After methodically throwing them against the wall one at a time, I carefully reach my hand into each of my sneakers to check for millipedes. Suda (ready to go). The millipedes are no joke here- they’re giant black monsters over a foot in length, and their bite stings for days. This check is the first of many required in a simple five minute walk down the jungle path to RACI’s land, where the cultural arts center will soon be built.
Until a road is finished, which will be soon, hopefully, we use a shortcut to get there from the resort. It seems easy enough but a trail buddy is essential to keep an eye out for weird, little spiders that like to bite your back, swat mosquitos that more resemble helicopters, and share responsibility in any other inconveniences a lush rainforest might offer. If it’s your first time, better you bring along two people and a couple of dogs in case you run into an extended family of wild hogs or giant, jungle rats. Both happened yesterday, while we were keeping a lookout for tarantulas. It’s the tradeoff you expect from a place as beautiful as this, plus the tarantula thing is just a village rumor. But I’m not taking any chances.
While we’re on the subject of villages, one of the perks of working to benefit the local community in Bunaken is that the Chief himself, Om Pere, usually joins us on these 6:15 AM sojourns. Today, the only reason I put on my shoes is because the last time I followed him through the jungle barefoot I couldn’t catch up to save my life. After a few of these walks, one comes to realize there is only one general rule to getting around the jungle: navigational direction is irrelevant. It’s true.
The trails on Bunaken are were designed to follow contours in the mountain or avert thick vegetation, not go to A to B, and they offer little convenience or function. But they’re good for the bulls like the one in the picture to drag a man and his coconuts around town. Well, there’s a little more to it than that. His job is multifold: shimmy up a few palms, get some coconuts, load them up in the wagon, then yell at the bulls to drag he and the coconuts through the mud to the bamboo outhouse. He spends the next couple of hours smoking them to release the desired effect, put into a big pile on a boat and sold to manufactures of coconut oil in Manado. It’s an interesting livelihood but unfortunately the market price isn’t fixed, so it shifts outside of his comfort range too frequently. RACI will be looking into a Fair Trade Mark for this industry in 2009 to cap the price, which will bring his trade a steady, sustainable income and a social premium that can be spent on community projects.
I’m adaptive to change if it improves my disposition, but so far my personal jungle strategy is to zig-zag across the mud trail on higher ground when I can, however I’m pretty sure I can learn something here because it seems like Om Pere just floats over the mud. We arrive at our destination and I’m covered from my feet up my legs, not to mention the bite size pieces of mud flung all over various parts of me. Drenched in sweat and caked in mud, I notice a pleasant scent of shampoo lingering on the island breeze as look over and notice Om Pere’s feet are perfectly clean and, while I shake bead of sweat off my every inch of my entire body, he miraculously smells like he just walked out of a shower. Well, we’re here at least. Usually it’s the other way around but somehow five minutes can feel like an hour in the tropics when you’re actually doing physical activity.
Brad Wilcox
Bunaken Cha Cha Nature Resort
Bunaken, Indonesia
Feb 10, 2009
