"Have you come here looking for the treasure?" he uttered with an inquisitive smirk. I was still getting used to the dialect in this part of Sumatra and thought I must have misunderstood him.
"What?" I responded.
The man grinned. "It's all right we all know about it." And with that, he laughed and turned away.
Eric looked at me with a confused grimace that begged for an answer. "What's he saying, Tim?"
"Stay put, Eric. I'm about to go find out."
Image: (right) A Guy on Boat.
I left the deck to look for Andi, our guide, who preferred to stay out of the midday sun. He was down in the cargo hold with most of the other passengers and the livestock. The sound of an infant and a goat crying in harmony greeted me as I entered the hold. It was difficult to understand how people could rest so soundly in the noise, but sleeping bodies packed the tiny space. A young lady nursing her baby cast her eyes at Andi's sleeping body to show me where he was. With my curiosity peaked, I thought about waking him, but it was a long boat ride and I could ask him about the treasure later.
Returning to the deck, I noticed an older man sitting motionless in the shade of the wooden bridge. He was the hearty type, with skin that resembled well worn rawhide, and a build of wiry muscle. His face was lined with grooves like the streaks on a beach after a wind storm. Looking into his clouded eyes, I knew that he was the one to ask about "the treasure." He mused a bit, looking as though he was shuffling through a stack of index cards full of local folklore to find the right one ...
Just prior to World War II, he explained, when Indonesia was still a Dutch colony, there was a group of colonists who lived out on the Semangka peninsula, taking care of the lighthouse there. They were so isolated on the peninsula that, according to folklore, when the Japanese invaded Sumatra, the colonists, oblivious to the invasion, continued living and working undisturbed for some time. One day, however, a Dutch ship took refuge on the peninsula. Discovering the families, the Dutch sailors explained that they were in grave danger, that the Japanese could at any time discover them and would surely take everything they had and throw them in prison. The sailors offered to take the families along with them but explained that they had no room for all their belongings. Having no alternatives, the families gathered their valuables, buried them, and left the island on the ship that night.
Rumor has it that part of the treasure has recently been found, the old man continued, and that some of it has been brought to town to be sold. Then all the questions became clear. Since we were westerners, the locals assumed we must know where the treasure was hidden.
Image: (right) Wooly Rhino (AKA Sumatran Rhino)
I looked out over the bow of the ship, across the turquoise blue of the Indian Ocean. We were on a treasure hunt, but not the kind the villager had asked us about. This forest was home to some of the rarest mammals on earth: the Sumatran rhino, Sun Bear, and Indian elephant, along with a host of endangered birds and plant life. We had come to explore.
Image: (left) Sunbear
Image: (right) Rafflesia, the world's largest bloom.
The ship hugged the shores of the peninsula, protecting itself from the swells of the open sea. I was mesmerized by the passing view. The green blanket of forest crept by slowly, occasionally revealing a small village where people had managed to push back the encroaching jungle. Flying fish raced along the bow of the ship, teasing me for a moment before returning beneath the blue mirror that was their home.
Image: (left) Boys in canoe.
Image: (right)
Gibbon in the tree.
With the tropical sun soothing my tired body, the rhythm of the engine and the crashing of the bow water soon lulled me into a dream. My eyes closed as I listened to the call of gibbons echoing from the canopy lining the shore. It was a sound I had grown accustomed to in my months exploring the rain forests of Indonesia. The sound welcomed me back, bringing alive the vivid memories of my days living with the Kubu, nomads who make their home deep in the jungles of central Sumatra.
Image: (left) Bakere and Tim.
Image: (right) Bakere Searching for Turtles.
Days of wading through crystal streams with a spear, poking the riverbanks and praying to hear the sound of a turtle's shell clanging with the metal tip. Moving through the dense underbrush, scouring the forest floor for tracks, the chief explaining to me the story that each track in the mud would tell. "This is the track of small tiger. When they are this size we don't have to worry too much ... Over here, this is a TIGER TRACK. If we run into this guy we are in trouble." Memories of chasing prey across muddy swamps and through thickets of thorns while every member of the hunting party, surging with adrenaline, called "AWUU." That incredible feeling of being purified in the crystal coolness of a rain fed stream. But most of all I remembered Sumatra's alarm clock; the chorus from the gibbons that welcomed in every morning.
My dreams dissolved as the sound of the boat engine faded. We had reached the park. An amazing peninsula covered with dense tropical rain forest and surrounded by the sapphire blue of the Indian Ocean. Along its shores coconut palms and heavy forest stretched forward over soft white sand, as if trying to touch the sea.
After spending two years exploring the far reaches of the archipelago, I had finally found what I was looking for. Bukit park was a mystical gem that protects an endangered wilderness; a treasure in and of its own right.
Author Tim Lee is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Ecology at the University of California, Davis.
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