November 10-November
27, 2013
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The wharf at Tabuaeran (Fanning Island) |
Fanning Island, like Christmas Island, was much more like
what we would have seen if we had continued west to Melanesia and Micronesia,
rather than returning home via Polynesia. The culture on the
islands of Kiribati was different from what we had experienced so far. As we pulled into the anchorage, a dozen naked boys jumping off the wharf for a swim shouted greetings to us. The kids on Fanning continued to be among the friendliest and most curious about us during our stay there: and they loved having their pictures taken!
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Fast friends |
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This homemade toy reminded me of a hockey stick |
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These boys were eager to be photographed... |
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....and to be shown in manly poses |
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This entire group of boys walked from their village to the wharf with me, teaching me phrases in Kiribati |
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A group of youngsters on White Ribbon Day |
Most of the people on Fanning Island (Tabuaeran) have
relocated from the Gilbert Islands in western Kiribati. Specifically, many of
them have emigrated from the overcrowded atoll of Tarawa, which houses over 45%
of the entire population of the 33 islands in Kiribati. The
population influx on Tarawa is due to two major factors. Many people have moved
there to search for jobs, since Tarawa is the government seat of Kiribati. Due
to rising sea levels associated with climate change, others from the threatened
outer islands have flocked to Tarawa, putting added pressure on the resources
of this overpopulated atoll.
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Memorial to some of the early Fanning explorers who were not from Kiribati |
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Detail of the names and dates on the memorial |
On Fanning Island, there are about 2,000 people scattered
over eight different villages. People who used to live on Tarawa say they are
happy here because “there is enough fish to eat.” Fishing is one of the major
occupations of the villagers (primarily men), along with copra production and
seaweed farming (both men and women). Copra and seaweed are Fanning’s two
primary exports. Copra is subsidized by the government and in the words of one
of the local entrepreneurs, is “a losing proposition” for Kiribati. The
government pays the islanders more than they can get in price on the world
market to harvest copra. There is a glut of copra on the world market---where
it has largely been out-competed by soy beans---and Kiribati can only get two
cents per kilo for it, probably more than it costs to ship it. We learned that
the copra we saw sitting on the dock at Christmas Island originally came from
Fanning Island and will probably go nowhere. Eventually, it will be bulldozed
into the sea.
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Seaweed (on tarp on ground) and copra (on tin across barrel and stump) drying on Fanning island |
The seaweed harvesting operation is profitable; however, a
bottleneck lies in the distribution process. Fanning islanders can produce more
seaweed in their lagoon than they can ship out, due to the few number of cargo
ships that visit the atoll. The seaweed is marketed in China but is currently
not shipped there directly. During our visit to Fanning, the most industrious
people we saw were people either harvesting or processing seaweed.
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Most of the local seaweed harvesters brought their seaweed here |
Aquaculture plots were set out on lines. Each family had
their own plot. The seaweed was collected in large pandanus baskets or on
rafts. After they harvested some of the leaves from the seaweeds, the villagers
tied the remaining plant material back onto the lines to continue growing. (The
process reminded me of picking the outer leaves of lettuce plants when
harvesting a garden, leaving the smaller, inner ones to grow bigger.)
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Aquaculture plots in the background with drying rainbow colored seaweed in foreground |
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More aquaculture plots in Fanning lagoon |
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Using a raft to harvest seaweed |
Once harvested, the seaweed was spread in the sun to dry.
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I think the rainbow seaweed is a type of red algae |
A variety of different species were grown.
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Drying seaweeds on Fanning island |
After drying, the seaweed was transported to the local
buyer, which processed the seaweed for shipping. The islanders had a unique way
of standardizing the amount of seaweed in a block (10 kg) using a seaweed press. They packed the seaweed into a box.
They overfilled the box and put a wooden lid on top. Then two men got up on a
swing attached to a large metal lever arm. As they stood on the swing, their weight
pressed a second, angled lever arm down on top of the wooden box lid. The metal
plate at the end of this second arm compressed the seaweed in the box. Extra
bits fell off the sides.
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Baskets of seaweed from Napari that will be barged to the buyer on the next motu |
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Baskets of seaweed awaiting processing |
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The seaweed press (seaweed in yellow box at rear) |
The box containing the compressed seaweed was then
transferred to a platform and turned upside down. The box was removed but the
wooden lid was placed on top of the cube of seaweed. One of the men quickly
stood on the wooden lid to keep the seaweed compressed, as the packet of
seaweed was saran-wrapped around his ankles. Only then, when the seaweed was
packaged and contained, did the man step off the seaweed and the wooden lid was
removed. This operation was repeated countless times throughout the day.
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Wrapping a 10-kg packet of seaweed |
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Finished product awaiting shipping |
One of the highlights of my visit to Fanning was when I had
the opportunity to try out sailing a te wa. I arranged a trade with Tay-buk (phonetic spelling), the village
carpenter: a ride on his te wa in
exchange for some fishing gear. It turned out that the very first te wa I photographed on Fanning Island---on my first day there---was Taybuk's te wa and the one I was to eventually sail. Patrick noted that although the canoes on Tabuaeran appeared to be of traditional construction, and many parts were lashed in the traditional way, modern stitch-and-glue techniques were also used, and some of the lashings were done with wire or fishing line (whatever was available). Taybuk’s canoe was designed for a single
sailor; however I was relieved when we took it out loaded with Taybuk, myself,
and his daughter, Ta-roo-ya (phonetic spelling). I didn’t want to be
responsible for operating the te wa alone on my first try.
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The first te wa I photographed was Taybuk's |
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First pass on the te wa with Taybuk handling the sheet |
These outrigger canoes are of a proa design; in order to
change direction, one literally moves the sail (still attached to the mast)
from the bow to the stern, thereby creating a new bow and a new stern. On
Taybuk’s te wa, he used a thick wooden dowel as a mast, but a forked branch was
lashed to the base of the dowel. The fork in the branch was used to attach the
mast to a cross-beam on the canoe, and was tipped one way or the other,
depending on which end of the te wa the sail was on. Once you are used to it,
moving the mast is probably a simple operation when sailing solo. But with
three of us on the te wa, we had to pass the sail along from bow to stern and
vice-versa. Even though you luff the sail prior to moving it, there is still
some pressure on the sail from the wind, so this can be a tricky operation.
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Turning the boat: Taybuk passes the sail to me (photo by Uwe Borgmann) |
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I pass it to Tarooya (photo by Uwe Borgmann) |
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We steady the mast into its new location (photo by Uwe Borgmann) |
After our first trip halfway across the lagoon, Taybuk let
me handle the sheet on the return trip. Through trial and error, I learned how
to balance keeping the sail full with keeping the outrigger cutting through the
surface of the water instead of riding underneath the surface.
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Women on te wa: Kirsten handles the sheet, while Tarooya handles the rudder |
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The outrigger is a little too deep here... |
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....but is looking better here |
Since I was in
the middle, Taybuk and his daughter (on either end) took turns operating the
rudder. We all took turns bailing, since Taybuk’s canoe was a bit leaky. We
took several trips back and forth partway across the lagoon, during which I
noticed that Taybuk’s sheet was practically chafed through, and his sail was
torn at the attachment points to the mast and boom. When I got back to Silhouette, I asked Patrick if we had
any spare line we could donate for a new mainsheet and told him I had
volunteered to repair the luff of Taybuk’s sail on our sewing machine. I ended
up only helping to repair the sail as the project inspired the imagination of
our resident canvas worker. Patrick ended up re-stitching the seams all the way
around the sail and reinforcing chafed areas on the edges, the attachment
points for lines, and the tack, head, and clew of the sail with sail cloth or
Sunbrella. He also patched any major tears or holes in the sail. Taybuk was
delighted when we returned a much stronger sail to him.
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Sail luff before with attachment to mast |
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Sail luff after with reinforcement and new line |
A te wa without its sail is more often used by Fanning
Islanders for paddling outside the pass to fish. The oar that forms the rudder
when sailing is used as a paddle when canoeing. The fishermen drift fish in the
ocean just outside the entrance to the pass. They form a line with their canoes
and each fisherman sends down a baited circle hook into which is inserted a
leaf rolled with loose bait. The fishermen use a stone to get the hook and bait
as close to the bottom as possible and then jiggle the line to free the stone
and unroll the loose bait. The loose bait acts as chum or burley to attract the
fish to the baited hook, and since the fishermen are lined up in the water in
their canoes, they create a chum line. The fishermen dangle their heavy
monofilament lines from their big toes while seated on their canoes, drifting
on the open ocean, so that their hands are free to position and stabilize the
boat with the paddle/rudder. When they get a bite, they stow the paddle and
pull in the line hand-over-hand. Each canoe has multiple compartments in the
hull into which the whole fish are placed for storage.
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Top view of a te wa showing the narrow platform used for seating and the compartments where fish are stored |
Some villagers also use catamarans to travel back and forth
across the lagoon. We saw several Hobie cats in use at Fanning.
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This Hobie cat with an olive sail frequently crossed the lagoon |
Aluminum barges and launches are also used: to transport large numbers of people back and
forth across the lagoon from one village to another; to carry cargo; and to
troll for fish in rough weather.
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A barge transporting villagers from one motu to the other |
The sail cargo vessel Kwai
beat us to Fanning island from Christmas island and was in the process of
offloading when we arrived. After offloading cargo at Fanning, they made a
short trip to Washington island to offload cargo and pick up copra. The Kwai then returned to Fanning, where it picked up
passengers bound for Christmas island. The Kwai
ended up delivering more than cargo on that trip, as a female passenger
delivered a baby boy on the foredeck en route to Christmas!
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The Kwai in Fanning lagoon |
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The Kwai at anchor off the wharf |
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Offloading the Kwai |
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Modernity creeps in: A thatched roof sporting a solar panel which probably runs an LED light or a boom box |
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Waterfront village scene |
In addition to cisterns for water collection, many of the
dwellings on Fanning atoll also had wells. Water from the wells had to be
boiled before using for drinking.
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A well laid with stones |
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They were putting stakes around this well to keep animals (or perhaps children?) away from the well |
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The can on the stake is used to dip water from the well |
There were several large community meeting houses, called maneaba, spread throughout the island. These large spaces house new
arrivals from Tarawa until they can build a home, and they are the gathering
places for community meetings and festivals.
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A maneaba of modern materials under construction
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A lonely grave outside the new maneaba appeared to be left out of the blessing of the graves |
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We took the dinghy across the lagoon to another motu, where
there was a village consisting of only traditional huts. The village name was
pronounced “A-wa.” Ironically, this was one of the villages which had a less
traditional water craft: a Hobie cat. We
had seen the cat on our side of the lagoon several times before, visiting the
village. Only a handful of families lived in “A-wa,” and they made their
living by fishing and harvesting copra. It was a very sparse existence.
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Approaching the village on the other side of the lagoon |
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A closer view of "A wa" |
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Collecting coconut sap on A wa |
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A te wa on A wa |
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Traditional lashings contrasted with modern "stitch and glue" technique |
A wa's motu was very
pretty because it had an inland estuary where the lagoon poured over the atoll.
This estuary was a milkfish nursery, and the villagers hauled in scads of three
to four-inch milkfish in their seine nets for eating. There were also a lot of pigs
and piglets in the village, and it was the only village we saw where all of the
swine were allowed to run free. We met a very outgoing woman at this village, who
had just moved from Christmas Island to Fanning in July. She toured us around
the village and also led us on a walk to the ocean side of the motu. It was on this walk that I almost met my demise, as a green coconut fell inches from my face, landing with a thud that even startled our guide!
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A coconut palm arch |
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Mother and child enjoying a mud facial at the swamp spa |
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Part of A wa's estuary |
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Our new friend Taris (phonetic spelling) |
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Taris and me enjoying the cooling sea breeze |
We also took the dinghy to a more nearby motu, which housed
the village of Napari (including the island’s secondary school) and an
anchorage on the outside (ocean side) of the atoll, Whaler Anchorage. Whaler
Anchorage looked a little rough for anchoring, although there were definitely
shallow areas. Perhaps ships used to tie up along an old wharf, only the
remains of which can be seen today. We were surprised to see surfers on the
ocean side: a bit of modernity on an
island that otherwise seemed like a step back in time.
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We saw this shipwreck in the lagoon after crossing the north side of the pass |
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Fuel containers recently offloaded from Christmas Island |
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A long hike brought us to the outskirts of Napari village |
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A living compound in Napari village |
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Remains of the wharf at Whaler Anchorage |
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A surfer on the ocean near Whaler Anchorage |
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Another surf shot |
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He rode the wave all the way in |
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The road over the lagoon had a wooden bridge with missing planks |
There is a lot of fetch in Fanning’s lagoon, and a strong
current often rips through the anchorage and the pass. I didn’t snorkel here as
much as in some other places, but I did have a couple of memorable snorkeling
experiences. After the Cook Islands, snorkeling in Kiribati waters was a relief
for their notable absence of sharks. I went on a drift snorkel through the pass
with Pete and Rae from SV Saliander.
We didn’t see a lot of large animals like manta rays or turtles in the pass,
but there were hundreds of fish, both in the pass and in the lagoon. All of us
saw a couple of species of fish we hadn’t seen before. We did see one manta ray
in the lagoon, and I think Pete and Rae saw an eagle ray in the pass. It is a
lot of fun drift snorkeling at Fanning, because you shoot through the pass
pretty rapidly and continue to drift at a rapid pace across the lagoon floor.
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The entrance to the pass at Fanning Island |
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The pass with some current running in it |
I also snorkeled my first shipwreck on Fanning. I had been
eyeing the small wreck near the anchorage since we arrived, waiting for a calm
day when I could snorkel it without being pushed away by the current. My day
finally arrived, a calm one with no wind, and I donned my flippers, mask, and
snorkel and swam over to the wreck from Silhouette. When I got to the wreck, I peered through
portholes and into hatch tops and saw rooms full of fish! The cabins and holds
were occupied by pisceans; while a couple of old salts (crabs) had control of
the permanently exposed topside. I could definitely understand divers’
fascination with wrecks, as many more fish were around the wreck than in other
areas of the lagoon. I was snorkeling alone, so I didn’t have the courage to
free dive into the holds or through the doorways of the sunken ship. There were
large clouds of rust coming off the ship, which made the interior cloudy. Also,
I suspected that diving inside the ship would startle the fish and make them
scatter.
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The shipwreck near the anchorage |
Fanning housed both Protestant and Catholic churches. I
attended a service at the Catholic church, and it was quite lively. Like
churches throughout Tonga and the Cook Islands, the congregation is very
tolerant of childrens’ behavior in church. In those countries, children are
free to roam around the church, and they often change their seats during the
service to sit next to a preferred adult. (Children are usually seated together
in one area of the church.) On Penrhyn (where villagers attend three church
services a day on Sunady), the children are even free to walk out of the church
during the service and go home. But in church, the children are always whisper-quiet,
even while moving around.
Not so in Kiribati. Not only the children---but the adult
congregation---talked, laughed, and cried throughout the entire service. In
response to this, the minister did not raise his voice; he just kept on
talking. People came and went from the church during the service; children
wandered around and played; people threw things to each other across the aisle
or from the doorway into the church:
throughout it all, the minister remained unfazed. The only time it was quiet was when the entire
congregation was singing. Such an atmosphere makes church a less boring and
more inviting place---particularly for children---but it must be a challenge
for the minister!
There were no pews in the Kiribati church. The congregation
sat on the floor and, at specific times during the service, kneeled or stood.
Kneeling on the floor was hard on the knees, but with typical tolerance, no one
viewed you askance if you couldn’t do it. Some elders would kneel for about 30
seconds before reclining back into a seated position, often leaning against one
of the posts holding up the church.
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Interior of Catholic church when church was not in session |
On Fanning, we also visited our first kava bar. Kava is a
drink made from the root of a species of pepper plant. Drinking kava is not
traditionally a part of the culture of Kiribati; it is commonly drunk by the
men of Fiji and Vanuatu during a ritualized kava ceremony. Drinking kava is a
habit Fanning islanders have recently adopted due to their no alcohol policy.
(Apparently, there were too many fights on the island when beer was allowed.
Since kava tends not to make people aggressive like alcohol, its use engenders
fewer problems.) True kava is chewed (which enhances its potency), then spit
into a bowl and mixed with water. Vanuatu is one of the only places where this
is still done. Depending on its strength, kava can cause a tingling or numbness
in your lips and face, right up to what seems like a temporary paralysis of
your limbs. Most parts of Fiji, as well as Kiribati, now mix powdered kava root
with water instead of chewing it. In addition to being more sanitary, this
makes a weaker form of kava. The kava on Kiribati was so weak that I noticed no
side effects at all; however, if you drink a lot of it at one sitting, there
are reportedly some mild effects. (I only tried a couple of cups.) Kava tasted
better than I expected, as I’d heard it described as being like drinking “mud”
or “dirty water.” The kava was earthy, yes, but it tasted like a root, not like
dirt. It reminded me of licorice root without the sweet, throat-soothing
smoothness of that root.
The kava bars were a center of social activity on the
island. The one we visited was only open two days a week and was frequented
mostly by the men. (A handful of women were also present.) The kava bar hosted
pool and dart tournaments, and the entry fees for the tournaments went to the
winner. Unfortunately, most of the patrons of the kava bar were smoking the
long, pandanus-rolled cigarettes common in Kiribati, and we made it a short
night because of the overpowering smoke.
Another center of social activity for foreign visitors was
Bruno and Tabeta’s place. Bruno is a French ex-pat who met Tabeta on her home
island, Washington island, while he was sailing. (Washington is also part of Kiribati.)
Now they live on Fanning island with two of their children. Bruno and Tabeta
have created a magical courtyard on the atoll. You enter through a metal
archway, whose ironwork spells out “Le Belle Etouille” (beautiful star), and from
which dangle iridescent black pearl shells. As you walk through the courtyard,
lain from rounded stones of white coral, you are reminded of the cobblestones
on the narrow streets of European cities. The courtyard is shaded with tropical
trees, however: breadfruit, hibiscus,
lime. Bruno’s large, hand-crafted toys for the children are scattered around the
property: a teeter-totter, a wooden
train, a wooden hobby-horse.
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The entrance to "Le Belle Etouille" |
Bruno and Tabeta rent sleeping platforms to crews and
visitors from cargo and other ships. They also cook homemade meals in a
“restaurant” on their living compound. We shared a couple of enjoyable meals
there with other yachties: first, with
our buddy boats from Penrhyn---Saliander,
Irie II, and Texas Silhouette---and a second time with some
new friends on SV Stone Fire. The
visit of Bruno’s sister and brother-in-law, Helene and Jean Philippe, coincided
with our visit, and we enjoyed meeting them and seeing them when we went to Bruno’s.
Helene and Jean Philippe had flown to Hawaii from Bordeaux, France and made
passage on the sail cargo ship Kwai from
Hawaii, to Christmas Island, and finally, to Fanning Island in order to visit
Bruno and Tabeta. Their journey took them three weeks.
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About to enjoy a bottle of red at Bruno's: Photo courtesy of Uwe Borgmann |
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Patrick and I on the veranda at Bruno's: Photo courtesy of Uwe Borgmann |
The week before we left Fanning, I attended the island’s
“White Ribbon Day” festivities with Helene. I had come ashore that morning not
knowing it was a holiday and stumbled onto the event, which was part of an
international day for the elimination of violence against women. The event
opened with a parade in which battalions of women representing different
villages each performed a march. Most of the women were dressed in black, some
wearing white ribbons in honor of the day’s theme. One battalion wore dance
regalia over their black dress and performed some opening dances in front of
the village elders and officiaries, who were seated in a special pavilion outside
the maneaba. Because we were guests to the island, Helene and I had been
invited to sit there too.
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Each battalion of women had a banner |
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This group all had white ribbons on their heads |
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Exhibiting their marching form |
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A second group of marchers |
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This battalion put a little humor into their march |
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The Mistress of Ceremonies for White Ribbon Day |
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Some of the young men turned out to support the last battalion of women marchers |
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This group of dancers had the honor of opening the ceremony |
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I loved the colorful costumes and the attitude |
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Kiribati dancers with flair |
After the opening ceremony, everyone moved to the maneaba,
where the rest of the festivities took place. They consisted of dances
performed by different villages, a feast, and a skit surrounding the theme of
the elimination of violence against women. I’m not sure how clearly the women
performing the skit got their message across, as some improvisational
participation from some of the men in the audience completely undermined their
theme; however, the impromptu participation had all the villagers---male and
female alike---screaming with laughter.
I especially enjoyed seeing all the dances performed by the
women, our first exposure to dance in Kiribati.
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After their dance, these women passed their flower crowns on to the spectators |
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The dancers all wore a circlet of green leaves around their waists |
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One of the largest dancing groups |
Fanning islanders had their own twist on the community
feast. Each family brought whatever they were contributing---rice, fish,
breadfruit, papaya---even bags of Doritos!---all heaped together in a big
Sterite-style plastic tub. Similar to the covered dishes we had seen on
Penrhyn, the lids served to keep the flies off the food until people were ready
to eat. Then, they were quickly replaced after everyone dished up their plate.
Once all the dishes were laid out, people got up and served themselves. (Tabeta
had kindly sent along plates and utensils for Helene and I with one of her
neighbors, knowing that the feast would be part of the event.) This was the
first feast we had participated in, in which we we saw people eating the jungle
fowl or chickens that run all over the Pacific islands. I also finally got to
try one of their eggs, which are laid in the bush and very difficult to find.
They are smaller than a hen’s egg but tasted just like one (at least when
hard-boiled.)
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Healthy pandanus plants on Tabuaeran |
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A head of unripe pandanus fruit |
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Ripe pandanus fruit on the ground |
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Swamp taro under cultivation |
After two and a half weeks on Fanning atoll, the weather
conditions for our passage to Hilo presented themselves, and it was time to
weigh anchor. No one was at the Customs or Immigration offices, but I knew
where the Custom’s officer lived, so we went to his house. Rousting the
Custom’s officer out of bed in the middle of the afternoon, we completed our
paperwork for clearing out. By then, the Immigration officer had returned to
the office, and we got our passports stamped. We were on our way, but we will
always remember Tabuaeran’s gift to us:
a window into another world
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