Butaritari weekend

Last weekend I headed up to  Butaritari with the other kiwi volunteers- Cath, John & Frances. Unfortunately Roi, our Univol (university volunteer) had been flown to Fiji to see a specialist due to some health conditions that weren't responding to treatment and though was hoping to be back in time had not returned so missed out on the trip.

Butaritari is another atoll, much like Tarawa and lies about ½ an hour flying time north of here. There are three flights a week: Sun, Tues, Friday so we booked the 9am Friday flight. The flight was uneventful but the landing a little bumpy Only when we got off the plane onto the coral airstrip did I realise why. We collected our stuff from the plane- which was left by the plane’s cargo door for us. At the side of the runway was a decrepit old building that served as the domestic terminal and it was here that most locals waited for their relatives to get their gear, out of the heat of the sun. While at the far end of the runway was a goalpost and soccer field, the posts being made from local coconut. An interesting location for a soccer pitch I thought! Once we'd got our gear then we headed to our accommodation on the back of a local truck. 

Butaritari was immediately different to Tarawa, a lot fewer people (pop of the entire atoll may be 4-5, 000 tops), lots of vegetation and trees growing along the side of the main track that an the length of the islet. Many people’s huts had hedges out in front of them and there was a lot more land between ach, and a hell of a lot fewer dogs!. It is a lot wetter that Tarawa and bananas, pumpkin and other foods are grown there are sent down to Tarawa to be sold in the local markets.

There is no tourism to speak of in Butaritari so we arranged to say in some kia-kia (traditional huts) at one of the catholic churches. 

We had a pretty low key weekend, ate lots of bananas and were fed by the local church community. John and I explored the northern end of the island by bike, we did lots of swimming and walking and really just used it as an opportunity to think and recharge. Friday afternoon we went for a swim down on the oceanside and were soon joined by half a dozen of the local kids, togs not needed by the boys, who went commando. The kids ran over the coral outcroppings and splashed about and practiced their English skills with us while we struggled not to fall over getting out of the shore break and over the slippery, sharp coral rocks

Butaritari is the kind of place where every day feels like Sunday afternoon. The world beyond the atoll? Hard to imagine it exists and being tied to the 9-5 workday or needing to be any where at a certain time were completely alien concepts. Life seemed to go at the pace it probably has for the past few centuries. Sure there were a few signs of modern life, engines for boats, a couple of trucks on the island, a few motorbikes, quite a few bikes but no cars! It was kind of like getting a peek at the world as it used to be and how we organised our societies in the days BEFORE the industrial revolution.  

It was the kind of place you’d either fall in love with or would drive you mad. There wasn’t a hell of a to to do, fish I guess if you were local. You’d either love living a very simple way of life or want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Everyday seems to be very similar to the one before and it is the kind of place you could wake up one day and realise that 20 years have gone by!  

By the end the weekend I was ready to leave actually, much to my surprise. Even I would want a wee bit more going on but if your life revolved around church and community I can see how the locals enjoyed their lifestyle, just not for me.

Like Tarawa, Butaritari was the scene of a major battle which occurred almost exactly 75 years ago (Nov 20^th is the 75^th anniversary). At the same time as US Marines landed on Tarawa US infantry of the 27^th infantry division landed on Makin atoll (Butaritari). The Japanese had been using the island as a seaplane base and had fortified it after it had been attacked the year before. Most of the garrison of 300 troops and  600 noncombatants (including 500 Korean labourers). The Japanese did not fight on the beaches as they were doing at Tarawa but further inland and sniped the Americans. It took three days for the Americans to clear the island of the enemy, and in the battle US had 66 soldiers killed and 152 wounded. The Japanese garrison had 550 men killed and 105 prisoners of war, all but one of whom all but one were labour troops. Who would have wanted to have been a press ganged Korean labourer on either Tarawa or Butaritari, their survival rates were pretty abysmal- talk  about innocent victims!

Unlike Tarawa there were few obvious signs of the battle, the vegetation has regrown and the tank traps etc filled in. There are not concrete pillboxes everywhere as there are here at Tarawa. We did find the remains of one, apparently Japanese plane, which had been bought to shore after slowly rusting in the lagoon for a number of decades but only the wings remained, and were told of several other planes further out in the lagoon but as it was raining on Saturday I wasn’t that keen to try to locate them. John did find, after getting some directions from a local, a small fading memorial to the battle and those that fell there. I doubt there will be a service for the fallen to commemorate the battle and the land’s visible scars of the occupation have faded. One interesting story we did learn, the accuracy of which I cannot verify, is that the Japanese had press ganged most of the local Gilbertese (as they were known then) male population to create a new wharf and that they had planned to execute the men once the task was completed so that they could have the womenfolk but thankfully the Americans arrived before the wharf had been finished.

We were due to fly back to Tarawa on Sunday morning at 10am. John and the local priest went down to find the travel agent t confirm on Saturday evening and found him in a local kava bar. Our check in time had been delayed to 1:30pm and he was waiting to hear confirmation of the time on the local radio- our here radio is used for public information just as it was back home in the fifties and sixties. It is the most reliable form of communication and lots of public messages are broadcast each day- just like the BBC did to the French Resistance during WWII! Yep, life certainly works in different decades in some ways out here and that is pretty damn cool!

Anyway, there was a bit of confusion but in the end on Sunday morning we had it confirmed that we were to be at the airport at 1:30pm. We were on time and drove into the domestic terminal/falling down shed on the back of the truck (I’d never been driven INTO a terminal building before) and waited… As with everything out here, no point getting wound up, it is what it is, and it wasn’t until 4:30 that the plane to take us back to Tarawa finally arrived. Much to our relief as we were starting to think we’ might have to spend another night. It gets dark in Kiribati about 6:15pm every night and we weren’t sure if Bonriki airport allows night flights, so it was with a slight sense of relief that we finally lifted of and headed back home.

It was a nice weekend, a chance to spend some time on an island that few tourists have ever been to, have some fresh fruit and just chill out. Even though the weather was crap on Saturday (only time I’ve ever wished I had a lightweight sweatshirt since I’ve been here) we did get out biking, walking, swimming and just enjoyed the place.

Craig