RABI - Sea, sand, sun, isolation and the people

[Stacey King]

FIJI TIMES ONLINE By Theresa Ralogaivau Sunday, July 05, 2009

Rabi Islanders
NOTHING beats an island 'tonic' when it comes to de-stressing tired minds. The 'tonic' here is the music, the sights and the sounds of the island. And this can be found on a 17,000 acre volcanic island off the north east coast of Vanua Levu. Rabi Island is home to about 5000 Banabans displaced from their homeland Banaba during the Second World War. It's a haven for the tired traveller after the grueling ride from Savusavu to the boarding bay at Karoko. From Karoko, Rabi is a deep green outline that rises up to a maximum altitude of about 1550 feet above sea level.

A half boat ride in and the magnificent old architectural structures of the church buildings stand out against the side of the steep rise to the mountains. Walking barefoot along the sandy road of the main administration center at Nuku is enough to know one is in a place where the restrictions of 'urban proprieties' have no place and one can just let go and bellow out a loud laugh and not be frowned at. And smiling Banabans like motherly Aunty Waite at the lone guesthouse above Nuku that go out of their way to make you feel comfortably right at home are at the heart of the 'tonic.'

A glimpse of history

The first group of 703 Banabans, 318 of whom were children arrived on the island aboard the Triona on December 15, 1945. According to the Rabi Island Council executive officer Molly Amon her parents who were on that trip were promised houses had already been built for them.

They instead lived in tents and were given rations that lasted only two months and because it was the hurricane season and many were weak from years of imprisonment in Japanese camps on Banaba many of the elderly died. More Banabans arrived in 1975, 1977, 1981 and the final lot in 1983 when phosphate mining at Banaba ended in 1979.

Displaced and missing Banaba

Rabi is a lush tropical paradise compared to the mining devastation that is Banaba.

Tepora Teaoti, 84, one of the pioneers of the Banaban community said Rabi was a 'green vision' with water everywhere and she fell in love with the island.

But as displaced people they had lost a lot over the hundreds of mile-ocean-crossing to this paradise.

"Even though we do like it here, I was born here but there's something missing," Mrs Amon said.

"Our connections to our roots are back on Banaba," she said.

Eroding identity

"Where our roots are, that's how we identify ourselves," said Mrs Amon.

"Mining destroyed almost everything on Banaba and as we crossed the ocean to Fiji, some of our heritage like traditional dances were lost, even our language diluted and clan titles were disputed so much so that the council decided what used to be practised on Banaba would be no more," she said.

"We are Banabans not Rabians so we are teaching our younger generation to know that," she added.

A big heart

Despite their apparent huge loss the Banaban communities on Rabi have a big heart, welcoming complete strangers with all they have.

The average family income on the island stands around $30 weekly, just enough for sugar, salt and tinned stuff from Banaba Limited or the village canteen.

Yet the odd visitor is always treated to a fine meal, a good bed to sleep on and lots of laughter and stories more probably than not around the kava bowl. Banaba Limited also purchases their yaqona and copra, maintaining the island economy.

Autonomy

The nine members of the Rabi Council of Leaders looks after the affairs of the Banaban community in Fiji.

The four main villages, Tabwewa, Tabiang, Uma and Buakonikai were adapted from Banaba.

There are six kindergartens, three primary schools and a high school on the island.

The sea, sand, sun, isolation and the people

Divisional Planning Officer Northern Ratu Eliki Tikoidraubuta, who recently visited the island for council elections, drank in the pleasurable silence at the rest house that overlooked Nuku settlement and the sea.

"It's good to be here," he simply said.

When the generator went off at 10pm, soft light from candles and a type of kerosene lamp flickered somehow soothing stressed minds.

In the morning, the lone island bus made its rounds picking up school children and as it passed villages little children by the roadside swayed to the island beat pouring from the bus speakers. Women with 'tekiteki', bare feet students, laughter, gaiety and a general air of cheeriness, no sophistication, no layers, no stress makes you want to take that bus ride everyday.

Out to sea men in canoes, tiny tots building sand castles on the beach and smile, smile, and more smiles. "I normally travel in and out of Rabi especially to Suva and Labasa but there I feel it's really polluted - the air that I breathe is heavy," Mrs Amon said.

"As soon as I return I feel the crispy clean difference."

Away from pollution, from all the noise to see crystal clear seas, and amongst a race of kind hearted people Rabi's certainly an envy of the South Seas.