don’t rock the boat. The visitors are happy. Who are you to complain? The colonial mindset that continues to hold us back.
Yet here is the uncomfortable truth Mr. Gavoka and your Government: the money tourists spend is fleeting. A few thousand dollars for a holiday, then they are gone. But Fijians? We spend a lifetime in this economy. We pay taxes. We raise families. We fly these routes for funerals, for weddings, for medical emergencies. Our voice matters—not because we are louder, but because we are permanent.
This is not the first time this government has treated taxpayers as an afterthought. While we are asked to guarantee 6 million go up in smoke on a Commission of Inquiry that produced zero convictions, zero policy wins—only a High Court ruling that slapped it down for procedural illegality. And now, the Solicitor-General has reportedly been instructed to appeal that decision, yet another costly exercise with zero guaranteed returns.
Gavoka may not have intended to insult us taxpayers and voters. But when a leader stands in Parliament and essentially says, “The complaints are mostly from locals, so we’re not too worried,” he is telling us exactly where we rank in his hierarchy of concern.
We are not asking for first-class treatment. We are asking not to be treated as second-class citizens in our own country.
Our political leaders would do well to remember: tourists come and go. But we, the people, are here to stay. And we are watching.
Pasifika Talanoa by a traveled ITaukei Fijian 