For this blog post I want to share something I wrote
about our time in Palmerston a few weeks back. Its bit delayed, just like the
time it took to process what an incredible experience it was.
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Mary Marsters (Center) with Lindsay (third from left) and
shipmates on Palmerston Island
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Seven family members arrived for the Sunday ritual:
Mary's daughter and son in law along with their three children, her brother and
herself. She said grace before everyone scampered off in different directions
to assemble the dishes they had prepared for our lunch. The three children ran
from the house to the gazebo for what seemed like hours, shuttling new pots of
steaming hot food to the table. Rice, taro, parrotfish (fried and pan seared),
coleslaw, fried pork, and ceviche. To top it off, each of us received a freshly
macheted coconut to drink from. My eyes
widened each time they laid a new plate on the table, shocked by the generosity
and effort that went in to our Sunday meal.
For us, as a cultural experience, it was perfect. But for
Mary, she missed family members no longer on the island. Mary's husband was in
Rarotonga at the time. Awaiting a doctor's appointment scheduled for October,
he had to leave on a ship in May to make it in time due to the lack of traffic
between the islands. She had a son in New Zealand for work and a daughter in
Rarotonga as well. This was familiar story among the extended family on this
island; the young move away, attracted by bright lights, bigger towns and the
trappings that come with a cash economy. At this moment, Palmerston has only 40
people left.
It was only a few months before that I had learned about
Palmerston.
Accepting the opportunity to sail across the South
Pacific Ocean with Stanford at Sea, I received our cruise track, which included
the island of Palmerston. It was then that I learned it was a lightly, and I
mean very lightly, populated island about a three-day boat journey from
Rarotonga.
Reading through the class syllabus, Palmerston stood out
as the island I most wanted to visit. Nothing could have prepared me for the
intense sense of community we felt immediately upon stepping foot on their
sandy soil.
They insisted that we stay in their homes and bring our
dirty laundry with us as well. I was bowled over by their generosity, even
embarrassed that these people who had so little, were eager to give us all they
had. And they were deeply interested in us: we were new people with new stories
to them - they wanted to hear from as much as we wanted to hear from them.
Rob also seemed moved by their generosity; he prompted us
to think about our time in Palmerston by asking how they could afford to give
so much away. A fair question. There is nowhere on the island to use currency
and the only source of income (as far as we could tell) comes from selling
their fishing catch to people on other Cook Islands.
When we snorkeled around the reef, we saw plenty of
beautiful parrotfish; however, upon talking to islanders it became apparent
that the size and number of these reef-chomping fish had dwindled over the
years. They used to catch fish two to three feet long; now they consistently
catch one-footers.
Many islanders refuse to think or discuss this issue,
seemingly because they rely on God to provide them the resources they need.
They believe that the fish populations depend on God's will rather than any
overfishing.
God, however, cannot explain other cultural phenomena
like the fact that the younger generations seem to be more interested in their
iPads and the latest hits rather than learning the hymns and community songs
their parents and grandparents have known for years. Mary fretted that the
children seemed uninterested in preserving this important part of their
culture. When I asked her why she thinks that is, she just shook her head and
responded, "I don't know." The Protestant church is quintessential to
the Palmerston community. Beyond the Sunday church affair when services are
held at 6am, 10am and again at 4pm, Palmerstonians gather at their newly
constructed church on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays as well for shorter
ceremonies.
Mary attends them all.
After we finished eating, the youngest family, Joy - age
7 - enthusiastically toured us around the island - less than a mile in
circumference. It was easy for her to show us each and every nook and cranny
that mattered to her. During our walk, I asked her about her family members who
had left the island, wondering what she thought of Palmerston in comparison to
Rarotonga and New Zealand. She was emphatic. She would definitely end up in Rarotonga
- "for the shopping."
Mary confessed that she spent her 30s off island, living
in New Zealand to obtain retirement benefits. Because all Palmerstonians are
New Zealand citizens they are entitled to its old-age benefits if they spend
ten years or more on the mainland. In New Zealand she lived with her son and
spent much of her time gambling in Auckland's casinos. She was excited to
return home after ten years and has since become one of the "aunties"
of the island
- leading hymns, church songs, and providing a foundation
of culture that she hopes will persuade the younger generation to stay.
The dwindling population was common topic of concern. In
our official welcome to the island, the island leader joked that we should have
delayed our arrival to five years from now when the census-takers arrived on
the island. Our class would double their population. Financial aid from the New
Zealand government is calculated on population size, and every person counts on
a scale this small.
These isolated incidents only furthered my curiosity
about this place. It offered such a rich, and idyllic island lifestyle, and yet
so many things threaten to allow the community to wither away. What will it
look like in 20 years from now? That is a question that only the islanders can
answer depending on the ways they chose to remain and interact with their
community.
Since 2014, Palmerston has seen significant changes to
its infrastructure. Previously, its only power came from a diesel generator;
the island recently received funding to put in a solar farm. No longer does the
constant hum of the generator overpower the sound of the birds and waves
crashing on the shore. Their entire community runs of solar. Each and every
child enthusiastically showed us this new advancement; the excitement was
visible in every Palmerstonian's eyes when they discussed it.
While more than half of the children move away when they
come of age, there are a few individuals keeping hope alive for the community,
like Mary's "adopted" grandson. His parents recently decided to move
to Rarotonga, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving home. His love for
the Palmerston community, his relatives and friends, their school and their
little island paradise kept him here.
Mary's daughter also opted to remain on the island. Now
the headmaster of the school on the island, she has tailored the education
system to help students who work at varying levels and paces. Her passion for
the community shined through as she told us about her work, the new curriculum,
and the teachers as well.
With a community richer than any I've witnessed, with a
people brimming with generosity, and with songs and voices that would win any
competition in the United States, I hope Palmerston remains the tight knit
community we witnessed. Even as the younger generations go away for higher
education, there seems to be something that pulls some of them back home.
During our brief stay on the island, I saw a spirit of generosity, a sense of
community that's rare to see in these modern times. I can only hope that the
strength of familial relationships and the little island paradise they have
counter the pull of social media, "shopping," and the prospect of new
experiences in new places for the islanders. It's a special place, and one
worth keeping.
-Lindsay Allison
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