Maluku

Right smack in the middle of Tobin’s visit here in Indonesia, I was sent to the province of Maluku for work. On the one hand, I was excited to see more of Indonesia and to learn more about MDPI’s work; on the other hand, I felt guilty, frustrated and sad to be spending the time away from Tob … but I didn’t have much of a choice, so off I went.

The Maluku Islands (also known as the Moluccas, or Spice Islands) are famous for their production of nutmeg and cloves. In fact, there’s a popular tidbit that one of the islands, Pulau Run, was traded for Manhattan. By gaining control of Pulau Run, the Dutch obtained a monopoly on the world’s supply of nutmeg (and the British just got a swampy island…). Today, the islands still produce spices, but are also hubs of fisheries, agriculture, and mining.

On the Monday morning after our weekend at Ijen, I flew from Denpasar to Makassar (Sulawesi), then from Makassar to Ambon, the capital of Maluku. I probably should have been sleeping but I spent the majority of the flights with my forehead glued to the window, taking in the incredible greens and blues of this country.

Ambon itself is spread out across two sides of an inlet, with the airport on the opposite side of the city centre. So the 40-minute drive from the airport into town provided a great opportunity to take in the area – the green hills, the bustling streets, the precarious buildings. Bonus: the driver was playing Avril Lavigne and he hummed and whistled along to all of her songs.

Views over Ambon city

Ambon is busy but not very touristy (or at least, I didn’t get the chance to do or see anything touristy – I know there are a few sites to see). I spent most of my time working while I was there – MDPI was hosting a DMC meeting. All of the key stakeholders in our work (government, fishermen, suppliers, processors, NGOs, academics, etc.) come together as a Data Management Committee – it’s a form of co-management where they’re able to discuss fisheries issues and progress in their area. We have six different DMCs across Eastern Indonesia, and the eventual goal is that these committees should be able to continue without MDPI’s support.

Angkot - local transportation

Nasi kuning - my favourite meal in Indonesia thus far

After two days of meetings conducted completely in the Indonesian language (I didn’t contribute much more than my name) I was supposed to travel from Ambon to Buru Island, where I’d visit a few of our field sites. This, however, proved to be quite a complicated journey.

Getting to Buru involves taking an 8-hour ferry overnight, and the ferries in Indonesia are notoriously overcrowded, neglected, and well below safety standards... definitely a recipe for adventure! I was extra hesitant since I’d be travelling alone and I speak very limited Bahasa Indonesia. My colleagues were very reassuring though and helped me every step of the way.

There are three classes for travelling on the ferry: economy, business, and VIP. Economy means sleeping on the floor wherever you can find a space; business means getting a bunk in an overcrowded, hot room; VIP means getting a bunk in a room made slightly less hot by an air conditioning unit. In all instances, you’re wedged in with the other travellers, subject to the snores, sneezes, and various other pleasantries of mass sleepovers. As possibly the world’s lightest sleeper, this is a bit of a nightmare.

MDPI has a little trick though – if you know the ferry staff, you can book a spot in a much smaller, much better air-conditioned, much less crowded room (and of course pay a premium for this luxury). You can only book the day of the sailing though, so there’s always a bit of anxiety about making sure this happens early in the morning. Luckily my coworkers sorted this all out for me.

We arrived at the ferry terminal about an hour before departure. It was hectic. There were cars everywhere, motorbikes everywhere, hordes of people. It turns out there was a festival in Buru the next day to celebrate the anniversary of the island, so everybody and their grandma was headed there.

The ferry dock.

Every nook and cranny of the ferry seemed to be filled with people camped out for the night’s voyage. Countless eyes followed me as I walked onto the ferry, escorted by two MDPI staff, Wildan and Nilam, who were going to help me get settled and send me on my way. I was very, very clearly the only foreigner on the boat. Luckily I had my safe little private nook, tucked in the side of the ferry and protected by an extremely heavy metal door. Nilam told me not to leave the room until we’d arrived in Buru. What if I have to pee, I wondered?

My bunk for the night... or so I thought!

A ferry staff member popped his head into the room and spoke quickly to Nilam and Wildan. Nilam’s face betrayed her anxiety, and I was informed that someone very important, a head of district, had called to book a room and we’d lost my space. My heart sank into my stomach as I contemplated spending the eight-hour ferry ride wedged in with the hundreds of other passengers.

I probably sound like a bit of a princess here, and I should clarify that I don’t mind getting dirty or being uncomfortable. In fact I actively choose to sleep in all sorts of weird places most weekends. But this was becoming a question of safety, not comfort.

We were told that there was an alternative place to sleep so we descended into the bowels of the vessel via a small metal ladder to an area where the crew sleeps on the floor. It was certainly less crowded, but it was incredibly hot and loud and I just wasn’t convinced I’d sleep at all. So in the end, we decided to wait another day for me to take the ferry. I was relieved – I was coming down with a cold and knew a good night’s sleep would feel fantastic. Back at the hotel, I was asleep in no time.

After spending the day working from MDPI’s office in Ambon, we went through the whole rigmarole the next evening on a much emptier ferry. I got my own bunk in an eight-person room infested with cockroaches. But our beds had curtains, so that was a plus. I didn’t sleep much – it was quite bright and people kept coming in and out of the room – but it was certainly bearable.

Nestled in my little bunk for the night.

The ferry arrived at the port in Namlea on the eastern side of Buru at about 4:30 in the morning. Bleary-eyed, I collected my things and walked off of the boat and was greeted by Huda, the supervisor for MDPI’s field sites on Buru. He took me to a small homestay nearby where I passed out on the floor until about 8:30am.

Compared to the ferry, this was glorious.

For the next two days, Huda showed me around Buru – we visited several of our field sites and I met various MDPI staff that collect daily fisheries data and work on Fair Trade projects. It was an amazing couple of days filled with completely authentic experiences – I was reminded of how lucky I am to be here and I felt incredibly grateful that I have this opportunity. I was also constantly asked for photos with the locals … I don’t think foreigners pass through very often!

A picturesque dock, where there was quickly a lineup to take photos with the blonde girl.

Fishing boats at rest.

Asis collecting tuna data

It was quite a short trip (made shorter by the ferry mishap) and I’m looking forward to the next opportunity I’ll have to go to Buru. In the spring, turtles nest on the beach right out front of the MDPI office – fingers crossed I can check that out!

Staying hydrated on the job with Huda

The return trip to Ambon was just as complicated as the journey to Buru. Many of the people who’d travelled to Buru for the festival were now heading back to Ambon, so the ferry was busy again. Huda had booked a space for me in the smaller room, but once again the same head of district booked the room just hours before the ferry was supposed to depart and I lost my spot. Luckily Huda was able to pull a bunch of strings and managed to get me a space in the "VIP" room, still a room with forty people but at least with AC.

VIP bunks that quickly filled up

I barely slept that night – I don’t think the air con was doing much, because I was dripping sweat and couldn’t get comfortable. There were babies crying, cell phones ringing, people talking on their cell phones, more babies crying... coughing, snoring, sneezing, people going in and out of the room. I kept my earplugs in and was content to spend the night reading until, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the quick movement of something small and dark; I thought it crossed the bathroom door a few metres beyond where our mats ended, but I quickly realized I was wrong as a massive cockroach scuttled over my neighbour's feet and began inching its way up her legs, spending an uncomfortable length of time investigating the creases of her shorts. Unsure whether or not to wake her, I eventually chose what seemed like an appropriate time (in terms of the cockroach’s location on her body) to try to deter it. I merely tapped one of its antennae and it went zipping off at lightening speed towards its next hunting ground.

Sweaty and sleepy (and too tall for these bunks)

It was at that point that I spotted an equally large cockroach crossing the floor. I was already so hot and tired and uncomfortable at this point that I wasn’t capable of being any more grossed out. Interestingly, images came to mind of the adorable animated cockroach in Wall-E, which somehow made it slightly more bearable knowing the bugs could be anywhere. Rather than feign sleep, I opted to continue reading, the most effective way of being immediately transported elsewhere.

The ferry docked early, just before 4:00am. I caught a taxi to the airport, where I hung out until my flight at 8:00am. By the afternoon, I was back in Bali, gleefully reunited with Tobin and napping in a real bed.