Before this journey, I had never imagined that a simple encounter in Natuna years ago would eventually lead me to become part of the CERS family. I am a native of Sedanau Island of the Natuna Islands, one of the remote archipelagos of Indonesia off the coast of Borneo.
I first met the CERS team in 2024 while working as a Front Office Officer at Jelita Sejuba Resort Natuna. At that time, I had the opportunity to assist and guide the CERS team during their exploration in Natuna. What began as a professional assignment slowly turned into something more meaningful. In just one week, I became familiar with their mission, their passion for nature, conservation, and storytelling, as well as the warm spirit of the people behind CERS.
After the trip, I stayed in touch with one of the CERS members, Yida. Over time, our communication continued as I pursued my own professional journey as the Executive Sales Marketing at Adiwana Jeevawasa Bali. Then, in 2026, Yida contacted me again with exciting news — that CERS was planning to return to Natuna, and they wanted me to accompany the team once more.
That invitation felt deeply personal to me. Returning to Natuna alongside CERS did not simply feel like another adventure; It felt like a homeward sailing for me. Together with the CERS team, I explored Sedanau and the nearby Selaut Island — not simply as a guide, but as someone returning to the islands and waters that have shaped my life since childhood. Bringing the CERS members to experience the beauty of my homeland, meet the local communities, and witness the untouched nature of Natuna made this journey deeply meaningful and personal.
During this adventure, after many meaningful discussions with How Man and Miriam, I decided to officially become part of CERS — not merely as a companion to the expedition, but as an explorer who shares the same vision, passion, and commitment to conservation and storytelling. This made my time on Selaut Island even more intimate. I was no longer an outsider or a guide, but as someone who had found a new kinship in exploration.
From Sedanau, I boarded Basirun’s traditional wooden boat. Basirun is a 36-year-old fisherman who also works as a transport captain between Sedanau and Selaut Island, approximately 20 kilometers or a two-hour boat ride apart.
Once onboard, I noticed a variety of goods loaded onto the small boat — rice, sugar, vegetables, fruits, cement, motorcycles, and even building materials such as roofing sheets and nails. Basirun explained he and his colleagues provide inter-island ferry service two or three times a week. Residents of Selaut Island would come to his house before getting onto the boat, bringing their lists of goods they needed. Basirun and his team would then purchase these items on their behalf and deliver them to the island. This system reflects a strong sense of community cooperation and mutual support.
Upon arrival at Selaut Island, we were greeted by residents eagerly waiting to collect their goods. Payments were made directly to Basirun for his service, creating a simple yet efficient economic cycle among the islanders.
Selaut Island is blessed with extraordinary natural beauty. Its crystal-clear waters, colorful coral reefs, and clean, pollution-free air create a serene environment. The local community is also incredibly welcoming to visitors, though they rarely see any foreigners. The small island covers approximately 240 hectares, with 210 hectares dedicated to plantations (mainly cloves, vegetables, and other crops), 15 hectares for residential areas and village offices, and 15 hectares designated as a protected forest.
The island experiences an average rainfall of 0.44 millimeters, with a rainy season lasting around four months from November to February and a balmy average temperature of 29°C. The highest point is the top of the mountain at about 1,000 meters above sea level.
Although Selaut Island is home to only 331 residents — 155 men and 176 women — the community reflects a diverse economy. Village records show that about one-fifth are active fishermen, anchoring the island’s identity in its maritime traditions. A handful pursue livelihoods as government employees, traders, or farmers. Yet the majority sustain themselves through mixed or informal occupations as housewives, students, and islanders who combine different forms of work such as fishing alongside plantation activities—depending on seasonal rhythms and economic needs. This shows how Selaut’s people balance the enduring heritage of fishing with adaptive, multifaceted livelihoods that keep the island’s economy resilient.
Selaut Island currently has a single elementary school, producing only about five graduates each year. Beyond Grade 6, students must travel to Sedanau for middle school — a daunting two‑hour boat ride each way, or else rely on relatives to host them during the week. For many families, this proves impractical, and children often drop out. In response, CERS once offered to establish a community‑run dormitory on Sedanau, a gesture warmly welcomed by Selaut islanders. Just weeks ago, however, the Natuna government announced plans to officially open a junior high school on Selaut later this year, a development that will finally resolve the long‑standing challenge of access to education. With this initiative underway, CERS is now channelling its resources toward other projects in the region, continuing its broader mission of exploration, conservation, and community support.
Economically, Selaut Island relies heavily on its natural resources, with fishing at the heart of the livelihood — 1 ton of yellowfin tuna, 5 tons of mackerel, 4 tons of octopus, and 3 tons of assorted fish in total in 2025. These are sold to fish mongers, including Mr. Wan Mustar, whose home doubles as a temporary storage facility equipped with ice preservation. Weekly production ranges from 100 to 300 kilograms, which are then transported to Sedanau or Selat Lampa before being shipped to larger markets in Kalimantan and Batam.
Alongside its maritime economy, clove farming is a cornerstoone of life on Selaut Island. Around 70% of the island is covered in clove plantations, yielding 15–20 tons of dried cloves annually. Local families keep only a small portion for cooking, while the vast majority, nearly 95% of production, is sold beyond the island, with most shipments bound for Jakarta, Semarang, and Surabaya. Harvested once a year, and they are sold at a relatively high price, around IDR 110,000 per kilogram. Animals like monitor lizards, long-tailed macaques, and Asian glossy starlings are common in the vegetation. Yet not all coexist harmoniously. The macaques are notorious for raiding crops, much to the frustration of farmers. Despite repeated attempts to trap them, these animals often outsmart the traps.
Marine life around Selaut is fascinating yet fragile. I often see hawksbill sea turtles and green sea turtles gliding through the waters, each year between March and June, when they return to Kukop Island — just across Selaut — to lay their eggs. A single turtle nest can contain 100 to 150 eggs. Yet this remarkable cycle of renewal is shadowed by human interference. Despite government regulations, turtle eggs are still collected and consumed, only 2,000 to 3,000 eggs remain annually across the island. Many fail to hatch due to human interference, which threatens the survival of these endangered species. There also appears to be a lack of consistent enforcement and structured conservation programs. Local youths make valiant efforts to patrol the nesting sites, but their vigilance is sporadic, constrained by the demands of daily economic responsibilities. Protecting these turtles requires real action—conservation initiatives, community education, and stronger regulations.
This journey has not only revealed the beauty and resilience of Selaut Island but also the urgency for environmental preservation. I felt compelled to contribute to turtle conservation efforts and raise awareness about the importance of safeguarding these remarkable creatures, whose survival is intertwined with the island’s ecological future.