Translate

Tuesday 31 March 2015

During the past few weeks this equatorial and tropical belt of the Pacific has been "hit" by several vicious powerful storms.  A seriously orchestrated well-armed with a variety of handheld weaving automatic weapons, a cache of ammunition to reload, some breaks for a bit of a stretch of the legs and nature calls, and an armada of blue-grey sedans unleashing streaking rainshowers and bazooka loads of wind for 36-48 hours, lights and wifi out, grey grey grey and whitecaps, a mean rolling relentless drive by,  with roofs heaving and breadfruit bombs exploding on metal roofs... a grey geo-sphere;  all... i mean... all land is underwater... millimeters or miles of water. Cramped damp and crouching against this volley... is what a hit feels like...on an atoll.  No where to go and no means to go...or come.

This last weekend- Majuro atoll ( Marshalls) was hit.  Not by a cyclone or typhoon nor a banana storm but by a breadfruit buster.  Breadfruits bounced n flew 15meters across my roof and landed at record distances.  The atoll, land and people and lagoon and ships and planes in hangars, crouched, like a damp mouse...as the ocean and atmosphere "hit".  This is how it felt :


Monday 30 March 2015

So, to bell the cat is impossible? or of unknown difficulty? or a foreseeable challenge? or  not simply executable or...um, ok, it is not for pus...er, the pusillanimous!?

Can a collection of atolls, a nano-nation at best if it is compared to continental macro countries, a mouse on the global field of foraging big nation-felines, roar loudly, bravely and sound the gongs of claim and calamity? can it do much more to protect itself...can it contribute much more to bell the cat of climate change?


Marshall Islands' atolls depicted by cowries on a stick chart used as a traditional aid to navigating seen & unseen  currents & wave patterns over vast oceanic distances ...