Silent call of the rainforests of the ocean
In Fiji’s Mamanuca Islands, a volcanic archipelago and popular tourist destination comprising 20 islands, a concerted effort is being made to protect the marine environment, writes Intan Maizura Ahmad Kamal
HIS eyes squinting against the glare of the morning sun, Kolinio Mataiyaga Vulaono waves in the direction of a dive boat bobbing in the distance. Two strapping young men waiting by the vessel return his wave before turning their attention to their task of assembling some makeshift steps which they proceed to attach to the boat.
Under the shade of the ketapang tree (Tropical Almond Tree), Castaway Island, Fiji Resort’s environment officer Kolinia, who’s hard to miss in his striking yellow T-shirt, continues with his lively presentation on the resort’s coral planting programme. Around him is an animated group, adults and children alike, most of whom comprise the resort’s guests. A little girl, her blond curls peeking from under her sunhat, furtively attempts to touch what appear to be mounds of cement attached to a steel frame table. Kolinio smiles before whispering to her to be gentle.
Guests at Castaway get to participate in the Mamanuca Environment Society (MES) coral planting programme, which involves replanting living coral in reef systems around the island that may be suffering. MES is a cooperative effort between the government and private industry and they work together to monitor and maintain the health of Fiji’s surrounding marine ecosystems while also engaging the local community and visitors in ocean conservation.
As the resort’s environment officer, Kolinio, a graduate of Fiji National University with a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Management, also collaborates with other tourism operators, communities, government and non-government organisations in addition to promoting OZONE, Outrigger Resorts’ global conservation initiative, which started back in 2015 and whose primary focus is to protect the health of the world’s coral reefs and oceans.
The OZONE programme, the brainchild of Castaway’s former owner and MES chairman Geoffrey Shaw, is activated at each of the nine beachfront Outrigger Resorts, of which Castaway is one, through various local partnerships, namely the government, private industry, and conservation organisations, with year-round efforts to protect the environment and educate guests on how they can contribute.
RAISING AWARENESS
At Castaway, coral planting is a once-amonth activity, serving as a platform to bring awareness to the guests on the importance of the marine ecosystem here, explains Kolinio, as he carefully applies additional dollops of cement onto the rows of “donuts” on the metal “table”. “Growing coral is a long term project but if we can keep planting, we’ll be able to have more in the future,” he adds.
According to statistics, more than 60 per cent of the world’s reefs are under immediate threat, of which the top three threats to their existence are global climate change, land-based sources of pollution and negative impacts from fishing. And there are more than 500 million people who depend on these coral reefs for various needs. “If we don’t do anything now to protect the coral reefs, our entire ecosystem is at risk,” warns Kolinio to his now-sombre “audience” whose hitherto lively chatter has been reduced to grim silence.
The arrival of a resort staff bearing a bucket of water offers a timely distraction. “What’s inside that?” drawls an elderly lady, her twang distinctively American. We all crowd around the bucket to see what’s inside. “This is a ‘head’ of staghorn,” explains Kolinio, pointing to the floating “plants” inside. I duly discover that staghorn corals, a species of branching stony coral with cylindrical branches, are the fastest growing corals on the reef and are excellent reef-builders. Staghorn can grow at up to 10cm per year in the best conditions. Enthusiastically, Kolinio beckons for volunteers to help him plant the seedlings into the cement. It’s a fiddly process and one that needs to be done swiftly before the cement dries.
Soon enough, there’s a nice “collection” of “donuts” complete with their crown of staghorn coral on the steel “table”. We all step back to admire our “handiwork”. “Ok, time to take these babies out to sea,” says Kolinio as he’s joined by a resort staff who proceeds to help him lift the “table” so that they can make their way to the waiting boat. The “table” will be placed in a mild current where coral has previously been known to grow well.
We troop happily behind Kolinio, headed for the crystal clear azure waters of the South Pacific Ocean. A gentle breeze provides a welcomed respite against the sun’s merciless rays on my hat-less head.
I curse silently for having forgotten to pack something for the inevitable onslaught by Mr Sun. But the annoyance is fleeting as I slowly climb aboard the bobbing boat, excited at the thought of playing a part, albeit small, towards the protection of Fiji’s marine environment.
Currently, the reefs in the Mamanuca Islands are protected by an agreement made between the big (tribal) chiefs and the owners of the resorts that make their home on the Mamanuca. “It’s a mutual agreement that the villagers are aware of,” shares Kolinio, adding: “They know which areas of the reef are supposed to be protected and thus are no fishing zone. If a boat tries to come and fish in front of the resort, the locals will chase them away. It’s a bit like independent monitoring.”
Meanwhile, the local fishermen only use the more ocean-friendly method of fishing — hand-line fishing using a line with a hook. Sometimes, shares Kolinio, they do trawling but none of them use explosives, something that’s banned here. “The authorities are very strict. When they issue the people with a fishing licence, they actually inspect if they’re using the right method of fishing. We also have fish wardens protecting our reefs.”
CLAM POPULATION
In addition to its coral initiative, Castaway is also involved in giant clam farming, a project initiated by the MES. Elaborates Kolinio as we soak in the sticky ocean air on the boat: “They get the clam seedlings from the government. The government has this programme where they give out clam seedlings to any individual or resorts that want to do clam farming.”
The clams come in measuring less than an inch in size. They’re then placed in a big tray to protect them from predators such as the octopus. Once they reach a certain size — more than 20cm in length — they’re placed out on the reef.
Presently, Castaway has eight clams in total on the reef; of this eight, one is the giant clam, the Tridacna gigas, the largest living bivalve mollusks and one of the most endangered clam species. Shares Kolino: “The giant clam is said to be extinct in some areas of Fiji but we’re fortunate to have one species left with us here on our reef. It’s our hope that we can one day repopulate this reef with this species.” Time to place the structures into the sea, in an area where the coral has previously been known to grow well.
There are several factors contributing to the clam’s extinction, adds Kolinio. One is the environment. “Giant clams don’t grow in between gaps in the reef. They just sit on top. So they’re at the mercy of the elements. When there’s a big cyclone, they’re the ones that get washed out by the strong currents.”
His brows furrowing, Kolinio adds that the fact that clams are also a favourite delicacy of the Fijian people makes its existence even more challenging. “Fijians eat them raw with a bit of chilli and some lemon. They find the clams and prise them out with their small knife and leave the shells behind.”
Back in the days, clams were harvested along the beach. But when their number began to deplete there, the “hunters” started to move out to the shallower reefs, near the beach. “And that’s why they’re starting to become extinct on the reef.”
Why is it important for us to ensure that the clam population is protected, I ask. Kolinio turns to me, a look of surprise etched on his face. “They act like vacuum cleaners out there in the sea,” he replies slowly, as if explaining to a small child. Then he smiles, adding: “Their role is to clean the ocean. They suck in the water and then they put it out again, trapping all the sediments which are washed into the sea. The more clams we have, the cleaner the ocean. This will in turn help the growth of the corals that we have out there in the reef.”
That explanation digested, we continue the boat ride in companionable silence, while everyone else on the boat “ooh” and “ahh” their delight at the sight of a stunning private resort in the distance cradled by lush forest and a beautiful stretch of beach.
PASSION FOR CONSERVATION
My face flushed from the trip out to sea, my skin tanned like the locals, I make my way up the wooden steps of the resort’s cafe for a much needed drink. Settling myself by the deck area, I couldn’t help sighing at the stunning view of the ocean ahead of me. The sound of the waves languidly rolling against the shore is therapeutic, lulling me into a state of bliss. As I sip my drink and lose myself in the tropical idyll, a deep voice interrupts my reverie. It’s Kolinio. “Can I join you?” he asks before pulling a chair the moment I nod my head.
Almost in unison, we turn our gaze towards the view ahead and a comfortable silence ensues. “Have you always been passionate about the environment?” I blurt out, dying to find out more about this 26-year-old Fijian who has made marine conservation his life-long calling.
He smiles, replying: “Ever since I was small. I joined a church group similar to the Scouts from the age of six to 16. We went on camping trips to the forest and did small activities to help protect the environment. It was through those activities that I learnt just how important nature is. From then on, my passion to protect nature grew.”
Upon completing his high school, Kolinio, who grew up in Mana where his parents worked as resort staff, decided that he wanted to pursue environmental science. He adds that his interest in the environment was further fuelled by all the National Geographic documentaries he used to watch on TV and the sci-
ence journals that he loved to pore over as a child. Recalls Kolinio: “I was always fascinated by the interaction that existed between all the living things in society and the way each species was intertwined and dependent on each other.”
Sheepishly, this former technical field officer with the MES continues: “I’ve always believed that if you do good to nature, nature will look after you. When I was younger, I used to think that whenever I go swimming, sharks won’t bite me because I’ve given back to nature by planting corals. I also used to think that if I planted trees, then someday these trees will help me by giving me oxygen. I just believe in good karma.”
Suffice to say, the cause that’s closest to his heart is coral conservation. “It’s because of the unpredictability factor,” he shares, adding: “It’s not easy to work with corals — you always work on probability and chances. You never actually know what the outcome will be so you just have to keep doing your best. Then you leave the rest to the elements to work it out — and get it right.”
And if it doesn’t? Turning to the ocean, his eyes clouding, Kolinio, whose second name “Mataiyaga” is Fijian for “carpenter”, replies: “You must never stop doing the good work.”