Forever beautiful
It can be heard as a whisper on the Coconut Wireless: “The Chinese are coming…” On an island that measures 32 kilometres in circumference with a permanent population of some 15,000, rumours complete a lap of Rarotonga faster than you can drive around it, transmitted via tongues and ears, the island’s own special form of rapid wireless communication. And the drama and mythos behind this particular whisper is such that it has taken on legendary status and will no doubt continue to circulate, literally, and morph with each passing mention for many years to come.
“The Chinese are coming…” I hear it; somewhere in my subconscious as I gaze out of a car window at Rarotonga’s green, knife-like mountain peaks, en route to our accommodation.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, snapping to.
