JAYAPURA – On the southeast coast of Jayapura, Petronela Merauje went from house to house in her floating village, inviting women to join her the next morning in the surrounding mangrove forests.

Merauje and the women of her village, Enggros, practice the Tonotwiyat tradition, which literally means “work in the forest.” For six generations, the women of the 700-strong Papuan population there have worked among the mangroves, picking shells, fishing and gathering firewood.

“The custom and culture of Papuans, especially those from Enggros village, is that women are not given space and place to speak in traditional meetings, so the tribal elders offer the mangrove forest as land,” Merauje said. a place to find food, a place for women to tell stories, and women are active every day and make a living every day.”

The forest is a short 13 kilometers (8 miles) from the center of Jayapura, the capital of Papua, Indonesia’s easternmost province. It has been known as the women’s forest since 2016, when the leader of Enggros officially changed its name. Long before that, it had already been a women-only space. But as pollution, development and loss of biodiversity shrink forests and hamper plant and animal life, villagers fear that an important part of their traditions and livelihoods will be lost. Efforts to protect it from devastation have begun, but are still relatively small.

Women have their own space – but it’s shrinking

Early one morning, Merauje and her 15-year-old daughter took a small motorboat to the forest. Stepping onto Youtefa Bay, surrounded by mangroves, they stood chest-deep in water, buckets in hand, moving their feet in the mud to find bia noor or soft shells. Women collect them for food, along with other fish.

“The women’s forest is our kitchen,” said Berta Sanyi, another woman from Enggros village.

That morning, another woman joined the group looking for firewood, carrying dry logs in her boat. And three other women joined in a rowboat.

The women of the neighboring village, Tobati, also have a women’s forest nearby. The two indigenous villages are only 2 kilometers (1.2 miles) apart and are culturally similar, with Enggros growing out of the Tobati population decades ago. In the safety of the forest, the women of both villages talk about problems at home with each other and share their grievances away from the ears of the rest of the village.

______

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is part of a series on how indigenous tribes and communities are coping with and combating climate change.

______

Alfred Drunyi, leader of the Drunyi tribe in Enggros, said having spaces dedicated to women and men is a big part of the village’s culture. There are tribal fines if a man trespasses and enters the forest, and the amount is based on how guilty the community judges the person to be.

“They should pay with our main treasure, traditional beads, maybe some money. But fines should be given to women,” Drunyi said.

But Sanyi, 65, who has been working in the forest since he was just 17, notes that threats to the space come from elsewhere.

The development of the bay has turned acres of forest into major roads, including a 700-metre (2,300 ft) bridge in Jayapura that crosses Enggros’ wharf. Jayapura’s population has exploded in recent decades, and the city is home to about 400,000 people—the largest on the island.

In turn, the forest has shrunk. Almost six decades ago, the Youtefa Bay mangrove forest was about 514 hectares (1,270 acres). Estimates say it is now less than half.

“I’m so sad when I see the current state of the forest,” Sanyi said, “because this is where we live.” She said many residents, including her own children, are moving to work in Jayapura instead of preserving traditions.

Pollution endangers traditions and health

Youtefa Bay, where the brackish water of the sea and five Papuan rivers meet, serves as a catchment for the waste that flows through the rivers as they pass through Jayapura.

Plastic bottles, tarpaulin sheets and pieces of wood can be seen among the mangrove roots. The water around the mangrove forest is polluted and dark.

After decades of being able to feel the bay shells with his feet, Sanyi said he now often has to feel the trash first. And once he takes out the garbage and gets to the muddy ground where the clams live, there are far fewer of them than there were before.

Paula Hamadi, 53, said she had never seen the mangrove forest as bad as it is now. For years, she has been going almost every day in the woods, during low tide in the morning, to look for seashells.

“It used to be different,” Hamadi said. “From 8.00am to 8.30am, I could get a box. But now, I just get garbage.”

The women could collect enough clams to sell in the nearest village, but now their small pieces are reserved for eating with their families.

A 2020 study found that high concentrations of lead in waste from homes and businesses were found at several points in the bay. Lead can be toxic to humans and aquatic organisms, and the study suggests it has contaminated several species that are often consumed by humans in Youtefa Bay.

Other studies also showed that shellfish and crab populations in the bay were declining, said John Dominggus Kalor, a lecturer in fisheries and marine sciences at Cenderawasih University.

“The threats to heavy metal contamination, microplastics and public health are great,” Kalor said. “In the future, it will have an impact on health.”

Some are trying to save the earth

Some mangrove areas have been destroyed for development, leading to forest degradation.

Mangroves can absorb the shocks of extreme weather events such as tsunamis and provide ecosystems with the environment they need to thrive. They also serve social and cultural functions for women, whose work is largely carried out among the mangroves.

“In the future people will say there was a forest of women here” that has disappeared due to development and pollution, Kalor said.

Various efforts have been made to preserve it, including the villagers of Enggros themselves. Merauje and other Enggros women are trying to establish mangrove nurseries and, where possible, plant new mangrove trees in the forest area.

“We are planting new trees, replacing the dead ones and also cleaning up the rubbish around Youtefa Bay,” said Merauje. “I’m doing this with my friends to conserve, to maintain this forest.”

Beyond reforestation efforts, Kalor said there must also be guarantees that more forest will not be flattened for development in the future.

There is no regional regulation to protect Youtefa Bay and the women’s forests in particular, but Kalor believes it would help prevent deforestation in the future.

“This shouldn’t be happening in our bay anymore,” he said.

__

Associated Press climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from several private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find APs sTANDARDS for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and coverage areas funded at AP.org.