Back in the 90s Nauru was still flush with the cash the UK/NZ/Oz had given it to compensate for turning it into a cratered wasteland. They didn't know what to spend it on, they put a fucking big golf course on the island, and they even invested in a musical in London based on the life of Da Vinci, it tanked.
Then a former weightlifter became President, and decided to promote the sport. He got Australia's Paul Coffa to come along, gave him an old church hall, half a dozen platforms and barbells and so on, and they put out the word that everyone should come and try it out.
So literally hundreds of people came along and tried it out. And being Polynesian, they like to eat - there's not much anorexia in the Pacific islands. And they spend a lot of time outdoors. Get hundreds of people to try lifting, some will happen to be good at it; get hundreds of big people with nothing else to do to try it, and some will be very good.
The fast flexible ones become weightlifters, the slow stiff ones become powerlifters.
Meanwhile in weightlifting in Australia, a few years back they had a Pacific championships down at Hawthorn WL club, I found a couple of islanders snatching in my shitty globogym in Kew, I asked why they were there rather than at the club, "they couldn't get anyone to open the door for us." You're hosting an international competition and you can't get someone to open the door for the international visitors. And then for the recent Olympics they passed over a bunch of good women lifters so they could send a Crossfitter who was going to the Crossfit world games three weeks before. "It'll bring a lot of Crossfitters into the sport!" they said; of course it didn't, it just drove a lot of current weightlifters out.
And this is how ten square miles of birdshit in the Pacific is better than a first world nation of 24 million people in weightlifting. They encourage everyone to give it a go, and tell them to eat; we discourage people from trying, and tell them to starve themselves.