In the village of Budong-Budong in Indonesia, a harrowing encounter with a crocodile nearly cost Munirpa her life seven months ago. Accompanied by her family, she revisited the estuary near her home in an effort to overcome her fears. Recalling the terrifying event from August, Munirpa described how she was disposing of household waste in a creek 50 meters from her house when a crocodile struck. Before she could react, the 13-foot reptile had her in its jaws, sparing only her head. Her husband, responding to her cries, arrived in time to engage in a desperate struggle, eventually freeing her from the crocodile’s grip.
Everyone in the Central Mamuju region of Indonesia’s West Sulawesi knows the fear instilled by these ancient predators, as the Budong-Budong River meets the ocean. At 48, Munirpa’s fears became a harsh reality, marking her as one of nearly 180 recorded victims of crocodile attacks in Indonesia last year. Now these residents are forced to find a way to coexist with the protected species amidst rising attacks. Many have called for greater government action to prevent further tragedies.
After the incident, Munirpa was hospitalized for a month, undergoing two surgeries. By February, her fear and scars from the attack were still evident. “I am so scared. I don’t want to go to the beach. Even to the back of the house, I don’t dare to go,” she shared, emphasizing her trauma and her request for her children to avoid the river.
The Budong-Budong River villages have become places of caution, marked by crocodile warning signs. Once safe for children to play, these waterways now evoke fear. Data from CrocAttack, an independent group, highlighted Indonesia’s grim statistics: 179 crocodile attacks were reported in 2024, the world’s highest, with 92 people losing their lives. Videos of these attacks in Sulawesi and elsewhere have increased on social media.
Rusli Paraili, a crocodile handler, noted that the rise in attacks began about 12 years ago, coinciding with the expansion of palm oil plantations. These developments included artificial waterways that connected with the Budong-Budong River, leading crocodiles into populated areas. Now, palm oil plantations cover the landscape from the mountains to the coastline, forcing residents to always stay alert for crocodiles.
Despite being a protected species since 1999, the rise in crocodile attacks has become a concern for Paraili, who cares for some of the reptiles in a special farm, away from humans. This initiative, supported by community donations and contributions from palm oil companies, sustains around 50 crocodiles. Names like Tanker or Karossa are given to these large reptiles. However, funding can be challenging, often requiring Paraili to use his own resources for their sustenance.
Amir Hamidy, a reptile researcher, expressed worry that the increasing attacks indicate an imbalance in crocodile population control, suggesting that cautious intervention is necessary. “Being a protected species does not necessarily mean that the population cannot be reduced,” he explained.
In Tumbu village, Suardi, who only uses one name, experienced a similar crocodile encounter while retrieving coconuts. Though he has recovered, the event reminded him to exercise greater caution. He stated, “Yes, I am worried. But what else can we do? The important thing is that we are careful enough.”
Suyuti Marzuki, head of West Sulawesi Marine and Fisheries Agency, acknowledged that shifts in crocodile habitats have increased the risk of daily activities. While aiming to protect wildlife, Marzuki also explored the potential economic benefits of the controversial crocodile skin trade.
Paraili stressed the need for significant government intervention, warning that inaction could lead to more lives lost in the coming years. Residents like Munirpa and Suardi now anticipate concrete measures from the authorities to protect their communities and families. Munirpa concluded, “It is enough that I’ve been bitten by a crocodile. I won’t let it happen to my children.”
