My Island Home My Island Home

My Island Home
by Jim Bentley
FSPI Photo.
The moon was bright in the dark blue star studded sky above A’ana Atoll.
Tanu awoke to the gentle splashing of waves. The cool air had disturbed his
sleep. It was three o’clock in the morning.
Tanu, who recently turned ten, was on a small bed in the living room of his
home. His parents, Louisa and Manueli, were in one of the two bedrooms of
the weatherboard bungalow.
Tanu’s involuntary action was to feel for his blanket. His body needed cover.
But through his drowsiness came the realization that the lapping sounds of
the sea were closer than usual.
He sat up on the side of his bed. The murkiness in his mind persisted. But he
forced himself up and moved in the direction of the kitchen.
The atoll style cookhouse was built apart from the main structure at a slightly
lower level. A short walkway provided access.
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Tanu made his way down the two steps towards the kitchen. To his surprise
he was suddenly ankle deep in water. The cool sea swirled caressingly around
his feet.
Stepping down into the cookhouse he found that the floor boards were about
a foot below water level. Now fully alert Tanu was aware that the incoming
tide was higher than normal.
Their home about twenty metres from the seashore was usually above the
high water mark. Even during spring tides like this.
Gradually rising sea-levels endanger low lying islands
Semese Alifaio, TANGO Photo.
Tanu could feel the thick wet pandanus mat beneath his feet. “Mum will be
disappointed,” he thought. “She had spent days weaving it at the women’s
club.”
A bright shaft of moonlight beamed in through the door at the far end of the
kitchen. The cupboard, or safe as Louisa called it, was partially under water.
Tanu shuffled to the right side window of the small room. He propped the
shutter open with the piece of driftwood that had been there for years. The
additional moonlight slightly increased visibility in the room.
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Opening his mother’s cupboard, Tanu reached in and felt for the three large
glass containers on the bottom shelf. The encroaching sea had reached them
but they were securely sealed. The family’s supply of sugar, rice and flour was
stored in these jars. Carefully Tanu moved each one to the kitchen shelf. He
was pleased to see that the smaller jar of salt was already there.
Tanu called to his mother. Louisa was already in the lounge, awakened by
the unusual movement in the cookhouse. “What shall we do mother?” Tanu
asked. “I shall call your father,” replied Louisa. “Then we should move all of
our belongings in the lounge and bedrooms out of water’s reach. The tide is
still coming in and will continue to rise. Can you go across to Nana and Pa’s
place to check on them? ”
Thoughts of great concern rippled through Tanu’s young mind. He struggled
into a printed t-shirt which said “My Island Home” and stepped out into the
swirling tide.
Visibility was limited as Tanu moved toward his grandparents’ house
Semese Alifaio, TANGO Photo.
The water was almost at waist height and sand movement was strong. In the
moonlight he could see that debris littered the surface. Small coconuts, leaves,
pumice and driftwood moved in unison with the surging sea.
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Tanu stubbed his right foot on a large piece of coral. Fortunately he was not
cut. A kauiki crawled across his left foot. He wondered what would happen
to these long legged, sand coloured crabs. Kauikis live in holes in dry sand
and move across the beach at great speed. My friends and I have fun bowling
them over with baby coconuts. They are nice toasted over charcoal. Perhaps
the kauikis will disappear as the sea and its persistent forces claim our land.
The bewildered young islander continued wading towards his grandparents’
home about fourty metres away. He reached the front steps. The splashing
sea was about eight inches below the floor boards. “That is good,” thought
Tanu, “the sea has not penetrated Nana and Pa’s house.
Tanu climbed carefully to the third step and peered in. Despite the moonlight
he could not see well. The living area seemed dark and cavernous. He moved
further into the large room.
A strong hand grabbed his wrist. A gruff voice said, “Who is it and what do
you want?” Tanu called out, “It’s me Pa, Tanu!” “Oi,” said Pa releasing his
arm. “Tanu, why are you sneaking about?” “I am not sneaking Pa,” Tanu said
urgently. “Mum sent me to check on you and Nana. Our kitchen is flooded
and I came to see if you are alright.”
“The sea has not come into our home yet,” said Pa. “Our bungalow and
kitchen are higher than yours. But it is only a matter of time before it will.
I expect that our house will be invaded by the persistent sea during next
month’s springtide”.
Nana emerged from the bedroom and hugged Tanu. She said, “Tanu my
boy, it is time for you to leave our island home. It is time to make a new life
in another country. You need a proper education and a professional job. It is
time to abandon the old ways.”
“I would prefer to stay here with Mum and Dad and you and Pa, “Tanu said
sadly,” still clinging to his favourite senior relative. “What will happen to our
island Nana if all of the young people leave?” A lump seemed to form in
Tanu’s throat. Pa broke in and said, “You should not worry about our small
atoll, we will stay and take good care of it for all of our young people. You
can visit for holidays whenever you like. Your special home will always be
here.”
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The first streaks of dawn appeared in the moonlit sky next to the large yellow
moon. The heavy dark blue of night began to fade. “We can expect another
blistering hot day,” said Pa. We should go fishing early.”
Nana said, “I suppose that Maika the policeman will come around in his
aluminium dinghy and take me to the community hall. I would be happier
at home. Preparing food over there is not convenient. And taking a nap is
difficult. The children make so much noise.”
“Maika is doing his job as our policeman,” said Pa, “He is worried about
your welfare. You could slip and fall and damage your hip. No one would be
around to help you. When I am out fishing with Manueli and Tanu, I would
feel better if you were at the community hall.” “I could slip and fall in that
wobbly old dinghy Maika has,” Nana retorted. “He doesn’t seem to control
it very well.” Pa sighed and said, “Please go to the hall my dear. If you argue
with me we won’t catch many fish.”
Tanu went home to have breakfast with his Mum and Dad. A fire could
not be lit in the flooded cookhouse so it was a cold meal. Leftover fish and
breadfruit followed by green coconut juice.
They often had fresh toddy, but after climbing the family coconut tree
Tanu returned with only a small amount. Manueli told him to drink it. But
Tanu politely declined and gave it to his mother. “The coconut trees are not
producing much toddy liquid these days,” said Manueli, “it seems that the
abnormally high tides and the long dry spells are adversely affecting them.
This will seriously limit our vitamin and mineral intake.”
As the tide was high, Tanu decided to lay the fishnet directly in front of their
home. With one end fastened to a small breadfruit tree, he ran the net out in
a broad u-shape releasing it in folds from his dad’s small outrigger canoe.
Tanu fastened the other end to a stake in the sand some distance away.
Moving to the centre of the curved enclosure he commenced splashing with
his paddle to scare the fish into the net. It was then he realized that a five foot
hammerhead shark was within the boundary of the net with him.
The menacing grey beast swam at speed back and forth within the floating
net barrier. Not able to see a way out, it turned towards the small low lying
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canoe. “This shark is very angry and may attack me,” thought Tanu. The
streamlined creature kept moving towards the outrigger. It was too late to
paddle away. The frightened young man raised the paddle above his head.
The marauding shark came closer. Tanu swung the wooden weapon with
all of his might. The sharp edge of the oar struck the hammerhead directly
between the protrusions which support its eyes. Instantaneously Tanu saw a
large white gash. Blood spurted profusely from the threshing body. A broad
area of turbulent water turned bright red.
Blinded by the blow, the stunned hammerhead swam in the direction of
the shore. Manueli was waiting by the kitchen with a reef spear. He drove
the single steel spoke through the head of the unsuspecting shark. Manueli
gripped the wooden handle tightly and used all of his weight to hold
the spearhead in the sand. The strong marine animal threshed wildly in
retaliation. Blood spurted in a widening circle. “Move quickly ashore Tanu,”
Manueli called, “don’t waste any time. Go to dry land”
Frozen momentarily Tanu recovered and paddled like he had never paddled
before. The struggling hammerhead dislodged the spearhead from the sand.
It moved with powerful tail-strokes in the direction of the kitchen. Manueli
held on to the spear handle firmly and moved rapidly with the enraged shark.
He tried to guide the huge fish away from the door. But with considerable
force the large creature ended up inside the cookhouse still struggling, and
threshing. Manueli pushed on the spear and guided the blood spurting beast
out of the door at the other end of the kitchen.
Maika the policeman appeared in his aluminium dinghy. “Why are you
in there with that shark?” he said laughingly. “Don’t make jokes,” said a
very serious Manueli, “this fellow is dangerous. His blood may attract his
brothers.” “Lift him into the boat,” said Maika.
Fierce contortions made the shark difficult to control, but the two men
managed to place the grey marine creature in the dinghy. Manueli extracted
the spear. To his surprise the hammerhead ceased its powerful writhing.
Maika and Manueli laughed in loud relief.
Maika sculled the dinghy out to retrieve the fishnet. There weren’t any other
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sharks to contend with. But the fishing gear was heavy. Tanu’s placing of the
net resulted in a large haul of fresh silver trevally.
After Manueli had shared the catch between his two family homes and put
some aside for the policeman, Maika remembered why he had come to this
side of the island.
“Matapule Ioane requests that you all come to the community hall at midday,”
he said. “The seaplane is arriving from the capital island. Five of our people
are leaving. All are emigrating. We may never see them again. Please come to
say farewell.”
“Our women are already preparing a barbecue fire at the hall and Reverend
Langi brought along several bottles of sweet kamaimai. This shark would be
ideal for the occasion. Barbecued with breadfruit it will go a long way.”
Manueli opened the hammerhead’s belly with a sharp knife and cleaned out
its entrails. He saved the liver and roe as a special treat for the passengers.
After skinning the shark, its flesh was placed in Maika’s dinghy in a plastic
icebox.
Nana and Pa were deeply sorry when they heard that people were leaving.
Nana shed tears of regret and Tanu tried to comfort her. Pa said, “Please
get into the dinghy my dear, I shall hold it steady for you. You go ahead with
Maika. The rest of us will wade our way through the high tide to the hall.”
About fifty atoll citizens were gathered at the community centre. The cooking
aromas promised a delicious lunch. There was a mound of travel bags and
suitcases by the main entrance. The departing islanders were dressed in their
Sunday best. They were seated in the centre of the hall next to Matapule
Ioane and Reverend Langi. The unusually quiet children were seated on a row
of benches. The remaining villagers encircled the group.
There was sadness in the eyes of everyone present. The atmosphere was
one of tense sensitivity. When Reverend Langi rose to say a prayer for
those leaving, tears flowed like rain. The sounds of weeping soon overrode
Reverend Langi’s solemn prayer. Crying turned to deep sobbing. The villagers
moved in to hug their departing community members. The reverend cut his
prayer short with a loud Amen.
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Matapule Ioane launched into a serious speech. “Ladies and gentlemen, when
you leave your small atoll homeland, please remember that your blood links
will always be here. Your people will never forget you and we hope that you
will often think of us.”
“Global warming, sea level rise and climate change are not of our making
and we hope that the people of the industrialized countries that cause these
undesirable effects do something about them before our small island home is
completely submerged in the sea.”
“Please return to visit your family and friends as often as you can. We will
be waiting for you. Before you leave us please enjoy this farewell meal which
your atoll relatives and friends prepared.”
Matapule Ioane shortened his speech. He wasn’t sure if anyone was listening.
But those preparing to depart had heard every word despite the wave of
crying.
Several ladies moved to uncover the trestle tables laden with food. Barbecued
rock-cod, emperor, trevally, lobster, shark and breadfruit were laid out in
quantity. Glasses of kamaimai, a cordial made from concentrated sweet toddy,
were placed in rows on each table.
The sumptuous food was enjoyed by everyone
TANGO Photo.
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During the meal, Maika the policeman was busy filling in the passenger
departure forms for the official police record and for the aircraft pilot.
The secondary school teacher, Sione and his wife Mereoni were at the top of
the list. Sione was leaving because there were only six high school students
left on A’ana. He was moving to Fiji where he would be employed by the
local institute of technology. Sione and Mereoni’s son, Filipe, at fourteen
years of age would attend secondary school in Suva, Fiji’s capital.
Next was Laumanu. She had trained as a nurse in New Zealand and was
migrating to Auckland to take up a position at the main city hospital.
Last on the list was Petueli. He was the A’ana Atoll dentist. After graduating
from the Fiji School of Medicine he returned to his home island to set up
private practice. A reducing population through increased emigration made it
impossible for him to make a living locally. He joined the exodus to take up
employment in Brisbane, Australia.
There was excitement when a young boy called out. “It’s the seaplane! It’s
here!” Everyone moved outside to watch the spectacular arrival.
Brilliant sunlight reflected off the small white and cream seven-passenger
seaplane. Its streamlined floats cut through the foaming blue sea. The sleek
craft taxied towards the beach in front of the community hall.
Maika ran out dragging a large rectangular orange rubber boarding pontoon.
Several children ran to help him while the adults laughed and shook their
heads.
The pilot left one engine running and emerged from the cabin onto the
pontoon with a bag of mail and several large parcels in a string bag. He
handed them to Maika and motioned to the passengers to board the aircraft.
Turn-around had to be quick.
Seebee Air Photo.
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The young men and women helpers soon had the baggage in the hold. They
steadied the passengers onto the pontoon. Everyone crowded around for the
boarding sequence. Maika and the children pulled the pontoon ashore and
pushed the plane out to deeper water.
The aircraft turned seaward and taxied a few metres. The second engine
roared to life. Pilot and passengers waved furiously at those on the beach.
The atoll citizens returned the farewell gestures vigorously. With a surge of
speed the seaplane wisped across the tops of the sea swells and lifted into the
air.
Like a large white bird the modern flying machine increased altitude till it was
high in the bright sky. The atoll people ceased waving and assumed silence.
The image of the white bird grew smaller and smaller.
Gazing skyward the islanders felt that a precious portion of life-blood had
been drained from the veins of their atoll homeland.
End/Fin
Copyright © James (Jim) Bentley, Suva, Fiji.
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