They've always been here but we could not hear them. We could not see them.

Despite the benefits I get from the English language, I am also disadvantaged by its dominance. Firstly, I am gutted that I have to use a second language as the medium of my education. Secondly, I am neglecting my mother tongue by having to study and interact more in English. Although English is my second language, my frequent use of it makes me believe that it has become my first language. I have more knowledge of English than I have of my mother tongue. In this sense, I'm afraid that I may not be making a significant contribution to the preservation of my mother tongue.

These are the words of an undergraduate linguistics student at the University of the South Pacific (USP), Anoano Lolohea, from Tonga. By the time of his graduation at the end of this year, he should have achieved the seven institutional outcomes expected of all our graduates, foremost of which is “Pacific consciousness”. This post on a class discussion forum suggests that he is indeed highly conscious of some complex tensions that he faces constantly as a Pacific Islander. But what does it mean to inculcate “Pacific consciousness” in graduates of a Pacific university if English is the only language through which serious academic study is valued?

This paper brings together a wide range of voices from across the Pacific, united by our common desire to see the region’s languages valued by, within and for our university as an institution of higher learning. Our voices are sometimes muffled by translation into English so that we can be heard by different people, and our voices frequently shift in tone and style as we engage with multiple audiences, code-switching comfortably between the strategic planning register of our institution and the honorifics and layers of meaning of communication within our own communities. Our collective contributions to this paper reflect this shifting of styles.

‘Io, he ko ‘eku lupé ena ia he tauá. Yes! that is my dove in the tower (the Royal Palace).

Here is the story of two women. Their story is one of strength and endurance, hardship and devastation, with moments of extreme triumph and victory, pain and loss, to be today, noble and humble, arrogant and modest, earthy and proper, expressive and silent, two anchors in an ever-changing world. One stands regal, and defiant, unapologetic because of who and what she is, because she had travelled a long distance, traversing the fiercest of oceans, to be here today. To get here, she had drunk in rough seas swallowing its spray, sharp rain, icy waves and yet also basked in cool Southerlies, warm sunshine and bright star-shine. She had warred, and loved, and given birth and lost, and celebrated and mourned so she knew she had a right to be that way. The other woman, whose path had been even more treacherous and sorrowful than her sister’s journey, stands silently proud and almost arrogant with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, like she has a secret. Her journey had been fraught with fire and molten rock, intrigue and suspicion, even more hot, was the sharp tongue and mocking look she did not understand. She had endured devastation of the fiercest kind, a trial by fire literally, losing everything in a flash, then being taken away from what was most familiar to a place where kind words and actions were hard to find. For so long, she had bowed under that pressure and that strain, fatigued from trying to belong, she retreated into silence and tried to forget herself. She became an oddity, brought out for show on special occasions, leading to her further shame and retreat. Yet she was never fully broken because in her was this burning fire, as hot as the traveling fire that had led to her dispossession. Though her hair became tangled and matted with tears and sweat and her clothes became bedraggled, her fingernails dirtied and broken, she had a song in her heart and a wish on her tongue that she too, one day, she would stand up as strong as the other woman. The secret in the sparkling eyes is known, how daring and exciting too. And many are envious of that look. Today, these two women need each other more than ever and they know it; their eyes smile at each other, like two friends with a secret. In order to move forward in this world today, they know they have to stand together so that they can both tell their children and their children’s children their brave stories and sing their songs the way they want to, without shame and ridicule, but with pride and love. They need each other to stay alive! ‘Ana Heti Veikune

Our story is filled with characters such as these: languages that are sometimes pitted against one another, but whose fates are intimately connected. When one language is given new space in our curriculum, this doesn’t take away space from another one; it opens the door a little wider for others to come inside. When one language is brought out into the open and invited to dance a little more daringly than it did before, this doesn’t send another language cowering to the shadows; it invites others to join in the dancing.

Back to reality though.

This is not how a university’s financial model tends to operate. Programmes compete with one another in a market, and departments need to demonstrate economic viability by ensuring minimum enrolments in their courses. Royalties and overheads are added. Disciplines that dance to different rhythms are unwelcome, because they don’t fit the protocols for quality control. Stakeholders need assurance of standards and standardisation.

In 2019, the international year of indigenous languages, and the year after our university’s 50^th anniversary, we are celebrating an achievement that we had never thought possible: the introduction of degree programmes in Cook Islands Māori, Rotuman, Tongan and Niuafo‘ou, Vagahau Niue, and Vanuatu Language Studies, alongside Fijian, the only indigenous language that had had a place in our curriculum until 2018. These programmes are aimed at fluent speakers of the languages of study, and they use these languages as medium of teaching and assessment.

For the first time, English is therefore being challenged as the only language through which high-level concepts can be discussed, and through which academic research can be conducted. For the first time, Pacific languages will be taught in schools by teachers who are qualified to do so, rather than by fluent speakers who have been trained to teach other subjects. For the first time, USP students can gain credit for delivering oral presentations, written essays and creative pieces in their dominant language. Even for the students who do not choose to take up this option, or who do not yet have a language programme open to them, the possibility of studying a Pacific language at our university is becoming normalised.

Our aim in coming together to share our story is to lay out its complexity. If we are serious about the sustainability of these programmes, we need to engage with this complexity, and we need to keep talking about why all this matters. We need our leaders and our allies to understand that the actions we take at our university will impact the way the indigenous languages and cultures of this region are valued, used and transmitted to the next generations.

O tai ake puku kana e kai ei te atea

This Mangaian proverb captures the importance of working together to achieve a common cause. Atea is a deep ocean fish well known in Mangaia for its colour and taste. It is hard to catch but, if fishermen work together as a team, helping and sharing techniques, they will be successful.

The need to bring more Pacific languages and cultures into the USP curriculum has always been there, and minutes of Council meetings reveal traces of a discussion that has rumbled on since 2000 when the Pacific Vernacular Language programme was introduced with Fijian and Hindi as its first majors. But it was actually the launching of a completely different language programme that was to provide the catalyst for action. As Tricia Thompson recalls from a day in 2015,

It was a busy sunny Saturday morning market scene when I met Joan at the vegetable stall. Kia orana greetings were being called around us as she mentioned that she and Marjie had been to the launch of the Confucius Classroom at the USP campus in Rarotonga. Chinese language courses were now being offered, but where were the Cook Islands Māori language courses and our classroom to promote our indigenous language and culture? We decided to contact Marjie and do something about it. The Vice Chancellor of USP was visiting ‘on the island’ so he was our first person to lobby. Our journey of strategising, lobbying, begging favours, planning forays into unknown territory and seeking advice had begun.

The passion was there, and the need was clear. But how could a discussion in the market place be converted into real change? The Confucius Institute is backed by seemingly limitless resources. How could we compete on a level playing field at the strategic planning table? And yet, how could it be that we even had to ask permission to teach our own languages and cultures at our own university?

In March 2016, the Cook Islands Prime Minister happened to be chief guest at a book launch at the USP campus. The book was about Cook Islands art and architecture, and our guest spoke passionately about the need to value traditional heritage. The final speaker of the evening was Marjorie Crocombe, who lost no opportunity to bring that conversation from the market place to the attention of someone who could have some real influence:

I said: “Prime Minister, Minister of Education, we’re teaching Chinese. We’re two years into it. When are we going to teach our own language and culture?” He said, “Come to my office tomorrow morning”, which we did. We formed a group overnight, went to his office. The office worker said, “Oh we don’t have an appointment for you” and I said “we have an appointment with the prime minister. He said to come at 9 o’clock.” We sat down. The prime minister arrived and was very welcoming. We explained to him: “It’s not a problem. But it’s an issue we want to settle. We want to teach our language and culture at USP. They’re teaching Fijian and Hindi in Fiji. It’s time we did the same. We have the teaching of Chinese. We can’t take it anymore, and we want our language and culture.”

By happy coincidence, the Prime Minister was just about to assume the role of Chancellor of the university for one year. This is a rotating role, which passes between senior figures of each member country in turn, thereby only falling to the Cook Islands once every twelve years. We didn’t want to have to wait another twelve years.

So the committee enlisted the support of Vae Papatua, language advisor to the Ministry of Education, and Rod Dixon, USP campus director, along with Gail Townsend, Secretary of Education, who would be pivotal in joining the dots between the Cook Islands government and USP Council. With everything lined up in the Cook Islands, but paperwork needing to be completed on the other side of the dateline in Suva, seed funding was sought for Fiona Willans to fly over from the School of Language, Arts and Media to join the committee for a very intensive week of planning. We scribbled on whiteboards, drafted out learning outcomes, and discussed everything from the minutiae of macrons to lofty ideas about developing open access repositories of new texts in Cook Islands Māori.

Importantly, we also engaged with the financial model of the university, working out that a diploma of twelve courses would be ‘viable’ if we utilised the cohort model that the campus had already been using successfully for many years. By recruiting a cohort of 20 students, and ensuring that they all progressed through the programme at the same time, there would always be sufficient EFTS to justify (financially) hiring Sally Akevai Nicholas to deliver the language-specific courses as face-to-face summer schools in Rarotonga each year during her breaks from her university duties elsewhere. By combining these language-specific courses with general linguistics courses that are delivered through online mode during regular semesters, supported by Mary Salisbury travelling between islands on tutorial visits, no significant new costs were required. In the parlance of university administrators: the new programme made effective use of existing online offerings and allowed the country-specific courses to be 'bought in' on a user pay basis, making the programme more acceptable to the university. As USP approached its 50th anniversary, the introduction of the world’s first degree-level programme in Cook Islands Māori provided an appropriate re-statement of the university’s commitment to the region, and a model that others would be quick to follow. More importantly, it provided an inspirational demonstration from the region back to the university of what can be achieved through this approach:

The students have produced an abundance of resources in Cook Islands Māori in many genres and modalities. These range from very silly cartoons, to very serious linguistic analysis or political commentary. Most of this material can be found in their e-portfolios or on our YouTube channel. Of all the profoundly valuable outcomes of this programme so far, the most important one involves a shift in attitude towards our language. I was repeatedly told by students after the first course that they used to believe the story that our language was inferior to English, and that because of what they have now learnt, they no longer believe this colonial lie. And better still, because they are teachers, they will take this message back to their schools and classrooms and help to reclaim the narrative about the value of our Reo, which will in turn help our revitalisation efforts.

Sally Akevai Nicholas

Tākanga ‘etau fohe

This Tongan proverb captures the spirit of coming together in the vaka to paddle in unison towards our destination.

Buoyed by the success, thoughts quickly turned to other languages. We knew that similar sentiments were bubbling just below the surface in most of our member countries, and we relied on the fact that members of USP Council – leaders of the twelve countries – might have felt some discomfort about endorsing a new programme for the Cook Islands without pushing for similar moves for their own countries. Meanwhile the network of campus directors enabled word to spread at that level, and it didn’t take long to start serious conversations in both Tonga and Niue.

In Tonga, first of all, a small group gathered at the campus in late 2017 with the aim of developing learning outcomes for a programme in and about the Tongan language. Our starting assumption had been that there were plenty of fluent speakers of the language leaving high school, and there were also a number of Tongan linguists well-qualified to teach them. However, within minutes of the first meeting beginning, the question was posed: Do you think we could include the language of Niuafo‘ou as well as Tongan? After all, the campus director, Seu‘ula Johansson Fua was bringing more than campus directing experience to the meeting:

I first visited Niuafo‘ou and Niuatoputapu in 1999, to carry out fieldwork for my MA thesis. As often happens when you travel to these remote islands, you get stranded. I ended up spending several weeks on the island of Niuafo‘ou while waiting for the next flight. It was a magical two weeks of discovering a part of my country that I never knew about. I visited both islands again in subsequent years for various work. One of those pieces of work was the mapping of Tongan culture – which included Niuafo‘ou. It was out of this cultural mapping that we drew up the first National Cultural Policy for Tonga. In this policy, it was recognised that Niuafo‘ou is a language on its own and that Tonga has two languages – Niuafo‘ou and Tongan. The fieldwork for this particular project took ‘Ana Koloto, who was the campus director for Tonga campus at that time to Niuafo‘ou. When she returned, she began a rather revolutionary program to revive the Niuafo‘ou language – through poetry reading and singing competitions. What better way to mark USP’s 50^th anniversary in Tonga than starting a new programme in both Tongan and Niuafo‘ou? We decided this would be USP’s gift to Tonga and the people of Niuafo‘ou.

It was relatively easy to assemble possible writers for the Tongan part of the programme, but it was more challenging to identify qualified experts in the Niuafo‘ou language. In our collective history as Tongans, this language has faced much stigma and cultural discrimination. It is not taught in our schools, even for Niuafo‘ou children that are on the island. The language is facing a critical battle of survival, as it is now highly endangered. Our one ‘saving grace’ is Japanese linguist, Ahikisa Tsukamoto, who has dedicated his life of research to studying the Niuafo‘ou language, and is now able to assist with the design and delivery of our programme.

The programme is not without its challenges, as we try to meet university requirements for financing such projects as well as translating government pledges into actual funding. We also had to make some last-minute staffing changes, leaning on the expertise of Melenaite Taumoefolau from the University of Auckland:

It was something of a surprise for me when USP Tonga contacted me to stand in for Dr ‘Ana Maui Taufe‘ulungaki in introducing the first of the six-course programme on Tongan and Niuafo‘ouan languages. I have been teaching Tongan at the University of Auckland for well over twenty years now, and I had expected that a university that serves Pacific nations with their own indigenous languages would already be teaching those languages. I had the impression that the root cause of this lateness was a lack of funding.

I was excited. More so as our first goal at the Centre for Pacific Studies at the University of Auckland was to teach and research issues of concern and relevance to Pacific peoples both in the Island Pacific and the Pacific diaspora. I jumped at the thought of learning Niuafo‘ouan, especially as I have ancestral links with Niuafo‘ou on my late mother’s side.

On our first day of lectures I wanted to forge a connection with the class – both intellectually and emotionally, as we are wont to do as Tongans. So we read passages of Niuafo‘ouan from the book The Fire has Jumped: eye-witness accounts of the eruption and evacuation of Niuafo‘ou. The accounts had been gathered by the late anthropologist, Garth Rogers, with translations into English by helpers such as Thomas Riddle and Wendy Pond. As a result of this eruption, the government of the day and her Majesty Queen Sālote decided to move the entire population of Niuafo‘ou to resettle on safer grounds in parts of Tongatapu and ‘Eua. I fought back the tears as we read about the catastrophe that hit the island and the people’s description of their utter despair and confusion at having to leave the soils where their ancestors and kin were buried. It was a physical move; their spirit remained behind.

I wanted to first establish in the hearts of the students that Niuafo‘ouan – never mind Tongan for now – was more precious than gold. Niuafo‘ouan, like any other language, is a repository of history – a history of people and their world-views, their culture and their identities. At the end of the class I asked the students if perhaps they could lead us in singing a song from the book. A few songs were recorded in the book along with their translation into English. It so happened – I did not know at the time – that some of the students were singers. Two students from Niuafo‘ou led us in a song that simply tore at the heartstrings – again I struggled to keep back the tears as the lyrics unfolded and their unforgettable voices transported us to Niuafo‘ou in the days of the tin can mail. Prince Tungī had sent a party to Niuafo‘ou to bring the Maka Mapuhia (Whistling Rock) but the canoe that carried it capsized and the rock fell into the sea and was never seen again. Here is a translation of a verse from the song of the Whistling Rock:

Dear Ta‘akimoeaka, stay while I venture

Wandering on the high seas, languishing beyond the swell

Gulping the ocean rollers and their spray

Then on boat days at Futu you will think of me...

I vowed that I would teach the classes required of me even if there was no payment. I said to myself that perhaps this is why my knowledge was given to me by God – to use to help and serve our people so that we can start a process of restoring to their rightful places languages that are now endangered in our globalised world. Despite the late start, despite the seeming lack of funds, I know this is a worthwhile enterprise. My mind keeps going back to the Psalm 23 lines: The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want...

Unlike in the Cook Islands, we had scheduled the Tongan and Niuafo‘ou courses to run during regular semesters, since we had expertise available to teach locally. However, due to Melenaite stepping in from Auckland at the eleventh hour, we have had to apply USP’s longstanding flexible mindset to learning and teaching, combining a series of intensive face-to-face teaching weeks in Tonga with online components delivered by distance via Moodle. As we take just another step to restore the honour of the Niuafo‘ou people, the ‘tin-can mail’ of the island (the wharf at Futu on Niuafo‘ou is quite turbulent, so cargo ships dock out at sea while smaller canoes and boats transport goods to and from shore, with mail sealed inside a tin can) suddenly has a new platform.

The wave of change was also sweeping through neighbouring Niue, where the Minister of Social Services, Hon Billy Graham Talagi, was campaigning hard for the powers that be to endorse Niue’s first university qualification, the Certificate in Vagahau Niue. This long-overdue programme was an initiative of the Niue Language Commission led by Tifaole Ioane and fully supported by the Director-General for the Ministry of Social Services, Gaylene Tasmania, and Directors of Education, Birtha Lisimoni-Togahai, and Taoga Niue, Moira Enetama. Oue Tulu Tulou Ministers and USP Council as this will forever be the best legacy ever for our peoples:

Ko e fakamailoga kautū nei to eke ia mo koloa mahuiga ma e atuhau, ko e fakakiteaga to nakai aloalo mai e Vagahau Niue, ka e to kikila mo e moui olaola ke he taha hau mo e taha hau - Niue’s first university language qualification will be the utmost gift for the next generations, a symbol that Vagahau Niue will continue to thrive and sustained for the many future generations - Hon Billy Talagi

The programme is dedicated to all the Niue educators of yesterday; the pioneers who paved the way and nurtured the Vagahau Niue so you and I can have a language that we can take ownership with pride, our very own sovereign language, unique only to all Niue peoples, not just for us living on the motherland but for the many Niue peoples out there living around the world; the elderly, the middle-aged, the young, the yet-to-be-born; long may Vagahau Niue live. We remember the early pastors of LMS and now Ekalesia Kerisiano Niue, the late Malama Head, mother of Education, Vilisoni Kumitau, Leslie Rex, Isaako Togakilo, Togiafavale Viviani, Tapu Vaha, not forgetting Hafe Vilitama, Maihetoe Hekau, Mititaiagimene Young Vivian, Atapana Siakimotu, Maiutiva Togatule, Loseligipepe Siakimotu, Janet Sipeli Tasmania, Pitasoni Tanaki, Tifaole Ioane, Tom Misikea, Ben Tanaki, Kim Ray Vaha, Moira Enetama and many Niue peoples who continue to shine the torch of Vagahau Niue.

By the closing date for enrolments in January 2019, 15 students had signed up for Vagahau Niue 1. To put this in perspective, during the previous semester, there had only been 13 students registered at the USP Niue Campus in total! The overwhelming experience of going through the whole process of designing, writing and delivering the Vagahau Niue paper is surreal for the lecturers, Sifaole Ioane and Pitasoni Tanaki. It is unbelievable to read and listen to the students demonstrating their love and appreciation of Vagahau Niue, as they deliver their assessed oral presentations in class, give speeches at Niue International Women’s Day, and participate in the Fellowship of Christian Women, inspiring others across the island to enrol in our next intake. The domino effect is far reaching - the Niue High Commissioner to New Zealand is hoping to enrol by distance next year - and we look forward to more Niue peoples keen to learn and teach Vagahau Niue to the young generation.

Ko e tau hega a ē. We are the parakeets.

Na fakaako ke Vagahau Niue? You don’t learn Vagahau Niue?

This proverb was submitted by Ben Tanaki, USP alumni and performing arts choreographer, as part of our UNESCO International Mother Language Day proverbs competition. It means that healthy people usually feel proud of themselves, especially when the majority of the people in the village are unwell. The parakeet is a fine small bird with beautiful feathers and strong. It means that it is vital for the young and beautiful people to sustain our Vagahau Niue. Ko e kupu vagahau fakahula noa, hagaao ke he tagata tino hakahakau, mua atu he magaaho ka tatalu ai e tau tagata tokologa. Fakatai ke he manu lele ko e hega, ko e manu lele tino mahikihiki mo e fulufuluola e tau fulu. Ko lautolu haia kua malolō ke feaki mo e fakatumau e Vagahau Niue.

HE TAGALOA TILITILI, TAGALOA TELETELE, LELEKOLOMATA MONU TI TONU E TUI MO HONO ULUOLA MATANIKONIKO KATOA MO E LAFUKULA FUIFUIHEGA. A KE HIFO TATA LALOFONUA HE TAKELEAGA A MAUI, A KE HAKE KE PUIA A LAGI A HINA. TAGALOA TI MATA. Pui pui O, Motu-te-fua, Nuku-tulu-ea, Nuku-tutaha.

Hiạ‘ ‘ou rā heta ma hiạ‘ la fa‘

Keep pressing the branch until it breaks (Rotuman proverb)

Meanwhile, as the Cook Islands Prime Minister’s tenure as USP Chancellor was coming to an end, Fiji’s President Jioji Konrote, a Rotuman, stepped into the role. An opportune time to push forward the teaching of Rotuman, we convened a committee, consulted experts and community members, and proposed a minor of four courses, aimed at Rotumans with limited active proficiency in the language. An audience with the President of Fiji resulted in his assurance to see the proposal through, as well as a long intimate discussion on genealogy over club sandwiches and tea.

In the lead-up to the minor, we established ‘taster’ classes. These semi-formal social classes ran for ten weeks and attracted 30 learners, aged six to 50. The sight of Rotumans enthusiastically turning up Saturday after Saturday to (re-)learn the language and culture was enough to negate the invective from our own people. The social classes’ advertisement had gone to press with the diacritic used to represent the glottal stop inverted incorrectly – by Churchward standards; prescriptivists derided our spelling of fạiȧksia; and several elders saw it as only their prerogative to teach these classes. As course writers, we are also faced with the dilemma of not being inclusive, as there is a need to include regional and denominational variation; yet when we do, we are criticised for not maintaining a standard form of Rotuman.

Rotumans are deeply rooted in their religious beliefs and values. They believe that the language is a gift from God and will never die out as long as Rotumans are alive. So when creating awareness on Rotuman being endangered, we found this to be a tough pill to swallow for many. However, the reality is that this ‘gift’ needs to be nurtured in order to maintain its vitality.

The first credit course is currently being prepared for next semester. We are excited to be creating online resources for use on Moodle, particularly because we see technology as an actuation of language learning for youth. These projects are an investment in our youth, and by extension, the language and culture. We recognise that we cannot get everything right the first time, and so much has been lost. Therefore, there is no better time than now to ensure that our future generations are educated in the language and on it.

This incorporation of technology has been important for all the programmes. With so many Pacific islanders living outside their home countries, we recognise the need to extend the reach of our courses and offer flexible opportunities for diaspora communities, and we are also committed to using technology to create new resources in our languages, combatting the perception that English is the language of technology. USP has been a pioneer of distance and flexible learning since its earliest days, so we naturally turned to our Centre for Flexible Learning for guidance. Mojito Jione reflects here on his role as a Learning Experience Designer who had the chance to apply his technical skills in his own language for once:

When I read of UNESCO listing Rotuman in the endangered category as vulnerable, I found it hard to believe. I did not think that we would lose our language entirely. It became a great opportunity to work with Language staff in reviving some of our Pacific languages, including Rotuman. As someone who has embraced technology as a tool that enables you to do things, it was my hope that I could use it to enable the teaching of my own language. However, the challenges do not lie in the technology itself but in the teacher that chooses to embrace it as a teaching tool. My role as a Learning Experience Designer thus becomes important in mediating a design that considers the teachers’ and students’ experiences. Developing meaningful experiences in courses is always paramount. One of the basic things we did initially was to video record a simple conversation between two people introducing themselves in Rotuman. It took us about thirty minutes and the video was about two minutes long. All of this was done through my smartphone and uploaded onto Moodle after adding captions. We also recorded small audio snippets to be used in quizzes for students to match the audio to the correct character or word. There are many things that can be done with technology, but I always believe that you should keep things as simple as possible. This ensures that students will be learning more of the language rather than how to use the technology being used.

As a Rotuman who grew up in Suva, I see the importance of ensuring that these courses gain more interest. I do not need to look far, other than my own extended family in which many of my cousins do not speak the language fluently and would dodge any request to read a verse from the Rotuman bible in church. The need for these courses is great and the Rotuman community needs to stand by it. I am always grateful for the fact that even though I grew up here in Suva, my parents’ decision to send my sister and I back to the island when we were about four and six years old gave rise to us speaking the language fluently. Our language ties us to our culture and, if you do not speak your language, you are somewhat disconnected from your culture. I hope that our efforts will be enough to stir interest among our people, and our future generation will flourish in our culture.

Yumi save plante wok i stap, long ol aelan blong yumi

We know that a lot remains to be done in our islands (Vanuatu National Anthem)

Vanuatu is the most linguistically complex of USP’s member countries. Besides the post-colonial legacy of two introduced international languages, English and French, and the growing role and significance of Bislama, the English-based pidgin/creole lingua franca, there are very many small Oceanic vernaculars. Each language has its place in the life of the country, whether at the localised village level, or for national life, or for external interaction. Multilingualism at the individual level is widespread. However, with so many language players, the situation is somewhat unstable, and there are conflicting pressures and trends whose impact is difficult to measure. There are strong forces of cultural loyalty, along with factors of relative isolation, that see many of the vernacular languages remaining strong and healthy, and increasing in numbers of speakers. On the other hand, the task of nation building and fostering the development of a modern unified state gives special strength to Bislama, which is blossoming as a national language, and gaining first-language speakers as urbanised families with high levels of intermarriage shift away from the vernaculars. Significant attrition and loss of the vernaculars is a possibility for many languages in future generations. And then the impact of modernity and internationalisation gives special weight to English and French, but not evenly so, with the constant rivalry between these two languages - and those who have been educated in one or other stream of the dual-language school system - producing another underlying dynamic of the language scene and national politics.

At Independence in 1980, the issue of language in education was rather definitively decided by an enduring colonial perspective that only English and French could serve as languages of learning and education. However, winds of change began to blow from the early 2000s. There was a sense of pessimism about Vanuatu education, with every indicator showing poor levels of achievement, especially in basic literacy and numeracy, creating an awareness that something needed to be done. Understandings around language rights, post-colonial development, multi-language education and so on began to have an impact, and there was an increasing openness to thinking about what could or should be the role of Vanuatu languages and culture in education, and what education could do to support the development and maintenance of Vanuatu’s traditional heritage.

A huge advance has been made from around 2014 when a donor-funded education sector support programme incorporated the notion of early grade literacy and numeracy using the first language as the main language of instruction and language of learning. Under this programme, early grade learning materials were developed for over 50 languages. These developments represent the beginning of a whole new chapter in Vanuatu education, and early indications suggest a significant impact and improvement in student learning outcomes. However, such a major development presents all kinds of challenges in order for the changes to become established and sustainable, including the need for effective resources and well-trained teachers. Not all languages have fully analysed phonologies or established orthographies, and only a few have basic tools like primers, alphabet charts, decodable readers, or other literacy materials. The development of a USP programme in Vanuatu Language Studies responds to these needs, providing components in language documentation and analysis, resource development, pedagogical training for vernacular literacy, and an understanding of the principles of multilingual education.

Vanuatu perhaps needs this initiative more than any other USP country, given the urgent need for linguists and teachers who can work within this complex linguistic terrain, and support a truly national education system. However, there is currently very little buy-in at the highest levels, leaving enrolments in the new programme reliant on individual students recognising its professional and societal value. Until the qualification becomes incorporated into the professional development tracks recognised by the Ministry of Education, it appears that the national education system will remain dependent on the activities and decision making of donor partners.

And so back to the beginning.

Four years ago, local artist Joan Gragg had been browsing the vegetables at the local market in Rarotonga when she bumped into her friend Tricia. She had lamented the fact that Chinese was being taught on the island, with no sign of her own language or culture, and she then threw herself into lobbying for this to change. Fast forward to January 2018, and who did we see enrolling herself as a student on the first ever Cook Islands Māori summer school but Joan. A year later, Melenaite would find the Lord of the Estate on which USP Tonga Campus stands numbering amongst her new students while, over in Niue, the Hon Billy Graham Talagi, the Minister who had campaigned so hard for the programme to begin was also arriving for class - the only male amidst the fitipuas - and preparing for assessed oral presentations alongside his classmates. It is truly incredible to see what happens when you open the doors of the university and invite our languages in.

As each new programme has emerged, it has drawn on the strength of the previous efforts, but it has also brought new ideas forward for others to consider. Having paved the way for the others, the Cook Islands team are now reflecting on how to ensure that their own programme does not privilege the Rarotongan variety of Māori over all others, and whether the language of Pukapuka should be included, drawing on insights from the approach of the team from Tonga and Niuafo‘ou. Each language is unique and brings with it its own way of doing things, but our success has always been due to our ability to learn from one another.

By weaving together so many different parts of the same story here, we’ve tried to show the complexity involved in our ongoing journey. Simple institutional questions about staffing, financing or scheduling have led to creative solutions, while linguistic questions about orthographic conventions or metalinguistic terminology are now topics of vigorous debate in class. We have also tried to show the importance of high-level support from both inside and outside our institution. The deliberate seeking of support from newly appointed USP chancellors has not been a cynical move. These are leaders who command the respect of their own communities - as presidents and prime ministers - but who also sit at the highest level of our institution. They help us help USP to serve the region, as it has always set out to do. And we’ve also shown that the commitment from the community is personal. When we’ve asked for support, it’s usually been given. But when we see those same people turning up to class as students, we understand the strength of that support.

Our journey is not over. We have twelve member countries, sharing roughly 200 languages, and the voices are starting to be heard a little louder across the region, from Kiribati to Tuvalu to Tokelau. We dream of the day when the outcome of “Pacific consciousness” is truly embedded in the curriculum for all.

I feel uneasy about English's dominance in the world today. In the past I may have said that its dominance in the world was a good thing because it is used as a lingua franca between different people. As a Pacific islander and a student of language, I now feel that my answer to this question should be more nuanced. Superficially, one could say that I am at a big advantage because I have had access to opportunities that would not have been available to me had I not been as proficient in English but I believe that it is a disadvantage to have to be proficient using a secondary language in order to access opportunities automatically available to first language speakers.

Semi Arthur Naisau, undergraduate linguistics student from Fiji

Author biographies

1. Marjorie Crocombe, OBE, the first female Cook Islander to graduate from USP, is a former lecturer from the same institution, and a founding member of the Cook Islands Language and Culture Committee.

2. Rod Dixon is the former Campus Director of the USP Cook Islands Campus.

3. Robert Early is the Director of the Centre for Pacific Languages at USP, based at Emalus Campus, Vanuatu.

4. Wilfred Fimone works as a Student Learning Support specialist at USP Laucala Campus, Fiji, while completing his MA in Linguistics on sociolinguistic variation within Rotuman.

5. Rachel Fiu teaches English for Academic Purposes and conversational Rotuman classes at USP Laucala Campus, Fiji, and is currently completing a postgraduate diploma in Applied Linguistics and English Language Teaching.

6. Joan Gragg is a Cook Islands artist and one of the founding members of the Cook Islands Language and Culture Committee.

7. Tifaole Ioane is the Vagahau Niue Language Specialist for the Niue Department for Education and Chairperson of the Niue Language Commission.

8. Mojito Jione is a Learning Experience Designer at USP’s Centre for Flexible Learning, Laucala Campus, Fiji.

9. Seu‘ula Johansson-Fua is Director of the Institute of Education and Director of USP Tonga Campus.

10. Birtha Lisimoni-Togahai is Director of Education for Niue and Secretary-General for the Niue National Commission for UNESCO.

11. Anoano Lolohea is a final-year Linguistics student from Tonga, currently studying at USP Laucala Campus.

12. Sally Akevai Nicholas is a Lecturer in Linguistics at Massey University, Auckland.

13. Semi Arthur Naisau is a final-year Linguistics student from Fiji, studying at USP Laucala Campus.

14. Vae Papatua is the Cook Islands Māori language advisor (Secondary) to the Ministry of Education, and a member of the Cook Islands Language and Culture Committee.

15. Rosarine Rafai is a Teaching Assistant in Pacific Studies at USP Laucala Campus, Fiji.

16. Hendricks Taleo is working as a Research Assistant on a Bislama corpus at the Centre for Pacific Languages at USP, based at Emalus Campus, Vanuatu.

17. Melenaite Taumoefolau is Director of Pacific Language Studies at the University of Auckland.

18. Tricia Thompson, a founding member of the Cook Islands Language and Culture Committee, has worked in a range of education roles in the Pacific and beyond.

19. ‘Ana Heti Veikune is an Assistant Lecturer in English for Academic Purposes at USP Tonga Campus, and is currently working on her PhD in Tongan literacy socialisation practices.

20. Fiona Willans is the Coordinator for Linguistics & Languages at USP, based at Laucala Campus, Fiji.

[1] Corresponding author: Fiona Willans (University of the South Pacific, Laucala Campus) fiona.willans@usp.ac.fj