Arriving at Bureta Airport on Ovalau can feel like stepping into a relic of the past, akin to an airfield left to decay since the Cold War, as reported in an article from The Fiji Times in May 1996. The airport, with its barriers of crumbling barbed wire tangled in overgrowth, reflects a state of abandonment. Surrounding vegetation runs wild, and the absence of control tower lights raises alarming concerns, especially for nighttime flights.
Bureta Airport is devoid of essential services like electricity and a reliable communication link to the wider nation. It operates with minimal staff, including three firefighters and one Civil Aviation Authority of Fiji representative from adjoining villages. If a flight is delayed or canceled, passengers are left stranded, often forced to stay overnight on the island until they can travel the next day.
The airport’s dilapidated condition has been a recurring theme in district and provincial meetings over the years. A local villager expressed frustration about the lack of governmental response, stating, “Numerous attempts have been made to highlight the problems facing the airport, but there has been no positive response,” suggesting that only a significant mishap might prompt action.
Residents expressed concern that the government had neglected what they viewed as a critical issue for tourism. The airport serves as a gateway, yet the journey to Levuka town offers its own set of challenges, with the only road connecting the island’s 23 villages fraught with large potholes, creating an uncomfortable ride for all.
Historically, Levuka was a bustling trading center in the 18th century and has retained much of its architectural heritage, despite its decline in prominence after the capital was moved to Suva in 1881. Its historical significance is embodied in several enduring structures along Beach Street, though modern developments, like the Ports Authority of Fiji complex, have begun to reshape the landscape.
The once-thriving economy saw a rebound with the establishment of the Pacific Fishing Company (PAFCO) in 1964, employing hundreds and bolstering local businesses that depended on its workforce. However, concerns linger about the future of PAFCO, with local taxi drivers fearing for their livelihoods should it close.
“Taxi businesses will survive if PAFCO remains open. If it closes, then we will suffer,” shared an anxious taxi driver, highlighting the interconnectedness of the economy and local job security.
Conversely, some in the business community feel that preserving the historic buildings of Levuka hampers progress and development, leading to uncertainty about the town’s future. Many villagers lamented their struggles to sell their goods at the market, often returning home with unsold produce, further exacerbated by efforts to preserve the town’s heritage.
Adilevu Kesaia, a grandmother from Nukutocia, voiced a common sentiment of despair: “We have lost hope. We don’t know what to do because most workers are planting their own food.” This angst reflects a broader desire for government assistance that has yet to materialize, leaving the residents of Ovalau in a state of anxious anticipation for meaningful support and revitalization efforts to safeguard both their way of life and their islands’ historical significance.
Despite these challenges, the resilience of the islanders shines through as they await revitalization efforts that may one day breathe new life into their beloved Levuka and Bureta Airport.
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