It’s a dirty job, but someone has to eat the pig’s head.

There are bits missing from inside this pig’s skull. I do not want to know where they went.

The ‘Cook Islands fork’ in action.

An action song is always a crowd favourite.

A young dancer puts on his game face.

Orama dance group performs for Bishop O’Connell.

The children of the congregation display their dancing skills.

There are several advantages to being a journalist. And if you give me a minute, I’m sure I can come up with one of them.

Oh, yeah: sometimes the assignment comes with food. 

As one of my Cook Islands Herald workmates says: Never say no to free food. As one of my brothers says: Free just tastes better. Of course, he was talking about beer at the time, but I’m assuming his theory holds true for most anything you put in your mouth. 

So, yeah, sometimes there is such a thing as a free lunch, although in my 20-plus years in the newspaper business, they have been rare. Oh, sure, there was the annual Cloverdale Rodeo press conference where the promoters put on a spread, but you had to be quick out of the gate to the buffet table to beat the radio guys and the sales guys and the city slickers from the daily papers who wouldn’t know a steer if it gored them in the expense account.

It’s different here in the Cook Islands. Someone wise and beautiful and very close to my heart once told me the best way to ensure Cook Islanders show up for a meeting is to tell them there will be kaikai (food) served afterwards. I’m guessing that works for most people, including me, in most any country you’d care to name. On numerous occasions I’ve endured boring social gatherings because someone said there’d be cake later. Mention pecan pie and I’ll not only show up, I may very well move in. 

I scored food big-time last week. Two days in a row, Jeane and I went to the Infrastructure Sector Forum to gather interviews for our Turama TV program. We had to show up during the lunch break because that was the only time people were available to talk. But first they had to eat. And, since we had to wait anyway, we were invited to eat as well. It would have seemed positively impolite not to partake. 

I did mention we went two days in a row, right? Sometimes you just have to go the extra mile to ensure you get everyone’s opinion. It’s called balanced reporting. It’s a dirty job but . . . well, you’ll have to finish that thought because I’m busy chewing. 

I didn’t eat as much on Day 2. Perhaps I was still full from breakfast. Perhaps I didn’t want to appear greedy. Perhaps it was the pig’s head on the food table. Upside down. With bits plucked out of it. Some days I forget I’m in a foreign country. This wasn’t one of those days. 

On Saturday, I attended the reception put on by the Catholic Church for Stuart O’Connell, the Bishop of Rarotonga. He was celebrating 50 years in the priesthood and there were speeches and gifts and entertainment, provided by one of the island’s cultural dance groups. 

And there was kaikai. But this time I did not elbow my way past the little old ladies to fill my plate. This time I hesitated. The food, you see, had sat outside through the ceremony and that always makes me a bit leery. The mayonnaise (as they call potato salad in the Cook Islands) looked particularly vulnerable to being out of the fridge for any length of time. 

But if anyone else was concerned about a future date with a stomach pump, you’d never know it. They dug right in, content to use their fingers (“Cook Islands forks” one local calls them) when utensils weren’t immediately available. 

When the reception was over, everyone went away full and content and happy. And, really, what more could you ask for out of life?