The cruel sea

Thursday started slowly. Just as well as I was a bit delicate following a minor bout of food poisoning yesterday. My next door neighbour Lousaline had it too - we suspect the raw fish in coconut cream at Tuesday night's faculty dinner, an otherwise wonderful evening by the shore with men around the tanoa (kava bowl). I was due to be taken on a sightseeing trip at 8.30  but a problem with the college minibus (someone thought a spare wheel would be a good idea, given the terrain we were due to cover) meant we didn't set off till nearly midday. With Titimeia driving we headed for the hills - the lush, rainforest that covers most of the interior of Upolu. Tall tree ferns started to replace coconut palms, then majestic hardwood trees with vivid creepers. Streams, rivers and waterfalls dot the landscape and we passed a hydro- electric dam. It's sparsely populated, but there are villages, and even occasional cattle and sheep farms. 

 Looking down a waterfall in the rain forest. 

 Eventually, the road took us downhill again till we joined the south coast. The villages are closer together here, and many of them have family and village- run holiday resorts. These tend to be simple huts on the edge of the beach with a toilet block and snack bar. We stopped for lunch at one of them. It's difficult to believe, but this idyllic spot, a delightful beach resort on a strand of golden sand, was the centre of a life and death struggle when, in September 2009, a massive tsunami was triggered by an offshore earthquake and powered into the southern shore of Upolu. The tsunami struck in the early hours of the morning when most people were asleep. Around 100 were swept away to their deaths while many others were injured and traumatised. Some villages and resorts have had to be completely rebuilt, some places have been abandoned and the government has encouraged people (though with only limited success) to move further inland, away from danger. I've been reading a dissertation Titmeia wrote (it's been published) bringing together the story of Noah's flood with theological reflection on the Tsunami. He includes some harrowing accounts of the night and its aftermath. 

 

In the West we tend to assume that the world is under our control. Here in Oceania, everyone is aware that we don't control our environment; the world is beautiful but fragile and unpredictable. The unpredictability has always been there and everyone accepts it. What is much more difficult to accept is the way that humanity has so carelessly abused the planet that life gets more difficult for islanders by the year. Sea levels rise so that areas become less and less habitable. The sea temperature rises (particularly in this, an El Niño year), coral reefs start to die off and fish stocks begin to disappear from the accessible inshore waters. Weather patterns become more inconsistent and so crops are harder to grow. No wonder ther are now more Samoans overseas than on the islands - often dismissed as 'economic migrants' in the countries they move to.  Mosese, the Principal, is quite vehement about what is happening, and rightly so. If nothing else, this trio has brought home the reality and the cost of climate change. It's too late to stop it happening, but we have to look for ways of limiting its extent and helping those who are its victims. And, of course, it's chastening to realise that we're all - myself included - responsible.