On the rocks and learning what matters in life
Tantri Yuliandini, The Jakarta Post, Berau, East Kalimantan
I have always believed that life is made up of many experiences designed to help us appreciate the limited time we have on earth. I was never more sure of this than when my boat sunk on the reefs off Derawan Islands in Berau, East Kalimantan, last month.
June 1 began with a disappointment. The alarm I had set on my mobile phone failed to wake me up at dawn and I missed an opportunity for snorkeling with the sea turtles in the clear waters around Derawan Island.
I was on the island along with two other journalists -- Sabar Subekti of Suara Pembaruan evening daily, and Mawar Kusuma of Tempo News Room -- on an invitation from non-governmental organization Kehati to visit their conservation project area. The visit was also timed in conjunction with a working visit from Minister of Maritime and Fisheries Rokhmin Dahuri to the area.
The sky that morning was heavily overcast from the storm the night before, and a strong southernly wind made the sea very choppy. Two justifiable reasons for missing a dawn dip in the sea, I told mocking colleagues.
Our itinerary for the day was to visit Sangalaki Island -- about one hour's ride by speedboat -- on the southeast of Derawan Island, then proceed on an easterly route to Kakaban Island, and finally spend the night at Maratua Island.
Joining us for the day was a journalist from Kompas daily, Yuni Ikawati, Kehati activists Julia Kalmirah and Ali Sofiawan, as well as Yuyun Suhardiono, Marwan and Hani Iriani from local NGO Berau Lestari (Bestari).
The speedboat Robbil seemed a little crowded when we embarked from Derawan, especially when 10 minutes into the trip we were forced to close the tarpaulin roof due to heavy waves. It was not a popular decision as it made the boat a little stifling.
Still, any thought of danger was far from our minds as we joked about how wet we had become, and teased Yuyun, who kept munching on chocolate wafer bars to stop from getting seasick.
About 20 minutes later, three high waves mercilessly tossed the boat around and finally brought it down with a loud crack onto a stretch of reefs.
One of the two motorists, Rendy, stopped the engine and called for his partner to check on the boat's bottom. But by then it was too late. Water was flooding in, and we had to face the ugly reality that the boat was sinking.
Looking back now, it seemed a little surreal that none of us actually panicked. Life jackets were handed out calmly and we put them on with little fuss.
All of us then evacuated the boat and jumped onto the coral of Mesimbung reefs between Derawan Island and Samama Island in the south. We must have wreaked havoc on the coral life there as we struggled to get a footing.
Meanwhile, Sabar, Marwan and the two motorists tried to secure the luggage from the ravages of salt water. Backpacks and carriers containing laptops, digital cameras, handycams, cell phones and tape recorders quickly made their way onto the boat's tarpaulin roof.
But we could only look on in silence as that too was very quickly under water. All the men could do was to tie our luggage together and prevent it from floating away.
The water was waist high at the time, and we were well aware that it would soon rise as the day advanced and the waves get stronger.
We had six life jackets, two gasoline drums to be used as floats, a pair of complete fins (the others had lost their pair), three snorkels, a board from the boat's padded seat, plus plenty of bottled water should we need more floats.
As we were figuring out what to do, Yuni remarked: "This had to happen on my birthday!" So instead of allowing hysteria to slowly grip us, there in the middle of nowhere, we sang Happy Birthday to her. It was certainly not a birthday easily forgotten.
Derawan Island was now nowhere in sight, and from where we were stranded, only Samama Island could be seen far in the distance.
For about two seconds I felt despair: Was this the extent of my life? Newlywed Yuyun, on the other hand, was distressed that he might never see his wife again. Then we spotted a fishing boat on the horizon in the north, and for the moment we were calmed. Marwan suggested some of us swim to the boat to get help, as it appeared to be at anchor.
I had initially planned to go with him. But while it was dangerous for only one person to brave the elements and get help, I was also doubtful of my strength to swim such a long distance. We were perhaps two kilometers from the boat.
In the end, Marwan went alone, taking the last remaining fins and a snorkel. We watched as he struggled to swim in the deep water and tread on coral in the shallow.
In the meantime, we attached one of the orange life jackets to the top of a wood beam from the sunken boat and tried to wave it as high in the air as we could.
A boat appearing from the direction of Samama Island momentarily lifted our hopes. We waved the beam a little more aggressively and shouted "Help!" at the top of our lungs. I never thought I would actually need to shout for help, like in the movies, with such earnestness.
It was to no avail; soon the boat was gone from sight, taking our hopes of rescue with it.
I've heard how scenes from your life are supposed to flash before you minutes before your life ends, but since nothing happened to me, I hoped that perhaps my life would not end quite so soon.
I know this may sound cliched, but during all this I was only thinking of God. My family, my friends, even my boyfriend, were far from thoughts.
I saw the line on the horizon where the sky met the ocean, uninterrupted for once. I saw the overcast sky, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. I felt the swelling waves and their power lift me off my footing. All around me was the large expanse of water and sky.
I felt the power of God and was humbled.
"Dear God, thank you for this opportunity to witness your greatness, but please give us another day to fully appreciate your power," I said in a silent prayer.
The far off boat may not have heard our cries for help, but Marwan, who was still struggling to get to the fishing boat, heard them. The dismal pleas spurred him on at times when he was tired, he told us later.
Marwan related how after about an hour of swimming, he stood on some reefs and called the attention of some of the fishermen on the boat. The owner of the boat, Pak Khaerun, quickly got out his wooden canoe and picked Marwan off the reef. Rescue was finally on its way.
Spying Marwan's head bobbing among the fishermen and finally seeing the fishing boat moving toward us, we became more relaxed.
The seawater, which had reached our shoulders, seemed a lot tamer, and we were relaxed enough to think about what we would do once we got on land.
"Kiss Marwan!" Julia said. I promised myself that I would sholat (pray) -- an act of faith that I had often skipped for numerous reasons -- but without going as far as promising never to miss a single of the five prayer times.
We were stranded on that reef for more than two hours before Pak Khaerun arrived with his boat. It was almost time for magrib (sunset prayer) when we arrived back to Derawan.
We later realized just how lucky we were. No other fishing boats had gone to sea that day because of the bad weather, the area where Pak Khaerun anchored was not his usual fishing grounds and the fishermen would not have noticed us stranded there but for Marwan swimming toward them.
God moves in mysterious ways. This experience was just one way of showing me how fragile life is.