When I first arrived in Onotoa, one of Kiribati’s southern islands, I was welcomed not only by the community but, in a way, by the ancestors. Following tradition, an elder led us to the island’s shrine: scattered stones to the untrained eye, but a sacred gathering place for generations. He called upon the ancestors and guardians of the island and spoke to them on our behalf.
We paused at the ruins of the old maneaba, where decisions once shaped the island’s future. Stepping barefoot into the empty structure for the ceremony, I quickly realized I was no match for the hot, sharp stones beneath my feet. The government officers in the team had to support me as I shuffled along, laughing at my clumsy attempt to keep up. After “greeting” the ancestors, we refreshed at a legendary stone well, its water astonishingly fresh and cold, unlike the salty wells found elsewhere on the island. At the white sandy beach, I was asked to place sand on my cheeks—a gesture to ensure the ancestors’ protection during my stay.
That ceremony reminded me that resilience in Onotoa is both spiritual and practical. It framed the purpose of my visit: to join the government’s Integrated Vulnerability Assessment (IVA) mission, a process designed to understand the very real struggles communities face in the age of climate change. The Office of the Beretitenti (OB) leads IVAs across Kiribati, with UNICEF providing technical support along the way.
Behind Onotoa’s beauty lie daily challenges. The IVA revealed that many wells, once the lifeline of the community, are now saline. Some families have moved to other villages in search of freshwater. Coastal erosion is another pressing issue, the sea slowly eating away at the land, threatening homes, graves, and cultural sites. Marine life is declining, coconuts are less productive, and families face tough decisions about their future. Yet, even in the midst of these challenges, the hospitality of Onotoa shone brightly. I was offered their special dish, tuae, dried pandanus sheets soaked in coconut cream, sweet and tender with every bite. Food, even when scarce, was shared generously.
What makes the IVA process powerful is not only the information it gathers, but how it gathers it. Unlike a survey where outsiders ask and communities answer, IVA uses participatory, narrative methods that let people speak about their challenges and realities in their own words. Government officials didn’t just collect data; they sat with groups in each village, inviting them to share stories, experiences, and reflections. Alongside these consultations, household surveys and technical assessments helped confirm and expand what people shared. Together, these three strands of community voices, household realities, and sector-specific knowledge—wove a holistic picture of Onotoa’s assets and vulnerabilities.
For a country like Kiribati, where climate change is not a distant threat but a daily reality, this process is critical. The IVA is the first step to ensure that adaptation projects and donor support are grounded in real community priorities. In Onotoa, the IVA made clear the urgency of investing in water security, protecting coastal areas, and creating sustainable livelihoods. But it also highlighted the strength of the people: their willingness to share their stories, their cultural pride, and their ability to adapt traditions to changing times.
As I left Onotoa, I carried with me more than notes and data. I carried the sting of hot stones under my feet, the blessing of the ancestors, the taste of pandanus and coconut cream, and the voices of families determined to continue their lives on this small but proud island. The challenges are immense, but so too is their resilience. With the right support and resources, islands like Onotoa can continue to honor their ancestors while building a bright future for their children.
