'Prisoners' of Bukittinggi zoo hoping for a pardon

Tom Price, Contributor, Bukittinggi, West Sumatra

The prisoners sit huddled on the floor of their cell while soft rain drips from the bars. Days old food lies molding in the corners on the concrete, smeared with the body waste that has nowhere else to go. With no tap or even bucket to hold water throughout the steamy afternoons, the prisoners press their lips to the floor to slurp up the rainwater as it flows between their feet. Today is like yesterday, and the day before, and their eyes bear the dull blank stare of those who can't contemplate any hope for change.

This is not a prison, but a zoo, and the "prisoners" are primates, elephants, crocodiles and many other would-be star attractions of this faded Dutch era complex in Bukittingi, a city two hours drive from West Sumatra's capital Padang. Built in the 1930's as an extension to Fort De Kock via a footbridge over the main road in town and essentially unchanged since, its crumbling facilities have languished in front of dwindling crowds.

It is a grim place, a shocking surprise for the thousands of foreign tourists who use Bukittingi as a stepping stone for the eco-tourism wonders of Sumatra.

"We had no idea when we toured the fort that we would end up here. I am disgusted that my money goes to support such a place," said Alexi Alexander of Calgary, Canada after her July visit.

She's not alone in her views. None of the dozens of restaurants and guesthouses in the area mention the zoo as an attraction worth visiting, and proprietors, when asked, joke about what a mess it is.

"What's the difference between a prison and our zoo?" asks a local guide. "Prisons hold people."

Perhaps because they seem most human, it is the condition of the primates that is most depressing, especially that of the orangutans who elsewhere in Sumatra draw crowds of eco-tourists each year.

Ucok is one example. A massive adult male orangutan, with rope-like matted hair, Ucok has been in this same bare enclosure for 24 of his 25 years. There are no toys to play with or trees to swing on, just a stale tank of water, and of course the bars.

Nearby, an infant female named Mary huddles in an empty concrete water tank staring at the sky, careful to avoid the prying claws of the Malaysian Sun bear next door, who spends most of his time trying to find a way into her cage. Mary is eight months old, and will likely spend the rest of her life here.

For the animals, food is their major diversion.

Ucok gets about seven kilos of food a day, which he supplements by begging for peanuts, chips and whatever else visitors throw in his cage. Although it's not part of his diet and is not allowed, he's fed anyway.

"We want the understanding of people not to feed the animals, but it is very difficult to forbid them to feed the animals," explains Mohammad Idris, the new zoo director who has been in this position only four months.

A look around clarifies the difficulty he faces: the signs explaining where the animals are from and that they should not be fed anything besides their appropriate meals are like everything else here -- faded or broken, clearly years old.

Mohammad admits he faces a daunting challenge. "It is a poor environment for visitors and animals," he says.

With 90 percent of the zoo's current budget coming from the sale of 800,000 tickets per year, with the adult price being only Rp 1,600, there's little money left to make repairs or improvements.

However, hope for change to make this zoo a tourist draw for Bukittinggi's crowds of visitors is on the horizon. According to Mohammad, the local government is poised to make the investment to bring this zoo into shape.

He said that previously, the local government placed importance on sectors like education and farming, and didn't pay any attention to the zoo. But now they're looking at the zoo and have made money available for improvements. The renovations are expected to cost Rp 100,000,000.

"We are the only zoo in West Sumatra and could become a major tourist attraction again," Mohammad said.

On a walk through the zoo, he outlines his plans to reverse the zoo's slide into the current poor facilities, which are aimed more at the visitors' needs than the inhabitants'.

"We would like to fix up the cages, give them new paint, arrange a better area for the vendors. Most importantly, we want to create an area of free entertainment and recreation areas for children."

Currently, the rides are fee-based, which limits the number of families who can afford a day at the zoo.

"The money exists, and now we are searching for the best vendors." He hopes to have all the improvements completed in five months, an ambitious schedule.

While Mohammad is responsible for administering the zoo, care for the animals falls to Dr. Effi Silfia, a graduate of the Bogor Agriculture Institute (IPB)'s School of Veterinary. Followed around the next morning as she toured from enclosure to enclosure with a packet of medicines in her hand, she pointed out where she hoped to improve the lives of the animals.

"We want to move animals from their small enclosures to larger ones, breaking down walls to make bigger cages, while working to improve access to basic things like water."

Mary will soon have a larger enclosure, with more light and a better view of her surroundings. And what about Ucok? "He's too big and dangerous to move, and anyway we don't have any (transfer) cage large enough to put him in."

The unspoken message is clear: Ucok will only leave this cage when he dies.

She explained the empty water bowls by saying that the town's water often does not come on until late in the morning and that perhaps she would get bowls for the animals to tide them over.

All around us, dozens of staff, the most seen at once in five days of visits, hurried around cleaning up garbage and trimming long ignored plants.

Back at the orangutan's cages, Mary had found some loose piping and was hanging from the top of her enclosure using it to pry away bits of concrete, which fell to the empty floor below her.

Meanwhile, sometime early that morning another person had slipped Ucok a meter-long length of steel rod, which he had used to pound a hole through the tile floor of his enclosure some six inches wide and two feet deep. He dropped the rod to rush the bars and growl at the keeper who came to sweep away the peanut fragments from the previous day. The keeper took a carefully timed swat at the massive primates shoulder with his broom handle and moved on. Change may be coming to the Bukittingi zoo, but at least some of the animals aren't waiting.