The Togeans: Mr Iman's Indonesia


Advertisement
Indonesia's flag
Asia » Indonesia » Sulawesi » Togean Islands
October 4th 2010
Published: November 20th 2010
Edit Blog Post

The Wonderful Mr ImanThe Wonderful Mr ImanThe Wonderful Mr Iman

Togeans: Poya Lisa 42
"Hati Hati Selamat Jalan" - Travel Safely
With Mr Iman's caring words still echoing in our ears we wave from our rocking boat, mainland bound, as Mr Iman, Mrs Farah and the others ceaselessly wave and smile back from their perch at the end of Poya Lisa's jetty. A perfect last image of the happy caring people of this magical place.


Sea crossing: Kalimantan to Sulawesi

Indonesia is one of the biggest nations on earth, its vast land mass is scattered over countless beautiful islands, each with unique cultures and natural treasures. So far in our travels we had visited maybe half of Sumatra and a tiny part of Kalimantan, not even the tip of the Indonesian iceberg. Leaving Pulau Derawan's beautiful shores behind us we traipsed back to Tarakan to take the notoriously un-timetabled Pelni ferry to Sulawesi.

Twenty eight hours east of Borneo by slow passenger ferry lies Pantaloen the port town to nearby Palu. Despite the rumours and our fears of cockroach-infested, hot, overcrowded, dank and dingy quarters we had booked economy class tickets, hoping for the best. The K.M.Umsini was a huge ferry and the Tarakan dock was bustling with porters hurriedly loading and unloading hefty hessian sacks of 'who knows what'. We squeezed past them on the narrow gang plank and were pleased to see that the ship was much calmer inside than out. We were rewarded for our ticket class courage, the economy level was totally open plan (somehow reminiscent of a school changing room), faint air con kept us moderately cool and, although friendly inquisitive people gathered around us, the ship was not over full. Best of all we had mattresses and space to stretch out, vendors strolled by at all times hawking Nasi Ayam (chicken and rice) or instant noodles, and for the whole journey I spotted only three bugs. The hours passed quickly talking to our neighbours in broken Indo-English, and sitting up on deck watching the swell of the sea.

Reunited with Eric and Remona, our friends from Derawan, and disembarked from The Umsini, we took a bemo to Palu. This city had been at the centre of some atrocious sectarian violence in the recent past between Christian and Muslim communities however thankfully they are now in a state of fragile peace.

Before we set off for the Togean Islands (another days drive east) we
Turquoise TogeansTurquoise TogeansTurquoise Togeans

Togeans: Malenge Island 19
visited Dongalla a pretty seaside village, normally a peaceful oasis. The Muslim holiday of Idul Fitri happening this week could explain why the ferry crossing was less busy, everybody already at home with their families in celebratory mood. However it also explained why Dongalla was full of exuberant and messy holiday-makers who took over the beach with their picnics and casually strewn rubbish. This does not mean that we didn't like it here, the charming Sandy Cottages and their bubbly owner made us feel so at home. The delicious fried fish and enormous portions were worth staying for alone, so we did, for two days!



The Turquoise Togeans:

We planned to stay for a week but ended up staying for two...I think this happens to everyone...it's just that wonderful.


Perfect Poya Lisa: Bomba Island

By far our favourite Island in this incredible archipelago,'The Togeans', was Poya Lisa. Owned by Dr Ishmael, his endless hospitality and amazing staff (the irrepressible Mr Iman of course included) made the already idyllic little island even more special. It was the last of the three places we stayed at but created the strongest and best impression.

Now
Beautiful Poya LisaBeautiful Poya LisaBeautiful Poya Lisa

Togeans: Poya Lisa 31
travelling with Ali and Caren again we arrived by the inter-island ferry, bargaining with the captain to stop allowing us to jump ship to a small waiting boat. A mid-sea drop off in such deep waters could have been worrying but in fact it was just fun. As the small boat was made fast at the little wooden jetty and we were greeted by enthusiastic warm friendly people I couldn't help but think how lucky they are to live here, and we are to visit.

Two golden arcs of sand with a third rocky cliff make the roughly triangular shape of the island, simple wooden huts are sporadically placed, and the coconut palms provide much needed shade. For 100,000 rupiah (£7) a night we had three bountiful meals a day of freshly caught fish and this paradise to call home. We couldn't have asked for more but more was given; free snorkelling, mangrove, cave and fishing trips, and use of all equipment. Dr Ishmael's generosity was overflowing and we were so pleased to have found Poya Lisa.

As we settled into our huts, stringing the hammock on the balcony and watching the misting rain create a fantastic rainbow
Coconut grove wanderingCoconut grove wanderingCoconut grove wandering

Togeans: Poya Lisa 9
over the sea a beaming man strolled over and began merrily chatting away to us in Indonesian. He introduced himself as 'Mr Iman', his smile and happy nature were infectious and although our knowledge of Bahasa Indonesian was slight we understood some words. His meaning however was more than clear; friendship, and by the end of our five nights stay we had reached total understanding of each other. So much so that Lewi and he would have long conversations, Iman in Indonesian and Lewi in English...Brilliant.

Mr Iman (speaking in the third person as always) described his role on the island as security, water collector, and organiser of trips to the mangroves and bat cave. It seemed such a straight forward life, mirrored in his openly joyful nature. This is his Indonesia, no crowded streets, mopeds or mosques, just a peaceful tropical life of bringing the water from the nearby Bomba island to fill the 'mandi' basins for all to wash in.

The next morning we embarked on a leisurely schedule of beaching, followed by lunch and then before the beach could entice us back Dr Ish (as we affectionately called him) suggested we go visit the bat cave and mangroves.

With Mr Iman as our guide, slashing a path through the undergrowth with his machete, we scratched our legs and fought off mosquitoes to reach a somewhat undersized cave. We were trailed by some young boys who climbed trees and sang "Oh Africa" (Shakira's v popular world cup melody) as we walked. The cavern, when we finally reached it, was absolutely full of screeching bats whose stench was overpowering. The mudslide of an entrance and our guides excited gesturing, hugging and whispering made the experience a funny and memorable one. Mr Iman kept pointing at the bats saying "Makan" (Indonesian for food/eating) with us unable to decipher whether that meant we eat them or they eat us!!!

After a quick game of footy at the schoolyard and a swig from a freshly cut coconut; Mr Iman had kindly shimmied up a palm for us demonstrating a skill that seemingly all island men learn, we returned to the boat. So began the next part of the trip...The Mangroves. It was a calm glide through the shaded tributary, Sarabi (the boat captain) having cut the engine, and we all watched and listened intently for any wildlife present.
Mr Iman: Mangrove tour guideMr Iman: Mangrove tour guideMr Iman: Mangrove tour guide

Togeans: Poya Lisa 13
We heard only faint hornbill hooting which Mr Iman animatedly imitated in case we'd missed it, a source of much amusement. Who needs hornbills when we have Iman? A quick spot of snorkelling on the return trip to Poya Lisa and we thought our activities were done for the day...oh no...A mammoth three hour fishing trip that evening (on which both Lewi and Ali successfully fished-Caren chief photographer) capped off a jam packed and totally free day of fun. Some of us weren't so interested in the 'art' of fishing and can vouch that the intrepid trio did only arrive back at midnight, quite a fishing mission!

We had seen on the distant horizon the shape of Gunning Kolo, a volcanic mountain, sprawling over the island of Una Una, and were curious to climb a currently dormant volcano. Of course our generous hosts were happy to provide us with the transportation, Sarabi and his faithful diesel powered boat, and just as an afterthought Mr Iman came too. It was early morning when the six of us clambered into the canoe-like boat, it's bamboo stabilisers slapping against the waves as we set off. Squatting at the stern Sarabi tended to
Una Una and Gunung KoloUna Una and Gunung KoloUna Una and Gunung Kolo

Togeans: Poya Lisa 20
his engine and stoically puffed away on a cigarette, his naturally serious face cracking into a huge smile when we offered him a sweet or a friendly comment. The four hour journey was less than comfortable sat on wooden boards, thankfully we were shaded from the scorching sun, but the sight of Una Una approaching kept boredom away. That, and a snooze!

Sarabi knows all these waters so well and so stops exactly at a stunning coral garden where the reef drops away to deep sea, a perfect snorkelling location where many beautiful creatures are seen. Jumping into the sea was a much needed cool off, the sun now at it's peak heat. I climbed back aboard the boat and watched Sarabi roll his eyes as Mr Iman gracelessly threw himself into the water. The relationship between these two is comedy gold; Mr Iman constantly smiling, puffing his chest and being so openly affectionate to everybody including Sarabi...who seems serious, quiet, almost shy but yet they are clearly the best of friends.

Our favourite duo served us our lunch in the beach, a tasty meal of fish and rice (once again), and shortly after we began our ascent
Captain SarabiCaptain SarabiCaptain Sarabi

Togeans: Poya Lisa 12
of Gunung Kolo. It was not straightforward; first neither Iman or Sarabi came with us, second we had to deflect local (overpriced) guide offers but still find the path, and third it was seriously, seriously hot. After two hours of sweating and tripping our way along a dry riverbed, with volcanic rocks strewn about and tree trunks half buried in the ground we still had no summit in sight let alone reach. The path had become less clear and on exploratory excursions up steep side tracks we were at risk of causing landslides, it was time to turn back. But first a refreshing cool off in a pretty and v cold waterfall. The journey back became more arduous, the temperature was increasing and our water supplies diminishing, and Lewi was suffering from awful stomach pains and sickness. By the time we returned to the shore Lewi was in a bad way, and the four hour boat ride must've been torture for him as he was repeatedly and violently ill overboard.

We concluded it must've been the fish at lunch that caused this sudden onset of sickness, as promptly upon reaching Poya Lisa's shores both Ali and Caren were struck down, somehow I escaped the ordeal and became nursemaid. The food poisoning passed, in the regular manner, within a day and our trip to Pulau Una Una became a tale of endurance and survival.

Partly due to recovery but also to having fallen in love with the islands we extended our stay yet again. These extra days we spent snorkeling the coral filled cobalt waters, Tau Pan a favoured spot, joking with Iman and soaking up the last minutes of the sun listening to DJ Lewi's sunset sessions on the rocky cliff. It was paradise.

However, despite the incredible natural beauty of The Togean Islands and the seemingly idyllic lifestyle of its islanders, like almost every other place we have visited, they are not without troubles. Overfishing and use of terrible methods such as dynamite and cyanide fishing are slowly killing the abundant marine life. Conflicts between preserving the environment and enabling the impoverished island communities to increase their earnings need external help to be solved. The promise of national park status and increased tourism concern residents who don't understand that this could be a way for both their income and the environment to flourish.


Arrival in the Togeans

A sleepless and tortuous night's drive from Palu in a cold, windblown, disco minibus finally ended at 4am when we arrived in Ampana. Of course at this hour no ferries were departing for the Togeans, so we joined the huddle of waiting local ladies sleeping on the steps of the port office. Three shivering hours later the diesel chuffing, wooden ferry pulled alongside the dock and we joined the mele of moto drivers, cart pullers, and icecream-sellers elbowing our way onto the ship. Another three hours after this the boat finally departed. Schedules for ferry times in Indonesia are very loose and seem to change frequently so we felt lucky to have been able to board a boat on the same day that we arrived.

It was dark by the time we reached Malenge island ten hours later and the boat was much emptied. The journey had passed quickly what with the school of dolphins swimming alongside the open sided ferry and the stunning scenery of mangroves, verdant green forests and golden beaches scattered before us in the tempting turquoise waters of the Celebes Sea. Rather than follow the other westerners to Kadidiri (the island where dive shops and eye-infections are taking over) we continued our journey to Malenge.

Pondok Lestari and the Bajo Village

With our newly acquired French companion Christophe (the only traveller besides us left on the boat), Lewi and I stepped into the wobbly canoe brought to take us to the beachside accommodation, Pondok Lestari. I was still savouring the chocolate cake that Sifa, a school teacher and part-time Lestari employee, had given us while we waited for the small boat to arrive. Although we had arrived at 8pm, the sun having set long ago, our canoe captains had not brought any lamps or torches with them, so we were gently paddled for half an hour by the glow of the moon and the sparkling phosphorescence beneath us.

When we arrived at the beautiful location, Rudy, the owner, did not seem very pleased to see us, he grumbled and muttered until finally we came to an accommodating agreement. With our tent erected (on grass!) and Christophe's hammock slung on a spare balcony we only had to pay 50,000 rupiah each, inclusive of meals.

As soon as the sun rose so did we and we went straight down to the beach at 5.30am. We were exploring the surrounds and staring in wonderment at the scene of the wooden stilted community of the Bajo's (Indonesian Sea Gypsies) and the 2km long bridge winding it's way to our island, when the scene came to life. Three little boys in their hollowed tree trunk canoe paddled across to our beach and challenged Lewi to a footy match. It was great, the little lads were half the height of Lewi and were so determined. Soon all their mates had paddled over to join in too, goalposts were set and I kept score of the fast paced game. "Besok lagi!" the boys called as they joyfully splashed about in their canoe, "Again tomorrow!"

We retreated to the shade and promptly upon finishing our banana pancake breakfast a boat load of people turned up...and within the crowd, none other than Ali and Caren strolled along the jetty towards us. It was brilliant to see our friends again, a very happy coincidence bringing 'Manatee tours' back together.

The days on Malenge island stretched from a planned two to four...as there were so many activities to delve into. Snorkelling around the beach was a favourite pastime with masses of fish to view, including the endangered bumper-head wrasse or Napoleon fish. It has become so rare due to overfishing to supply the Chinese market who love these huge fish. Encouragingly we saw many of them in large shoals, an impressive sight. The coral and marine life was even better when we took a day excursion to an offshore barrier reef. One of the guests, Pavel, had arranged the trip with Rudy over a previous dinner and he got so involved in his snorkelling, out past the reefed ship, that we joked he was swimming back to the Czech Republic. This snorkel tour was capped off with a coconut break at a stunning deserted cove, where our boys attempted to harvest the coconuts themselves. Climbing a palm tree is not as easy as it looks!

In another attempt at honing their masculine hunter gatherer skills Lewi and Christophe went spear fishing with a makeshift bamboo spear about two metres long. Sadly their attempts didn't yield any catch, however they did provide much amusement and a sorrowful tale of a man and his squid, which goes like this: "I raised the spear above the squid, it turned and looked me straight in the eye, regretfully I thrust the spear at the squid and made a thudding contact, but then...the swirling cloud of black ink surrounded me and the squid was gone, only the memory of its beautiful eyes haunting me for nights to come. ". There were other equally unsuccessful yet very amusing fishing attempts, involving lines, crabs for bait and a wobbly canoe all factors which added to the difficulty level I'm sure.

Possibly the best part about Lestari, and its most charming feature, was the gorgeous natural lagoon at the rear of the restaurant, where we either floated blissfully in rubber tubes or played silly aquatic competitions, depending on our energy levels!

In between all this busyness there was plenty of time for lounging on Ali and Caren's balcony discussing the wonders of Asian travels and comparing stories. Almost every night Lewi and I would have to dash from our tent to this balcony to take refuge from the frequent and furious downpours, that our little tent just couldn't handle.

Eating locally caught fish, fried in coconut oil and served with heaps of plain rice became a daily ritual, for lunch and dinner, and although we joked about the lack of variety ("I wonder what's for dinner?"), it was still delicious.

It was great to stay within paddling distance of the Bajo village to be able to meet and learn of these peoples lifestyles. The Bajo people have lived in the Togean's for hundreds of years and after walking through the village we found that their way of life is still very traditional. They live in simple wooden houses perched on a couple of metres above the calm enclosed waters of the bay, where their boat or canoe rests beside the stilts. As we walk by a doorway a hoard of children emerge and follow us around the island, all competing to hold our hands and giggling excitedly. The skill of these people is their diving ability, without oxygen supplies they scour the seabed for oysters and other shellfish, staying below water for up to five minutes. This is an ability which is learnt from a very early age, the children are initiated in the art literally days after being born. We were told a tragic story of the devastating effect of western influence upon this community that killed 40 people, almost a whole village. A Japanese scuba diving company 'donated' some equipment to the Bajo's but neglected to instruct them on how to use it, scores of young men and women then died from nitrogen poisoning and the related problems with surfacing too quickly. It was a horrible disaster and the equipment has never been used again.

We left Malenge and Lestari at 4am one morning, up before the sun, to catch the inter-island ferry. It was already full with people using the only transport available to them. Before venturing to Poya Lisa we called in at a secluded island named Bollilanga. This island had possibly the best beach, with the purest sand and a duel aspect dining area looking out across both the mangroves and the beach. It was a very pretty place with great snorkelling once again, so Lewi was as happy as can be. We got to meet some really nice travellers, drinking Arak (palm wine) and chatting with them across the huge communal dining table. It was here that Lewi found a chess buddy and many studious evening hours were spent. The only wrong move that Lewi made was to leave the epic 'Shogun' novel resting in the hammock overnight. There was of course a thunderstorm and in the morning, when remembered, the already large book had swelled to double it's original weight and size.

So just as we didn't intend to stay for two weeks, I didn't intend for this blog to be so long! There was so much to try and convey that this entry has swollen larger than 'Shogun'.




Additional photos below
Photos: 100, Displayed: 35


Advertisement



20th November 2010

Ooty Resorts, Coonoor resorts, Coonoor homestay, ooty homestay
Good post .. I like this very much, very useful for tourism.. if you have a little time, you can visit my website.. Welcome to stay in Ooty Resort at the Great grandfather’s Ooty home stay nestled in the Niligiri Hill Coonoor Resort in of south India.Read More.. Ooty Resort thanks for sharing ..

Tot: 0.361s; Tpl: 0.019s; cc: 37; qc: 126; dbt: 0.2136s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.5mb