One Ocean, One Home

The ocean…

Standing by the shore, I was immersed in a sensory feast that only the ocean could provide. The waves crashed onto the sand, producing a roar of applause for the beauty of nature. The briny scent of the sea was so pungent that it seemed to tango on my taste buds. I could hear the sound of my body’s internal rhythm as I stepped into the world’s largest swimming pool.

As I gazed out into the ocean, I was captivated by its awe-inspiring grandeur. Its blue hue was tinged with a subtle green undertone, and its surface shimmered like millions of diamonds colliding with the waves and caressing the sand. With each step I took, the sand felt like a gritty cloud I could sink into.

The water played a game of cat and mouse, teasing my toes as it rushed back into hiding with each incoming wave. But as the cycle repeated, the water crept closer and closer, until I felt the rush of the current under me and the sand slipping away from between my toes and back into the ocean. In the distance, I heard my cousins’ laughter, adding to the symphony of sensory experiences that made me feel so connected to the ocean.

Growing up on island was something I had always been proud of. My favorite answer when describing home was “the ocean’s my backyard.” But surrounded by water on all sides, I always felt a bit out of place. I had never liked swimming in beaches. More so, I didn’t know how to swim. Most kids learned to swim before they could walk it seemed, but I never quite got the hang of it. The thought of going into the water filled me with a sense of anxiety, and I always managed to find an excuse to stay on the shore.

I did, however, admire the grandness of the ocean. Banzai Cliff has been my sanctuary for as long as I can remember. Before I could drive, I’d get excited when family members came on island to visit since it meant driving around the island and visiting Banzai once again. I was awestruck by the stunning view of the vast blue ocean meeting the clear sky. Sometimes, I would sit for hours, lost in thought as I contemplated the vastness of the sea and the mysteries that lay beneath its surface. And since I’ve gotten my driver’s license, whenever I needed a break or a moment of solace, I would hop in my car and drive up to Banzai Cliff.

There’s something special about being able to escape the hustle and bustle of daily life and just sit and admire the beauty of nature. Every day I get to be there, I consider myself incredibly lucky to live on an island where I can quickly escape to the peacefulness of Banzai and feel the ocean breeze on my face.

But the more I grow to love my home, the more it’s taken away. Pacific Islanders are called to be the guardians of this ocean. But despite being the lowest regional carbon emitters, Pacific Islanders are the very ones experiencing severe negative impacts of climate change. Over the years, I myself have noticed a significant change in the way the ocean interacts with our island. I remember walking along the beach one day and noticing how high the tide had reached, covering much of the sand and creeping closer to the buildings behind me. It was a jarring sight, and it made me feel like our island was getting smaller. As the sea level rose, the beach that I used to play on as a child, Micro Beach, began to disappear. The water would come closer and closer to the buildings that lined the shore, and during high tide, large portions of the beach were completely submerged. I remember feeling a sense of sadness and loss as I watched the beach that had been such an important part of my childhood disappear before my eyes. It felt as if the days of hearing children laugh as they bike along the pathways, smelling the smoke of grilled barbecue, and watching the sunset were slipping from my fingers.

As time went on, the effects of climate change on our island became more and more apparent. Recently, I learned that military personnel had plans to release fuel into the ocean near our island. The thought of such a toxic substance being introduced into the very waters that are so vital to our way of life was alarming and deeply concerning. As someone who has always felt a deep connection to the ocean, it was difficult not to feel a sense of outrage and sadness at the thought of our precious waters being contaminated. The ocean is not just a source of food and livelihood for us, it is also a spiritual and cultural symbol that has played a central role in our lives for generations.

Still, my love for the ocean prevails. Even after all the challenges we face, I’m eternally grateful for our ocean and the ways in which it connects us. Whether it’s through the food we eat or the stories we share, the ocean is a reminder of our shared humanity and our responsibility to care for the natural world.

As I stood on the beach, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean in front of me, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the community I grew up in. It was a community that understood the importance of preserving our home and protecting its natural beauty, a community that came together to do beach cleanups and other initiatives to ensure that our ocean remained healthy and vibrant.

It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly and a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. The water sparkled like diamonds, and the waves crashed gently onto the shore. It was hard to imagine that this peaceful scene was threatened by the impacts of climate change. But I knew that our community was up to the task. I looked around at the people gathered around me, volunteers from all walks of life who had come together for this beach cleanup. They were a diverse group, united by a common love for our island and a shared commitment to preserving it.

As we worked, picking up litter and debris from the beach, I felt a sense of purpose and belonging. This was my home, and I was proud to be part of a community that cared so deeply about it. And as we finished up the cleanup and gathered for a group photo, I felt a sense of hope for the future.

In the past, my biggest fear was drowning—the vastness of the unknown. But now, I no longer fear it, because I constantly live in waves of the unknown.

The ocean…

The crashing waves reverberating with each other, showcasing their might through their deafening roar and the distant cries muffled by the distance. The briny scent of terror tingling on my taste buds. The ocean seemed like a vast and bottomless pit of sorrow and suffering, dim and chilly with a sense of uncertainty. The sensation of an imminent end, yet not quite.

It echoes: “[The] sea is our pathway to each other and to everyone else, the sea is our endless saga, the sea is our most powerful metaphor, the ocean is in us.”