Celebrating Vaiaso o te Gana Tuvalu

Newly promoted University of Auckland Pacific health Professor Vili Nosa, fondly recalls his time visiting Tuvalu, discovering that not only airplanes arrive and depart from Funafuti International Airport

With a scarcity of land and only a few flights a week, the tarmac becomes a stage for everyday life as a public park. Locals arrive daily to play volleyball, ride motorbikes, share picnics and connect.

While most can relate to the childhood experience of an approaching vehicle temporarily halting a game of cricket or touch played on suburban roads; the sounds of a siren at Funafuti International Airport signals an incoming plane, alerting locals to quickly depart from the runway.

Professor Nosa says he and colleague, Associate Professor Dame Teuila Percival would walk up and down the airstrip. The Pacific scholars visited Tuvalu several years ago undertaking research in climate change.

“It’s a very special place for me. That’s just what you do when you’re there,” he says of the experience that left a lasting impression: “It's such a small island, you walk from one side to the other side, and then back again,” he recalled.

“Tuvalu is an important place,” says Professor Nosa. “Especially with the challenges of climate change. It’s a frontline of survival, but also of strength. The people are grounded, generous and deeply connected to their land. That runway - it’s more than infrastructure. It’s a metaphor for movement, for gathering, for holding space,” he says acknowledging Tuvalu’s fortitude (with its highest point just 4.6 metres above sea level) having to face existential threats from rising tides.

The runway - rebuilt to withstand climate extremes - is a symbol of resilience and adaptation. It was originally constructed by the United States Navy in 1943 during World War II, today serving as both a lifeline and a legacy.

Professor Selina Tusitala Marsh, the newly appointed Commonwealth Poet Laureate, also has ancestral ties to Tuvalu.

She describes poetry and language as essential tools for cultural survival:
“Poetry is our torch,” she says. “It illuminates paths between our diverse cultures and histories. When we honour the artistry within our communities - whether it flows from Samoa, my mother’s island, or Tuvalu - we recognise the inherent dignity and worth of every person whose story deserves to be told.”

She traces the legacy of her name back to her Tuvalu roots from grandfather Vailei Tusitala.

“I am the proud granddaughter of Vailei Tusitala from Niutao and Funafuti in Tuvalu, it is from him that I got my family name and legacy of Tusitala - storyteller.”

In Aotearoa New Zealand, some six and a half thousand people identify as Tuvaluan, according to the 2023 Census. With a median age of just 21.5 years, the community is young and deeply connected to both ancestral roots and contemporary challenges.

At a recent international climate summit in July, Tuvaluan Prime Minister Feleti Penitala Teo delivered a powerful message:

“The seas are rising. But our resolve rises faster. We will endure.”

“Climate change is not of our making, but it will certainly remake us,” he said.

“Tuvalu is sparing no weapons to future-proof the integrity of its land territory. We’ve amended our Constitution to declare our statehood in perpetuity, no matter what happens to our physical land.”

Tuvalu is also archiving its culture, building a national museum, and creating a permanent digital repository of traditions and history. These efforts ensure that Tuvaluan identity will endure - even if the land itself is lost.

As Tuvalu Language Week unfolds the image of a runway doubling as a park is a reminder that spaces can be repurposed, stories can be retold and futures can be reimagined.