Sweat dripped into my eyes and my heart pounded in my ears
as I stumbled along the overgrown path towards my destination. It was around
30C and humidity was close to 100%; not a whisper of a breeze provided any
respite, yet the leaves rustled and chattered around me, teeming with life.
Although
we were alone on the path, a cacophony of sounds met my ears; the hoarse calls
of hornbills soaring overhead, the snapping of twigs as red-leaf monkeys
traversed the canopy above my head, and the murky-brown river crashing through
the valley below.
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| View of the canopy in the Danum Valley |
I was in the depths
of the primary rainforest in Malaysian Borneo, three hours from the nearest town,
trekking through a dense jungle trail with my guide, Dean. We had already
climbed to a lofty viewpoint, along a trail littered with coffins from the
previous inhabitants of the forest many years before, where I had been startled
by the sheer scale of forest around me – a sea of green reaching as far as I could see
in every direction – and now we were descending back to the valley floor below
for a well-deserved cold drink by the Danum River.
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| Dean overlooking the canopy |
Suddenly Dean, who
was ahead of me, stopped dead and cocked his head to one side. Listening. I
could hear nothing out of the ordinary, but he remained silent for a couple of
minutes, and then pointed to the trees off to the side of the path.
“Wait and watch there,” he whispered, gesturing to a perfectly
motionless patch of green around 20 feet ahead.
I followed his instructions, straining to try and hear what Dean
had, but nothing caught my ear for several minutes above the tireless screeching
of the cicadas. Suddenly, a slight rustling and the tops of the canopy twitched
slightly. Blink and you’d miss it. Still we waited. Finally, through the leaves
and the murky darkness of the rainforest, I saw a figure ambling slowly,
quietly through the towering trees towards us. I squinted, then gaped, elated.
This was what I had travelled halfway around the world to see, and yet hadn’t
dared to dream that I would.
A large, male orangutan loomed through the murky light, grasping
the branches of a tree just a few feet in front of me, reaching for whatever
delicacy lay at his hands. He was bigger than I had expected, yet far more graceful.
His cheek pads and lengthy arm span gave away his stature and gender, although
he blended seamlessly into his surroundings from a distance. When I peered
closer, I could make out the burnt orange colour of his hair, and the dark,
textured skin around his solemn eyes. He had a very human-like expression on
his face as he considered his snack.
He paid Dean and I no consideration at all, yet I knew that he
knew we were there. He paused, sniffed, and continued to eat, before sensing
something in the forest above us and ambling down the hillside, away from our
vantage point, branches crashing in his wake. I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t
realised I’d been holding.
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| Braving the canopy walkway in the Danum Valley |
Here, in the middle of the primary rainforest, in a world
far away from anything I had ever imagined, I’d had my first encounter with a
truly wild orangutan, and it was the most magical moment I could ever have dreamed
of. It hadn’t even occurred to me to try and pick up my camera; I’d been rooted
to the spot and couldn’t take my eyes from his. I was hooked and knew that
nothing would ever be the same again. I had fallen in love with this beautiful island
and the creatures that called it home.
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| Baby orangutan clinging to its mother |
The start of my love affair with Borneo was auspicious, and
I have been lucky enough to see my beloved orangutan on every visit since. I
have cruised along the tributaries of the Kinabatangan River, stumbling upon herds
of pygmy elephants splashing on the banks and dodging fallen branches from the proliferate
proboscis monkeys above, their large noses protruding through the leaves. I
have stayed on board on a traditional Indonesian klotok on the Sekonyer River,
eating a delicious homemade rendang curry with the Milky Way sparkling in the
night sky, bioluminescent plankton glittering ahead as the boat cut through the
water, and fireflies lighting up the river banks like Christmas trees.
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| Overlooking the Sekonyer river |
And yet there is something so heart-breaking about each and
every experience; a tinge of sadness that cuts through even the most magical of
encounters. The orangutan, along with many other species endemic to Borneo, are
critically endangered, and each time I visit I know that this may be my last
sighting. That, unless things improve, my future children aren’t going to be
able to have the same incredible wildlife experiences that have shaped me.
The protected areas of forest, home to diverse wildlife on
both the Malaysian and Indonesian sides of the island are shrinking quickly; in
the Danum Valley I was surrounded by primary rainforest as far as the eye could
see, yet I had driven through oil palm plantations for almost three hours to
reach the protected sanctuary. The Kinabatangan River is a diverse wildlife
corridor, one of the best places to see all of Borneo’s endemic species, yet it
is only so because it is a narrow, protected haven surrounded by acres of
uniform oil palm trees. Sailing up the Sekonyer River in Kalimantan, the
Tanjung Puting National Park stretches to the horizon on the right-hand side
of the river. On the left, oil palm plantations stretch to the opposite horizon.
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| Sunset over the Kinabatangan River |
On the surface, this can seem devastating. The media constantly
shows images of rainforest contrasted against deforested land and sparse oil
palm plantations alongside calls for a boycott on palm oil, as if to emphasise the pure evil of the industry. It’s true
that palm oil is one of the primary causes of deforestation that has caused the
decline of the orangutan and other endemic species on the island, although they
have also been kept as pets and sold on the black market. But the issue is not
as black and white as it may seem.
Palm oil itself is not an inherently evil substance. It is
an incredibly efficient crop that provides 35% of the world’s vegetable oil on
just 10% of the land. It is in over 50% of products on supermarket shelves,
including chocolate, cakes, pet food, spreads, toiletries and cleaning
products. The palm oil industry employs 16 million people worldwide, 4 million
of those in Indonesia alone.
Malaysia and
Indonesia supply around 90% of the world’s palm oil, and it is one of the main
income generators for the two countries that are teetering on the brink of
poverty. Indonesia in particular has a population of 272 million people to
support, on 17,000 islands which are prone to intense natural disasters. It
relies heavily on palm oil both for its economy and as a source of employment.
10% of its population are currently on or below the poverty line; without the
palm oil industry it would be many more.
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| Baby orangutan in Tanjung Puting National Park |
The problem with palm oil is not the substance itself, it is
the way it is grown. Thriving in hot and humid climates, it grows best along the
equator, where land is already inhabited by rainforest. This is then deforested
and replaced by oil palm plantations on the fertile peat soils. When the fruit
is harvested, the cheapest and easiest way to clear the land for a new crop is
simply to burn it, draining the peat to expediate the process and exhausting the
soil in the process.
This means that new land must then be cleared to make way
for new plantations, leading to much more widespread deforestation. These slash
and burn practices also lead to out of control forest fires, creating a smog of
haze over much of Southeast Asia as the dry season draws to a close in
September and October. These practices are now illegal in both Malaysia and
Indonesia, but policing this is difficult; particularly in Indonesia where resources
are thin, and palm oil is big money.
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| Guide looking for wildlife in Tabin Wildlife Reserve |
The Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil (RSPO) was created in
2004 in response to increasing concerns around the environmental impact of the oil
palm plantations. As well as loss of habitat for the wildlife of Borneo and
Sumatra, the loss of the canopy meant that carbon emissions were increasing.
The RSPO has been working to create a set of criteria that
both producers and consumers must comply with to ensure that palm oil is grown
in a sustainable way. Whilst calls for an out and out boycott of palm oil were
initially supported, it soon became clear that this would be catastrophic both
for the environment, and for the economies of Malaysia and Indonesia.
Not only would 16 million people be out of work, with little
chance of finding other employment, but it would be nigh on impossible to find
a more efficient crop. Therefore, a more destructive cash crop would simply
take the place of palm oil, moving the problem elsewhere and causing further deforestation.
The root of the problem would not be solved. Increasingly the emphasis has been
put on deforestation-free palm oil, meaning that plantations are grown on land
that has already been deforested. The RSPO is working with grassroots movements
throughout Southeast Asia to incentivise sustainable plantations and has
created resources for consumers around the world to support the practice.
By purchasing products made with palm oil from a sustainable
source and boycotting those which are not, this encourages large corporations
to continue to source their palm oil sustainably, and thus incentivises producers
to create deforestation-free plantations. An out and out boycott of palm oil is
only a good option of the alternative is purchasing from an unsustainable
source. The RSPO logo is appearing increasingly on products on supermarket
shelves, and Chester Zoo – a huge proponent of sustainable palm oil – has created
a fantastic shopping list with brands who have proven they source their palm
oil sustainably.
There is still a lot of work to be done on this, and this is
just the first rung of an increasingly growing list of things that must be
considered going forwards. There are some arguments to suggest that the
criteria for sustainable plantations aren’t stringent enough, as an example, but
the rules and regulations can only improve with enough support and funding, and
so this first step is crucial for the sustainable palm oil movement as a whole.
Sabah in Malaysian Borneo committed in 2015 to certifying
all of its palm oil to RSPO standards and to increase protected area coverage
to 30% by 2025, and it is already 25% of the way there. Indonesia is some way
behind, although it has more pressures on its economy than its neighbour; it is
here that incentivising sustainable palm oil financially could have the biggest
impact.
Supporting sustainable palm oil is not the only way that you
can help to conserve the rainforest in Borneo. Tourism is also one of the main
income generators and employers in both countries, and this is often in conflict
with the palm oil industry. Visitors travel to the darkest depths of the
Bornean rainforest in search of the island’s most iconic species, with images
of deep, dark canopies untouched by humans, and an undergrowth teeming with
life; not of bumpy journeys along logging tracks and many acres of oil palm to
reach the haven of the rainforest.
Yet by visiting these protected areas you are contributing
national park fees that go towards the forestry departments and conservation
charities; you are contributing to the wages of guides, chefs, cleaners,
maintenance staff and drivers in the area; you are buying snacks and souvenirs
that directly contribute to the local economy. You are preventing the
surrounding rows of palm oil from encroaching ever further into the canopy
beyond.
Put simply, by searching for that once in a lifetime
orangutan moment, you are funding an industry that by its very nature must
protect the habitat of this critically endangered species and are incentivising
the Malaysian and Indonesian governments to keep that forest home alive.
When I asked Dean, after that first magical moment, how he
had known that the orangutan was there, he simply said that he had both heard
and smelt him, his senses honed by years of guiding and co-existing with these
great apes in their forest home. I have been back to Borneo a further 5 times
since that first visit and, whilst my skills have improved slightly, I am still
nowhere near the level of the impressive naturalist guides and continue to be
awed by what they can do.
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| In my happy place, searching for orangutan on the Sekonyer river |
I am currently
planning my next foray back to that most diverse of islands, deciding whether
to revisit old haunts or to dip my toe into unknown territory. One thing is for
certain; whether it’s my first encounter or my last, I will never take a glimpse
of burnt-orange hair or wise brown eyes for granted and hope that, when I am
grey of hair and wrinkled of face, I will still tread through the undergrowth, listening
for the rustle of trees, safe in the knowledge that the ‘man of the forest’ is
protected and thriving for many generations to come.
Resources
- WWF stance on sustainable palm oil
- Chester Zoo sustainable palm oil shopping list
- Orangutan Appeal UK
- Sumatran Orangutan Society
- Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil
