Putting aside the grounding, my memory of Nanumea, from this distance, is the flies.
Never before or since have we been so tormented. The other memory, especially from
this distance, is how Polynesian it was. This became evident only once we had passed
through the portal into Micronesia. I remember remarking to Janet almost immediately
we stepped ashore in Betio, Tarawa, "This is different. This is very different."
Up to Betio we had been sailing in a Polynesian world, Fiji included. New Zealand
included. Our previous offshore passage too. All Polynesian. You'll be saying that Fiji is
Melanesian, which it is, but Fijians have rubbed shoulders with Tongans and Samoans
for hundreds of years. Some things rub off. The Lau Group, that enchanting string of
Islands to the east of Viti Levu, is arguably more Polynesian than Melanesian, more
Tongan than Fijian. Either way, in hind sight, we had been living in familiar territory
with familiar sounds, a familiar feel. At the time, of course, we didn't see it that way.
Each island, each new place was exotic and different. But looking back from Micronesia,
it was all Polynesian, Nanumea as much as any. We had little of the language but we had
an understanding of how things were done. We could make assumptions and be
somewhere in the ball park.
After Nanumea it was a different world. Not least of the differences is where NZ stands
in their world. In the Polynesian world New Zealand, in tandem with Australia, is the Big
Smoke, the place to aspire to. Saying we were from New Zealand elicited a brighter eye,
a recognition and more often than not, a story of family down there or a powerful desire
to go there. Not so in Micronesia. In these islands the Big Smoke is the US. Few aspire to
visit New Zealand, fewer still have been. It's not on their radar. Its mention elicits no
gleam in the eye. New Zealand is just another country.
Different too is the manner in which Micronesians and Polynesians occupy their bodies.
How they move - their presence. To us, Polynesians often display a recognisable grace
and style in the movement of their, generally, very large bodies. Think Jona Lomu.
Kailopa, a Tuvaluan, had that grace of movement in spades. Despite a crook knee and
very painful elbow, he could move. I saw him dance on Kioa. You'd never know he was
in pain. His feet barely moved. Economy of movement.
Micronesians we've met are smaller, more compact. They have no more feel for rhythm
and song than we do. Gone is the broad open face of the Polynesian. But, as
everywhere, they are happy to meet, generous and gracious.