Solomon Islands festival sees family members fight each other with spears. But climate change threatens its existence
On a remote beach in Solomon Islands, family members sort out their differences with spears.
But another threat is proving far more dangerous.
Loading...It’s 2am, and the only light on the island comes from burning embers being thrown through the air.
Villagers emerge from the bush to batter them, driving away the evil spirits.
The Wogasia festival has begun.
And in four hours, the spear fight will take place.
'In our blood'
No one on the island knows when the festival began.
Some say many hundreds of years ago, others say at least since the island — known as Aorigi to the local villagers — was named Santa Catalina by Spanish explorers in 1568.
The island itself, a remote dot on the map about 400km south-east of the capital Honiara, is like a postcard image.
Pure white sand, coconut trees and turquoise-blue water. Underneath the water, vibrant coral is home to schools of tropical fish.
Mobile reception is patchy at best and the internet barely exists. The population — just over 1,000 — live a slow, simple, traditional island life: fishing, farming and family.
But once a year, the festival comes around — and everything changes.
The ABC, along with two lucky tourists and a handful of local visitors, were invited to the island to witness its ancient traditions.
According to the island's leaders, Wogasia means "to offer sacrifice, or to worship". And at its core, the festival is a new year celebration — a festival of fertility — with the people of Santa Catalina celebrating their very own 13-month calendar based on the yam harvest.
It has three parts:
One is religious -- the people of the island pray for healing and to scare away sickness. They also pray for hope that their plants will grow.
The second is a social element, where villagers — and outsiders — get together and feast.
The last element is cultural activity. And that activity is centred on an age-old tradition …
… involving a spear fight.
"It makes us get to know each other," Chief Joseph Faerua says.
"We get in pairs and recognise who our tribe is, who our cousins are.
"Other parts of [the province] Makira have lost this, but this is in our blood."
'The fight'
It's still dark — just before dawn.
On the beach, a group of onlookers wait in anticipation for the battle to begin.
Their singing, beautiful and warm, fades into the salty air.
The two tribes of the island, Amwea and Atawa, emerge on either side of the beach.
They're ready.
Custom rules mean they're only allowed to fight their cousins from the other tribe.
And they use this time to scope each other out, preparing for the battle.
Loading...They've been waiting for this moment for months, preparing their spears and shields for the fight.
"We say keep them light, don't make them heavy," Chief Faerua says.
"You need to be ready to move."
Loading...The tribes coordinate their movement towards each other.
Some chant and scream provocatively — some even taunt the other side to come closer.
They line up on the sand and in the shallows, looking for their family member to battle.
The chief draws a line on the white sandy beach, forbidding both tribes from passing.
Then, the spear fight begins.
Loading...Spears zip past in quick succession.
The tribesmen dodge the incoming projectiles like ballerinas on the sand.
Loading...Some tribe members watch on, shields in one hand, spears in the other, shouting directions to their fellow villagers as the spears continue to fly.
They're waiting to substitute in, waiting for their turn.
Loading...Then, after 10 minutes, the chief wades out into the water.
He calls them to stop. The battle is over.
But some keep going.
Centuries ago, annual spearing events were used to settle real-life grievances. These days, most people take part just for ceremonial purposes.
But many still take it seriously.
So much so, the ABC spotted two mothers and a sister wading out into the water to stop a spear fight that was getting out of hand, even after the chief called it off.
Loading...And it's dangerous business — some have the scars, or the limp, to prove it.
'What is good and what is bad'
Santa Catalina is one of the most remote places in the isolated Solomon Islands.
And even though there may be no internet or mobile reception, the creep of Western influence is there for all to see: many young people were dancing to modern music on Bluetooth speakers.
And alcohol is available to buy.
According to the president of the Santa Catalina Association, Silas Maka'a, the festival, and the spear fight, is their way of pushing back.
"Some of the ways that we live are influenced by external culture [like Western influence]," he says.
"Wogasia festival reminds us [to] slow down and think.
"With the modern way of living, everything is mixed, people are coming here, bringing in that external culture.
"But Wogasia always reminds us what is good and what is bad."
But according to Mr Maka'a, there is one thing beyond their control that is threatening this peace, and the very existence of this ancient festival.
High tide, all the time
As a small, low-lying coral atoll only 3km long and 2km wide, Santa Catalina is acutely exposed to changing weather patterns.
The United Nations has identified the island as "highly vulnerable" to cyclones and earthquakes, but it says its biggest threat is rising sea levels.
It says this is affecting the quality of the shallow groundwater, which reduces in quality and quantity during dry periods, which are becoming more common.
Mr Maka'a says the well he uses is "always salty".
Further, he says the impacts of rising sea levels are threatening the continued existence of Wogasia.
"Our traditional sites for spear fighting have been washed away," he says.
"They're lost. The tide has changed. It's never low tide anymore, it's always high.
"The sea has dug out the areas where we used to have our custom houses for the spear festival — where we have it now is a different spot."
For the women of Santa Catalina, the festival holds its own special place.
They dress in banana leaves, known as Mwako Mwako.
They hold small sticks and stones and ask the gods to bless the soil.
These traditions symbolise the lifeblood of the village: food and farming.
But climate change is also having an impact on this, and by extension, the final element of the festival: the feast.
In the past, the women of the village would prepare yams. Traditionally, yams take a year to mature, meaning they were always ready in time for the annual festival.
"But they are now ready in two or three months," Santa Catalina Council of Women president Margareth Vevio says.
"They look ready to be harvested but they're not right. We can't eat them.
"These days they have to buy yams from the mainland. What else do we do?"
This year marks the first time since COVID that tourists have been able to return to the island to witness its ancient traditions.
It has given Santa Catalina's small economy a much-needed boost, with local artists selling carvings and land access fees being paid to villagers.
For Ms Vevio, tourists and visitors have become a welcome part of the celebration, helping spread the knowledge and understanding of their culture.
But the visitors are also a distraction.
And although climate change is changing the way they celebrate the festival, she is adamant it will continue for generations to come.
She says it has to.
"This festival is so, so important.
"It teaches our children about which tribes they’re in.
"I want my children and grandchildren to know their tribe and then share what they have [with the next generation].
"This festival belongs to the island, and it’ll never end."
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