Eighteen Days, Eighteen Atolls: Aboard the Astrolabe in the Tuamotu Archipelago, November 1989

Moshe Rapaport

Few continental inhabitants are familiar with atolls. Few have stood on one and looked across the lagoon to the small islets on the other side. I have visited and lived on atolls in various parts of the south seas. I have walked the reefs in fair weather and conversed with the fishermen. I have also been caught there during storms, the lagoons and seas a deep, purple raging fury. Oval rings of coral surrounding clear, and sometimes deep lagoons, they are submerged volcanoes capped with hundred of feet of coral growth. Endowed with resounding poetic names which hint of the prehistoric colonization of the Pacific, the Tuamotus are a chain of atolls extending for almost a thousand miles east of Tahiti. They are the largest contiguous group of atolls in Polynesia, perhaps in the world.

They are home to over seven thousand people. The hardy inhabitants spend much of their time in the lagoon, the reefs, or the sea, harvesting clams, squid, sea turtle, lobster, and fish. The main sources of income are copra (air-dried coconut meat) and black pearl. Long sea voyages are commonly made between atolls, but motorized speedboats and copra ships have replaced outriggers and double canoes, and they use modern navigational techniques. Imported flour and rice have now replaced pit-taro and breadfruit. However, in the evenings, guitars and ukuleles still strum traditional melodies, accompanying stories and songs about near-forgotten heroes who lived, loved, and fought with each other eons ago.

To me, coral atolls have always seemed like magical rings, earthly materializations of a realm which miraculously persists in a world increasingly dominated by the mundane.

To administer this vast group of islands, there is an annual or biannual tour through the three sectors of the archipelago. The expeditions take place on the Astrolabe, a government vessel about the same size as the copra boats that also ply the same waters. Originally built to train merchant marine students in placid continental river beds, the Astrolabe is less well suited for visits to the far flung archipelagoes such as the Tuamotus. It has a round hull, lacks a keel, and is consequently endowed with a formidable, continuous heave even in the most placid of waters. The cabins hold less than 20 berths. The majority of these are occupied by civil servants, while several islanders may take their passage on the rear deck.

Accompanying the tour are a French and a Tahitian administrator; gendarmes; technical repairpersons; utilities representatives; agents of the copra and artisanal industries; representatives of the bank and the local labor unions; and doctors, nurses, and dentists, and other professionals. Upon the arrival at an island, there is a municipal meeting at which community needs and problems are discussed. Meanwhile, the various professional and technical workers depart to their respective posts to fulfill their responsibilities. Following this, there is usually a community reception and dinner.

Because of a contact in the territorial government in Papeete, I was given the rare opportunity to accompany the tour of the Eastern Tuamotus. This is an eighteen day voyage through the smallest and most isolated atolls. It is a sensitive tour because it passes quite close to the restricted military zones of Hao and Mururoa. Although I did not want to interfere with the scarce time available for official duties, I attended some of the municipal meetings and observed the activities of some of the technical workers. I also toured the villages and gathered some brief impressions.

When the Papeete meteorologists announced high winds from the north and rough seas in the Tuamotus, I knew that our expedition was going to be affected. However, there could not be any further delays because of the logistics of rescheduling over twenty persons. After a week of waiting at the Papeete piers, the Astrolabe finally left for the Tuamotus. As I expected, the tour was indeed to be a continuous battle with the elements. Many of us were seasick for several days, particularly along the long two or three day stretches between islands. Two days out of Papeete, we reached our first landfall--though beachfall might be more appropriate for the atolls. Its name was Hereheretue.

Like most of the Eastern atolls, the harbor of Hereheretue is too shallow for sea going boats like the Astrolabe. In fair weather, it can accomodate small, motorized whale-boats which are normally used to carry passengers and cargo back and forth to the wharf. However, because of the exceptionally rough north swell, the harbor was inaccessible. We had to circle to the reefs on the southern side. Judging the waves carefully, the skipper of the whale-boat guided the boat along the swells onto the reef, quickly discharged passengers and cargo, and immediately returned to the water. If he tarried too long, the next set of waves might cause loss of cargo and possibly serious injury.

Despite a minute population of only about four families, we were feted with sea turtle, tridacna clams, and coca cola. Following this, I was taken to see a marae on the east shore of the atoll. We traversed the lagoon by a small boat to one of the far islets, crossed over the coconut groves to the ocean shore, and walked along the coral rubble towards the marae. This was apparently one of the few marae which had escaped the notice of the missionaries. Consequently, it had remained practically intact--court sidings, platform, and a single upright. Facing southeast, I was told that it marked the landing site of the first chief of the atoll, who had sailed long ago from Mangareva in the Gambier Islands.

The marae are the sacred places of Eastern Polynesia. They were the site of religious ceremonies in precontact times. Standing in front of three or more uprights--massive coral slabs placed on end--the chief would invoke the ancestors and awaken the gods. The most important ceremonies occurred in October and November, coinciding with the arrival of the great sea-turtles. The turtles were ritually sacrifice, roasted in the traditional coral ovens, and then distributed to the community.

Nobody could tell me why so few people live on this atoll. Maybe because of its extreme isolation, hundreds of miles from Anaa, its closest neighbor to the north.

During the next day and a half, we sailed towards Tematagi, an atoll less than a hundred miles west of Mururoa. Here, too, only a very small population was present. They survive on copra and occasional assistance from the nearby military base. This island, and several of its neighbors was permanently inhabited only relatively recently, due to the efforts of Father Victor some forty years ago. This man, a Catholic missionary of the Order of Sacred Hearts, is revered throughout the islands because of the tens of thousands of coconut palms he personally planted in his efforts to open up new land for human settlement.

In heading from Tematagi to the Gambiers, the course of the Astrolabe lies almost directly between Mururoa and Fangataufa, waters which are normally off-limits to civil vessels. Thus, considerable pains were taken to deviate southward in the next phase of our journey. The skies were grey and overcast as we cruised past these islands. The seas were not at all Pacific. The railings and decks of the Astrolabe were caked with salt and the evidence of seasickness. Much later we heard that a nuclear test series had been exploded at exactly the time we were there.

The French are reportedly phasing out their tests in the Tuamotus, apparently due to scientific advances and economic limitations. Many questions can now be tested in microscopic form in carefully designed laboratory replicas which model the temperatures and pressures produced during detonations. Moreover, and perhaps more significantly, France is facing economic pressures on the home front which may loom greater than its overseas imperatives.

On approximately our fifth day at sea, we made a welcome stopover at Mangareva. Unlike the Tuamotuan atolls, which are all just a few feet above sea level, the Gambiers are high volcanic islands which are partially submerged in a vast lagoon. Its waters are among the richest in Polynesia for black pearl culture, but many of the fish are extremely toxic. The Astrolabe was piloted through the lagoon by a small boat that met us at the pass.

Rikitea is a neat village of stone houses located in a green, inviting valley on Mangareva, in the Gambier Islands. Over six hundred persons live in this beautiful village at the end of the world. They have their own language and culture, but there is considerable contact with the nearby southeastern Tuamotus. The first Catholic missionaries in French Polynesia built a magnificent church here that is still used for Sunday services. From here, missionary efforts continued to spread northwards throughout the Eastern Tuamotus, a region which remains today stolidly Catholic.

To recuperate from a week at sea, three of us climbed up the highest of the peaks on Mangareva. We were rewarded by a panoramic view of the village, the bay, the lagoon, and the neighboring islands. In the evening, we were entertained by the villagers with feasting and dancing until the lights went out. We anchored overnight at the Rikitea wharf, large enough for the Astrolabe. Early the next morning, at our departure, there was more than one young woman hoping to be taken away forever by a friend of the past evening.

Fuelled by the introduction of airports, video, and now satellite television, the expectations of the people were rising, but there is little opportunity on the islands. The soil is poor, the weather unpredictable, and transport equally unreliable. Consequently, only fragments of families live on the islands. Frequently, an old grandmother, a wife, or a young man work the land and maintain the household all by themselves. Petty rivalries and disputes plague the community and divide those few remaining on the island.

The future is little better for those willing to move to Papeete. Even the best of the young people can rarely compete with those educated in Papeete, in the heart of Tahiti. The outer islanders are regarded as inferior people by many Tahitians and work in hard labor or in a variety of menial, ill-paying tasks. They seldom find positions in administration or the professions.

Following a brief stop at Tureia, just north of Mururoa, we had been scheduled to land on three tiny atolls which are had been studied by the archaeologist, Kenneth Emory some sixty years ago—Vairaatea, Nukutavake, and Vahitahi. I had spent five weeks on these islands this past summer. I was especially looking forward to landing in Vairaatea, where I had recorded ancient songs and traditions, and where I had made many close friends.

We arrived at the southern side of Vairaatea Atoll before dawn. I awoke to find the waves breaking hard on the brick-red southern reefs. We headed north to the village at the northern tip of Puka Ruga but the village harbor was frothing with sea-foam and impossible to enter. So we circled back to Ogoga, a little islet on the southern reefs which belonged to my friend Tekahuitagaroa. Several of the islanders were standing ankle-to-knee high on the reef flats adjoining Ogoga, but I could not tell if any of my friends were there.

Two small boats were sent out to the ship from the lagoon. The first capsized and had to return but the second made it to the ship and tried to persuade us to land. They had prepared a turtle feast for us and had been counting on some of the government services. However, the captain refused to take the risk. After several hours of negotiation, we abandoned Vairaatea and headed northward.

We also had to pass Nukutavake because of the heavy seas. We skipped Vahitahi altogether and sailed northeastward towards Reao, a lone island at the extreme eastern edge of the archipelago.

Reao is unique. The language and the physical characteristics of the islanders are so different that they are thought to represent an ancient, pre-Polynesian remnant. Although the atoll was formerly used as a leper colony for the archipelago, today only a few lepers remain. The head of the local church, quite aged today, is one of these people.

The enthusiasm of their welcome was extraordinary. The entire school population lined up at the municipal building, decorated in palm frond hats, and greeted us in speech, song, and raising the flags of France and French Tahiti, and gifts of beautiful, colored shell necklaces were given to all of us. Following the ceremony, the entire crowd rushed en mass in a spontaneous parade to a field in which the new sports center was dedicated. We returned to the municipal meeting, where the usual affairs were discussed. The state would provide so many boat engines, building supplies, and bags of cement for cisterns. The territory would provide for the schools and other needs. The councilors of Pukarua, a neighboring atoll made their own requests, but they were outnumbered by the greater number of representatives from Reao, the center of the commune.

Both ancient and modern dances were performed for us afterwards, including a traditional spirit dance. A man dressed in coconut bark and a pointed head-covering dashed about in mock menace of the dancers and the audience. The musicians and the dancers were encouraged to a feverish pitch by this remnant of pre-contact culture. In the late afternoon, we were driven to the reefs on the southern tip of the atoll by the village truck, accompanied by the musicians, the spirit man, and a host of local children who ran whooping after the truck for the better part of a mile.

Because of continuing rough seas, we were also unable to land at Tatakoto. Our next stops were Amanu, and Hao. In contrast to the rest of the Eastern Tuamotus, both are quite large atolls, and have wide, natural passes which are deep enough for sea-going vessels.

As in many of the large atolls, the village at Amanu is situated right along the pass, and benefits from the fisheries along the luxurious coral reefs near the pass. This area is especially rich in nutrients as it is the point where the the lagoon discharges into the sea. Despite the large size of this atoll, there is only a small community. Apparently, many of the residents have been attracted by the superior opportunities offered at neighboring Hao Atoll, the logistics site for French military activities in the Southeastern Tuamotus.

There are a number of bars on Hao village which service the military personnel. These are often the site of brawls which are comparatively rare on the neighboring atolls. One government official on board the Astrolabe even refused to land on Hao because of his disdain for the village. However, to my surprise, I had a friend on the atoll. An author and songwriter, she had heard by radio that I was to be accompanying the tour. She invited me to her home and showed me some of her works and a treasured puta tupuna--a book of family genealogies, ancient songs, and stories in the Tuamotuan language.

In the evening, a group of us went to the lagoon wharf to get back to the Astrolabe. The night was moonless and the ship was recognizable in the distance only by its lights. However, no movement was seen aboard. Mr. Louis, the French administrator attempted unsuccessfully to contact the ship by portable radio transmitter. He called repeatedly, "Hao, Hao: Astrolabe!" but to no avail. After a resounding and surrealistic chorus by the lot of us failed to attract any attention from the lagoon, the sleeping sailors were finally roused by lighting a fire on top of a pile of blocks. A whale-boat was finally sent out. However, it got lost in the pitch darkness and was stuck repeatedly on the numerous patch reefs in the lagoon. Only after considerable efforts by the crew and ourselves, did it finally reach the wharf.

Tahiti and its neighboring archipelagoes have been a territory of France for over a hundred years. Despite diplomatic opposition to French presence by New Zealand and other countries, the local populations continue to support the status quo because of development aid. However, because of the small populations and remoteness, development in the Tuamotus continues to lag behind that of the main islands. In spite of recently built harbors and airports on many atolls, transportation is still problematic. Schools are insufficiently staffed and few Tuamotuans have been trained for professional and administrative work. There is considerable efforts to improved community water supplies, but adequate sanitary facilities are some distance off. On many islands, health facilities are still rudimentary.

Like in other rural areas throughout the world, the acquisition of western technology has become the primary goal of most people, while there is relatively little concern with the indigenous culture or the environment. It is now quite difficult to find people who can tell the history of their islands. I was told more than once, "The last of the old people died just a few years ago." Meanwhile, man-made changes in the reef ecosystem may become a threat to the health of both the populations and their environment. The departure of the most promising persons for Papeete and other towns has caused a leadership vacuum in some atoll communities, leading to a situation of near anarchy.

The magic has not yet faded. I recall the joy of casting alone for fish in deep reef crevices while the surf pounds on the lee side of Puka Ruga on Vairaatea. I dream of golden afternoons diving amidst swarms of harmless blue-green medussa and huge manta rays in the vast lagoons of Tureia and other atolls. I still talk about evenings without television or electricity, listening to songs of the heroes and the gods in the home of Tekahuitagaroa. And vivid images of young men in in tiny villages, asked what gifts they would like from Hawaii, answering with gusto and much twinkling of the eyes, “Vahine! Vahine!”