When Ms Samson speaks about her work, she does not begin with policy. She begins with memories of volcanic ash falling from the sky and cyclone winds tearing through communities. These moments revealed a hard truth: in Vanuatu, survival is not enough. Children need protection that works.

At present, that system, including health services, police, social welfare, and the laws meant to connect them, remains fragile.

Through Samson’s work, a hidden reality becomes clear. Child neglect is the most reported issue in SANMA. Yet neglect is not limited to homes. It also exists within the systems meant to protect children. Without the Child Protection Bill, Samson works in a legal vacuum where responsibility is unclear and accountability is weak.

She describes her role as “a canoe trying to navigate the open sea without an outrigger.” In the islands, the meaning is clear. Without an outrigger, even the strongest paddler will capsize when the sea turns rough.

On the ground, the consequences are immediate and severe.

There is the “Wednesday barrier,” where a child must wait days for a medical examination, risking both evidence and dignity. There is the case of a five year old beaten at home, where police walked away due to the father’s standing. There is the 15-year-old girl denied the chance to give a statement because an officer believed she “knew what she was doing.”

“These children are small human beings,” Samson says. “They cannot handle everything. Instead of blaming them, we need to walk closely with them.” That work, walking closely with children, is becoming harder each day.

Samson travels long distances by boat to reach communities in northwest Santo, responding to high-risk cases with limited support. At times, even basic tools such as a functioning printer are not available. More concerning, she works without legal protection.

“We are just walking, but we do not know when we are going to fall,” she says. “I am risking my life with these serious cases because there is nothing in place to protect me while I am in the field.”

Despite these challenges, her focus remains on the child before her.

Her work is often misunderstood as simply talking about rights. For her, rights are practical. They are about whether a child is safe.

“My job is to advocate for the best interests and welfare of the child, to make sure they are safe and protected.”

Sometimes, that advocacy begins on the floor.

“I introduce myself, be friendly, and tell them I am here to help,” she says. “Sometimes I ask what they did yesterday. We laugh together. After a while, they start smiling. They begin to talk even when I do not ask anything.”

It is in these moments that trust begins.

That trust is broken each time the system fails to respond.

The Child Protection Bill is the outrigger this canoe needs. It would provide a clear legal framework, define responsibilities across agencies, and ensure that when a child finds the courage to speak, action follows.

For families in SANMA, this law is not a luxury. It is the difference between a child finding justice or slipping through the cracks of a system not strong enough to hold them.

SOURCE: VANUATU DAILY POST