After several years working with the Small Grants Programme funded by the Global Environment Facility (GEF) and administered by UNDP, I thought I had a good sense of what “remote” meant in the Solomon Islands. 

I’ve been to the Reef Islands in Temotu Province before, and coming from a community in the Western Province myself, I know what it’s like to live far from Honiara or any major urban center. But nothing prepared me for Tikopia.

Tikopia isn’t just remote. It’s another world.

Tucked away in the southeastern corner of Solomon Islands, this tiny volcanic island—just 5 square kilometers—is a green jewel surrounded by endless blue. 

Home to around 1,200 people of Polynesian descent, Tikopia is steeped in tradition, culture, and community governance that has withstood the tests of time and climate.

When I first heard about the St Luke Community Faea Water Project, I was excited. 

After more than 20 years of hardship, five communities—four in the Faea District and one in Ravenga—were finally getting back access to clean, sustainable water through a network of dams and 31 standpipes. 

That’s 576 people now drinking, cooking, and washing with clean water, right at their doorsteps. It is a milestone achievement. And I have been eager to witness it. But getting there was no easy feat.

The Journey: Crossing into the Unknown

The most common way to reach Tikopia is by ship. However, our team took the less common—and riskier—modality: by boat. 

As we left Lata, the provincial capital of Temotu Province, the feeling was quite different from any of my previous trips within Solomon Islands. 

It was as though we were traveling to a place beyond the edge of the known world, crossing vast stretches of ocean where we were just us, a compass, offline GPS maps, and a lot of trust in the sea.

Hours passed, and the ocean seemed endless. Even with my experience traveling across different provinces in Solomon Islands, this journey was something else entirely.

It reminded me how isolated some parts of our country truly are, and how service delivery—something we take for granted on urban centers — is a challenge many communities live without for years, even decades.

Tradition First: A Visit to the Chiefs

Upon arrival, our first obligation was to observe traditional protocol. Tikopia is governed by four chiefs, and visiting each of them is not just a matter of respect—it’s a vital part of connecting with the community.

What struck me most was entering the chief’s thatched hut, designed with a tiny doorway that requires you to crawl on your knees. 

It’s humbling, purposeful, and symbolic—a physical reminder of the required humility in the presence of leadership. 

These structures aren’t just ceremonial. They’re built with a deep understanding of the local climate. 

Designed to withstand fierce cyclones, they are a perfect example of traditional knowledge shaping resilient living environments long before the term “climate adaptation” entered our vocabulary.

Water Is Life—And Now, It’s Within Reach

The highlight of my visit was seeing firsthand the impact of the St Luke Community Faea Water Project. 

For years, families had relied on rainwater tanks and a decaying 1980s-era water system that had dwindled to a single, usually dry standpipe. 

During droughts, mothers and children walked long distances, sometimes carrying water in containers for hours.

Now, with two newly constructed dams and a network of standpipes throughout the five villages, water is at their fingertips.

I spoke with Mr Pae Seivaea, the Chairman of the St Luke Community, who told me, “This project has relieved one of our longest-standing burdens.” 

The joy and pride on his face said it all. For the first time in decades, the community no longer has to choose between collecting water or going hungry from time spent away from their gardens.

Masi and the Spirit of Resilience

But water is not the only challenge, Tikopia’s resilience runs deep, also in their food systems.

Another fascinating aspect of Tikopia’s resilience is the traditional food preservation of a local delicacy known as masi. 

This fermented cassava pudding is stored in underground pits and is a critical food source, especially during times when the island’s food gardens are destroyed by cyclones or droughts.

This knowledge of food conservation is not merely a cultural practice but a food preservation method in an island where scaricity is common. 

In a place so isolated from the rest of the world, where the next shipment may not arrive for weeks or even months, these traditional methods of storing food ensure that the islanders can endure harsh times when their regular sources of sustenance are wiped out by natural disasters. 

This ability to plan and store food long-term, using natural methods, reflects generations of wisdom and survival instinct.

Reflecting on Resilience and Community

As I reflect on my journey, I am filled with awe and admiration for the Polynesian people of Tikopia, whose resilience is evident in every aspect of their lives. 

They have withstood cyclones, droughts, and the limitations of living in such isolation, adapting to the challenges they face with grace and ingenuity. 

Their ability to make the most of their resources, preserve their traditions, and live in harmony with nature is a powerful reminder of the strength of the human spirit.

The Tikopia people embody the essence of resilience. They have faced hardships that many of us can hardly imagine and have found ways not only to survive but to thrive in a world that offers few external resources. 

Their strength, unity, and resourcefulness are an inspiration, and I leave the island with a deep sense of respect and admiration for their way of life.

A Hope for Connection

As I bid farewell to Tikopia, I can’t help but wish for better connectivity for the island. 

While the isolation of Tikopia has preserved its unique culture and way of life, improved access to resources—such as regular shipping services and more reliable communication with the outside world—would help the islanders navigate the challenges they face more easily without erasing the beauty of their traditions. 

This project has shown what’s possible when communities lead and development partners listen and support. 

The people of Tikopia earned every drop of that clean water through their patience and resilience. It was the first time the Small Grants Project support an initiative in Tikopia. 

But hopefully it won´t be the last. Because in Tikopia´s quiet strength, I saw not just resilience—I saw hope.