Words by Susan Prior, photographs by Betty Matthews
This article is my opinion only.
If you are visiting Norfolk Island as a tourist or you are intending to, thank you. I’m sure you will love the place as much as the residents here do. It’s so beautiful, how could you not? But please understand that it’s not always easy to give you that fresh OJ you are accustomed to. Or that tonic to go with your sundowner gin. Businesses do their best, but things are not always as straightforward as they seem.
In the photographs accompanying this article you can see the state of Norfolk Island’s main food store. The shelves are almost devoid of stock. The last ship to deliver goods to the island was late in December, unloading early in January. The next one is due on 19 March. That is three weeks’ away. If it arrives on time and if it can be unloaded, that is. It all depends on many things, not least the weather. And (perhaps arguably, depending on your politics), that is out of our control.
The words ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,’ were said by philosopher George Santayana (1863–1952).
There is a memory, a sort of circular feeling, to that date – the 19 March. It’s a date that saw the sinking of HMS Sirius in 1790. The new Norfolk Island colony (the colonial settlement as it is known) had only recently been founded in January 1788 and was struggling to produce enough food and goods to be self-sustaining. The island’s new inhabitants, convicts and settlers both, were desperate; they thought they’d been forgotten by the British when, finally, the Sirius heaved into view accompanied by the smaller ship, Supply.
Only to be snagged on rocks and sink in foul weather, just off Kingston.
The optimism of the fledgling colonies of Sydney and Norfolk Island sank with that ship, leaving the residents of both settlements devastated and in dire straits, and with only one ship, the Supply, to resupply their needs.
But let’s go back a bit further, to 10 October 1774. On that day Captain Cook stood offshore in HMS Resolution trying to find a safe place to land. He managed it the next day at what is now known as Duncombe Bay, although why he thought this a suitable spot is beyond anyone who has visited the site.
Fourteen years later, and six weeks before the British reclaimed the island for Britain in 1788, the French explorer La Perouse sailed by. He surveyed the rocky cliffs, and sighted the craggy reefs. Unable to land, he famously described the island as being ‘fit only for angels and eagles’.
There’s a pattern developing here.
And that pattern has continued over the 230-plus years of habitation by Britain and Australia.
Fast forward to, let’s say, the year 2000, for the sake of argument. It’s still difficult to come ashore. There’s no infrastructure to cope with shipping containers – and increasingly the world’s cargo is containerised. Therefore, the island is still serviced by small non-containerised ships, which, in themselves, are a dying breed. They are expensive to maintain and service, and it’s difficult to get the cargo ashore. All goods are break bulk, so, in short, it is uneconomical and there’s little incentive for shipping companies to invest in these kinds of vessels.
It should be noted here that the lighterage guys on-island are an amazing breed of men. Strong, agile, skilled and probably a bit gung-ho, too, if the truth be known. It is a dangerous job. And the tourists love the show. But can we keep hanging on to this archaic system as a show for tourists?
Back in 2000, and probably long before, the death knells of this kind of cargo handling were ringing across the Pacific and the world at large. Gradually, those precious small ships dwindled in numbers until we are where we are today. They are a scarce resource.
In 2020 we have six ship deliveries scheduled. Last year, 2019, even though we saw the ship schedule hiccup with waves of uncertainty caused by bad weather and breakdowns, we still managed more than double that number. It just doesn’t compute if you want to keep the island supplied with 21st century consumables.
Let’s put some more context around this. Island businesses, already suffering from a downturn in tourism as people throng to the cheap Bali markets or the family friendly Fijian resorts with babysitters laid on 24/7, have coped with the fairly recent imposition of Australian taxes and wage rates, superannuation, and work, health and safety rules – plus a lot more besides. It’s been a lot to take on board, with most of them doing an amazing job of getting their heads around this. I am not going to get into the whys and wherefores of this here, or even whether this is good, bad or indifferent. It’s just a fact. Running a business anywhere is hard Yaka and requires organisation and planning. But how can people plan when they don’t know how many months’ stock they need to carry in order to conduct their business. Most companies these days work on the principle of ‘just in time’, but you can’t do that here. The cost of carrying all this extra stock, which may have short use-by dates, is onerous.
On top of all this, local businesses soldiered through issues associated with the new biosecurity regulations; suddenly stock coming from what were once trusted jurisdictions were now brought into biosecurity-question – chook pellets, for example. Again, I am not saying we don’t need effective biosecurity here. We have a lot to lose if it goes wrong. But it is just another complicating element of doing business on a small island in the South Pacific.
The islanders were told that the freight service was an issue for the private sector, for the free market, for capitalism. Fair enough. I couldn’t agree more. The Australian Government is actually subsidising air freight to help out with the situation. Not that it is feasible to ship a heavy product that is low value like chook pellets by air.
Stock held up. Stock unable to be loaded. Stock off-loaded due to other priorities. It is impossible to plan.
But the businesses kept going, by and large. This is a community well-used to ‘making do and mending’. And they do.
Sign on the counter of The Olive Cafe in Burnt Pine
In fact, I recall back in the late 1990s being invited to dinner somewhere, but I could only go if I bought an onion with me as my contribution! And another time it was a toilet roll. This community has seen shortages plenty of times. But nothing quite like this. The next ship due on 19 March will barely resupply the shelves. We will then wait again until 8 May for the next one. The knock-on effect of the current shortages will be felt for months and months.
Now in 2020, the issue has come to a head. Many items are completely out of stock: concrete, stock feed, rat baits, frozen vegies, cat and dog food, dishwashing liquid, baby food, tinned fruit, pasta, juice, toothpaste, jam, breakfast cereals and, god forbid, tonic water! The list is actually a whole lot longer than that. Shops are working shorter hours, cafés are struggling to feed customers, tourists are aghast. People are letting their chooks, which for many have stopped laying, fend for themselves.
The free-market argument is looking a little sad right now. After all, if you don’t have infrastructure that’s fit for purpose and no one wants to service your needs, even for a price, then you have a problem, don’t you?
I am all for capitalism. I live and die by it as a sole trader working for myself. Capitalism is based around a free-market economy where it is all about supply meeting demand. The idea is that when an entrepreneur spots a gap in the market, they rush in to fill the vacuum because there’s money to be made. But in that process there is no guarantee that a person’s basic needs are going to be met. Sadly no one is rushing to fill our transport vacuum and the islander’s basic needs, goods to turn the wheels of commerce, are barely being met.
Economies and their people around the globe rely on their governments to build and largely fund, from taxpayer monies, transport infrastructure. This infrastructure is then used to move things, to generate business and to stimulate the economy. And this is what Norfolk Island needs. It needs a long-term solution that will bring some certainty to the economy and allow islanders to rebuild their businesses. And they will.
I want to emphasise that this is not a new issue. It is not an issue of the Australian Government’s making. But it is an issue that Norfolk Island needs help in fixing in order to secure its future.
In truth, all this is compounded by a long-lasting drought leaving many islanders dependent on an Australian Government desal plant for water – for which we are incredibly grateful. But the drought means there is little water to spare anywhere, let alone on the household lettuces. Many of us are running out of options. The mood is gloomy, for sure.
So 230-plus years on, and what have we learned?
I am sure that behind the scenes wiser heads than mine are grappling with this issue. It is a tricky conundrum for sure. We are a small-beer community, however, we need a big-champagne budget to fix this.
The question has to be asked: where do we go from here?
Can anyone tell me?
And does anyone one have the Toowoomba Wagner boys’ mobile numbers? We have a job for them!
This article was first published in The Australian on 29 February 2020.
