|
Aussie
|
Jem Natividad
4 hrs ·
I loved flying kites as a kid.
I had this one kite in particular - I thought it was just the fanciest in the world. I'd get home from school everyday, run inside, grab the kite, and set it up on the abandoned property across the street from my house. The property was this abandoned stately building, which I never really knew what its purpose was. It was set high up on a hill, and surrounded by this mass of paved landscape, and looked out over the harbour.
I would stand there, letting the line roll further and further out, as the tropical winds allowed my kite to soar. There, the Pacific sun shone through the red material of my kite, and I'd pretend that this magnificent kite was some sort of signal for the ships which came only ever so often to the harbour.
The ships that came to the island came only in a few forms. Passing naval ships would occasionally dock there, maybe once or twice a year. More frequent were the mining ships, loaded with the last dwindling remnants of phosphate which the island held. There would be the once-a-month ship from Australia, holding water and groceries for the 6000 or so residents that called this island home, which led to mass crowds at the island's lone large supermarket the next day.
Up on the top of this hill from where I flew my kite, I could see so much of the island, but for the parts I didn't see, I could ride my bike around and explore through the trees and coastline.
Much of the island was exposed back then - abandoned mines, WWII jeeps and planes (haunted, if you listened to the local tales) amongst the phosphate skeletons, tracks trodden by miners and locals alike through the years. The island jungle, of course, had begun to exert its natural course, vines and trees started to creep green, hiding man's will to tap the island dry. The coastline was rich with reef, and I'd spend afternoons and weekends swimming amongst the coral, armed with a snorkel and the armour of fearless youth.
I had friends on the island. The local islander kids who'd take me to Buada Lagoon and feed me yams, bananas, and pork, the same kids I would fight through the lines during recess to buy 20c slices of vegemite and margarine on bread from nuns. The one or two Australian kids that'd maybe spend a semester of school there before their parents would send them back home. The Chinese kids I'd meet up with in the afternoon and explore the Chinese Quarter.
Mostly though, it was me, and a whole island to explore.
Repubrikin Naoero, or the Republic of Nauru, once-upon-a-time Pleasant Island, has its own story. Once claimed by the German empire, then a League of Nations mandate (administered by Australia, New Zealand and the UK), occupied by the Japanese, and then finally gaining independence in 1968.
Phosphate was discovered by a prospector in 1900, which formed the backbone of Nauru's economy for the century to come. By the late 1960s, Nauru's GDP per capita of $50 000AUD was the highest of any sovereign nation (equates roughly to $350 000 in 2016 terms).
Despite this wealth, by the time I lived there in the late 80s, the housing was simple - reminiscent of growing up the Philippines. The kids had dreams of going all the way to Australia to continue their education, or maybe move to Kiribati, Tonga, or Tuvalu. There wasn't much more on this island for them - all 21 sq kms of it, which sat 40kms south of the Equator. They all knew that the phosphate on this island wasn't to last forever.
In 1970, Nauru purchased its mining rights from its previous colonial ruler (Australia) for $20 million AUD, and soon after the Nauru Phosphate Royalties Trust was established to manage the annual $100 million phosphate industry. At its height, this Trust was responsible for roughly $1 billion. Such was the wealth of a nation that there was conversation of buying another island for the Nauruans to move to once their island was 'done'.
Through time, gross mismanagement, and developing world governmental corruption, this dwindled to about $100 million as it stands now. The current GDP is somewhere between $2500 - $5000.
Last night, I went to a Refugee Action Committee event, where four Whistleblowers spoke about their experiences, in various capacities, with our Immigration Detention Centres in Nauru. One of the Whistleblowers, Toby Gunn, related the story of how one child in the camp hoarded dental floss for a year, scavenged kebab sticks and a plastic bag, and fashioned himself a kite that he'd fly.
Not thirty years ago, I was a kid flying a kite in Nauru, and in entirely different circumstances. I flew my kite because I was free to spend a childhood on a beautiful Pacific island. He was a child who flew a kite behind a fence, surrounded by guards, and housed in bureaucratic purgatory.
Now, we can talk about it in a lot of different ways.
We can talk about how Nauru itself is a nation desperate to claim existence in a wealth squandered. We can talk about about how Australia has been entirely complicit in using this nation's standing as a third party to its perceived immigration issues and very real abuses of human rights. We can talk about the Nauru Papers. We can talk about stopping boats, at whatever cost to whatever end. We can talk about how, through Australian Government actions, we've turned an island nation's legacy to little more than a place name for our detention centres.
(Cont.)
|
Forum
Pages: 
Nauru disgrace. (Read 16974 times)
