Tied to the Tide: What Happens to Our Stories When the Land Washes Away?

Along the coasts of Samoa, Papua New Guinea, and Vanuatu, rising sea levels are doing more than flooding beaches. They are swallowing the very land that Pacific communities have used to pass down their stories, languages, and identities for thousands of years. Elders and cultural leaders across the region are asking an urgent question: when the land disappears, do the stories disappear with it?

In Samoa, a swimming hole called To Sua Ocean Trench sits on the southern coast of Upolu island. It was formed long ago by ancient lava tubes and is now a popular tourist spot. But for the people of the nearby village of Lotofaga, it was always a place full of meaning and local legend.

Oskar Stunzner grew up in Lotofaga in the 1940s and remembers how the wind would push the tide through caves under the rocks, making them whistle and moan. He was taught that the sound was the pisaga — spirits traveling through the tunnels. The sound was a warning: stay away from the water, or the sea will take you.

When Oskar returned to Lotofaga recently, he was shocked. The rocky fishing spots he knew as a child were completely underwater. 'Where we used to fish along the rocks, it's completely underwater now,' he said. 'That's how the sea has risen.'

The pisaga were more than just warnings. They were connected to the seasons, the crops, and the fish. Elders used the sound — and the behavior of animals and plants — to predict the weather and guide their community. This ancient knowledge helped Lotofaga survive for generations.

Now the caves are full of water and the pisaga are silent. The area has become a tidy park. Oskar worries that the young people of Lotofaga have never heard the old stories. 'The old people, yes — but the young people, no,' he said. 'These beautiful stories — all that's gone.'

Papua New Guinea has more living languages than anywhere else in the world. In the Kikori River Delta, languages can change every 10 kilometers. The delta is a vast web of rivers, mangrove forests, and small islands stretching from the mountains to the sea.

At the mouth of the Kikori River sits Goaribari Island, home to the Kerawa people. The island is slowly washing into the sea. Yolarnie Amepou, director of the Piku Biodiversity Network, says more than 50 villages in the area have already been lost to climate change. Communities are caught between a fast-moving river and powerful ocean waves.

Goaribari holds the Kerawa people's origin stories — the tales of how their clans came together. Today, only two villages remain on the island, and both are struggling to survive. One village has already relocated its people two hours away, near the town of Kikori, to keep families safe and give children access to schools and health care.

Amepou says that in Papua New Guinea, every person is born to three things: people, place, and story. As islands disappear, the stories and memories tied to them disappear too. 'The loss of land comes with the loss of culture,' she said, 'and the loss of culture comes with the loss of the essence of its peoples.'