SPACE INVADERS
There is something a little sad on the faces of the people in Waisai (West Papua). Everywhere side-eyes. Smiles that don’t reach eyes and faces that read like heavy sighs. This market, although beautiful, was heavy with gloom, melancholy, and an infinite sadness - a likely hangover from the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami that levelled the town. The hum, the tang, and the mood of raw humanity; expressions both wary and weary. Feeling like space invaders, we grabbed our wares and set sail for Raja Ampat.
Waisai is the jump off point for the Raja Ampat archipelago; a marine ecosystem considered the global epicentre of biodiversity, home to over 600 coral varieties, 1,700 reef fish species, endangered marine mammals and a gamut of global tourists who suffer multiple long-haul flights to tick this box.
Here we are blessed. Dawn is for Birds of Paradise and snorkelling with manta rays, daylight is for multiple tropically warm reef dives till fingers wrinkle (days punctuated by dolphins, orca, turtles, flying fish, manta rays, sharks and one billion colourful tropical fish and creatures - we even swam across the equator) afternoons are for hiking, sleeping and eating, and evenings are for reading. Every day is for exploring.
Manta Ray - Credit Denise Bosbach
Dotted out here amongst one of the richest coral reef ecosystems on the planet are small communities who despite their surrounds share a little Waisai sorrow. But as usual, we found joy on the faces of the children. In this village, these pikinini took us on tour. They don’t speak much English and we don’t speak much Indonesian. We trade rote phrases, exchanging Hey Mister!!! with Terima Kasih!!!. The kids, and indeed the adults, chorus an exuberant YES to any question. We high-fived and took pictures with peace signs, just like any kids would do.
Amongst the throng we found Johnny drawing pictures of boats. We asked the teacher if we could take him to our boat Strannik; his eyes got very big and round and wide. We said pick a friend, he chose John, and the nerves disappeared. We showed John and Johnny the boat, fed them ample chocolate biscuits, took the obligatory picture at the helm and sent them home with gifts for the other kids. The delight and wonder on their faces was fun, but by far the most touching moment was when the 30 other kids cheered, clapped and waved the two Johnny’s off at the start of this mini adventure with no sign of jealousy and nothing but excitement for their friends’ stroke of luck. It was just so natural and so lovely.
We really don’t see many people here. There is a mini hustle going on as locals service the tourist trade. Our occasional visits to villages feel voyeuristic. Real engagement is hard to come by and the trash alone will break your heart. The weather is even-tempered - it is the doldrums after all.
Our cups are full to overflowing, filled to the brim with the beauty, the calm, and not knowing what day it is. We feel very grateful. Although it is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been, it doesn’t feel like the happiest.
But it’s hard to tell, who knows, maybe I am wrong. I hope so.
