As the sun sets in Tuvalu, children climb and play on mountains of sand that have been dredged from the seafloor. Women walk in the ocean shallows searching for shells that have travelled up with the sands, to make necklaces and other decorative pieces.
Little by little Tuvalu, a tiny atoll in the Pacific Ocean, is being swallowed up as the ocean rises from under the once solid ground. This is the reality facing its 12,000 inhabitants who live in the shadow of possible climate change extinction, mostly as a result of rising sea levels.
A child’s teddy bear is part of the debris washed up along Tuvalu’s coastline
For six days each week, heavy machinery operated by local workers moves large piles of sand around in an effort to reclaim land and prevent the flooding and destruction that comes with king tides. When the workers pack up in the afternoon, children enter the site, oblivious to the “must wear steel cap boots and a hard hat” signs.
Top: Children play in the site where land is being reclaimed and extended as part of the Tuvalu Coastal Adaptation Project. Bottom: Locals drive their scooters across the airstrip in Funafuti, Tuvalu
Nearby at the airport, locals gather. The runway, which cuts through the centre of the island, receives just three flights a week. At other times the airstrip serves as a pitch for long games of late afternoon volleyball, and a place for children to ride bikes or play cards. Women sit in circles with little ones, laughing and talking among themselves.
Each day at 6.45pm, all work, traffic and play comes to a stop as locals observe a time of devotion, praying or spending time on religious practice.
A local church in Funafuti. Faith is central part of life in Tuvalu
On Sunday Tuvaluans go to church. Church halls are filled with the sounds of voices singing in harmony with the distinct rhythm and tone that can be found across the Pacific.
After the service, families spill out into the streets wearing their Sunday best, brightly coloured outfits patterned with flowers, while women and men alike wear a fou – a wreath of tropical flowers worn on the head.
People gather at a community hall to enjoy a feast with other church members
The Sunday feast is a meal which has had to evolve over the years as climate change affects the quality of the soil and king tides wipe away ground crops, making fresh local produce harder and harder to grow. Tinned meat and packet noodles are mixed into the more traditional fare of cooked green bananas and taro in coconut cream and freshly caught fish.
The day moves to Tuvalu’s own rhythm, slowly and calmly, but with purpose. After the feasting, children move outdoors to play, teenagers use their phones to sing songs karaoke-style, while adults find quiet spots under trees or in the corner of the community hall to let their food digest until the next part of the programme begins.
When the time is right, the adults gather in circles and play a drum that wakes the sleeping from their rest. The women swap their church outfits for T-shirts and sarongs, and move in unison to the drum beat, dancing faster and faster until they can’t keep up and laughter erupts. This display is known as the faitele.
Members of a Bahá’í church strike out a beat on a large communal drum while others take part in a traditional dance called faitele
A young girl at a community gathering in Funafuti
As darkness approaches, men sit in circles drinking kava in backyard shacks, strumming local songs on guitars and relaxing into the darkness of night as the sound of waves crashing on the nearby shoreline provides an ever-present rhythm.
Strong cultural values and an easy-going nature are signatures of Tuvalu, but everyday life is increasingly disrupted by the intrusion of reality: their island is slipping away.
The reclamation work brings hope of a future on the island, and opportunities for local people to learn new skills.
Uilla Poliata is a local foreman working on the Tuvalu Coastal Adaptation Project
But the reality remains that within 30 years, the land on which Tuvaluans make their life is predicted to be uninhabitable, and by the turn of the century, the country may have completely disappeared – and with it its language, culture and way of life.
Young boys walk along the coastline as the sun sets in Tuvalu
The airstrip in Funafuti runs down the centre of the widest part of the island
