The South Pacific islands have long held a mystique in western consciousness. From Captain Cook to Margaret Mead, stories of sexual liberties and cannibalistic appetites have fueled our fantasies and fears. I know I come with my own preconceptions, but as I travel across this vast ocean, with its far flung island communities, I’m curious to learn more about the richness of Polynesian history: languages, arts, and mythologies that, thanks to early Polynesians’ incredible navigational skills, continue to unite peoples across thousands of miles. It is a remarkable fact that words spoken in the Marquesas can, with some care, be understood by Maoris in New Zealand, thousands of miles away!
We have now made two landfalls: Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas and Ahe atoll in the Tuamotus. Though only three and a half days apart by sail, they offer a stunning pallet for the senses as well as plenty of food for thought regarding biocultural diversity. From the rugged peaks, lush forests, and dark, plankton-rich seas of the Marquesas to the low-lying, clear waters of coral atolls in the Tuamotus, the beauty of each is unique; yet I can’t help wonder about earlier migrations of Polynesians who chose the rubbly, narrow bracelets of islands, motus, that ring coral-rich lagoons versus those who settled the loftier terrains of young volcanic islands. More than that, I wonder about the fates of these communities today, impacted by globalization and its multiple forces and effects, including those of a changing climate.
French Polynesia, like many regions of the world, is in economic crisis today. We are led to understand that since France has terminated its controversial nuclear testing in the Tuamotus (between 1966 and 1996 this created over 100,000 jobs!), since the Black Pearl market has been devastated by commodity-scale actions taken in China and elsewhere, and with the recession in tourism, jobs have been hard to come by. The capital of Papeete continues to draw outer-islanders who hope for work, but we’ve heard again and again that unemployment in the capital remains high along with the cost of living, and life is very hard. In contrast, people on the outer islands say that at least at home, there is community to take care of you and costs are lower. This is hardly a unique tale. According to our observations, the Marquesas have some distinct advantages in this crisis. Food for the picking is everywhere on these islands—mangoes, bananas, breadfruit, grapefruit, limes and more – as well as an abundance of fish in the surrounding seas whereas this atoll of Ahe appears to have plenty of fish but little else that is indigenous. Coconut palms, imported long ago, provide a cash crop called “copra”which is a widespread in these atolls and is exported to Tahiti where the government subsidizes it in order to support island livelihoods.
While all the islands of FP depend upon the regular supply ships that arrive from Tahiti, the atolls appear more dependent upon them for day to day living than the Marquesas, given the dearth of fresh foods. These atolls have also undergone the recent boom and bust of the black pearl trade which collapsed a little over a decade ago following overproduction, Chinese knock-offs, and depressed earnings for harvesters. This has left clear signs of a community that has directly suffered the effects of large-scale commodity markets, with abandoned farms rimming the reefs. While signs of commodity pressures are not as immediately evident in Nuku Hiva, in our own experience passage-making and by local account, the rapacious fishing fleets from Japan, Korea and China, are beginning to strip the waters clean. Henri, a local in Taiohae whom we spoke with extensively, expressed concern that in future, should his grandchildren wish to continue fishing, this might not be an option for them.
Henri plans to run for mayor in 2014 and is part of a council seeking sustainable development strategies for the island. He lamented the impact of cash economies on lifestyles and values, but likewise recognized the need to develop some strategies that would provide people with wages. He spoke of small, local initiatives to develop artisanal vinegars and honeys, as well as larger plans for a cooperative business for the export of goat meat. When we asked him about climate change and what we should say to people in the US, he described an image of American power plants, factories and cars belching pollution. Then he added, jokingly, “Atomic bomb!”This was his same mock solution when asked about foreign fishing fleets depleting fish stocks: “Too many mouths to feed. Atomic bomb!” This repeated reference struck us as particularly poignant given France’s decades of bomb testing in the region and ongoing disputes about long term environmental and human health impacts.
As we walked the paved streets of Tenukupara, Ahe’s sole village that is roughly 3 blocks by 3 blocks existing on a small motu between the breakers of the ocean and the shelter of the lagoon, we couldn’t help wonder about where this atoll will be the decades to come given the forecast for a rising sea level. Somewhat remarkable to us, our conversations with community members did not elicit similar concerns. For example, the police chief, a school teacher, and a shopkeeper were all well aware of such warnings, but reported that either they were secondary to the current economic crisis, or, in one case, were God’s punishment for homosexuality! In Nuku Hiva, sea level rise poses threat to the coastal villages, yet there is the option to move to higher grounds if necessary. No such options exist on the 77 atolls that constitute the Tuamotus. They will simply disappear under the sea.
Today, we head to Rangiroa, the second largest atoll in the world, 90 miles to the west of Ahe. Here, children of Ahe must relocate for school if they wish to continue studying as teenagers. Tourism is reportedly more robust. Several dive operators work in the atoll and diving is considered world-class. I wonder how my impressions of the Tuamotus might change with our time there? Plenty of evidence from around the world shows that tourism is a double-edged sword in terms of community well-being; too often, biological and cultural diversity become packaged for western consumption. As we sail towards more heavily touristed regions of the South Pacific, we’ll see how this impacts the island communities and the local ecosystems.