Personal stories from a life in Sumatra

Keep it wild

Our Jungle — Mon, 10 Mar 2025 07:33:30 +0000

When I was little, growing up in Queensland, Australia, I took a wildlife rescue course. I took great pride in being the youngest ever participant at Wildcare at the innocent age of 10. We learnt how to respond to native animals that had been injured. Some had been hit by a car, others trapped in a pool or somehow wandered into a suburban area that wasn't safe for them. The course instructors taught us how to safely hold the animals, how to help them recover and then release them once again into their native habitat. Most of all, they taught us to keep them wild.

It was strictly forbidden to treat the animals as pets. We were to touch them only when absolutely necessary. Our purpose was to help them recover and only this. They were not there for our benefit. Of course, this went against all my impulses and desires as an animal-obsessed child.

As I was obviously too young to drive out and rescue animals in distress, I helped out by going to the house of a long-time volunteer. Her house was like a scene from Dr Doolittle. There was a huge cage outside filled with flying foxes. Small native rodents scurried about in empty aquariums. A room was made dark to give comfort to the many nocturnal creatures within. And joeys (small, baby kangaroos) sat comfortably in makeshift pouches - feet in the air and heads poking out.

My first job was to feed the joeys with a bottle. I sat there the whole time with a ridiculous grin on my face. I was in heaven. After that it was time to clean out the poop in all the cages. This was less exciting. The rest of the day turned out to be more of the same. Gathering food for the birds, cleaning poop. Laying out fresh newspaper, cleaning poop. My delusions of becoming mother nature were starting to shatter. When I asked for a task a little bit more like my first, the woman taught me a lesson I'll never forget.

She told me these animals were not here for our pleasure, they're here because they need our help. Every time we touch a wild animal, they become a little less wild, and being wild is what makes them happy. If we start to interact too much with these vulnerable creatures they start to ignore their instincts and trust humans, which can lead to them ending up in seriously compromising situations later on in life.

It's important when we help wildlife to remember the purpose. As humans encroach on the homes of native animals they become displaced, and often need the assistance of volunteers who care about their wellbeing to get back to their original way. But when we touch them, when we cuddle them and feed their babies in front of the mothers, we are doing it for our own pleasure, not for them. They are not human and that’s a special part of their beauty.

There is a great satisfaction felt when seeing animals happy in their native place. It doesn’t have to be a guilty pleasure. Watching and observing from a safe distance, bringing tourist dollars and spending it locally on ecotourism and ethical guides, these are some of the best ways to contribute to the wellbeing of native, wild animals, wherever they are.

The post Keep it wild appeared first on Our Jungle Ketambe.

Night Fishing

Our Jungle — Mon, 25 Jul 2022 06:55:39 +0000

It's July and the driest time of the year in this narrow rainforest valley. The Gurah River from the jungle meets the Alas River snaking its way south between the two mountain ranges. Then spreads out into a miniature delta behind Ketambe village. The rain hasn't come for over a week now and the once raging current has slowed to a trickle over the round, riverbed stones.

Tonight the usually empty blackness behind the house, where we know the river to be, is spotted with pinpoints of light hovering like fireflies. Our young nieces next door drag grandma into the backyard pointing in excitement. "Fishermen!"

Down at the rocky shore more and more people gather to watch or join in. Beams of light from head-torches bouncing as they make their way into the water. They move and stack stones, manipulating the direction of the stream to drive fish through bottlenecks, then wade through the shallows with nets scooping up the exposed fish. Some have lit small fires to rest by. A large group of women sit around the flames chatting, their haul safe in buckets beside them. Smoke wafts through the air, illuminated by the lights of the village.

Safar sits in the darkness watching and reminiscing about his childhood. The best memories always seem to involve fishing. It's mostly quiet as people focus on outsmarting the wriggling creatures. The usual white noise from the rushing river is gone. Here a cicada whistle reverberates through the air. There a steady "plonk-splash, plonk-splash" of stones being rearranged. Occasionally in the distance a call to a friend. The night sails by. Then slowly, one by one, people gather their catch and wander back home.

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The post Night Fishing appeared first on Our Jungle Ketambe.

10 things about Sumatra I may never get used to

Our Jungle — Wed, 02 Feb 2022 15:41:25 +0000

I first travelled to Ketambe in 2016 when I met Safar. Since then it's been a rollercoaster of exciting new experiences and cultural differences - some of which I may never get used to! Here are my top 10:

1. Conversations can switch between different languages without a second thought

I'm forever amazed at the ease with which Indonesians learn languages. The village is split about 80/20 between Gayo people of Central Aceh and Alas people of South East Aceh, each of which have their own very distinct languages. At school kids speak the national Indonesian language. In the mosque prayers are all in Arabic. And the trekking guides working in tourism know English and a smattering of phrases from other European languages. In a group setting this can result in a bizarre conversation that switches between any of these mid sentence and leaves me feeling lost earlier than I'd like to admit!

2. Bread is always sweet

Forget about putting vegemite on any of the bread here, it just wont work. Instead, be prepared for tiny little bread rolls filled with chocolate that come in miniscule snack packets. If you're a sweet tooth you'll be right at home! Although you may be more tempted by the super sweet exotic fruits...

3. Hot water isn't a thing

Not for showers, not for washing dishes and certainly not for washing clothes. Hot running water is a foreign concept in a tropical climate like Ketambe and everyone seems to get by perfectly fine without it. To be honest, the shock of a cold shower each evening is a touch addictive after a while.

4. Everyone is an extrovert

As a solo traveller, you will be awed and admired and maybe a little pitied. Here people travel in packs and hate being alone for too long. Friends will sit and chat in groups for hours, sisters cook together for whole households, rooms are shared between multiple siblings and wild gangs of tiny children play elaborate, imaginative games together. To spend time alone willingingly is likely to cement an impression as a little bit weird.

5. Taps are left running

Coming from a dry country this one might always make me uncomfortable. In a Ketambe household the taps are almost always left running into large buckets in the bathroom and kitchen. People then use scoops to easily dish out what's needed for cleaning or showering and the bucket is promptly filled back up from the tap until overflowing. Water is fed to the village via streams running off the surrounding mountain ranges that never run dry. In fact, the pressure build up by the sheer volume of water sometimes causes broken pipes and water outages. It probably helps that water supply is paid for by the month, rather than by volume.

6.Everything grows so easily

That watermelon you were eating last week and throwing the seeds from? Yep, there's now 5 new watermelon seedlings in your backyard. Those chickens foraging between the houses? They got that big just from eating bugs and scraps. That giant jackfruit being made into curry? The tree didn't even exist 3 years ago. The bountiful sun, rain and organic matter in Sumatra is a hot bed for growth and it's like watching life progressing on fast forward.

7. Private property isn't so private

Sumatra is definitely a culture of sharing. Houses are occupied by close and extended family alike. Tools are loaned to neighbours for months at a time. Motorbike keys are borrowed without question. Meals are shared with anyone within a 50m radius. It's perfectly acceptable and encouraged to rock up to someone's house without warning and stay to chat for a few hours. You wont find any "Keep out: private property" signs in this community.

8. There is no rubbish collection

It can be confronting to have to personally deal with our own waste. What a privilege in western countries to be able to throw something in a bin and never think about it again. There is no garbage collection or bin day in Ketambe. What we consume we must dispose of ourselves. A long time ago when everything was made from organic materials this was never an issue. Waste was thrown into the garden and quickly became soil. But since plastic spread around the world it's not so easy to get away from.

There are two options for getting rid of rubbish in the village: throw it or burn it. We try to divide our rubbish into organics or plastics and dispose of accordingly, but for many who have always just thrown it away it's a hard habit to break. Kids are now starting to learn of the long term damages plastic waste can cause.

9. Hair conditioner is a rare find

The lack of hair conditioner is troublesome. Finding a decent bottle of it is not easy. I've tried to go without and my thin curly locks scream in protest. Somehow many of the women and men care for their gorgeous soft and shiny hair using shampoo alone. However much conditioner you think you'll need for a trip to Sumatra, bring double just in case.

10. Lazy is not a bad word

Feeling a bit slow today? Just want to chill in a hammock for a bit? Go ahead and be lazy! Working in the plantation or looking after the family can be hard work and people often spend their leisure time doing very little. Which is perfectly acceptable. With company of course!

The post 10 things about Sumatra I may never get used to appeared first on Our Jungle Ketambe.

The beginning

Our Jungle — Thu, 06 Jan 2022 12:47:59 +0000

Tomorrow it finally begins. Years of planning, dreaming, imagining, saving and waiting. We bought this little slice of nature nearly 4 years ago. One and a half hectares of Gunung Setan, a steep slope with 3 flattish peaks and a scattering of banana, rubber and durian trees between the villages of Ketambe and Bintang Benar. For a long time we weren't even sure if we could build here to make our home in Sumatra. The hill rises sharply, nearly a 45 degree angle, which I couldn't imagine a car climbing safely. In the end we decided to consult someone with experience in these things, who assured us it could be done. So we planned a path, marked out the areas, and tomorrow the excavator arrives to prepare build sites and begin creating our ambitious and lengthy driveway.

We headed out to the land late afternoon in anticipation of the delivery truck. It had been a hot day but now the clouds had rolled in and a cool breeze was sweeping up the valley. We'd been here many times before, but always on a mission with a time limit. While quietly waiting there was now a moment to just take it all in.

I wandered about, squelching in the spring water rising from the ground and following the trickles to a gorge at the border. Safar collected bits of old rubbish from before our time, burning them and letting the smoke drive the mosquitos away. We sent up prayers and requests for guidance in looking after this place and talked about what types of trees would grow well here and there. I scarpered up the hill collecting perfect, crumbly black soil for growing the seeds we'd been collecting, then found a big root beneath a durian tree and sat for a while looking down through the valley.

Safar had also made his way up the hill further across as he collected chilli seedlings, carefully removing them from the path of potential destruction from the excavator. Each in our own little space on the side of the hill, we watched. The giant dead tree rising up over 80m had an eagle's nest at the top and was cracked by lighting, threatening to one day crash across the road. Friends rode past on motorbikes down below, honking in recognition. Dragonflies chased mosquitos back and forth. The sun began to set and fruit bats began their nightly migration across the sky above us. The mosque sang out the call to prayer. The distant mountains faded from orange to red showing deep shadows between its chasms. It was pure, contented joy to be in this place. What a privilege to be able to live here.

Moments before leaving we heard an eagle screech and Safar pointed to one of the durian trees further up. The huge bird had made its home there in our absence. I hoped to get a better view of it later.

The truck delivering the excavator had not yet arrived. But no matter, perhaps tomorrow.

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