Biking and Barking: The Treasures and Threats of Travelling
TUVALU
He also wanted to see all the countries of the world. I’ve only met two guys that’ve surpassed my efforts so far, both in the 140s. While they strategically planned to “see the harder countries first”, I’ve wandered where the wind has taken me, opting for new and warm countries at every possible chance. Landing in Tuvalu now puts me at 133, still a long way to go …
From the sky, the main atoll seemed sort of like a wide brimmed smile, a stretched out horseshoe or like beautiful blue concave streaks dripped by a painter with an overloaded brush.
Six atolls and three islands totaling 26 km2 make up the country that hit the charts during the ‘dottv’ era, when the country’s domain sold for millions. Considered to be one of the the smallest countries in the world, it’s no wonder that it’s the world’s least visited. And while my cursory efforts to elicit the main attractions listed “going to the airport to watch the planes land” (yes, actually this was the #2 tourist thing to do) ironically it was the airport code, FUN, that foreshadowed my time here.
With no easy access to Wi-Fi or phones, although we talked of touring together, I didn’t see the only other tourist till the end of my stay. How do people efficiently communicate with one another here and with the larger cosmos I wondered. What a juxtaposition this was to our social media entrenched societies, hyperfixated on their phones. With its remoteness, perhaps the need or desire for interconnectivity was less valued here. In this country, it was all pen, paper, cash (no credit cards or ATMs) and a dollop of that kind of “you can pay me later” trust.
There seems to be silver linings on both sides of civilization from community cohesion to modernity. What were the deal breakers we need to leave behind and what are the keeper qualities from time immemorial that, together, we must strive to safeguard? Clearly, human progress has prizes we’ve procured along the way, yet as I try to make sense of what my society’s ‘norm’ has become, I’m not sure we’ve nailed it yet.
I miss the days in Newfoundland where our doors were unlocked, or in Dakar where everyone adopted me like family or in Yerevan where roadside fruit stands only had unattended boxes for payment and now in Tuvalu, where my driver hands me a 50 - after all, the (one and only) National Bank was having a power outage.
Armed with (borrowed) cash, I rented a bicycle - with no helmet, no working gears and a brake that screeched to a slow halt but at least had air in the tires unlike my other option - then, hit the one main road that splices the island longitudinally.
Heading south at first, I was relieved that drivers here are super chill. The vast majority are on motorbikes or scooters since very few own vehicles, after all, the mainstay mode of transport on an island that is only 4.5 meters above sea level would be to own a boat. Regardless, the road was shared by all in what seemed like a random order so no one seemed to mind my starts, stops or random U-turns when something caught my eye.
This country has a lot of dogs. Unfortunately, even though the government did a recent culling due to increased accidents and deaths, at least thrice I was totally terrified. Most that follow you can be shooed, some sleepily surrender to the humid air, but there were a few snarling hounds that I encountered that activated my survival instincts. While I push pedaled past the trio of dogs at the northern and southern tip (the latter as the island’s official “dumpsite”), I exhaled with deep gratitude that my legs didn’t have gaping gaps in them. However, the pack that came barking and running down from the upper most tip made me fold and make a speedy U-turn. As such, the sun was setting and I had to hustle back home before night fall, all limbs intact.
Along the way, I saw loads of kids enjoying some time off from school. Many of the young ones pranced around, naked.
Others in hammocks, some played marbles and others like Bayani and Mwana engaged in conversation. When asking where I was from, she said “do you know Amelia?” It seems interesting to me, how we try to find ways of making connections even amongst loose associations. Her next question had no segue “are you flexible?” she asked, then they promptly proceeded to a patch of grass aside the road to showcase their skills.
Wooshing onwards, I caught a whiff. Dismounting my bike, behind the coconut tree, I saw the handmade sign and followed it to the house.
There, I met Daniel, his wife and mom. They shared their story of how they began baking fresh bread, 144 loaves/day and how bigger machinery was in customs, soon to be added to the expansion they were planning. My first encounter with Tuvaluan hospitality was him gifting me a fresh loaf which, needless to say, I nearly devoured without much help.
The centre of the island was the widest part of the land, plumping out the slender streak of Funafuti. This main hub is incidentally referred to as ‘the village’, an apt description actually but also slightly ironic given its limited offerings. With the high cost of building materials, several of the homes here are scant, some to the point of being and resembling squatting styles. Many homes had a raised platform (due to the threat of rising water levels), a roof and perhaps a little area serving as the kitchen, outdoors.
Falevatia, a government scheme strives to build wooden toilets outdoors with an underground reservoir, aimed to battle the health breeches expected of shanty towns. Perhaps in the same public health measure, speed bumps here seemed exaggerated. I also met a few Aussies who were deployed here for governmental projects that focused on train-the-trainer sessions as well, always a good sign when education is on the agenda.
I feel grateful to have had the types of learning experiences in/formally - a student in perpetuity, I wondered how we choose courses or set the curriculum as life continues - like, what’s the next thing I want to learn about?
At 6:30pm in Tuvalu, there’s a curfew. While I was advised to freeze for half an hour, lest I be served with $100 AUD fine, I didn’t witness anything slowing down or ceasing in time for prayer - on the first day. What I did watch was a wonderful game of men playing volleyball at dusk while others no doubt, were watching the regular football games that were on at the airport from 4-6pm, usually attracting spectators from across the islands.
On or off the field, the men here usually sport basketball jerseys - the world is a small stadium after all. Home by dark, I headed up to meal prep when I met Bella, the fiancée of the owners where I was staying. In true Solomon Islander style, she offered me some of her recently cooked fried rice.
Needless to say, she was jelly that I’d recently been to her homeland and experienced the ‘Solo’ way, especially in time to witness the South Pacific Games in Honiara. That night as we talked about life on the islands, she spared me from the worst peanut butter I’d ever had and made some suggestions on other sites I could visit that would leave behind both my need to bike and ward off the voracious dogs, obviously, I was all ears!
May we be able to courageously explore new territories (within and beyond us) in spite of threats along the journey,