Anaseini Waqavuki left everything she knew behind for one reason: her children. The 38-year-old Fijian mother moved to Australia eight years ago, enduring loneliness, grueling shifts, and the ache of separation, all to build a brighter tomorrow for Joshua, Salote, and their younger sibling back in the village of Nakini, Naitasiri. She sent money home religiously—school fees, clothes, food, dreams wrapped in every remittance. “She sacrificed everything,” her grieving mother Saini Rokowati says, voice breaking. “Anaseini wanted them to have what she never did.”

But on a quiet Sunday morning in December 2025, that future shattered. Anaseini was found stabbed to death in the kitchen of her Sydney home in Quakers Hill, alongside her new partner Epi Naitini. Her former partner, Anare Vunitabua, 47, has been charged with their murders in what authorities describe as a tragic case of domestic violence. Now, as Anaseini’s body is prepared for repatriation—not to Fiji, but to Perth for burial—her three orphaned children face an unimaginable heartbreak: they may not be able to attend their mother’s funeral.

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The family is locked in a desperate race against time, visas, and finances to bring the children—aged 17, 14, and 12—from Fiji to Australia. A GoFundMe campaign has been launched, pleading for help with flights, visas, and funeral costs. “These children have lost their mother in the most violent way,” the page reads. “Now they risk losing the chance to say goodbye.” As of early January 2026, donations are trickling in, but the ocean between them feels wider than ever.

Anaseini’s story is one shared by thousands of Pacific Island women who migrate for work, becoming the unseen pillars of their families. From the sugarcane fields of Fiji to the suburbs of Sydney, she embodied resilience. Friends remember her as warm, hardworking, always smiling despite the distance. She worked multiple jobs—cleaning, caregiving—saving every dollar for her kids’ education. “She had big dreams for them,” her mother told FBC News. “University, good jobs, a life without struggle.” Anaseini planned to bring them to Australia eventually, once stable. That dream died with her.

The tragedy unfolded on December 28, 2025. Police were called to Illabo Street in Quakers Hill after reports of a disturbance. Inside, they found Anaseini and Epi with multiple stab wounds. Both were declared dead at the scene. Vunitabua, also Fijian, was arrested nearby and charged with two counts of murder. Court documents reveal a history known to police—prior domestic incidents that advocates say highlight systemic failures in protecting women from abusive partners.

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Anaseini becomes the 73rd woman killed in Australia in 2025, part of a grim epidemic of family violence. Advocacy groups like Australian Femicide Watch have spotlighted her case, noting she is among many migrant women vulnerable due to isolation, visa dependencies, and cultural pressures to “keep family together.” Her death has sparked outrage in both Fijian and Australian communities, with calls for better support for overseas workers facing abuse.

Back in Nakini village, grief has enveloped the family home. Photos show relatives gathered in traditional mourning, faces etched with shock. Saini Rokowati, Anaseini’s mother, struggles to explain to grandchildren why their mum won’t call again. “My year without mum will start soon,” the eldest child reportedly said, words that pierce like knives. The village, nestled in Fiji’s lush highlands, feels worlds away from Sydney’s bustling streets—yet connected by remittances that sustained it.

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The decision to bury Anaseini in Perth adds another layer of pain. Family in Western Australia—perhaps cousins or extended kin—want her laid to rest there, close to community support. But for the children in Fiji, it means crossing borders during their deepest sorrow. Visas for minors require guardianship documents, passports (which some lack), and funds for flights from Nadi to Perth—thousands of dollars in a nation where average income is low.

The GoFundMe, organized by relative Georgina Bulewa, shares heartbreaking photos: Anaseini beaming with her kids on a rare visit home, the children now solemn in family portraits. “This is a heartbreaking reality for our family,” it states. Donations will cover repatriation adjustments, funeral expenses, and crucially, bringing the children over—even temporarily—to mourn. As of now, the campaign has raised a fraction of the goal, relying on shares across Fijian diaspora networks in Australia, New Zealand, and beyond.

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In Perth’s tight-knit Fijian community, preparations are underway. Churches plan services blending Christian hymns with iTaukei traditions—kava ceremonies, woven mats, tearful reguregu (condolence gatherings). But without the children, it feels incomplete. “A mother should have her babies at her side, even in goodbye,” one community elder said.

This tragedy underscores the hidden costs of migration. Many Fijian women work abroad under schemes like PALM (Pacific Australia Labour Mobility), sending home billions in remittances—vital to Fiji’s economy. Yet they face isolation, exploitation, and sometimes violence. Anaseini’s case echoes others: women killed far from home, children left orphaned across oceans.

Advocates demand change—better domestic violence protections for migrants, faster visa pathways for bereaved families, mental health support. “Anaseini was failed,” one activist posted. “Her children shouldn’t be failed too.”

As the funeral approaches, the world watches a family’s desperate plea. Will kindness bridge the distance? Will strangers’ donations reunite mother and children one last time?

Anaseini Waqavuki worked abroad for their future. Now, in death, her legacy fights to keep them together. Her story isn’t just tragedy—it’s a call to action, a reminder that behind every remittance is a mother’s unbreakable love.

In villages and cities alike, candles burn for Anaseini. For Joshua, Salote, and their sibling, the ocean waits—not as a barrier, but as a bridge yet to be crossed.

May her sacrifice not be in vain. May her children find their way home—to say goodbye, and perhaps, to begin healing.