DESTINASIAN.COM – AUGUST / SEPTEMBER 2019
rising sea levels unlikely to abate, the environmental future of its
island communities is clearly precarious. Even more rapid than
the impact of a changing climate has been the pace of changing
lifestyles since the introduction of tourism. The expanding resort
economy, accompanied by a decline in fishing, has seen a third
of all Maldivians crowd into Male, searching for greater access to
jobs, higher education, and tertiary medical care, which are mostly
unavailable in the atolls. With this powerful tide of environmen-
tal push and economic pull, even the introduction of mid-market
guesthouses on local islands may not be enough to stop the erosion
of island communities, the majority of which are inhabited by less
than a thousand people. The overall aim with Two Thousand Isles,
therefore, is to gather their stories while it’s still possible.THE TAGLINE FOR OUR BLOG—(Re)Discovering the Maldives—
reflects the fact that much of what we see is familiar to Naj, but
almost always new to me, combining an insider’s eye with an out-
sider’s curiosity. Traveling in these islands is a privilege few foreign-
ers have ever had. In fact, until they were first accurately charted
in the 1830s and cleared of the dreaded “Maldive fever” (malaria)
in the 1960s, the islands’ inherent dangers were thought to far out-
weigh the scant economic opportunities. The legacy of this beautiful
isolation today is a well-preserved local culture, about which very
little has ever been written, and almost none of it photographed.
Our explorations began close to home, with Addu’s relatively rich
history providing fertile ground amid the graves of banished sultans
and ancient saints, the mythical remnants of an island fortress, and
the secrets of the wartime years. With each story we uncovered, weon counting each and every island, from Addu upward.
Despite being home to just 20,000 people spread across five
inhabited islands, Addu is the largest population center outside
of Male. Four of the islands are connected by a 14-kilometer-long
link road—it’s one of the longest paved causeways in the country—
while the closest neighbors to the south are the American soldiers
stationed on Diego Garcia, 800 kilometers away. This extreme isola-
tion was considered a bonus by British forces during World War II
(the Maldives had been a British protectorate since the 1880s), who
liked it so much the Royal Air Force returned for another two de-
cades in 1957, granting the islands full independence in 1965 as part
of the deal.
By 1971, the “discovery” of the idyllic atolls by an Italian travel
agent had given the country a vital alternative income to fishing
(and British lease payments). Unlike Addu, however, the smaller
and untouched communities elsewhere in the archipelago weren’t
ready for a foreign invasion, and unauthorized travel to so-called
“local” islands was soon prohibited. It wasn’t until 2010 that guest-
houses situated within island villages were made legal once more,
and the whole country was suddenly opened up to the world for the
first time. With travel throughout the archipelago now theoretically
possible for anyone, it was our hope that Two Thousand Isles might
provide insight and context for travelers journeying into these un-
known environs. But our plans weren’t only about tourism.
Those who don’t immediately think of luxury resorts when they
hear the name Maldives will probably think about climate change.
The country is famously one of the lowest-lying on the planet, at
an average of just 2.4 meters above sea level, and with the threat of