October 16, 2007:

Getting to Samoa

I once had an Aussie boss who wasn’t one for a lot of words, and summed up most issues with the phrase, “At the end of the day…”  I somehow never thought that I would actually end up there.

The trip to Tokelau involved a stop in Samoa, which sits on the edge of the International Date Line.  Fiji, its neighbor to the west, lies on the other side of the Date Line and the one hour flight connecting the two, can depart Fiji on Tuesday evening and arrive in Apia, Samoa’s capital on early on Tuesday morning, a bit reminiscent of Groundhog Day.  It was a bit less confusing for me, as I had left Los Angeles around 11:00pm on Tuesday 16 October and traveling in an easterly direction, arrived, some 9 hours later, at the end of the day at 5:00am on 17 October.

The Referendum briefing was scheduled to start at 11:00am on 19 October.  Team Tokelau, as the General Manager of the Tokelau referred to us, was a diverse group consisting of folks from the Tokelau authorities, the New Zealand Government, the Tokelau office in Apia, the New Zealand Electoral Office, the UNDP office in Apia, Florentine from UNDSS in Apia, the foreign press, the visiting UN delegation which also included my colleague Walter a seasoned election expert. 

We were briefed on the training and voter education activities, and given an overview of preparations for the referendum, including actions taken on the recommendations of the February 2006 referendum UN monitoring report.  These included portable, waterproof ballot boxes that had been designed specifically for the Tokelau referendum process.  It consisted of a lightweight collapsible shell with a zipper for the slot, and another zipper to seal the lid. Attached to the shell was also a handle for to facilitate portability.  A collapsible wall made of four sections of stiffer material which is held against the inside of the shell by Velcro supports. We were also given copies of the draft constitution, drafty treaty with New Zealand, and the referendum rules, in preparation for the first day of voting on 20 October.

October 20, 2007:

The first day

The next day, armed with the checklists that we would use for the process, Walter and I went to the polling station which was located at the Tokelau Apia Liaison Office (TALO).  Our first task was to observe the sealing of the empty ballot boxes.  The polling station was then officially open for business, and some of the polling staff were the first voters.  The total voters list for Apia was only 59, and the voters thus trickled in through the course of the day….certainly no need for crowd control!

Toward the end of the day, I accompanied part of the polling team as they made visits to one voter at the hospital and another at his residence, as they were unable to come to the polling station to cast their ballot.  The patient at the hospital had just had a baby boy 15 hours before, but was happy to vote in what she viewed as an important process for the Tokelauans.

By the close of the polls, 57 of the 59 voters on the roll had voted, as well as 6 Tokelauans from the atolls who would be able to vote at their place of residence on the appointed polling day.  It all went quite smoothly, and I was happy to have completed my first day as a monitor!

Later that night we got the wharf at about 9:00pm and found the cabin with the bunks where we would spend the night of the passenger ship, the Lady Naomi.  These were some claustrophobic double-decker spaces separated by narrow passages with absolutely no room to change one’s mind.  I followed Walter’s lead and went upstairs to the dining room and found a comfortable space below one of the dining tables.  Fortunately, the Tokelau office provided us with mattresses, thin but quite wide, as well as a couple of pillows, and after standing outside catching the fresh air, chatting and watching the Apia skyline disappear into the night.

I awoke at about 5:00am and wandered outside to greet the morning sun, happy that I did not have need for my “sea legs” or motion sickness pills.  I had heard so much about this 26-hour voyage, which according to my colleagues, was much rougher the previous year.  During the day, as I looked out onto the rolling sea with the painted sky and the silhouetted clouds, I understood where some of the inspiration for the wonderful Pacific tattoos might have come from.

October 22, 2007:

Welcome to Tokelau

We awoke to see Fakaofo (pronounced “Hahaoho”), the first of the atolls that we would visit in the coming days.  Even though I had been reading about atolls in the months prior to the mission, I still had no clear idea of what one would actually look like in terms of size and layout.  But here it was: a ring of coral islands, enclosing a lagoon, formed by the protruding perimeter of a submerged volcano.

A small aluminum boat was sent out to bring us ashore and we clambered in, trying to keep our balance on the swaying boat as we stepped across the wooden palettes on the floor of the small craft.  The ballot boxes and polling material were loaded into the boat, and it was then that I first caught sight of the Tokelauan policemen, dressed in the whitest of uniforms: white British colonial police hat; white policeman’s shirt; and white lavalava (traditional skirt).

We came ashore at about 8:00am and made our way with the crunch of coral under our feet to the polling station.  This was a beautifully decorated “fale” as large as a volleyball court.  I decided to take a walk around the atoll before settling down to begin our first day’s work. 

Later in the afternoon, I left Walter at the polling station and set out with the mobile polling team to the larger island of Fanuafala.  We used the “school bus” that takes the children from Fakaofo to the school there.  We visited about four elderly voters at their homes; they cast their ballots and wished us well in our work and travels.  As we walked along the coral paths, past solar-powered street lamps in the 40-degree sun, the Tokelauans greeted us with big smiles and their customary salutation “malo”.

Following the close of the polls, there was the usual round of speeches by the Tokelauan and international dignitaries, followed by some traditional dancing and singing by the men of Fakaofo.  Back on board the Lady Naomi, everyone was happy that the day’s events had gone well. 

October 23, 2007:

Nukununo…Paradise Found

The next day we made our way downstairs to board the aluminum boats that came to whisk us away over the shallow coral beds to the wharf at Nukununo.  Following the now customary welcome ceremony and opening of the polls, the spacious polling station came alive with the steady flow of voters, many of whom bore features much different from those of the Atafu residents.  It was no surprise that many families carried surnames like Perez and Perera.  It seems that, in the 18th century, some Portuguese landed in Tokelau and never left. 

One of the first things that a visitor to Nukununo notices is that the turquoise blue sea is the ubiquitous backdrop for every scene on the island.  Even the poorest house is framed by the amazing gradations of blue that surround this paradise of smiling and friendly people.  Later, I again accompanied the mobile polling team carrying the special ballot box to the infirm and the elderly, and took the opportunity to take some of the best photos of the trip up to that point, including of some lads playing cricket with a hard rubber ball in the burning sun.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, the number of voters coming into the polling station had slowed to a trickle, but 181 of the expected 182 voters had managed to show up.  After the polls closed, we caught the small boat that would take us back to the Naomi.

October 24, 2007:

The Big Day

The following morning, we got ashore at Atafu, and immediately set about our respective tasks: the Tokelau authorities holding their meetings; the electoral folks preparing the polling station; the media getting set up with their internet connections.  Here we were on this possibly historic day…the place was abuzz with excitement and activity.

After the time the polling station opened at 9:00am sharp, more than 30 persons voted in the first half an hour, and we were thinking that the polling would be over by lunchtime.  This was not to be the case, as the pace eventually slowed to about 15 persons each hour.  In any case, 195 persons had voted on Atafu by the close of polls, and preparations immediately began for the count.  At this point the Tokelauan authorities, the foreign dignitaries, and the press, began assembling around the counting area.

Walter and I observed the breaking of the seals and the opening and emptying of the ballot boxes, which was followed by the count.  The whole affair was exceptionally smooth which was the result of the hard work of the Tokealauan polling team, trained and supported by the Alofa from the New Zealand Electoral Office.  As the respective “Approve” and “Reject” piles of ballots grew, it was apparent that the affirmative votes were not an overwhelming majority.  The question was, would they be enough to get the two-thirds majority of the total 692 valid votes?

After the counting team rechecked their initial tabulation, the count manager came over to the observer table and we verified their arithmetic.  The result was then passed to the Referendum Commission.  The Ulu then slowly rose and announced that the 446 votes in favour of the free association proposal had not met the required majority.  There was a stunned silence across the room.  For some, all the hard work over the past year and a half had not paid off.  Tokelau would remain under New Zealand’s administration.

In the months following the referendum, there have been discussions among the Tokelauans and the New Zealand government on the future of Tokelau.  It appears; however, it will be quite some time before the question of self-government is again put to a referendum.