TUVALU (9 Oct 2008) — For Heather Keli, 2, and Misipeka Hana, 5, the fallen palm trees provide a natural playground on their tiny South Pacific island. But as the young cousins watch the waves lap around their legs, they are blissfully unaware the water that washed away the tree roots may soon rob them of their entire country. These are the children of climate change – the first generation to face the very real possibility of losing their homeland to rising sea levels, making them environmental refugees. For them, climate change is not some vague political issue – it is the gorilla invading their homes. Tuvalu, a string of narrow coral atolls barely 1m above the high-tide mark in the South Pacific, faces extinction within a century. Within their lifetime, these children will be looking for a lifeboat as the rising tide engulfs their nation – and many are hoping that lifeboat will be Australia. Australia has a long, if low-key, association with Tuvalu – AusAID is a major contributor, the National Tidal Centre maintains Tuvalu's tidal gauge, the Australian Defence Co-operation Program trains Tuvaluans and the nation uses Australian currency. While it has so far rejected requests for a migration channel, as Tuvalu slips beneath the waves Australia may yet accept the children of climate change. On Tuvalu, water is a constant. Most of the flat atolls are so narrow you can see the waves of the Pacific Ocean crashing on one side, and the waters of vast lagoons on the other. At high tide, water bubbles up through low parts of the porous coral ground, and during annual king tides water floods homes and roads as storm surges batter the coast. The main atoll of Funafuti, home to about half the nation's 10,000 people, is an elegant necklace of broken land in the vast Pacific Ocean. Its circular series of islands separated by shallow reefs encloses one of the world's biggest lagoons, a shallow sea 24km long and 17km wide. While one small section of the main island is big enough for an airstrip and town, most of the 12km long outcrop is barely wider than a highway. In many ways it is idyllic. Turquoise lagoon waters gently wash over coral reefs; beautiful beaches and coral shores are fringed by palm trees; the seafood is fresh; and the warmth endless. But this idyll is being buffeted by forces beyond its control as rising sea levels, which scientists blame on human-induced climate change, encroach on Tuvalu's 26sq km of land. The Amosa family has already lost one home to the rising waters. Saulasi Amosa built a new home on stilts for his extended family – wife Vicki, daughters Lasaini, 8, and Tafou, 2, as well as brother-in-law Siona and mother-in-law Lasaini. But his new house, with the Pacific Ocean on one side and the vast lagoon on the other, also is under threat. Each high tide, the water rises closer to the home, seeping into freshwater tanks and contaminating crops in the fields. "I am not worried for myself, but what will happen to Tafou and Lasaini in years to come? Will they have a Tuvalu?" Saulasi said. "If it gets to a point they have to leave this land because the water rises, I don't want them to lose their culture and identity. "I just don't know where they will be when it is time for them to have children and grandchildren." It is a sentiment echoed by other families. Pelute Nelu, holding grand-daughter Lautene Sionia in a hut perched by the lagoon, fears the baby will have to find a future in a new land. "Sometimes when the sea is up it washes on to the road and into our home," she said. "The coral seawall has been raised but the tides keep getting higher. Our children face being forced to leave here for another country, for safety. I'd like to think a place like Australia might welcome them. "But it is important for them to keep their heritage and traditions – we want Tuvalu to stay alive even if the land itself is below water." Tuvalu is a stable society based on extended families living close together, with a democratic tradition pre-dating this month's 30th anniversary of independence as a parliamentary democracy. They readily look after each other's children, share food and are not particularly stressed. Each evening, crowds gather to play sports and socialise on the grass next to the airstrip as the day cools – the happy cries from volleyball, touch footy, soccer and indigenous games are infectious, and they welcome strangers with the cry: "Talofa!" Even the jail has no walls, as crime is virtually non-existent. The culture remains strong despite outside influences and it is a culture they want to endure. Pualuku Tautai, nursing baby Luiza and caring for daughter Pualofa, 7, and cousins Mosikepu, 11, Peteli, 13, Isaia, 2, and Don, 9, tells how these children are growing up with rising seas. "When high tides are coming, the Government tells us to put food in buckets so we will have something dry to eat, so it won't get wet," she said. "Water comes into the houses, everything is wet." Pualuku points to a pool of water a few metres back from the shoreline. | | UNCERTAIN future: Toati in front of his home that has been battered by the rising sea level. Pic:Tricia Johnson "We used to grow cucumber and bananas here but can't any more. We can't grow fruit because of the sea water coming up," she said. Climate change is changing diet and housing on Tuvalu. Imported foods are taking over from staple crops, such as the potato-like pulaka which used to grow in freshwater swamps but are now being destroyed by seawater. Traditional thatched homes are being replaced by Western-style buildings on stilts. Acting Tuvalu Meteorological Service director Tuala Katea points to photos of people in kayaks outside his office, during the king tide flooding of February 2001. "In recent years we have seen sea levels gradually rising, and we have such low-lying land that water bubbles up through the ground during high tides," he said. "Most of the coast is now badly eroded and with only about 26sq km of land in total for Tuvalu, our research shows several per cent of that has disappeared in the past two decades. "We don't want a mass migration but most people are worried for their kids. They see no future here in 50 years. "If sea levels rise 0.5m in that time we won't be entirely under water, but with king tides and storm surges we will be in severe trouble." The long-term future of Tuvalu as a viable nation is being considered by the Government. Acting Environment Director Kilifi O'Brien says the challenge of climate change goes beyond rising seas. "We are seeing things like the cyclone season changing, and also long droughts," he said. "We have no rivers, the only way we get water is from rain and we need that water for everything. "Traditional root crops are being affected by salt water coming from underground, so we have a significant food security issue. If the ship does not arrive with rice, people face running out of food. With our own eyes, in our own lifetimes, we have seen islands gone and severe erosion from strong winds, storm surges and high tides." The evidence of climate change on Tuvalu is stark. Entire islands and beaches have disappeared, palm trees and concrete reinforcements have been swept away and the shoreline, just a few metres behind the office of government, has been eroded so badly the street sign has fallen on to the coral. Heaped mounds of coral planted with pandanus palms are being used as seawalls, but face a constant assault from water which has washed away concrete walls reinforced with metal rods. But even though the reality of rising waters is evident all around Tuvalu, some islanders are concerned that the nation's potential plight is being exploited by deep-green ideologists keen to push worst-case scenarios for their own ends. Climate change fears also have been good for Tuvalu's foreign aid budget, giving politicians a financial incentive to talk it up. Lieutenant Commander Steve Cleary, the Australian Department of Defence Maritime Surveillance Adviser to Tuvalu, is on his third tour of duty and has seen changes over the past five years but is noncommittal about the long-term threat. Tuvalu's atolls have been eroding and reforming for centuries, as circular currents take material from one area and build in another. "This area where we are now standing has built up since I was first here," he said. "I am not a scientist but I can tell you this area of coral we are standing on has grown considerably since I first came here. There are a lot of natural forces at work in these islands with sand and coral constantly shifting. "The elders will tell you, some areas get washed away but other areas grow, and it is an ongoing process." The most reliable gauge of the problem is a skinny pole rising from the water at Tuvalu's main port. The SEAFRAME (Sea Level Fine Resolution Acoustic Measuring Equipment) gauge is part of Australia's engagement with the South Pacific. It was installed by the former National Tidal Facility of Australia and is operated by the National Tidal Centre of the Bureau of Meteorology. The sea level trend to date is 5.7mm per year – a trend that could leave the children of Tuvalu cast adrift. |
