One of the greatest joys of traveling is that sometimes you set out to discover a place, and instead, you discover a person.

I first met Aziz while wandering around the common area of the lodge looking for my host, Niu. I needed a power converter for my room but could not find him anywhere. Instead, this gentleman emerged from the kitchen and asked what the problem was.

As it turned out, he was not part of the staff at all. He was another guest, albeit a long-term one. He called Niu, tracked down a converter, and solved my problem within minutes.

That was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Aziz is from Peshawar, Pakistan, and is in Tuvalu for a year, working on a UNDP project. Before this, he had spent time in the Solomon Islands on another UNDP assignment. He looks at least ten years younger than he is and carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who is perfectly comfortable wherever life takes him.

Over the next few days, we found ourselves talking often. We spoke about his family and his two children back home. But what really connected us were two shared passions: music and books.

On my last evening, we sat by the water talking about qawwalis. We wandered through the music of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, and the Sabri Brothers. Aziz, of course, understood every word of the Urdu lyrics and patiently explained the meanings that had escaped me for years. Had the island’s internet been a little more cooperative, we would probably have spent the evening listening to them on YouTube.

Books were our other common language.

He had often seen me sitting by the water reading.

“If you finish the book, leave it for me,” he had said.

I never did finish it. But before leaving, I handed him the other three books I had brought with me. Somehow, that felt like the right goodbye.

What fascinated me most about Aziz was the life he had built for himself.

He enjoys his own company. On moonless nights, he heads to the edge of the island to photograph the Milky Way. The pictures he showed me were breathtaking. He loses himself in books and music, helps guests around the lodge without ever being asked, and more than once offered to cook a meal for me.

Three evenings a week, he heads to the local bar to play pool with his island friends.

“And who is your best friend here?” I asked him.

“The scooter,” he replied without missing a beat.

I laughed.

As I left Tuvalu, I realized I was taking home far more than photographs and memories of a remote Pacific island.

I was taking home the memory of an unexpected friendship. Sometimes the people we meet for only a few days leave footprints that last a lifetime!

One of the unexpected joys of spending four days on a remote island like Tuvalu was getting to know my host, Niu.

He is barely in his late twenties, yet carries himself with a quiet maturity. He now runs the family lodge that his father started. The lodge is called NiuEti, named after Niu and his younger brother, Eti, who passed away at a very young age.

Life had more challenges in store for the family.

A few years later, Niu’s father, who is younger than I am, developed kidney failure. In Tuvalu, there is no dialysis beyond basic support, and certainly no possibility of a kidney transplant. Niu did not hesitate. He volunteered to be the donor, and fortunately, he turned out to be a match.

Finding a hospital was the next challenge. Even Fiji does not perform kidney transplants.

Eventually, father and son found themselves headed to New Delhi, to Fortis Hospital. But fate intervened once again. They had traveled to Fiji for preliminary tests before flying to India when COVID shut the world down. They ended up stranded in Fiji for two years. Thankfully, Fiji at least had dialysis centers that kept his father alive until they could finally make the journey to India.

Later, I had the pleasure of meeting Niu’s father. He could not stop talking about India.

“What do you remember the most?” I asked.

“The cars honking on the streets,” he said with a broad smile.

We all laughed.

Here I was marveling at the rooster crowing and the pig squealing in Tuvalu. And he was marveling at the cars honking in India!!

Over the next few days, the three of us had many conversations, ranging from life to business. One mystery was finally solved. I had always wondered why they had never asked me for a deposit when I booked my stay.
The answer was remarkably simple.

There was no practical way for me to send them money, and no practical way for them to receive it.

In Tuvalu, cash is the only way to do any business. And not Tuvalu dollars. Tuvalu has some coins, but they cannot afford to make paper money. So, they use Australian Dollars.

NiuEti Lodge receives some of the highest reviews online. Of course, everything is relative. Most visitors to Tuvalu are seasoned travelers who know that luxury is not the point of coming here. But what Niu offers cannot be measured by thread counts or room service. He is unfailingly kind, always ready to cook a meal at odd hours, help a guest solve a problem, or simply sit down for a conversation.

As I left, we promised to stay in touch.

The only practical way, of course, is through the lodge’s reservation email.

Some people leave you impressed by what they have accomplished.

Others leave you inspired by who they have become.

Niu belongs firmly in the second group.