Banda, Ambon and the Wakatobi islands
JJMoon Diary
Barry and Margaret Wilmshurst
Mon 24 Aug 2009 10:21
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Time passes and quite a bit has happened
but not all of it very exciting or conducive to literary endeavour.
About 70 boats called into Banda over a period of a
week or ten days. Word got around that the islands were interesting;
not to be missed.
Our second attempt to join the tour to
the nutmeg plantation was a failure like the first. In spite of our
booking, by the time the tour boat reached JJ Moon it was overloaded, hijacked
by forceful personalities on yachts tied to the quay and there was no more
room. All dressed up and rarin' to go, we watched the eager party sailing
across the strait and were a bit taken aback. Later there were apologies
all round. We managed to join at our third attempt and the wait was
worth it. Abba, our guide, is an enterprising man with goodish English and
a keen appreciation of the possibilities for the development of tourism on his
island. We watched boats being built, climbed up through the village to
the old Dutch fort commanding one entrance to the anchorage, and visited a
nutmeg plantation where the owner demonstrated some of the finer points of his
trade. Later we paid another visit to Abba's guesthouse to enjoy his
wife's cooking with a dozen others. Our host was interesting in explaining
his plans and ambitions. We hope some of these are fulfilled - it seems
there is considerable potential for restrained tourism and increased prosperity
for these islanders.
Ambon, on the island of the same name,
has a population greater than Darwin's, but is not so clean! If something
is not needed in Indonesia it is thrown into the sea, which in places is covered
in plastic and other rubbish. We were told that before our
arrival there had been a massive clean-up, but it wasn't obvious! The
dirt and rubbish are enough to turn even the most unreconstructed
reactionary into a raving environmentalist. Ambon is not a beautiful
town but we enjoyed our stay because the locals were so keen to be helpful and
give us a good time. We struggled through the crowded, tightly packed
market, found a good internet cafe in a hotel in the centre and a very
satisfactory restaurant near the quay.
To get to the supermarket from the
internet cafe we hailed a becak ("bicycle rickshaw"). It was
immediately obvious that there was insufficient room for both of us so we
hailed a second. Mags' driver pedalled off confidently and was
soon well on his way. I had some difficulty getting into my seat; there
was little headroom under the hood and I sat clutching my backpack with my
chin on my chest and my knees close to my nose. I did not cut a
dignified figure through the streets of Ambon. My
driver stood up on his pedals and grunted with the effort. He made a
terrible fuss, grimacing and gesticulating to his colleagues at every
stop. On arrival he demanded a double fare. We tried
to bargain but he was adamant - we got the impression he had never been so put
out. We gave him his double money - Mags thought it was worth it
for the entertainment value alone - but he still looked grumpy.
There was some concern that too few boats
would turn up but in the end there were 60 on the quay so we put on a
reasonable show. One highlight was the farewell dinner held at a good
fish restaurant a mile or so along the road. We all piled into coaches and
with a motorcycle police escort, sirens wailing, local traffic waved imperiously
aside, we were whisked to our rendezvous. After local musicians had done
their stuff and a singer had made a very good fist of western
standards from the thirties we were invited to observe an important
ceremony. The national Fisheries minister from Jakarta was being honoured
by the province of Malakula of which Ambon is the capital. It seems he is
doing a good job in preserving stocks and developing the industry which the
local people were acknowledging by awarding a sort of "local knighthood".
He appeared to be a good natured man, joining in the dancing
later. The speeches were not too long, and local people and
visitors alike seemed well satisfied. It had been a privilege that
the government of Malakula had chosen to carry out this important
ceremony in our presence. Afterwards we were fed very well, embussed and
taken back to the harbour in style.
Wangi Wangi is the largest island in the
Wakatobi group, a national park. There is little indication on the chart
of any significant human habitation and we thought we were going to a quiet spot
for a bit of snorkeling and diving. On arrival we found a bustling town of
60,000 people. Indonesia is a large and very populous country!
Again, the local committee could not have been more helpful and keen to
please. Their anchorage is very deep and anticipating a large number
of rally boats they were busy throughout our stay laying down moorings.
Unfortunately they were new to this game and found themselves on a sharp
learning curve. On our second day the wind piped up a little and three
moorings sailed away with rally boats still attached. Another three went
walkabout before we left. The committee was very apologetic and the design
was changed. No boat drifted very far and no damage was done but
there were some minor adventures, alarums and excursions. We played our
part in the rescue of one boat whose crew were ashore but our own troubles
usually occurred in the middle of the night. We shifted from our original
mooring to one of improved design but it was anchored in 60 metres
(that's very deep) and was tied to its pair of concrete blocks by a
very long riser. Although the large pink polystyrene buoy looked
to be a safe distance from our neighbour, when the wind died and the tide turned
we drifted down her starboard side, round her stern, where I had to fend off
with the boathook, up the port side and back to our original position, all
between 0200 and 0300. Fortunately the anchor alarm was effective in
alerting us to impending problems and the various incidents during several
night watches enabled us to develop close fraternal ties with Ron and Robin
on Dalandra next door.
The Wakatobi islands are an official
rally stop but the body of the fleet was still in the north of Sulawesi and we
were ahead of the game. Like everywhere else in Indonesia the local people
were preparing for Independence Day celebrations and the yachties, being keen,
inquisitive and a little pushy soon indicated their willingness to join in, if
invited. The invitation was readily given and a substantial group found
themselves within the body of a march among 80 other groups. The
locals had been practicing for weeks but, alas, the yachties were lacking in
military skills. Over seven kilometres our group shambled through the
town, smiling and waving, in amongst a fine body of local men and women.
To be fair the yachties were a little handicapped by having a local
leader who could not keep step or time to his own whistle but perhaps there was
little excuse for those who did not even try to keep in step. Of course
when the call came to "halt" the yachtie group bunched up and tripped over
themselves. There were some in the group (including the mate of JJ Moon)
who felt uncomfortable at what might have been construed as lack of respect, but
the happy outcome was that the townspeople lining the route laughed as they had
not done for ages and the group featured, without criticism, on local television
later in the day. The poor showing of our marchers was not enough to
prevent the Regent (the head of the community) inviting the whole fleet to the
official celebrations at the football ground and to a party at his
house two days later. To be frank this was rather heavy going but
again we were very grateful to be given the opportunity to observe and take part
in significant community events in another culture. We took a guided
trip round the island where among other things we saw the beginnings of a resort
and conference facility being developed in a picturesque spot by the Regent and
a large area of seaweed farming where the fishermen had been persuaded to change
their means of livelihood (and to stop dynamiting the fish). Despite the
wandering moorings we greatly enjoyed our time on Wangi Wangi.
Hoga is another island in the group a
short day's sail away. This has a reef of world renown to snorkelers and
divers and is home to an important marine biology research facility.
Scientists and students come from all over the world, many from universities in
the UK and New Zealand. There is little else on the island except a
restaurant and a small dive centre so when we were invited to a morning lecture
to be given by the research centre manager we piled ashore with the group's
usual eager anticipation. Unfortunately, the young English woman who
manages the centre took the opportunity to give us all a frightful ticking off
for the sins of previous visitors. After a bit one couple decided that
they had had enough of it and went back to their boat and those who stayed had
to endure a second round within the lecture theatre before the main business of
the morning: the work and organization of the centre. It was all rather
distressing, particularly as nobody present had been guilty of any of
the infractions complained about and the discourtesy shown was in
marked contrast to the attitude and behaviour of every Indonesian we had had
dealings with so far, from a government minister to the most junior
official. It's a very nice island and Mags has done a couple of dives
but we are all keeping well clear of Madam.
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