I slept in my clothes last night, on the bare wooden floor of one of the houses the first boatload of people to be evacuated from the Carteret Islands are building for their families. It was a jet-black night in the small clearing hacked out amid the jungle, the dark broken only by our two candles and the lights of Fireflies jigging in the trees.
Working up to his departure for the Carteret Islands to report on the world's first officially recognised climate change refugees, Dan Box considers how travel insurance takes on a whole new meaning...
Something is starting to bother me about this trip. It’s not the travelling (though when I picked up my flight tickets yesterday, the travel agent warned me that people in Papua New Guinea still wear bones through their noses. I promised to keep an eye out).
Making your own wine, or the joy of something for (virtually) nothing. A few years back, my father decided that it was time to clear out his shed (Serious business, that. I could swear that his shed was a portal to another world, where its primary function was that of a municipal tip).
Lying off the coast of Papua New Guinea, the Carteret Islands are slowly being engulfed by a rising sea. Follow Dan Box's weekly blog as he journeys to meet the Carteret Islanders - the first people to be officially labelled as climate change refugees.
We interrupt our regular programming for
a moral advisory... My country's war on the natural world parallels its war on that other silent Other, namely people who live far enough away to have their own God, to avoid our products, to traffic about in robes and dark skin.