Everything we have done has been by our own efforts
Easter Island has no real health system and is cut off from the rest of the world. So when the first case of Covid-19 was reported, worried locals felt abandoned and feared the worst
Some 2,200 miles of ocean separate Easter Island, one of the world’s most remote inhabited territories, from the coastline of Chile. But in times of a pandemic, such splendid isolation counts for little. Covid-19 has crept into every corner of the globe, and even Rapa Nui, as the island is otherwise known, has found
itself vulnerable.
“We were following the evolution of the pandemic back in December, when we first heard about it,” Pedro Edmunds Paoa, mayor of Easter Island, tells The Independent. “The first case in Chile was 3 March. Four days later, I asked to close the island officially. The government was surprised. It was not thinking of doing anything like that itself.”
Pedro was met with initial resistance from Santiago, which has final say over border control, but after a phone call with the owners of Latam Airlines – which typically provides 14 flights a week to the island – Rapa Nui was closed off to the outside world. “I told them we don’t need any more passengers as we need to protect the island,” Paoa says. “They confirmed on Tuesday 17 [March)] that was the last airplane. We’ve been closed since then.”
But it proved too late. The virus had already made its way from mainland Chile, via a tourist travelling to Hanga Roa, the capital of Easter Island. There, it was passed to a 42-year-old woman who worked as an attendant at a local souvenir shop, according to health authorities tasked with tracing the infection.
The woman, who is thought to have contracted the virus between 7 and 10 March, later transmitted the disease to her husband and their neighbours. A total of seven cases were confirmed. Like so many other countries at the time, Rapa Nui was facing the prospect of its own coronavirus outbreak.
Covid-19 held the potential to overwhelm Easter Island. The presence of seven active cases was more than enough to kick-start a serious outbreak. Yet there was to be no catastrophe
The island has a long history of fighting foreign invaders – both of the physical and invisible kind. Tuberculosis was introduced to the indigenous community by whalers and European colonists in the mid-19th century, while Peruvian slave-raiding expeditions in the 1860s saw the island’s population further depleted. By 1877, the number of native inhabitants had been reduced to 111.
Now, more than 7,750 people, some of whom descend from the original Polynesian settlers, live on Rapa Nui – but the local community is a fragile one.
Inhabitants depend on the basic resources of the land for food and building materials, while necessities which cannot be produced on the island, such as medicine and fuel, are flown in from Chile. A steady flow of tourists helps to fuel the economy and provide jobs – in recent years, the island has drawn more than 100,000 annual visitors – but this can simultaneously bring with it the strains of overtourism.
Day-to-day commodities that the western world takes for granted are also in short supply: access to the internet is limited, disposing of sewage safely continues to prove problematic and health care is inadequate; indeed, the island’s hospital has just 16 beds and three mechanical ventilators, with few doctors on hand to treat those who fall ill.
Against this backdrop, Covid-19 held the potential to overwhelm Easter Island. The presence of seven active cases was more than enough to kick-start a serious outbreak. Yet there was to be no catastrophe.
Paoa and the local authorities had acted quickly in preparing the island and safeguarding it against the widespread transmission of coronavirus. Prior to confirmation of the first infection, on 19 March, a tapu was issued – a traditional Polynesian concept similar to a sacred decree or rule, from where we get the word “taboo” – which ordered people to remain in their homes. All nonessential businesses, such as hotels, bars and gyms, were closed, while supermarkets and drug stores cut their opening hours down to half days. Paoa himself begin updating Rapa Nui’s inhabitants via radio.
Concerted efforts were made to keep the island’s 724 elderly people safe. “Being a Polynesian culture, we believe that the mana, the wisdom, is in the old people,” says Paoa. In order to protect this generation, food and medical attention was brought to their homes, ensuring there was no need for them to venture outside.
The suspension of all commercial flights also ensured there would be no more imported cases. “To think of bringing help to the island or taking people away from the island would have been very hazardous and difficult,” Paoa says. “Our facilities are very weak. We had to think of health first, and the economy later.” Two weekly planes continue to fly basic supplies to the island, but strict hygiene protocols are enforced to prevent exposing the locals to the virus again.
As for the seven confirmed cases, their illness passed without any serious complications. “They were on average between 35 and 40 years old and all of them were healthy people,” says Paoa.
Despite Easter Island being left to fend for itself, Paoa says the pandemic has allowed for the creation of a new and sustainable reality, one that could, in time, replace the former way of life
The virus itself never ventured beyond the two affected households. “We banned people from going in and out of those homes for 30 days, beyond 14,” says Paoa. “Because a study we noted from South Korea explained that coronavirus can last for up to 28 days. That’s why we closed the homes for 30 days and after that we never had any other cases.”
The island has been free of Covid-19 for nearly three months now, with the tapu lifted on 31 May, though many locals continue to live distant and cautious lives. Flights to mainland Chile also remain suspended.
All throughout this period, there has been little contact from the central government in Santiago, says Paoa. “We were abandoned. Everything we have done has been by our own efforts. We don’t have any planning or asking ‘How are you? What do you need? How can we help? Is what we’re doing helping or damaging?’
There has been no communication.”
Despite Easter Island being left to fend for itself, Paoa says the pandemic has allowed for the creation of a new and sustainable reality, one that could, in time, replace the former way of life.
Much of this is down to a long-term plan that was first formulated by the island eight years ago. “This plan focuses on sustainability and optimising resources, it speaks about being responsible and respectful with the environment, with the people in a tangible and intangible manner,” says Paoa. “We’ve been working with UN agencies for the last three years for creating methodologies and to apply the agenda on this territory when this pandemic came along.”
As Rapa Nui began turning inwards, this plan was put into action. Households that weren’t already growing their own food started to do so, to the point that the island’s authorities realised “we don’t need much from the outside world”, says Paoa. “We invested in farming, we invested in families – every home must have their own production.
“We prepared ourselves in turning to a local, internal economy. If I have so many tomatoes and you have so many lettuce, let’s share. If you have more, you give some to those that don’t have much.”
When it came to work, an email was sent out to all inhabitants asking them what their profession was and how they had been affected by the lockdown. People who were no longer working, such as those in the tourist sector, were subsequently asked to help care for the vulnerable, in buying and delivering groceries or simply checking up on them.
Normal for me was a mistake that we were making on this island. Let’s think of embracing real life, of working hard in a short time of the day and spending lots of time with the children, families, our parents, our lovers
Others have started planning a strategy for how Easter Island approaches matters of tourism, recycling and long-term sustainability once the pandemic is over. In all, 1,200 jobs have been created for June, July, August and September.
And while the working day has been halved, with many businesses closing after lunch, people now have the time to enjoy the simplicities of life. “They have moments for their family, their children, to go finishing
and to relax themselves. Wow. What a discovery,” says Paoa. “Why all this hurry to accumulate and accumulate materialistic goods when, in simplicity, life is much better being together and working sufficiently enough for you to sustain yourself and the economy?”
Paoa admits that, for matters of health in particular, Easter Island remains dependent on the mainland. There are other “bridges” to Chile, as he calls them, which cannot be severed, including telecommunications and planes and ships, all of which are privatised and help fuel the island’s economy.
“The companies will come up with a pressure of opening up the island like we used to be six months ago,” he adds. “I’m envisioning that. We’re starting community talks to discuss the future and tourism.”
But, for now, Paoa wants to stop talking about returning to normal. “Normal for me was a mistake that we were making on this island. Let’s think of embracing real life, of working hard in a short time of the day and spending lots of time with the children, families, our parents, our lovers. Let’s exercise, go swimming or just read. It’s very important for the soul and mind. Let’s stop creating and making machines. No more. We need to recover humanity again.”