Kiritimati Island : Nuzhat Shahzadi

On a beautiful, sunny day our airplane landed at the Nandi airport, Fiji. After deplaning, I walked on the designated tarmac––dancing with the clouds in my feet, almost . . . my lungs inhaled the comfort of unbridled solace. I didn’t travel out of Tarawa in six months. During that period my home WiFi/internet antenna fell off. There was no TV service in Tarawa. Initially, for a brief period I could buy access to Sky Pacific TV transmission from Fiji. It was extremely unreliable where I lived enclosed amidst tall coconut trees. However, the service was accessible from some parts of Tarawa.

I lived in absolute isolation––cut off from the outside world. My isolation was so deep . . . so frozen––nothing could pierce through it. And then there was scarcity of everyday-life necessities . . . it was a constant battle. We were on our own––no support from the Suva-office. Work pressure was maddening. I had to put in extra time daily, kept crazy hours––office-internet connectivity was beyond unstable.

“Why doesn’t Suva-office use your expertise? It could break the cycle of hardship . . . office could benefit . . . it’s not tourism . . . (!)” NYHQ-HR was empathetic. They understood the magnitude of emotional-oppression.

Suva was in constant need of technical support. Program sections, especially child protection and WASH were keen to use my expertise, pay for travel costs. But with the change in management, everything changed. Requests for my services by program chiefs were denied by senior management, mostly.

However, NYHQ-HR advised me to submit flexible work arrangement/options form allowed in extreme hardship duty-stations. I could get certified leave-days based on the extra hours I worked––senior management had to accept it (!). Linda Andersson, NYHQ-staff counselor encouraged me to use the FWA option as we didn’t have R&R or support from Suva-office.

. . . Tinai, our health officer and I were headed to Kiritimati/Christmas Island. There were 2 weekly fights from Tarawa to Nandi and only one weekly flight from Nandi to Kiritimati. (It was closer to Honolulu). We had to wait 2 days in Nandi each way (on DSA). However, we had loads of office work––reports, finalizing funding documents, etc.

On arrival to Kiritimati, we cleared customs as we had transited via Fiji––though Kiritimati is a part of Kiribati. The island was flat, spacious with a sparse population of 5,000. The wide, main tarmac road was built by the US/British marines.

Between 1957-1962, America and the U.K. conducted 33 nuclear tests on Kiritimati and Malden islands. These were a combination of airburst and surface detonations. The largest explosion was equivalent to 7.65 megatons of TNT. The civilian population (around 500) and indigenous inhabitants were not evacuated. They were left there––exposed to radiation contaminated surroundings, facing long-term health impacts.

“Some body needs to sue the British and the American governments. It’s inhumane!” I was furious.

“Ahh . . . Nuzhat . . . our island people are too accepting, peaceful . . . don’t want to make trouble,” Tinai schooled me.

We were housed in thatched bungalows. The vast ocean dominated the horizon. On the first night I was harassed by a crab––it hid under the dresser. My screams brought the house down.

“It’s harmless . . . look,” Tinai poked it. I watched in horror as the 2 pound-heavy crab slowly crawled out of my room . . .

Our work was with the government and church partners on child survival. There was no NGO in Kiritimati. Church leaders had fierce influence.

Malnutrition, childhood illnesses as well as under five diarrheal deaths were common. Unavailability of segregated data specifically for Kiritimati was a huge bottleneck. Health services and life-saving amenities were extremely basic.

I ran a 3-day workshop and we developed a multi-pronged strategy agreed by all attendees. In my winding up speech I became very emotional. I cried. I cried for the babies who didn’t need to die . . . I was ashamed of my tears . . .

In the past, I had cried publicly in Herat . . . my mind was getting bogged down by pain, desperation I saw around me.

“No, Nuzhat, don’t feel ashamed. People understood your tears,” Tinai assured me.

The only OT & Oxygen concentrator on the entire Island . . .

We had made plans for follow up visits. Kiritimati definitely needed our technical support. Senior management in Suva rejected our next travel request. Too expensive to cover such a small population––they reasoned.

But don’t we claim “No child should be left behind?”

. . . I knew my time was up––I decided to quit.

Nuzhat with the Mayor

A high official Planning session

Click here to read more articles by Nuzhat

Or write to her at nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com