get their

The Nauruans get their own bark

As Melbourne columnist John Stevens sees it, in the Melbourne Age.

How ironic, how wry that Mel bourne’s biggest building will be owned by the people of Nauru.

For 50 years the little Pacific island was exploited for its phos phate by the white colonialist master.

Now it is the Nauruan’s turn for a bit of exploitation. Their turn to run a colony.

Nauru House is the white octagonal building at the top end of Collins Street, the one that looks like a giant louvre screen.

Already it dominates the city’s eastern skyline and there are 15 storeys to go.

When it is finished in June next year it will house more Melbourne office workers than there are Nauruans.

It will represent a S4O million investment for the 3,470 islanders against the time, about 20 years hence, when the island is mined out.

Already they have a shipping line and an airline but these will be small beer compared with rental income from space for 5,000 occupants. It works out at 1.4 office workers for every Nauruan man , woman and child.

“You can see Rosebud from the top,” said a safety-helmeted repre

sentative of the managing agents, Bail lieu A lard.

“When it’s finished you will be able to take your binoculars to the roof and see how the surf is at Lome.”

Except that the top four floors will be occupied by the Nauruans themselves, the very highest being reserved for a suite for the island’s

president when in Melbourne, a palatial suite with 11-ft ceilings.

The buildings still standing be tween Nauru House and Collins Street will be bulldozed to form a plaza of nearly an acre.

This open space was a council plot-ratio condition but the mana gers say the owners will decorate and equip the plaza far beyond requirements.

For instance, a pool with a 3 ft waterfall will be built with lime stone pinnacles selected from the island. Do you get the impression that we colonialists are being patronised?

The Nauruans, I am told, are proud, shy people. It was not until independence in 1968 that they began to get rich, successive gene rations having seen the white man turn their island into a moonscape in his eagerness to enrich his pastures with their ancient bird dung.

It was hardly the fault of the Nauruans that they arrived with their money bags just in time for the rape of the top end of Collins Street.

But Nauru House grows like Jack’s beanstalk, each new storey rendering its surroundings churches, traffic, trees, people that much more insignificant.

Some might see the whole thing as Nauru’s revenge.

Reprinted by permission

President DeRoburt ... at the top in Melbourne.