Leave pristine Pagan alone!

So much has been said about pozzolan and the presumed wealth we could reap from it. Even the ignorant have spouted that it would bring in millions of dollars. But I suppose it’s okay to boast in the sea of ignorance on an island where marshland reed scientist rule coffee joints. No wonder the persistent disorientation rather than focused discussions on most issues here.

The Department of Public Lands commissioned a study to determine the approximate quantity of pozzolan on Pagan. It is estimated that there’s about three million metric tons of it. A circular sent to countries that use pozzolan to harden cement products didn’t go anywhere. Our pipe dream that China would jump on the opportunity fizzled out. China has sufficient power generation with fly ash she collects and uses for cement hardening. So out the window goes our presumed wealth from pozzolan.

I took an aerial tour of the island if only to see how far the mineral was blown and deposited when the volcano erupted. It runs from the crater down toward the shore and cliff lines to the west and north on a third of the island. A lot has disappeared into the water. Inclement weather adds to the slow but steady erosion. About the only solid thing left behind is basalt, a material well suited for road paving. The volume is sufficient to pave the roads of the entire Micronesian islands. But how do you extract and move it out of the island given the lack of basic infrastructure?

The day I was leaving, I asked the pilot to do a slow ascent, snapping scenic shots of the beautiful landscape below that runs up the crater. One thing stood out in my mind: If basalt and pozzolan were extracted, what would be the extent of the destruction to Pagan? Would reclamation funds be sufficient to restore her natural beauty or would extraction leave behind the indelible destruction of greed permanently compromising the natural setting and majestic beauty of the pearly isle?

As the island disappeared behind me, issues of her delicate nature and the prospects of resettlement kept creeping in mind. Her beauty and location are exactly the prominent and unique features that make the island a piece of volcanic rock to romanticize about, warranting careful or meticulous planning. It’s best fit for small cottages around the upper and lower lakes, safari, picture taking, and a swim in her hot springs endowed with health healing properties.

That it is geographically parallel with the Aloha State across the Pacific conjures an island with unique ambiance and beauty we can’t find anywhere else. I get a mental view of Eden and the natural flora and fauna supporting this lush and pristine verdant strand. There’s also the livelihood of our ancestors who laid the foundation of culture and tradition, a simple and beautiful way of life among the old Chamorros. Wow! Call it Eden Isle, paradise unto herself.

Resettling the island presents troubling issues: For instance, opening up Regusa Hill for homesteading would be problematic. The land begins on the windward side of the island that gradually rolls up the hill. It’s wide open for destruction from storms. A 30-mile an hour wind would wipe out any non-cement structure. You move south and you find two craters that rumble every now and then. Whichever site is used for homesteading, there’s the costly basic infrastructure issue that local government must resolve by way of planning, financial support that must include an emergency ship anchored outside 24/7. Thus, resettlement seems a long shot and if may I may declare so unilaterally, “Leave her alone!”

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Life on an isolated island was simple. That evening as I called it a day, I could envision folks working together to supplement supplies from the business center by planting staple food and making do with the abundance of wild livestock and fish. The closely-knit community does almost everything together. From dawn to dusk, the men are out piling coconuts for copra. Women attend to the family garden. They never had to contend with the demands of a modern community. Life goes on in all its simplest form for happy campers.

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The uninhabited islands up north are remote and quite a distance from the business center. Beautiful and pristine their natural settings may be, none is equipped with port or commuter airport facilities to aid travel or transfer of heavy equipment and cargo. Islands such as Sariguan, Anatahan, Alamagan, Pagan and Agrighan all need some sturdy port, much like Rota Island to the south. They share a common denominator: None of the islands has a reef to ease huge waves moving in from the deep blue.

The difference is in the population base of all five islands. Rota has about 5,000 people. The islands up north hardly any. So where do we focus spending scarce resources? Rota’s needs has greater urgency given the number of folks who live there today.

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Understandably, those who once lived up north wish to return for one reason or another. I quiz what it is that they have in mind: The simple life of farming and fishing? Turning any land receipt into cash after acquisition? Is it really the idea of resettling a remote island so far removed from the hustle and bustle of small island city like Garapan? Of course, there are more questions than answers.

Resettlement would mean much more than a simple fantasy of reliving the past. You have to have basic infrastructure, i.e., ports, power generation, water supply, sewer system, schools, health clinics, roads, police and fire substations; teachers; doctors and nurses; and a standby ship anchored off the island in the event of another lethal eruption. It takes lots of dough to turn this into reality. How I wish it could be done for the sake of those who once lived there. How wonderful a feeling that would be saying, “I’m finally going home.” But the money to fulfill it isn’t anywhere in sight.