At low tide, you can still see the wooden posts of our drowned village rising out of the sea.

That is all that remains of the island our ancestors built with their own hands - stone by stone, generation by generation. We are the people of Walande, saltwater people of Malaita Province, Solomon Islands. For over a century, we lived on that small artificial island. We raised our children there. We buried our elders there. The sea was our garden, our road, our life.

Then the sea turned against us.

We have already lost one home

King tides - the highest tides of the year, now higher than our grandparents ever saw — and intensifying storms tore through our village year after year. We did not give up easily. Every time the ocean smashed our stone walls, we rebuilt them. Every time it took a house, we raised another. But by the mid-2010s, there was simply no land left to stand on. Our island was gone. Completely submerged.

We did not wait for the world to save us. We carried what we could across the water and began again — a community-led relocation to 46 acres on the mainland, land where our ancestors held customary ties. With no heavy machinery and almost no outside money, we cleared the bush, cut footpaths by hand, and built a new village, together, as one family.

Our elders still weep for the island. But we made a promise to our children: we will not be forced to relocate yet again.

Now the sea has followed us here

The mainland coast beneath our new village is eroding fast. In 2021, we scraped together small local funds to build a temporary seawall from gabion baskets — wire cages packed with stones. It was all we could afford, and it bought us time.

That time has run out. The wire has rusted through. The wall is cracking apart, and the ocean is pouring through the gaps. Saltwater is flooding our lowlands, poisoning our coastal gardens and killing our swamp taro — the hardy root crop that feeds our families when nothing else grows.

We spent ten years rebuilding our lives from nothing. If the shoreline keeps collapsing, the homes we built with our bare hands will follow our island into the sea.

Our story premieres at the Venice Film Festival

This year, a documentary about Walande will be released at the Venice Film Festival. The film shows the world what we have already lost.

This campaign is how you help us write what comes next.

What your donation builds

We are raising critical resources to replace our failed defenses with a properly engineered, climate-resilient seawall — designed by professionals, built to last, protecting our village in three phases:

Phase What it funds Target:

Phase 1 — Engineering Qualified coastal engineers assess our shoreline and design a solution built for our coast, not a temporary patch

Phase 2 — Materials Durable, marine-grade materials to replace the rusted gabion wire

Phase 3 — Construction Shipping heavy materials to Walande and supporting our local construction teams, who will build the wall themselves

Whatever we raise, we will put to work in this order - so even partial funding delivers real protection, starting with the engineering assessment that everything else depends on.

Where the money goes - exactly

Funds are received by Keith Sanga, a Walande community member based in Australia, and transferred by bank wire to the Seawall Committee of the Walande Association in Honiara — our community body led by Walande's own leaders and elders.

100% of donations - after GoFundMe's standard transaction fees and bank transfer costs - go to the seawall project. We will document every transfer.

We will post regular updates, photos, and receipts directly to this page as the work progresses, from the first engineering visit to the last stone laid.

We rebuilt once. Help us make sure we never have to again.

We are a resilient people. We survived the loss of our island. We built a new home from nothing. But no community can hold back the ocean with rusted wire and bare hands.

Please donate what you can and share this campaign — especially if our film moved you. Every contribution, and every share, helps us hold our ground against the rising tide.

Tagio tumas — thank you very much — for your solidarity.

— The people of Walande, and the Walande Association in Honiara