By Dawn Joyce
After a long-term fascination with Rapa Nui, or Easter Island, I eventually made a pilgrimage there. I have returned with sober impressions of the complexity of existence on a fertile but ravaged speck of land. While ripe avocados and mangoes fall like jacaranda blossoms on the coastal plains, denuded hillsides are deeply eroded.
Rapa Nui lies directly to the east of Brisbane, almost two-thirds of the way to the South American continent. This most remote of all islands is also known to the local people as Te Pito o Te Henua – The Navel of the World. It was named Easter Island by Jacob Roggeveen, a seafarer from Holland, on Easter Sunday 1722.
As an example of a collapsed civilisation, Rapa Nui serves as a cameo for a world on the brink of disaster. For the Polynesians who came by boat and settled there, the apparent wealth of resources allowed for the development of a class of artisans which produced the much famed monumental statues. Moreover, fertility cults led to excessive population and overexploitation of the environment. The delicate balance was destroyed and there was environmental, cultural and social crisis.
What is interesting is that out of the chaos, a system of cooperation emerged. Statues were toppled and competition that depleted the scarce resources was replaced by the yearly ‘Bird man’ competition. This island version of the Olympic Games conferred status on the group whose athlete swam to a nesting colony and secured the first egg of the season. The Rapanuians have a saying: When we work together, that is mana (power).
Unfortunately, depredation by slave traders caused a loss of cultural continuity including knowledge of the rongo rongo script, unique to Rapa Nui and anomalous in an otherwise non literate, oral culture. The few slaves who returned to the island brought back sickness and disease. Between 1862 and 1877, the population was reduced from around 6000 to only 111.
Despite this enormous loss, Rapanuians present as culturally strong and there is a lively will for autonomy from Chile. Rapanuians comprise 70% of the current population of 3000, the remainder being mostly from Chile. There is a parliament building, but it is unfurnished and is used for gatherings and to produce posters promoting autonomy. The tourist potential of the island is undeniable due to its archaeology and sheer remoteness, but much needs to be done before this colonial outpost can be self sufficient.
Presently, there is no system of taxation on the island. Much infrastructure is needed including an additional runway. The four kilometre airstrip was built by NASA as a default landing site for the space shuttle. There is a pressing need for a second runway given the frequency of flights, prevalence of high winds, and the lack of any alternative landing site for a plane low on fuel. Any mishap could have spiralling consequences should it block the only runway.
Fuel is delivered bimonthly. Reducing diesel consumption could be achieved by a program of photovoltaic cell installation and solar hot water systems. There may also be a possibility of wind turbine power generation and small-scale biogas generation. At present there is no recycling system, but A Po, the Rapa Nui Youth Involvement Program, could possibly spearhead such an initiative, with assistance from the schools.
I saw two specimens of the woody shrub Toromiro (Sophora toromiro) both about 1.5 m, one struggling and the other flourishing. They were in adjacent manavai, the stone walled gardens that were built to conserve water and protect food crops. This species, endemic to the island, became extinct in the wild in 1960. There is a multi-site program to preserve the species which includes plantings in Melbourne, however, given the latitude of the island, it may be that Brisbane would be more suited as a partner for reintroduction programs. Revegetation projects using eucalypts have resulted in vigorous growth of these introduced species. These do serve to provide wood and reduce erosion, but do not foster diversity.
Australia has technological resources that could be shared. Should we wish to cooperate with this microcosm of ecological recovery, there is much that we could learn from a culture that has already endured so much. One day, we might even see the Toromiro growing in the wild again on the slopes of the volcanic craters of Rapa Nui.
Our world has worshipped the gods of war, consumerism and doctrinal superiority for too long. We need to topple them and to embrace universalism, cooperation and sustainable practice. Then, like the Rapanuians, our children’s children may have a chance to tell the stories of how their ancestors changed their ways.
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