JAYAPURA, Indonesia — In the southeastern part of Jayapura, Petronela Merauje makes her way through her floating village, inviting women to join her the next morning in the nearby mangrove forests.
Merauje, along with the women from Enggros village, practices Tonotwiyat, a tradition that means “working in the forest.” For six generations, women in this Papuan community of approximately 700 people have engaged with the mangroves to collect clams, catch fish, and gather firewood.
“The customs of Papuans, particularly for us in Enggros, indicate that women often lack a platform in traditional discussions. So, the tribal leaders have designated the mangrove forest as our space,” Merauje explained. The forest serves as a source of sustenance, a communal space for storytelling, and a daily opportunity for women to generate income.
The forest lies just 13 kilometers (8 miles) from downtown Jayapura, the capital of Papua, Indonesia’s farthest eastern province. The forest earned its name as the women’s forest in 2016 when it was officially designated by the village leader. However, the tradition of women gathering there predates this announcement. With the encroachment of pollution, development, and biodiversity loss threatening to diminish the forest, residents are alarmed that a critical aspect of their traditions and livelihoods could vanish. Initiatives to protect the area from harm have started but remain limited in scope.
Women have their own area in the forest, but it is diminishing.
One morning, Merauje and her 15-year-old daughter navigated a small motorboat to reach the forest. Upon arrival at Youtefa Bay, surrounded by mangrove trees, they waded into the water, with buckets in hand, searching for the soft-shell clams known as bia noor. These women harvest clams and fish for food daily.
“Our women’s forest doubles as our kitchen,” stated Berta Sanyi, another resident of Enggros village.
On this same morning, another woman showed up with her boat, ready to collect firewood, and three additional women arrived in a rowboat.
Nearby, women in the adjacent village of Tobati also have access to a women’s forest. These two Indigenous communities, separated by just 2 kilometers (1.2 miles), are culturally alike, with Enggros having originated from Tobati decades earlier. In the privacy of the forest, women from both villages discuss personal matters and express concerns away from the eyes and ears of the larger community.
Alfred Drunyi, who leads the Drunyi tribe in Enggros, emphasized the importance of designated areas for both women and men within their culture. If a man enters the women’s forest, he must pay a fine, which is determined by the community’s assessment of his guilt.
“They should be punished with our primary treasure, which is traditional beads, or perhaps some money. But the fines go to the women,” Drunyi said.
However, Sanyi, who has been harvesting in the forest since she was 17, points out that external threats to their space are a significant concern.
Development projects along the bay have transformed substantial forest areas into expansive roads, including a 700-meter (2,300-foot) bridge leading into Jayapura, cutting across the Enggros pier. With Jayapura’s population swelling to around 400,000—making it the largest city on the island—the mangrove forest is under increasing strain.
Once measuring about 514 hectares (1,270 acres) nearly sixty years ago, the mangrove forest in Youtefa Bay is now estimated to cover less than half that area. “It saddens me to witness the current state of the forest,” Sanyi lamented. “This is our home.” She mentioned how many young people, including her own children, are increasingly choosing employment in Jayapura over their traditional ways of life.
Pollution endangers cultural practices and community health.
Youtefa Bay, a confluence of brackish seawater and five rivers in Papua, has become a catchment for waste as it flows through Jayapura. Among the mangrove roots, one can find plastic bottles, tarp remnants, and timber pieces trapped.
According to Sanyi, after decades of gathering clams by feel, she now often has to sift through trash just to reach the muddy ocean floor where the clams inhabit. Sadly, the quantity of clams has drastically declined.
Paula Hamadi, aged 53, expressed her frustration by stating, “The mangrove forest has never looked as bad as it is now.” Having routinely visited the forest for years during low tide for clam harvesting, she observed the stark decline in her catch. “Previously, I could gather a can of clams in half an hour; now, I mainly come across litter.”
Back in the day, they could gather enough clams to sell them at the neighboring village, but now their modest collections are mainly for family meals.
A 2020 study revealed dangerously high lead levels in the bay, attributed to waste from households and businesses. Lead poses risks to both human health and aquatic life; the study indicated contamination in various species commonly consumed in Youtefa Bay.
Other research confirms a worrying decline in shellfish and crab populations, according to John Dominggus Kalor, a fisheries and marine sciences lecturer at Cenderawasih University. “The risks associated with heavy metal contamination, microplastics, and threats to public health are significant,” Kalor warned. “These issues could have lasting health repercussions.”
Community members are taking action to protect their land.
Recent development efforts have drastically affected sections of the mangrove, resulting in deterioration across the ecosystem. Mangroves are vital in mitigating extreme weather events such as tsunamis while fostering ecological diversity. They also hold immense social and cultural significance for the women relying on this environment.
Kalor remarked, “In the future, people may wonder where the women’s forest disappeared due to development and pollution.”
Numerous preservation efforts are already in motion, including initiatives led by residents of Enggros. Merauje and her fellow villagers are in the process of establishing nurseries to grow and plant new mangrove trees within the forest.
“We are replacing dead trees and cleaning up trash in Youtefa Bay,” Merauje stated. “I am doing this with friends in an effort to sustain and protect this forest.”
Kalor noted that beyond reforestation, assurances are necessary to prevent further destruction of the forest. Currently, there is no regional legislation in place to safeguard Youtefa Bay or its women’s forests, yet Kalor believes implementing such laws could reduce future deforestation.
“It’s essential that we halt any further development in our bay,” he stressed.
