News Desk
In the Maldives, hospitality isn’t just a practice—it’s a way of life. For generations, islanders have welcomed strangers with open arms, offering them a place to stay, a meal to share, and sometimes, a new home.
It’s a tradition so deeply ingrained that introductions often come after the guest has settled in. No questions asked, no paperwork required—just the rhythm of island life embracing all who arrive. The palm-swaying island nation has long been a sanctuary for ocean-crossing travelers and those in distress after marooning their ships or getting caught in a storm.
Maldivian hospitality has stood the test of time, making the arduous ocean crossings from north to south or east to west a little easier.
This spirit of hospitality shaped the fate of a French family who arrived in the Maldives more than a decade ago. A couple and their children traveled across the atolls, moving from island to island, welcomed wherever they went. No one asked about their visas, their intentions, or even their faith.
They simply became part of the fabric of daily life, just as before them their countryman François Pyrard de Laval (1578 – 1623) a French navigator, who wrote on the Maldivian way of life.
“We heard about them when we visited R. Fainu,” said a former Human Rights Commission staffer who recalled their stay. “The husband wasn’t on the island at the time. When we wanted to speak with the wife, she kept to herself, and their eldest son was often out fishing.”
At that time, few gave their presence a second thought. It was just another example of the Maldives’ easygoing way. But times have changed.
Under the leadership of Home Minister Ali Ihusan and Immigration Controller Shamman Waheed, the government has cracked down on visa overstays and human trafficking. That’s when the family’s case came to light.
For 12 years, the French family had been living in the Maldives, originally arriving on tourist visas, later obtaining an employment visa, and eventually overstaying. Now, authorities are working to finalize their deportation, but bureaucratic delays persist as they await necessary paperwork from the French government.
The head of the family, who has converted to Islam, expressed his desire to obtain Maldivian citizenship. However, conversion alone does not qualify a person for citizenship in the Maldives. Immigration authorities, after interviewing him, found no evidence of persecution—only familial tensions back home, due to his religious conversion. Forced conversions are not practiced in the Maldives, and the concept of ‘love jihad,’ often sensationalized in South Asian political discourse, holds no ground in the country.
Over the years, the family moved across several islands—first to Gaafu Dhaalu Thinadhoo, where, in Huvadhoo, a curious linguistic link exists: locals refer to an envelope as ‘billedia,’ a variation of the French ‘billet-doux,’ meaning a love note. From there, they relocated to Laamu Atoll, then Thaa Thimarafushi, and finally, to Veymandoo, seeking refuge from religious extremism.Two of their children were born in the Maldives, in Veymandoo.
For them, the Maldives is home—perhaps the only hospitable home they’ve ever known. Their story is just one of many that reflect the island nation’s legendary hospitality, where a stranger can arrive as a guest and, in time, become family. But in an era of tightened immigration controls, even the most welcoming traditions face the hard realities of law and policy.
