Manihiki's Black Gold

It’s a typical island house – modest, weather-worn, doorless, louvers in the windows – except that outside there’s no yard and no neighbour. The house is built on a patch of coral reef called kaoa, and it’s surrounded by cerulean sea.

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Punarei... lost in the tribe

We climb into the back of a jungle-worn truck and, before we can sit down, Ngaa throws it into gear. Peering from beneath the hat of dried kikau (coconut fibre) he wears on his head, his eyes search for ours in the rearview mirror. They find their target, and Ngaa launches abruptly into a powerful discourse.

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Where My Heart Rests

Leaning against the weathered wall of a beachside hut, June Hosking gazes at the wind-whipped sea before us. She’s wearing garden gloves and a tie-dyed pareu; her feet are caked in mud. This is her mid-afternoon break.

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