Dreamy isle of Kanak survival

Press, 26 June 1987, Page 17

Dreamy isle of Kanak survival

Iles des Pins, lying 50 kilometres south-east of New Calendonia, is a seemingly quiet retreat from the often troubled mainland.

It is, the travel brochures would say, a land of long white beaches where the sand running through your fingers feels like silk. A place where it is possible to hire an outrigger canoe, venturing into lagoons where shafts of sunlight shift colours from clear aqua to indigo. The butterflies appear so bright, the colour is hard on your eyes. It is where fine misty rain serves as an excuse to rest by the sweet-scented fire of a native hut

On Iles des Pins, wild orchids and indigenous pines grow in harmonious abundance and islanders smile more frequently than they do on the mainland.

But what the brochures would not say is that even in this isolated world, the indigenous Melanesians — Kanaks — have repeatedly had cause to resist the economic forces which threatened their simple existence.

The islanders initially prevented seamen from collecting and selling native . . sandalwood during the 1840 s, succeeding mainly by sentencing the culprits to death.

Later, during the 1880 s, the island was lost to the Melanesians through an influx of French Catholic missionaries who succeeded in converting them to Christianity.

This served to act as the trigger for French possession of the island. The missionaries, who exerted a Christian influence, encouraged the islanders to give up the power they had over the island’s use.

Yet the chief, Vandegou 11, who retained the right to govern but only under France, found it was no easy task collecting the annual revenue of 1500 francs he accepted in good Christian faith as a deal for the transition.

Portraits of Kanendjo, a ruler who, through Christian conversion, changed her name to Hortense, still hang in many of the

island’s homes, reminding the Melanesians of a woman who proved she had the courage to stand up to the French authorities.

But her fight against France’s 1872 decision to convert the island to a penal colony was only partly successful. The Melanesians were given permission to inhabit the eastern side of the island only and the western side was not returned to be used for their homes until the beginning of this century. Tourists visiting the island today may see little sign of resistance to so-called progress, but the evidence is still there.

Every fortnight, a barge takes Melanesians armed with mattresses and blankets, and a small collection of back-packers, on the eight-hour journey from New Calendonia.

By air, the trip only takes 10 minutes. Those who are trying to save francs prefer to take the boat , There / are, s no. .cabins on board. Sleep is gained, instead; on the rusty deck near the kitchen, where blackened pots and pans swing against the swell of the sea. .

Iles des Pins is sighted at about dawn. The island appears peaceful enough until the cargo is unloaded, a cargo which consists of a truck and other military equipment for the Army. Tired and hungry travellers who straggle through the trees to a nearby cafe are disappointed — the bread has already been sold. First orders must go to the Army.

The walk along the interlocking stretches of beach continues in the search for accommodation at Chez Winifred or Chez Christine.

There, the tiny bungalows or tent sites are relatively cheap. That the same price can be paid for breakfast reveals the islanders’ priority — shelter can

be obtained anywhere, food is far more precious. Through the trees, a ghost town can be glimpsed. It is a hotel standing only as an echo of former luxury, decaying decadence rotting like some long-lost Roman empire. Once owned by the French airline U.T.A. when it served as a holiday resort for more extravagant tourists, it is now one of the more recent examples of Melanesian resistance.

The islanders had no quarrel with.the airline which allowed the locals free access to the beach. It was later, when it chose to sell the hotel, that problems surfaced.

They began when the prospective buyer, Club Med announced a decision to close the access which permitted Melanesians to stroll from one beach to another.

Local tempers flared against this injustice, and when the Kanakas threatened to burn the hotel, Club Med gave up.

Now the once comfortable units offering beach-side accommodation in a native setting, bar, restaurant, toilets and showers.

are being worn down by nature and the odd willful act of human vandalism.

On Des des Pins the Kanaks seem happy and gentle, accept* ing the French who are commissioned to work on contract as teachers, builders, or doctors. Accepting them, that is, unless they make a move to stay. One teacher who. worked in a primary school for more than a year felt she had become part of the community, a friend to the children and their parents. But the islanders* resistance to any invasion of foreign influence for anything more than temporary help was seen by their reaction when she made the decision to stay? ‘They became quite different, they hurt, lashed out, then turned their backs completely,” she says. The Kanaks on Iles des Pins, It seems, have learned that their simple order of living for survival must be protected. Foreigners may come, but only for a temporary stay. Otherwise, that which the Kanaks regard aS most precious may be taken away.

Eight-hour trip on rusty deck