Every life has moments of mundanity, and I’m sure there are times when Pete Malorey eats the same meal on repeat for a week. However, it’s hard not to recognise how wildly unordinary his everyday life is. Conducting marine biology research has taken him far and wide, adopting a lifestyle and encountering species the rest of us could only dream of. From spending stints with the fastest sharks in the ocean, to learning how to perform surgery on critically endangered species, Pete’s life couldn’t be further from your average nine-to-five.
Between extended marine biology projects in Cyprus, Pete spent a lot of time travelling Fiji. It was a place that stole his heart almost immediately: “I instantly fell in love with the people here because they’re super friendly,” he explained, “and of course, it’s Fiji. The ocean here is beautiful.” His time hopping between islands broadened his mindset and outlook on life. “I made lots of friends here,” he said. “It allowed me to see other perspectives on the world.”
It was through speaking to these friends that Pete discovered the focus of his PhD research. A remote community was struggling with potential fisheries declines and their future livelihoods. “We’d had lots of conversations about fisheries – they were worried that unsustainable fishing methods and climate change were behind the declines.” It was the locals’ need for hands-on research that drew Pete to the project: “I could’ve taken a logistically easier PhD from somewhere less remote,” he reflected. “But I’d so much rather spend four years of my life doing research that is meaningful.” The aim is to find a way to maintain the populations within subsistence fisheries in the area, which locals heavily rely on for food.
Pete’s approach is ecosystem-based, meaning that instead of trying to protect a specific species, he’s monitoring the entire reef. Whilst in the short term this is much more complex, in the long run it will produce the most effective results for the Fijian people. Through collecting tissue samples, scuba diving, analysing reproduction rates and collecting community questionnaires, Pete is gradually figuring out the populations and productivity of the reefs in the area. The aim is to ensure that what’s taken out doesn’t outweigh natural regeneration rates. “It’s all about balancing the needs of people right now, with the needs of future generations,” he said.
The social implications stretch further than balancing intergenerational needs. Around 10% of fishers in Fiji are reportedly female, although the actual figure is likely higher – a hot topic amongst the local community. “There’s a huge movement here revolving around female empowerment, in part, related to fishing,” Pete noted. Women typically rely on the inshore reefs to catch food for their families, which are impacted to a greater extent than the fisheries further out due to their proximity to human settlements.
The reaction to the project among the community has been overwhelmingly positive, even at the initial stages. Pete’s always prioritised collaboration with the Fijian people, seeing this as essential to the long-term success of the project: “It’s been proven time and time again that you have to include the community in the work – it’s pointless and immoral not to.” Before he could start his research, Pete sought approval from the Vanua – a body of chiefs representing the collection of villages across the cluster of islands. “It was obvious I was coming from a genuine perspective of wanting to help the people and the ocean,” Pete recalled, “they respected it, and were quick to give permission.”
It’s a big task to take on alone, and Pete is the only PhD student in the area. “I’d love to bring a masters student with me so that they can collect their own data alongside the project,” Pete explained. “As long as it’s relevant to the local community in some way.” It would open up doors for him in terms of facilitating his research, ensuring he has a partner to keep him safe during dangerous boat trips. “To do it alone would be irresponsible,” Pete said. “I’d never go out that far and for that long without someone with me.”
It’s fair to say that the environment Pete is living in is not for the faint of heart. “There’s very little here,” he explained. “No formal shops, no roads, no cars.” When people want to travel between villages, they either walk, ride horses bareback through the jungle, or pitch in money for fuel to take a small fibreglass boat around the coast. The latter is Pete’s preferred method of transport, to avoid the wrath of the many mosquito species that thrive inland twenty-four seven. “There are different diseases depending on which ones you get bitten by, and I recently just recovered from dengue fever.” Pete laughed: “It was difficult to tell the difference between the effects of the disease and the heatstroke I gave myself out of negligence, but I was bedridden for a week. Dengue fever sucks.”
Amidst the trials, it’s ultimately the support of the Fijian people that keeps Pete going. “It’s a very, very friendly place,” he said, “especially within the iTaukei – the indigenous Fijian – community. The more remote you go, the friendlier the people become.” He told me about a recent trip he took with a friend to visit their mum on one of these remote islands. There wasn’t enough room for three beds inside the house, so she took it upon herself to sleep outside for the six weeks they were there. “It sounds like we put her out,” he laughed, “but she was having none of it. There was no way she was ever going to let us sleep outside.”
It’s the kind of hospitality that characterises the community in which Pete is undertaking his project. “I’ve been to places where they are pretty hostile towards outsiders who want to live there and do research,” he said. “If there’s one message I want to communicate, it’s the overwhelmingly accepting and friendly nature of the people here.”
