SOUTH PACIFIC ADVENTURE – PART II

Draw a line between Hawai’i and American Samoa and you won’t hit much other than water. The tiny island of Tabuaeron lies about 1,800 kilometers south of Kona and about 2,000 kilometers northeast of Pago Pago, our scheduled stop in American Samoa. It is one of thirty-three islands that make up the tiny Republic of Kiribati (pronounced Kiribass) and lies some 3,500 kilometres from the capital of Kiribati, Tarawa. That’s roughly equal to the distance between Halifax and Regina. Imagine governing a country like that! Taken together, the islands have a land area about one-tenth the size of Prince Edward Island and a population about two-thirds of ours.

If you haven’t heard of Kiribati before, don’t be dismayed; few people have. One of the reasons it turns up in world news stories these days is a rather sad one. Due to sea level rise, the country, made up almost entirely of low-lying coral islands, is disappearing slowly but surely. The highest point on Tabuaeron is only three meters above the high tide mark.

Kiribati gained its independence from Great Britain in 1979. It relies on foreign financial aid from the UK and Japan, as well as own-source revenue from fishing and agriculture. Tabuearon, also known as Fanning Island, is an atoll, basically a ring of coral surrounding a shallow lagoon. It’s home to about 1,500 people who live a very simple life. The MS Amsterdam is one of only two cruise ships to call there in 2019. Needless to say, the islanders were glad to see us. There isn’t much for visitors to do on the island as it has no restaurant and no bar. Also, there’s no electricity, no running water, no wifi, and no Wal-Mart. It reminds those of us of a certain age of Gilligan’s Island. In fact, the closing scene of the old sitcom includes an aerial shot of Tabuaeron atoll!

We spent three enjoyable hours on Tabuaeron, walking along the atoll’s only road, meeting the locals, buying a few souvenirs, and taking in the beauty of this very special place. The photos tell the story better than I can.

 
 
 
  

As we sail across this trackless ocean, I can’t help but wonder how the many islands that dot the Pacific were colonized, many of them thousands of years ago, long before the Vikings stumbled upon North America. Imagine having to leave your home island where your family has lived for many generations. Maybe there wasn’t enough land for everyone; maybe all the trees were cut; maybe the fish ran out; maybe a volcano erupted. Whatever the reason, a family decides to head out over the open ocean, not to a nearby island that might offer no better prospects, but into the unknown.

They spend many months building a ship, rigging it with hand-woven sails and shelters for animals and people. Down through the generations, sea peoples learned through trial and error how to build the best ship for a long voyage. Family members climb aboard with all the food and supplies they’ll need for a voyage of undetermined duration. They bring pigs, chickens and dogs for food and companionship; rats tag along for the ride, unnoticed! The navigator waits until the wind and the tide are just right. The community turns out to see them off; friends and relatives cry to see the family leave.

How did they manage to find an island, perhaps 1,000 kilometres distant, and survive the trip? Was it luck, divine intervention, skill, or a combination of all three? Those who study these things believe a skilled navigator would steer by the stars and, that way, at least keep the ship sailing in one direction. He’d watch for signs of land: changes in currents; the appearance of certain birds; the type of clouds that you’d only find over land; maybe drifting vegetation. Some certainly perished from lack of food, storms, sickness, and maybe even conflict among passengers. But, unless you believe we were all put where we are by supreme being, there’s only one way to explain how the many islands of the Pacific were colonized. It’s an amazing story; one that keeps the mind occupied on sea days.

After three days on calm seas, we reached the southernmost territory belonging to the United States of America, American Samoa. We docked in the town of Pago Pago on the main island of Tutuila. American Samoa is a bit of an anomaly, belonging to the USA but having an inferior status to that of the fifty states. Other independent territories include Puerto Rico, US Virgin Islands, Guam, Midway Islands, Wake, Northern Mariana Islands, and a few others. Residents are not US citizens, cannot vote in presidential elections, and have little formal representation in Washington, although they can travel to the mainland and work there.

American Samoa consists of seven islands covering about 200 square kilometres (less than 3% of the area of Prince Edward Island) and is home to about 60,000 people. Most live on a narrow strip of land along the southern shore of Tutuila. All of the islands are volcanic and quite mountainous. American Samoa’s main claim to fame is that it produces more National Football League players per capita than any other part of the USA. The rate of enlistment in the armed forces is also the highest in the country. They count more churches per capita and more local buses—like the one shown in the photo below—than any place we’ve ever been! People bury their dead in their front yards. During our visit, we took a tour on a local bus and walked around town. While glad we called there, it’s not a place we’d return to.

Our next port of call, Apia, is the capital of Samoa, a sovereign country that gained its independence from New Zealand in 1962. Everything about our experience there was excellent. People were friendly and welcoming wherever we went. Although it was a very hot day, we strolled into the center of the city, checked in at the tourist information office, and took in the Saturday morning downtown sights. The highlight of the day was a cultural event featuring key elements of the Samoan culture: music and dance, tattooing, cooking, coconut tree climbing, and the making of coconut cream. Lunch—taro, banana, tuna, and coconut cream covered in leaves; all roasted over hot rocks buried in leaves—was delicious!

Our first port of call in Fiji was the small town of Savusavu on the island of Vanua Levu, second-largest of the more than 300 islands that make up the country. The theme for the day was cultured pearls and we learned how they’re produced at J. Hunter Pearls, a local company based in Savusavu and one of the few companies outside French Polynesia that produces salt-water pearls. From spat collection to final grading, the process is complex, lengthy, risky and, most of all, fascinating. We saw a technician brought in specially from Japan open the live oysters just enough to insert a small “seed” into the meat, recognized by the oyster as a foreign object that must be covered with “nacre”, the material that becomes the pearl.

Next, we boarded a company boat for a sail around the harbour to see where the oysters are grown, hanging from ropes not unlike our own cultured mussels, or suspended inside specially-made cages. They even opened one to show us the end product. I borrowed snorkeling gear for my first close-up view on this trip of the endangered giant clam, some at least one meter across, with beautiful green fluorescent dots on the fleshy parts that line the shell. Elva bought a black pearl necklace, a fitting reminder of our very special visit.

Fiji gained its independence from Great Britain in 1960. The country has a land area about twice the size of Prince Edward Island and is home to some 900,000 people. Unlike most of the other islands we’ll visit, the population of Fiji is multi-ethnic. Indentured labourers were brought to the islands from India by the British to work the sugar cane fields in the early days of the colony. Local chiefs decided the foreigners should not be allowed to own land, so they instead became shopkeepers, wealthy ones as it turned out. With wealth comes power, and the struggles that followed split the country, leading to several coups, the latest in 2006.

Our second stop in Fiji was the capital city of Suva. We’d decided to rent a car and get out into the countryside. We drove along the southwest coast to the Fiji National Park to see the Sigatoka Sand Dunes, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, protected because it’s one of the country’s earliest recorded prehistoric sites, probably about 3,000 years old. It was a hot day for a hike but we got a good cardio workout. The drive there and back gave us a better feel for the country. There is much poverty in rural areas and the idleness that seems to go along with a country that’s not doing too well. We’ll call at two more ports in Fiji before sailing west to the next island country on our list, Vanuatu.