7 The Reality of Paradise

A Listening to you speak, I sense there is much in common between you and other intrepid explorers who set out on voyages of discovery, seeking knowledge of the whole world. Always curious, they were at home wherever they landed. Having had this conversation with you, I can see there is a big difference between what we imagine the Pacific islands to be and what they really are.

S Two hundred years ago, the Europeans who arrived in the Pacific islands must have thought they had discovered paradise: the translucent blue sea, enchanting lagoons that changed colors according to the water’s depth, and so on. On top of that, the islanders whom the sailors met, especially in Tahiti, were extraordinarily friendly. Imagine, after a long, hard voyage at sea in a cramped wooden boat, being welcomed by beautiful girls on a tropical island. How could the sailors not think they had arrived in paradise? And when these Europeans returned home, they told fantastical stories about their experiences. What an impression those tales must have made. But for the most part, their stories were indeed fantasies. They spoke of islanders as leading a carefree, happy existence, always dancing and having fun.

We shouldn’t perpetuate those false ideas. We should be especially careful not to perpetuate the belief that the islanders are lazy and that their lives are carefree. In many ways, the actual lives of the islanders don’t resemble a paradise at all. For example, the Polynesians had a very strict taboo system, and it if was violated, the consequences could be a matter of life and death. Later, after European contact, diseases such as syphilis and influenza decimated many populations. In the Marquesas, to give just one example, the population fell so rapidly that the people feared they would be wiped out entirely.¹ Today, indigenous populations are just a fraction of what they once were.

If we look only at natural beauty, the islands are unquestionably a vision of paradise. I still remember when I saw Hawai‘i for the first time—and then Tahiti, and the Tuamotus. Each time I return to these islands, the sight of them takes my breath away. On the other hand, when I was in Tahiti in the 1960s, the social reality was quite different: every household had at least one person suffering from elephantiasis, a blood-borne disease that is transmitted by mosquitoes. Only later did the French government begin dispensing medicines, so elephantiasis is rare today.

A I’ve never seen elephantiasis, but I know it is spread by mosquitoes. I remember being surprised by the number of mosquitoes everywhere in Tahiti!

S It was worse when I first arrived. I was required to take a blood test before returning to Japan. The presence of disease is just one negative aspect of life in the tropics. The symbols used to portray the Pacific islands as an idyllic paradise can be both misleading and dangerous. In Tahiti, I learned never to rest under a coconut tree—which is how outsiders think islanders spend their time—especially without looking up and checking the wind direction. On many occasions I would have been hit by a falling coconut and severely injured or killed if local children hadn’t pushed me out of the way just in time. People say falling coconuts have eyes and will avoid hitting you, but in fact, they have killed many. Again, I mention this because the popular image of people in the tropics resting in the shade of a coconut palm is so far from the truth. This and many other such misconceptions need to be corrected.

A Also, while the surrounding sea is beautiful, it, too, can be dangerous.

S [Laughs] Yes, as my stories have illustrated. It’s also important to think about the recent political history of the Pacific islands, and the results of colonization. The oppression and suffering islanders experienced under foreign powers strongly contradict the notion that the tropics are places of ease and comfort. Among the many harmful consequences of colonization are the alterations it made to the way people relate to...