Fanning Island, all 13 square miles of it, is an atoll halfway between Hawaii and Australia.
The land, formed from coral, does not rise higher than six feet above sea level, however, the thick forests of coconut palm trees and native bushes reach up to ninety feet high. This makes the little speck of land visible from a vessel sixteen miles from out to sea.
The atoll encloses an emerald colored lagoon no more than 7 miles across at the widest point, it is roughly shaped like a giant foot print. The official name of Tabuaeron actually means 'hallowed footprint'. The common name of Fanning originates from Captain Edmund Fanning's landing in 1798, at which time the island was totally uninhabited - not a Polynesian in sight on this arid south sea paradise.
Now, about 2000 people of Polynesian descent and one Frenchman named Bruno live here. The latter ownes the only sailboat on the entire island. He runs a bed and breakfast, which is rather intriguing as there is nothing but the extremely rare cruise ship and a quarter annual supply ship ever touch the island. There are also no restaurants, where other meals apart from breakfast could be purchased.
The Polynesian polupation lives in dwellings constructed of everything from corrugated iron, bricks, plywood and woven palm-leafs. There even was one old container topped with a palm frond roof, that served as a home. There is no electricity, running water, sewer system, neither are there restaurants, bars, abundantly stocked stores, internet or television. I espied one solar panel and a few small Honda generators. There are also two radio towers to connect to the outside world. There are a couple of schools, something like a medical centre, a few solidly built communal halls, soccer fields and 'container gardens', where taro and banana grow inside rainwater created 'pools'. There is a small pier, where our tenders docked.
The residents welcomed us with tamuree dances, harmonic south sea singing, drumming and guitar playing. There were different spots around the big 'grassy' village square, where costumed men sang and danced, where the elder women sang and danced, and where grass skirted kids of the tiniest version sang and danced. In the big communal hall, various clans celebrated 4 October World Teacher's Day with dance and song competitions between the different families.
Here and there elders and children, dressed in traditional Polynesian gear posed for photographs. The gear was woven from coconut fibre, thick, rough, brown, covering everything even arms, hands and legs with a heavy organic armour. Most of the elderly people lacked teeth, no dentist ashore. The majority of the population looked healthy and happy, there is fish in the sea and tropical produce growns in abundance. Pigs are tied to palm trees by one of their hind legs, and chickens roam through the villages by the dozen. A couple of tiny stores sell delicacies such as Spam, tobacco, flour and rice, however, they tend to run out of stock way before the next supply ship arrives.
Many Rotterdam passengers had gathered 'goodies' such as clothing, band aids, toothpaste, pencils, soap - anything and everything, except tooth decaying candy - and delivered it to the village council. They shared a little palm frond hut with the 'post office', where visitors dropped their presents, bought a couple of post cards with some rare Fanning stamps and sent them off in a mail box made from thin sticks.
The locals had brought out tables, loaded with carvings, shell necklaces, baskets and mats - all made right here, nothing imported from China. Prices ranged from 1 to 10 dollars, and business seemed to be brisk. The entrepreneurial owners of two half ton trucks had fitted them out with 'benches' and put a tarp cover over the truck bed, and offered 'tours' to a little village a $10 per ride. Along the road, some locals had set up tables selling fresh coconuts freshly picked from the trees, for the thirsty; water is a rare and precious commodity here.
I walked from the time the second tender touched land to the time the last one left the island. I scrambled along the shimmering lagoon shore to watch a friendly lady harvest seaweed to dry it on palm leafs ashore. I watched schools of little mud fish in the rainwater ponds inland, where local people have their 'vegetable' gardens. I frightened a small tied up herd of piglets into a grunting match. I watched every group of dancers do their thing.I bought a fresh coconut for drinking - $1. I took 'the truck tour' which left my rear end almost demolished. And I bought a few trinkets, just to contribute a least a little bit to the next purchase from a supply boat. And I sent a postcard to myself, as I could not remember anyone else's postal code.
So far, the highlight of the cruise. A bit of unspoilt, down to earth real south sea living, where civilization had not yet an opportunity to create imagined needs and a money based society. I heard cruisers comment, that the Fanning Islanders are happy, because they don't know any 'better'. I am not so sure, who has the 'better' end of life, even taking into consideration lack of sophisticated medical and dental care. Family life is alive and vibrant, music and play take the place of i-pods and video games, environmental impact is minimal (no one can buy much plastic or burn excessive gas). Money is almost superfluous, so are brand name attire for the kids or adults.
Photos of 'the people' on this remote little island will show a few of these gentle people in their tiny island home.
