(09 Sept. 88) Riklon had the look of a man who had lost everything. The portly man, wearing a Hawaiian type shirt, gray slacks and sandals, sat lethargically in a lounge chair on the veranda next to the Outrigger, official watering hole for Roi-Namur.
I was told that if I wanted information on the commander’s address to the displaced Marshallese of Roi-Namur, Riklon was the man to see. Our conversation took up the better part of two hours on this, my last full day at Kwajalein Atoll.
After introducing myself I got right to the point.
“I understand the meeting with Colonel Harris didn’t turn out so well.”
Riklon looked at me and shook his head.
“We are like the Jews used to be. We have no homeland.”
Colonel Harris, the new commander of the U.S. Army Kwajalein Atoll, had just visited the several hundred Marshallese living in exile on Ennubirr.
The importance of this lovely island to the United States has resulted in profound changes in the lives of the island’s former inhabitants with tragic consequences. The story of these refugees is a familiar one to the Marshallese. It’s one of removal from their home islands by the Americans, with little or no compensation and a vague promise to return the land at some unspecified date. Some of the more familiar relocations have been from the nuclear devastated islands of Eniwetak and Bikini. Click to enlarge image.
The last residents of Roi-Namur were removed from their ancestral lands by the U.S. in 1960 in order to establish this tracking site for missile tests. Some went to densely-packed Ebeye Island in the southern part of the atoll while the rest were put on the small island of Ennubirr.
“We did not want to leave.” Riklon told me, “But what could we do? They said we could return when they were finished.”
That was twenty-eight years ago. Since then the Marshallese have utilized lawsuits and peaceful occupation of their home island to obtain compensation for their displacement and the unsatisfactory living conditions on their new island.
But yesterday Colonel Harris, the commander of USAKA, had arrived with bad news for the people of Ennubirr. He said that because the Republic of the Marshall Islands is no longer a part of the U.S. Trust Territory, the United States will stop providing the residents with free flights to Kwajalein Island. In addition, their shopping privileges at the BX convenience store on Roi Namur would be terminated. The Marshallese were advised to open their own store on Ennubirr.
According to Riklon, the colonel promised to send a water barge to supply the island on a regular basis and to provide electric power from Roi-Namur.
One problem that has affected all of the Marshallese at Kwajalein Atoll is the islanders’ dependence on the worst of American (and other nations) processed food to survive. Riklon said the when he was a boy living on Roi Namur they had plenty of food. Coconuts, Pandanus, breadfruit and taro grew in abundance. Seafood was plentiful.
“Now, he said, “The food is killing us. It’s poison.”
Another potential threat (previously mentioned) to the health of the islanders are the powerful tracking radars on Roi-Namur. These radars emit high frequency radiation at a power output of two to five megawatts. If anyone on the tracking island strays in front of the radar during missions, the operation will shut down immediately.
On many of these tracking missions, the radar is aimed at Ennubirr. The danger zone includes about one half of the island.
Before any operation begins, an American police officer travels there on the ferry and places a red metal flag on the pier. The people of Ennubirr are to remain indoors until the operation is complete. No one questions if their houses offer sufficient protection from the radiation.
The Marshallese, though, rather than have a significant portion of their lives disrupted further, simply go about their business. No studies have been done to determine what effect, if any, these operations have had on the islanders’ health over the years.
The Marshallese of Ennubirr, like many of their countrymen, are in a transition culture. Some of the old ways have been replaced. Others, such as the deep-rooted tradition of sharing, are being assaulted by the insatiable demands of a money economy. The result is a tremendous psychological stress on individuals and families.
Adding to this problem is a feeling of being set adrift, with no realistic chance of ever being able to return to the way things were–the good old days.
As a result, alcoholism and conflict are quite common among the Marshallese. The suicide rate for fifteen to twenty-four-year-old males is one of the highest in the world–up to ten times that of the same age group in the United States.
One young man from Ennubirr told me of a friend who went to Hawaii and returned home with a degree in agriculture. A few months later he hung himself.
“I don’t know why he did it, he said, “But he was very quiet. He thought a lot about things.”
The former residents of Roi-Namur often think about their homeland. As a Marshallese petition to the United States once put it, land “means more than just a place where you can plant your food crops and build your houses; or a place where you can bury your dead. It is the life of the people. Take away their land and their spirits go also.”
The Marshallese on Ennubirr are tired of their nearly three decades of “temporary” relocation.
Riklon: “I don’t care about the money. I just want to go home. I can tell you that the day the Americans leave is the day we return.”
The United States, though, has a lease on the atoll that extends into the next century. The military and scientific value of the installations on Roi-Namur are such that return of the island to its rightful owners doesn’t appear to be in the cards.
I believe that reality finally hit Riklon and his neighbors at the meeting yesterday. Their land had been taken from them.
And their spirits also.
This is the last installment of Almost Paradise. I hope the journey was worthwhile.
Filed under: Almost Paradise Volume 3
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