blindpig
04-24-2010, 06:52 AM
Tuvaluans are eager to get their stories out, in part, because they want the world to know how things have changed for them and to ask for help in keeping the sea at bay. They also want their way of life captured for future generations, before the old ways are gone forever. Before there is nothing left of their homes and gardens. They talk to activists and environmentalists and journalists and filmmakers, to anyone who might listen. The residents explain what the rising water means to them and chronicle the changes they have witnessed over time. Here are some of their stories, told mostly in their own words.
http://www.moyak.com/papers/kids.jpg
Young Tuvaluans are already being sent away to safer environs where they can get better educations and have more choices for the future. Some parents are no longer willing to wait until they have no chance of escape, and as a result, entire families are relocating to countries such as New Zealand. When you consider the flooding, the erosion, gigantic freaky waves, and high tides, perhaps it is not surprising that many more of Tuvalu's people are considering leaving.
"I'm worried about the islands," said one woman with tears in her eyes. "This is the best island I know, and I think it's going to end up under the sea. We're thinking of migrating to New Zealand. I don't want my children to see this, it's enough."
"I think it would be better if my kids were somewhere else," said hospital worker Beia Fetau, 40, preparing to help with Sunday school in shirt, tie and traditional male "sulu," or skirt.
Many islanders have noticed changes taking place around them. Tauala Katea talks of the ten feet of beachfront that have disappeared on the island of Vaitupu over the last ten years. Falealuga Apelamo, 77, a retired fisherman and farmer, says one small islet from the nearby atoll of Nukufetau has "drowned," another is almost gone and the sea is crashing through a third. "The big waves and winds and storms used to come in November and December," he adds. "Now it's any time of the year." At the southern end, old-timers say, their meeting hall used to stand in the middle of the village. Now it is waterfront property.
Don Kennedy is a first-hand witness to the encroaching sea on Tuvalu's shores. "I grew up in Tuvalu as a child and left as a young man. When I lived there I had never heard of such things as hurricanes or king tides. Now the king tides go right up to the houses and they're becoming more frequent every year. In Tuvalu they used to say it was the hand of God and God that will look after them. But now there is evidence of climate change. A few educated people are expecting catastrophe to happen."
Kennedy no longer lives in Tuvalu, deciding to make a new home for his family in New Zealand. He is also determined to see that the people he left behind have a chance for a new life some place else. He is raising money to build a new settlement on the Fijian island of Kioa.
Losi Tuaga, 18, also contemplates and worries about the rising sea levels as tides flood homes, buildings, and parts of the airport, while she stands in ankle deep seawater near her home. Her father, Tuaga Petelu, says the climate is rapidly changing. "There is a change in the sea level," he said. "What can we do? We have to wait and see what's happening."
Storms used to be the most frightening times on the small coral atolls, but now a nice day can also bring disaster for no apparent reason. "Last August," Prime Minister Saufatu Sopoanga explains, "on a clear, calm day, a sudden wave surge rolled in from the sea and washed across Funafuti into the lagoon, flooding houses. Here in Tuvalu we don't need to refer to reports because we see the evidence with our own eyes every day."
Retired sea captain, Lotu Pasefika, wades knee-deep in front of his house as the floodwaters continue to rise and the ocean crashes onto the rock rampart 100 feet away. "The first wave broke in when I was down the beach feeding my pigs," he said. "It came without warning. So I went to alert people. The second wave came in then, and that was the one that brought all the debris ashore. We've had high tides before. But this is the first time it's reached my doorstep," he explained, gesturing to the water still flowing down the island's main road.
Funafuti Conservation Area Officer Semese Alefaio reminisces about better times before the storms became more frequent and the sea was not so menacing. Lush forests and wide sandy beaches have been reduced to barren narrow sandbars, strewn with garbage.
Teautu Teuria says that the last six years have seen a 10 meter strip of his land washed away by the tides. "I had to dig up the skeleton of my brother and make him a new grave further inland."
A local man points out a rusted field gun left over from World War II's Battle of Tarawa, in which U.S. Marines seized the island from the Japanese in 1943. "Even at high tide, that gun used to be 15 or 20 m from the shore," he says. Now the sea laps at its base.
"It used to be puddles. Now it's like lakes," said Hilia Vavae, local meteorologist.
"A month ago the tide came right here," the sarong-clad old man said, pointing 3 feet away to the lip of his concrete-slab patio. "It's getting dangerous," he said, with the thunder of waves as a backdrop.
"People got especially worried when the runway flooded. That's new," Margaret Bita, 45, told a visiting reporter after Sunday church services.
Siaosi Finiki, 68, the chief of Funafuti, gives the history of ten generations of his family, who lived on Tuvalu and survived by fishing and farming. He points to what is left of his croplands. "Look at this plant," he says dejectedly, running his finger on the yellowed edge of a leaf. "It's limp. It's no good." He dips a finger into the water that runs in a shallow drainage channel. "Salty," he says. Seawater, Finiki says, has infiltrated the layer of fresh water that sustained his plants. When did it start? "Maybe five years ago," he says, referring to the same storm that swamped Tepuka Savilivili, in Funafuti's lagoon. "A big wave came ashore and covered the land. Since then, people aren't planting so much. The fruit is smaller and doesn't taste good. Sometimes it's rotten. I'll plant as long as I live," he says. "The crop is no good, but I'll keep planting."
http://www.moyak.com/papers/tuvalu-climate-change.html
http://www.moyak.com/papers/kids.jpg
Young Tuvaluans are already being sent away to safer environs where they can get better educations and have more choices for the future. Some parents are no longer willing to wait until they have no chance of escape, and as a result, entire families are relocating to countries such as New Zealand. When you consider the flooding, the erosion, gigantic freaky waves, and high tides, perhaps it is not surprising that many more of Tuvalu's people are considering leaving.
"I'm worried about the islands," said one woman with tears in her eyes. "This is the best island I know, and I think it's going to end up under the sea. We're thinking of migrating to New Zealand. I don't want my children to see this, it's enough."
"I think it would be better if my kids were somewhere else," said hospital worker Beia Fetau, 40, preparing to help with Sunday school in shirt, tie and traditional male "sulu," or skirt.
Many islanders have noticed changes taking place around them. Tauala Katea talks of the ten feet of beachfront that have disappeared on the island of Vaitupu over the last ten years. Falealuga Apelamo, 77, a retired fisherman and farmer, says one small islet from the nearby atoll of Nukufetau has "drowned," another is almost gone and the sea is crashing through a third. "The big waves and winds and storms used to come in November and December," he adds. "Now it's any time of the year." At the southern end, old-timers say, their meeting hall used to stand in the middle of the village. Now it is waterfront property.
Don Kennedy is a first-hand witness to the encroaching sea on Tuvalu's shores. "I grew up in Tuvalu as a child and left as a young man. When I lived there I had never heard of such things as hurricanes or king tides. Now the king tides go right up to the houses and they're becoming more frequent every year. In Tuvalu they used to say it was the hand of God and God that will look after them. But now there is evidence of climate change. A few educated people are expecting catastrophe to happen."
Kennedy no longer lives in Tuvalu, deciding to make a new home for his family in New Zealand. He is also determined to see that the people he left behind have a chance for a new life some place else. He is raising money to build a new settlement on the Fijian island of Kioa.
Losi Tuaga, 18, also contemplates and worries about the rising sea levels as tides flood homes, buildings, and parts of the airport, while she stands in ankle deep seawater near her home. Her father, Tuaga Petelu, says the climate is rapidly changing. "There is a change in the sea level," he said. "What can we do? We have to wait and see what's happening."
Storms used to be the most frightening times on the small coral atolls, but now a nice day can also bring disaster for no apparent reason. "Last August," Prime Minister Saufatu Sopoanga explains, "on a clear, calm day, a sudden wave surge rolled in from the sea and washed across Funafuti into the lagoon, flooding houses. Here in Tuvalu we don't need to refer to reports because we see the evidence with our own eyes every day."
Retired sea captain, Lotu Pasefika, wades knee-deep in front of his house as the floodwaters continue to rise and the ocean crashes onto the rock rampart 100 feet away. "The first wave broke in when I was down the beach feeding my pigs," he said. "It came without warning. So I went to alert people. The second wave came in then, and that was the one that brought all the debris ashore. We've had high tides before. But this is the first time it's reached my doorstep," he explained, gesturing to the water still flowing down the island's main road.
Funafuti Conservation Area Officer Semese Alefaio reminisces about better times before the storms became more frequent and the sea was not so menacing. Lush forests and wide sandy beaches have been reduced to barren narrow sandbars, strewn with garbage.
Teautu Teuria says that the last six years have seen a 10 meter strip of his land washed away by the tides. "I had to dig up the skeleton of my brother and make him a new grave further inland."
A local man points out a rusted field gun left over from World War II's Battle of Tarawa, in which U.S. Marines seized the island from the Japanese in 1943. "Even at high tide, that gun used to be 15 or 20 m from the shore," he says. Now the sea laps at its base.
"It used to be puddles. Now it's like lakes," said Hilia Vavae, local meteorologist.
"A month ago the tide came right here," the sarong-clad old man said, pointing 3 feet away to the lip of his concrete-slab patio. "It's getting dangerous," he said, with the thunder of waves as a backdrop.
"People got especially worried when the runway flooded. That's new," Margaret Bita, 45, told a visiting reporter after Sunday church services.
Siaosi Finiki, 68, the chief of Funafuti, gives the history of ten generations of his family, who lived on Tuvalu and survived by fishing and farming. He points to what is left of his croplands. "Look at this plant," he says dejectedly, running his finger on the yellowed edge of a leaf. "It's limp. It's no good." He dips a finger into the water that runs in a shallow drainage channel. "Salty," he says. Seawater, Finiki says, has infiltrated the layer of fresh water that sustained his plants. When did it start? "Maybe five years ago," he says, referring to the same storm that swamped Tepuka Savilivili, in Funafuti's lagoon. "A big wave came ashore and covered the land. Since then, people aren't planting so much. The fruit is smaller and doesn't taste good. Sometimes it's rotten. I'll plant as long as I live," he says. "The crop is no good, but I'll keep planting."
http://www.moyak.com/papers/tuvalu-climate-change.html