Ontong Java Photo Journal Climate Displacement

ONTONG JAVA CLIMATE DISPLACEMENT IN ONTONG JAVA, SOLOMON ISLANDS. PHOTOGRAPHS BY BENI KNIGHT.

ONTONG JAVA CLIMATE DISPLACEMENT IN ONTONG JAVA, SOLOMON ISLANDS. PHOTOGRAPHS BY BENI KNIGHT.

Photography Copyright Š Beni Knight/Displacement Solutions.

Publication Design by Arteria Studio.

Published December 2015.

This document was produced using vegetable based inks, environmentally sustainable practices and is printed on 100% recycled, carbon neutral paper.

Produced by Displacement Solutions Rue des Cordiers 14, 1207 Geneva, Switzerland www.displacementsolutions.org If you would like to find out how you can help the people of Ontong Java in their quest for a brighter future and to keep abreast of developments relating to our Climate Change and Displacement Initiative, please feel free to have a look at the Displacement Solutions website: www.displacementsolutions.org or write us at info@displacementsolutions.org

REEF FISHING IN KIRIBATI Image: Jocelyn Carlin Location: Kiribati

PELAU AT SEA LEVEL COVER:

WILSON AYUNGA 8yo, PELAU, ONTONG JAVA The largely unknown atoll of Ontong Java in the Solomon Islands is on the frontlines of global climate change. With neither the support of their government or the international community, the battle to keep their heads above water is one they are fighting alone. Inaccessible by air and visited only sporadically by a supply ship, the 3000 strong community is hoping to save their islands and their culture from rising tides and increasingly severe storms.

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The islands combine to make up a tiny 12 square km of land that sits no more than 3 metres above sea level and is surrounded by the vast depths of the western Pacific Ocean, and 500 km of ocean away from their capital of Honiara.

They have always lived at the mercy of the wind and waves, but this living is becoming increasingly tougher due to the changing climate and rising seas.

VISIONS FROM A VANISHING ATOLL

Few people have heard of one of the world's largest atolls - Ontong Java in the Solomon Islands – but this anonymity has not saved it from the effects of climate change.

The 3,000 strong Polynesian population are living with worsening food insecurity, severe coastal erosion and the ever-growing prospect of fleeing to an uncertain future on more elevated islands hundreds of kilometres across the sea. In June and July 2015, Displacement Solutions sent photojournalist Beni Knight to Ontong Java for two months to document and record the culture, lives and opinions of the people of the atoll.

"EVENTUALLY WE WILL BE FACED WITH THE STARK REALITY THAT WE ARE LOSING OUR HOMELAND" ~ FATHER NIGEL KELAEPA

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Ontong Java atoll - also sometimes referred to by its colonial name of Lord Howe - is a ring of 120 islands located in the western Pacific Ocean some 500 km north of Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands.

One of the most remote landmasses in the world, the islands span 1400 km2, but combine to make up only a tiny 12 km2 of land that sits no more than 3 metres above sea level. The people here have always lived at the mercy of the wind and waves, but the largely subsistence life that has served them for centuries is becoming increasingly untenable.

As with most islands in the tropics, at first glance life on the atoll seems idyllic. Palms tower above traditional homes, coconuts and fish abound, and there are banana and papaya scattered throughout the islands. People smile effortlessly and in this egalitarian society are happy to share what they have.

The days are filled with fishing, gardening, cooking and repairing homes made of palm trees and pandanus leaf. Hammocks swing under shady trees, while children play in

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the shallows of turquoise waters lapping on white sandy beaches, catching fish and eating it raw with fresh coconut. Other than the occasional trade in beche-de-mer (sea cucumber) that brings in some monetary income, the local economy remains largely subsistence in nature.

Not much news filters in from the outside world. The islanders rely only on two-way radio and the wireless, of which there are few. News outside of family circles is mostly disregarded; the common concerns are finding daily sources of food and staying out of the heat. Life goes on, but change has already arrived and nervous talk of relocation pervades a growing number of once casual discussions.

VILLAGES FADE AWAY Islander Chris Keungi is 40, and the son of a former chief. He was educated in Honiara and worked for years in many of the larger islands of the Solomons. In late July 2015 he stands on the southern point of Pelau, the island he and approximately 600 others

call home. Pointing out beyond the tip of the island, to where the village once stood, it is hard to imagine anything other than its present state, which today is a current of sea water flowing into the lagoon. “When I was ten years old there were a lot of houses here, maybe 30 houses. When I came back (after 10 years studying in Honiara) I saw a lot of changes had happened. The soil erosion had begun to wash away most of the houses that were affected by sea rise”, says Keungi. The village has retreated into the bush, forcing the islanders to cut down large areas of forest to relocate homes.

On the nearby island of Avaha, he points out another example of a lost village. “Here there was a cemetery” he says as he points into what looks like just another white sandy lagoon, “And beyond were 20 or 30 houses that made a very beautiful village”, but all that can be seen is a narrow white sandy point, just wide enough to walk down.

At the base of this sandy point there are three remaining homes, a church and an old fresh water well that is now tainted with salt. The villagers here have also retreated closer to the centre of the island where they

have rebuilt their homes, but groundwater has become contaminated, so nowadays they must rely solely on rainwater for all of their water needs.

The islands are habitable for now but the signs are not good. Not only is the ocean encroaching through high winds and waves bringing seawater and salt over the land, but due to rising sea levels it is coming from underneath, “like the island is leaking”.

The atoll is being undermined to the point where salt water is rising up through the porous coral soils into their swamp gardens and water wells that have been used for centuries. The islands are in the early stages of decay, beginning to fade away. There is not an island in the group that isn’t showing signs of major erosion, to the point where some islands have disappeared completely.

On a calm and fine day some nine years ago there was a wave (presumably a tsunami) that swept over and through the northern part of the atoll. Once it had passed, the people could see that one of their islands had relented and surrendered its last stand of trees to the sea, leaving

a bare reef between newly neighbouring islands. The stories are numerous of other lost islands, where all that remains are the bare reefs that once served as their foundations.

When witnessing the lay of the remaining islands from Keungi's canoe while returning home to Pelau, it is hard not to imagine that more islands will soon dissolve into the sea. Once upon a time they were bigger, and some were even connected to form much stronger lands, but today they seem small and fragile as they are separated by racing currents that are growing higher and wider each year, encouraged by storms and cyclones that are becoming more severe and erratic.

The weather started to become unpredictable in the early to mid-1990s according to Patrick Makau, also the son of a former chief. Makau is 55 years old and is well travelled through the western Pacific.

When he speaks of times gone by he says, “we had our own time; this month the wind will start, this month the good weather and so on. I have seen it and the old people talk

like this. We knew the time, but today we don’t. The wind comes anytime, the rain comes anytime”. These changing weather patterns are causing unease amongst the people, and to rectify this he believes; “We should go back to the old culture to see how we are going to save our people. If we listen to what our grandfathers and our fathers were telling us, then we can do something better for our island”.

DISASTER STRIKES Rising seas are only one of the threats facing the atoll. During the night of 30 June 2015 Ontong Java was hit by two simultaneous disasters. First, two very large waves hit the south side of the southern islands, followed immediately by wind gusts of up to 125 km/h from the west generated by cyclone Raquel.

The island of Luaniua, the largest of the atoll with a permanent population of 2,000 bore the force of both these extreme weather events. At around 9:30pm the incoming tide was noticed to be draining

off the reef on the ocean side of the island.

Then just before 10pm the first of two waves flooded over the usual high tide mark and into the village. This wave was followed by a second that doled out most of the damage as it broke in the tree line and ran inland, toppling homes and sending families running to the opposing shoreline just 200 metres away. As the water was receding the wind swung from the south to the west as cyclone Raquel lashed out.

With just 200 metres of land to shelter on, and disaster coming from both directions, there is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide on these islands. When disaster arrives most just gather their families and wait for it to pass.

By the time the sun rose, the villages and gardens of this tiny island were a disaster zone. An estimated 80-100 homes, kitchens and rest houses had given in to the force of the category 1 cyclone, which is the first recorded such event in the area at this time of year. While the many destroyed homes provide an immediate sense of the devastation, the gardens suffered much

worse. Precious garden soils are now tainted by salt, which led affected crops to die within two short weeks. It will take years for the soil to recover if it ever does. Some of the atoll's elders agree that since the region's most significant cyclone in 1967 the soils have never properly recovered, leading most to believe that this time it will be even worse.

GROWING FOOD INSECURITY With the changing climate and declining soil quality come new challenges for farmers struggling to grow healthy crops. Chris Poasi has cleared a parcel of his land to try new styles of gardening. “I think some things can grow in this soil and others cannot, so I am trying my best to find out which ones can grow” he says. “I always work hard to find out what can grow, but now they don’t grow very well and all the plants are dying. People need to come and see, and tell us what is happening with the ground here. When people have come before to try and help us with the gardens,

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they have just come and given us plants.

They have not come and taught us to do this or do that”.

sense of security and is leading to laziness towards traditional livelihood practices that have worked for hundreds of years.

Another food producer, Joel Keise, was born on Luaniua. After studying agriculture, he then worked within the agricultural departments of government for many years. He is now 79 years old and retired to his home on Luaniua, where he grows what can only be described as an extremely healthy garden. “I am interested to teach people how to improve the soil and how to grow good crops, but I cannot do it alone.

I must have support from the government otherwise I cannot afford to travel between islands while my own garden suffers”.

This kind of leadership and foresight needs to be embraced, but with the chiefly system breaking down on the islands and the absence of government officials on the atoll, there is a distinct lack of support for Joel and others like him. Without it the population will rely more and more on the monthly supply ship carrying rice and flour, and thus expedite processes leading ultimately to departure.

Keise’s agricultural education, dedication and inspiration are unmatched in these islands. He has created a group on Luaniua that he hopes can be a model that Ontong Java can carry into the future. He is creating a savings scheme to help the people firstly to earn money and then how to look after it and spend it. He believes the lucrative beche-de-mer is breeding a dependence on an unreliable income that is giving a false

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DESPAIR OF THE PRESENT, FEAR OF THE FUTURE - WHERE WILL THEY GO? Chris Keungi believes that without any help his people face an insufferable future. “Our government should step forward and look to the situation that we are facing here today. If anybody, any organisation, would really want to step in and intervene with our

problem, then that would be much help to us and the difficulties that we face today.

Otherwise I will be displaced, then I will have nowhere to settle for the education of my children, so we will become a devastated family.”

Keungi's views are shared by a growing number of his fellow Ontong Javanese who face growing daily challenges of accessing food and water, combined with the increasingly visible signs of coastal erosion and loss of their precious lands. Fleeing one's land to settle in new lands surrounded by new cultures with pre-existing land disputes, are decisions that are never taken lightly. When faced with the sinking reality of climate change, though, Keungi, his family and the rest of the atoll may have no choice. But where will they go? Earlier governmental plans to relocate the Polynesian people of Ontong Java to the southern tip of culturally distinct Melanesian island of Malaita have come to nought, and the prevailing absence of government officials and institutions on the atoll have led the people to begin agonizing about their future. Though a police station

was built on the atoll recently, it has never hosted a police officer. Rudimentary schools are often closed for long periods, while the 2000 inhabitants of Luaniua have no access to health care. The monthly boat service to the islands is far from reliable.

People are becoming increasingly frustrated and unsure of where to look for help as they struggle to adapt.

TO THE CAPITAL? In recent decades a small settlement of Ontong Javanese has emerged in the outskirts of the capital Honiara. Home today to some 300 residents, the settlement has given many the chance to further their education, and some the chance to relocate permanently. Father Nigel Kelaepa moved to Honiara to study when he was 14 and has since only returned to his island home on regular visits. His journey has seen him study in London and Australia before resettling in Honiara to assist his people while holding his position within the Church of Melanesia. Father Nigel has become Ontong Java's leading advocate and

pleaded his people’s predicament on the world stage in Paris later this year. Ontong Java has had trouble finding support from its own government, but now there is hope that the world will take notice and push them up the agenda of Solomon politics.

“The government has promised to do things, but so far all they have done is issue reports or assessments and then nothing else. I think the government should step up its act in terms of looking seriously into Ontong Java”. As it stands, the provincial government of the highly populated province of Malaita is responsible for any plans or action regarding the situation of the tiny outer islands. Unfortunately this narrows the possibilities for relocation, not to mention funding for adaptation infrastructure.

THE PLANNING COMMENCES Whenever the issue of relocation is raised with the residents of Ontong Java it inevitably turns emotional. People understand the growing need to move,

but most have no intention of leaving. There is widespread understanding that it will be more than just their islands that they will lose; it will be their culture, their language, their resources and their ability to live freely from them. But unknown to most of the Ontong Javanese, they are far from alone in contemplating the loss of their cherished homes. Among numerous cases already underway, indigenous Guna islanders in Panama have begun moving to the mainland, villagers throughout Bangladesh have already faced climate displacement, and more than 40 villages in Fiji are in the process of relocation. And the list sadly grows with each passing year.

As it is everywhere, relocation is a highly complex issue in the Solomons, but one that has proven more workable in the country than in many others. Land in the country remains largely under customary ownership and control, and when people from one cultural group (wantok) wish to move to new land within the same wantok territory, this can lead to favourable outcomes that enable those relocating to begin life anew in a safe and secure

environment no longer under threat from the effects of climate change.

The 2013 Peninsula Principles on Climate Displacement Within States provide guidance to governments and communities on how best to protect the rights of people needing to relocate because of climate change, and the national government is now working on a relocation framework that will hopefully draw on the Principles for inspiration.

If the day to leave finally arrives, many on the atoll have indicated a preference to move to the island of Santa Isabel some 300 km to the south, rather than to either Malaita or Honiara. They see Santa Isabel as the best chance in the Solomons of a place where they can re-establish themselves, and be welcomed as new arrivals with at least a semblance of their ancient culture and traditions in tact. To move from these islands is to lose far more than just a home, for the atoll has had permanent human occupation for as much as 2,000 years, in a cultural context where people and their lands are effectively one and the same. Ontong

Javanese universally believe that if they decide to flee their islands that they will at best be forging a new hybrid culture. Father Nigel says “we would like to maintain our identity as a people, our culture, our way of life as people from Ontong Java”. This is a genuine concern. The identities of the Ontong Javanese are intricately intertwined with their islands, so to lose those islands would mean the loss of identity, knowledge and history that will dissolve with them.

“We fear that if we have to leave, we will be assimilated into the wider culture out there and will lose our identity as a people. This is why we would still like to maintain at least a small population on the islands so that wherever we are we still have ties with the original homeland, we are still landowners”.

When asked whether or not the international community could help the islanders, Father Nigel says “We can’t expect the international community to change their lifestyle for this matter, but they could help. If feeling responsible for what has happened, it is only right that they do something to help us out with the problems that we are now facing. They

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could help with adaptation for example, or any efforts towards relocation. There have been calls for Western industrialized countries to try and bring down the global temperature rise to about 2 degrees, which should be the minimum that everyone in the small islands could survive with. So they could help in that way.�

The world met December 2015 in Paris to thrash out a new global accord on climate change. For atoll groups such as Ontong Java, the stakes could not be higher. If Paris succeeds and new vigourous rules are created and enforced that dramatically reduce CO2 emissions and secure renewed funding to protect those already grappling with the effects of climate change, the meeting will be hailed as a success.

However, if the worst CO2 emitters, which includes one of the Solomon Islands closest neighbours Australia, succeed in watering down the current text and allowing ever more fossil fuels to be burned and accessed, the 3,000 people of Ontong Java will be victimised due to no fault of their own and forced to flee the islands they have called home for generations, to an unknown

and difficult future, all because of an economic system built on non-renewable resources, predicated on unending growth, and driven by levels of greed and requisite inequality the world has never witnessed before.

The people of Ontong Java have done literally nothing to cause climate change, but have been forced by no fault of their own to endure ever worsening conditions of life that may end with them fleeing for safety. As with climate-displaced people everywhere, the Ontong Javanese are citizens and rights-holders, rights which the government of the Solomons and the international community have vowed to uphold. Working together, with the islanders at the lead, provincial government in Malaita, the national government in Honiara and NGOs, donors, the UN and other States can at the very least smooth the rougher edges of the future that awaits them. Educating the islanders on the facts of climate change and on their rights will be a good place to start. Following that, identifying land on islands where they themselves wish to move should the day

of relocation arrive and ensuring that any relocation that does take place is done with the utmost care, again with islanders at the forefront, may provide the best source of hope the islanders have had in a very long time.

BENI KNIGHT AND SCOTT LECKIE Beni Knight is a photojournalist who spent two months on Ontong Java in June-July 2015.

Scott Leckie is the Founder and Director of Displacement Solutions.

SURFING CANOES IN PELAU Wilson Ayunga surfing a canoe on small waves in the lagoon.

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FRINGING CORAL REEF OF PELAU The beauty of the atoll is undisputed, both above and below the water line.

PAULO SOLOMONGA HOLDING BECHE-DE-MER While beche-de-mer can be lucrative, governmental bans on its harvesting have in the past lasted up to 3 years, meaning a lack of income for the increasingly reliant population.

“When the beche-de-mer is banned (for longer than one year), we eat only fish and dry coconut, so it’s a very hard life” ~ Chris Poasi 11

IRINE MANU The culture of Ontong Java faces a dire future as the effects of climate change threaten to displace its people.

Without their land they cannot see how they could continue with their culture. To give up their islands they believe is to give up their identity.

NIGHT SCENE, PELAU Traditional housing is built from coconut and pandanus trees and today is adorned with the modern luxury of solar lighting. The near uninhibited darkness of the night sky is one advantage of complete isolation.

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TAINTED WELL ON AVAHA The rise of the water table has left fresh water wells contaminated with salt.

The islanders must now rely on rainwater alone.

LUANIUA FROM ABOVE The raw beauty of Luaniua, one of the two permanently occupied islands in Ontong Java, is obvious from above. The lack of any health care, policing or consistent education is generating social problems as they are being enveloped by modern ideas.

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PELAU ELEMENTARY SCHOOL Due to an unreliable shipping schedule, teachers could not return to their posts and schools remained closed through the months of June and July 2015.

COCONUT SPROUTING ON HENUA AIKU While the likelihood of relocating the population from Ontong Java becomes ever more likely with the passage of time, the people remain hopeful that they will be able to remain on their traditional lands which have sustained them and their culture for as long as 2000 years.

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CHRIS POASI WALKING THROUGH SWAMP GARDENS OF PELAU While looking green and lush at first, the signs of salt are obvious amongst the yellowing taro leaves.

Salt infiltrates from above and below, leaving taro crops reduced in size and the roots rotten.

“The swamp gardens are very small compared to how many people need to share them” ~ Chris Poasi

PELAU Smoke from a fire rises up through the canopy of pandanus and palm.

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SARAH ABORA Abora is one of the last remaining women wearing the traditional full body tattoos of Ontong Java.

She has spent her entire life on Pelau, and has seen it erode away.

She remembers a time when there was nothing except bush where the village stands today, and when people lived beyond the point of the island, as it presently lays.

“In the time of WWII things started to change and the houses started to move inland” ~ Sarah Abora

SHIP UNLOADING, LUANIUA The once self-sufficient people of Ontong Java are forced to rely increasingly on an unreliable monthly supply ship bringing rice and flour, two staples unknown until recent decades.

"Before, we didn’t rely on anyone to help and we ate well” ~ Sarah Abora 21

POLICE STATION ON PELAU A police station was built by local government though it is yet to see an officer posted.

WILLY KUMULI STANDING IN FRONT OF HIS DAMAGED HOME, LUANIUA After two large waves destroyed his home and crops, Willy Kumuli has a legitimate concern for the immediate future of life on the islands.

“We have thoughts,we have plans, but those in parliament are not looking to us for our ideas” ~ Willy Kumuli

PALMS BENDING WITH THE WIND OF CYCLONE RAQUEL, PELAU On June 30 2015 an unseasonal cyclone stormed into Ontong Java, leaving considerable devastation in its wake. Winds of over 125 km/h severely damaged the coastline, as well as crops, trees and the homes of many families.

“Now the wind and the rain can come anytime, we don’t know anymore” ~ Patrick Makau 22

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MAJOR EROSION ON HENUA AIKU Coastal erosion has accelerated greatly in recent years. Beyond the destruction caused by rising sea levels, the rising intensity and unpredictable nature of storms and winds is also taking its toll on coastlines around the atoll.

TUMERIC USED FOR BODY DECORATION, PELAU Ancient customs are practiced with pride.

HENUA AIKU The narrow nature of the islands are held together by the iconic vegetation of the Pacific.

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MOSES PAOA STANDING IN FRONT OF HIS DAMAGED HOME, LUANIUA “At around 9pm our house started to fill with water so we ran to another house.

While my children were sleeping I sat at the door and watched things, and then I saw this house moving.

I woke up my children and we ran into another house further inland, but that house also became unstable.

So I woke the children again and we went to another more permanent house further inland."

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HOME DESTROYED

BY A WAVE, LUANIUA This home was destroyed when two large waves that preceded cyclone Raquel washed into and over the island of Luaniua. With no option of high ground the unpredictable weather and rising sea levels have the population contemplating their future here.

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COOKING FISH IN PELAU Brian Amoa frying fresh fish in a typical outdoor kitchen.

ROSEMARY POU PREPARING PUMPKIN LEAVES FOR COOKING, PELAU Pumpkin leaf is one of the only green vegetables eaten on the atoll.

PATRON LALIANA SITTING IN FRONT OF HIS GARDEN ON PELAU Experimental taro gardens have not lived up to expectations because of salinized soils that lack crucial nutrients for productive agriculture.

“The gardens here are no good now” ~ Patron Laliana 28

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SOUTHERN POINT, PELAU Standing next to a make-shift sea-wall Patrick Makau looks out to where the village once stood. The foundations of the once dry land can still be seen.

We should go back to old culture to see how we are going to save our people. If we listen to what our grandfather and our father was telling us, then we can do something better for our island� ~ Patrick Makau

WILSON AYUNGA, PELAU If current sea level rises continue at their current rate, the children of Ontong Java may have no other option than to relocate to safer lands elsewhere.

MAJOR EROSION OF CEMETERY ON LUANIUA A local cemetery on Luaniua shows immediate signs of coastal erosion. It was inundated during a large wave event that also destroyed crops and homes.

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LORD HOWE SETTLEMENT IN HONIARA The Lord Howe (Ontong Java) settlement in Honiara is large enough for only 200-300 people, with no room for growth. Land must be found elsewhere to facilitate a possible relocation in the future. Given the choice, most islanders would prefer to move as a group to the larger island of Santa Isabel, but to date such a move appears unlikely.

PELAU VILLAGE As the villages have retreated inland, family claims on land have become smaller and smaller, leaving houses in close proximity of each other. The pride of a tidy village is still obvious.

BRIAN AMOA HUSKING COCONUTS, PELAU Locals take full advantage of being surrounded by coconuts, the lifeline of the Pacific.

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HENUA AIKU BEING INUNDATED BY SEA WATER The consequences of climate change are already very obvious to the people of Ontong Java.

The island of Henua Aiku has started to split in two as seawater is now infiltrating through its centre, leaving signs of a bleak future regarding food security and erosion.

WESTERN RIM OF ONTONG JAVA Whilst appearing idyllic, these small islands are remnants of once larger and stronger lands that have relented to the rising seas.

ONE OF THREE HOMES LEFT STANDING, AVAHA On the island of Avaha 30-40 homes and a cemetery were consumed by the rising seas.

Where now there is a fragile finger of white sand there was once a beautiful and thriving village.

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TRADITIONAL DANCE GROUP, PELAU Centuries old dance routines form an integral part of maintaining the unique culture and identity of the people.

EROSION ON HENUA AIKU Signs of fresh erosion are as obvious as they are plentiful.

This stretch on Henua Aiku was exposed overnight during the high winds of Cyclone Raquel.

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SMALL OUTPOST ON LUANIUA The proximity of houses to the shoreline is obvious from above. With no option to build elsewhere the locals are left to rebuild after each disaster and wait for the next.

PAUL HUIA FISHING THE WESTERN RIM OF ONTONG JAVA While land resources are proving unreliable, there is a sea full of resources to help maintain the population. Though according to locals this is becoming less productive and involves travelling further than in times gone by.

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