Nature Conservation for Papua

KOMPAS/SEKAR GANDHAWANGI

Lukas Rumetna

Lukas Rumetna, 55, has been a coastal conservation activist in eastern Indonesia for two decades. Growing up close to nature, he began taking part in field activities only as an adult, starting with a simple and unusual fascination with mountaineering pants.

Lukas used to dress neatly, wearing a collared shirt tucked into the waist of his trousers. Every day, he worked at a desk as a finance assistant at a conservation institute in Merauke, Papua.

He liked his job. While it matched his university degree, Lukas had long aspired to work at a nature conservation agency. When the institute held an employment exam on his campus, Lukas was the only one who passed.

“One day, I saw my fieldwork colleagues arriving at the office with backpacks and in Alpina [mountaineering pants]. I was awed, ‘Wow, they look so cool.’ That prompted me to ask for a field assignment,” Lukas said with a hearty laugh on Tuesday (28/6/2022) in North Misool, Raja Ampat, West Papua.

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Lukas’ request was granted. In 1995, he was tasked with protecting turtles as they laid their eggs on Jamursba Medi Beach in Sorong regency, Papua. Today, the area is part of Tambrauw regency in West Papua. The beach is known as one of the nesting sites of leatherback turtles, the largest sea turtle species.

Some of the eggs do not hatch, while many young turtles fall victim to predators before or after they hatch.

The turtles need protection because only a small percentage of baby turtles develop into adults. Out of 100 eggs female turtles lay, no more than five baby turtles survive into full adulthood. Some of the eggs do not hatch, while many young turtles fall victim to predators before or after they hatch.

It was feared that this would affect coastal conservation, so the turtles were discouraged to come ashore to lay their eggs.

The nesting site Lukas and his colleagues guarded was threatened with destruction. The beach was only around 50 meters from a community production forest. The residents, as the holders of the communal land right, were discussing whether to allow a company to enter and exploit the forest. It was feared that this would affect coastal conservation, so the turtles were discouraged to come ashore to lay their eggs.

KOMPAS/AGUS SUSANTO (AGS)

A turtle hatchery on the shore of Skouw Yambe, Muara Tami District, Jayapura, Papua, Sunday (16/7/2017).

On the other hand, some residents were in favor of using the forest, as they would earn an income from lumber sales. Compared with the Rp 1 million to 2 million they were paid to monitor the turtles, the income they would make from exploiting forest products was certainly more attractive. Lukas and his colleagues thus sought another way to involve the residents in turtle conservation.

“Local people maintain a belief that turtles are their ancestors. Based on this belief, their sense of ownership over the turtles was finally revived. We also arranged a traditional ceremony,” he related.

Several years later, he got a public relations job with The Nature Conservancy (TNC) Indonesia, now the Nusantara Nature Conservancy Foundation (YKAN).

In 1997, Lukas moved to a different conservation agency and was assigned to the Arfak Mountains Nature Reserve in Manokwari, West Papua, as the coordinator of developing the local community. Several years later, he got a public relations job with The Nature Conservancy (TNC) Indonesia, now the Nusantara Nature Conservancy Foundation (YKAN).

The duties he performed honed Lukas’ skills in communicating with the local community, an important skill because in Papua, one of the keys to the success of nature conservation is working with indigenous communities.

Community rejection

In reality, approaching the local people is harder than it looks. The local community once rejected Lukas even before he had started any activities. When attending a church service with the local congregation, some people called out: “We don’t need conservation!”

He was also driven out when visiting Fafanlap in South Misool. The local residents disapproved of a stranger entering the village for the purpose of conservation. Many conservation activists are aware of this, because there are always people who are suspicious of outsiders. They are afraid of being deceived and their livelihoods harmed.

“We just accept it when we are not welcomed by the public. It’s impossible to push people,” said Lukas, who is now senior manager of the Bird’s Head Seascape at YKAN.

“But I told the residents that if they needed our help some day, just come to our office. Around one to two years later, they came and asked [for our help] to conserve their seas.”

KOMPAS/SEKAR GANDHAWANGI

Lukas Rumetna.

Lukas and his colleagues promptly provided assistance. They designed a conservation program together with the local residents. They also raised awareness of coastal conservation among the village children, for instance, by teaching them not to fish using poison and bombs. The youths were also invited to become involved as conservation activists in their village.

Such approaches not only teach the new generation the importance of protecting nature, but the youths will also go on to teach their parents at home. According to Lukas, adults are sometimes more willing to listen to their children rather than other adults. Some day, the village residents will recall that their children admonished them when they were caught fishing using destructive means.

Apart from communities, Lukas also works with al leaders, religious figures and village administrators. Kristian Thebu, the chairman of the Maya community’s customary council, previously said that community leaders, religious figures and village administrators were the three main pillars that should be involved in every activity in Tanah Papua (Papuan lands).

In turn, the people can use the accrued interest, or the surplus fish that results from conserving the core zone.

Lukas uses simple analogies so everyone can understand the concept of conservation. For example, he likens the core coastal conservation zone to a savings account. Just like a savings account, fish in the core zone must not be caught in order to sustain marine resources. In turn, the people can use the accrued interest, or the surplus fish that results from conserving the core zone.

Local communities are also asked to monitor the change in marine resources as an impact of environmental damage.

“Some residents said they used to roast sweet potatoes in their backyard while they fished. By the time the potatoes were ready, they had also caught fish. Now, even when the potatoes are done, no fish have been caught,” said Lukas.

Other people said that they had to sail far into the sea to fish. Before, they could catch an abundant amount of fish without sailing too far from the coast. From their own accounts, Lukas helped them understand that these were signs of marine habitat damage. The people who understood this were then prepared to join conservation activities in their village.

Lukas has many other stories about the conservation activities in Papua’s villages, but we had to end the interview. The sound of the waves was calling him to carry on with his mission of protecting the sea and its resources.

Lukas Rumetna

Born: Merauke, 22 May 1967

Education: Bachelor’s degree, College of Economics, Jayapura

Wife: Sri Nuryani

Children: four

(This article was translated by Aris Prawira)