The other day, when we were exploring a small cove in an island off the coast, a large wooden canoe, full of smiling people, approached us. They were curious about the large ship sitting in their bay, so they pulled alongside the Warrior to inquire about it. They told us that they were from a small village on the other side the island and that they were on their way up the cove to a small logging camp they had set up in the woods. Here they harvested some timber for a church they are building in their village. They also sell some of the wood to buy other building supplies the forest cannot provide. We asked if we could go to the camp and they agreed to let us come along and document the project.

We followed their canoe in our RIB, navigating deep into the island’s cove. From my perspective it looked as if we were headed straight into the mangrove trees, for I could not see the small opening that had been cut away in the bush. But before we knew it we were cruising into a little hole just wide enough for our boats. It looked as if we were in a spider web of roots, rising and twisting out of the water, reaching up for some light.

When we could go no further, we stepped out of our boats, sinking up to our thighs in mud. Trudging through the sinking mud we reached an elevated board that was the beginning of the path to the camp. A lot of work and creativity went into this elevated plank system that wove us through the mangrove forest and dropped us out at the forest camp on the other side.

Throughout the day we met many people from the community. They all rotate, spending some time at the camp, working on the church project. I had a chance to sit and talk with one of the locals who had spent his whole life on the island and grew up in the village. He told me that they had been working on building this church for the past five years and that is was going to take two more. I was amazed at how long this project was taking, but after a few days of listening and talking with the community members I began to understand the process.

On average they cut one tree a day, which they saw into boards, carry one by one out of the jungle and load onto their boats. They then store the boards in the village until they have enough to sell to a timber broker. From the timber broker they get US $100 per cubic metre. In the US, if they were to sell the exact same timber and get fair market value, they would receive about $2000 per cubic metre.

The situation we documented is a perfect example of how local communities are being exploited by timber brokers and companies doing business in Papua. If communities were able to sell their timber for fair market value, then they would not have to harvest as many trees in the forest.

The Indonesian government does not support these local communities, because they do not acknowledge or recognize customary land rights. So instead of giving the local people control of their land, Indonesia hands over large timber concessions to logging companies, which destroy some of the last remaining intact forests in the region.

There are endless stories like this one throughout this region. We would like to see small communities, such as the one we encountered, have the opportunity to work their land in a sustainable way and receive fair market value for the forest products they produce.

In Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands Greenpeace has been able to facilitate some small-scale community run logging operations, where the communities have a say on how their forest will be managed. If this was happening in Papua, then this community could have been singing in their church many years ago.

I will never look at a coastline again in the same way, because I know that there is an endless amount of beauty and life taking place beyond our view. It’s amazing to know that there are still places like this in the world where new species are still being discovered. This is why we all must make a committed effort to help the people of Papua manage and protect their forest homes.