tirsdag den 24. februar 2026

Sir Bernard Braines tale i Parlamentet juli 1979

Sir Bernard Braine
(Essex, South-East)

I am grateful for the opportunity to raise a serious matter that has caused me and many other hon. Members from all parties deep concern over a long period, namely, the treatment accorded the Banaban community in the Pacific and the need to make amends.

On 12 June this House gave a Third Reading to the Kiribati Bill and by so doing ruled that the Banabans were to be split between two sovereign jurisdictions, Fiji and the new Kiribati republic, and that their original homeland was to go to Kiribati against their will.

Many of us on both sides of the House regarded the decision not to separate Banaba from the Gilbert Islands colony—now Kiribati—as wrong, indeed as a final betrayal by the imperial power of its trust for a small, defenceless community. Many people who heard and read our debate wrote to me afterwards saying that our arguments were unanswerable—and so they were. None the less, the Government threw their weight against us, and a majority in Parliament decided to ignore the Banaban plea for separation from Kiribati and agreed that on 12 July sovereignty should pass finally and irrevocably to the Kiribati republic.

Thus the political future of Ocean Island, or Banaba, is now solely a matter for the Kiribati Government and people. It remains for this House simply and sincerely to wish them well and to hope that the discussions that the new Government have offered to hold with Banaban representatives, under the chairmanship of that greatly respected statesman of the Pacific, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, Prime Minister of Fiji, will lead to a solution that the Banabans can be persuaded to accept.

Earlier this month the Pacific Council of Churches met and deliberated on the dispute between Kiribati and the Banabans. The Government have been singularly deaf to what has been said on the subject in the Pacific, and my hon. Friend the Minister might like to know that the council recommended, as its secretary, Mrs. Lorine Tevi stated,
"that Ocean Island remain a British colony until a solution was reached that was acceptable to both parties."
Alas, that is no longer possible. We have hauled down the flag and have passed sceptre to others. We no longer have any say in the political shape of things to come in that part of the Pacific. In one respect, however, we retain a responsibility for the welfare of the Banaban people that the Government cannot shuffle off.

The Government still have a duty to discharge towards the people whom their predecessors have greviously wronged.

We still have to pay the ex gratis capital sum by way of compensation arising out of the High Court proceedings that the Banabans were forced to take against the British Government. We are under an obligation to provide the aid and technical assistance necessary to safeguard the economic future of the Banabans now split by our actions between two island homes.

My hon. Friend may be inclined to argue that our financial obligations towards the Banabans must be viewed in the context of our general aid programme. He may add that whatever help we give must also be affected by the stringent economy measures at present in force. In case there is any suggestion that the Banaban case is not unique, I think it is right that the House should know and that our official record should reflect the circumstances that give rise to the special and morally compelling obligation of this country towards the Banabans. That is the purpose of my raising the matter today.

In May 1900 the representative of a British company, a Mr. Albert Ellis, perpetrated upon the Banabans a sordid confidence trick. He fooled them into signing away the right to exploit their phosphate wealth for 999 years in exchange for £50 per annum, payable either in cash or in company goods, at the company's option. It may be said that much legalised robbery of this nature took place at that time and that later the Colonial Office did something to mitigate its worst aspects. It could hardly have done less.

Suffice it to record of this distasteful episode in our mercantile and colonial past that the founder of one of our largest public companies, Unilever, was a director and major shareholder of the company that so pitilessly exploited the Banabans. Pearl Binder whom most of us in this House know by another distinguished name, tells us in her moving book "Treasure Islands":
"In 1920 when Lord Leverhulme's £100 million company was in serious financial difficulties the sale of his major holdings in the Pacific Phosphate Company's shares to the BPC, and the lavish compensation to the directors, helped to save Leverhulme from bankruptcy.
The price received was very many times the original investment and was only agreed after protracted and bitter negotiations during and after the Versailles conference. Criticism and acrimonious complaint about the methods of the company had been continuous throughout its life."
No doubt my hon. Friend will tell me that he cannot be responsible for the unethical behaviour of three-quarters of a century ago. I do not disagree. But I believe it only right to record that one of our most prestigious public companies may owe its very existence to the rape of Banaba. I must also record with regret that the company in question chose to turn down an appeal for financial assistance which I made to it on behalf of the Banabans.

However, as the right hon. Member for Orkney and Shetland (Mr. Grimond) pointed out on the Second Reading of the Kiribati Bill, the exploitation of the Banabans is remarkable for the fact that since 1920 the exploiters have not been great private corporations but the three Governments of the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand, acting in concert for the benefit of their own national interests. Whatever earlier wrongs were committed by private enterprise, these pale into insignificance against those perpetrated by a public corporation and by Government officials who knew what they were doing.

I stress at this point that, although the three nations represented by the British Phosphate Commissioners benefited from the exploitation of Banaban phosphates, Britain and Britain alone was the responsible, sovereign administering Power. I should like my hon. Friend to take special note of this fact for reasons which I shall give later.

What is it that puts the treatment of the Banaban people in a class of iniquity of its very own? I shall describe briefly, more briefly than I would wish, just two episodes.

By the time the British Phosphate Commission came into being in 1920, about 22½ per cent. of the phosphate-bearing land on Ocean Island, or Banaba, had been leased for excavation. The Banabans had already shown considerable reluctance to part with any more, but within three years the commissioners were demanding nearly 10 per cent. of the available phosphate land for future mining. The Banabans refused. Where, they asked, would their children live? If, however, more land was leased, they would require not £150 per acre as suggested, but £5,000 per acre. As the proceeds of mining amounted to some £40,000 per acre, the Western Pacific high commissioner commented at the time that the Banaban demand did not appear to him to be unreasonable—not that right or reason have any place in this story.

Britain's residential commissioner in Ocean Island, the effective governor at the time, pressed the commissioners' requirements unscrupulously during 1927 and 1928. He offered £150 per acre for the Banabans' land, an amount equivalent to a penny farthing in old pence per ton of phosphate, together with a royalty of 10½d. per ton. The Banabans made it plain that they did not wish to sell, but asked the resident commissioner why 10½d. was the limit that the British Phosphate Commission could pay. He told them that competition in Australia and elsewhere made it necessary for the British Phosphate Commissioners to sell at the lowest price possible. Increased royalties would make them uncompetitive, and that would be the end of the commission and would therefore mean a sentence of death on the Banabans, who were by then dependent on the industry.

It was, of course, a complete lie. At the time the Banabans were being told that a total payment of anything more than 11¾d. per ton would render the British Phosphate Commissioners uncompetitive, Banaban phosphates were being sold to Australia at 12s. 6d. per ton cheaper than the nearest equivalent source. In moral terms, this amounted to fraud perpetrated with the assistance of blackmail. "If you do not sell on my terms," the British resident commissioner had told the Banabans," your land will be seized for the Empire at any old price "—to use his elegant words—" and your homes destroyed". Although the Banabans still refused, their land was compulsorily purchased in 1928 at £150 per acre and with a royalty per ton to be prescribed by the resident commissioner himself.

I now turn to the second episode which makes our moral obligation towards this tiny community uniquely imperative. The Second World War and Britain's abandonment of their homeland to the Japanese saw most Banabans exiled for forced labour; the rest were brutally murdered.

After the war, the surviving Banabans were shipped by the British to Rabi, an island in the Fiji group, 1,400 miles to the south—bought, incidentally, with their own money. The colonial Government regarded the opportunity of removing the Banabans from Ocean Island as unique, and urged the British Phosphate Commissioners that shipping difficulties should not be permitted to frustrate a project which they had been striving to achieve for decades.

A return to Ocean Island, the Banabans were told, was impossible; everything there was destroyed; they would have to live there in tents. They were offered a free choice: they could go to Rabi or fend for themselves in the Gilbert Islands, as they had done during the Japanese occupation. Given this invidious choice, the Banabans went to Rabi. There they were dumped in the hurricane season to fend for themselves with a few months' provisions and some tents. In short, no more permanent accommodation existed on Rabi than they would have found on Ocean Island.

Yet all this, too, was based on a lie. At the very moment that the Banabans were being told this, unbeknown to them the British Phosphate Commissioners, with the active co-operation of the colonial authority, were busy recruiting labour elsewhere to resume phosphate mining on Ocean Island and were preparing permanent accommodation and social services for the newcomers which would have been most welcome for at least part of the indigenous Banaban community.

The coup de grace was administered in 1947, when the unfortunate Banabans were persuaded both to remain on Rabi and to sign away on fixed and immutable terms 58 per cent. of the total phosphate land which had existed at the outset and virtually all that remained.

To describe this infamous treatment of a defenceless people, I can do no better that quote briefly from the historic judgment of the Vice-Chancellor, Sir Robert Megarry, at the end of November 1976. Ministers of both Governments should hang their heads in shame at what he said:
"The other failure of government to which I shall refer was the gravest in its consequences to the Banabans. That was the absence of any advice to the Banabans, or encouragement to get advice, when they were embarking on the 1947 negotiations. The Banabans had suffered grievous hardships under the Japanese during the war: they had been uprooted from their homes on Ocean Island and had no immediate prospects of returning even to see what state that island was in; they had been less than a year and a half on Rabi, an unknown island in a different colony with a markedly different climate; they had had all the problems of living in temporary or makeshift accommodation, like so many others after the war; and many of them had been ill. In those circumstances, they were about to embark upon negotiations for by far the largest disposition of phosphate land that they had ever made, one which would take nearly all the workable phosphate left on Ocean Island, and consume well over two-fifths of the entire island."
The learned judge concluded from this:
"All these facts must have been known, and well known, to the High Commissioner and to Major Holland, whom the High Commissioner had appointed to look after the Banabans. In those circumstances, I do not see how the omission to encourage the Banabans to get proper advice and assistance and to make haste slowly, and the prohibiting of Major Holland from helping the Banabans can possibly be called good government or the proper discharge of the duties of trusteeship in the higher sense."
The Vice-Chancellor was referring here to an instruction in writing from the high commissioner to the Banaban adviser, Major Holland, not to advise the Banabans, who were paying his salary. It is one of the worst examples that I can recall of a breach of duty by the administrators of a subject people. The Banabans were again pushed into signing what they did not fully comprehend. As a consequence, they were totally unaware of this expropriation of their phosphate resources until they hired professional advisers in Australia in 1965, some 18 years later.

As any payments to the Banabans will be in present-day currency, I am sure that my hon. Friend will agree that it is only fair to take inflation into account. The £62 million benefit obtained by Britain has a current purchasing power of £103 million. The £17 million benefit obtained by Australia and New Zealand over the years has a current purchasing power of £69 million. Thus we arrive at a total, in today's terms, of £172 million which was obtained from the Banabans by a shameful combination of bullying, coercion and chicanery. My hon. Friend need not look at me: the figures are derived in part from answers received from Ministers in this House.

These are the very special circumstances which make our obligations towards the Banabans, whether within Fiji or Kiribati, unique and compelling.

How do the present Government propose to compensate the Banabans? We are in the process of trying to work this out. With all the assistance that our partners in this sorry business—Australia and New Zealand—can be persuaded to give, how much will the Banabans receive now that the phosphate is exhausted and their original homeland almost totally destroyed? I shall give the figures and, to be more than fair, I shall give the sterling equivalent of the Australian offers or awards at the exchange rate applicable at the time that they were made: first, in exchange for calling off all legal action against the Crown, £6·25 million; secondly, a sum of interest on this sum which has so far been agreed at £937,500: thirdly, in settlement of the Banabans' case against the commissioners, £780,000: fourthly, as a grant of development aid from the ODA, £1 million. The grand total is less than £9 million. Seen in the context of the £172 million which Banaban phosphates contributed for I he benefit of others, such a sum is pathetically inadequate. It must be increased substantially if we are to emerge from this shameful episode in our history with any credit at all.

I must tell the House that as chairman of the justice for the Banabans campaign and at the invitation of the Banaban leaders, I have taken part in discussions with the Minister of State, Foreign and Commonwealh Office, my hon. Friend the Member for Blackpool, South (Mr. Blaker). Those discussions have been aimed at negotiating the transfer of all the sums that I have listed, with the exception of the British Phosphate Commissioners' payment of £780,000 which has been made already. I am aware that my hon. Friend will shortly be conferring with his opposite numbers in the Australian and New Zealand Governments about the transfer of moneys already offered. The Banabans, with the help of their able and experienced economic adviser, Philip Shrapnel and Company, of Sydney, have proposed the investment of the moneys in a Banaban fund to be audited, we hope, by the Auditor-General of Fiji. That is going smoothly. I am confident that my hon. Friend is fully seized of these matters and will do his best to move things along.

I must, however, draw the attention of the House to an aspect of the matter that causes me and my fellow trustees grave disquiet. I am still speaking within the context of the totally inadequate sums which have been offered. I am sorry to tell the House that the payment to the Banabans of a sum of interest amounting to about £300,000 is still being disputed. I have already made my personal views of this wholly unexpected piece of meanness plain to my hon. Friend.

The House should be aware of the details as the sum in question arises out of a statement—I would say a pledge—made to this House by the former Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, the right hon. Member for Plymouth, Devonport (Dr. Owen). On 27 May 1977, the right hon. Gentleman told the House that the then Government were offering the Banabans 10 million Australian dollars, that is, £6·25 million, on certain conditions, the principal one being that they would not appeal their case against the Crown. It was a matter of "You call off your appeal against the Crown and we will offer an ex-gratis payment of 10 million Australian dollars or £6·25 million". In answer to a supplementary question by my right hon. Friend the then Member for Knutsford, Mr. John Davies, the Foreign Secretary said:
"We estimate that the 10 million Australian dollars, invested now, would accumulate to 12 million dollars by the end of 1979 when phosphates run out. This sum would give the benefits of unearned income of about 350 dollars per capita."—[Official Report, 27 May 1977; Vol. 932, c. 1761.]
On 30 November, Lord Goronwy-Roberts, the Minister of State, who was handling the matter in the other place, wrote to the Banabans to say that the notional interest on the 10 million Australian dollars amounted by then to 1·5 million Australian dollars. The noble Lord felt that the Australian and New Zealand Governments would agree to this being paid if he received an early indication that the offer as a whole would be accepted by the Banabans.

The House will recall that at that time the Banabans had just been told that they would be forced against their will into the new Kiribati State. They were not prepared to accept this, as was their right. They were determined to fight the political battle to the very end. They had no wish to haggle over money while the constitutional question closest to their hearts remained at issue.

I can understand the then Government's wish to persuade the Banaban leaders to accept the money. Had they done so, I have no doubt that it would have been widely suggested that money was more important to the Banabans than self-determination. Innuendoes of that kind, as many of my hon. Friends know, have been made more than once. Indeed, in order to attract the Banabans into a discussion on financial matters, Lord Goronwy-Roberts added to the lure of interest payments the promise of development aid amounting to £1 million and a resources survey of Banaba. That was very attractive.

But, as the carrot did not work, the stick was then used. If the Banabans refused to talk about the money while the political battle raged, interest accruing on the capital sum would not be paid to them after 31 December 1978. That is almost without precedent in negotiations of this kind. I have told my hon. Friend that I could see no justification whatever for punishing the Banabans for not meeting the Government's wishes. I have made plain that if the interest accumulating on this capital sum continued to the end of phosphate mining, as the former Secretary of State indicated in the House it should, they ought to receive not only the 1·5 million Australian dollars which had accumulated by 30 November but every single cent that accrues from that date to the moment the capital sum itself is made over.

I am glad to see an increasing number of right hon. and hon. Members in the House as I am confident that anything less will be regarded by them as a mean and vindictive act and would be totally unacceptable either to them or to the wider public outside. Our national reputation has been besmirched enough already by years of mistreatment of these people without its being besmirched further by this final dishonourable act.

I have confidence that my hon. Friend has grasped this point. He has, after all, come to office only recently. He can be acquitted of any responsibility for the misdeeds perpetrated earlier. I trust that he will put forcefully to the Australian and New Zealand Governments what I have said. I hope that he will find, as I have suggested to him, that his information that our partners in the British Phosphate Commissioners are adamant in withholding interest after 31 December is not accurate.

Up till now the British Government have suggested to me that the reason for this lies in the attitude of the Australian and New Zealand Governments. I can say with some authority—I have received information from down under—that in the case at least of New Zealand that is utterly untrue. As I shall be visiting New Zealand next week, I shall raise the matter with Ministers there.

So the British Government have no right to shelter behind allegations that the Australian and New Zealand Governments have been dragging their feet. However, wherever the truth lies, it is neither morally right nor economically sound to apply any terminal date for the payment of interest before the final handing over of the capital sum. If Australia and New Zealand refuse to accept that, I know that the House will expect the Government to make up any shortfall, and we should like some undertaking from the Minister about that.

Most of the paltry £9 million which is on offer arises out of an action brought on the advice of one of our most distinguished lawyers, Lord Elwyn-Jones, against the Attorney-General of the United Kingdom Government. The Australian and New Zealand Governments are to be commended for their willingness to contribute the larger part of an ex gratia payment in respect of a bill which strictly speaking is payable by the United Kingdom Government alone.

Indeed, when I visited the Pacific in 1965 and talked to Ministers and officials of the Australian and New Zealand Governments at that time, I was made fully aware that they recognised the great benefits which their farmers had received over many years from Banaban phosphates. They told me then, and others have told me since, that, irrespective of the case against the British Phosphate Commission, they were prepared to contribute generously to the Banabans in direct bilateral development aid. I trust that this is still the position.

My final words are these—[Interruption.] The House has been very patient and I am grateful for the moral support that it is giving me on this sad issue. It seems to be hoped in official circles that our debt to the Banaban people can be discharged by the payment of between £2 million and £3 million, most of which comes not from the taxpayer but from the reserve fund of the British Phosphate Commissioners, who have been exploiting Banaban and other Pacific island phosphates for nearly 60 years.

The officials of the Treasury and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office may consider this good housekeeping—perhaps it is, when we consider how successive Governments have squandered our own national substance—but in this context they must be told that it would be nothing less than a moral outrage that our contribution towards the future welfare of the Banaban people in their two island homes should rest there. I am making a plea for Her Majesty's Government in this final act of reparation—for that is what it should be—to err on the side of generosity. There is no other way in which to make amends.

6 Rabi-banabaneres livshistorier.

Her har jeg uredigeret indsat 5 Rabi-banabaneres livshistorier - hentet fra New Zealand Geographic.


Trods deres mangel på faciliteter er banabanerne ikke et deprimeret folk. De er meget motiverede til at hjælpe sig selv (hvis bare de kunne få lidt mere hjælp til at gøre det) og ressourcefulde (det er de nødt til at være). Man kan sige, at de er blevet mere banabaner, end de nogensinde havde behøvet at være før den store migration i 1945 og kampene i 1970'erne. Intet skærper en identitetsfølelse mere end truslen om dens tab. Og der er intet som en skærpet identitetsfølelse til at holde en følelse af historie i live.

Banaban-historier

80_Banabans_10

Nei Makin er en bemærkelsesværdig kvinde fra ethvert perspektiv. Hun blev født i 1930 på Banaba og længtes altid efter at gå i skole for at studere engelsk og matematik, men under distriktskommissær Arthur Grimbles koloniale administration var dette privilegium kun forbeholdt drenge. Piger skulle lære huslige færdigheder og læse Bibelen. Nei Makin husker hr. Hard, en newzealandsk rektor på Banaba, og hun blev inspireret af den verden, han repræsenterede. Den dag i dag synger hun en diskret version af en maorisang, han underviste i der i 1930'erne.

Gennem årene med minedrift, den ødelæggende japanske militære besættelse under 2. verdenskrig, hvor hendes far blev myrdet – familien og de andre banabanere blev tvunget til at se hans halshugning med et samuraisværd – ønskede Nei Makin stadig at forfølge "den rigtige form for skolegang".

I 1946, nu på Rabi, så hun sin chance og overtalte nogle veninder til at genere skoleinspektøren – en hr. Kaake – for at lade pigerne sidde i teltet, der fungerede som klasseværelse. Han nægtede at lade dem blive; de ​​nægtede at gå. Til sidst, efter forskellige sabotagespil, gav hr. Kaake efter for at redde drengene fra yderligere distraktion, og lod pigerne blive.

Teltets lærredside fungerede som tavle. Børnene skrev på toiletpapir, der var blevet efterladt af newzealandske soldater, der havde været stationeret på Rabi under krigen, og brugte brændte stykker kokosnøddeskaller som blyanter. De lavede sæder af stablede kokosnøddeskallehalvdele, så de ikke behøvede at sidde i mudderet. Regn, der var sparsom på Banaba, var alt for rigeligt på Rabi, og de fugtige forhold bidrog til, at 45 ældre døde af influenza inden for de første tre måneder der. I en befolkning på 1003 må dette have ramt som et dødsstød.

Nei Makin og hendes mand, Na Karoro, blev med tiden selv skolelærere og hjalp sammen med andre med at prioritere uddannelse på Rabi. Nei Makin husker en anden newzealandsk rektor, hr. Jobson, der plejede at arrangere stipendier og praktikpladser for unge Rabi-elever, så de kunne fortsætte deres skolegang og uddannelse andre steder i Fiji. Hun er ked af, at det netværk, han skabte, er holdt op med at fungere, og hun og hendes kolleger finder det frustrerende, at så mange dygtige unges forhåbninger skal begrænses af manglen på stipendier, der er tilgængelige for dem i det fijianske kvotesystem, hvor banabanerne kun udgør den femtestørste etniske minoritet.

Selvom Nei Makin og Na Karoro nu er pensioneret fra undervisning, er de aktive ledere af Banaban Dancing Group, som de tog med til den fireårige Pacific Arts Festival for første gang i Suva i 1972 og igen i Rotorua i 1976. Senest optrådte gruppen ved åbningsceremonien for South Pacific Games, der blev afholdt i Suva i 2003, og som en del af aktiviteterne i anledning af 60-årsdagen for flytningen, der blev markeret på Rabi den 15. december 2005. Til deres fortsatte sorg og forvirring har Banaban-dansere, selvom de er kendt for deres funklende præstationer, dog ikke været inkluderet i den fijianske kontingent ved Pacific Arts Festival siden 1992.

En anmodning om hjælp til anskaffelsen af ​​en bus i starten af ​​2005 førte til en generøs respons fra Stagecoach New Zealand, som stillede to køretøjer til rådighed for prisen for én og efterfølgende sendte sin chefmekaniker til Rabi i fjorten dage for at uddanne lokale mekanikere. Reef Shipping transporterede busserne til Fiji uden beregning, og energiske tiltag fra lokalsamfundet fra Waiheke Island, det sydlige Wairarapa og Wellingtons polske befolkning betød, at busserne blev sendt afsted læsset med varer. Busserne transporterer børn i skole - Rabi-eleverne topper de nationale eksamener i den nordlige region af Fiji - og supplerer andre mere opfindsomme transportformer.
John Casey

80_Banabans_15

I deres talisman-dans, kendt som Te Karanga, bærer kunstnerne lange stave, hvortil der er fastgjort dyrebare fregatfuglefjer. Dansen er traditionelt en ceremoniel åbningsdans, der kun udføres ved særligt betydningsfulde lejligheder, og er altid et fængslende syn.

Dansernes kostumer er slående, og der lægges stor omhu i deres forberedelse. Pandanus, kokosnød, andre fibre, frø, skaller og fjer – alt sammen skal indsamles og forarbejdes med stor omhu. Kvindernes iturevne nederdele farves sorte, røges over en duftende brændeild og derefter olieres. Bagsiden af ​​en danser med langt sort hår, der falder ned over et langt sort, fiberholdigt nederdel, er et smukt syn. Strålende hvide skaller står i kontrast til glansen af ​​bleget pandanus – strålende, glitrende og livsbekræftende.

Nei Tenamauea Kabanti

Jeg er Tenamauea Kabanti. Jeg blev født i 1924 på Banaba. Min fars navn var Kabanti, min mors navn var Tiouakarawa. De havde to døtre – mig selv og min yngre søster, Te Biriro.

Vi boede i landsbyen Tabwewa. Min far arbejdede på både som besætningsmedlem og rejste til Nauru og tilbage. I 1934 begyndte jeg at gå på missionsskolen i Tabwewa; den blev drevet af London Missionary Society.

Grimble var kommissær der på Banaba. Han tillod ikke piger at gå på den offentlige skole – den var kun for drengene. Hr. Hard var den første rektor på den offentlige skole i Tabwewa. Hans assisterende lærer der var Naikara Kaake (senere, på Rabi, blev han rektor). Naikara kom til missionsskolen for at undervise på deltid – engelsk og alfabetet og den slags – men så sagde Grimble, at han ikke måtte gøre det mere. Pigerne skulle bare lære ting, de skulle lave derhjemme.

Jeg boede i Tabwewa, men jeg kunne godt lide at svømme ved Uma-stranden. Der var en damptogvogn, der kom med rationerne til firmaet [BPC]. Den første vogn kom klokken 6 om morgenen med is til dagens mad og drikke – og man kunne få et lift tilbage til Uma-stranden med den vogn.

Teitinikaeke Tekenimatang bor i Suva med sin familie, hvor hun er universitetsstuderende. Hun er begejstret for at være en del af Banaban-dansegruppen, der er inviteret til at optræde på Rabi ved den årlige mindedag den 15. december, hvor ankomsten til øen i 1945 fejres.
Teitinikaeke Tekenimatang bor i Suva med sin familie, hvor hun er universitetsstuderende. Hun er begejstret for at være en del af Banaban-dansegruppen, der er inviteret til at optræde på Rabi ved den årlige mindedag den 15. december, hvor ankomsten til øen i 1945 fejres.
John Casey

80_Banabans_18

Til mad kunne jeg bedst lide fisk ... vi havde mange fisk ... og ris, og "Pick Me Up" [et mærke af Worcestershire sauce]. Og vi havde mandler - åh, de voksede på Banaba, masser af mandler. Man kunne spise kødet omkring nødden, det var meget tykt og saftigt, ikke som det tynde kød fra dem, der vokser i Fiji nu, hvor man smider skindet og kødet væk og kun spiser nødden. Og vi havde poter og græskar og melon og ananas og nogle cashewnødder.

Der var nogle tegn og rygter om krig. Vi hørte om et tysk angreb på Nauru, men så glemte vi alt om det. Nogle australiere kom til Banaba.

Til vores eksamen kom en missionærlærer fra Nauru, hr. Wills, for at hjælpe. Tarawa var for langt væk til, at nogen kunne komme derfra, så han kom fra Nauru. Fru Wills lærte os syning, broderi og vævning, men jeg kunne bedst lide engelsk. Jeg kom bedst til eksamen, og hr. Wills ville tage mig med i skole i Nauru på et stipendium. Men en anden mand, en tolk, sagde, at jeg ikke kunne tage med, fordi jeg var forlovet, så en anden pige – hans datter – blev sendt i mit sted. Jeg var meget misundelig på hende, fordi jeg meget gerne ville lære engelsk. Hun hed Terengaiti. Efter et stykke tid gik hendes mor hen og hentede hende. Da pigen så mig, talte hun engelsk til mig, og jeg hadede hende for det, så jeg bandede ad hende.

I 1940 blev jeg gift med Tokamaen. Jeg var 16, det var den lovlige alder for at gifte sig. Ifølge vores skik byttede brudeparret til modsatte familier tre eller fire dage før brylluppet. Tokamaen kom til min familie for at blive klædt på og forberedt, og de havde alt klar til at gøre ham smuk. Men da jeg gik over til hans familie, blev jeg skuffet over, at de ikke havde et slør forberedt til mig, kun den lange hvide kjole, jeg skulle have på, men ikke et slør.

Vi tog først til magistraten for at vie brylluppet, derefter gik vi til præsten for at få hans velsignelse. Det var pastor Rusa, han var præst i BPC. Så tog vi til maneabaen [mødestedet] for at deltage i festen og underholdningen med sang og dans – og madkastning. Vi kaster altid mad efter hinanden for at afslutte et bryllup – det er en skik. Derefter tager parret hen for at bo i brudens hus hos hendes forældre.

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Japanerne ankom til Banaba i 1942, og de sendte mange af os til Nauru, hvor der ville være mere mad. Vi rejste med skibet Ikutamoru . Vi tog afsted om eftermiddagen og sejlede gennem natten. Ved solopgang kunne vi se, at vi var ankommet til Nauru. Klokken 14 var vi landet; der var 500 mennesker. Vi blev transporteret med lastbil til Inbak. Vi skulle have boet der i huse, men samme dag bad japanerne os om at skynde os til hulerne og søge ly der, fordi bombningen fra fly ville begynde. Der var pigtråd hele vejen rundt om øens kyst.

Mine forældre kom, og det samme var min mand. Jeg var allerede gravid. Vi tog derhen den første nat og blev i hulen, og det var dér, veerne begyndte, og jeg begyndte at føde. Jeg var 19, det var mit første barn. Barnet blev født i hulen, og dagen efter ankom de amerikanske bombefly.

Så kom japanerne igen til os og sagde: "Skynd jer til hulerne på den anden side – der kommer flere bomber", så min mand bar vores baby, og han gik i forvejen. Jeg kunne ikke gå, fordi jeg lige havde født, så jeg kravlede derhen på mine hænder og knæ. Jeg var meget senere end de andre, da jeg ankom – det var sidst på dagen, og det var allerede mørkt – og en japansk mand råbte: "Hvem går derhen?", og jeg svarede: "En kvinde."

Vi blev fire dage i den hule. Min mælk ville ikke komme, så jeg kunne give babyen mad, men en anden kvinde, Kaititake, ammede sin egen baby, Taonibeia, så hun ammede også min baby. Vi kaldte vores baby Rita. Hun levede et godt liv og døde lige sidste år, 2004, på Rabi. Taonibeia døde også det år.

Vi opholdt os i mere end tre år på Nauru. Vi plejede at se de amerikanske bombefly. De fløj i V-formation. Vi havde madrationer, men de blev hurtigt brugt op. Der var aldrig nok mad. Så vi tog ud at fiske og samle frugt, og vi plantede græskar og en krybende grøn plante – men vi måtte gøre det i hemmelighed, fordi japanerne ville straffe os, hvis de vidste om det. Der var nogle hemmelige henrettelser foretaget af japanerne på Nauru, men slet ikke så mange som på Banaba, hvilket vi hørte om senere.

I 1945 sluttede krigen med den japanske overgivelse. De amerikanske skibe ankom, og tre dage senere ankom en lille regeringsbåd, Kiakia , for at hente de statsansatte; så de tog min mand og mig til Kosrae, hvor de også hentede disse ansatte, og derefter tog de os alle til Tarawa. Min mand arbejdede i finansadministrationen der.

Det var først i 1953, at jeg besøgte Rabi første gang med mine forældre, og jeg kom tilbage dertil med min mand i 1957, og vi blev. På det tidspunkt havde vi to børn mere, en pige og en dreng, og så havde vi en pige og to drenge mere på Rabi – så seks børn i alt ... Jeg har 18 børnebørn og 16 oldebørn.

Min mand var leder af Banaban-butik, og han var i Rabi Councils administration. Han redigerede Banaban News i nogle år. Han var en god tolk, så han tog til London for at føre retssagen mod den britiske krone og den britiske fosfatkommission i 1970'erne. Det var på det tidspunkt, at dette billede blev taget ... det er Tokamaen og Rotan foran elefantburet i London Zoo! Orkanen kaldet cyklonen Ami, som vi havde her i Rabi i 2003, har ødelagt næsten alle vores vægbilleder, men dette overlevede.

I 1997 rejste jeg på hjemrejsen til Banaba. Jeg hadede katamaranen, det var så let en båd til havsejlads, og den gjorde mig meget søsyg. Jeg var en af ​​de fire gamle damer, der tog med, men jeg var ikke med i filmen, der blev lavet om den tur.

Nu om dage sidder jeg i mit hus i Tabwewa, og efter min morgenmad begynder jeg at væve. Jeg sidder og væver hele dagen. Jeg stopper, når det bliver for mørkt til, at jeg kan se, hvad jeg laver. Jeg har lært mange yngre kvinder, hvordan man væver. Mine øjne er gode, jeg bruger ikke briller – de gør alting sløret. Jeg kan ikke gå nu – jeg har problemer med mine knæ og hofter – men nogen hjælper mig med at kravle, når jeg skal udenfor. Nogle gange får jeg et lift med vores bus til kirke om søndagen, men den går ret ofte i stykker.

Mine dage i Motawa

Mit navn er Banea. Jeg blev født i Vaitupu, som ligger i Tuvalu, i 1942. Jeg flyttede med min familie og andre i en gruppe fra Tuvalu til Kioa Island her i Fiji.

Jeg gik på Vatuvonu School på Vanua Levu indtil jeg var 10 år gammel. Jeg kom til Rabi Island og giftede mig med min Banaban-kone i 1970 eller deromkring. Hun var fra landsbyen Buakonikai, så vi boede der i den sydlige ende af Rabi. Vores datter, Momere, blev født i 1978, og en søn blev født i 1980. Han arbejder på en gård i Tabwewa. Min kone døde for to år siden.

Jeg har altid været fisker, en stærk og sund person. Men for et stykke tid siden blev jeg syg – en slags problemer med mine ben. Mine ben var lammede, så jeg kunne ikke stå eller gå. Lægen vidste ikke, hvad årsagen var. De sendte mig til hospitalet i Savusavu, men stadig kunne ingen sige, hvad der forårsagede sygdommen.

Søndag tilbringes i kirke eller derhjemme med at hvile sig med familie og venner. Størstedelen af ​​Rabi-øboerne er metodister, og der findes en fin metodistkirke i Uma.
Søndag tilbringes i kirke eller derhjemme med at hvile sig med familie og venner. Størstedelen af ​​Rabi-øboerne er metodister, og der findes en fin metodistkirke i Uma.
John Casey

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For omkring to måneder siden besluttede jeg mig for at komme og bo her i Motawa. Jeg vil gerne fange fisk og forsørge familien. Min svigersøn bor i Fatima, i landsbyen Nuku, og de børnebørn går på Banaban folkeskole.

Så hver dag svømmer jeg fra klokken 10 om morgenen. Jeg bliver derude indtil måske klokken fire eller fem om eftermiddagen, afhængigt af tidevandet. Jeg svømmer ud til revet og fridykker så – og jeg bruger de timer på at fange fisk. Jeg tager mit spyd med, og jeg fanger papegøjefisk, klippetorsk, nogle gange trevally og mange andre slags fisk.

Jeg vikler en snor om min krop, med den ene ende i munden og den anden ende bundet om taljen. Efterhånden som jeg fanger hver fisk, fastgør jeg den til denne snor, så alle fiskene hænger ned omkring min krop, og mine hænder er frie til at fortsætte med at fiske.

Hajer tiltrækkes af trevally, så man skal passe på ikke at tage for mange af dem med på én tur. Hvis nogen spørger mig, hvad jeg synes om de hajer, der følger efter mig og snuser rundt, vil jeg sige: "Mennesker vil lede efter deres mad, og hajer vil lede efter deres."

Fader Ipolito, den første katolske præst i Banaban, hilser på sognebørn i Fatima-kirken i landsbyen Tabwewa.
Fader Ipolito, den første katolske præst i Banaban, hilser på sognebørn i Fatima-kirken i landsbyen Tabwewa.
John Casey

Mine ben har det meget bedre nu – jeg kan gå igen – så måske har svømningen hjulpet. Lige i dag er de ikke så gode, så jeg besluttede mig for ikke at tage ud til revet. Men normalt tager jeg afsted hver dag.

Jeg tror, ​​jeg bliver boende hernede i denne lille by Motawa ved kysten med min datter og de fire små børnebørn. I mellemtiden bor vi bare i dette lille hus, der er lavet af pandanusvævede vægge, men snart vil vi bygge et større og stærkere hus.

Kopra vokser i en lille plantage her. Den vokser godt, men det er en lang og hård tur at bære kopraen ned herfra i Motawa hele vejen til landsbyen Nuku, så båden kan bringe den videre til markedet.

Hvis du spørger mig, hvilke råd jeg har til, hvad den yngre generation af banabaner her på Rabi bør gøre, vil jeg sige: "Lav ikke andet end at plante og fiske!"

Rabis liv

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Jeg er Kiaimoa Tekenimatang og kommer fra landsbyen Tabwewa. Jeg blev født her på Rabi i 1983, så jeg fyldte 21 år i oktober 2004. Vi havde en stor kavafest i maneabaen med måske 20 af mine venner der – vi sang og snakkede og grinede og groggede.

Jeg gik på Banaban folkeskole, derefter på Rabi High School for at gå i 1. og 2. klasse, og så på en anden ungdomsskole for at gå i 3. klasse, men så blev jeg færdig med skolen. Jeg nød skolen, især matematik og grundlæggende naturvidenskab. Jeg var ked af at skulle afsted, men det er dyrt med skolepengene, og man får ikke meget mad, når man er på kostskole.

Jeg arbejder med landbrug. Jeg planter dalo og kassava, yagona, kartofler og vudi [bananer]. Jeg går til haverne hver morgen omkring klokken 8 og vender tilbage omkring klokken 15. Selv hvis det regner, går jeg stadig i haverne.

Jeg vil meget gerne besøge New Zealand en dag og se mig omkring på gårdene der, inklusive køer og får, heste og grise og honningbier.

Nogle gange tidligt om morgenen går jeg på grisejagt med mine venner. Vi bruger spyd. Først går hundene hen og finder grisene, og så følger vi efter. Nogle gange skal der fire spyd til for at dræbe grisen, og måske skal der fem eller seks mænd til for at bære en stor gris tilbage til landsbyen. Vi laver svinekødsuppe og andre retter. Vi skærer og salter den også, så den kan opbevares i måske et par uger.

Min yndlingsmad er dalo og fisk – især tun. Jeg tager nogle gange ud og fisker med min far eller min onkel om dagen for at fange tun. Nogle gange fanger vi 100 eller 200 fisk i sæsonen. [En sæson er en periode på omkring en uge omkring fuldmåne, hvor en bestemt type fisk er rigelig, og der er en god bidperiode.]

Min kones navn er Temarawa. Hun er 18 år gammel. Hun holder huset pænt og syr – kjoler og skjorter; og hun sælger disse til andre i landsbyen. Stoffet, hun skal bruge til den syning, kommer fra Savusavu.

Jeg kan ikke forestille mig et bedre liv end dette af vores på Rabi.

At komme i skole til tiden

Mit navn er Takenteiti Corrie. Jeg er 14 år gammel og bor på Rabi Island. Jeg går i tredje klasse på Rabi High School, hvor mine yndlingsfag er regnskab og økonomi. Jeg håber, at når jeg er færdig med skolen, kan jeg gå på Fiji School of Medicine i Suva og studere til læge.

I min fritid i weekenderne kan jeg godt lide at spille volleyball og netball i den landsby, hvor jeg bor – Tabwewa. På Rabi har vi fire landsbyer, og disse har de samme navne som de gamle landsbyer i vores hjemland, Banaba – men jeg ved ikke meget om den tid.

Min bedste veninde hedder Teria Tekenimatang. Hun går i 4. klasse på Rabi High School og bor i landsbyen Nuku. Vi deler en masse hemmeligheder, men jeg kan ikke fortælle jer om dem, for så ville de ikke længere være hemmeligheder! Teria er en rigtig god sanger, og jeg kan godt lide at lytte til hende synge.

Min yndlingsdag på året på Rabi er den 15. december. Vi kalder det mindedag for at markere ankomsten i 1945 af alle Banaban-folket, der kom fra Ocean Island efter krigen, da minedriften havde ødelagt Banaba-fædrenes hjemland.

Den dag markerer starten på en uge med festligheder, og den bedste del af disse for mig er sportsturneringen, hvor mange hold deltager i konkurrencer. Vi har også atletik, og jeg kan godt lide at løbe 100 meter.

Begivenhederne under festlighederne den 15. december inkluderer te karanga, en stor parade med bands, danseoptrædener, atletik, sportsturneringer mellem landsbyerne, konkurrencer i måttevævning og kokosnødskrælning samt en Miss 15.-konkurrence.
Begivenhederne under festlighederne den 15. december inkluderer te karanga, en stor parade med bands, danseoptrædener, atletik, sportsturneringer mellem landsbyerne, konkurrencer i måttevævning og kokosnødskrælning samt en Miss 15.-konkurrence.
John Casey

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Mine yndlingsretter på denne ø er dalo og fisk – især wahoo, en dybhavsfisk, som min onkel tager hen for at fange i sin kano, som vi kalder en vaa. Han tager afsted omkring klokken 19 med mange andre mænd, hver i sin egen kano. På en rolig nat sætter de flere liner ud og venter.

Wahooen kan være en meter lang. De skal kroge den og derefter hale den op på vaaen. De behøver kun at fange én fisk på en tur, den er så stor. De er meget kloge fiskere, og de kender landemærkerne, så de kan se vejen sikkert hjem, selv i mørket. Engang var jeg ude med min onkel bare for at se ham fange en fisk.

Der er kun én bus på øen [skrevet før de to nye busser ankom], og den kører os til Rabi High School hver dag. Hvis den går i stykker, skal vi gå; det er 10 kilometer fra Tabwewa, og det er meget varmt her, så det tager to timer at gå så langt, og to timer hjem igen. Vi skal afsted klokken 6, fordi skolen starter klokken 8, men nogle gange ved vi ikke, at bussen er gået i stykker, før klokken 7, så når vi så går, kommer vi for sent til timerne. Jeg kan ikke lide at komme for sent til timerne.

Året før sidste havde vi orkanen – cyklonen Ami. Den kom om natten, og vi blev alle inde i huset, og vi bad hele natten, indtil den var ovre. Det var meget skræmmende, og taget blæste ned over os. Men vi kom ikke til skade, fordi vi bad. Ko raba. Det er min historie.

At lære at fiske

Mit navn er Joseph Paul Tuari. Jeg går i skole på Banaban Primary School, og jeg går i 4. klasse. Min lærer er en fijianer ved navn Nemani. Han er en god lærer.

Jeg vil gøre mit bedste i skolen, så jeg endelig får et godt arbejde. I fremtiden vil jeg gerne være lærer.

Efter skole plejede jeg at tage min fiskesnøre og stille mig på havmuren og begynde at fiske. Nogle gange fangede jeg 15 fisk på omkring 7-10 cm. Jeg kan godt lide at spise frisk fisk. Jeg vil lære at fange store fisk, ligesom min far gør. Min far er Rabi-politimand, og han hjalp mig med at skrive denne historie ned.

Jeg vil tilbage og se mit hjemland, Banaba.

Gud hjælpe os.