Written by Casper, a ‘Panda’ with the Sarawak Conservation Programme, WWF-Malaysia, for 5.5 years.
Casper is a pseudonym.
 

Casper shares her first-hand experiences in Rajang-Belawai-Paloh’s mangrove replanting sites. Written in conjunction with World Wetlands Day, celebrated every 2nd of February, this story highlights the challenges and triumphs of working in one of Sarawak’s most vital ecosystems. 

I pride myself in maintaining some form of exercise once a week — a stubborn minimum effort to avoid being labelled as living a sedentary lifestyle. Part of my delusional mindset included thinking that reaching near middle age did not negate my identity as a ‘young adult’.

So, needless to say, when my colleague casually  reminded me to invest in  a good pair of Phua Chu Kang boots to handle walking in the mud, I thought, “It can’t be that bad.” After all, I did see her return alive and well after every field trip, without a single complaint (at least not to me). “Maybe she is just being cautious.” That was another thought, as we had been rigorously trained on safety precautions in our jobs.

D-Day arrived. It started off well. The early morning was cloudy as we set off on the boat. By the way, did I mention I had not woken up before sunrise in ages? After picking up two guides from their village, we headed to one of the sites. Sure, the riverbank was muddy, but I managed to keep my feet dry in my boots. A silent smugness settled over me. That was when everything started going downhill. 

First, my boots got mildly stuck in the mud. No biggie — I pulled them out. Then I slipped. Then, in even deeper mud, my feet abandoned my boots entirely. Several times, one of the guides had to rescue me (God bless him) — and my boots. Things went so bad that the more experienced guide forbade me — yes, forbade — to visit the next site, which was even muddier. His justification? “You should have worn the Adidas Kampung shoes.”  My pride took a hit… a little bit.

Day two was not much better — I could not complete the full circuit. By the third day, I finally managed to kind of finish monitoring a full site of planted mangrove seedlings. But there was no celebratory mood as my energy was completely drained. Videos from day one to day three captured my transformation: from cheeriness to a serious expression. No, you won’t see those videos — I am ‘shy’. Use your imagination, people. Alright, here’s a little teaser of the situation.
 
So that was my first experience at Belawai’s mangrove replanting sites. From social media, it is not obvious how physically challenging it can be — the relentless mud, the searing heat, and the ever-present mosquitoes (respect to my colleagues). That’s the tricky thing about social media—it doesn’t always show the full story. 

And now, here’s a quick sponsor’s ad:

• Why mangrove replanting? To restore degraded areas. 
• Why are these areas degraded? Past mangrove harvesting activities caused disturbances, preventing the trees from growing back naturally and leaving the areas in need of restoration.
• What happens when these areas become degraded? They lose their ability to support wildlife, protect against coastal erosion, and improve water quality. This means less habitat loss for various aquatic species (e.g., fish, prawns, crabs, etc.), which directly impacts the income of local communities that rely on catching and selling them. Replanting mangroves helps restore these areas, bringing back life, protecting the coast, and supporting livelihoods.

With mangrove replanting, it’s a win-win situation for both the ecosystem and the local communities.

Back to the story… Would I go again? Of course! I need to redeem my bruised ego and prove that my exhaustion was all due to the footwear (fingers crossed). Plus, there was the delightful side activity of collecting ‘tekuyong’ (mud creeper) for dinner. Nothing beats the satisfaction of eating something you gathered with your own hands. My distant ancestors would have been proud.
 

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