The children, their little brown bodies and silky-black sun-streaked hair shining, are bathed in the shallows after running unconstrained all day. A woman, bent doubled over, digs tiny protein-rich clams out of the sand to feed her infant. The strong young men, with their small, weathered, fishing boat, are sliding into the turquoise lagoon, spreading their hand-made nets to collect the hefty fish from the slow, outgoing tide. The sun begins to set. Men come home from their jobs, wading through thigh-deep water across the channel to reach the village. Drinking an ice-cold beer, I savor my last bite of fresh Emperor fish and crispy Breadfruit chips cooked up and served by my hostess, Saunga, barely in her second decade of life, already a skilled I-Kiribati (ee-kee’-ree-bahs) wife, and mother to three young ones. The soft, warm, sweet wind off the Pacific Ocean blows my hair across my face and back, ruddy-tanned from the sharp equatorial sun. For the last three days, my home on the equator has been a thatched-roof platform built on stilts, extending out over the water of the inlet that allows the ocean to wash fresh water into the lagoon. In my time here, I have heard no children crying nor seen an adult without a smile on his face. This generous family has opened their homes and their hearts to me. I feel their spiritual connection to the earth.
My new friends live simply and well on the Pacific islands of Kiribati (kee’-ree-bahs), much as their ancestors have since 200 BC. A country of 32 coral atolls spread over an area as big as the United States, Kiribati straddles the equator and the International Date Line. The islands are a nursery for sea life, home to 1000 species of shellfish, 800 species of fin fish, and 200 species of coral. The taro plant, providing medicine and slews of nutrients, grows prolifically in the man-made fresh water swamps. The indigenous coconut palms provide wood for construction, fiber for rope, and fuel for cooking fires. Pandanus trees’ leaves are used to weave sleeping mats, roof thatching, and rudimentary sails for small boats. Hand-built wells offer cool, fresh, drinking water. The young children are raised by the tides and the village. They grow up freely exploring the island and the exposed sand bars and learning at their parents’ knees the traditional skills of weaving, sewing, and gathering nectar from coconut flowers for making sugar. Elders are honored as vessels of knowledge, passing along history and beliefs through their songs and dances. The deceased are buried in graves dug beside the family home and decorated with shards of coral.
Welcomed to take rest and live there, for hundreds of years, weary sailors stumbled across the islands. Over time this infused the families with new DNA, evidenced in the many different shades of beautiful, tawny skin, and striking almond-shaped, green eyes. These visitors also added variety to the local diet, bringing pigs and chickens which became an essential part of the life and pride of village families. The temperature on the equator varies little, and the length of days not at all. Storms don’t travel this far from the poles. The I-Kiribati feel no need to worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will come, much as today, much as yesterday. They live for the moment. For centuries the ocean has wrapped her protective arms around these peaceful people.
At this point, if this were a movie, the camera would pan out and my viewers would see the modern reality of this island. Those protective arms of the ocean are now clawing away at the island’s borders. Desperately, ten years ago, the people began to laboriously build walls of the large chunks of dead coral that washed up on the shores, but these walls are crumbling, weak and helpless against the strength of the surf. Salt water reaches its fingers far into the island, killing vegetation and the soil it grows in. Twenty years ago, there were lush gardens. Now the taro swamps are dead. The well water is no longer drinkable.
In this movie, night falls, and as the island family sleeps, the King Tide enters the tiny village. Not a tidal wave — it doesn’t suddenly come as a wall of water, leaving just as quickly, washing everything out into the ocean. No, it creeps in gradually with the tide, inches at a time. Like a child playing freeze tag, it takes a few steps and stops, takes a few more steps and stops, creeping farther and deeper beyond the shoreline. Realizing they are getting wet, Saunga and her husband, Rockweise, startle awake. They see their clothes, papers, and what few belongings they own are floating. Suddenly there is pandemonium. The children are snatched from their sleep. She runs to the next hut to help grandfather. Other relatives are scrambling from their huts. Someone screams, “Get the pigs!” But the pigs, their only other possession of value, tied and pinned at the edge of the property, have drowned.
This scene is playing over and over across most of the country, but this is not a movie. Over 1000’s of years, atolls are built up of sand and coral attached to the top of extinct underwater volcanoes. Global warming is causing the ocean waters to warm and expand. Sensitive to even the smallest increases in ocean temperatures, the coral is severely and frequently bleaching. Eventually it dies. As the coral dies, the islands will sink. Another symptom of climate change, in 2015 the southern islands of Kiribati were flooded by Cyclone Pam. Storms aren’t supposed to go that close to the equator. And as the polar ice caps melt, because of the complicated science of polar gravity, the sea level around these islands is rising faster than anywhere else on earth, 3.9 mm per year, well above the global average of 1 – 2 mm per year. Recent predictions show sea levels rising 10 inches in the next 20 – 30 years and 24 inches or more by the end of this century. The islands of Kiribati are on average 6 feet above sea level. Today’s King Tides are a temporary example of what will one day soon be the normal daily tide. Already some of the islands in the country have disappeared below the surface of the ocean. The natives who lived there were able to escape to the capital island of Tarawa, but this is a fragile sanctuary at best.
The current President of Kiribati since 2014, Taneti Mamau, is preaching “resilience and adaptation” for the country. He ran his campaign on promises of improving the islands’ infrastructures and attracting industry. To increase the GDP, Mamau has encouraged his people to cultivate more palm trees so they can export coconut products. But the salt water and sea spray are killing the trees. He wants to promote tourism for world-class diving, fishing, and surfing and bring in foreign investors to build 5-star eco-friendly resorts, transforming Kiribati into the “Dubai of the Pacific.” This is ludicrous, considering Kiribati is one of the least developed countries in the world, and the island capital of South Tarawa is one of the most densely populated and severely poverty-stricken. But his people, wanting relief from the overwhelming responsibility of preparing to migrate, are eager to follow him down this unrealistic path. Citizens refer to The Bible, recounting the story of how God promised Noah that He would never flood the earth again. They believe Mamau when he says, “We try to isolate ourselves from the belief that Kiribati will be drowned. The ultimate decision is God’s.” Many of the citizens don’t understand that the situation will not get better before it gets worse. If foreign governments haven’t made the necessary changes to curb global warming (and they have not), Mamau’s grandiose plans mean nothing. For the sake of their children, I-Kiribati must face up to the inevitability of leaving their homes. If they stay they will starve, or drown, or both.
Anote Tong became President of Kiribati in 2003 and served the maximum allowed three terms until the end of 2015. By 2008 he understood Kiribati would be the first country to lose all its land territory to global warming. He knew that for them, climate change had reached the point of no return. “We’ve got to be brutally realist. We have no choice.” He asked the Australian and New Zealand governments to accept Kiribati citizens as permanent refugees but was denied. The UN does not recognize natural disasters as a reason for refugee status. Fiji is the only country that has stepped up. Even Fiji is having to move its citizens farther uphill to escape coastal erosion and sea-level rise, but if the I-Kiribati need somewhere to escape sea-level rise, Fiji is willing to accommodate.
Tong believes no one in Kiribati wants to be a burden on a country kind enough to take them in. “’Refugee” is an undignifying term. When people have already lost their homes, they shouldn’t have to also lose their dignity. If trained and skilled, then they can migrate on merit. They don’t want to be pushed away because they can’t contribute.” So, with purpose and perseverance he set about putting into action practical plans for “migration with dignity”.
In 2009 Australia and Kiribati entered into a Partnership for Development to improve basic education including English language and workforce skills development as part of The Kiribati Education Improvement Program 2010-2020. On the Island of South Tarawa, internationally accredited schools, supported by the Australian and New Zealand governments, and the German shipping line, SPMS, are set to train the islanders in skills useful for finding opportunities in other countries. The renowned Maritime Training Centre and The Fisheries Training Centre provide training for seamen, with many of their graduates employed by SPMS. The Kiribati Institute of Technology (KIT) trains men and women in skills such as Accounting, Automotive, Construction, Electrotechnology, Hospitality, Information Technology, Nursing, and Plumbing. They provide a liaison between workers who want to connect with employers and Australian and New Zealand employers who are experiencing labor shortages, both for seasonal work which is a commitment of 9 months, and for The Pacific Labour Scheme for commitments lasting up to three years.
Problems do exist with the training. Students drop out before completing the course work. Pertinent internships are difficult to come by on the small atoll. Companies investing money to further train workers for temporary jobs get frustrated by islanders returning to their homeland and then not participating in a second stint. Often the I-Kiribati feel it necessary to spread the wealth around, and pass on the job opportunity to give another family a chance at the income. Still, I met several graduates of KIT and was impressed by their eagerness, as pertained to their responsibilities, to accommodate and assist me. Brett Thomson, an Australian Labour Support Advisor with The Palladium Group, was positive in his assessment of young women who had trained for and taken jobs in an Australian home for elderly. He said the employer was very pleased with the compassion of the women, after all, they grew up in a culture that honors their elderly. He hoped to hire more from Kiribati. When asked what could be done to make them happier while living in Australia, the women said, “Bring over more I-Kiribati so we have a community.” A representative from the international shipping line SMS, thinks I-Kiribati men make great seamen. “They are strong, and they know the ocean.” It’s a start.
President Tong explored every option for his people including building floating islands. But floating islands are extremely expensive. “In spite of whatever adaptation it would take to build our climate resilience, I don’t believe the international community is ready to come forward with the resources to repair our homes.” In 2013 he began encouraging his people to evacuate Kiribati and migrate elsewhere. In 2014 the Office of the President confirmed the purchase of a 6,000-acre estate on the Fijian island of Vanua Levu. Development plans explored options of commercial, industrial, and agricultural undertakings such as fish canning, beef/poultry farming, and fruit and vegetable farming to replace the food sources lost from encroaching salt water and to improve Kiribati’s GDP. He never intended to use the land for relocating the entire 100,000 residents of Kiribati, but he has stated that if it were to come to that, it could be done.
President Tong was an active member of The Alliance of Small Island States, an intergovernmental organization of low-lying coastal and small island developing countries, which consolidates their voices for addressing global warming. As part of this alliance, he attended the 2015 Paris accords and was instrumental in convincing world leaders that, where a limit of 2 degrees centigrade increase in overall global temperatures was a worthy goal, it would take immediate action on all countries of the world and a goal of 1.5 degrees maximum temperature rise over pre-Industrial era temperatures to save his country. Of course, he was also astute enough to realize that the chance of the world making changes to this extent was negligible. “What strong action can happen in Paris? It doesn’t matter for us because what is already in the atmosphere will ensure that the problems we are facing will continue to happen. To plan for the day when you no longer have a country is indeed painful, but I think we have to do that.” It is a difficult concept to grasp that those who have contributed the least to global warming suffer first and suffer the most.
How do you move an entire culture connected to their land for hundreds of years? The islands are part of their very souls. There will be no need to teach the children the traditional island skills. Growing up with the freedom to run all day without fear will be gone. But the younger folks will not leave their elders. In their culture, elders are honored until death and beyond. The oldest will not go, choosing to die with the islands. They are too old to learn a new language. Too old to understand changing seasons. No more living by the rise and fall of the ocean tides. They would be forced to leave their loved ones’ graves behind. Sadly, they never would go home again. Their friends will be gone, and their homes and land will be lost forever under the sea.
Anote Tong continues to be a vocal proponent for reducing greenhouse gas emissions to save his country and our planet from worst-case scenarios.
For more information about Tabon te-keekee and their buias, or huts over the water, check out their website at: https://www.tabontekeekee.com
“The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific,” by Maarten Troost, is a fascinating book written with honesty and humor about the two years Troost and his girlfriend spent living on the Tarawa atoll. It gives a true depiction of the personalities of modern day I-Kiribati.
“Anote’s Ark,” a 5-star documentary film by Matthieu Rytz, made its debut at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival. telling the story of a mother of 6 trying to move her family to another country to avoid the rising ocean on Kiribati, set against a background of international climate and human rights negotiations.