Johanes Jamil, on a sampan boat along the coast of Kawal, Gunung Kijang, Bintan Regency, Riau Islands, Indonesia. Courtesy of Johanes Jamil.
Johanes Jamil is a member and the head of the Orang Suku Laut community in kampung Masiran in Kawal, a fishing village in the east of Bintan. In this video interview, he shares how corals are not only important places for fishing, but also part of a deeper way of knowing and navigating the sea.
For Johanes, corals are alive with signs. If the waves are calm, he explains, it is possible to hear whether corals are there. Sometimes this is known through the sounds of fish, and sometimes through animals that stay close to reefs. Sea turtles, for example, are a sign: if they make sound, people know there are corals nearby, because turtles remain around coral areas. Healthy reefs also have their own soundscape. Johanes says that when the sound is strong, it means the coral below is large. Fish such as ikan gigu and ikan selar create distinctive sounds, and experienced fishers learn to recognise them. As such, corals are sensed not only through sight, but through listening to the sea.
He also speaks of monggu, the largest coral within a coral colony. Passed down from his grandfather, this knowledge is both practical and spiritual. Johanes explains that many big fish gather around this big coral, and that when the wind is not too strong, it can even be smelled: it has a fishy scent that helps fishers locate it. For him, this makes the monggu a coral that can guide people toward fish through smell as much as through sight. But this big coral is not just a place to find fish. It is also sacred. Johanes recalls that some monggu were destroyed by fish bombing. After that, there were no more fish there, and those responsible fell ill. In this way, the reef is understood as both habitat and also as a protected and spiritually charged space.
This sacred geography extends to what Johanes calls malang: guarded rocky places in the sea, often associated with corals, strong currents, and unseen beings. Some are forbidden spaces, places that are dibelah, where boats should not pass directly over the reef, but only around it. He gives the example of Monggu Lipan, where fish bombing is believed to bring a plague of centipedes. He also describes the malang buruk, a very dark black stone formation of which there are three in the sea off Kawal. The smallest one, he says, is the most feared. Around these malang, many fish used to gather, alongside manta rays and toothless sharks, but fishers also had to be careful, as these were dangerous places with strong currents and spiritual guardians. Today, Johanes says, fish bombing and net fishing have damaged many of the rocks and corals there. The manta rays are gone, and much of the fish is gone too.
Corals are also central to Orang Suku Laut navigation. Before GPS, Johanes explains, people read the sea through the position of Bintang Timur, the eastern star, through the four winds, the direction of clouds, the movement of currents, and even dolphins. Corals are part of this navigation. If the water above a reef looks like vibrating glass, it tells them about the tide and the direction of the wind. The position of Bintang Timur in the early morning also tells them the time, including when fish come out to feed. Trough this they know where to fish and how to navigate back home.
