Charting Their Own Course

Related BCNet Links

• Dive Tourism off the Reefs of the Padaido Islands, Irian Jaya
  

Author: Nancy Baron

Forward by BCN's Director Bernd Cordes

In late 1998, BCN asked Nancy Baron, a Canadian writer and naturalist, to visit Biak and the Padaido Islands where, for the past several years, Yayasans Rumsram and Hualopu have been working with local communities to manage and conserve marine resources. We asked Nancy to talk with people, write down her observations, and highlight the interesting work and lessons learned -- basically, to "tell the story." Why this project? Because the communities took it upon themselves to impose a ban on the use of cyanide, bombs and small-mesh gill nets; because community members were trained and are now monitoring their own resources; because Wundi villagers saw the results of the monitoring, realized their reefs were almost 100% destroyed or dead, and initiated a coral reef transplanting experiment; because Saba villagers simply chose to claim de facto (if not fully legal) management over an entire beachfront despite opposition from politically influential hotel interests; because Saba villagers, realizing that university researchers (funded by the Indonesian government) placed 65 cinder blocks/transects on "their" reefs and that the coral under the blocks was dying, chose to destroy the transects, angering the researchers but, at the same time, strongly staking Saba's claim as steward's of the resources; because the commitment and hard work has lasted through a great deal of adversity; and, quite honestly, because the people on the project are some of my favorite colleagues to work with. Below is what Nancy heard, saw and learned. Of course, being that the communities are developing the Padaido Islands for small-scale dive tourism, we encourage everyone to go there and get a first hand experience of the reefs, the people and the conditions. But for those who cannot, read on......

Charting Their Own Course

To the coastal communities of Biak and the Padaido Islands in Irian Jaya, the oceans are everything. The sea dictates if people eat or go hungry; if they can travel or must stay put. Not long ago, villagers moved from a subsistence lifestyle into a cash economy. Now, by selling fish and invertebrates to outsiders, community members can buy those things the sea doesn't directly provide. But over the years, destructive fishing practices such as reef bombing, cyanide use, and small-mesh gill nets, have crumbled the reefs' ability to support life -- including the long-term livelihoods of a growing island population.

Despite disasters and unexpected events, community-led efforts have begun to turn this situation around. The communities are steering a course towards conservation -- albeit not really by the route that was anticipated.

Background

The Padaido Islands is one of twenty community-based projects BCN supports in the Asia-Pacific region. By linking an enterprise to conservation, it was thought that the downwards slide of environmental destruction caused by reef-bombing and cyanide poisoning could be reversed. Given the islands' world class snorkeling and diving potential, a community-owned marine ecotourism business and its spin offs seemed like a natural way to develop alternative sources of income. Not only could it take some of the pressure off the fisheries (for many households the only source of cash income) but, done right, it could demonstrate how coral reef conservation and business development could be compatible.

In fact, a trickle of visitors had been coming to the Padaido Islands for several years, so the community built one small cottage on Dawi Island to accommodate them. The idea was to gradually build on this modest start.

Or so argued Yayasan Rumsram (a local community development group based in Biak) and Yayasan Hualopu (their academic and conservation-oriented counterpart based in Ambon.) Together, these two NGO's hatched a plan which they hoped would help the communities achieve their own goals for a better life and, at the same time, preserve the extraordinary richness of the reefs.

As Jeffry Marien, the Director of Rumsram, states, "If you want to do conservation here you have to think about incentives. Like it or not, people will never take care of the coral reefs if they can't eat. The community needs assistance badly to face and compete with people from outside who have more experience and expertise... Rumsram won't be here forever. You have to gradually transfer assistance. The challenge is how to make the community self-sufficient."

Rumsram's and Hualopu's strategy was to make community awareness the foundation on which to build all other project activities; that is, to help people see very clearly the importance of sustainably managing and conserving the reefs on which their livelihoods depend. Ecology lessons explained the impact of bombing and cyanide on the fisheries and paved the way for the communities' acceptance of other fishing technologies, such as smaller-meshed fishing nets and rumpons (floating Fish Aggregating Devices that attract pelagic fishes), as alternatives to always fishing the reefs. The communities' concern for their failing fisheries -- which they recognized but didn't really know how to address -- spurred their interest in keeping watch over the threats to their future. With assistance, they began monitoring the results of their interventions and the ecosystem's recovery. Enterprise activities included building boats and small cottages to accommodate divers and sight-seers, managing a day use beach with user fees, establishing community tourism management boards, teaching financial skills, strengthening the role of women in resource-use decision making, and expanding a savings cooperative that was started in the early 1990s with Rumsram and UNDP assistance.

But time after time, the communities encountered unexpected, external challenges: first a tsunami, then the Indonesian economic crisis and the cancellation of flights connecting Biak to the rest of the country and world, the development of a large resort hotel on community lands, and ever increasing pressures from industrial fisheries.

Indonesia is experiencing a tumultuous time. No one could ever have anticipated the twists and turns this project has taken -- economically, politically and ecologically. Nonetheless, in terms of community-led conservation, this has been one of BCN's most successful projects. In the final analysis, the most important result of this project is not the development of a self-sustaining ecotourism enterprise, but the communities' decision to apply the skills they've learned to what has emerged as their most urgent need -- to establish tenure over their land, reefs and fisheries and, in turn, to try to conserve these resources for the future by applying new skills and information.

An Explosive History

The Padaido Islands are made of sea creatures, squeezed by the weight of time and ocean into limestone. Over the eons, chunks of shattered sea bottom rose from the water to be carpeted by trees and festooned with vines and mangroves. The flatter white sand islands are made of coral, slowly ground down by waves and the crushing jaws of millions of coral-eating fish. Below the sea's surface, the islands are encircled by some of the world's most exquisite reefs. Like thriving underwater cities, these corals support a teeming variety of fish and invertebrates, themselves in turn food for larger sea-going fish.

Yet increased competition for marine resources between locals and outsiders has led to the deadly but expedient practice of using explosives and cyanide to harvest fish. The history of bombing in the area goes back a long way. The reefs around Wundi Island are a distressing sight -- a colorless, underwater graveyard of broken and bleached coral. During WWII, military activities took their toll. Wundi, an American base, became both a target and a testing ground. Bombs exploded on land and in the sea, a seemingly strange paradox in this paradisical setting. In 1945, when troops pulled out, they dumped their left-over ammunitions into Wundi's lagoon, where they lay for many years, undisturbed but for the slowly encrusting sea life.

This WWII history is, actually, an important tourist draw for Japanese, Dutch and American visitors. Old, rusting WWII material is everywhere in evidence on Wundi

In the '60's, migrants from the islands of Sulawesi and Madura started fishing the Padaido Islands. They imported a new technology. Instead of nets, they tossed bombs. Stunned by the underwater explosion, fish float to the surface where they can be easily gathered. Local fishermen watched this new style of fishing and worried -- but not about the damage being done. Given the abundance of fish and reef around them, it never occurred to them that they could sabotage themselves. Rather, they worried that they were being left behind by this highly efficient form of extraction. Local fishermen had no money to buy dynamite, but it dawned on them that they had a free source of explosives - the undetonated bombs left behind from the war. So they devised their own technology. Using jerry-rigged goggles made of glass and elastics, they searched the lagoon and sea bottom for the unexploded 100 kg bombs. Once one was located, they attached ropes to it and, using motorized outriggers, hauled the explosive onto shore. There they sawed them open and gingerly filched the gunpowder. Beer bottles made bombs that could send a stunning wave 500 square meters. Cored out papayas were also effective grenades.

Sefnat Rumbiak, a fisherman and resident of nearby Pasi Island, recalls, "From '64 to '69, I spent time learning how to make bombs without killing myself. Then in 1970 I started using them." The bombing went on for years - by outsiders and locals alike. Gradually the fishers noticed that there was no longer as many fish. They blamed the dwindling resources on the fact that, because of the bombs, "the fish were smarter, or more afraid and harder to catch." But older fishers could remember, prior to the 60's "when fish were larger and more plentiful - as well as more stupid."

Wundi is just one of the 30 plus islands that make up the Padaido chain. The Padaidos are located off the southeast coast of larger Biak Island. This project's work is focused on Saba and Opiaref villages on the southeast coast of Biak, and Wundi, Dawi, and Pasi islands in Upper Padaido.

 

Rumsram Surfaces

In the late '80's, Rumsram was a fledgling NGO formed of local people. Many of the members were friends from school who became colleagues with a shared vision to help their communities develop. Jeffry Marien, a member of this founding group and now the Director of Rumsram, remembers a visit by World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) staff, who came to the islands with brochures about coral reef conservation. Jeffry sat in a boat while the WWF folks went into the water and surveyed the local reefs. "I didn't know how to use a snorkel then...They came up from the water and said most of the coral was dead. At the time, I didn't know why."

 

Threats

Pressures...from Inside and Out

"We thought that reefs were reefs and fish were fish," recalls Jeffry. "We didn't understand the connections -- that little fish feed on the coral reefs and bigger fish eat the little fish." The WWF people explained the connections between reef bombing, dying reefs and diminishing fish stocks to the Rumsram team. The implications for the future hit home hard. Bombing was destroying the fishes' food source and, therefore, the peoples' as well. But by then it was such a widespread practice, the prospect of stopping it was daunting.

By the early 1990's, the Government of Indonesia was flagrantly issuing industrial fishing licenses to other islanders and countries "and local people had no recourse to deal with the fishers from Sulawesi, Madura, and the Buginese," says Jeffry Marien. "The outsiders used non-environmentally friendly gear and, of course, bombs. The result was an escalation -- like an arms race."

The Tsunami

Human-induced pressures are not the only ones impacting the island ecosystems. Local people refer to time as B.T. and A.T -- Before the Tsunami and After the Tsunami. Every islander remembers what he or she was doing at 2 p.m., February 17, 1996. Yulianus Wongor, 49, was salting fish in his beach cottage on Dawi Island. "Suddenly everything started shaking" he recalls, "I felt dizzy. Then my house started crumbling around me." He shouted at his daughters, aged 9 and 15, to get outside. Before following them, he tried to put his salt fish safely in a basket, but water surged through the door, filling the hut, and his morning's catch sailed away. As he thrashed after it, he looked seaward just in time to see a giant swell engulf nearby Runi Island. In the moments that followed the 7.8 scale earthquake and the tsunami it triggered, many locals lost their lives. Those that survived lost their homes, their livelihoods and any sense of security.

The earthquake's epicenter was located just 60 kilometers southeast of the Padaido Islands. Reports said the tsunami's wave reached southern Japan.

The great wave scoured the seas of fish and invertebrates, shattered and flipped massive sections of coral reef, washed the town of Saba off its foundations, and swept away most physical traces of the ecotourism and conservation project that had been developed in the last year -- offices, boats, guest cottages, snorkeling equipment and the local co-operatives' shops. One structure was left standing -- the original cottage built on Dawi before BCN funding started. Later, people said they found a Bible under the cottage, explaining why it wasn't destroyed.

Immediately following the earthquake, the catches of demersal fish and reef fishes dropped by almost half. Many of the islands' wells were ruined with salt water, although conversely the soil became more fertile. Besides the destruction of homes and fishing equipment, illnesses due to rotting carcasses and disease-bearing mosquito populations plagued the people. Traumatized, the people were uneasy about staying on the small offshore islands, like Dawi, which are the destinations for the ecotourists. The women have shifted from collecting shellfish on the offshore islands to producing coconut oil for income because they feel safer closer to home. (This, in fact, is helping the shellfish stocks recover and has been good for the coral, since a sort of crowbar is often used to get at the shellfish underneath.)

Fatal Harvest

In 1993, cyanide use began -- a cruel technology that causes slow death to the prism-colored reef fish, and lasting damage to the reefs on which they depend. Squirted from a bottle, the sodium cyanide stuns fish, which allows them to be collected for the Aquarium trade. Although the fish appear to recover, their digestive tracts are forever ruined, causing death by starvation. Still, the fish survive long enough (often three to six weeks) to be shipped to North America where they are sold to tropical fish enthusiasts. Inexplicably to the aquarist, the newly acquired fish soon dies.

When the cyanide fishery was at its peak, a Biak-to-Honolulu-to-Los Angeles flight facilitated capturing and shipping cyanide-caught fish to unsuspecting tropical fish buyers. This problem was remedied on its own when all international flights through Biak were canceled in 1995, making live fish export impossible. Now, however, cyanide is sometimes used to force lobsters out of their hiding places.

Fish Without a Future Using cyanide to catch fish for the aquarium trade (and live food fish too) is frighteningly prevalent in coral reef environments because it is far easier than trying to net-catch them. Conservationists are struggling to address this problem by educating aquarium hobbyists to buy only fish that are certified as being net-caught, and to be willing to pay a little more for the trouble and skill it takes to catch them this way. Conservationists are also trying to develop user friendly cyanide detection kits so that customs officers and buyers can easily test whether the fish have been poisoned.

 

The Giant on the Doorstep

Currently, most of the tourism in the area is centered on the five-star Biak Beach Hotel. This sprawling hotel was built using government funds and financial backing from Jakarta at a time when the Garuda flight still connected Biak with Bali, Honolulu and L.A. The idea was to make this sleepy tropical paradise a destination stop-over for adventurous scuba divers and snorkellers.

The hotel convinced the Saba villagers to sell their land. Although the residents asked for Rp1000 per meter, the hotel compensated the land owners with a pittance -- Rp400 per square meter (worth sixty cents at the time). The hotel said the community would be 'share-holders' and promised employment in exchange for land. In September '98 the number of locals employed was 16 from Saba, 18 from Opiaref and 62 from Biak, all of which were in low paying jobs. Assistant housekeeper is the highest position a local Irianese has attained.

With the economic crisis and the devaluation of the rupiah, the hotel is limping along with a 10% occupancy rate. The people that would be attracted to the hotel are not likely the same types who would stay in the charming but rustic Padaidos cabins. Hence there is not direct competition for clientele. But there is competition for the reefs themselves as a key tourist attraction.

In the eyes of people from Saba, the Biak Beach Hotel is a squatter on their land. The hotel's clients dive on their reefs without permission. After the village was washed away, the community members moved inland and uphill to rebuild. Seeing this beachfront "empty," the hotel began thinking about expanding and setting up an exclusive-use marina where the reef currently exists, because, they argued, the area was no longer being used. Like a giant on the doorstep, the hotel demands more and more to be satisfied.

 

Tenure: The Turning Point

Land and marine resource ownership in Irian Jaya is historically clan-based. But when Indonesia took over Irian Jaya in the late 60's, the Jakarta government declared that all land belonged to the state by law.

The traditional community-based system of marine resource management called sasi forbids the use of specific resources for a designated period of time in order to allow them to recover. Policed by village groups, sasi remains strong in some areas, but is almost nonexistent in others. These community-based systems are eroding as traditional governance disintegrates under pressures from population increases, central government regulations, modernization of a cash economy and encroachment by fishers from other areas.

The village chief, who is elected by the communities for an eight-year period, is the highest local leader. Decisions on land and sea ownership are based on the results of meetings between village heads and church leaders. But the village chief does not have the authority to give sea and land concessions to communities outside the village. This is the right of clans. The role of final decision-making on appropriate penalties for rule violations has been taken up by the church.

The Padaido Island communities have agreements among themselves regarding boundaries for community fishing grounds and fishers' right of access to areas claimed by their community. Still, conflicts arise.

Local community boundaries are not formally recognized by higher levels of government, nor do those boundaries necessarily provide protection from outsiders. The Indonesian government acts on its own self appointed authority, sometimes compensating community members, sometimes not. So, while the communities have full, day-to-day access to resources, they still do not have the recognition from the government that would give them "legal" control or title.

As one example, though no one has ever talked directly to the islanders about it, the government has plans to form a marine reserve around the Padaidos for diving and snorkeling. At present, the marine sanctuary (a Taman Wisata Laut) is on paper only. Borders have been discussed, but not established. Under the current plan, it includes at least 11 of the 30+ islands in the Upper Padaidos area. Because the decree for the reserve was issued without any discussion, the communities' fear it will have an impact on their access to and tenure over resources. So, for now, the reserve is regarded as a threat, even though, from a conservation standpoint, it could become part of an effective strategy.

The sasi system was brought to the Padaidos in the mid '60s by a clergymen who came up from Ambon. Known as sasi in the Malukus and other areas, in the Padaidos, the term nasisen is more commonly used. Since it was brought into the area via the church, the church became an avenue for broader discussions on resource use.

 

Charting Their Own Course

The communities know that the increasing claims on their resources jeopardizes their ability to control their future. This had a powerful effect on the direction this project has taken. While the intent was to make the communities aware of the threats to their fisheries and reefs and to help them build new businesses based on sustainable enterprises, the communities have taken their awareness of the importance of conserving their reefs and fisheries and applied all their new knowledge and skills to achieving their over-arching goal -- gaining tenure.

The communities are entirely focused on convincing the government to recognize their right to manage, use and safeguard resources and demonstrating their competency to do so. Each activity is designed to establish ownership and control of resources and to gain legal and effective acknowledgment of their rights by outsiders and other locals alike. This motivation has had a galvanizing effect on community involvement and has demanded flexibility and adaptability from Rumsram and Hualopu as an interconnected suite of solutions moves the project in new directions.

A New Awareness ...

After WWF explained the interdependencies of ecosystems and the devastating effects of bombing, Jeffry Marien and his Rumsram team began working with the local Protestant church to spread the word. "People listen to the church," says Jeffry. "So every Sunday after church came ecology lessons. Part of the sermon became, if you destroy the coral, you destroy the future for your children." Jeffry explained that, "the coral reefs are like gardens: you don't destroy them if you want them to keep producing. Or like coconuts -- if you want coconuts you don't destroy the trees."

Other progressive minded community members soon came on side. Saba's headman recalls with pride, "Before I was head man, I was a policeman. I realized the bombing was destroying the source of our living. Not only that, but people were putting their lives in jeopardy and dying due to accidents with the bombs. Every Sunday, I too would talk in church after the sermon. I was famous for my tough policy. I used a small boat for patrolling which I often paddled myself. When I saw a bomber slip into the water [to collect the stunned fish] I would go over and wait for him to reappear, then bust him. It was common practice that there would be a bigger ship waiting somewhere to get the fish from the bombing... I didn't care who the bomber was... I threw the chief of Wundi Island into jail for six months. As soon as I retired as a policeman, I was elected head man by the people."

Threat Reduction: Local residents report that threats to the Padaidos' reefs are now being met: • Reef bombing by locals: 90% reduction • Use of sodium cyanide to catch lobster: 30% reduction • Permitting outsiders to fish: 20% reduction • Locals anchoring on the reefs: 100 % reduction (buoys now serve this function)

 

Cliff Marlessy (another founding member of Rumsram and Hualopu) sums up what the NGOs have learned, "Don't introduce whole new systems if you can help it. You can either go through the culture, or the church, but in this society the culture wasn't strong enough, so we used the church as the vehicle."

Everyone goes to church on Sunday. If you build on what is there, you are not creating yet another series of meetings and demands on peoples' time. "In the Padaidos," says Cliff, "we introduced the value of the coral to ecotourism and to fish stocks." This gradually led to strong community peer pressure against bombing and commitment to protecting the reefs. It worked because the church already has a well established relationship of trust -- essential to changing values and behaviors -- and because it is often a unifying element in a society divided, in some ways, by clan relationships.

...and a Common Cause

In 1993 a Bali-based bottom-fishing boat came to the Padaidos. On board were staff from the regional planning board, government fisheries officers, the director from the industrial fishing company and police officers.

In an act of territorial protection, the local fishers, including Sefnat (a former bomber and now ardent convert for conservation) armed themselves with bows and arrows, boarded the boat, and threatened the intruders. To avoid conflict, the company decided to leave the Padaidos for good, although they continued to fish near Biak.

"The irony "says Sefnat, "is now that we are protecting the reefs and the reef fishes, the communities are effectively feeding the larger oceanic fish for the industry -- the Butonese and long liners from Sulawesi. These fishers are also finning sharks. They often take only the fins and leave the rest, or sometimes they give the bodies to the communities for food. Now most of the big sharks have been fished out. Only small sharks survive."

Working Together to Strengthen Customary Law

Today the communities have devised a new approach. All outsiders must report to the respective village headman and request a permit. The headmen have a common agreement to, in effect, reject the permit by sending the fishing boats to the deep sea and advising them not to fish around the islands.

This requires a shared sense of purpose within the communities, which has happened as a result of the islanders working together. Facilitated by Rumsram, this solidarity relies on the local social infrastructure, based on the headmen and the church.

Recently community members spotted a boat from Sulawesi fishing within the community area. They reported it to the Governor of Irian Jaya, who then ordered it to go. Another boat from Jakarta is currently under investigation. Saba's headman believes they will eventually be successful in attaining greater resource access and control because there is a good precedent. Today it is much rarer for outsiders to fish the Padaidos, but this is sure to be an ongoing struggle. "I think people should stick together," says Saba's chief. "We must strengthen customary law again by gathering the adat (customary) leaders to make a proposal that recognizes our law and control over the Padaidos."

Powerful Allies

In addition to working hard to establish collaboration and trusted relations with the community headmen, Rumsram has also reached out to the navy and government. In the interest of building alliances, they invited navy staff to a BCN-sponsored meeting. Enthusiastic about what they saw, the naval officers offered to get involved. "We can help build bigger rumpons," they said. These FADs are being developed to take some fishing pressure off the reefs, but setting up large ones is a major undertaking, so the Navy's offer to help was significant. "The rumpons," says Cliff, "are a starting point for the relationship. Maybe later the Navy can help with the cyanide and other problems."

This relationship is definitely evolving. On one occasion community members reported some Sulawesi shark fishers to the Navy and the Navy confiscated their catch. But this is not yet common.

Project staff are well aware that Indonesia's navy has been linked to destructive fishing practices and business in other parts of Indonesia. But they are willing to take a calculated risk of engaging this important "outside" stakeholder, looking to them for constructive engagement in their conservation efforts

 

Restaking their Claim

To protect itself against further encroachment by the hotel, Saba decided to re-establish "control" of the beach where the town formerly stood by making it a source of revenue. The villagers cleaned up the plastics and garbage, painted posts, planted flowers and shrubs, erected pondoks (shade huts), constructed public toilets with piped-in water, and set up traffic control gates and a booth at the entrance to two beach areas to collect user fees from beachwalkers, motorbikes and cars that come to the area. The result is a revenue-generating community business and an established presence on the beachfront. All the work was done by volunteer community labor.

The beachfront business, combined with the community mapping exercise, enabled the community to exercise active management over the area and helped convince local government officials to approve their claim. With help from Rumsram, Saba village drafted a village law to allow for collection of beach fees which was accepted and validated by the head of Biak District. This move established "community ownership" of the beach. In its own way, it is quite astonishing. Rather than wait for government approvals and acknowledgment, Saba simply took effective control of the area. They just set the business up, then told the local governing authorities to agree or kick them out. The result is that they make a healthy income from local tourists.

This is, in part, due to necessity. The project's focus has had to change and adapt. "At the outset," project staff reminisce, "we hoped to be able to attract foreign and domestic tourists." Over the last three years, however, as Indonesia spiraled into economic crisis and political instability, the number of flights to Biak steadily decreased, and so did the number of foreign tourists. In response, Rumsram concentrated on the improvement of eco-tourism facilities at Saba, and shifted their emphasis from taking foreign ecotourists snorkeling in the Padaidos to concentrating on collecting beach fees from local day users at Saba.

 

Healthy Institutions

Organizations always have inner strife, but if there is a level of directness and honesty, things can be worked out. In some projects, a lack of directness can be a problem particularly in the Javanese culture where directness is considered bad manners. But a shared commitment to a common goal goes a long way, especially if open communications are nurtured. In the Padaido Islands project, the relationships between local NGOs (Rumsram) and outside NGOs (Hualopu) have been very conducive to over-coming obstacles. This can be partially attributed to the fact the players have a long history of knowing each other, and can be direct about both good news and bad.

 

Monitoring: Communities Keeping Watch

Soon after the tsunami, Dr. Irene Novaczek, a Canadian scientist working with Hualopu, trained the locals to simply and effectively monitor the biological impacts of the project. For example, she taught them to count along transects the number and diversity of butterfly fish, which are a coral eating species and, therefore, an indicator of coral diversity and health. Twice each year the community members monitor the percentage of live coral cover off the coasts of Saba, Wundi and Dawi, the presence and growth of young coral and garbage accumulation on the beaches.

Women too, are monitoring, analyzing their shellfish catches, and forming study groups on marine plant diversity and applications for family health, food and tourism. Fishers are monitoring their catches (e.g., types of fish, size and number ) and those who use both natural reefs and the rumpon record catch data so that the degree of shift from reef to pelagic species can be evaluated. Apparently, some fishermen have requested payment for the counts they do, but Rumsram refuses, saying the work is for themselves and not Rumsram. The counts still happen.

The result of the monitoring is that the fishers are seeing recovery of the reefs and how the changes they are making -- decreased bombing, banning anchors and building buoys -- are all contributing. And while not everyone actively participates in the monitoring, all are aware of the project and what is going on. Monitoring results are now a common topic of discussion at any community gathering. Now that the community clearly sees the "cause and effect" relationship between their fishing practices and reef health, monitoring provides the data to enable them to adaptively manage both local fisheries and tourism.

The Concrete Fiasco

The government-operated Indonesian Institute for Scientific Study (LIPI) sent several of its marine biologist and researchers to the reefs off Saba. Without consulting Saba's villagers they placed 68 concrete blocks on the live coral to mark transects for research they wanted to do. While doing their own monitoring, the community members saw that the coral beneath the blocks had suffocated and died. Outraged, they wrested the blocks off the reef -- a difficult and dangerous underwater task- and effectively destroyed LIPI's baseline research effort. LIPI was incredulous and threatened to sue Hualopu (who leads the monitoring activities) for inciting the people to do this in "a government-owned area." In the end, LIPI backed off and did not press charges. The event was an interesting study, however, in legal and effective ownership. The communities are exercising effective control, but it could still be taken away at any moment.

The research was sponsored through a nationwide marine initiative that includes funding from an international lending institution and collaboration with the Indonesian government. In spite of this event (and without any prior knowledge of it) another branch of that same marine program returned to Biak and the Padaido Islands in March with a new, well-funded agenda for conservation and development, which local communities have partially rejected in favor of continued work with Hualopu and Rumsram.

 

Mapping

Toward the end of 1998, Rumsram taught community members mapping skills, using simple sketch drawings as well as GPS to inventory their resources, to delineate the boundaries of their area, and to manage resource use. This process has stretched over many months with huge community involvement. "The mapping wasn't part of the original idea," says Cliff Marlessy, "This is a defensive move to regulate resource use between various stakeholders. More and more people are coming to Irian to try to start a business. If we don't do this, we will lose what we have. So we are mapping the land as well as the social, political and economic situation. Based on that, we will have the information we need to deal with conflict resolution." Cliff points out that the people creating the maps are the community members, not the experts. "If they fight, they are fighting with themselves so they have to resolve it."

When asked the purpose of the mapping, one community member responds, "To protect our collective rights. Through mapping, we see and we know for sure the boundaries of our village - the agricultural and ancestral rights. Before this, knowledge was only passed on orally. Now we know we have the rights to the land and we will protect the resources, so we are very grateful to Rumsram."

The communities hope that by making maps of resource and village boundaries that a future decree based on the approved maps will secure resources and protect Saba's reefs. The villages have already issued local decrees based on terrestrial and marine maps, and have sent a letter to the Legal Aid Foundation in Jakarta to help legalize access and ownership based on customary law.

Policy

National laws prohibiting reef bombing and the use of sodium cyanide have rarely been enforced. In the Padaido Islands however, community members have taken it upon themselves to enforce the prohibition. And in 1997, Saba drafted a village law protecting reefs as a tourism resource. This law -- as well as the other allowing the collection of beach user fees in Saba -- was validated by the head of Biak District.

Locally, the project team has facilitated a system in which neighboring villages take on responsibility for reporting infringements of these laws to the appropriate village chief. Rumsram and Hualopu also introduced large mesh gill nets to replace small nets which scooped up too many small fish and bycatch. The villagers have wholeheartedly adopted their use. Finally, the communities have set up and encouraged the use of buoys at the various reef and snorkeling sites to prevent anchors from dragging across the living coral.

These are all clear examples of community-initiated policies that were born of increased awareness and capacity-building -- facilitated by Rumsram and Hualopu as part of an increasingly comprehensive strategy.

 

Challenges of Community Work

Rumsram's community development officers openly admit that cooperation and involvement do not always come easily. "The hardest thing about my job is the jealous mentality directed towards those who are successful," says Isaac, the community development officer for Pasi and Dawi Islands. Omi, the officer for Saba agrees, "It is very hard to encourage people to work together in a group. It may look like they are willing to work together, but most people cannot endure hard work without getting the money first. This is very hard when you are trying to do conservation work."

Disaster Relief

And, of course, if you are going to truly work with the community, you have to be flexible. For a time after the tsunami hit, the project, and particularly the tourism enterprise, were non- issues -- people were struggling simply to survive. Overnight, Rumsram's role changed from conservation and development to disaster relief. Fundraising for a rehabilitation fund to help people rebuild their lives, they provided the basics: taro, sago, knives, clothes, gill nets and fishing lines, and assisted in the purchase of new fishing gear and agricultural tools.

Since then, the project staff and their village partners have worked hard to put the project and its infrastructure back together. A major problem was the overwhelming feelings of despair and hopelessness felt by the communities. But the result of sharing this ordeal ultimately strengthened the relationship between Rumsram and the communities.

The Story of Sefnat Sefnat Rumbiak is a powerful looking man of 46. His mustache and soul-patch are flecked with grey and his eyes look seared by years of staring at the sea. A fisherman since childhood, Sefnat is a natural leader within his community. "Sefnat has a good heart and a very clear vision," says Isaac. When the tsunami struck, Sefnat headed out alone to rescue survivors from the outer islands, despite his own fears. Sefnat and Isaac have formed a powerful alliance. Their bond is born of a common desire to do good for the community which, they both realize, means doing good for the environment, too. Now vehemently opposed to the bombing he once practiced, Sefnat polices the reefs as he goes about his fishing, "If anyone hears 'Sefnat' they know what it means," he states. "If they see me coming, they are out of there. They will be afraid,"

 

Conserving resources and getting the greatest possible return from what is taken is even more important now, because the tsunami swept away so many fish. As Sefnat explains, "Before the tsunami, fish were plentiful. Everyday I could get 100-150 kg of fish and easily 500 kg in a week. But now it takes three days to fish 150 kgs, so we need ice to keep the fish preserved." The men fish until they collect 150 - 200 kgs of fish, and then they go to market. But this is inefficient and expensive. So Sefnat and Isaac came up with a better idea - a fishing cooperative.

Using a "cool box" filled with ice from the cooperative, Sefnat buys fish at a fair price from his fellow community members. When he has a good harvest on ice, he takes the fish to Biak, where he sells them to local Chinese (historically, the middlemen in community businesses and transactions), to mainland Irian Jaya, or to other commercial fish buyers. If all else fails he sells them for a fixed price to another cooperative in Manokwari.

This division of labor frees the fishers to concentrate on their fishing and not have to travel back and forth. In his role as the middleman, Sefnat is good at making decisions about how to get the best price for the fish. And he pays his fellow community members the price decided collectively by the group up front. Community members rely on Sefnat to add value to their catch, because of his trading prowess.

In the past, outside people bought fish from the villagers and didn't pay them the money owed. "So I started to do the trading for them," says Sefnat. " I like doing this. Usually I go to fish, but the community says you are better to go to the land and trade for us because you are good with money." No one dares double-cross Sefnat.

Rumsram staff have taught Sefnat the business and book-keeping skills he needs. "That's what I learned from BCN -- doing business," says Sefnat. "And I am trying to be a good person, buying the fish and being honest about giving the money. I have motivation to change the image that Irianese cannot work, to Irianese can work."

Isaac views Sefnat as his invaluable link with the community. "Sefnat has experience with the Chinese and possesses a sense of obligation. He already had a work ethic and a strong sense of responsibility as well as good contacts with people outside the community."

Sefnat is also the lead person who organizes ecotourists' visits to Dawi Island. "Yet, on a monthly basis, I might net Rp75,000 for my ecotourism efforts and Rp650,750 from fishing - roughly 10%." Unlike many of the community members who don't yet grasp the concept of ecotourism or its benefits, Sefnat understands its potential and is actively trying to promote the idea to other community members. Slowly but surely, it is happening.

"What I see is that we cannot depend on coconuts and fish. They will not be sufficient in the future. I am happy that Rumsram is offering an alternative - the cottage ecotours. This could be a help. But before we go towards ecotourism, we need to recognize our rights first - and have them recognized. So the ecotourism can go smoothly. When the fish are gone and the coconuts are not enough, the ecotourism will be there for us. But it is important to mark our rights so that the enterprise will be strong and go without problems."

 

Towards a Self-Determined Future

A key lesson from this project is the importance of allowing the communities to develop at their own pace, in their own directions, so that their momentum carries on after the project ends. The communities have embraced a new approach to non-destructive fishing practices because they now understand with greater clarity that their future depends on healthy coral reef ecosystems. Having developed business, mapping and monitoring skills, they are making better resource use decisions. They are using the enterprise to establish their property rights and to demonstrate their ability to monitor and manage their fisheries. And by actively working on these issues, they have developed closer relations with key local government officials, which puts them in a stronger position of influence. Step by step, they are changing village policies and have had success with the government's acceptance of these "laws." The combined result of all these activities is the gradual assertion of their tenure.

The communities have decided to go slow with ecotourism. Instead, they are concentrating on rebuilding their lives after the tsunami and establishing their resource rights. From their perspective, the foremost value of ecotourism is to help them stake their claim. As Cliff Marlessy explains, the project's original plan missed the mark because it was not truly community based. "The original plan was to establish an ecotourism management body and then a travel agency. But to do all this would mean hiring an outsider. We would have to centralize... but we are trying to decentralize. Most of the community development planning here has come from the bottom up. These communities are big on participatory work. We don't want to change their habits. Whatever happens, happens. Rumsram at anytime can die, but the community will always be there, so what ever happens has to belong to the community."

This project had active community participation every step of the way - through the project design, project adaptations, strategy-building, local policy making and resource use monitoring. This has brought the communities together in a way that didn't exist before, and the fact that they can see progress towards gaining tenure empowers them and makes them hopeful for the future. As Saba's headman sums it up, "Now we have an increased awareness to take care of our own reefs and to get benefits out of them. And now the communities have more dignity because we know our rights."

In this project, conservation has occurred. But the path taken was much different than expected. Community members are far more conservation-minded than before -- more organized, more aware, more skilled and consequently more confident in exercising their collective rights. But there is an important caveat. The communities' long term commitment to conservation depends on greater control of their resources. If they do not have hope for controlling the future there is little incentive for them not to mine their resources like any other outsider. For now, they are committed to finding a balance between use and conservation because they see it as their investment in the future. Thus, from the point of view of conserving biodiversity, resource control and access is essential -- because only those who are actively planning for their own futures, will actively conserve for it.

BCN's funding ended June 30, 1999, but the communities, Rumsram and Hualopu are carrying on. They have an islands management plan in place for the next three year period, as well as the technical and financial support needed to implement it. Charting their own course, the communities of the Padaidos are applying their new skills to face the challenges of managing their resources sustainably and strategically for the future- in the face of inevitable external pressures.

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