Apologies are, more or less by custom, the end of things.

Say sorry, and don’t mention it again.

As warm and moving as New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s apology was over the immigration Dawn Raids of the 1970s, it will mostly fade away. At the function, standing under an Auckland Town Hall plaque honouring one of New Zealand’s worst administrators of Samoa (and Tokelau), no one I spoke to, knew who he was.

And yet nine years ago Prime Minister Helen Clark formally apologised for his actions and others.

Apologies are a bit of a sugar rush; something else is needed.

Which brings me to Australian-based academic Katerina Teaiwa who, during the dawn raid apology, tweeted it was great to hear, and added: “We’ll have to work on some specific recognition and support for Banabans from Kiribati & Fiji whose island was sacrificed for NZ, Aus & UK development/agriculture/farming/food security.”

Understanding what happened to Banaba is vital for Pacific futures; not just for correcting historical wrongs that can be dealt with a glitzy Town Hall confession of guilt.

Tragic story of Banaba
That said, the tragic story of Banaba and New Zealand’s role in it – and in Nauru – justify a formal state apology but Teaiwa is right to suggest a rather more ongoing process.

Banaba is vitally important for a number of reasons.

First there is the brutal business of not only robbing a people of their land, but also of enforced exile to another part of the world. Sea level rise, alone, may well make this more the norm, than unusual. Banabans, how they were treated and their response, offer much to an endangered low lying Pacific.

And as Pacific states move toward the business of seafloor mining, Banaba offers lessons in issues as diverse as “beware strangers offering lavish gifts” to “and where do we live after the strangers have taken all the riches….?”

What is also alarming about the Banaba story (and Nauru’s) is that their corrupt, illegal and deceptive plunder was done to make, in particular, Aotearoa and Australia rich. The soils of Banaba and Nauru contain motherlodes of phosphate which is needed to grow grass for agriculture.

Here is the rub: almost no New Zealanders know the story of Banaba or Nauru. And when pressed, some will say, reflecting colonial propaganda, that “we paid a fair price for the phosphate”.

No ‘fair price’
A simple reply: no we did not. Never did.

An apology to Banaba is necessary but only after Aotearoa and others come to terms with what they did to around a thousand people who, for centuries, have lived peacefully on a beautiful island.

Its stark ruins today should remind us that just saying sorry is mostly not enough.

Michael Field is a co-publisher of The Pacific Newsroom. This article is republished with permission.

Great to hear. We’ll have to work on some specific recognition and support for Banabans from Kiribati & Fiji whose island was sacrificed for NZ, Aus & UK development/ agriculture/ farming/ food security https://t.co/DndnKPvIiv

— Katerina Teaiwa (@KTeaiwa) August 1, 2021

I am Banaban. I come from an ancestry of survivors and a once rich land.

However, Banaba died to make other nations live. The Banabans though are proud survivors and we maintain that we are a race that still lives.

Google will tell you my ancestral home of Banaba is part of Kiribati.

• WATCH: Pacific Media Centre’s Bearing Witness documentary Banabans of Rabi – A Story of Survival
• The Bearing Witness Project
• Kiribati Language Week – July 11-17, 2021

Though the current generation has Kiribati blood, our island of Banaba was never birthed into this world as part of Kiribati.

Before the advent of colonialism, we have always held our own identity.

When it comes to the Kiribati Independence Day on July 12, what’s a celebratory moment for I-Kiribati is a painful one for the Banabans.

When Kiribati gained independence from the British Crown, it claimed Banaba as part of its territory, and Britain handed Banaba to Kiribati.

Painful relationship
The relationship between Banaba and Kiribati became the most painful one that many do not know about.

Colonial political history is painful, but we move forward and know that we as Banabans continue to live.

This is my story and I share bits of it in the light of Kiribati Language week or Kiribati Independence week.

The Banabans have always stood firmly in our roots as Banabans.

This is not to take away from Kiribati language week and the celebration of the culture, but this is an opportunity to educate people about the Banabans because it can be easy to dismiss who we are and slot us under the “Kiribati” category.

Unfortunately, some could say: What Banabans? Without a language? Yes, Banabans speak the Kiribati language; an educated person knows that language can be lost, especially when a group becomes dominated by another due to invasions, dominations and relationships.

Language is not the only marker of racial identity.

Environmental injustice
Banaba was once filled with phosphate and it became victim to one of the world’s largest environmental injustices.

In 1900, the discovery of phosphate on Banaba by New Zealander Albert Ellis caused the beginning of systemic mining by the British Phosphate Commission (BPC).

Not many Kiwis know that New Zealand was part of the BPC.

New Zealand’s poor lands became viable agricultural lands from phosphate mined from my ancestral island of Banaba. I guess you could say that the land of Banaba died so New Zealand could live.

The Māori say: Ka mate kāinga tahi, ka ora kāinga rua, or a first home dies, a second home lives.

During World War II, Japan invaded Banaba. It was an era of horror.

Banabans were literally killed mercilessly for breaking curfew rules.

Shipped off as slaves
Banabans were shipped off to islands occupied by Japan to work as slaves.

When the war ended, my people held onto the hope that they could return to normal life in Banaba.

However, the colonial government gathered the Banabans in Tarawa and advised them that Banaba was uninhabitable due to the Japanese bombing.

The Banabans were promised a new land with beautiful homes, food in plenty and beautiful, tropical weather.

Bought out of their own phosphate royalties, Rabi island in Fiji became their new home.

Arriving on 15 December 1945, they saw no homes, no food, no tropical weather. They were given tents in a cow paddock during hurricane season.

In 2018, I had the opportunity to visit Rabi when I was in Fiji for the Pacific Media Centre’s Bearing Witness Climate Change Project. An assignment to create a documentary piece instantly made me think of Rabi, the island my mother comes from.

From NZ to Rabi
After a few phone calls to my mother in New Zealand, we started putting things into place to make it happen. By the grace of God, my mum and stepdad managed to fly over to Fiji to embark on this journey with me.

The journey from New Zealand to Rabi went like this: plane, car, bus, ferry, car, bus, ferry.

Upon arrival in Rabi, my uncle Aretana welcomed us home.

Rabi life is simply relaxing.

This trip was monumental for me. It affirmed who I was as a Banaban.

Despite the atrocities my people faced, they still hold onto their faith, they still sing and dance and they still smile.

However, I am still angry.

Destroying Banaba
My people’s blood and bones are on the land I live on now.

New Zealand, Australia and the UK must be held to account for the part they played in destroying Banaba and rendering the Banaban race like it never existed.

The BPC governments today need to acknowledge what they did and be part of the solution in rebuilding Banaba and offering aid to the Banabans on Banaba and Rabi.

Ruled by Kiribati and Fiji we are a small community that cannot do it alone.

The Fiji-Banabans and the NZ-Banaban diaspora would love to return to Banaba, but we’re a long way from this reality. I hope it happens one day. Even a visit.

I am Banaban. I am the product of a resilient community. I come from an ancestry of survivors.

Banabans of Rabi – A Story of Survival, a short documentary by Hele Ikimotu and Blessen Tom while on assignment during their PMC 2018 Bearing Witness climate change project in Fiji.

Hele Christopher-Ikimotu is a youth worker for a Pasifika NGO, Affirming Works. He has a Bachelor of Communication Studies (Journalism) and a Postgraduate Diploma in Communication Studies. He travelled to Rabi in 2018 with the support of the AUT Pacific Media Centre’s Bearing Witness Project. This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

By Hele Ikimotu on Rabi Island, Fiji

Our trip to Rabi was a long journey, first starting with a bus ride from Suva, driving straight onto a ferry in Natovi and arriving in Nabouwalu. That trip alone was about seven to eight hours.

From there, my uncle, Aretana Kabure, picked us up and let us borrow the car to head into Savusavu. After exploring the area for a bit, we then caught another bus which drove onto Princess Moana in Natuvu – the final stop before Rabi.

Arriving on Rabi for the first time was a monumental moment for me personally as I am from Rabi Island. My parents, Janet and Jone, managed to make it and came with us. My mother’s last time in Rabi Island was in 1995.

The island’s inhabitants are the Banabans, who were forcibly relocated to Rabi in 1945 due to the destruction of their island from phosphate mining. The people kept the four villages of Banaba and brought them with them to Rabi – Buakonikai, Tabwewa, Tabiang and Uma.

When we arrived in the evening, we were picked up by my uncle, my mum’s brother, whom she hadn’t seen since her last time in Rabi. Immediately upon arrival, his family fed us – we went to sleep with happy stomachs.

As the morning sun greeted us and after a dip in the sea metres away from the house we were staying in, we began our journey in exploring Rabi.

There are three main modes of transport in Rabi: walking, horse riding and driving a car. Walking is the main – having your own car is a rarity on the island. You can call a “taxi” which comes in the form of a pickup truck. As you pass people walking, they wave and smile.

Fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner
We visited many of my relatives and they all welcomed us with food. We had fish for breakfast, fish for lunch and fish for dinner. It is a staple dish in Rabi.

In between the visits, we interviewed people about the effects of sea level rise on the island and also heard personal testimonies about the move from Banaba to Rabi. You will hear and see this soon.

The island of Rabi is beautiful. The more we explored the island, the more we fell in love with it. In one part of the island, you will find kids fishing. In another, men are clearing the weeds outside their church, a young girl in a hammock is rocking a baby to sleep and people are swimming in the clear waters.

Rabi is a welcoming island. The trip may be long but it is worth it. If one plans to go, it is best they know someone and organise accommodation beforehand as there are no hotels. The island isn’t a tourist destination, which makes it that more special. It is simply a homely environment.

Hele Ikimotu and Blessen Tom are in Fiji as part of the Pacific Media Centre’s Bearing Witness 2018 climate change project. They are collaborating with the University of the South Pacific.

• More Bearing Witness stories

Pacific Media Centre’s Bearing Witness climate project postgraduate student team Hele Ikimotu and Blessen Tom have just spent five days on the northern Fiji volcanic island of Rabi.

As Ikimotu, himself a Rabi Islander, reports: “The island’s inhabitants are the Banabans, who were forcibly relocated to Rabi in 1945 due to the destruction of their island from phosphate mining. The people kept the four villages of Banaba and brought them with them to Rabi – Buakonikai, Tabwewa, Tabiang and Uma.”

Here are some of the images from Ikimotu and Tom’s visit to the island.

• Life on Fiji’s Rabi Island
• Rabi Island video

Life on Rabi

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