They were not just "indentured labour," they were our *girmitiya* forefathers, brought to Fiji under false promises to work sugarcane. "Coolie" was the coloniser's word, stripping their names and dignity. My *ajah* carried that word like a scar, but he built our home here with his hands. So when I weigh rice in my shop, I remember he weighed cane, and that word dies with me. We are *girmit* descendants, not coolies.

The 10 percent law says only about 10% of the energy moves between trophic levels. So, if rice plants capture 10,000 units of sun energy, the insects eating them might get 1,000, and the sparrow eating those insects only 100. But in our jhum fields here, I've measured transfer closer to 5 or 7 percent when the soil is tired—suppliers hike prices for fertilizer, and the land holds less life, just like my father's store struggles when costs rise.

Late start here in Nagaland, ashe? The store’s old radio is crackling with the match, but I can hear the rain starting on our tin roof too. I was just mending a strap on a schoolbag, thinking how the players must wish for this cool rain in Melbourne’s heat.