Doy grew up here. Born just four days before Christmas in 1975 to Yahya Abdulah and Syamsiah. They are a family of farmers, seasonal fishermen and hunters and had to feed 10 children. Doy was the seventh son.
I can feel Doy’s anxiousness. I tried to comfort him, although it seemed pointless. Only last month, I witnesses the Kepuluk River flooded turn into sludge, contaminated from illegal gold mines upriver. Never mind the crocodiles, even the seluang (devario regina) fish was almost difficult to find.
“I only saw a glimpse (of the destruction), could you tell me more, Bang Doy?”
He did not answer the question immediately. His hand reached for another cigarette. This was the umpteenth stick that he had puffed on, since we sat talking. I glanced at the ashtray, almost full with cigarette butts.
“Now the forest area continues to shrink. When I was young it was a haven for birds, a shelter, and home to the various species of monkeys and small mammals such as the orang utans,” he said, like a scientist.