Meeting the Bajau
The Power of Conservation and Cultural Preservation
The Togean archipelago lays nestled in between the jungle-laden fingers of the Indonesian island, Sulawesi. Under the glassy surface of the Gulf of Tomini, coral reefs shimmer in the equatorial sunlight. The Bajau people used to roam this marble-flat expanse in floating villages, exclusively freediving for their food. The Bajau lived their whole lives at sea and would only come to land to trade or shelter from storms. A few of these original “Sea Gypsies” are left, but most communities were forced onto land by competition with the global fish trade and stigmas against nomadic culture. Now living in stilt houses, permanently suspended over shallow reefs, they are forced to make a living using modern commercial fishing tactics. The Bajau gave up their sustainable traditional fishing practices and turned to dynamite, cyanide and compressor fishing, as well as finning the few sharks that are left in the Sulu Sea.
The Sulu Sea is in trouble. Despite sitting in the middle of the coral triangle, it is unregulated, devoid of top predators and the reefs are turning to rubble. From our outside perspective, it’s easy to say that there is no excuse for dynamite fishing and shark finning. As marine scientists and activists, we often take a zero-tolerance approach to anything that threatens ocean wildlife. We see poachers as the enemy, but really, they are people who have been stripped of their culture and their livelihoods. This not an isolated issue. The traditions of marginalized coastal communities all over the world are being threatened, and they are forced to turn to marine exploitation to compete in the modern economy. When it comes to conservation, we have to remember that it isn’t just about saving ecosystems – it’s about preserving culture as well.
The dive center where I did my divemaster is perched on top of a rocky, mangrove and coral encircled island, a five-minute boat ride away from the Bajau village of Bomba. Like many Bajau people, the inhabitants of Bomba relocated from a life at sea to an equally spectacular village suspended on stilts. Everyone who works at the dive center comes from Bomba, including Is, the dive guide who became my very close friend. On our first dive together, Is and I motored the boat out to a nearby atoll. Across the perfectly flat water, we saw a small local canoe floating completely empty. Is told me to keep an eye out for the Bajau fisherman who would likely be freediving below. We descended over an expanse of shattered coral. In the distance, I heard loud bangs, causing the reef to shudder. Is and I cruised with the current to a drop off over a wall that plunged deep into the ocean. In the hazy water below, I saw a dark shadow moving across the bottom, more than thirty meters deep. I realized that this was the Bajau man, running in slow motion over the sand.
When we surfaced, I asked Is about the explosions we heard under water. He told me about the Bajau fisherman who had turned to dynamite fishing because foreign vessels depleted the once abundant fish in the Gulf of Tomini. This first dive in Bomba represented the juxtaposition between the fleeting practice of the Bajau freedivers, and the dynamite fisherman, both trying to feed their families. Is then went on to explain how he used to fish with dynamite before he learned to dive. Now he is a local activist against destructive fishing methods in the region.
This experience was a catalyst for my understanding of conservation. It made me realize that to protect our planet, we need to support and leverage the knowledge of traditional fishing cultures. For the Bajau, the reef is not only a source of food, but is also the foundation of their cultural identity.
Let’s start creating approaches to conservation that support the marine environment and the people that call it home. Many coastal communities just need a framework to correctly manage their resources. 500 million people worldwide depend on small scale fisheries, and we need to make sure they continue to stay accessible to them.
Many ecotourism initiatives remove the autonomy from local people. They employ expats and take more than they give back to the community. As responsible stewards of our planet, we should be collaborating with communities like Bomba to create Locally Managed Marine Areas, develop sustainable fishery management strategies, and give local people the opportunity to play an active role in preserving their ecosystems, while having the authority over their own culture.
The preservation of biodiversity through community empowerment should protect the environment as well as promote healthcare, education and women’s rights. Giving people the power to protect their local ecosystems is as critical as the conservation itself.
