Clinging to home as the ocean envelops the Solomon Islands

Clinging to home as the ocean envelops the Solomon Islands
Clinging to home as the ocean envelops the Solomon Islands

Sikaiana, less than two square kilometers, is surrounded by the sea and is home to just 300 people. It is also more than 200 kilometers from the main island of the Solomon archipelago.

Most homes are located steps from the shore, where high tides flood the tree line and seep into wells, making fresh water scarce.

Still, life continues with a sense of routine. Children walk barefoot to school, fishermen prepare their nets, and families tend to their gardens as they always have.

At the island’s only school, principal Tuiao Kapule pauses to draw rainwater from a storage tank, a precious resource on this isolated atoll where every drop counts.

“When I was a child, life in Sikaiana was not like that,” he says. “Now the tides are higher, salt water levels have increased and it is more difficult to grow food as before.”

He watches his students play nearby and their laughter echoes through the schoolyard. “Families find it difficult to cope with the changes,” he says. “Some students stay home when there is not enough to eat.”

© IOM/Junior Patrick Makau

As rising tides reshape life on Sikaiana, director Tuiao Kapule worries about what the future holds for the small atoll.

That same afternoon, Tuiao is outside her house with her youngest son in her arms.

“Sikaiana is my homeland,” he says quietly. “But if we ever have to leave, I’ll leave. Life on this island isn’t what it used to be.”

Her story reflects that of Mary Maike, an elder of the community who has lived her entire life by the sea.

“When it rains a lot, we can’t harvest,” he says. “Our gardens depend on the weather. When the sun stays out too long, the tanks dry out, so we have to find wells, collect water and boil it before we can drink.”

Mary Maike resident of Sikaiana.

© IOM/Junior Patrick Makau

Mary Maike resident of Sikaiana.

He watches his grandchildren play while the older ones rest nearby; Life on the island continues as always.

“If we have to relocate, it will depend on our leaders,” he explains. “Even if we agree to move, we don’t know where we would go. We would prefer to stay near the sea because we depend on fishing and shell collecting. Moving inland would make our lives very difficult.”

In the Solomon Islands, stories like Tuiao and Mary’s are increasingly common as rising sea levels, stronger storms and climate change reshape everyday life: flooding gardens, polluting wells and eroding coastlines.

In Sikaiana, the change is clear: the atoll rises only four meters above sea level, protected only by a narrow strip of mangroves.

For Tuiao, Mary and other low-lying Pacific communities, there is no higher ground. Dams are too expensive and difficult, making relocation the only viable option.

Sunset over Sikaiana, a remote atoll located more than 200 kilometers from the nearest main island.

© IOM/Junior Patrick Makau

Sunset over Sikaiana, a remote atoll located more than 200 kilometers from the nearest main island.

The fate of small islands threatened by climate change is one of the topics that delegates will discuss at the United Nations Climate Conference (COP30) taking place in Belém, Brazil.

It is not a new challenge.

In 2022, the Government of Solomon Islands, with support from the International Organization for Migration (IOM), launched the Planned Relocation Guidelines, a framework to manage the relocation of communities from high-risk areas as a last resort.

IOM is helping the Government develop a standard approach to the planned move, ensuring it is transparent, inclusive and upholds the dignity of islanders while ensuring their long-term future.

When the sun sets on Sikaiana, the waves gently crash against the shore, a constant rhythm that has long defined life on the island. However, beneath the calm surface lies uncertainty: how long can this way of life last?

Like many families in the Solomon Islands, Tuiao and Mary hope their children will have a safe home and a future they can build with pride. Whether they remain in Sikaiana or move elsewhere, their unity and strength sustain them with dignity.

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