The call of conch shells brought the dolphin hunter to the attention of people from the bed. Under the moonlight, six people rushed to the country church.
A pastor led them to pray softly, and his voice could hardly hear the crash. The trend was very high that day. The salt water gathers in part of the village, located on the island of Fanalei, a fragment of part of the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific.
They first rowed their wooden canoe before the first light, cutting through the darkness until they were miles from the shore. After hours of scanning the horizon, one of the hunters, Lesley Fugui, saw the fins cut into glass of water. He raised a 10-foot-long bamboo pole, tied a piece of cloth to the end, allowing others to discover his discovery. Then he called his wife. He found the dolphin. Hunting will begin.
These people were the last dolphin hunter in the Solomon Islands. Some protectionists say the massacre is cruel and unnecessary. But for the 130 residents of Fanalei, traditional hunting has become a sense of urgency as climate change threatens their homes. They said they needed lucrative teeth to use dolphins as local currency in order to buy land on higher ground and escape sunken homes.
Each tooth gets $3 for 3 Solomon Islands dollars (about $0.36) (price set by Fanalei’s chief), while a hunt of about 200 dolphins can bring tens of thousands of dollars a day, more than any other economic activity on the island.
“We are also sorry to kill the dolphins, but we really have no choice,” Mr. Fuger said, adding that if there is another way to secure the future of his family, he would be willing to give up hunting.
Crops can no longer be grown on Vanley, one-third the size of Central Park in New York City. The once fertile land was destroyed by encroaching on salt water. The government has used seaweed cultivation as a source of income, while overseas conservation groups provide cash to end the hunt. But the ocean is both an existing threat and the most profitable resource for villagers. Government research shows that the island can be underwater by the end of the century.
“For low-lying islands like us, we have witnessed with our own eyes how the rise at sea affects our lives,” said Fanalei director Wilson Filei.
Over time, dolphin teeth allow villagers to extend for the new church, sea wall and local primary schools.
During the January-April hunting season, people here can kill a thousand dolphins, but hunters say the weather is becoming increasingly unpredictable, making it harder for them to find and capture pods.
When dolphin meat is eaten and eaten with nearby food, betel nut and other products, but teeth are a real prize for hunting. They are used in cultural activities, and the families of the expected groom are given to women by hundreds of people at traditional bride price ceremonies.
In recent years, most villagers have fled to a nearby island. They continued to hunt dolphins from there, saying they needed to buy more land to accommodate those who stayed and support their growing population.
Dolphin hunting is Van Ley’s community affairs. That morning Mr. Foger exuded a pleasant harsh sound when he raised the flag. The children climbed up the trees to watch the hunters and cheered for “Kirio” in the local Lau language so that every resident knew the hunt had begun. The man hanging in a canoe near the shore broke into the ocean to help the hunter form a semicircle around the dolphin and cover it to the landing.
Once the teeth are collected, according to the strict hierarchical system, they will be shared in each family: the hunter receives the largest share (“first prize”); the unstudied married men receive the second largest share. The remaining teeth are divided into widows, orphans and other families, with no male representation.
Rural leaders also put some of their teeth on hold for the “community basket” of their main works. One day, they hope that this will include purchasing land to expand a larger resettlement village on South Marata.
These stocks are an important safety net for residents such as Eddie Sua and his family. Mr. Sua was once a skilled fisherman and dolphin hunter who was paralyzed from his neck two years ago and has been bedridden ever since. These days, during the tide tide tide, his family flooded.
“We must be afraid of these floods, because that will allow us to act to save lives,” he said.
Mr. Florence Bobo, the wife of Mr. Sua, said that dolphin hunting was very good or “good lumps”, and he said in the local Paigo language, especially now that her husband cannot support the family as he used to. Both of them hope to finally have enough money to move to the island.
“If we don’t have dolphin teeth, we have no choice but to eat rocks,” Sua said.
But a successful hunt will never be sure. After discovering the dolphin, Mr. Fuger and other hunters began to defeat the fist-sized rocks underwater, driving the pods to the shore. But a trawler crossed behind them, the roar of its engines submerged the dull roar of their rocks. The dolphins dispersed and returned empty-handed.
Midway through this season, there was only one successful hunt in the Solomon Islands, where a village near one killed more than 300 dolphins.
Experts say it is not clear whether dolphin hunting is sustainable. Some of the more common hunting species appear to have healthy populations, said marine biologist Rochelle Constantine, who teaches at the University of Auckland and Kabini Afia, a climate and environment researcher in the Solomon Islands. However, the impact of hunting remains unclear more coastal and smaller dolphins.
For Fanalei people, the more pressing problem is not the future of dolphins, but their survival in the face of the ocean.
“Hunting dolphins may be our identity, but our lives and children’s lives – it’s important,” Mr. Fuger said.
