Indonesian Conservation
By: Muhammad Gifari and Aristya Tri Rahayu
Evening was falling on Sisarahili Village, Sawo District, North Nias Regency. Beneath the lush mangrove canopy, our boat glided slowly, accompanied by the sound of trickling water and the chirping of birds. The air felt cooler, as if reluctant to blend with the blazing North Sumatran sun that afternoon.
The small river that forms the estuary of Ba'a Bay feels so calm. Sunlight shining through the leaves dances across the water's surface, revealing the intertwined mangrove roots along the banks. Small fish and shrimp swim nimbly between them. This area is home to a variety of marine life, a breeding ground for increasingly rare species.
"Sir, this mangrove area is still well-preserved and beautiful!" I exclaimed in amazement.
"Yes, actually, there used to be many estuaries with mangrove forests as beautiful as this," replied the middle-aged man rowing our boat. "But now many have been cut down, replaced by coconut trees. We're the only one left to protect this estuary."
His name is Manueli Telaumbanua, familiarly known as Ama Winca, or Bapak Winca. He is the former head of Sisarahili Village and is now better known as the last mangrove forest guardian in the area. Although he is already in his 60s, his passion for coastal preservation remains undiminished. He now leads the Teluk Ba'a Community Watch (Pokmaswas Teluk Ba'a), a community group that monitors marine and fisheries resources, formed to maintain the sustainability of this area.
The initiative to protect mangrove forests is nothing new for Ama Winca. Long before the massive earthquake struck Nias in 2005, he had been mobilizing communities across villages to independently replant mangrove trees. They planted propagules—young mangrove seedlings—in six surrounding coastal villages.
The action was motivated by concerns about the increasingly arid sea conditions. "We used to be able to catch fish not far from the shore. But now there are fewer and fewer fish," he said softly.
The situation is further exacerbated by the phenomenon uplift or the rise of the seabed due to the earthquake. Many coral reefs rose to the surface and became land. The mangrove ecosystem, which depends on the tidal zone, was also disrupted. Many trees died and dried out. Rehabilitation is the only way to restore the ecosystem's balance.
However, Ama Winca realized that this struggle couldn't be fought alone. Therefore, when Konservasi Indonesia (KI) arrived at the end of 2023, she welcomed it with open arms.
KI facilitated the formation of the first Community Monitoring Groups (Pokmaswas) in North Nias Regency. These include Pokmaswas Bintang Samudera in Mo'Awo Village, Pokmaswas BFDT in Balefadorotuho, and Pokmaswas Teluk Ba'a in Sisarahili Village, Teluk Siabang. Each consists of 15 members who work voluntarily, monitoring and protecting marine and fisheries resources in their areas. Official recognition from the North Sumatra Provincial Maritime Affairs and Fisheries Agency further strengthens their role.
One of Ama Winca's colleagues, Ama Cintu, also known as Serasih Telaumbanua (44), has also been a driving force behind conservation efforts. Together with KI and the district government, they have planted more than 18.000 mangrove seedlings on 42 hectares of land.
The species planted are not arbitrary. Rhizophora apiculata, which is tolerant of high salinity and suitable for muddy and rocky areas, was chosen as the main type. Sonneratia alba, grows naturally as a successor on coral substrate exposed after the earthquake.
These efforts don't stop on the ground. A mangrove nursery has also been established in Sisarahili Village. With a capacity of 25 seedlings, this nursery serves as a nursery and education center, as well as a form of direct community involvement in preserving their own ecosystem.
That afternoon, as our boat left the estuary and headed out to sea, rows of young mangrove seedlings swayed in the waves. Some had only been planted for a month. Ama Winca gazed at them with emotion.
"What are your hopes for this mangrove planting?" I asked, breaking the silence of the evening.
"This is a long job," he replied firmly. "Hopefully, the mangroves will continue to be protected for future generations."
He looked up at the orange sky. Then, as if closing a chapter on the day's long journey, he said softly, "It's getting late, let's go home." We headed back to the village, with one simple hope: that this last estuary will remain alive and well.
